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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, by 
+Samuel James Arnold
+
+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. 2, February 1810
+
+Author: Samuel James Arnold
+
+Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter
+
+Release Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #26628]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [Transcriber's Note:
+
+  Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text.
+
+  The printed book contained the six Numbers of Volume I with their
+  appended plays. The Index originally appeared at the beginning of
+  the volume; it has been included at the end of the journal text of
+  Number 1 (Project Gutenberg EBook #22488), before the play.
+  Pages 109-188 refer to the present Number.]
+
+
+
+
+THE MIRROR OF TASTE,
+
+AND
+
+DRAMATIC CENSOR.
+
+
+Vol. I.  FEBRUARY 1810.  No. 2.
+
+
+
+
+HISTORY OF THE STAGE.
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE DRAMA IN GREECE--ORIGIN OF
+TRAGEDY--THESPIS--�SCHYLUS, "THE FATHER OF THE TRAGIC ART"--HIS
+ASTONISHING TALENTS--HIS DEATH.
+
+
+It has been already remarked that at a very early period, considerably
+more than three thousand years ago, the Chinese and other nations in the
+east understood the rudiments of the dramatic art. In their crude,
+anomalous representations they introduced conjurers, slight of hand men
+and rope dancers, with dogs, birds, monkies, snakes and even mice which
+were trained to dance, and in their dancing to perform evolutions
+descriptive of mathematical and astronomical figures. To this day the
+vestiges of those heterogeneous amusements are discernible all over
+Indostan: but that which will be regarded by many with surprise, is that
+in all countries pagan or christian the drama in its origin, with the
+dancings and spectacles attending it have been intermixed with divine
+worship. The Bramins danced before their god Vishnou, and still hold it
+as an article of faith that Vishnou had himself, "in the olden time"
+danced on the head of a huge serpent whose tail encompassed the world.
+That very dance which we call a minuet, has been proved by an ingenious
+Frenchman, to be the same dance originally performed by the priests in
+the temple of Apollo, and constructed by them, to be symbolical of the
+zodiac; every figure described by the heavenly bodies having a
+correspondent movement in the minuet: the diagonal line and the two
+parallels representing the zodiac generally, the twelve steps of which
+it is composed, representing the twelve signs, and the twelve months of
+the year, and the bow at the beginning and the end of it a profound
+obedience to the sun. About the year four hundred after the building of
+the city of Rome, the Romans, then smarting under great public calamity,
+in order to appease the anger of heaven, instituted theatrical
+performances, as feasts in honour of their gods. The first Spanish plays
+were founded, sometimes on the loves of shepherds, but much more
+frequently on points of theology, such as the birth of Christ, the
+passion, the temptation in the desert and the martyrdom of saints. The
+most celebrated dramatic poet of Portugal, Balthazar, wrote dramas which
+he called AUTOS chiefly on pious subjects--and the prelate Trissino, the
+pope's nuncio, wrote the first regular tragedy, while cardinal Bibiena
+is said to be the author of the first comedy known in Italy, after the
+barbarous ages. The French stage began with the representation of
+MYSTRIES, by the priests, who acted sacred history on a stage, and
+personated divine characters. The first they performed was the history
+of the death of our Saviour, from which circumstance the company who
+acted, gave themselves the name of THE CONFRATERNITY OF THE PASSION: and
+in England one single paper which remains on record, proves that the
+clergy were the first dramatists. This paper is a petition of the clerks
+or clergy of St. Paul's to king Richard the Second, and dated in 1378
+which prayed his majesty to prohibit a company of _unexpert_ people from
+representing the history of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of
+the said clergy, who had been at great charge and expense to represent
+the same at christmas.
+
+It would be little to the purpose, to dwell longer on that part of the
+history of the drama, which lies back in the darkness of remote
+antiquity. Having shown that it did exist, in some shape or other, of
+which but very imperfect traces remain, and of course very inadequate
+notions can be collected, all further inquiry backward would be but the
+loss of so much time and trouble. The scope of human knowledge is
+extended at too heavy a price when the industry which might be more
+usefully applied, is exercised in hunting down origins into the
+obscurity of times so extremely distant. Where the greatest pains have
+been lavished on that sort of research, little knowledge has been
+gained; and the most diligent inquirers have been compelled either to
+confess that they were baffled, or rather than own their disappointment,
+to substitute fable for fact, and pass the fictions of imagination for
+historical truths.
+
+It is in the records of Greece the dramatic art first presents itself in
+the consistent shape and with the circumstantial detail of authentic
+history. There, plays were first moulded into regular form, and divided
+into acts. Yet the people of that country knew so little of its having
+previously existed in any shape, in any other country, that the
+different states contested with each other, the honour of having
+invented it; each asserting its claim with a warmth that demonstrates
+the high sense they entertained of its importance: and surely what such
+a people highly valued is entitled to the respect of all other nations.
+Of the drama, therefore, it might perhaps be enough to say that it was
+nursed in the same cradle with Eloquence, Philosophy, and Freedom, and
+that it was so favourite a child of their common parents, that they
+contended, each for an exclusive right to it. The credit of having first
+given simplicity, rational form, and consequent interest to theatrical
+representations has, by the universal concurrence of the learned, been
+awarded to Attica, whose genius and munificence erected to the drama
+that vast monument the temple of Bacchus, the ruins of which are yet
+discernible and admired by all travellers of taste and erudition.
+
+The origin of tragedy is a subject of curious contemplation. A rich
+planter of Attica, finding, one day, a goat devouring his grapes, killed
+it, and invited the peasantry to come and feast upon it. He gave them
+abundance of wine to drink, intoxicated with which they daubed their
+faces with the lees, ornamented their heads with chaplets made of the
+vine branches, and then danced, singing songs in chorus to Bacchus all
+the while round the animal destined for their banquet. A feast so very
+agreeable was not likely to go unrepeated; and it was soon reduced to a
+custom which was pretty generally observed in Attica, during the
+vintage. On those occasions the peasants, absolved from all reserve by
+intoxication, gave a loose to their animosities against the opulent, and
+in token of defiance of their supposed oppressors, went in bodies to
+their houses, and in set terms of abuse and sarcasm, called aloud for
+redress of their grievances. The novelty of the exhibition drew a
+multitude round them who enjoyed it as a new species of entertainment.
+Far from preventing it, the magistrates authorized the proceeding in
+order that it might serve as an admonition to the rich; taking special
+care, however, that no positive violence should be resorted to, and thus
+making it a wholesome preventive of public disorder. To this yearly
+festival which was called "the feast of the goat" the people of all
+parts were invited; and as this extraordinary spectacle was performed in
+a field near the temple of Bacchus, it was gradually introduced into the
+worship of that god. Hymns to the deity were sung both by priests and
+people in chorus while the goat was sacrificing, and to these hymns the
+name was given of _Tragodia_ (tragedy) or "the song of the goat."
+
+During these exhibitions the vintagers, intoxicated with wine and joy,
+revenged themselves not only on the rich by publishing and satirizing
+their injustice, but on each other with ridicule and sarcasm. In their
+other religious festivals also, choruses of fauns and bacchants chaunted
+songs and held up individuals to public ridicule. From such an humble
+germe has sprung up an art which in all parts of the world has, for
+centuries, administered to the advancement of poetry and elegant
+literature, and to the delight and improvement of mankind.
+
+To these performances succeeded pieces composed by men of poetical
+talents, in some of which the adventures of the gods were celebrated and
+in others the vices and absurdities of individuals were attacked with
+much asperity. The works of all those poets probably died with them; nor
+is there any reason to believe that the loss of them is to be
+regretted--they are mentioned here only because they form a link in the
+chain of this history. By them, such as they were, however, the
+influence of the drama was established so far that it was soon found
+necessary to regulate it by law; the players who entered into
+competition at the Pythian games being enjoined to represent
+successively the circumstances that had preceded, accompanied and
+followed the victory of Apollo over Python. Some years after this, came
+Susarion of Megara, the first inventor of comedy who appeared at the
+head of a company of actors attacking the vices of his time. This was
+562 years before Christ, and in twenty-six years after, that is 536
+before Christ, appeared Thespis.
+
+THESPIS has the credit of being the first inventor of regular tragedy.
+Disgusted with the nonsensical trash exhibited on the subject of
+Bacchus, and indignant, or pretending to be so, at the insult offered by
+such representations to that deity, he wrote pieces of a new kind, in
+which he introduced recitation, leaving Bacchus entirely out, lashing
+the vices and follies of the times, and making use, for the first time,
+of fiction. Though his representations were very rustic and imperfect
+they still make the first great era in the history of the tragic art:
+and they must be allowed to have made no slight impression upon the
+public mind, when it is remembered that they called forth the opposition
+of SOLON, the great lawgiver of Athens; who, on seeing the
+representations of Thespis, sternly observed, that if falsehood and
+fiction were tolerated on the stage they would soon find their way into
+every part of the republic. To this Thespis answered, that the fiction
+could not be harmful which every one knew to be fiction; that being
+avowed and understood, it lost its vicious character, and that if
+Solon's argument were true, the works of Homer deserved to be burned.
+Solon, however, exercised his authority upon the occasion, and
+interdicted Thespis not only from writing but from teaching the art of
+composing tragedies at Athens. Whether Thespis was supported by the
+people in contradiction to Solon, or whether he contrived to follow his
+business in some other part of Attica, out of the jurisdiction of that
+great man, is not known; but he certainly disregarded the interdict, and
+not only wrote tragedies, but instructed others in their composition.
+For Phrynicus, the tragic poet of Athens, (the first who introduced a
+female character on the stage) was his disciple.
+
+In less than half a century after Thespis had, by his ingenuity, so
+improved the dramatic art as to form an era in its history, arose the
+illustrious personage, whose further improvements and astonishing
+poetical talents justly obtained for him the high distinction of "The
+Father of Tragedy." �schylus, in common with all the natives of Attica,
+was bred to arms. The same genius which, applied to poetry, placed him
+at the head of tragic writers, raised him in the field to a high rank
+among the greatest captains of antiquity. At the celebrated battles of
+Marathon, Salamis and Plat�a he distinguished himself in a manner that
+would have rendered his name forever illustrious as a warrior, if the
+splendor of his martial fame were not lost in the blaze of his poetical
+glories. Descended from some of the highest Athenian blood, he was early
+placed under Pythagoras to learn philosophy, and at the age of
+twenty-one was a candidate for the prize in poetry. Thus illustrious as
+a philosopher, a warrior and a poet, it is no wonder that he was held in
+the highest respect and consideration by his countrymen. He wrote
+sixty-six, or, as some say, ninety tragedies, forty of which were
+rewarded with the public prize. Of all these, seven only have escaped
+the ravages of time, and descended to us perfect.
+
+Thespis, who had gone before him, still left the Grecian stage in a
+state of great rudeness and imperfection, and, what was worse, in a
+condition of low buffoonery. Before Thespis tragedy consisted of no more
+than one person, who sung songs in honour of Bacchus. Thespis introduced
+a second performer; such was the state of the Grecian stage when
+�schylus arose, and made an illustrious epoch in the history of the
+drama. Before him the chorus was the principal part of the performance;
+but he reduced it to the state of an assistant, which was introduced
+between the acts to heighten the effect by recitation or singing, and by
+explaining the subject in its progression. He introduced another actor,
+which made his dramatis person� three. He divided his pieces into acts,
+and laid the foundation of those principles of dramatic poesy upon which
+Aristotle afterwards built his rules. Thespis and his successors before
+�schylus, acted from a cart in the streets: neither his actors nor
+himself were distinguished by any more than their ordinary dress.
+�schylus built a theatre, embellished it with appropriate scenery,
+machinery, and decorations, and clothed his actors with dresses suitable
+to their several characters. This would have been effecting much if he
+had done nothing more; but to the theatre which he erected, he added
+plays worthy of being represented with the splendor of such
+preparations. Abandoning the monstrous extravagancies and uncouth
+buffoonery of his predecessors, he took Homer for his guide, and
+composed pieces which for boldness and terrible sublimity have never
+been surpassed. His fiery imagination, when once on the wing, soared
+beyond the reach of earth, and seemed to spurn probability, and to
+delight in gigantic images and tremendous prodigies. No poet ever had
+such talents for inspiring terror. When his tragedy of EUMENIDES was
+represented, many children died through fear, and several pregnant women
+actually miscarried in the house, and it is related of him that nothing
+could surpass the terrible ferocity of his countenance while, under the
+inspiration of his sublime Muse, he composed his tragedies.
+
+The mind of this very extraordinary man was comprehensive, energetic,
+vigorous, and fiery: of him may with equal truth be said what doctor
+Johnson has said of our Shakspeare:
+
+  Existence saw him spurn her wide domain.
+
+For his imagination, daring, wild, and disorderly, resorted to the
+agency of preternatural beings, and in one of his plays called up the
+dead, with a degree of skill which Shakspeare only has surpassed, and
+none but Shakspeare could at all equal. He selected his subjects from
+the highest regions of sublimity, and his morals, always excellent, are
+enforced by the most dreadful examples of divine vengeance. To sum up
+his character in a few words--Longinus, the prince of Critias, says of
+him that he had a noble boldness of expression, with an imagination
+lofty and heroic, and his claim to the sublime has never been contested.
+At the same time it must be owned that his style is, at least to modern
+readers, obscure, and that his works are considered the most difficult
+of all the Greek classics. The improvements he made in the drama seemed
+to his cotemporaries to bespeak an intelligence more than human;
+wherefore, to account for his wonderous works, they had recourse to
+fable, and related that the god Bacchus revealed himself to him
+personally, as he lay asleep under the shade of a vine, commanded him to
+write tragedy, and inspired him with the means. This story is very
+gravely told by the historian Pausanias.
+
+There is little doubt that �schylus felt a gratification in putting down
+the monstrous rhapsodies to Bacchus and the other deities, with which
+the idolatrous priests of that day blindfolded and deceived the people;
+his plays having frequent cuts upon the gross superstition which then
+darkened the heathen world. For some expressions which were deemed
+impious he was condemned to die. Indeed christian scholars particularly
+mark a passage in one of his tragedies in which he palpably predicts,
+the downfall of Jupiter's authority, as if he had foreseen the
+dispersion of heathenism. The multitude were accordingly going to stone
+him to death when they were won over to mercy by the remonstrances and
+intreaties of his brother Amynias who had commanded a squadron of ships
+at the glorious battle of Salamis, and was regarded as one of the
+principal saviours of his country. This brave man reminded the people
+what they owed to his brother �schylus for his valour at Marathon and at
+Plat�a, and then of what they owed himself for his conduct at Salamis,
+in which bloody but glorious battle he had been chiefly supported by
+that brother whom they were now ungratefully going to put to
+death:--having said this, he threw aside his cloak and exposing his arm
+from which the hand had been cut off, "Behold," he cried--"behold this,
+and let it speak for my brother and myself!" The multitude relented, and
+were all at once clamorous in their applause and benediction of the two
+brothers. The highminded �schylus however was so incensed at the
+ingratitude of the mob and the slight they put upon him, that he retired
+into Sicily where he lost his life by a most singular accident. Having
+wandered into the fields, an eagle which had mounted into the air with a
+tortoise, for the purpose of dropping it upon a rock in order to break
+the shell, mistaking the bald head of �schylus for a stone, let the
+animal fall upon it, and killed him on the spot. The Athenians gave him
+the honour of a pompous public funeral with orations, and all that could
+denote their respect for the hero, the philosopher, the poet, and the
+father of the tragic art--and succeeding tragedians made it a ceremony
+to perform plays at his tomb.
+
+To complete the glories of this wonderful man, the ruins of the theatre
+he planned and erected, furnished the Romans with the model, upon which
+they afterwards raised those magnificent edifices which still are the
+objects of admiration and delight with the world, and of imitation with
+the scientific professors of architecture.
+
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MRS. WARREN.
+
+
+Mrs. Ann Warren, whose name has, for some years, stood so high in
+theatrical annals, was the daughter of Mr. John Brunton, who as an actor
+and a manager, maintained a respectable rank in Great Britain, while he
+remained upon the stage; and all his life has been considered a man of
+great worth, and an estimable gentleman. Having received a good
+classical education under the tuition of the reverend Mr. Wilton,
+prebendary of Bristol, Mr. Brunton was bound apprentice to a wholesale
+grocer in Norwich, and when his time was out, married a Miss Friend, the
+daughter of a respectable merchant of that city, soon after which he
+went to London, and entered into business, as a tea-dealer and grocer in
+Drury-Lane. Here he became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Younger, who was
+at the time prompter at Covent Garden theatre, and though no actor
+himself, knew stage business as well as any man in England. Mr. Younger,
+discerning in Mr. Brunton good talents for an actor, advised him to try
+the experiment, and gave him such strong assurances of success, that he
+agreed to make the attempt and actually made his first appearance in the
+character of Cyrus for his friendly adviser's benefit, sometime in the
+year 1774. His reception in this character was so very encouraging that
+he again came forward before the end of the season, and played the
+character of Hamlet for the benefit of Mr. Kniveton. So completely did
+the event justify Mr. Younger's opinion, and evince his discernment that
+Mr. Brunton soon found it his interest to abandon commerce, and take
+entirely to the stage. At this time his eldest daughter, the subject of
+the present memoir, was little more than five years of age. Having
+settled his affairs in London, and sold off his stock in trade, Mr.
+Brunton returned to the city of Norwich in which he got an engagement,
+and met all the encouragement, he could hope for, being considered the
+best actor that had ever appeared on that stage. From this he was
+invited to Bath and Bristol, where he continued to perform for five
+years, and at the end of that time returned to the Norwich theatre of
+which he became manager. Mr. B.'s family had now become very numerous;
+he had six children,--a charge which in England would be thought to lean
+too heavy upon a very large estate--and yet with nothing more than the
+income which he derived from his professional industry, did this
+exemplary father tenderly rear and genteelly educate that family.
+
+From the circumstances of her father's situation, and from her early
+accomplishments and success as an actress, it will be imagined by many,
+that Miss Brunton was early initiated in stage business; that she had
+seen every play acted, and had studied and imitated the many great
+models of her time, the Barrys, the Bellamys, the Yeates, and the
+Siddonses; that under a father so well qualified to instruct her, her
+talents were brought forth in the very bud, by constant exercise, and
+that while yet a child she had learned to personate the heroine. What
+then will the reader's surprise be, when he is informed that she had
+seen very few plays; perhaps fewer than the general run of citizens'
+daughters--and that the stage was never even for an instant contemplated
+as a profession for her till a very short time before her actual
+appearance in public. The fact is, that Mr. Brunton's conduct through
+life was distinguished no less by prudence and discretion, than by a
+lofty regard to the honourable estimation of his family. While he
+himself drudged upon the stage and faced the public eye, his family,
+more dear to him, lived in the repose of retired life, and instead of
+fluttering round the scenes of gayety and dissipation, or haunting the
+theatre before or behind the curtain, Mrs. Brunton trained her children
+to domestic habits, and contented herself with qualifying her daughters
+to be like herself, good wives and mothers. Not in the city but in the
+country near Bath did Mr. Brunton live in an elegant cottage, where his
+little world inhaled the pure air of heaven, and grew up in
+innocence--Mrs. Brunton herself being their preceptress. Nothing was
+farther from his thoughts than that any of his daughters possessed
+requisites for the stage; they were all very young, even the eldest, our
+heroine, had but turned past fifteen, and, exclusive of her youth, had
+a lowness of stature and an exility of person, than which nothing could
+be farther from suggesting ideas of the heroine, or of tragic
+importance, when one day, by desire of her mother, she recited some
+select passages in her father's presence. He listened with mixed
+emotions of astonishment and delight--a new train of thought shot across
+his mind; he put her over and over again to the trial, and at every
+repetition had additional motives to admire and to rejoice. Then, for
+the first time, was he aware of the mine which lay concealed in his
+family under modesty and reserve, and then, for the first time, he
+resolved that she should try her fate upon the stage, his fond heart
+prognosticating that _his_ darling would, ere long, be the darling of
+the people. That she should possess such an affluence of endowment,
+without letting it earlier burst upon her father's sight, is evidence of
+a share of modesty and diffidence as rare as lovely, and well worthy
+imitation, if under the present _regime_ the imitation of such virtues
+were practicable.
+
+As this circumstance exhibits our heroine's private character in a most
+exalted and amiable view, so it demonstrates the native powers of her
+genius. Let it only be considered!--while she yet fell, by two months,
+short of sixteen years of age, or in other words while she had yet
+scarcely advanced a step from the date of childhood, without any
+previous stage practice, without the advantage of studying, in the
+performances of other actresses, what to do, or what to avoid, she comes
+forward, for the first time, in one of the most arduous characters in
+tragedy, and at one flight mounts to the first rank in her profession.
+It is a circumstance unexampled in the records of the stage, and would
+be incredible if not too universally known to be doubted.
+
+Mr. Brunton immediately on discovering the treasure he possessed,
+resolved to bring it forth to public view. The time was nearly at hand
+when he was to take his benefit, and he judiciously thought that there
+could not be a more happy way of introducing her with advantage than in
+the pious office of aiding him on that occasion--nor can the most lively
+imagination, conceive an object more interesting than a creature so
+young, so lovely, and so much wiser than her years standing forward to
+encounter the hazards and the terrors of that most trying situation in
+cheerful obedience to a father's will, and for a father's benefit. The
+selection of the character of Euphrasia for her, while he played the
+aged father, Evander, who is supposed to be sustained by the nourishment
+given from his daughter's bosom, was judicious, as it formed a
+coincidence of fact and fiction, which if it had been only moderately
+supported by her performance, could scarcely fail to excite in every
+bosom, in the house, the most lively and interesting sensations. Nothing
+that paternal affection, and good sense could dictate were wanting on
+the part of Mr. Brunton. Of the short time he had for instructing her,
+no part was lost. The appearance of Mr. Brunton's daughter in Euphrasia,
+with a prologue written for the occasion, was announced, and
+notwithstanding there were not wanting wretches mean and miserable
+enough to trumpet abroad her youth and smallness of stature, as
+insurmountable obstacles to her personating the Grecian daughter, more
+just ideas of her, or perhaps curiosity brought a full house. Mr.
+Brunton himself spoke the prologue, which was written for him by the
+ingenious Mr. Meyler, and was as follows:
+
+  Sweet Hope! for whom his anxious parent burns,
+  Lo! from his tour the travelled heir returns,
+  With each accomplishment that Europe knows,
+  With all that Learning on her son bestows;
+  With Roman wit and Grecian wisdom fraught,
+  His mind has every letter'd art been taught.
+    Now the fond father thinks his son of age,
+  To take an active part in life's vast stage;
+  And Britain's senate opes a ready door,
+  To fill the seat his sire had fill'd before,
+  There when some question of great moment springs,
+  He'll rise--then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings,
+  He speaks--th' enraptur'd list'ning through admire
+  His voice, his argument, his genius' fire!
+  The fond old man, in pure ecstatic joy,
+  Blesses the gods that gave him such a boy!
+  But if insipid Dulness guide his tongue,
+  With what sharp pangs his aged heart is wrung--
+  Despair, and shame, and sorrow make him rue
+  The hour he brought him to the public view.
+    And now what fears! what doubt, what joys I feel!
+  When my first hope attempts her first appeal,
+  Attempts an arduous task--Euphrasia's wo--
+  Her parent's nurse--or deals the deadly blow!
+  Some sparks of genius--if I right presage,
+  You'll find in this young novice of the stage:
+  Else had not I for all this earth affords
+  Led her thus early on these dangerous boards.
+  If your applause gives sanction to my aim,
+  And this night's effort promise future fame,
+  She shall proceed--but if some bar you find,
+  And that my fondness made my judgment blind,
+  Discern no voice, no feeling she possess,
+  Nor fire that can the passions well express;
+  Then, then forever, shall she quit this scene,
+  Be the plain housewife, not the tragic queen.
+
+Such an appeal, delivered with all the powers of an excellent speaker,
+and enforced by the genuine and unfeigned feelings of a father's heart,
+told home--peals of applause gave assurance that her entrance was
+strewed with flowers, and that at least, her reception, would correspond
+with his fondest wishes.
+
+The accounts that have been given by spectators of the events of that
+night are extremely interesting. Many, no doubt, went there with a
+prepossession, raised by the unfavourable reports of her personal
+appearance; and if lofty stature were indispensibly necessary to a
+heroine, no external appearance could be much less calculated to
+personify a Thalestris than Miss Brunton's--but the mighty mind soon
+made itself to be felt, and every idea of personal dimensions vanished.
+"The audience (says a British author) expected to see a mawkin, but saw
+a Cibber--the applause was proportionate to the surprise: every mouth
+emitted her praise, and she performed several parts in Bath and Bristol,
+a phenomenon in the theatrical hemisphere." Though the trepidation
+inseparable from such an effort diminished her powers at first, the
+sweetness of her voice struck every ear like a charm: the applause that
+followed invigorated her spirits so far that in the reciprocation of a
+speech or two more, her fine clear articulation struck the audience with
+surprise, and when, more assured by their loud approbation, she came to
+the speech:
+
+  "Melanthon, how I loved, the gods who saw
+  Each secret image that my fancy formed,
+  The gods can witness how I loved my Phocion,
+  And yet I went not with him. Could I do it?
+  Could I desert my father?--Could I leave
+  The venerable man, who gave me being,
+  A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay
+  To watch his fate, to visit his affliction,
+  To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear
+  Of filial virtue bid each bondage smile."
+
+she seemed to pour forth her whole heart and soul in the words, and
+emitted such a blaze as filled the house with rapture and astonishment.
+In a word, no actress at the highest acm� of popularity ever received
+greater applause. Next day her performance was the topic of every circle
+in Bath. Horatia in the Roman Father, and Palmyra in Mahomet, augmented
+her reputation, and in less than a month the fame of this prodigy, for
+such she appeared to be, had reached every town and city of Great
+Britain and Ireland.
+
+It was natural to imagine that such extraordinary powers would not be
+long suffered to waste themselves upon the limited society of country
+towns. Mr. Harris, as soon as he received intelligence on which he could
+depend, upon the subject of Miss Brunton's talents, resolved to be
+himself an eye-witness of her performance, and set off to Bath with a
+view, if his judgment should concur with that of the public of that
+city, to offer her an engagement at Covent Garden. To see her was to
+decide; he resolved to have her if possible, and lost no time to make
+such overtures at once as could not well be refused. These included an
+engagement at a very handsome salary for her father; her own of course
+was liberal--when one considers how long Mrs. Siddons had appeared upon
+the stage before she got a firm footing on the London boards, one cannot
+but be astonished at the rise of this lady at one leap from the
+threshold to the top of her profession. It is worthy of observation that
+the real children of nature generally burst at once upon the view in
+excellence approaching to perfection; while the mere artists of the
+stage lag behind, labouring for years, before they attain the summit of
+their ambition; when their consummate art and their skill in concealing
+that art (ars celare artem) if they have it, entitles them at last to
+the highest praise. Mrs. Bellamy was one of those children of nature.
+Before she appeared, Quin decidedly gave judgment against her: yet the
+first night she performed he was so struck with her excellence, that,
+impatient to wipe away his injustice by a candid confession he
+emphatically exclaimed, "My child, the spirit is in thee." Garrick it is
+said never surpassed his first night's performance: and the Othello of
+Barry's first appearance, and the Zanga of Mossop's never were equalled
+by any other actors, nor were ever surpassed even by themselves.
+
+Such was the impression made by this phenomenon, even before she left
+the country for London, that the presses teemed with tributes to her
+extraordinary merit, in verse and prose. Learning poured forth it praise
+in deep and erudite criticism--Poetry lavished its sparkling encomium in
+sonnets, songs, odes, and congratulatory addresses, while the light
+retainers to literature filled the magazines and daily prints with
+anecdotes, paragraphs, bon-mots, and epigrams. In a word, there was for
+sometime no reading a newspaper, or opening a periodical publication
+without seeing some production or other addressed to Miss Brunton. From
+the number which appeared the following is deservedly selected, for the
+elegance of its Latin and the beauty of its thoughts:
+
+
+AD BRUNTONAM.
+
+E GRANTA EXITURAM.
+
+    Nostri pr�sidium et decus thartri;
+  O tu, Melpomene severioris
+  Certe filia! quam decere form�
+  Donavit Cytherea; quam Minerva
+  Duxit per dubi� vias juvent�,
+  Per plausus populi periculosus;--
+  Nec lapsam--precor, O nec in futuram
+  Lapsuram. Satis at Cam[oe]na dignis
+  Qu� te commemoret modis? Acerbos
+  Seu pr�ferre Monimi� dolores,
+  Frater cum vetitos (nefas!) ruebat
+  In fratris thalamos, parumque casto
+  Vexabat pede; sive Juliet�
+  Luctantes odio paterno amores
+  Maris: te sequuntur Horror,
+  Arrectusque comas Pavor. Vicissim
+  In fletum populus jubetur ire,
+  Et suspiria personant theatrum.
+
+    Mox divinior enitescis, altrix
+  Altoris vigil et parens parentis.
+  At non Gr�cia sola vindicavit
+  Patern� columen decusque vit�
+  Natam; restat item patri Britanno
+  Et par Euphrasi� puella, quamque
+  Ad scenam pietas tulit paternam.
+
+    O Bruntona, cito exitura virgo,
+  Et visu cito subtrahenda nostro,
+  Breves delici�, dolorque longus!
+  Gressum siste parumper oro; teque
+  Virtutesque tuas lyra sonandas
+  Tradit Granta suis vicissim almunis.
+
+The following very elegant poem, published as a version of this ode, is
+rather a paraphrase than a translation. What Gibbon said of Pope's Homer
+may with some truth be applied to it: "_It has every merit but that of
+resemblance to the original._" Might not a version equally elegant, but
+adhering more closely to the original, and preserving more of its
+peculiar genius be found in America. We wish some of our readers who
+feel the inspiration of a happy Muse would make the experiment.
+
+    Maid of unboastful charms, whom white-rob'd Truth,
+  Right onward guiding through the maze of youth,
+  Forbade the Circe, PRAISE, to witch thy soul,
+  And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl;
+  Thee, meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair,
+  Clasp'd to her bosom, with a mother's care;
+  And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace,
+  The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face,
+  For never yet did mortal voice impart
+  Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart;
+  Whether to rouse the sympathetic glow,
+  Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of wo;
+  Or happy clothest, with funereal vest,
+  The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast.
+  O'er our chill limbs the thrilling terrors creep,
+  Th' entranc'd passions still their vigils keep;
+  Whilst the deep sighs, responsive to the song,
+  Sound through the silence of the trembling throng.
+  But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face,
+  And spread o'er all thy form a holier grace;
+  When from the daughter's breast the father drew
+  The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew.
+    Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll,
+  With mimic feelings, foreign from the soul;
+  Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear;
+  Methought he said, "Thou art no actress here!
+  A semblance of thyself, the Grecian dame,
+  And _Brunton_ and _Euphrasia_ still the same!"
+  O! soon to seek the city's busier scene,
+  Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene,
+  Till Granta's sons, from all her sacred bow'rs,
+  With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flow'rs,
+  To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow,
+  Enchanting ministress of virtuous wo!
+
+It was on the 17th of October, 1785, that Miss Brunton made her first
+appearance at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Horatia. The
+public had anxiously looked for her, and the house was crowded to
+receive her. The venerable Arthur Murphy wrote a prologue for the
+occasion, in which he displayed his accustomed delicacy and judgment. It
+was as follows, and was well spoken by Mr. Holman:
+
+  The tragic Muse long saw the British stage
+  Melt with her tears, and kindle with her rage,
+  She saw her scenes with varied passions glow,
+  The tyrant's downfall and the lover's wo;
+  'Twas then her Garrick--at that well-known name
+  Remembrance wakes, and gives him all his fame;
+  To him great Nature open'd Shakspeare's store,
+  "Here learn," she said, "here learn the sacred lore;"
+  This fancy realiz'd, the bard shall see,
+  And his best commentator breathe in thee.
+  She spoke: her magic powers the actor tried;
+  Then Hamlet moraliz'd and Richard died;
+  The dagger gleam'd before the murderer's eye,
+  And for old Lear each bosom heav'd sigh;
+  Then Romeo drew the sympathetic tear,
+  With him and Cibber Love lay bleeding here.
+  Enchanting Cibber! from that warbling throat
+  No more pale Sorrow pours the liquid note.
+  Her voice suppress'd, and Garrick's genius fled,
+  Melpomene declined her drooping head;
+  She mourn'd their loss, then fled to western skies,
+  And saw at Bath another genius rise.
+  Old Drury's scene the goddess bade her choose,
+  The actress heard, and spake, "herself a muse."
+  From the same nursery, this night appears
+  Another warbler, yet of tender years;
+  As a young bird, as yet unus'd to fly
+  On wings, expanded, through the azure sky,
+  With doubt and fear its first excursion tries
+  And shivers ev'ry feather with surprise;
+  So comes our chorister--the summer's ray,
+  Around her nest, call'd forth a short essay;
+  Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees
+  This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze.
+  But here, no unfledg'd wing was ever crush'd;
+  Be each rude blast within its cavern hush'd.
+  Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way,
+  Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day:
+  She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice
+  May please each ear and bid the grove rejoice.
+
+It would be superfluous, and indeed only going over the same ground
+already beat at Bath, to describe Miss Brunton's reception on her first
+appearance in London. Suffice it to say that plaudits and even
+exclamations of delight were, if possible, more rapturous and more
+incessant at Covent Garden than at Bath. Of the reputation thus quickly
+acquired, she never, to the day of her death, lost an atom; but
+continued to perform, in different parts of England, with accumulating
+fame, till her marriage deprived the people of England of her talents.
+
+Mr. Robert Merry, a gentleman well known in the literary world, and
+rendered conspicuous by some pretty poetry published under the name of
+_Della Crusca_, had the honour of rendering himself so agreeable to Miss
+Brunton that she suffered him to lead her to the altar. He was of a
+gentleman's family, and received his education under that mass of
+learning, doctor Parr, was a man of brilliant genius, amiable
+disposition, elegant manners, with a fine face and person. Being a _bon
+vivant_ and a little addicted to play, as well as to other fashionable
+and wasteful frivolities of high life, his affairs were in a very
+unpleasant state, but for this there was an abundant remedy in his
+wife's talents; and perhaps (with her aid) a little in his own too.
+Family pride, however, forbid it. He was much swayed by his relatives,
+particularly by two old maiden aunts, who were, or affected to be
+wounded at his marrying an actress. Nothing but his withdrawing his wife
+from the stage could assuage their wrath or heal the wound, and Mrs.
+Merry, in a spirit of obedience to her husband, and of amiable feeling
+for his situation, which will ever do honour to her memory, complied;
+and as soon as her engagement at Covent Garden expired (in 1792) left
+the stage, to the great regret, and a little to the indignant contempt
+for the old ladies, of the whole British nation.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Merry soon after paid a visit to the continent, where they
+lived for a little more than a year, when they returned to England, and
+settled in retired life in the country and there remained till the year
+1796, when they removed to America. Mr. Brunton, the father of Mrs.
+Merry, was, no less than the old ladies alluded to, and on much more
+substantial grounds, averse to her marriage with Mr. Merry, and still
+more to her coming to America. In obedience to a higher duty, however,
+she followed the fortunes of her husband, and with the most poignant
+regret left her native country and her father, to sojourn in a strange
+land. On the 19th of September, 1796, they sailed from the Downs, and on
+the 19th of October following landed at New-York.
+
+Few country theatres in Great Britain have been able to boast of so good
+a company as that which assembled at Philadelphia on the season which
+succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival. The theatre opened on the fifth of
+December, with Romeo and Juliet, and the Waterman. The elegant and
+interesting Morton played Romeo--Mrs. Merry Juliet; all the characters
+had excellent representatives, and Mrs. Merry appeared to the audience a
+being of a superior kind. That winter she played all her best parts, but
+though supported by such a company it often happened that the receipts
+were insufficient to pay the charges of the house, and the season was,
+on the whole, extremely unsuccessful; a circumstance which at first view
+will excite surprise, but at the time might reasonably have been
+expected. This will be understood when the general financial condition
+of the city is called to recollection. Every one who has known the
+country but for a few years back must remember the almost general
+bankruptcy occasioned by the failure of land speculating men of opulence
+and high credit. During that time commerce in all its classes sensibly
+felt the shock, and business languished in all its branches. No wonder
+that the theatre, which can only be fed by the superflux of all other
+departments of society, should droop, neglected and unsupported. The
+prices then too were higher than now--the boxes a dollar and a
+quarter--the pit a dollar. And here we cannot help expressing a wish,
+founded we believe on justice and common sense, that admittance to the
+pit were raised:--first, because it is, at least, equal if not
+preferable to the boxes; and next because it would in some degree tend
+to exclude many who, though fit to sit only in the upper gallery, make
+their way into the pit to the great annoyance of those decent well
+behaved people who go to enjoy and understand the play, and not to
+blackguard and speak aloud.
+
+When the theatre was closed, according to civil regulation, the company,
+went to New-York. At that time Hallam and Hodgkinson had possession of
+both the theatres of that city--the old one in John-street, and the new
+one at the Park. The Philadelphia company, still bleeding from the
+wounds of the unsuccessful season, and urged by necessity for future
+support, applied to Hallam and Hodgkinson to rent them the theatre in
+John-street. Guided by a policy, rational enough and perhaps justifiable
+on principles of self-defence, though certain not very liberal, and in
+the end greatly injurious to themselves, the York proprietors
+peremptorily refused. The circus of Ricketts, the equestrian, in
+Greenwich-street then presented itself, and the Philadelphia company
+opened in full force. In order to oppose them, Hallam and Hodgkinson
+invited Mr. Sollee with his company to John-street. The Philadelphia
+company, however, made a very successful campaign of it. Sollee also had
+his visitors, and the consequence to H. and H. was that when they came
+to open the new house they played to thin or rather empty boxes; the
+town being saturated with theatrical exhibitions, and a little exhausted
+too of the cash disposable for such recreations.
+
+In New-York as well as Philadelphia, and indeed in every place where
+Mrs. M. went, she was no sooner seen than admired; and the impression
+she never failed to make at first sight remained, not only uneffaced but
+more deeply augmented in proportion as she was seen, even to the end of
+her life. She afterwards visited Baltimore and other places, and
+wherever she went, was the polar star to which the attention of all was
+directed.
+
+While she was proceeding in this career of success her felicity met with
+the most cruel interruption by the sudden death of her husband, which
+happened at Baltimore in the latter end of the year 1798. Mr. Merry had
+not laboured under any specific physical complaint from which his death
+could in the smallest degree be apprehended. On the day before christmas
+he was apparently well, had walked out into the garden, and was soon
+after followed by some friends who found him lying senseless on the
+ground. Medical aid was immediately called in--several attempts were
+made to draw blood from him but without the least success; the
+physicians pronounced it an apoplectic case, and from every circumstance
+the conclusion was that his death was instantaneous and without pain.
+Mr. Merry was large and of a plethoric habit; and to that his death may,
+in some sort, and was then entirely ascribed. But circumstances appeared
+after his death which led to a conclusion that concealed sorrow, might
+have had some share in it. From refined motives of tenderness for a
+beloved wife's feelings, and that loftiness of spirit which clings to
+the perfect gentleman, he concealed the state of his affairs in England,
+which had for some time been in a rapid decline, and of the complete
+ruin of which he had a short time before been fully informed. His
+patrimonial estate had been foreclosed and sold under a mortgage, and he
+remained debtor for a considerable sum after the sale. To this effect a
+letter was found after his death. As soon as this was discovered, every
+one who knew his exquisite sensibility, reflected with astonishment upon
+the delicacy which dictated and the fortitude with which he managed his
+concealment, and felt deep and sympathetic sorrow for the anguish he
+must have been privately enduring while he endeavoured to dress his face
+with tranquillity and to converse with his accustomed cheerfulness and
+ease. Smothered grief is one of the most deadly inmates; and it is
+reasonable to believe that a paroxysm of violent emotion in a moment
+when solitude gave an opportunity for giving a loose to reflection,
+operating upon a plethoric habit, occasioned his sudden dissolution.
+
+That Mr. Merry was a gentleman of great private worth we believe the
+evidence of all those to whom familiar intercourse had revealed his
+disposition; that he was learned and accomplished in a very eminent
+degree no one has ever denied; and that he was a man of genius, his
+"Della Crusca," and the many witty and satirical epigrams he wrote for
+the public prints under the signature of "Tom Thorne," abundantly prove.
+But the pen of state vengeance was raised against him, and his poetical
+fame was immolated as an expiation for his political offences. Attached
+to French revolutionary, or, as they were then called, jacobin
+principles, to a degree which even Foxites censured, he was viewed with
+abhorrence by one party, and with no great regard by the other; so that
+when the witty author of the Pursuits of Literature drew his sword, and
+the sarcastic author of the Baviad and M�viad lifted his axe against him
+there was no one to ward off the blows. There is a fact respecting Mr.
+M. which, though it does not properly belong to this biographical
+sketch, yet as it is curious enough to apologize for its introduction,
+we take the liberty to relate. The celebrated Mrs. Cowley, under the
+name of "Anna Matilda," and Mr. M. under that of "Della Crusca,"
+corresponded with and admired each other, without being known or even
+suspected by one another, or, for some time, by the public. These
+productions formed a new era or rather a new school of poetry, which
+excited such attention and curiosity that every art was resorted to in
+order to discover the authors. It was at length whispered abroad, and
+then what most surprised the world was, that the two persons were
+totally strangers to each other.
+
+Mrs. Merry remained a widow for more than four years: she then, on the
+first of January 1803, married Mr. Wignell, the manager of the
+Philadelphia theatre, who died in seven weeks after their marriage. For
+three years and a half she retained the name of Wignell, when the
+present manager solicited her hand so successfully that she consented,
+and took the name of Warren, on the 15th of August, 1806. By this
+marriage the property and management of the Philadelphia theatre
+devolved upon Mr. Warren; than whom, exclusive of the personal
+attachment that subsisted between them, she could not have pitched upon
+any one person more competent to the care of her property or the
+direction of the theatre; or one more worthy of the sacred trust of
+being a parent and a guardian to her infant daughter. For near two years
+they lived together in a state of ease and felicity which bid fair to
+last for years, when he being obliged to attend his company to their
+customary summer stations, Mrs. Warren, then in a far advanced state of
+pregnancy, desired to go along with him. Aware of the fatigue, the
+inconveniences, and the privations to which she would, in all
+likelihood, be exposed, during her journey southward, and still more in
+her _accouchement_, which must necessarily take place before his return,
+he endeavoured to prevail upon her to stay behind. But "Fate came into
+the list," and she would go. Arrived at Alexandria, he took a large
+commodious house, and put it in a condition sufficiently comfortable;
+Mrs. Warren was in lusty health, and as the time approached all was fair
+and promising. By one of those turns, however, which it pleases
+Providence for his own wise purposes frequently to ordain, to mock our
+best hopes and baffle our most sanguine expectations, this admirable
+woman was, contrary to every antecedent prognostic, visited in her
+travail with epileptic fits, in which she expired, "leaving," (as the
+sublime Burke no less truly than pathetically said on the death of
+doctor Johnson,) "not only nothing to fill her place, but nothing that
+has a tendency to fill it."
+
+Here, we let the curtain drop. Neither her private nor her public
+character can derive additional lustre from any pen.
+
+
+
+
+PORTRAIT OF THE CELEBRATED BETTERTON.
+
+
+Mr. Thomas Betterton, dramatist and actor, was born in Tothill-street,
+Westminster; and after having left school, is said to have been put
+apprentice to a bookseller. It is supposed he made his first appearance
+on the stage about the year 1657, at the opera house, which was then
+under the direction of sir William Davenant. He went over to Paris to
+take a view of the French scenery, and on his return, made such
+improvements, as added greatly to the lustre of the English stage.
+
+The professional merits of this great man were of a kind so perfectly
+unequivocal and unalloyed that there never was heard one dissenting
+voice upon the subject of his superiority to all other actors. He stood
+so far above the highest of his profession that competition being
+hopeless there was no motive for envy.
+
+Of the few who lived to see him and Garrick, the far greater number gave
+him the palm, with the exception of Garrick's excellence in low comedy.
+Indeed he seems to have combined in himself the various powers of the
+three greatest modern actors, of Garrick, except as before excepted, of
+Barry, and of Mossop; add to which, he played Falstaff as well as Quin.
+The present writer got this from old Macklin, who was stored with
+anecdotes of his predecessors.
+
+Of Betterton, Colley Cibber speaks thus, in his apology for his own
+life:
+
+"Betterton was an actor, as Shakspeare was an author, both without
+competitors! formed for the mutual assistance, and illustration of each
+other's genius! how Shakspeare wrote, all men who have a taste for
+nature may read, and know--but with what higher rapture would he still
+be read, could they conceive how Betterton _played_ him! Then might they
+know, the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write!
+pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from a harmonious
+elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! that the
+animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath
+and motion that presents them; or at best can but faintly glimmer
+through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving
+spectators. Could _how_ Betterton spoke be as easily known as _what_ he
+spoke, then might you see the Muse of Shakspeare in her triumph, with
+all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life, and
+charming her beholders. But alas! since all this is so far out of the
+reach of description, how shall I show you Betterton? Should I therefore
+tell you, that all the Othellos, Hamlets, Hotspurs, Mackbeths, and
+Brutuses, whom you may have seen since his time, have fallen far short
+of him; this still would give you no idea of his particular excellence.
+Let us see then what a particular comparison may do! whether that may
+yet draw him nearer to you?
+
+"You have seen a Hamlet perhaps, who, on the first appearance of his
+father's spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining vociferation
+requisite to express rage and fury, and the house has thundered with
+applause; though the misguided actor was all the while (as Shakspeare
+terms it) tearing a passion into rags--I am the more bold to offer you
+this particular instance, because the late Mr. Addison, while I sate by
+him, to see this scene acted, made the same observation, asking me with
+some surprize, if I thought Hamlet should be in so violent a passion
+with the ghost, which though it might have astonished, it had not
+provoked him? for you may observe that in this beautiful speech, the
+passion never rises beyond an almost breathless astonishment, or an
+impatience, limited by filial reverence, to inquire into the suspected
+wrongs that may have raised him from his peaceful tomb! and a desire to
+know what a spirit so seemingly distressed, might wish or enjoin a
+sorrowful son to execute towards his future quiet in the grave! this was
+the light into which Betterton threw this scene; which he opened with a
+pause of mute amazement! then rising slowly, to a solemn, trembling
+voice, he made the ghost equally terrible to the spectator, as to
+himself! and in the descriptive part of the natural emotions which the
+ghastly vision gave him, the boldness of his expostulation was still
+governed by decency, manly, but not braving; his voice never rising into
+that seeming outrage, or wild defiance of what he naturally revered. But
+alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing, and meaning too little,
+to keep the attention more pleasingly awake, by a tempered spirit, than
+by mere vehemence of voice, is of all the master-strokes of an actor the
+most difficult to reach. In this none yet have equalled Betterton. But I
+am unwilling to show his superiority only by recounting the errors of
+those, who now cannot answer to them, let their farther failings
+therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in some measure excuse them!
+For I am not yet sure, that they might not be as much owing to the false
+judgment of the spectator, as the actor. While the million are so apt to
+be transported, when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while
+they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it
+is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted,
+at this easy rate, to excite it. Shall I go a little farther? and allow
+that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? I mean
+that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of
+pronunciation, which to my ear is insupportable; for of all faults that
+so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the
+fewest admirers. That this is an error of ancient standing seems evident
+by what Hamlet says, in his instructions to the players, _viz._
+
+  Be not too tame, neither, &c.
+
+The actor, doubtless, is as strongly tied down to the rules of Horace as
+the writer:
+
+    Si vis me flere, dolendum est
+  Primum ipsi tibi----
+
+He that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a
+sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of Betterton; and it has
+often amazed me to see those who soon came after him, throw out in some
+parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit, which Betterton
+himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining
+passages of the same character, have heavily dragged the sentiment along
+like a dead weight; with a long-toned voice, and absent eye, as if they
+had fairly forgot what they were about. If you have never made this
+observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it.
+
+"A farther excellence in Betterton, was, that he could vary his spirit
+to the different characters he acted. Those wild impatient starts, that
+fierce and flashing fire, which he threw into Hotspur, never came from
+the unruffled temper of his _Brutus_ (for I have more than once, seen a
+_Brutus_ as warm as Hotspur) when the Betterton Brutus was provoked, in
+his dispute with Cassius, his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady
+look alone supplyed that terror, which he disdained an intemperance in
+his voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like
+an unheeding rock, he repelled upon himself the foam of Cassius. Perhaps
+the very works of Shakspeare will better let you into my meaning:
+
+  Must I give way, and room, to your rash choler?
+  Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
+
+And a little after,
+
+  There is no terror, Cassius, in your looks! &c.
+
+Not but in some part of this scene, where he reproaches _Cassius_, his
+temper is not under this suppression, but opens into that warmth which
+becomes a man of virtue; yet this is that _hasty spark_ of anger, which
+Brutus himself endeavours to excuse.
+
+"But with whatever strength of nature we see the poet show, at once, the
+philosopher and the hero, yet the image of the actor's excellence will
+be still imperfect to you, unless language could put colours in our
+words to paint the voice with.
+
+"_Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum_, is enjoining an
+impossibility. The most that a _Vandyke_ can arrive at, is to make his
+portraits of great persons seem to _think_; a Shakspeare goes farther
+yet, and tells you _what_ his pictures thought; a Betterton steps beyond
+them both, and calls them from the grave, to breathe, and be themselves
+again, in feature, speech, and motion. When the skilful actor shows you
+all these powers at once united, and gratifies at once your eye, your
+ear, your understanding. To conceive the pleasure rising from such
+harmony, you must have been present at it! 'tis not to be told you!
+
+"There cannot be a stronger proof of the charms of harmonious elocution,
+than the many, even unnatural scenes and flights of the false sublime it
+has lifted into applause. In what raptures have I seen an audience, at
+the furious fustian and turgid rants in _Nat. Lee's Alexander the
+Great_! for though I can allow this play a few great beauties, yet it is
+not without its extravagant blemishes. Every play of the same author has
+more or less of them. Let me give you a sample from this. Alexander, in
+a full crowd of courtiers, without being occasionally called or provoked
+to it, falls into this rhapsody of vainglory:
+
+  Can none remember? Yes, I know all must!
+
+And therefore they shall know it again.
+
+  When Glory, like a dazzling eagle, stood
+  Perched on my beaver, in the Granic flood,
+  When Fortune's self, my standard trembling bore,
+  And the pale Fates stood frighted on the shore,
+  When the immortals on the billows rode,
+  And I myself appeared the leading god.
+
+When these flowing numbers come from the mouth of a Betterton, the
+multitude no more desired sense to them, than our musical connoisseurs
+think it essential in the celebrated airs of an Italian opera. Does not
+this prove, that there is very near as much enchantment in the
+well-governed voice of an actor, as in the sweet pipe of a eunuch? If I
+tell you, there was no one tragedy, for many years, more in favour with
+the town than Alexander, to what must we impute this its command of
+public admiration? not to its intrinsic merit, surely, if it swarms with
+passages like this I have shown you! If this passage has merit, let us
+see what figure it would make upon canvas, what sort of picture would
+rise from it. If Le Brun, who was famous for painting the battles of
+this hero, had seen this lofty description, what one image could he have
+possibly taken from it? In what colours would he have shown us _Glory
+perched upon a beaver_? how would he have drawn _Fortune trembling_? or,
+indeed, what use could he have made of _pale Fates_, or _immortals_
+riding upon _billows_, with this blustering _god_ of his own making at
+the _head_ of them! where, then, must have lain the charm, that once
+made the public so partial to this tragedy? why plainly, in the grace
+and harmony of the actor's utterance. For the actor himself is not
+accountable for the false poetry of his author; that, the hearer is to
+judge of; if it passes upon him, the actor can have no quarrel to it;
+who, if the periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and
+high-sounding, even in a false passion, must throw out the same fire and
+grace, as may be required in one justly rising from nature; where those
+his excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the
+taste of his hearer. And I am of opinion, that to the extraordinary
+success of this very play, we may impute the corruption of so many
+actors, and tragic writers, as were immediately mislead by it. The
+unskilful actor, who imagined all the merit of delivering those blazing
+rants, lay only in the strength, and strained exertion of the voice,
+began to tear his lungs, upon every false, or slight occasion, to arrive
+at the same applause. And it is hence I date our having seen the same
+reason prevalent, for above fifty years. Thus equally misguided too,
+many a barren-brained author has streamed into a frothy flowing style,
+pompously rolling into sounding periods, signifying--roundly nothing; of
+which number, in some of my former labours, I am something more than
+suspicious, that I may myself have made one, but to keep a little closer
+to Betterton.
+
+"When this favourite play I am speaking of, from its being too
+frequently acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the town,
+upon the sudden death of Monfort, who had played Alexander with success,
+for several years, the part was given to Betterton, which, under this
+great disadvantage of the satiety it had given, he immediately revived
+with so new a lustre, that for three days together it filled the house;
+and had his then declining strength been equal to the fatigue the action
+gave him, it probably might have doubled its success; an uncommon
+instance of the power and intrinsic merit of an actor. This I mention
+not only to prove what irresistible pleasure may arise from a judicious
+elocution, with scarce sense to assist it; but to show you too, that
+though Betterton never wanted fire, and force, when his character
+demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never prostituted his
+power to the low ambition of a false applause. And further, that when,
+from a too advanced age, he resigned that toilsome part of Alexander,
+the play, for many years after never was able to impose upon the public;
+and I look upon his so particularly supporting the false fire and
+extravagancies of that character, to be a more surprizing proof of his
+skill, than his being eminent in those of Shakspeare; because there,
+truth and nature coming to his assistance he had not the same
+difficulties to combat, and consequently, we must be less amazed at his
+success, where we are more able to account for it.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+
+
+
+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._
+
+
+PHILADELPHIA THEATRE.
+
+_Dec. 6th._--Douglas, _with the_ Shipwreck.      Young Norval }
+     _8th._--Mountaineers--Raising the Wind.     Octavian     }
+     _9th._--Lover's Vows--Rosina.               Frederick    }
+    _11th._--Mahomet--Spoiled Child.             Zaphna       } _BY_
+    _13th._--Hamlet--Weathercock.                Hamlet       }
+    _15th._--Pizarro--The Ghost.                 Rolla        } _MASTER_
+    _16th._--Douglas--Youth, Love and Folly.     Young Norval }
+    _18th._--Tancred and Sigismunda--Farmer.     Tancred      } _PAYNE._
+    _20th._--Barbarossa--Too Many Cooks.         Selim        }
+     _22d._--Romeo and Juliet--Love laughs at                 }
+             Locksmiths, for his own benefit.    Romeo        }
+
+All those plays are well known. From the peculiar circumstances
+attending their performance they call for a share of particular
+attention, which would otherwise be superfluous. Where there is
+something new, and much to be admired, it would be inexcusable to be
+niggard of our labour, even were the labour painful, which in this
+instance it is not. The performance of Master Payne pleased us so much
+that we have often since derived great enjoyment from the recollection
+of it; and to retrace upon paper the opinions with which it impressed
+us, we now sit down with feelings very different from those, which, at
+one time, we expected to accompany the task. Without the least
+hesitation we confess, that when we were assured it would become our
+duty to examine that young gentleman's pretensions, and compare his
+sterling value with the general estimate of it, as reported from other
+parts of the union, we felt greatly perplexed. On one hand strict
+critical justice with the pledge which is given in our motto,
+imperiously forbidding us to applaud him who does not deserve it, stared
+us in the face with a peremptory inhibition from sacrificing truth to
+ceremony, or prostrating our judgment before the feet of public
+prejudice: while, on the other we were aware that nothing is so
+obstinate as error--that fashionable idolatry is of all things the most
+incorrigible by argument, and the least susceptible of conviction--that
+while the dog-star of favouritism is vertical over a people, there is
+no reasoning with them to effect; and that all the efforts of common
+sense are but given to the wind, if employed to undeceive them, till the
+brain fever has spent itself, and the public mind has settled down to a
+state of rest. We had heard Master Payne's performances spoken of in a
+style which quite overset our faith. Not one with whom we conversed
+about him spoke within the bounds of reason: few indeed seemed to
+understand the subject, or, if they did, to view it with the sober eye
+of plain common rationality. The opinions of some carried their own
+condemnation in their obvious extravagance; and hyperbolical admiration
+fairly ran itself out of breath in speaking of the wonders of this
+cisatlantic young Roscius.
+
+While we knew that half of what was said was utterly impossible, we
+thought it due to candor to believe that such a general opinion could
+not exist without some little foundation; that in all likelihood the boy
+had merit, considerable for his years and means, to which his puerility
+might have given a peculiar recommendation, and that when he came to be
+unloaded by time and public reflection of that injurious burthen of
+idolatrous praise, which to our thinking had all the bad effects of
+calumny, we should be able to find at bottom something that could be
+applauded without impairing our veracity, deceiving the public, or
+joining the multitude in burning the vile incense of flattery under the
+boy's nose, and hiding him from the world and from himself in a cloud of
+pernicious adulation.
+
+But how to encounter this reigning humour was the question: to render
+his reasoning efficacious, the critic must take care not to make it
+unpalatable. And here the general taste seemed to be in direct
+opposition to our reason and experience; for we had not yet (even in the
+case of young Betty, with the aggregate authority of England, Ireland,
+and Scotland in his favour) been free from scepticism: the Roscio-mania
+contagion had not yet infected us quite so much: in a word, we had no
+faith in MIRACLES, nor could we, in either the one case or the other,
+screw up our credulity to any sort of unison with the pitch of the
+multitude. We shall not readily forget the mixed sensations of concern
+and risibility with which, day after day, from the first annunciation of
+Master Payne's expected appearance at Philadelphia, we were obliged to
+listen to the misjudging applause of his panegyrists. There is a
+narrowness of heart, and a nudity of mind too common in our nature,
+under the impulse of which few people can bring themselves to do homage
+to one person without magnifying their incense by the depreciation of
+some other. According to these a favourite has not his proper station,
+till all others are put below him; as if there was no merit positive,
+but all was good but by comparison. In this temper there certainly is at
+least as much malice to one as kindness to the other: but an honourable
+and beneficent wisdom gives other laws for human direction, and dictates
+that in the house of merit there are not only many stories, but many
+apartments in each story: and that every man may be fairly adjudicated
+all the praise he deserves without thrusting others down into the ground
+floor to make room for him. Yet not one in twenty could we find to
+praise Master Payne, without doing it at the expense of others. "He is
+superior to Cooper," said one; "he speaks better than Fennell," said a
+second: these sagacious observations too, are rarely accompanied by a
+modest qualification, such as "I think," or "it is my opinion"--but
+nailed down with a peremptory IS. This is the mere naked offspring of a
+muddy or unfinished mind, which, for want of discrimination to point
+out the particular beauties it affects to admire, accomplishes its will
+by a sweeping wholesale term of comparison, more injurious to him they
+praise than to him they slight. Nay, so far has this been carried, that
+some who never were out of the limits of this union have, by a kind of
+telescopical discernment, viewed Cooke and Kemble in comparison with
+their new favourite, and found them quite deficient. We cannot readily
+forget one circumstance: a person said to another in our hearing at the
+playhouse, "You have been in England, sir, don't you think Master Payne
+superior to young Betty?" "I don't know, sir, having never seen Master
+Betty," answered the man; "I think he is very much superior," replied
+the former--"You have seen Master Betty then, sir," said the latter;
+"No, I never did," returned he that asked the first question, "but I am
+sure of it--I have heard a person that was in England say so!!"--This
+was the pure effusion of a mind subdued to prostration by wonder. In
+England this was carried to such lengths, that the panegyrists of young
+Betty seemed to vie with each other in fanatical admiration of that
+truly extraordinary boy. One, in a public print, went so far as to
+assert, that Mr. Fox (who, as well as Mr. Pitt, was at young Betty's
+benefit when he played Hamlet) declared the performance was little, if
+at all, inferior to that of his deceased friend Garrick. With the very
+same breath in which we read the paragraph we declared it to be a
+falsehood. Mr. Fox had too much judgment to institute the
+comparison--Mr. Fox had too much benignity to utter such a malicious
+libel upon that noble boy.
+
+These considerations naturally augmented our anxiety, and we did most
+heartily wish, if it were possible, to be relieved from the task of
+giving an opinion of Master Payne. For in addition to his youthfulness,
+we knew that he wanted many advantages which young Betty possessed. The
+infant Roscius of England, had, from his very infancy, been in a state
+of the best discipline; being from the time he was five years of age,
+daily exercised in recitation of poetry, by his mother, who shone in
+private theatricals; and having been afterwards prepared for the stage,
+and hourly tutored by Mr. Hough, an excellent preceptor. By his father
+too, who is one of the best fencers in Europe, he was improved in
+gracefulness of attitude--and nature had uncommonly endowed him for the
+reception of those instructions. Of such means of improvement Master
+Payne was wholly destitute, for there was not a man that we could hear
+of in America who was at once capable and willing to instruct him.
+Self-dependent and self-taught as he must be, we could see no feasible
+means by which he could evolve his powers, be they what they might, to
+adequate effect for the stage. We deemed it scarcely possible that he
+could have got rid of the innumerable provincialisms which must cling to
+his youth: and we laid our account at the best with meeting a fine
+forward boy who would speak, perhaps not very well either, by rote; and
+taking the most prominent favourite actor of his day, as a model, be a
+mere childish imitator. We considered that when young people do any
+thing with an excellence disproportioned to their years, they are viewed
+through a magnifying medium; and that being once seen to approach to the
+perfection of eminent adults, they are, by a transition sufficiently
+easy to a wondering mind, readily concluded to excel them. Thus Betty
+was said to surpass Kemble and Cooke; and thus young Payne was roundly
+asserted to surpass Cooper and Fennell. Such were the feelings and
+opinions with which we met Master Payne on his first appearance, for
+which the tragedy of Douglas was judiciously selected; and we own that
+the first impression he made upon our minds was favourable to his
+talents in this way: He appeared to be just of that age which we should
+think least advantageous to him; too young to enforce approbation by
+robust manly exertion of talents; too far advanced to win over the
+judgment by tenderness; or by a manifest disproportion between his age
+and his efforts, to excite that astonishment which, however shortlived,
+is, while it lasts, despotic over the understanding. Labouring,
+therefore, under most of the disadvantages without any of the
+advantages of puerility, candor and common sense pronounced at once that
+much less of the estimation in which he was held, was to be ascribed to
+his boyishness, and of course much more to his talents than we had been
+led to imagine. If, therefore, he got through the character handsomely,
+and still carried the usual applause along with him, we directly
+conceived that there would be just ground for thinking it not entirely
+the result of prejudice, nor by any means undeserved.
+
+At his entrance he seemed a little intimidated, as if he were dubious of
+his reception; nor could he for some minutes devest himself of that
+feeling, though he was received with the most flattering welcome;--this
+transient perturbation gave a very pleasing effect to his first words;
+and when he said, "My name is Norval," he uttered it with a pause which
+seemed to be the effect of the modest diffidence natural to such a
+character upon being introduced into a higher presence than he had ever
+before approached. Had this been the effect of art it would have been
+fine--perhaps it was--but we thought it was accidental.
+
+The utter impossibility of a beardless boy of sixteen or seventeen
+years, at all assimilating to the character of a warrior and mighty
+slayer of men, is of itself an insuperable obstacle to the complete
+_personification_ of certain characters by a young gentleman of the age
+and stature of Master Payne. He might speak them with strict
+propriety--he might act them with feeling and spirit; but had he the
+general genius of Garrick--the energies of Mossop--the beauty of Barry,
+the elocution of Sheridan, and the art of Kemble, he could not with the
+feminine face and voice, and the unfinished person inseparable from such
+tender years, _personate_ them: nor so long as he is seen or heard can
+the perception of his nonage be excluded, or he be thought to represent
+that character, to the formation of which, not gristle, nor fair, round
+soft lineaments, but huge bone and muscle, well-knit joints, knotty
+limbs, and the hard face of Mars are necessary. If we find, as we do in
+many great works of criticism, objections made to the performance of
+several characters by actors of high renown merely for their deficiency
+in personal appearance--if the externals of Mr. Garrick are stated by
+his warmest panegyrists as unfitting him for characters of dignity or
+heroism, even to his exclusion from Faulconbridge, Hotspur, &c. and if
+we find that the greatest admirers of Barry considered the harmony and
+softness of his features, as reducing his Macbeth, Pierre, &c. to poor
+lukewarm efforts, how can it be expected that a boy, just started from
+childhood, should present a true picture of a warrior or a philosopher?
+We premise this for the purpose of having it understood that what we are
+to say of Master Payne is to be subject to these deductions, and that in
+the praise which it is but just to bestow upon him, we exclude all idea
+of external resemblance to the characters. Of the mental powers, the
+informing spirit, the genius, the feeling which he now discloses, and
+the rich promise they afford of future greatness--of these it is, we
+profess to speak: further we cannot go without insincerity, untruth, and
+manifest absurdity.
+
+As might have been expected from Master Payne's limited means of stage
+instruction, he several times discovered want of judgment. In the speech
+in which Norval tells his story, he trespassed on propriety in his
+efforts to throw an air of martial ardor into his expressions; by
+suddenly changing the key and raising the tone of his voice, and
+speaking with increased rapidity the words that more immediately related
+to fighting, erecting them into a kind of _alto relievo_ above the level
+of the rest; particularly in "I had heard of battles," &c. "We fought
+and conquered," &c. all which is a narrative that should be delivered
+with humility, and a strict avoidance of any thing like vainglory, or
+egotism, studiously softening down, with modest air, those details of
+his own prowess which the author has _necessarily_ given to the
+character.
+
+Had Master Payne had a Hough to instruct him, or a Cooke for his model,
+he would have escaped the error into which he fell in that part of the
+fourth act in which Norval describes the hermit who instructed him: he
+would have known that acting what he narrates is highly improper--indeed
+absurd; as it is acting in the first person, and speaking in the third
+at one and the same time. While he repeated the words
+
+  ----Cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts,
+  Described the motions, and explain'd the use
+  Of the deep column, and the lengthened line,
+  The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm,
+
+Master Payne cut those figures, and described the square and the
+crescent with his hands--a great error! A better lesson cannot be
+offered to a young actor on this subject than may be found in the novel
+of Peregrine Pickle, in which doctor Smollet ridicules Quin the player
+for acting narrative in Zanga.
+
+Master Payne would find it his interest to avoid as much as may be, long
+declamatory speeches, till his organs are enlarged and confirmed. But in
+those parts in which Douglas discloses his lofty spirit, and no less in
+all the pathetic parts, he far exceeded expectation, and deserved all
+the applause he received.
+
+  Oh, tell me who and where's my mother!
+  Oppressed by a base world, perhaps she bends
+  Beneath the weight of other ills than grief,
+  And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid
+  Her son should give----
+  Oh, tell me her condition.
+
+There was, in his delivering these lines, an expression of tenderness
+which appealed forcibly to the heart; and was rendered still more
+striking by the abrupt transition to his sword,
+
+  Can the sword----
+  Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?
+
+which he executed with a felicity that nothing but consummate genius
+could accomplish. Again he blazed out with _the true spirit_ in the
+following lines:
+
+  The blood of Douglas will protect itself.
+  Then let yon false Glenalvon beware of me.
+
+That part, however, in which he disclosed not only exquisite feeling but
+a soundness of judgment that would do honour to an experienced actor,
+was where Glenalvon taunts him, for the purpose of rousing his spirit to
+resentment. In that speech particularly which begins,
+
+  Sir, I have been accustomed all my days
+  To hear and speak the plain and simple truth.
+
+The suppression of his indignation in this and the succeeding
+passages--the climax of passion marked in his face, his tone and his
+action, when he says to himself
+
+  If this were told!----
+
+the gradation thence to
+
+  Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
+
+till at last he flames into ungovernable rage in
+
+  Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,
+  And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
+  I'd tell thee--what thou art--I know thee well.
+
+was altogether a string of beauties such as it rarely falls to the lot
+of the critic to commemorate. Had age and personal hardihood been added,
+it would have defied the cavils of the most churlish criticism, and
+deprived even enmity of all pretence to censure.
+
+The next striking beauty he disclosed was in his reply to Randolph, when
+the latter offers his arbitration between him and Glenalvon.
+
+  Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
+  My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
+
+The cold peremptory dignity he threw into these words was beautifully
+conceived, and executed in a masterly manner: nor was he less successful
+in the transition to an expression of poignant but smothered sensibility
+in the next line:
+
+  I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak
+  Th' opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
+
+His delivery of this and all the other lines of the speech that followed
+it, deserved the thunders of applause with which it was greeted--it was,
+indeed, admirable.
+
+In impassioned feeling lies Master Payne's strength. Hence his last
+scene was deeply affecting. Though we could well have spared that
+KEMBLEIAN dying trope, his rising up and falling again. It is because we
+seriously respect Master Payne's talents that we make this remark:
+clap-traps and stage trick of every kind cannot be too studiously
+avoided by persons of real parts.
+
+It would be injustice to omit one passage--
+
+  Just as my arm had mastered Randolph's sword
+  The villain came behind me----BUT I SLEW HIM.
+
+In the break, the pause, and the last four words he was inimitably fine.
+
+In Master Payne's performance of this character we perceived many
+faults, which call for his own correction. They are, we think, such as
+he has it in his power to get rid of. As they are general and pervade
+all his performances, we reserve our observations upon them till we
+close the course of criticism we are to bestow upon him, when we mean to
+sum up our opinion of his general talents. Meantime we beg leave to
+remind him that Mr. Garrick himself, after he had been near forty years
+upon the stage, often shut himself up for days together restudying and
+rehearsing parts he had acted with applause a hundred times before. _Sat
+sapienti._
+
+Nature has bestowed upon this young gentleman a countenance of no common
+order. Its expression has not yet unfolded itself; but we entertain no
+doubt that when manhood and diligent professional exercise shall have
+brought the muscles of his face into full relief, and strengthened its
+lines, it will be powerfully capable of all the inflexions necessary for
+a general player. At present the character of his physiognomy is
+perfectly discernible only upon a near view. When he advances towards
+the front of the stage, the lines may be perceived from that part of the
+pit and boxes which are near the orchestra; even then the shades are so
+very much softened by youth, and the parts so rounded, and so utterly
+free from acute angles, that they can, as yet, but faintly express
+strong, turbulent emotions, or display the furious passions. In a boy of
+his age, this, so far from being a defect, is a beauty, the reverse of
+which would be unnatural; and if it were a defect, every day that passes
+over his head would remedy it. What is now wanting in muscular
+expression, is in a great measure supplied by his eye, which glows with
+animation, and intelligence, and at times SPEAKS the language of a soul
+really impassioned. Upon a close view, when apart from the factitious
+aids and incumbrances of stage-lights, costume, and paint, he must be a
+shallow-sighted physiognomist who would not at the first glance be
+struck by Master Payne's countenance. A more extraordinary mixture of
+softness and intelligence never were associated in a human face. The
+forehead is particularly fine; Lavater would say that genius and energy
+were enthroned there; and over the whole, though yet quite boyish, there
+is a strong expression of what is called manliness; by which is to be
+understood, not present, but the indications of future manliness. How
+strongly and distinctly this is characterised in the boy's face, may be
+collected from an anecdote which, exclusive of its application to this
+subject, we think well worth relating on account of the other party
+concerned in it.
+
+A day or two before Master Payne left Philadelphia he and a friend of
+his walking in a remote part of the city, were encountered by a strange
+old woman, who requested alms with an earnestness which exacted
+attention. The gentleman who was in company with our youth, and from
+whom we deliver the story, being an Irishman, instantly recognizing in
+the petitioner, an unhappy countrywoman, stopped, surveyed her with more
+than cursory regard, and put his hand into his pocket in order to give
+her money. As there was in her aspect that which bespoke something that
+had once been better accommodated, and had claims above a common
+mendicant, he was searching in his pocket for a suitable piece of
+silver, when the generous boy outstripping him, put unostentatiously,
+into the old lady's hand some pieces of silver. She viewed them--drew
+back--gazed upon him for some seconds with a fixed look of wonder,
+delight and affection, then lifting up her eyes to heaven, in a tone of
+voice, and with a solemnity which no words can express, exclaimed, "May
+the great God of heaven shower down his blessings on YOUR INFANT YEARS,
+AND MANLY FACE!" Quickness of conception beyond all other people is now
+allowed, even by the English, to be characteristic of the people of
+Ireland, once considered by those of the sister kingdom as the B�otians
+of Britain; and we are disposed to concur with the Irish gentleman, who,
+in his exultation and honest prejudice said, "that the woman might be
+known to be Irish from her warm gratitude, her quick discernment, and
+her elegant extemporaneous compliment." In fact, if Edmund Burke
+himself, who exceeded all mankind in the quickness and elegance of
+complimentary replies, had been considering the matter a whole hour, he
+could not have uttered anything to surpass it.
+
+Of Master Payne's person we cannot speak (nor do we hope) so favourably
+as of his face. And we much fear that he will not undergo the pain of
+mending it by abstinence from indulgence. Early hours, active or even
+hard exercise, particularly of the gymnastic kind, and diligent
+unremitting study are as indispensable to his fame, if he means to be a
+player, as food or drink are to his support. In general his action is
+elegant--his attitudes bold and striking; but of the former he sometimes
+uses too much, and in his appropriation of the latter he is not always
+sufficiently discriminating. This was particularly observable in his
+performance of Frederick in Lover's Vows--a character in which we shall
+have occasion to speak of him, and with great praise in a future number.
+His walk too, which in his own unaffected natural gait is not
+exceptionable, he frequently spoils by a kind of pushing step, at open
+war with dignity of deportment. It would be well for this young
+gentleman if he had never seen Mr. Cooper. Perhaps he will be startled
+at this; and flatters himself that he never imitates that gentleman. We
+can readily conceive him to think so even at the moment he is doing it.
+To imitate another, it is not necessary to intend to do so. Every day of
+their lives men imitate without the intervention of the will. The
+manners of an admired, or much-observed individual, insensibly root
+themselves in a young person's habits--he draws them into his system, as
+he does the atmosphere which surrounds him. We doubt very much whether
+Mr. Cooper himself would not be surprised if he knew how much he
+imitates Kemble. Though seemingly a paradox, we firmly rely upon it--Mr.
+Cooper _may_ be aiming at Cooke, when he is by old habitual taint really
+hitting Kemble.[1] On this subject of imitation much is to be said.
+Kemble rose when every bright luminary of the stage had set. Being the
+best of his day, in the metropolis, he has become the standard of acting
+to the young and inexperienced; more from pride than want of judgment he
+goes wrong; his system of acting is radically vitious; but as it makes
+labour pass as a substitute for genius, by transferring expression from
+its natural organs to the limbs, and making attitude and action the
+chief representatives of the passions and the feelings, it not only
+fascinates because it catches the eye, but is adopted because extremely
+convenient to the vast majority of young adventurers on the stage, who,
+possessing neither the feelings fit for the profession, nor the organs,
+nor the genius to express them if they had, are glad to find a
+substitute for both. Hence the system of Mr. Kemble has spread like a
+plague--infected the growing race of actors, mixed itself with the very
+life-blood of the art, and extended its contagion through every new
+branch, even to the very last year's bud. Thus Mr. Kemble is imitated by
+those who never saw him. Let us tell Master Payne that it is the very
+worst school he could go to, this of the statuary. It is as much
+inferior to the old one--to that of Garrick, Barry, Mossop, and nature,
+as the block of marble from which the Farnesian Hercules was hewed, is
+to the god himself. Of its superiority we need urge no farther proof
+than that of Mr. Cooke, who, though assuredly inferior to several of the
+old stock, and groaning under unexampled intemperance, has in spite of
+every impediment which artful jealousy and envy of his talents could
+raise against him, risen so high in public estimation, that even when
+just reeking from offences which would not have been endured in Garrick
+or Barry, his return is hailed with shouts, as if it were a national
+triumph. And why?--because he is of the old school, and scorns the
+cajolery of statue-attitude and stage-trick.
+
+  [Footnote 1: Had Mr. Cooper entered on the profession in the days of
+  Garrick, we are persuaded he would, with the advantage of that great
+  man as a model, and the scientific Macklin as an instructor, have been
+  one of the first actors that ever existed.]
+
+We speak thus freely to Master Payne because we think he has talents
+worth the interposition of criticism, and if we speak at all, must speak
+the whole truth. The praise we give him might well be distrusted, if
+from any false delicacy we slurred over his defects and errors. The most
+dangerous rock in his way will be adulation. Sincerely we wish him to be
+assured that those who mix their applause with a proper alloy of censure
+are his best friends. Indiscriminate flatterers are no better than the
+snake which besmears its prey with slime, only to gorge it the more
+easily.
+
+On reviewing what we have written, we find no observation on Master
+Payne's voice, in which nature has been very bountiful to him. We heard
+him a few times, with no little pain strain it out of its compass. He
+need not do so; since, judiciously managed, it is equal to all the
+purposes of his profession. Those are dangerous experiments, by which
+he may spoil a voice naturally clear, melodious, and of tolerable
+compass. His pronunciation is at times hurtful to a very nice ear. He is
+not to imagine that he has spoken as he ought when he has uttered words
+as they are pronounced in general conversation. There are some, and high
+ones too, who will say "good boy" when they mean "goodbye;" and it would
+not be at all impossible to hear a very fine lady say that she was daown
+in taown, to buy a gaown. We do not accuse Master Payne of this; but at
+times a little of the _a_ cheats the _o_ of its good old round rights;
+so distantly however, as not to be noticed except by a very accurate
+ear--but he ought not to let _any ear_ discover it.
+
+To the correct orthoepist, several persons on the stage give offence in
+the pronunciation of the pronoun possessive MY--speaking it in all cases
+with the full open Y, as it would rhyme to _fly_, which should only be
+when it is put in contradistinction to _thy_ or _his_, or any other
+pronoun possessive: in all other cases it should be sounded like _me_.
+This is a pure Americanism, not practised in any other place where the
+English language is spoken, and, so far as it goes, deprives the word of
+a quality of nice distinctness.
+
+It gives us great pleasure to communicate to our readers the
+intelligence that Master Payne's success at Richmond, even surpassed
+that which he had met before. From a letter submitted to our perusal we
+have, with permission, made the following extract: "Wednesday night
+Payne arrived; Thursday was the first day of his performance; the other
+nights, being Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and
+Saturday, when the house closed for the season; and on Sunday he
+departed in the mail stage. This flying visit (of ten days only)
+produced him upwards of SEVENTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was our intention to confine our remarks on this occasion entirely to
+Master Payne. It seemed to us that the interest taken by the public in
+this native plant, the novelty of his appearance, and, indeed, his own
+merits, laid claim to a very particular discussion of his performances:
+but as we read over the play for that purpose, Mr. M'Kenzie's _Old
+Norval_ forced itself so imperiously upon our remembrance, that we could
+not drop the subject without doing justice to that gentleman's
+performance and our own feelings. It was a specimen of acting and
+speaking we little expected to meet with: masterly, chaste, and
+exquisitely affecting; no less gratifying to the critical ear than to
+the feeling heart. We particularly admired his attestation to heaven of
+his innocence:
+
+                          As I hope
+  For mercy before the judgment seat of heaven
+  The tender lamb that never nipt the grass
+  Is not more innocent than I of murder.
+
+And his pathetic supplication for mercy:
+
+  Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life,
+  Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail,
+  And by your children's welfare spare my age!
+  Let not the iron tear my aged joints,
+  And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain.
+
+The first of these he poured forth with an expression of simple
+sincerity, and the second with a gentle earnestness, so humble, so
+passionately moving, that none but the most hardened hearts could resist
+it. Even the gallery felt its force and made the house resound with its
+rude applause--'twas well; and we may say with Pierre,
+
+  We could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased us.
+
+As in the two former passages Mr. M'Kenzie presented a specimen of
+exquisitely pathetic expression, so he evinced his skill and powers of
+speaking in that speech which may be called the pride of the
+play--perhaps of all Scottish poetry too, in which he relates the
+finding of the child:
+
+  One stormy night, as I remember well,
+  The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof;
+  Red came the river down, and loud and oft
+  The angry spirit of the water shriek'd, &c.
+
+Lord Randolph is a character of which we doubt whether Cooke himself
+could make any thing. Mr. Warren did all that is usually done for him.
+
+Partial as we are to Mr. Wood's acting generally, we did not perceive in
+his performance of Glenalvon any thing to please us very much, or
+augment his reputation.
+
+In Lady Randolph, Mrs. Barrett would deserve much commendation, if she
+could get rid of a few faults in her speaking. Her feelings and personal
+appearance are finely adapted to the character.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A correspondent at Baltimore, of whose judgment we think highly, has
+sent us the following communication, and expressed a wish that we should
+publish it--at the same time acknowledging that it had been printed in
+some periodical paper. As we wish to oblige our correspondent, and there
+is no opinion in it which, according to our present idea of the company
+violently militates against our own, we give it a place.
+
+
+While so interesting a scene is now acting upon the great theatre of the
+world, and as the chief performer has recently closed one of the acts
+with a very important incident, it may, by many be considered as a
+relaxation, to employ a few minutes in taking a concise view of our own
+little theatre; the leader of which has also so lately closed his
+campaign in Baltimore.
+
+I am the more desirous of offering a few remarks upon this subject, from
+having occasionally heard observations indicating some disapprobation
+relative to our theatrical arrangements. Such impressions, we flatter
+ourselves, a little more information upon the subject, and a candid
+reconsideration will do away. From a knowledge of the state of the
+theatres in other parts of the continent, we feel ourselves perfectly
+safe in declaring, that ours is most unquestionably entitled to the
+first place, whether we have reference to the performers composing the
+company, the scenery, dresses, decorations or music.
+
+In tragedy and genteel comedy, Mr. Wood must certainly be considered
+preeminent, with the exception of Mr. Cooper only, who though perhaps[2]
+excelling him in some tragical characters, is considered by many good
+judges, as by no means his superior in many appertaining to genteel
+comedy.
+
+  [Footnote 2: Perhaps!!! Mr. Wood we dare say has too much good sense
+  to relish this _perhaps_, it rather savours of irony.]
+
+Mrs. Wood ranks high in the same line; the correct style in which she
+gives the sense of her author, the refinement of her taste and her clear
+and distinct utterance, must always ensure to her the approbation of an
+enlightened audience; we feel some reluctance in adding that her
+uniformity of declamation, and something in her tones approaching to
+monotony, retard her progress to that excellence to which the
+qualifications abovementioned must evidently lead her.
+
+Mr. Warren, viewed only as a performer, will be found fairly deserving
+of our praise. In the arduous character of the "inimitable and
+unimitated Falstaff" he has no rival on this side the Atlantic. In the
+other class of characters, to which he modestly confines himself, he is
+always correct and respectable.
+
+In Mr. Cone, we see a young performer gradually rising in estimation. To
+the manners of a gentleman, he adds a habit of discrimination, the
+effect of a liberal education; and could he get over a certain
+inflexibility of voice, (whether arising from nature or habit we know
+not) he must very soon become a distinguished performer.
+
+Mr. M'Kenzie is also a most respectable and useful actor: his person and
+manner give him many advantages in performing characters requiring
+dignity and firmness of deportment; as Glenalvon in Douglas, he is
+excellent; and those who have witnessed his performance of sir Archy
+M'Sarcasm and sir Pertinax M'Sycophant, will unite with us in paying him
+the tribute of applause for his correct personification of the wily
+Scotchman.--His talents do not seem calculated for genteel comedy in
+general.
+
+Mrs. Barrett must be considered as a very useful actress; her figure is
+well adapted to the characters she undertakes, and her general
+deportment upon the stage immediately indicates her perfect acquaintance
+with the boards.
+
+Mrs. Wilmot needs not our panegyric to call forward that public
+attention she has so long merited; her qualifications as an actress are
+uncommonly general--whether we see her in genteel comedy, or in the
+English opera, we are equally gratified with the diversity of her
+talents. As a singer, her voice and judgment are equally conspicuous,
+and those who have seen her in the character of Ophelia, will readily
+admit her claim to the pathetic.
+
+In addition to Mrs. Wilmot as a vocal performer, we have Mrs. Seymour,
+who possesses much sweetness and melody of tone, and whose modest and
+unassuming manner of giving her songs is not their smallest attraction.
+
+In low comedy where shall we find a competitor to Jefferson? The only
+performer who seems to bear the comparison for a moment is Twaits; but
+although we willingly subscribe to his merits, yet we can by no means
+admit him capable of that variety of character for which Mr. Jefferson
+is so distinguished.
+
+Mr. Blisset is also very prominent in the same line--Together with a
+fund of humour he possesses a whimsical eccentricity of character which
+is always diverting; his voice however, is frequently too weak to be
+heard in the remote parts of the house.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Francis have long enjoyed the _favour_ of the public.
+Francis has much comic talent, sometimes, however, he is led by it, a
+little too much into the caricature. Mrs. F. is not less diverting, and
+remarkable for her appropriate manner of dressing for old characters; a
+property very estimable. The ladies too often sacrifice a correct
+representation of the character in this respect, to an unconquerable
+aversion they so naturally retain of appearing old and ugly.
+
+Mr. West, lately added to the company, seems to promise something in low
+comedy; and Mr. Hardinge, in Irish characters, and vocal parts will
+certainly be an acquisition to the theatre. Although our dramatis
+person� do not afford much strength as to their vocal abilities; some of
+those abovenamed, with the assistance of Wilmot and Jacobs, form a group
+sufficient to render a musical piece very entertaining.
+
+It should be recollected, that in all theatrical companies, there must
+necessarily be a number of inferior rank; performers of merit will not
+take the minor parts abounding in every dramatic piece; and while we
+condemn a want of excellence in the performer, we should consider, that
+did he possess more talent, he would not fill that situation.
+
+Our orchestra will assuredly bear the strictest scrutiny.--The names of
+Gillingham and Niniger are sufficient of themselves to stamp its
+character. The other accompaniments are very respectable and
+sufficiently numerous. The scenery, as far as the scale of the stage
+will admit, is frequently beautiful, sometimes superb. The illuminated
+wings recently exhibited in some of the pieces last produced, are new to
+this country, and have a very brilliant effect: they do much credit to
+Messrs. Robins and Stewart in the painting-room. The dresses of the
+principal performers are rich and beautiful; to those who are acquainted
+with European theatres, it will not be considered as amplifying, when we
+assert, that we do not yield to them in that species of decoration. The
+management of the scenery is as correct and subject to as few
+interruptions as possible; and the expedition with which one act
+succeeds another, can be only appreciated by those who have witnessed
+the tedious delay so often experienced in other places.
+
+We are assured no pains have been spared by the manager to procure the
+most eminent performers; nor is any opportunity omitted to take
+advantage of the accidental presence of any performer, whose engagement
+promises to gratify the town.
+
+This theatre has taken the lead in getting up every thing novel, in
+either branch of the drama, and that in a style very much superior to
+any other establishment of the kind upon the continent. It must be
+evident that it is the wish, as it is the interest of the manager, to
+conduct the trust committed to him upon the most liberal principles:
+that which pleases the public most, is most favourable to him.
+
+It must be observed, that the limits of a sketch like this, could only
+admit of a very concise and general view of the subject. The writer has
+no farther connexion or interest in the theatre, than that he holds in
+common with those who are partial to dramatic entertainments, and who
+think with him that a well regulated theatre, which is the only public
+amusement Baltimore can boast of, instructs while it amuses, and
+conduces much to that grace and elegance of conversation and manners so
+fascinating in private life.
+
+
+
+
+IRISH MUSIC.
+
+
+In the last number, the reader was presented with a short sketch upon
+the subject of Irish music, in a letter from the celebrated poet Moore.
+That gentleman very philosophically ascribes the mixture of levity and
+melancholy which is discernible in the character, as well as the music
+of the original native Irish, to political circumstances. All who have
+paid attention to the airs of that country must have perceived that they
+are extremely lively and exhilarating, or delightfully plaintive and
+melancholy. The former may be considered as displaying the ground-work,
+or the natural temperament, the other the superinduced adventitious
+character, derived from poverty and oppression. A writer of considerable
+talents and intimate knowledge of the subject (Mr. Walker) adverting to
+the poetry as well as the music of Ireland, speaks as follows:
+
+"We see that music maintained its ground in this country even after the
+invasion of the English, but its style suffered a change; for the
+sprightly Phrygian gave place to the grave Doric, or the soft Lydian
+measure. Such was the nice sensibility of the bards, such was their
+tender affection for their country, that the subjections to which the
+kingdom was reduced affected them with the heaviest sadness. Sinking
+beneath this weight of sympathetic sorrow, they became a prey to
+melancholy: hence the plaintiveness of their music: for the ideas that
+arise in the mind are always congenial to, and receive a mixture from
+the influencing passion. Another cause might have occurred in the one
+just mentioned, in promoting a change in the style of our music; the
+bards often driven together with their patrons, by the sword of
+oppression, from the busy haunts of men, were obliged to lie concealed
+in marshes, and in glyns and vallies resounding with the noise of
+falling waters, or filled with portentous echoes. Such scenes as these,
+by throwing a settled gloom over the fancy, must have considerably
+increased their melancholy; so that when they attempted to sing, it is
+not to be wondered at that their voices, thus weakened by struggling
+against heavy mental depression, should rise rather by minor-thirds,
+which consist but of four semitones, than by major-thirds which consist
+of five. Now almost all the airs of this period are found to be set in
+the minor-third, and to be of the sage and solemn nature which Milton
+requires in his IL PENSEROSO."[3]
+
+  [Footnote 3: See Hist. Mem. of the Irish Bards.]
+
+To illustrate his position, Mr. Walker introduces the following
+anecdote: "About the year 1730, one Maguire, a vintner, resided near
+Charing Cross, London. His house was much frequented, and his skill in
+playing on the harp was an additional incentive: even the duke of
+Newcastle and several of the ministry sometimes condescended to visit
+it. He was one night called upon to play some Irish tunes; he did so;
+they were plaintive and solemn. His guests demanded the reason, and he
+told them that the native composers were too deeply distressed at the
+situation of their country, and her gallant sons, to be able to compose
+otherwise. But, added he, take off the restraints under which they
+labour, and you will not have reason to complain of the plaintiveness of
+their notes.
+
+"Offence was taken at these warm effusions: his house became gradually
+neglected, and he died soon after of a broken heart. An Irish harper who
+was a cotemporary of Maguire, and like him, felt for the sufferings of
+his country, had this distich engraven on his harp:
+
+  Cur lyra funestas edit percussa sonores?
+  Sicut amissum sors diadema gemit.
+
+But perhaps the melancholy spirit which breathes through the Irish music
+and poetry, may be attributed to another cause; a cause which operated
+anterior and subsequent to the invasion of the English: we mean the
+remarkable susceptibility of the Irish to the passion of love; a passion
+which the munificent establishment of the bards left them at liberty
+freely to indulge. While the mind is enduring the torments of fear,
+despair or hope, its effusions cannot be gay. The greater number of the
+productions of those amorous poets, Tibullus, Catullus, Petrarch and
+Hammond, are elegiac. The subject of their songs is always love, and
+they seem to understand poetry to be designed for no other purpose than
+to stir up that passion in the mind.
+
+
+
+
+SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.
+
+COLONEL THORNTON'S DEPARTURE FROM YORKSHIRE.
+
+
+Every true sportsman of this county must regret to hear that what has
+been for sometime rumoured has at last taken place. Colonel Thornton has
+been induced to part with Falconer's-hall, and if the report is true, we
+have to congratulate him in having selected the most enviable and
+princely domain in England, a residence unparalleled in its situation,
+either for a man of fashion, a _bon vivant_, or a sportsman. After
+having given the very best sport in hawking, coursing and hunting, at
+Scarborough, Falconer's-hall, and to the Saltergate Club, the colonel, a
+few days since, proceeded through York, in his way to Spy Park, in
+Wiltshire, followed by a cavalcade, (such as attracted the attention of
+the whole of this place) in the following order:
+
+First, the boat-wagon, so well known by the opponents of my lord Milton,
+and held by the owner invaluable, from having conveyed not less than
+three thousand independent free-holders of this virtuous county to vote,
+and ultimately, in spite of ministerial influence, to elect lord Milton,
+a descendent of that man, the pattern of patriotism and unexampled
+rectitude, Charles Watson Wentworth, marquis of Rockingham;--this wagon,
+admirably contrived for the carrying of luggage or loose dogs, covered
+with the skins of stags, fallow-deer and roebucks killed by the colonel,
+nets, otter spears, fishing rods, and guns, drawn by four thorough-bred
+cream-coloured Arabian mares bred by the king. Next a dog-cart, which
+carried milk-white terriers, and beautiful gray-hounds; these were all
+sheeted and embroidered with the different matches they had won: the
+novelty of this appeared to excite particular gratification. The
+huntsman, mounted upon a powerful, fine gray hunter, followed by an
+immense pack (judged not less than one hundred couple) of stag-hounds,
+fox-hounds, and otter-hounds, and lively lap-dog beagles. A stud-groom
+and four grooms, each leading a thorough-bred horse, the descendants,
+as it was said, of Jupiter;--deer-skins covered them by way of housing.
+A keeper appropriately dressed, with three brace of pointers. The
+falconer in green and silver, surrounded by hawks, and on his fist a
+venerable grand-duke, closed this procession. Following, we understand,
+there were nine wagon loads of old wine and ale, brought from Thornvile
+Royal, inestimable from its age, and held by the duke of York as the
+finest wine in the kingdom. These wines, moved at such an immense
+expense, were from twenty-five to an hundred years old.
+
+Many sportsmen, though delighted with the _coup d'[oe]il_, could not
+forbear saying they should never see such sport as they had enjoyed with
+the colonel, and envied those who were now to partake of his amusements
+and hospitality in Wiltshire.
+
+The distance we understand this cavalcade is to travel, is about two
+hundred miles. A farther account of this very valuable removal, and
+their safe arrival at their destination (and such was the sincere wish
+of all the spectators) we hope to give hereafter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Spy Park is situated in that part of the county of Wilts called North
+Wiltshire, which is very dissimilar, in geographical features and
+natural characteristics, to the southern portion of the county. Whilst
+the former is distinguished by its numerous inclosures, dairy farms, and
+manufacturing towns, the latter is chiefly occupied by the
+wide-spreading downs called Salisbury Plain.
+
+Spy Park has, for many generations, been the property of the Baynton
+family, some of whom appear to have been knights of St. John of
+Jerusalem, in the time of Henry II. The late sir Edward Baynton Holt,
+bart. died at the advanced age of ninety, in January, 1800, when his
+estates devolved to his son and heir, sir Andrew Baynton Holt, who has
+recently sold or let Spy Park to colonel Thornton.
+
+The mansion is a plain but spacious building, seated in a park which
+abounds with fine old oak and other timber trees. The grounds are
+diversified by bold swells and winding vallies, and command at various
+stations, some extensive and interesting prospects. To the south-east
+the bold promontory called Roundaway-hill, presents its steep acclivity,
+with its commanding encampment on the summit. A range of lofty
+chalk-hills extend thence for several miles to the east, on the southern
+face of which is the White-Horse of Cherril, and above it is another
+encampment, called Oldbury-castle.
+
+At the extremity of the park, towards the west, the grounds slope
+gradually to the river Avon, and its fertile meadows; and at an old
+gate, called the Spy, a very extensive tract of country is unfolded.
+Whilst the plantations of Bowden Park, and the venerable abbey of
+Laycock, attract the eye near the fore-ground, the lofty free-stone
+hills around Bath are seen in the middle distance, and a large tract of
+Gloucestershire is observed extending to the north-east; whilst the more
+picturesque and romantic features of Somersetshire are beheld,
+stretching to the horizon, in the west and south-western directions. The
+park includes an area of nearly eight miles in circumference, and during
+the residence of the late sir Edward, its venerable forest-like trees
+were sacredly preserved from the axe; they were, however, I am informed,
+considerably thinned by the last proprietor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Since the publication of colonel Thornton's departure from Yorkshire,
+the following letter has appeared in the public prints:
+
+I am happy to inform the public, through the medium of your interesting
+paper, that the cavalcade of colonel Thornton at this place, was
+distinguished by a junction of an immense number of sporting and other
+valuable paintings; together with a collection of rare exotic plants,
+and three wagon loads of bald-faced and other red deer, roebucks,
+Asiatic deer, and party-coloured fallow deer; a _garde chasse_ had the
+charge of two brace of Russian and French wild boars, the latter
+understood to be a present from Napoleon, in return for seventy couple
+of high-bred fox-hounds, descended from the famous old Conqueror, and
+sent to the emperor Napoleon during the last peace, whose high mettle
+afforded him the most exquisite gratification. A brace of cormorants
+with silver rings around their necks, and broke in for fish-hunting;
+together with ichneumons and pole-cat ferrit, for rat-hunting, and some
+beautiful milk-white Muscovy ducks, and a number of high-bred blood
+mares, foals, colts, fillies, and the two famous horses, the Esterhazy
+and Theodolite, closed this splendid procession; and it is understood
+that on their arrival at Spy Park they were met by the colonel and some
+sporting friends, who expressed their astonishment, that after having
+travelled through such almost impassable roads, amid torrents of rain,
+and particularly the lap-dog beagles, not more than thirteen inches and
+a half in height, and consequently often swimming, they should have
+arrived without the least injury.
+
+  I am, &c.
+    A SPECTATOR.
+
+  _Chippenham._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Rockdale races, the Brighton shepherd, so well known as a pedestrian,
+was matched against a horse of the honourable captain Harley Rodney's
+(rode by lord Rodney), for one hundred yards. This race, from its
+novelty, excited very considerable attention, and was won by the
+shepherd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A short time since, Rickets, the celebrated Hampshire pedestrian,
+undertook, for a wager of five guineas, to run seventeen miles in two
+hours, which he performed in one hour and forty-nine minutes. He has
+undertaken, for one hundred guineas, to run twenty miles in two hours,
+and will attempt it soon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An extraordinary feat of pedestrianism was performed, by a man of the
+name of Williams, steward to Mr. Crouch. He was backed for twenty
+guineas, to go twenty miles in two hours. He started at Hammersmith, and
+did the distance in unfavourable weather, in seven minutes within the
+given time. His track was from Colnbrook, and to return to near the
+Magpies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BUXTON BIT AND CHARLTON BRADOON.
+
+The former useful as well as elegant appendage to the harness of the
+dashing chariot of the day is just introduced by Charles Buxton, esq.
+The advantages arising from this improvement are obvious: in respect to
+their infallible quality of preventing the numberless accidents which
+daily occur by horses running away, they are peculiarly desirable. These
+bits are made upon a very simple construction; they give the person who
+has the reins in hand, the power of checking the horse by the most easy
+movement imaginable, however light in hand, or hard in mouth (boring on
+the bit) he may be. There are four loops in this regulating bit; in all
+others there is only one. Mr. Buxton very much opposes the principle on
+which lord Hawke, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Thornhill act, with respect to
+the chain, instead of the pole pieces. The Charlton bradoon, a favourite
+for more than twenty years, has lost its consequence by the new
+invention; the bearing rein now passes through the throat lash, but
+formerly it only entered the bit, and went straight to the territ.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two divines who rendered themselves so very conspicuous at the late
+punching match, at Moulsey, excuse themselves by observing, that the
+apostolic injunction, "a bishop should be no striker," was never
+intended to restrain the conduct of the inferior clergy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A match was made a short time ago, for one hundred guineas, play or pay,
+for a hack mare, the property of Mr. Sitwell, to perform fifty-six miles
+in four hours, with half an hour stoppage allowed for feeding. The match
+was undertaken soon after, from a spot near Shillingford, Berks, to
+Haunston, and the mare did her task in seven minutes less than the given
+time. She performed chiefly by the trot, and baited after going half the
+distance in three minutes less than half the time. The odds were
+considerably against the performance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A HARE CHASED BY A FLOCK OF GEESE!
+
+A flock of geese belonging to Mr. Lloyd, of the town-house, at Marford,
+seven miles from Chester, lately set a hare on the top of that hill,
+when poor puss, bursting from the cackling tribe, ran down the hill and
+was pursued by the whole flock, some flying, some running with extended
+wings till they overtook her, when puss slyly gave them the double; and,
+returning, was so closely pursued by the irritated flock as to be taken
+alive by a servant-girl of Mrs. Pate's, as she was attempting the latch
+in her mistresses garden, in the presence of upwards of twenty
+spectators. Her carcass was afterwards made a present of to a
+wedding-party in that neighbourhood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE WALKING-POST.
+
+The name of this extraordinary person, whose labours surpass any of the
+boasted pedestrian achievements, is William Brackbank. He is a native of
+Millom, in Cumberland. He daily performed the distance between
+Whitehaven and Ulverstone, on foot, under the disagreeable circumstance
+of frequently wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he
+constantly went, which is at least three miles round; and, including the
+different calls he had to make, at a short distance from the road, his
+daily task was not short of forty-seven miles. He is at present
+walking-post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of
+sixteen miles, which he performs every day, Sundays excepted; returns
+the same evening, and personally delivers the letters, newspapers, &c.
+in that populous and commercial county, to all near the road, which
+makes his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards; and
+what is more extraordinary, he has performed this business, for upwards
+of two years, without the intervention of a day, except Sunday, and has
+never varied a quarter of an hour, from his usual time of arriving at
+Glossop. He performs all this in less than twelve hours a day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A foot-race was run in the park between a lieutenant Hawkey and a Mr.
+Snowden of Nottingham-street. The distance was two hundred yards, the
+stakes fifty guineas, and the performers not being professional runners,
+some betting took place. The race was won by about a yard by Mr.
+Snowden, and the distance was performed in twelve seconds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PUGILISM.
+
+A battle took place at Wilsden Green, between Tom O'Donnell, and a
+countryman, by trade a boot-closer. They fought forty-five hard rounds,
+in which the countryman got a severe beating. Having boasted before the
+battle that he could beat any man, he left the field of action, as may
+be supposed, a little ashamed of himself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A severe battle was fought at Marlborough-common, Wilts, by Mr. Howell,
+hatter, and Mr. Titcomb, both of Marlborough. Soon after eight they set
+to, the former seconded by Mr. Mead, collar-maker, and the latter by an
+ostler at the Castle-inn. The first three rounds were in favour of
+Howell, who laughed at his antagonist, and told him if he could not
+strike harder he had better have staid at home; but the fourth round put
+an end to his laughing, having received a left-handed blow on his head,
+which cut his ear, and brought him to the ground; although he never
+recovered this blow, yet he stood twenty-five rounds and showed good
+bottom, but was so exhausted by the loss of blood, and so severely
+beaten in the body as well as his face, that he gave in to Titcomb, who
+said he had no objection to such exercise every morning in the week.
+
+A pitched battle for one hundred guineas, was fought at Bognor, Bucks,
+between a farmer of the name of Mitchell, who resides at Bognor, and a
+publican of the name of George. The match was made in consequence of a
+dispute respecting their merits as boxers. The battle lasted fifty-five
+minutes, in the presence of about one thousand spectators. It was what a
+professional boxer would have termed gluttony from beginning to ending.
+There was no advantage in skill, strength or bottom, the former of which
+neither of the champions possessed, but it was fighting in earnest at a
+scratch, until one was knocked down. Mitchell at length gave in, but he
+was able to walk away, which was not the case with the victor, who was
+put to bed at the house next the scene of action. The victor was
+seconded by Jones, a professional bruiser from London.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A remarkable instance of the effects of fear on irrational animals
+lately occurred in Blickling Park, Norfolk, during the races there: At
+the very height of sport, a covey of partridges sprang up, and were
+flying across the ground, when overcome with alarm at the noise and
+bustle of the scene, they fell lifeless among the crowded throng, and
+were picked up by some of the spectators.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A singular occurrence lately took place at Cobham church: The earl of
+Darnley was followed there by one of his pointers, which shortly became
+mad, and threw the whole congregation into confusion and alarm. A
+countryman, with great courage, procured a rope, and slipped it round
+the animal's neck, and hung him across one of the pews. Fortunately no
+person sustained any injury.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A most enormous shark was lately caught by the fishermen at Hastings; it
+was entangled in seventeen of their nets, and completely broke them all;
+but being wounded and nearly spent, they contrived to tow on shore this
+monster of the deep. It measures thirty feet in length, and upwards of
+twenty in circumference, and is supposed to weigh at least ten ton; has
+four rows of teeth, and the throat is so large that it could swallow a
+man with the greatest ease. It is considered to be the largest of the
+species ever met with in any of the seas of Europe. Colonel Bothwell has
+purchased it for his friend Mr. Home, the surgeon, of Sackville-street,
+who intends to dissect it, and place the skeleton in his museum.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DUCK SHOOTING.
+
+FROM "FOWLING,"--A POEM.
+
+    The shadowy Night has nearly run her course
+  Over the silent world--the cock repeats
+  His warning note--behooves us to prepare
+  For our expected sport. Now when the stars
+  Slowly decrease, and the faint glimmering light,
+  First trembles in the east, we hasten forth,
+  To seek the rushing river's wandering wave.
+  The doubtful gloom shall favour our approach,
+  And should we through th' o'erhanging bushes view
+  The dim-discovered flock, the well-aim'd shot
+  Shall have insur'd success, nor leave the day
+  To be consum'd in vain. For shy the game,
+  Nor easy of access: the fowler's toils
+  Precarious; but inur'd to ev'ry chance,
+  We urge those toils with glee. E'en the broad sun,
+  In his meridian brightness, shall not check
+  Our steady labour; for some rushy pool,
+  Some hollow willowy bank, the skulking birds
+  May then conceal, which our stanch dogs shall pierce,
+  And drive them clam'ring forth. Those tow'ring rocks,
+  With nodding wood o'erhung, that faintly break
+  Upon the straining eye, descending deep,
+  A hollow basin form, the which receives
+  The foaming torrent from above. Around
+  Thick alders grow. We steal upon the spot
+  With cautious step, and peering out, survey
+  The restless flood. No object meets our eye.
+  But hark what sound is that approaching near,
+  "Down close," The wild-ducks come, and darting down,
+  Throw up on ev'ry side the troubled wave;
+  Then gayly swim around with idle play,
+  With breath restrain'd, and palpitating heart,
+  I view their movements, whilst my well-taught dogs
+  Like lifeless statues crouch. Now is the time,
+  Closer they join; nor will the growing light
+  Admit of more delay--with fiery burst,
+  The unexpected death invades the flock;
+  Tumbling they lie, and beat the dashing pool,
+  Whilst those remoter from the fatal range
+  Of the swift shot, mount up on vig'rous wing,
+  And wake the sleeping echoes as they fly.
+  Quick on the floating spoil my spaniels rush,
+  And drag them to the shore.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MISCELLANY.
+
+
+A more lively and yet poignant satire upon the wilful corruption of the
+stage, the degeneracy of the public taste, and the reigning follies of
+the British nation can scarcely be imagined than the following, which,
+with several more under the same signature, has appeared in a celebrated
+periodical work in London.
+
+_To the right worshipful John Bull, of the united kingdom of Great
+Britain and Ireland._
+
+RESPECTED SIR,
+
+Denied access to your sacred person, I avail myself of the press to
+solicit your notice. You have, doubtless, by this time totally forgotten
+poor Theobaldus Secundus, for short memories are not the exclusive
+property of great wits. Truth is said to lie at the bottom of a well,
+and as your worship seldom looks beyond the surface, I am not surprised
+that she should hitherto have eluded your researches. If fate has
+ordained my inkstand to be the bucket that shall draw her from her
+watery grave for your edification, I expect a premium from your humane
+society for my pains. If not, "you may kill the next Percy yourself." I
+am now to solicit your patience, while I recount my adventures, in doing
+which I shall ape the dignity rather than the prolixity, of the runaway
+prince of Troy, when seated on the high bed of the enamoured queen of
+Carthage.
+
+I am, may it please your worship, grand nephew to the renowned Lewis
+Theobald, one of those numerous broth-spoiling commentators, who have
+smothered poor Shakspeare in the onion sauce of conjectural criticism.
+My great uncle was, with reverence be it spoken, a great blockhead; but
+that was no fault of his, he being a younger brother, and the family
+genius being vested in my grandfather, with remainder to his sons in
+tail male. From my earliest childhood I have looked upon Shakspeare as
+the real king of England, and the two winter theatres as his proper
+palaces. "The period spent on stubborn Troy," has now elapsed, since I
+began a commentary on the plays of our immortal bard. O, the rivers of
+ink that I have exhausted in cleansing his Augean page from the
+black-letter filth heaped upon it by his different commentators! The
+task was laborious, but such labour is my delight. The waters of Avon
+suit my palate better than Boniface's ale. "I eat my Shakspeare, I drink
+my Shakspeare, and (when certain players enact him) I always sleep upon
+my Shakspeare."
+
+Apollo was a doctor of physic as well as a doctor of divinity, and
+Dryden, we are told, took his physic whenever he wanted to borrow his
+inspiration. A dramatic writer of the present day writes tragedy in a
+helmet facing a mirror. Ever while you live encourage the imagination!
+My faith in Shakspeare is so unbounded, that I verily believe the
+hell-broth of Macbeth's witches would, if properly mixed, engender a
+real armed head and bloody child. I lately at a great expense, collected
+all the materials in my kitchen-copper; I must own the experiment
+failed; but I found out the cause. The resurrection man, whom I employed
+to get me the "liver of blaspheming Jew," had made free with the corpse
+of a very religious man of that persuasion. I must be more careful
+another time--but this is foreign to our present purpose.
+
+Having completed my commentary, my parched hopes sighed for the golden
+shower, which I expected from presenting my dedication to your worship.
+The times were tempting, your two winter playhouses were at that time
+experiencing a nightly overflow, and a Tragedy was, as she should be,
+all the rage! I knew not the cause, but rejoicing in the effect, huddled
+my manuscript into my great-coat pocket, and trotted to your residence
+in Portland-place. For be it known, sir, to those whom it may concern,
+(your tradesmen) that you no longer reside within five minutes' walk of
+the Royal Exchange. Formerly you passed your evenings in posting your
+leger, and shaking your head at the follies of Fashion; you now exhaust
+that portion of the day in posting to the opera, or shaking your heels
+at Willis's rooms, and your elbows at the Union Club. If I felt pleased
+at finding you at home, how was my satisfaction increased, by hearing
+from a yellow-bellied waspish footman that you were busy with the first
+tragedian of the day? Good! said I to myself, this must be Kemble: there
+is no man better able to appreciate my labours--I'll break in upon them
+without ceremony. On approaching your worship's door, I heard the words
+"knuckle down" articulated in a shrill voice. I thought this an odd
+exclamation for the first tragedian of the day; but how was I petrified
+with astonishment, on entering the room, to find you on your knees,
+playing at marbles with the little Roscius! Speechless with admiration I
+retired unperceived. To have deranged a single taw would, in my mind,
+have been a sacrilege as great as an attempt to upset the balance of the
+Copernican system. I had scarce time to reflect on your improvement in
+dramatic taste, when I learned that you had engaged a Roscia at your
+theatre in Covent-Garden. Indeed, so wide had your love of the rising
+generation at that time extended, I was credibly informed that Genoa was
+on the point of shipping a squalling Roscium for the edification of your
+opera-house, when the bubble burst like the gas of the Pall-Mall
+lamp-lighter: Reason's dragon-teeth had been buried long enough, and a
+race of men succeeded. The worshipful John Bull acted the part of the
+cow, in Tom Thumb. Ridicule, that infallible emetic of sick minds, had
+eased your stomach of its baby incumbrance; Miss Mudie returned to her
+mamma, and Master Betty also retired to break Priscian's head, and hide
+his own in the bosom of alma mater.
+
+How elastic is hope when a man thinks he has written a good book, and
+what mortal ever supposed himself the author of a bad one? _Quassas
+reficit rates._ I again collected my darling notes on Shakspeare, and in
+the firm hope that your stomach was well disposed to its natural
+aliment, assaulted your door with face as brazen as the knocker I
+handled. It was Saturday night, and your yellow barouche was waiting at
+the door, but I confidently reckoned upon five minutes' conversation
+with you, ere you repaired to the evening lecture, to which I concluded
+a sober man like you was about to adjourn. While hesitating upon the fit
+mode to address you, a figure descended the stairs, which, at first
+sight, I mistook for an Alguazil, in a plethora, but upon nearer
+approach found to be your worshipful self, posting to the opera, clad in
+a great-coat of the newest cut, all fringe and frippery, the offspring
+of a German tailor. You and your cloak were so enveloped in frogs and
+self-conceit, that I could compare you to nothing but king Pharaoh,
+inoculated with a plague greater than any in Egypt, an Italian singer.
+After desiring me in a surly tone, to call tomorrow morning, your
+worship mounted your vehicle, and scampered away to the region of
+recitative. O, cried I, in bitterness of spirit, why has John Bull, my
+revered patron, quitted his city residence? in his warehouse he has
+bales of cotton in abundance, and might, like the wise Ulysses, stuff
+his large and long ears with a portion of that commodity, to enable him
+to escape the snares of the Haymarket syren.
+
+Those who have patrons must also have patience. I dissembled my chagrin,
+and you may remember, most worshipful sir, that I called the ensuing
+day, at two o'clock, to allow you time to ponder on the morning's
+service. Alas! I was now fated to be forestalled by a son of France, as
+I had before been by a daughter of Italy. Both kingdoms boast the same
+emperor, and their natives come hither upon the same embassy. While I
+and Shakspeare were kicking our heels in the hall, you and Mons.
+Deshayes were kicking yours before a pier glass in the drawing-room. I
+had soon the satisfaction to observe your worship endeavouring to
+imitate the te-totum pirouettes of that agile gentleman, in doing which
+you bore a much stronger resemblance to the dervise in the Arabian Tale,
+inasmuch, as after spinning some time, you threw down a purse, which the
+wily foreigner, as light of finger as of foot, did not fail to pocket.
+This, to be sure was no time for Shakspeare; I, therefore, left your
+worship, hoodwinked by the Frenchman, _so turn about three times and
+catch whom you may_.
+
+I now sported the sullens in dignified retirement--but it would not do:
+murder will out, and so will manuscripts. I resolved to make one more
+effort. But were I to bring to your recollection all the mortifying
+repulses I endured, I should quite destroy that patience of which you
+stand so much in need, to listen to the debates at the next meeting of
+your common council. At one time, naked from the waist upwards, you were
+waging war with Belcher, the _Hittite_: at another, you had taken an
+invisible girl into keeping: your cash was drained by lotteries,
+missionaries, and mountebanks of all sorts and sizes: boys, even the
+deaf, the dumb, and the blind, quitted their asylum in St. George's
+Fields, for a more lucrative one on the boards of your theatres. Your
+comic operas were, like Muzio Clementi's carts, mere vehicles for music,
+and vehicles withal of such a clumsy fabric, that poor Euterpe, when she
+took her nightly airings, reminded the spectator of Punch's wife in a
+wheelbarrow; every expense was incurred, and every scribbler taken into
+pay, except poor Shakspeare and his poorer commentator.
+
+One morning, about eleven o'clock, as I was indulging myself in a
+solitary ramble over Blackfriars-bridge, I espied your well-known
+barouche, which I followed, and observed to stop at the Elephant and
+Castle! Heighday! said I, this is a metamorphosis indeed! John Bull has
+returned to nature at last. He prefers "the sanded floor that grits
+beneath the tread," to a Persian carpet, and a pot of porter to the
+"wines of France and milk of Burgundy." I'll go and smoke a pipe with
+him! here again I was in error, your carriage having passed the
+public-house, and stopped at a methodist meeting adjoining. It seems
+your worship had, with religious abhorrence, passed by the Elephant and
+Castle, but borrowing in part the imagery of that sign, had converted
+your half-reasoning self into a clumsy Christian pedler, with a bundle
+of contraband goods at your back. One Joanna, it seems, was the
+priestess of this temple, and your worship had commenced so strong a
+flirtation with the Lambeth sybil, that all the world looked upon
+wedlock as inevitable. As I stood in the porch, I overheard your amatory
+sighs and groans which sounded in my ears like Boreas wooing Vulcan
+through a cranny in a chimney-corner. On approaching your pew, how was I
+struck with the change in your physiognomy! Your face heretofore as red
+and round as the full moon, had, by the joint influence of that planet
+and the aforesaid Joanna, extended itself to a length, which Momus
+forbid mine should ever attain, unless when reflected from a
+table-spoon, at the Piazza coffee-house!
+
+It was now confidently reported, that the days of Jeremy Collier had
+returned: that the theatres were to be shut up, his majesty's servants
+to receive their arrears of scarlet cloth, for regimentals to serve him
+in the capacity of foot-soldiers: that the slayers of Syntax, who had
+stuffed their mouths with melo-drames, and other pernicious compounds,
+were to turn hewers of wood, and that your worship would license no
+pantomimes, except those exhibited in the Blackfriars and
+Tottenham-court roads.
+
+This intelligence rather pleased than alarmed me. I believed it only to
+a certain extent, conceiving the fact to be, that my respected patron
+was sick of silk banners and Peruvian suns, exhausting more gold than
+they engendered, and that a ray of true taste was hereafter to dawn upon
+the dramatic horizon. "The theatre," exclaimed I, "is the school of
+morality; and morality and religion are inseparable." Without stopping
+to prove my syllogism, I seized my commentary, and with a head and a
+great-coat pocket full of my immortal labours, called once more in
+Portland-place. You received me with civility, desired me to take a
+seat, and treated me with a cup of chocolate, declining to take any
+yourself, on account of a nausea at your stomach, which I ascribed to a
+certain sentimental pill you had lately swallowed, rolled up in the
+shape of a comedy, and for which I undertook to prescribe. You requested
+me with eagerness to do so, and I drew my manuscript from my pocket,
+thinking the golden moment at hand. I conjured you to consider, that in
+dramatic entertainments the love of show was like the love of money, and
+increased by indulgences, beyond the power of a manager to gratify: I
+proved by mathematical demonstration, that small theatres wanted nothing
+but good dialogue to support them: I entreated you to send your gorgeous
+trumpery to rag-fair, and to diminish your overgrown Drury, which no man
+could now think of entering unaccompanied by a telescope and an
+ear-trumpet. All the persuasions of a Tully, all the energy of a
+Waithman, were enlisted into my harangue; which finished by exhorting
+your worship to step back half a century in your dramatic career, to a
+period when theatrical property was somewhat more than a mouthful of
+moonshine;--when Shakspeare was, indeed as he should be, and when
+nothing was talked of in this great metropolis, save the great Goliath
+of Stratford, on the banks of the Avon, and little David, of the
+Adelphic terrace, on the banks of the Thames.
+
+This eloquent harangue was no sooner concluded, than your worship burst
+into a horse-laugh, and stamping your foot on the floor, the room was
+instantly filled with as motley a group as ever giggled decorum out of
+countenance at a masquerade: among whom I recognized a zany, with a
+blue perriwig, bestriding a large goose, and brandishing a golden egg,
+whilst your worship was clapping your hands in all the raptures of
+applause. "Perdition seize this fellow," cried your worship, pointing to
+me, "his tongue chatters like a cherry-clapper, and lies like the
+prospectus of a new magazine! All you, my pimps, parasites, and
+pensioners--my leading mistresses and led captain--my mummers and
+melo-dramatists, who conspire to drill holes in the breeches-pockets of
+John Bull, that his coin may not corrode for want of circulation; if
+ever this fellow enters my house again, with his deer-stealing Stratford
+vagabond under his arm, tie them both up in a hopsack, and throw them
+into the Thames!
+
+Such treatment, sir, I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.
+When I expected the golden apple,--to be then pelted with a golden egg,
+was too much for human endurance; I, therefore, took my leave with the
+following address: "May your worship's stage be glutted with monsters,
+running upon all fours, with your own taste! May wit and humour wing
+their flight to another region, and the mighty void be supplied by
+maukish sentiment, horse-collar grins, wood-demons, and other
+show-cattle of the Smithfield muses! May you be visited by a locust
+tribe of scribblers, who shall conspire to torment that groaning martyr,
+the Press, with ducal lampoons, drowsy epics, and zig-zag heroics! With
+Hope the upholsterer, and Bryon the idler, with Joe Miller in quarto,
+Genius in thin duodecimo, Leadenhall romances, and Puritan biography:
+and should your worship ever find yourself deviating from the path of
+virtue, may _Hannah Glasse_ preserve your temperance, _Hannah More_ your
+soberness, and _Anacreon Moore_ your chastity!"
+
+One word more, sir, and I take my leave. It was the opinion of Ophelia's
+grave digger, that your worship was to the full as mad as the
+hare-brained lover of that young lady. This circumstance gives that
+royal youth a title to your first regards: my annotations on _Hamlet,
+Prince of Denmark_, shall accordingly be submitted to your consideration
+at our next monthly meeting,
+
+  I am, &c,
+    THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DR. YOUNG.--THE BROTHERS.
+
+Young, the celebrated author of the Night Thoughts, wrote a tragedy
+called the Brothers, and appropriated the profits of his third nights of
+the representation for the benefit of some public charity. But the
+proceeds falling short of one thousand pounds, which he had expected
+would have been raised in this way, he very bountifully supplied the
+deficiency by an additional donation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+OTHELLO BURLESQUED.
+
+There was formerly in the Northern Liberties a petty theatre, called
+Noah's Ark, from its being in the neighbourhood of a tavern, of which
+that was the sign. A ludicrous circumstance took place there about
+twenty years ago; a hobble-de-hoy, of the name of Purcell, with a wizen
+face like "Death and Sin," having met with misfortunes, hired the
+theatre for one night, and advertised Othello for his benefit. He played
+himself the character of the valiant Moor. As he had many friends who
+made considerable exertions in his favour, the house was crowded. His
+acting was so truly ludicrous, that the audience instead of letting fall
+the pearly drops over their cheeks, were in an unceasing roar of
+laughter. Between the play and the farce a drunken fellow of the name of
+Vaughan was to deliver the celebrated epilogue of "Bucks, have at ye
+all." He had made the most solemn promise to abstain from his usual drop
+of grog till he had performed his tour of duty. But alas! poor human
+nature, like other great men, he yielded to the temptation of a flowing
+bowl. When he came on the stage, and had just made a beginning--
+
+  "Ye social friends--
+
+A slight hiss was heard, which enraged him so much that he stopped, and
+looked among the audience with indignation, trying to discover what
+jealous rival was endeavouring to discompose him--a silence ensued for a
+minute; Vaughan then began again:
+
+  Ye social friends of claret and of wit,
+  Where'er dispersed in merry groupes ye sit.
+
+About ten or a dozen persons then hissed pretty loudly. Vaughan stamped
+on the floor, clenched his fist, struck his thigh, and cried out in a
+loud voice, "damn you, ye black-guards--I wish I had you here--I'd soon
+settle you." A universal hiss took place--the enraged orator was pelted
+off the stage, and poor Purcell had to come forward and make an apology.
+In this extemporaneous effort, his success was as splendid as in his
+performance of Othello. He hoped, he said, the ladies and gentlemen
+would not go for to say, for to do, for to think that he was at all to
+blame--that it was all Dr. Vaughan's fault--for though he had promised
+to keep sober till the play was over, he had got as drunk as David's sow
+before it began. This elegant harangue produced the desired effect, and
+appeased the angry passions of the gods and goddesses. A parley ensued.
+Peace was made. A promise was given that Vaughan should be allowed to
+proceed without hissing--and he accordingly came out and recited the
+epilogue, now and again looking among the audience to discover who was
+murmuring a slight hiss, which the keen ears of the speaker would not
+let escape. As soon as he was done, he had the high gratification of a
+universal hiss from almost every individual in the house, and was once
+more pelted off in spite of all his ire and loudly vociferated threats.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VANDERMERE.
+
+This performer was the most complete Harlequin that ever trod the
+British stage. His agility was to the last degree astonishing. He has
+leaped through a window on the stage, when pursued by the clown, full
+thirteen feet high. Whenever he was in the play-bills in Dublin, he
+attracted crowded houses. One night, when he had a prodigious leap to
+perform, the persons behind the scenes who were to have received him in
+a blanket, were not prepared in time, and of course he fell on the
+boards, and was miserably bruised. He then took a most solemn oath, that
+he would never leap again on the stage. Nor did he violate his oath.
+Thenceforward, when he performed Harlequin, George Dawson, another
+actor about his size, and very active, was attired in the party-coloured
+robes. Whenever in the course of the pantomime a leap was requisite,
+Vandermere passed off on one side--Dawson came in on the other, and
+leaped. Then Vandermere returned and went through the Harlequinian
+tricks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A TRUE STORY.
+
+    In days of yore, th' historic page
+  Says, women were proscrib'd the stage;
+  And boys and men in petticoats
+  Play'd female parts with Stentor's notes.
+  The cap, the stays, the high-heel'd shoe,
+  The 'kerchief and the bonnet too,
+  With apron as the lily white,
+  Put all the male attire to flight--
+  The culotte, waistcoat, and cravat,
+  The bushy wig, and gold-trimm'd hat.
+  Ye gods! behold! what high burlesque,
+  Jane Shore and Juliet thus grotesque!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  King Charles one night, jocund and gay,
+  To Drury went, to see a play--
+  Kynaston was to act a queen--
+  But to his tonsor he'd not been:
+  He was a mirth-inspiring soul
+  Who lov'd to quaff the flowing bowl--
+  And on his way the wight had met
+  A roaring bacchanalian set;
+  With whom he to "_the Garter_" hies,
+  Regardless how time slyly flies.
+  And while he circulates the glass,
+  Too rapidly the moments pass;
+  At length in haste the prompter sends.
+  And tears Kynaston from his friends;
+  Tho' he'd much rather there remain,
+  He hurries on to Drury Lane.
+  When in the green-room he appear'd,
+  He scar'd them with his bushy beard,
+  The barber quick his razor strops,
+  And lather'd well _her royal chops_:
+  While he the stubble mow'd away,
+  The audience curs'd such long delay:
+  They scream'd--they roar'd--they loudly bawl'd.
+  And with their cat-calls _sweetly_ squall'd:
+  Th' impatient monarch storm'd and rav'd--
+  "_The queen, dread sire, is not quite shav'd_!"
+  Was bellow'd by the prompter loud--
+  This cogent reason was allow'd
+  As well by king as noisy crowd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VOLTAIRE'S IDEA OF ORIGINALITY IN WRITING.
+
+A young poet having consulted him on a tragedy full of extraordinary
+incidents, Voltaire pointed out to him the defects of his piece. The
+writer replied, that he had purposely forsaken the beaten track of
+Corneille and Racine. "So much the worse," replied Voltaire,
+"originality is nothing but judicious imitation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day when his Irene was performing at the house of the marquis de
+Villette, a celebrated actress reciting her part rather negligently,
+Voltaire said to her, "Really, mademoiselle, it is unnecessary for me to
+write verses of six feet, if you gulp down three of them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the performance of one of his tragedies, the success of which was
+equivocal, the abbe Pellegrin complained loudly that Voltaire had stolen
+some verses from him. "How can you, who are so rich," said the abbe,
+"thus seize upon the property of another?" "What! have I stolen from
+you?" replied Voltaire; "then I no longer wonder that my piece has met
+with so little approbation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+KNOW THYSELF.
+
+There is an anecdote related in the Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV,
+which reflects some credit on that monarch's understanding, and may be
+of service to multitudes of the _bourgeoisie_ of every city in the
+world, if properly digested and acted upon.
+
+A _negociant_, who took the lead of all the rest in Paris, was in
+particular favour with the king, and without formality consulted by him,
+in all that he wished to know relating to mercantile affairs. At length
+the man of the counting-house, whose wealth was enormous, felt his
+ambition excited, and nothing would content him but a _title_. After
+many fruitless overtures, Louis at last granted his request, and never
+treated him with friendly familiarity again. The trader, exceedingly
+hurt at this neglect, made free one day to inquire the cause. "It is
+your own fault," said the monarch, "you have degraded yourself--you were
+the first as a merchant--you are the lowest as a peer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MADAME MARE AND FLORIO.
+
+This once celebrated singer has, according to German papers, retired to
+an estate in Poland. During her late residence at Moscow, her companion
+Florio, was involved in a very unpleasant affair. A letter, signed
+Richard Florio, written in French, and filled with invectives against
+the Russian government, was put into the post office at St. Petersburgh.
+The person it was addressed to handed it over to the police. Florio was
+arrested at Moscow, and conveyed prisoner to St. Petersburgh. Here,
+however he was speedily released, his name being not Richard, but
+Charles, and it appearing that he was totally ignorant of the French
+language. The emperor Alexander overhearing of the circumstances, made
+Florio a present of a handsome sum of money, over and above the expenses
+he had been put to in his journey from Moscow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEWIS'S RETIREMENT FROM THE STAGE.
+
+That celebrated comedian, the inimitable LEWIS, retired from the stage
+in May last, to devote the residue of his days to tranquil domestic
+enjoyment. His talents and prudence have enabled him to sit down with
+property sufficient for all the rational purposes of life. Since his
+retirement he made a transfer in the bank of five thousand pounds to
+each of his three daughters, and now, say the wits of London, many a
+Bassanio will doubtless say, their
+
+                                _Sunny_ locks
+  Hang on their temples like a golden fleece.
+
+It was on the night of his own benefit that Mr. Lewis took a formal and
+final farewell of the public, under circumstances so honourable to him
+as no actor, perhaps has ever been able to boast of. _During the
+thirty-six years he had been a player, he had never once fallen under
+the displeasure of his audience._ The play was "Rule a Wife and have a
+Wife," in which he performed THE COPPER CAPTAIN. After the comedy, when
+the curtain dropped, Mr. Lewis came forward and addressed the house in
+the following words:
+
+  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
+
+  "I have the honour of addressing you for the last time. This is the
+  close of my theatrical life; (loud cries of no! no!) and I really
+  feel so overcome by taking leave forever of my friends and patrons;
+  that might it not be deemed disrespectful or negligent I could wish
+  to decline it; (Loud applause, and a cry of go on! go on!) but it
+  is a duty which I owe, and I will attempt to pay it, conscious I
+  shall meet your indulgence; for when I remind you that I have been
+  thirty-six years in your service, and cannot recollect to have
+  fallen once under your displeasure, my dramatic death cannot be met
+  by me without the strongest emotions of regret and gratitude.
+
+  "I should offer my acknowledgments for innumerable acts of kindness
+  shown to my earliest days, and your yet kinder acceptance of, and
+  partiality shown to my latest efforts; all these I powerfully feel,
+  though I have not the words to express those feelings.----But while
+  this heart has a sensation it will beat with gratitude.
+
+  "Ladies and gentlemen, with the greatest respect, and, if you will
+  admit the word, the sincerest affection, I bid you farewell."
+
+During the delivery of this address, Mr. Lewis was evidently much
+affected. His voice faultered, and the tear started from his eye. The
+audience were also much affected at this parting scene, and took leave
+of their favourite with loud and universal acclamations. The house was
+crowded to excess.
+
+Thus (says the London writer) every hour is seen stealing from this
+stock of harmless pleasure, and our theatrical register serves only to
+record our losses. What can we put in balance against the death of
+Parsons, Suett, Palmer, and King, and the retirement of Mrs. Mattocks,
+Miss Pope, and Mr. Lewis?--Nothing. What is there in prospect?--the
+further loss of Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Jordan. These two stars of the
+first magnitude will also soon be missing in the theatrical hemisphere,
+and where is he who can say that he has discovered any promise that this
+light will, in our time, be repaired?--Nowhere.
+
+  "The greatest fires are out, and glimmering night succeeds."
+
+On his taking a final leave of the Dublin stage, Mr. Lewis spoke the
+following address:
+
+  From ten years old till now near fifty-six,
+  Of all I've gained, the _origin_ I fix
+  _Here on this fav'rite spot_; when first I came
+  A trembling candidate for scenic fame,
+  In numbers _lisping, here_ that course began
+  Which, through your early aid, has smoothly ran;
+  Here too, returning from your sister land,
+  Oft have I met your smile, your lib'ral hand:
+  Oft as I came Hibernia still has shown
+  That hospitality so much her own.
+  But _now_ the prompter, _Time_, with warning bell,
+  Reminds me that I come to bid farewell!
+  With usual joy this visit I should pay,
+  But _here_, adieu is very hard to say.
+  Yet take my thanks for thousand favours past--
+  My wishes that your welfare long may last--
+  My promise that, though Time upon this face
+  May make his annual marks, no time can chase
+  Your memory here, while memory here has place.
+  My meaning is sincere, though plainly spoke--
+  My heart, like yours, I hope, is heart of oak;
+  And that although the bark, through years, may fail ye,
+  The trunk was, is, and will be true shillaly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MAN AND WIFE.
+
+_The Comedy annexed to this number._
+
+The favourable reception which this comedy met in London, will no doubt
+induce the managers of America to produce it on their boards. For _this
+reason_ it has been selected by the editors.
+
+In the general reception of this comedy on the stage, the author has
+been more successful than in the judgment it has received from the
+press. Of the criticisms which have appeared in the London publications,
+we have seen two, which disagree with each other on its merits. That the
+reception by a large audience and the opinion of a critic should differ,
+is not at all surprising. In the present instance one of those critics
+is at complete variance with the audience, and says "it is as dull as
+the ministerial benches, and yet as patriotic as the opposition." The
+editors reserve their opinion till they see it acted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+The conductors thank "DRAMATICUS" for his communications, to which they
+will pay the proper attention. Though the series for the month of
+February is complete, they have made room for four of the articles with
+which he has favoured them.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies: The Mirror of Taste
+
+  Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error,
+  or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling.
+  Omitted closing quotation marks are as in the original text.
+  [oe] indicates an oe ligature.
+
+_Unchanged:_
+  chaunted  [chanted]
+  cotemporary/ies  [contemporary/ies]
+  descendent  [descendant]
+  devest  [divest]
+  monkies  [monkeys]
+  mystries  [mysteries]
+  pedler  [pedlar]
+  surprize  [surprise]
+  wo  [woe]
+  wonderous  [wondrous]
+  then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings,  [final comma is unclear]
+  assuage their wrath or heal the wound,  [comma is unclear]
+
+_Corrected:_
+  From the circumstances of her father's situation  [farther's]
+  Though the trepidation inseparable from such an effort  [inseperable]
+  Each secret image that my fancy formed  [Eech]
+  Quin decidedly gave judgment against her  [decidely]
+  is rather a paraphrase than a translation  [pharaphrase]
+  the season which succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival  [whith]
+  vainglory  [occurs with and without hyphenation]
+  signifying--roundly nothing  [signifyng]
+  the dog-star of favouritism  [favourite-ism]
+  don't  [occurs with and without apostrophe]
+  strength as to their vocal abilities  [abilites]
+  a wedding-party in that neighbourhood  [neigbourhood]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+  MAN AND WIFE;
+
+  OR,
+
+  MORE SECRETS THAN ONE:
+
+  A COMEDY.
+
+
+  By SAMUEL JAMES ARNOLD, Esq.
+
+
+  Published by Bradford and Inskeep, Philadelphia;
+  Inskeep and Bradford, New-York; and William
+  M'Ilhenny, Boston.
+
+  Smith and Maxwell, Printers.
+
+  1810.
+
+
+
+
+MAN AND WIFE;
+
+OR,
+
+MORE SECRETS THAN ONE.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+  Lord Austencourt.
+  Sir Rowland Austencourt.
+  Charles Austencourt.
+  Sir Willoughby Worret.
+  Falkner.
+  Abel Grouse.
+  Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus.
+  Ponder.
+  William.
+  Servant.
+  Countryman.
+  Sailor.
+  Game-Keeper.
+  Parish Officer.
+  Lady Worret.
+  Helen Worret.
+  Fanny.
+  Tiffany.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_Abel Grouse's cottage. Enter_ Abel Grouse _and_ Fanny.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Don't tell me of your sorrow and repentance girl. You've
+broke my heart. Married hey? and privately too--and to a lord into the
+bargain! So, when you can hide it no longer, you condescend to tell me.
+Think you that the wealth and title of lord Austencourt can silence the
+fears of a fond father's heart? Why should a lord marry a poor girl like
+you in private, if his intentions were honourable? Who should restrain
+him from publicly avowing his wife?
+
+_Fanny._ My dearest father, have but a little patience, and I'll explain
+all.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Who was present, besides the parson, at your wedding?
+
+_Fanny._ There was our neighbour, the attorney, sir, and one of his
+clerks, and they were all--
+
+_Ab. Gr._ My heart sinks within me--but mark me. You may remember I was
+not always what now I seem to be. I yesterday received intelligence
+which, but for this discovery, had shed a gleam of joy over my remaining
+days. As it is, should your husband prove the villain I suspect him,
+that intelligence will afford me an opportunity to resume a character in
+life which shall make this monster lord tremble. The wrongs of Abel
+Grouse, the poor but upright man, might have been pleaded in vain to
+him, but as I shall soon appear, it shall go hard but I will make the
+great man shrink before me, even in his plenitude of pride and power.
+
+_Fanny._ You terrify me, sir, indeed you do.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ And so I would. I would prepare you for the worst that may
+befal us: for should this man, this lord, who calls himself your
+husband--
+
+_Fanny._ Dearest father, what can you mean? Who _calls_ himself my
+husband! He _is_ my husband.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ If he _is_ your husband, how does he dare to pay his
+addresses, as he now publicly does, to the daughter of sir Willoughby
+Worret, our neighbour. I may be mistaken. I'm in the midst here of old
+acquaintances, though in this guise they know me not. They shall soon
+see me amongst them. Not a word of this, I charge you. Come girl, this
+lord shall own you. If he does not, we will seek a remedy in those laws
+which are at once the best guardians of our rights and the surest
+avengers of our wrongs. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_A parlour in_ sir W. Worret's _house. The breakfast
+prepared, urn, &c._ Sir Willoughby _reading the newspaper. He rises and
+rings the bell; then pulls out his watch._
+
+_Sir W._ Three quarters of an hour since breakfast was first announced
+to my wife. My patience is exhausted. Oh wedlock, wedlock! why did I
+ever venture again into thy holy state--of misery! Of all the taxes laid
+on mankind by respect to society and the influence of example, no one is
+so burthensome as that which obliges a man to submit to a thousand ills
+at home, rather than be suspected of being a bad husband abroad. (_enter
+servant_) Go to your lady.
+
+_Serv._ I told her ladyship five times before, sir Willoughby, that
+breakfast was waiting.
+
+_Sir W._ Then tell her once more, and that will make six, and say I
+earnestly request the favour she will hasten to breakfast, as while she
+stays I starve.
+
+_Serv._ Yes, sir Willoughby, but she'll stop the longer for the message.
+(_Aside going out._) [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ My wife is the very devil. It seems that she'd be miserable if
+she did not think me happy; yet her tenderness is my eternal torment;
+her affection puts me in a fidget, and her fondness in a fever.
+
+    _Enter servant._
+
+_Serv._ My lady says she wont detain you a moment, sir Willoughby.
+[_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ The old answer. Then she's so nervous. A nervous wife is worse
+than a perpetual blister; and then, as the man says in the play, your
+nervous patients are always ailing, but _never die_. Zounds! why do I
+bear it? 'tis my folly, my weakness, to dread the censure of the world,
+and to sacrifice every comfort of my fire side to the ideal advantage of
+being esteemed a _good husband_. (_Lady Worret is heard speaking
+behind_) Hark! now she begins her morning work, giving more orders in a
+minute than can be executed in a month, and teasing my daughter to death
+to teach her to keep her temper; yet every body congratulates me on
+having so good a wife; every body envies me so excellent an economist;
+every body thinks me the happiest man alive; and nobody knows what a
+miserable mortal I am.
+
+_Lady W._ (_behind_) And harkye, William, (_entering with servant_) tell
+the coachman to bring the chariot in a quarter of an hour: and William,
+run with these books immediately to the rector's; and William, bring up
+breakfast this moment.
+
+_Will._ Yes, my lady: (_aside_) Lord have mercy upon us! [_Exit._
+
+_Lady W._ My dear sir Willoughby, I beg a thousand pardons; but you are
+always so indulgent that you really spoil me. I'm sure you think me a
+tiresome creature.
+
+_Sir W._ No, no, my life, not at all. I should be very ungrateful if I
+didn't value you _just exactly as highly_ as you deserve.
+
+_Lady W._ I certainly _deserve_ a good scolding: I do indeed. I think if
+you scolded me a little I should behave better.
+
+_Sir W._ Well, then, as you encourage me, my love, I must own that a
+little more punctuality would greatly heighten the zest of your society.
+
+_Lady W._ And yet, sir Willoughby, you _must_ acknowledge that my time
+is ever dedicated to that proper vigilance which the superintendance of
+so large an establishment undoubtedly requires.
+
+_Sir W._ Why, true, my love; but somehow I can't help thinking, that, as
+my fortune is so ample, it is quite unnecessary that you should undergo
+so much fatigue: for instance, I _do_ think that the wife of a baronet
+of 12,000l. a year owes it to her rank to be otherwise employed than in
+hunting after the housemaid, or sacrificing her time in the storeroom in
+counting candles, or weighing out soap, starch, powder-blue, and brown
+sugar.
+
+_Lady W. (in tears)_ This is unkind, sir Willoughby, this is very
+unkind.
+
+_Sir W._ So! as usual, here's a breeze springing up. What the devil
+shall I say to sooth her? Wife, wife! you drive me mad. You first beg me
+to scold you, and then are offended because I obligingly comply with
+your request.
+
+_Lady W._ No, sir Willoughby, I am only _surprised_ that you should so
+little know the value of a wife who daily degrades herself for your
+advantage.
+
+_Sir W._ That's the very thing I complain of. You _do_ degrade yourself.
+Your economy, my life, is downright parsimony: your vigilance is
+suspicion; your management is meanness; and you fidget your servants
+till you make them fretful, and then prudently discharge them because
+they will live with you no longer. Hey! ods life, I must sooth her: for
+if company comes, and finds her in this humour, my dear-bought
+reputation as a good husband is lost forever. _(Enter servant with
+breakfast.)_ Come, come, my dear lady Worret, let us go to breakfast,
+come _(sitting down to breakfast)_ let us talk of something else. Come,
+take your tea.
+
+_Lady W. (to servant)_ Send William to speak to me. [_Exit servant._
+
+_Sir W._ Where's Helen?
+
+_Lady W._ I have desired her to copy a few articles into the family
+receipt book before breakfast; for as her marriage will so shortly take
+place, it is necessary she should complete her studies.
+
+_Sir W._ What, she's at work, I suppose, on the third folio volume.
+
+_Lady W._ The _fifth_, I believe.
+
+_Sir W._ Heaven defend us! I don't blame it; I don't censure it at all:
+but I believe the case is _rather_ unprecedented for an heiress of
+12,000l. a year to leave to posterity, in her own hand writing, five
+folio volumes of recipes, for pickling, preserving, potting, and pastry,
+for stewing and larding, making ketchup and sour krout, oyster patties,
+barbacued pies, jellies, jams, soups, sour sauce, and sweetmeats.
+
+_Lady W._ Oh, sir Willoughby! if young ladies of the present day paid
+more attention to such substantial acquirements, we should have better
+wives and better husbands.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that is singularly just.
+
+_Lady W._ Yes, if women were taught to find amusement in domestic
+duties, instead of seeking it at a circulating library, assemblies, and
+balls, we should hear of fewer appeals to Doctor's Commons and the court
+of King's Bench.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that is undeniably true _(aside)_ and now, as we have a
+moment uninterrupted by family affairs--
+
+    _Enter_ William.
+
+_Lady W._ Is the carriage come?
+
+_Will._ No, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ Have you carried the books?
+
+_Will._ No, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ Then go and hasten the coachman.
+
+_Will._ No, my lady--_yes_, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ And William, send up Tiffany to Miss Helen's room, and bid her
+say we expect her at breakfast.
+
+_Will._ Miss Helen has been in the park these two hours.
+
+_Sir W. (Laughs aside.)_
+
+_Lady W._ How! in the park these two hours? Impossible. Send Tiffany to
+seek her.
+
+_Will._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ So, as usual, risen with the lark, I suppose.
+
+_Lady W._ Her disobedience will break my heart.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds! I shall go mad. Here's a mother-in-law going to break
+her heart, because my daughter prefers a walk in the morning to writing
+culinary secrets in a fat folio family receipt book!
+
+_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, sir Willoughby, it is you who encourage her in
+disregarding my orders.
+
+_Sir W._ No such thing, lady Worret, no such thing: but if the girl
+likes to bring home a pair of ruddy cheeks from a morning walk, I don't
+see why she is to be balked of her fancy.
+
+_Lady W._ Ruddy cheeks, indeed! Such robust health is becoming only in
+dairy maids.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, I know your taste to a T. A consumption is always a key to
+your tender heart; and an interesting pallid countenance will at any
+time unlock the door to your best affections: but I must be excused if I
+prefer seeing my daughter with the rosy glow of health upon her cheek,
+rather than the sickly imitations of art, which bloom on the surface
+alone, while the fruit withers and decays beneath--but zounds! don't
+speak so loud, here's somebody coming, and they'll think we are
+quarrelling. _(Helen sings behind)_ So here comes our madcap.
+
+    _Enter_ Helen.
+
+_Helen._ Good morning, good morning. Here, papa, look what a beautiful
+posy of wild flowers I have gathered. See, the dew is still upon them.
+How lovely they are! To my fancy, now, these uncultivated productions of
+nature have more charms than the whole garden can equal. Why can we not
+all be like these flowers, simple and inartificial, with the stamp of
+nature and truth upon us?
+
+_Lady W._ Romantic stuff! But how comes it, Miss Helen, that my orders
+are thus disobeyed?
+
+_Helen._ Why lord, mamma, I'll tell you how it was; but first I must eat
+my breakfast; so I'll sit down and tell you all about it. _(sits down.)_
+In the first place, I rose at six, and remembering I was to copy out the
+whole catalogue of sweetmeats, and as I hate all sweet things, (some
+sugar, if you please, papa) I determined to take one run round the park
+before I sat down to my morning's work: so taking a crust of bread and a
+glass of cold water, which I love better than (some tea, if you please,
+mamma) any thing in the world, out I flew like a lapwing; stopped at the
+dairy; and (some cream, if you please, papa) down to the meadows and
+gathered my nosegay; and then bounded home, with a heart full of gayety,
+and a rare appetite for--some roll and butter, if you please, mamma.
+
+_Lady W._ Daughter, this levity of character is unbecoming your sex, and
+even your age. You see none of this offensive flightiness in me.
+
+_Sir W._ Come, come, my dear lady Worret. Helen's gayety is natural.
+Helen, my love, I have charming news for you. Every thing is at last
+arranged between lord Austencourt and me respecting your marriage.
+
+_Helen._ Why now, if mamma-in-law had said this, I should have thought
+she meant to make me as grave as herself.
+
+_Lady W._ In expectation that Helen will behave as becomes her in this
+most important affair of her life, I consent to pass over her negligence
+this morning in regard to my favourite receipts.
+
+_Helen._ I hate all receipts, sweet, bitter, and sour.
+
+_Lady W._ Then we will now talk of a husband.
+
+_Helen._ I hate all husbands, sweet, bitter, and sour.
+
+_Sir W._ Whoo! Helen, my love, you should not contradict your mamma.
+
+_Helen._ My dear papa, I don't contradict her; but I will not marry lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_Lady W._ This is too much for my weak nerves. I leave you, sir
+Willoughby, to arrange this affair, while I hasten to attend to my
+domestic duties.
+
+_Sir W._ (_aside to lady W._) That's right; you'd better leave her to
+me. I'll manage her, I warrant. Let me assist you--there--I'll soon
+settle this business. (_Hands lady Worret off._)
+
+_Helen._ Now, my dear papa, are you really of the same opinion as her
+ladyship?
+
+_Sir W._ Exactly.
+
+_Helen._ Ha! ha! lud! but that's comical. What! both think alike?
+
+_Sir W._ Precisely.
+
+_Helen._ That's very odd. I believe it's the first time you've agreed in
+opinion since you were made one: but I'm quite sure you never can wish
+me to marry a man I do not love.
+
+_Sir W._ Why no, certainly not; but you _will_ love him; indeed you
+_must_. It's my wife's wish, you know, and so I wish it of course. Come,
+come, in this one trifling matter you must oblige us.
+
+_Helen._ Well, as _you_ think it only a trifling matter, and as I think
+it of importance enough to make me miserable, I'm sure _you'll_ give up
+the point.
+
+_Sir W._ Why no, you are mistaken. To be sure I _might_ have given it
+up; but my lady Worret, you know--but that's no matter. Marriage is a
+duty, and tis incumbent on parents to see their children settled in that
+_happy_ state.
+
+_Helen._ Have _you_ found that state _so happy_, sir?
+
+_Sir W._ Why--yes--that is--hey? happy! certainly. Doesn't every body
+say so? and what every body says _must_ be true. However, that's not to
+the purpose. A connexion with the family of lord Austencourt is
+particularly desirable.
+
+_Helen._ Not to _me_, I assure you, papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Our estates join so charmingly to one another.
+
+_Helen._ But sure that's no reason _we_ should be joined to one another.
+
+_Sir W._ But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage
+between you.
+
+_Helen._ Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me
+a separate maintenance.
+
+_Sir. W._ Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady
+Worret's wishes. Zounds! you don't see me disobedient to her wishes; but
+I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young
+fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has
+filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness.
+Thank Heaven, however, he's far enough off at sea.
+
+_Helen._ And _I_ think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles
+abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to those whom his courage
+enables to live in tranquillity at home.
+
+_Sir W._ That's very true: (_aside_) but I have an unanswerable
+objection to all you can say. Lord Austencourt is rich, and Charles is a
+beggar. Besides sir Rowland himself prefers lord Austencourt.
+
+_Helen._ More shame for him. His partial feelings to his nephew, and
+unnatural disregard of his son, have long since made me hate him. In
+short, you are for money, and choose lord Austencourt: I am for love,
+and prefer his poor cousin.
+
+_Sir W._ Then, once for all, as my lady Worret must be obeyed, I no
+longer consult you on the subject, and it only remains for you to retain
+the affection of an indulgent father, by complying with my will (I mean
+my wife's) or to abandon my protection. [_Exit._
+
+_Helen._ I won't marry him, papa, I won't, nor I won't cry, though I've
+a great mind. A plague of all money, say I. Oh! what a grievous
+misfortune it is to be born with 12,000l. a year? but if I can't marry
+the man I like, I won't marry at all; that's determined: and every body
+knows the firmness of a woman's resolution, when she resolves on
+contradiction. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--O'Dedimus's _office. Boxes round the shelves._ O'Dedimus
+_discovered writing at an office table. A few papers and parchments,
+&c._
+
+_O'Dedimus._ There! I think I've expressed my meaning quite plainly,
+(_reads_) "Farmer Flail, I'm instructed by lord Austencourt, your
+landlord, to inform you, by word of letter, that if you can't afford to
+pay the additional rent for your farm, you must turn out." I think
+that's clear enough. "As to your putting in the plea of a large family,
+we cannot allow that as a set off; because, when a man can't afford to
+support seven children with decency, he ought not to trouble himself to
+get them." I think that's plain English.
+
+    "Your humble servant,
+        "CORNELIUS O'DEDIMUS,
+            "Attorney at law.
+
+"P.S. You may show this letter to his lordship, to convince him I have
+done my duty; but as I don't mean one word of it, if you'll come to me
+privately, I'll see what can be done for you, without his knowing any
+thing of the matter," and I think _that's_ plain English.
+
+    _Enter_ gamekeeper _with a_ countryman _in custody._
+
+_O'Ded._ Well, friend, and what are you?
+
+_Countryman._ I be's a poacher: so my lord's gamekeeper here do say.
+
+_O'Ded._ A poacher! Faith that's honest.
+
+_Gamekeeper._ I caught him before day-light on the manor. I took away
+his gun and shot his dog.
+
+_O'Ded._ That was bravely done. So, you must pamper your long stomach
+with pheasants and partridges, and be damned to ye! Will you prefer
+paying five pounds now, or three month's hard labour in the house of
+correction?
+
+_Countrym._ Thank ye, sir, I don't prefer either, sir.
+
+_O'Ded._ You must go before the justice. He'll exhort you, and commit
+ye.
+
+_Countrym._ Ees, I do know that _extortion_ and _commission_, and such
+like, be the office of the justice; but I'll have a bit of law, please
+punch. He ha' killed my poor dog, that I loved like one o' my own
+children, and I've gotten six of 'em, Lord bless 'em.
+
+_O'Ded._ Six dogs!
+
+_Countrym._ Dogs! No, children, mun.
+
+_O'Ded._ Six children! Och, the fruitful sinner!
+
+_Countrym._ My wife be a pains-taking woman, sir. We ha' had this poor
+dog from a puppy.
+
+_O'Ded._ Shut your ugly mouth, you babbler.--Six children! Oh! we must
+make an example of this fellow. An't I the village lawyer? and an't I
+the terror of all the rogues of the parish? (_aside to him._) You must
+plead "not guilty."
+
+_Countrym._ But I tell you, if that be guilt, I _be_ guilty.
+
+_O'Ded._ Why, you blundering booby, if you plead guilty, how will I ever
+be able to prove you innocent?
+
+_Countrym._ Guilty or innocent, I'll have the law of him, by gum. He has
+shot my poor old mongrel, and taken away my musket; and I've lost my
+day's drilling, and I'll make him pay for it.
+
+_O'Ded._ A mongrel and a musket! by St. Patrick, Mr. Gamekeeper, and you
+have nately set your foot in it.
+
+_Gamekeeper._ Why, sir, its a bad affair, sir. 'Twas so dark, I couldn't
+see; and when I discovered my mistake, I offered him a shilling to make
+it up, and he refused it.
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside to gamekeeper._) Harkye, Mr. Gamekeeper; he has one
+action against ye for his dog, and another for false imprisonment.
+(_aloud_) I love to see the laws enforced with justice: (_aside_) but
+I'll always help a poor man to stand up against oppression. (_to
+gamekeeper_) He has got you on the hip, and so go out and settle it
+between yourselves, and do _you_ take care of yourself: (_to
+countryman_) and do _you_ make the best of your bargain. [_Exeunt._
+
+Parish officer _brings forward the_ sailor.
+
+_Officer._ Here's a vagrant. I found him begging without a pass.
+
+_O'Ded._ Take him before his worship directly. The sturdy rogue ought to
+be punished.
+
+_Sailor._ Please your honour, I'm a sailor.
+
+_O'Ded._ And if you're a sailor, an't you ashamed to own it? A begging
+sailor is a disgrace to an honourable profession, for which the country
+has provided an asylum as glorious as it is deserved.
+
+_Sailor._ Why so it has: but I an't bound for Greenwich yet.
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside to him._) Why, you're disabled, I see.
+
+_Sailor._ Disabled! What for? Why I've only lost _one_ arm yet. Bless
+ye, I'm no beggar. I was going to see my Nancy, thirty miles further on
+the road, and meeting some old messmates, we had a cann o' grog
+together. One cann brought on another, and then we got drinking the
+king's health, and the navy, and then _this_ admiral, and then _t'other_
+admiral, till at last we had so many gallant heroes to drink, that we
+were all drunk afore we came to the reckoning; so, your honour, as my
+messmates had none of the rhino, I paid all; and then, you know, they
+had a long journey upwards, and no biscuit aboard; so I lent one a
+little, and another a little, till at last I found I had no coin left in
+my locker for myself, except a cracked teaster that Nancy gave me; and I
+couldn't spend that, you know, though I had been starving.
+
+_O'Ded._ And so you begged!
+
+_Sailor._ Begged! no. I just axed for a bit of bread and a mug o' water.
+That's no more than one Christian ought to give another, and if you call
+that begging, why I beg to differ in opinion.
+
+_O'Ded._ According to the act you are a vagrant, and the justice may
+commit ye; (_aside to the officer_) lookye, Mr. Officer--you're in the
+wrong box here. Can't you see plain enough, by his having lost an arm,
+that he earns a livelihood by the work of his hands; so lest he should
+be riotous for being detained, let me advise you to be off. I'll send
+him off after you with a flea in his ear--the other way.
+
+_Officer._ Thank ye, sir, thank ye. I'm much obliged to you for your
+advice, sir, and shall take it, and so my service to you. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded._ Take this my honest lad; (_gives money_) say nothing about it,
+and give my service to Nancy.
+
+_Sailor._ Why now, heaven bless you honour forever; and if ever you're
+in distress, and I'm within sight of signals, why hang out your blue
+lights; and if I don't bear down to your assistance, may my gun be
+primed with damp powder the first time we fire a broadside at the enemy.
+[_Exit._
+
+O'Dedimus _rings a bell._
+
+_O'Ded._ Ponder! Now will this fellow be thinking and thinking, till he
+quite forgets what he's doing. Ponder, I say! (_enter Ponder._) Here,
+Ponder, take this letter to farmer Flail's, and if you see Mrs. Muddle,
+his neighbour, give my love and duty to her.
+
+_Ponder._ Yes, yes, sir; but at that moment, sir, I was immersed in
+thought, if I may be allowed the expression; I was thinking of the vast
+difference between love and law, and yet how neatly you've spliced them
+together in your last instructions to your humble servant, Peter Ponder,
+clerk.--Umph!
+
+_O'Ded._ Umph! is that your manners, you bear-garden? Will I never be
+able to larn you to behave yourself? Study _me_, and talk like a
+gentleman, and be damn'd to ye.
+
+_Ponder._ I study the law; I can't talk it.
+
+_O'Ded._ Cant you? Then you'll never do. If your tongue don't run faster
+than your client's, how will you ever be able to bother him, you booby?
+
+_Ponder._ I'll draw out his case; he shall read, and he'll bother
+himself.
+
+_O'Ded._ You've a notion. Mind my instructions, and I don't despair of
+seeing you at the bar one day. Was that copy of a writ sarved yesterday
+upon Garble, the tailor?
+
+_Ponder._ Aye.
+
+_O'Ded._ And sarve him right too. That's a big rogue, that runs in debt
+wid his eyes open, and though he has property, refuses to pay. Is he
+safe?
+
+_Ponder._ He was bailed by Swash the brewer.
+
+_O'Ded._ And was the other sarved on Shuttle, the weaver?
+
+_Ponder._ Aye.
+
+_O'Ded._ Who bailed him?
+
+_Ponder._ Nobody. He's gone to jail.
+
+_O'Ded._ Gone to jail! Why _his_ poverty is owing to misfortune. He
+can't pay. Well, that's not our affair. The law must have its course.
+
+_Ponder._ So Shuttle said to his wife, as she hung crying on his
+shoulder.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it; he's a sensible man; and that's more than his wife
+is. We've nothing to do with women's tears.
+
+_Ponder._ Not a bit. So they walked him off to jail in a jiffey, if I
+may be allowed the expression.
+
+_O'Ded._ To be sure, and that was right. They did their duty: though for
+sartin, if a poor man can't pay his debts when he's at liberty, he wont
+be much nearer the mark when he's shut up in idleness in a prison.
+
+_Ponder._ No.
+
+_O'Ded._ And when he that sent them there comes to make up his last
+account, 'tis my belief that he wont be able to show cause why a bill
+shouldn't be filed against him for barbarity. Are the writings all ready
+for sir Rowland?
+
+_Ponder._ All ready. Shall I now go to farmer Flail's with the letter?
+
+_O'Ded._ Aye, and if you see Shuttle's wife in your way, give my service
+to her; and d'ye hear, as you're a small talker, don't let the little
+you say be so cursed crabbed; and if a few kind words of comfort should
+find their way from your heart to your tongue, don't shut your ugly
+mouth, and keep them within your teeth. You may tell her that if she can
+find any body to stand up for her husband, I shan't be over nice about
+the sufficiency of the bail. Get you gone.
+
+_Ponder_ I shall. Let me see! farmer Flail--Mrs. Muddle, his
+neighbour--Shuttle's wife--and a whole string of messages and
+memorandums--here's business enough to bother the brains of any
+ordinary man! You are pleased to say, sir, that I am too much addicted
+to thinking--I think _not_. [_Exit Ponder._
+
+_O'Ded._ By my soul, if an attorney wasn't sometimes a bit of a rogue,
+he'd never be able to earn an honest livelihood. Oh Mr. O'Dedimus! why
+have you so little when your heart could distribute so much!
+
+    Sir Rowland, _without_.
+
+_Sir Row._ Mr. O'Dedimus--within there!
+
+_O'Ded._ Yes, I'm within there.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland.
+
+_Sir Row._ Where are these papers? I thought the law's delay was only
+felt by those who could not pay for its expedition.
+
+_O'Ded._ The law, sir Rowland, is a good horse, and his pace is slow and
+sure; but he goes no faster because you goad him with a golden spur; but
+every thing is prepared, sir; and now, sir Rowland, I have an ugly sort
+of an awkward affair to mention to you.
+
+_Sir Row._ Does it concern _me_?
+
+_O'Ded._ You know, sir Rowland, at the death of my worthy friend, the
+late lord Austencourt, you were left sole executor and guardian to his
+son, the present lord, then an infant of three years of age.
+
+_Sir Row._ What does this lead to? (_starting_)
+
+_O'Ded._ With a disinterested view to benefit the estate of the minor,
+who came of age the other day, you some time ago embarked a capital of
+14,000l. in a great undertaking.
+
+_Sir Row._ Proceed.
+
+_O'Ded._ I have this morning received a letter from the agent, stating
+the whole concern to have failed, the partners to be bankrupts, and the
+property consigned to assignees not to promise, as a final dividend,
+more than one shilling in the pound. This letter will explain the rest.
+
+_Sir Row._ How! I was not prepared for this--What's to be done?
+
+_O'Ded._ When one loses a sum of money that isn't one's own, there's but
+one thing to be done.
+
+_Sir Row._ And what is that?
+
+_O'Ded._ To pay it back again.
+
+_Sir Row._ You know that to be impossible, utterly impossible.
+
+_O'Ded._ Then, sir Rowland, take the word of _Cornelius O'Dedimus_,
+attorney at law, his lordship will rigidly exact the money, to the
+uttermost farthing.
+
+_Sir Row._ You are fond, sir, of throwing out these hints to his
+disadvantage.
+
+_O'Ded._ I am bold to speak it--I am possessed of a secret, sir Rowland,
+in regard to his lordship.
+
+_Sir Row._ (_alarmed._) What is it you mean?
+
+_O'Ded._ I thought I told you it was a _secret_.
+
+_Sir Row._ But to me you should have no secrets that regard my family.
+
+_O'Ded._ With submission, sir Rowland, his lordship is my client, as
+well as yourself, and I have learned from the practice of the courts,
+that an attorney who blabs in his business has soon no suit to his back.
+
+_Sir Row._ But this affair, perhaps, involves my deepest interest--my
+character--my all is at stake.
+
+_O'Ded._ Have done wid your pumping now--d'ye think I am a basket full
+of cinders, that I'm to be sifted after this fashion?
+
+_Sir Row._ Answer but this--does it relate to Charles, my son?
+
+_O'Ded._ Sartinly, the young gentleman has a small bit of interest in
+the question.
+
+_Sir Row._ One thing more. Does it allude to a transaction which
+happened some years ago--am I a principal concerned in it?
+
+_O'Ded._ Devil a ha'porth--it happened only six months past.
+
+_Sir R._ Enough--I breathe again.
+
+_O'Ded._ I'm glad of that, for may-be you'll now let me breathe to tell
+you that as I know lord Austencourt's private character better than you
+do, my life to a bundle of parchment, he'll even arrest ye for the
+money.
+
+_Sir R._ Impossible, he cannot be such a villain!
+
+_Abel Grouse._ (_without_) What ho! is the lawyer within?
+
+_Sir Row._ Who interrupts us?
+
+_O'Ded._ 'Tis the strange man that lives on the common--his name is Abel
+Grouse--he's coming up.
+
+_Sir R._ I'll wait till you dismiss him, for I cannot encounter any one
+at present. Misfortunes crowd upon me; and one act of guilt has drawn
+the vengeance of Heaven on my head, and will pursue me to the grave.
+[_Exit to an inner room._
+
+_O'Ded._ Och! if a small gale of adversity blows up such a storm as
+this, we shall have a pretty hurricane by and by, when you larn a little
+more of your hopeful nephew, and see his new matrimonial scheme fall to
+the ground, like buttermilk through a sieve.
+
+    _Enter_ Abel Grouse.
+
+_Abel Grouse._ Now, sir, you are jackall, as I take it, to lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_O'Ded._ I am his man of business, sure enough; but didn't hear before
+of my promotion to the office you mention.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ You are possessed of all his secret deeds.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's a small mistake--I have but one of them, and that's the
+deed of settlement on Miss Helen Worret, spinster.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Leave your quibbling, sir, and speak plump to the point--if
+habit hasn't hardened your heart, and given a system to your knavery,
+answer me this: lord Austencourt has privately married my daughter?
+
+_O'Ded._ Hush!
+
+_Ab. Gr._ You were a witness.
+
+_O'Ded._ Has any body told you that thing?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Will you deny it?
+
+_O'Ded._ Will you take a friend's advice?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ I didn't come for advice. I came to know if you will confess
+the fact, or whether you are villain enough to conceal it.
+
+_O'Ded._ Have done wid your bawling--sir Rowland's in the next room!
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Is he? then sir Rowland shall hear me--Sir Rowland!--he shall
+see my daughter righted--Ho there! Sir Rowland!
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside_) Here'll be a devil of a dust kicked up presently
+about the ears of Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law!
+
+    _Enter_ Sir Rowland.
+
+_Sir Row._ Who calls me?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ 'Twas I!
+
+_Sir Row._ What is it you want, friend?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Justice!
+
+_Sir Row._ Justice! then you had better apply there, (_pointing to
+O'Dedimus._)
+
+_Ab. Gr._ That's a mistake--he deals only in _law_--'tis to you that I
+appeal--Your nephew, lord Austencourt, is about to marry the daughter of
+sir Willoughby Worret.
+
+_Sir Row._ He is.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Never! I will save him the guilt of that crime at least!
+
+_Sir Row._ You are mysterious, sir.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Perhaps I am. Briefly, your nephew is privately married to my
+daughter--this man was present at their union--will you see justice done
+me, and make him honourably proclaim his wife?
+
+_Sir Row._ Your tale is incredible, sir--it is sufficient, however, to
+demand attention, and I warn you, lest by your folly you rouse an
+indignation that may crush you.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Hear me, proud man, while I warn _you_! My daughter is the
+lawful wife of lord Austencourt--double is the wo to me that she _is_
+his wife: but as it is so, he shall publicly acknowledge her--to you I
+look for justice and redress--see to it, sir, or I shall speedily appear
+in a new character, with my wrongs in my hand, to hurl destruction on
+you. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Row._ What does the fellow mean?
+
+_O'Ded._ That's just what I'm thinking--
+
+_Sir Row._ _You_, he said, was privy to their marriage.
+
+_O'Ded._ Bless ye, the man's mad!
+
+_Sir Row._ Ha! you said you had a secret respecting my nephew.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, if you go on so, you'll bother me!
+
+_Sir Row._ The fellow must be silenced--can you not contrive some means
+to rid us of his insolence?
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, I shall do my duty, as my duty should be done, by
+Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.
+
+_Sir Row._ My nephew must not hear of this accursed loss--be secret on
+that head, I charge you! but in regard to this man's bold assertion, I
+must consult him instantly--haste and follow me to his house.
+
+_O'Ded._ Take me wid ye, sir; for this is such a dirty business, that
+I'll never be able to go through it unless you show me the way.
+[_Exeunt._
+
+_End of act I._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_A library at_ Sir Willoughby's. _Enter_ Helen _with_ Servant.
+
+_Helen._ Lord Austencourt--true--this is his hour for persecuting
+me--very well, desire lord Austencourt to come in. (_exit servant_) I
+won't marry. They all say I shall. Some girls, now, would sit down and
+sigh, and moan, as if that would mend the matter--that will never suit
+me! Some indeed would run away with the man they liked better--but then
+the only man I ever liked well enough to marry--is--I believe, run away
+from _me_. Well! that won't do!--so I'll e'en laugh it off as well as I
+can; and though I wont marry his lordship, I'll teaze him as heartily as
+if I had been his wife these twenty years.
+
+    _Enter_ lord Austencourt.
+
+_Lord A._ Helen! too lovely Helen! once more behold before you to
+supplicate for your love and pity, the man whom the world calls proud,
+but whom your beauty alone has humbled.
+
+_Helen._ They say, my lord, that pride always has a fall some time or
+other. I hope the fall of your lordship's hasn't hurt you.
+
+_Lord A._ Is it possible that the amiable Helen, so famed for gentleness
+and goodness, can see the victim of her charms thus dejected stand
+before her.
+
+_Helen._ Certainly not, my lord--so pray sit down.
+
+_Lord A._ Will you never be for one moment serious?
+
+_Helen._ Oh, yes, my lord! I am never otherwise when _I think_ of your
+lordship's proposals--but when you are making love and fine speeches to
+me in person, 'tis with amazing difficulty I can help laughing.
+
+_Lord A._ Insolent vixin. (_aside_) I had indulged a hope, madam, that
+the generosity and disinterested love I have evinced--
+
+_Helen._ Why as to your lordship's generosity in condescending to marry
+a poor solitary spinster, I am certainly most duly grateful--and no one
+can possibly doubt your disinterestedness, who knows I am only heiress
+to 12,000l. a year--a fortune which, as I take it, nearly doubles the
+whole of your lordship's rent roll!
+
+_Lord A._ Really, madam, if I am suspected of any mercenary motives, the
+liberal settlements which are now ready for your perusal, must
+immediately remove any such suspicion.
+
+_Helen._ Oh, my lord, you certainly mistake me--only as my papa
+observes, our estates _do join so charmingly to one another_!
+
+_Lord A._ Yes:--that circumstance is certainly advantageous to both
+parties (_exultingly._)
+
+_Helen._ Certainly!--only, as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours would
+be the greatest gainer by the bargain.
+
+_Lord A._ My dear madam, a title and the advantages of elevation in rank
+amply compensate the sacrifice on your part.
+
+_Helen._ Why, as to a title, my lord (as Mr. O'Dedimus, your attorney,
+observes) there's no title in my mind better than a good title to a fine
+estate--and I see plainly, that although your lordship is a peer of the
+realm--you think this title of mine no mean companion for your own.
+
+_Lord A._ Nay, madam--believe me--I protest--I assure you--solemnly,
+that those considerations have very little--indeed _no_ influence _at
+all_ with me.
+
+_Helen._ Oh, no!--only it is natural that you should feel (as papa again
+observes) that the _contiguity_ of these estates seem to _invite_ a
+union by a marriage between us.
+
+_Lord A._ And if you admit that fact, why do you decline the invitation?
+
+_Helen._ Why, one doesn't accept _every_ invitation that's offered, you
+know--one sometimes has very disagreeable ones; and then one presents
+compliments, and is extremely sorry that a prior engagement obliges us
+to decline the honour.
+
+_Lord A._ (_aside_) Confound the satirical huzzy--But should not the
+wishes of your parents have some weight in the scale?
+
+_Helen._ Why, so they have; _their_ wishes are in one scale, and _mine_
+are in the other; do all I can, I can't make mine weigh most, and so the
+beam remains balanced.
+
+_Lord A._ I should be sorry to make theirs preponderate, by calling in
+their authority as auxiliaries to their wishes.
+
+_Helen._ Authority!--Ho! what, you think to marry me by force! do ye my
+lord?
+
+_Lord A._ _They_ are resolute, and if _you_ continue obstinate--
+
+_Helen._ I dare say your lordship's education hasn't precluded your
+knowledge of a very true, though _rather_ vulgar proverb, "one man may
+lead a horse to the water, but twenty can't make him drink."
+
+_Lord A._ The allusion may be classical, madam, though certainly it is
+not very elegant, nor has it even the advantage of being applicable to
+the point in question. However I do not despair to see this resolution
+changed. In the mean time, I did not think it in your nature to treat
+any man who loves you with cruelty and scorn.
+
+_Helen._ Then why don't you desist, my lord? If you'd take an answer,
+you had a civil one: but if you will follow and teaze one, like a sturdy
+beggar in the street, you must expect at last a reproof for your
+impertinence.
+
+_Lord A._ Yet even in their case perseverance often obtains what was
+denied to poverty.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, possibly, from the feeble or the vain; but genuine
+Charity, and her sister, Love, act only from their own generous impulse,
+and scorn intimidation.
+
+    _Enter_ Tiffany.
+
+_Tiffany._ Are you alone, madam?
+
+_Helen._ No; I was only wishing to be so.
+
+_Tiff._ A young woman is without, inquiring for sir Willoughby, ma'am; I
+thought he had been here.
+
+_Helen._ Do you know her?
+
+_Tiff._ Yes, ma'am; 'tis Fanny, the daughter of the odd man that lives
+on the common.
+
+_Helen._ I'll see her myself--desire her to walk up. [_Exit Tiffany._
+
+_Lord A._ (_seems uneasy_) Indeed! what brings her here?
+
+_Helen._ Why, what can be the matter now? your lordship seems quite
+melancholy on a sudden.
+
+_Lord A._ I, madam! oh no!--or if I am--'tis merely a head ach, or some
+such cause, or perhaps owing to the influence of the weather.
+
+_Helen._ Your lordship is a very susceptible barometer--when you entered
+this room your countenance was _set fair_; but now I see the index
+points to _stormy_.
+
+_Lord A._ Madam, you have company, or business--a good morning to you.
+
+_Helen._ Stay, stay, my lord.
+
+_Lord A._ Excuse me at present, I have an important affair--another
+time.
+
+_Helen._ Surely, my lord, the arrival of this innocent girl does not
+drive you away!
+
+_Lord A._ Bless me, madam, what an idea! certainly not; but I have just
+recollected an engagement of consequence--some other time--Madam, your
+most obedient-- [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ Fanny.
+
+_Fan._ I beg pardon, madam, I'm fearful I intrude; but I inquired for
+sir Willoughby, and they showed me to this room. I wished to speak with
+him on particular business--your servant, madam.
+
+_Hel._ Pray stay, my good girl--I rejoice in this opportunity of
+becoming acquainted with you--the character I have heard of you has
+excited an affectionate interest--you must allow me to become your
+friend.
+
+_Fanny._ Indeed, indeed, madam, I am in want of friends; but you can
+never be one of them.
+
+_Helen._ No! Why so?
+
+_Fan._ You, madam! Oh no--you are the only enemy I ever had.
+
+_Hel._ Enemy! This is very extraordinary! I have scarce ever seen you
+before--Assuredly I never injured you.
+
+_Fan._ Heaven forbid I should wish any one to injure you as deeply.
+
+_Hel._ I cannot understand you--pray explain yourself.
+
+_Fan._ That's impossible, madam--my lord would never forgive me.
+
+_Hel._ Your lord! Let me entreat you to explain your meaning.
+
+_Fan._ I cannot, madam; I came hither on business of importance, and no
+trifling business should have brought me to a house inhabited by one who
+is the cause of all my wretchedness.
+
+_Hel._ This is a very extraordinary affair! There is a mixture of
+cultivation and simplicity in your manner that affects me strongly--I
+see, my poor girl, you are distressed; and though what you have said
+leaves on my mind a painful suspicion--
+
+_Fan._ Oh heavens, madam! stay, I beseech you!--I am not what you think
+me, indeed I am not--I must not, for a moment, let you think of me so
+injuriously: yet I have promised secrecy! but sure no promise can be
+binding, when to keep it we must sacrifice all that is valuable in
+life--hear me, then madam--the struggle is violent; but I owe it to
+myself to acknowledge all.
+
+_Hel._ No, no, my dear girl! I now see what it would cost you to reveal
+your secret, and I will not listen to it; rest assured, I have no longer
+a thought to your disadvantage: curiosity gives place to interest: for
+though 'tis cruelty to inflict a wound, 'tis still more deliberate
+barbarity to probe when we cannot hope to heal it. (_going._)
+
+_Fan._ Stay, madam, stay--your generosity overpowers me! oh madam! you
+know not how wretched I am.
+
+_Hel._ What is it affects you thus?--come, if your story is of a nature
+that may be revealed, you are sure of sympathy.
+
+_Fan._ I never should have doubted; but my father has alarmed me
+sadly--he says my lord Austencourt is certainly on the point of marriage
+with you.
+
+_Hel._ And how, my dear girl, if it were so, could that affect you?
+Come, you must be explicit.
+
+_Fan._ Affect me! merciful Heaven! can I see him wed another? He is my
+husband by every tie sacred and human.
+
+_Hel._ Suffering, but too credulous girl! have you then trusted to his
+vows?
+
+_Fan._ How, madam! was I to blame, loving as I did, to trust in vows so
+solemn? could I suppose he would dare to break them, because our
+marriage was performed in secret?
+
+_Hel._ Your marriage, child! Good Heavens, you amaze me! but here we may
+be interrupted--this way with me. If this indeed be so all may be well
+again: for though he may be dead to _feeling_ be assured he is alive to
+_fear_: the man who once descends to be a villain is generally observed
+to be at heart a coward. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The door of a country inn._--Ponder _sitting on a
+portmanteau._
+
+_Ponder._ I've heard that intense thinking has driven some philosophers
+mad!--now if this should happen to _me_, 'twill never be the fate of my
+young patron, Mr. Charles Austencourt, whom I have suddenly met on his
+sudden return from sea, and who never thinks at all. Poor gentleman, he
+little thinks what--
+
+    _Enter_ Charles Austencourt.
+
+_Charles._ Not gone yet? How comes it you are not on the road to my
+father? Is the fellow deaf or dumb. Ponder! are ye asleep?
+
+_Pon._ I'm thinking, whether I am or not.
+
+_Charles._ And what wise scheme now occupies your thoughts?
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I confess the subject is beneath me (_pointing to the
+portmanteau._)
+
+_Char._ The weight of the portmanteau, I suppose, alarms you.
+
+_Pon._ If that was my heaviest misfortune, sir, I could carry double
+with all my heart. No, sir, I was thinking that as your father, sir
+Rowland, sent you on a cruize, for some cause best known to himself; and
+as you have thought proper to return for some cause best known to
+_yourself_, the chances of war, if I may be allowed the expression, are,
+that the contents of that trunk will be your only inheritance, or, in
+other words, that your father will cut you off with a shilling--and now
+I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ No doubt--thinking takes up so many of your waking hours, that
+you seldom find time for _doing_. And so you have, since my departure,
+turned your thinking faculties to the law.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; when you gave me notice to quit, I found it so hard to
+live honestly, that lest the law should take to me, I took to the law:
+and so articled my self to Mr. O'Dedimus, the attorney in our town: but
+there is a thought unconnected with law that has occupied my head every
+moment since we met.
+
+_Char._ Pr'ythee dismiss your thought, and get your legs in motion.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, I have really been thinking, ever since I saw you,
+that you are a little--(_going off to a distance_) a little _odd_
+hereabouts, sir; (_pointing to his head_) a little damned mad, if I may
+be allowed the expression!
+
+_Char._ Ha! ha! very probably. My sudden return, without a motive, as
+you suppose, has put that wise notion in your head.
+
+_Pon._ Without a motive! No, sir, I believe I know tolerably well the
+motive--the old story, sir, ha! love!
+
+_Char._ Love! And pray, sirrah, how do you dare to presume to suppose,
+that I--that I can be guilty of such a folly--I should be glad to know
+how you dare venture to think that I----
+
+_Pon._ Lord bless you, sir, I discovered it before you left the country.
+
+_Char._ Indeed! and by what symptoms, pray?
+
+_Pon._ The old symptoms, sir--in the first place, frequent fits of my
+complaint.
+
+_Char._ _Your_ complaint?
+
+_Pon._ Yes, thinking, long reveries, sudden starts, sentimental sighs,
+fits of unobserving absence, fidgets and fevers, orders and counter
+orders, loss of memory, loss of appetite, loss of rest, and loss of your
+senses, if I may be allowed the expression.
+
+_Char._ No, sir, you may not be allowed the expression--'tis
+impertinent, 'tis false. I never was unobserving or absent; I never had
+the fidgets; I never once mentioned the name of my adored Helen; and,
+heigho! I never sighed for her in my life!
+
+_Pon._ Nor I, sir; though I've been married these three years, I never
+once sighed for my dear wife in all that time--heigho!
+
+_Char._ I mustn't be angry with the fellow. Why, I took you for an
+unobserving blockhead, or I would never have trusted you so near me.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, you _mis_-took me. I fancy it was in one of your most
+decided unobserving fits that you took _me_ for a blockhead.
+
+_Char._ Well, sir; I see you have discovered my secret. Act wisely, and
+it may be of service to you.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I haven't studied the law for nothing. I'm no fool, if I may
+be allowed the expression.
+
+_Char._ I begin to suspect you have penetration enough to be useful to
+me.
+
+_Pon._ And craving your pardon, sir, I begin to suspect your want of
+that faculty, from your not having found out that before.
+
+_Char._ I will now trust you, although once my servant, with the state
+of my heart.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, that's very kind of you, to trust your humble servant with a
+_secret_ he had himself discovered ten months ago.
+
+_Char._ Keep it with honour and prudence.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I _have_ kept it. Nobody knows of it, that I know of, except
+a few of your friends, many of your enemies, most travelling strangers,
+and all your neighbours.
+
+_Char._ Why, zounds! you don't mean to say that any body, except
+yourself, suspects me to be in love.
+
+_Pon._ Suspects! no, sir; _suspicion_ is out of the question; it is
+taken as a proved fact in all society, a bill found by every grand jury
+in the county.
+
+_Char._ The devil it is! Zounds! I shall never be able to show my
+face--this will never do--my boasted disdain of ever bowing to the power
+of love--how ridiculous will it now render me--while the mystery and
+sacred secrecy of this attachment constituted the chief delight it gave
+to the refinement of my feelings--O! I'll off to sea again--I won't stay
+here--order a post-chaise--no--yes--a chaise and four, d'ye hear?
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; but I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ What?
+
+_Pon._ That it is possible you may alter your mind.
+
+_Char._ No such thing, sir; I'll set off this moment; order the chaise,
+I say.
+
+_Pon._ Think of it again, sir.
+
+_Char._ Will you obey my orders, or not?
+
+_Pon._ I think I will. (_aside_) Poor gentleman! now could I blow him up
+into a blaze in a minute, by telling him that his mistress is just on
+the point of marriage with his cousin, but though they say "ill news
+travels apace," they shall never say that I rode postillion on the
+occasion. [_Exit into inn._
+
+_Char._ Here's a discovery! all my delicate management destroyed! known
+all over the country! I'm off! and yet to have travelled so far, and not
+to have one glimpse of her! but then to be pointed at as a poor devil in
+love, a silly inconsistent boaster! no, that wont do--but then I may see
+her--yes, I'll see her once--just once--for three minutes, or three
+minutes and a half at most--no longer positively--Ponder, Ponder!
+(_enter Ponder_) Ponder, I say--
+
+_Pon._ I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, for I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ Damn your thinking, sir!
+
+_Pon._ I was only thinking that you may have altered your mind already.
+
+_Char._ I have not altered my mind: but since I _am_ here, I should be
+wanting in duty not to pay my respects to my father; so march on with
+the trunk, sir.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir: but if that's all you want to do, sir, you may spare
+yourself the trouble of going further, for, most fortunately, here he
+comes; and your noble cousin, lord Austencourt, with him--
+
+_Char._ The devil!
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; the devil, and his uncle, your father, if I may be
+allowed the expression. [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ lord Austencourt.
+
+_Char._ My dear father, I am heartily glad to see you--
+
+_Sir R._ How is this, Charles! returned thus unexpectedly?
+
+_Char._ Unexpected pleasure, they say, sir, is always most welcome--I
+hope you find it so.
+
+_Sir R._ This conduct, youngster, requires explanation.
+
+_Char._ Sir, I have it ready at my tongue's end--My lord, I ask your
+pardon--I'm glad to see you too.
+
+_Lord A._ I wish, sir, I could return the compliment; but this
+extraordinary conduct--
+
+_Char._ No apologies, my lord, for your civil speech--you might easily
+have returned the compliment in the same words, and, believe me, with as
+much sincerity as it was offered.
+
+_Sir R._ This is no time for dissention, sir--
+
+_Lord A._ My cousin forgets, sir Rowland, that although united by ties
+of consanguinity, _birth_ and _fortune_ have placed me in a station
+which commands some respect.
+
+_Char._ No, my lord, for I also am in a station where I _too_ command
+respect, where I respect and am respected. I therefore well know what is
+due to my superiors; and this duty I never forget, till those above me
+forget what they owe to themselves.
+
+_Lord A._ I am not aware, good cousin, that I have ever yet forfeited my
+title to the respect I claim.
+
+_Char._ You have, my lord: for high rank forfeits every claim to
+distinction when it exacts submissive humility from those beneath it,
+while at the same time it refuses a graceful condescension in exchange.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, Charles, these sentiments but ill become the dependent
+state in which Fortune has placed you.
+
+_Char._ Dependent state! Dependent upon whom! What, on _him_! my titled,
+tawdry cousin there? What are his pretensions, that he shall presume to
+brand me as a poor dependent!--What are _his_ claims to independence?
+How does he spend the income Fortune has allotted to him? Does he
+rejoice to revive in the mansion of his ancestors the spirit of old
+English hospitality? Do the eyes of aged tenants twinkle with joy when
+they hope his coming? do the poor bless his arrival? I say no. He is the
+lord of land--and is also, what he seems still more proud of, a lord of
+parliament; but I will front him in both capacities, and frankly tell
+him, that in the first he is a burthen to his own estate, and not a
+benefactor; and in the second, a peer but not a prop.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, how dare you thus persevere! You cannot deny, rash and
+foolish boy, that you are in a dependant state. Your very profession
+proves it.
+
+_Char._ O, father, spare that insult! The profession I glory to belong
+to, is above dependence--yes! while we live and fight, we feel, and
+gratefully acknowledge, that our pay depends on our king and country,
+and therefore you _may_ style us dependant; but in the hour of battle we
+wish for nothing more than to show that the glory and safety of the
+nation _depends on us_; and by our death or blood to repay all previous
+obligation.
+
+_Sir R._ Dismiss this subject.
+
+_Char._ With all my heart--My cousin was the subject, and he's a
+fatiguing one.
+
+_Sir R._ Though you do not love your cousin, you ought to pay that
+deference to his rank which you refuse to his person.
+
+_Char._ Sir, I do; like a fine mansion in the hands of a bad inhabitant.
+I admire the building, but despise the tenant.
+
+_Lord A._ This insolence is intolerable, and will not be forgotten. You
+may find, hot sir, that Where my friendship is despised, my resentment
+may be feared. I well know the latent motives for this insult. It is the
+language of a losing gamester, and is treated with deserved contempt by
+a _successful rival_. [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Ha! a _successful rival_! Is this possible?
+
+_Sir. R._ It is. The treaty of marriage between lord Austencourt and
+Helen is this morning concluded.
+
+_Char._ And does she consent?
+
+_Sir R._ There can be little doubt of that.
+
+_Char._ But _little_ doubt! False Helen! Come, come, I know my Helen
+better.
+
+_Sir R._ I repeat my words, sir. It is not the curse of every parent to
+have a disobedient child.
+
+_Char._ By Heaven, sir, that reflection cuts me to the heart. You have
+ever found in me the obedience, nay more, the affection of a son, till
+circumstance on circumstance convinced me, I no longer possessed the
+affection of a father.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, we are too warm. I feel that I have in some degree
+merited your severe reproof--give me your hand, and to convince you that
+you undervalue my feelings towards you, I will now confess that I have
+been employed during your absence, in planning an arrangement which will
+place you above the malice of fortune--you know our neighbour, Mrs.
+Richland--
+
+_Char._ What, the gay widow with a fat jointure? What of her?
+
+_Sir R._ She will make not only a rich, but a good wife. I know she
+likes you--I'm sure of it.
+
+_Char._ Likes _me_!
+
+_Sir R._ I am convinced she does.
+
+_Char._ But--what the devil--she doesn't mean to marry me surely!
+
+_Sir R._ That will, I am convinced, depend upon yourself.
+
+_Char._ Will it? then by the Lord, though I sincerely esteem her, I
+shall make my bow, and decline the honour at once. No, sir; the heart is
+_my_ aim, and all the gold I care for in the hand that gives it, is the
+modest ring that encompasses the finger, and marks that hand as mine
+forever.
+
+_Sir R._ Thus I see another of my prospects blighted! Undutiful,
+degenerate boy! your folly and obstinacy will punish themselves. Answer
+me not; think of the proposal I have made you; obey your father's will,
+or forever I renounce you! [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Whoo! here's a whirligig! I've drifted on to a pleasant lee
+shore here! Helen betrothed to another! Impossible.--Oh Helen! Helen!
+Zounds! I'm going to make a soliloquy! this will never do! no, I'll see
+Helen; upbraid her falsehood; drop one tear to her memory; regain my
+frigate; seek the enemy; fight like a true sailor; die like a Briton;
+and leave my character and memory to my friends--and my blessing and
+forgiveness to Helen. [_Exit._
+
+_End of act II._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_O'Dedimus's office. Ponder discovered._
+
+_Ponder._ So! having executed my commission, let me _think_ a little
+(_sits down,_) for certain I and my master are two precious rogues
+(_pauses._) I wonder whether or not we shall be discovered, as
+assistants in this sham marriage (_pauses._) If we _are_, we shall be
+either transported or hanged, I wonder which:--My lord's bribe, however,
+was convenient; and in all cases of _conscience versus convenience_,
+'tis the general rule of practice to nonsuit the plaintiff. Ha! who's
+here? The poor girl herself. (_Enter Fanny._) I pity her; but I've been
+bribed; so I must be honest.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, sir! I'm in sad distress--my father has discovered my
+intercourse with lord Austencourt, and says, he is sure my lord means to
+deny our marriage; but I have told him, as you and your master were
+present, I am sure you will both be ready to prove it, should my lord
+act so basely.
+
+_Pon._ I must mind my hits here, or shall get myself into a confounded
+scrape--ready to do what, did you say, ma'am, to prove your marriage?
+
+_Fan._ Yes, as you both were present.
+
+_Pon._ Present! me! Lord bless me, what is it you mean? Marriage! prove!
+me! present!
+
+_Fan._ Why do you hesitate? come, come, you do but jest with me--you
+cannot have forgotten it--
+
+_Pon._ Hey? why no! but I can't say I remember it--
+
+_Fan._ Sure, sure, you cannot have the barbarity to deny that you were a
+witness to the ceremony!
+
+_Pon._ I may be mistaken--I've a remarkably short memory; but to the
+best of my recollection I certainly--
+
+_Fan._ Ay, you recollect it--
+
+_Pon._ I certainly _never was_ present--
+
+_Fan._ Cruel! you were--indeed, indeed you were.
+
+_Pon._ But at one wedding in my life.
+
+_Fan._ And that was mine--
+
+_Pon._ No, that was mine.
+
+_Fan._ Merciful Heaven! I see my fate--it is disgrace and misery!
+
+_Pon._ Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can't--however I'll
+speak to my master about it, and if _he_ recollects it I dare say _I_
+shall.
+
+_Fan._ I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is
+decided.
+
+_Pon._ Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what
+they are thinking of--they're coming this way. _I_ think we had better
+retire.
+
+_Fan._ O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from
+scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him--
+
+_Pon._ You can't escape that way, so you must come this. They wont think
+of coming here. (_puts her into another room_) Poor girl! I've a great
+mind to confess the whole affair. What shall I get by that? Nothing!
+nothing! Oh! that's contrary to law! [_Exit.
+
+    Enter_ lord Austencourt _and_ O'Dedimus.
+
+_Lord A._ Are you certain no one can overhear us?
+
+_O'Ded._ There's nobody can hear us except my ould housekeeper, and
+she's as deaf as St. Dunstan's clock-strikers.
+
+_Lord A._ There is no time to be lost. You must immediately repair to
+Fanny--tell her my affection is unabated--tell her I shall ever love
+her, and make her such pecuniary offers, as shall convince her of my
+esteem and affection; but we must meet no more. (_Fanny utters a cry
+behind._)
+
+_O'Ded._ What's that?
+
+_Lord A._ We are betrayed!
+
+_O'Ded._ Och! 'tis only my ould housekeeper.
+
+_Lord A._ Your housekeeper! I thought you told me she was deaf.
+
+_O'Ded._ Yes; but she isn't dumb. Devil a word can she _hear_ for
+sartin; but she's apt to _say_ a great many, and so we may proceed.
+
+_Lord A._ You will easily accomplish this business with Fanny.
+
+_O'Ded._ I'm afraid not. To tell you the truth, my lord, I don't like
+the job.
+
+_Lord A._ Indeed! and why, sir?
+
+_O'Ded._ Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes
+brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I'm more
+apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that
+will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself,
+my lord.
+
+_Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find
+some one less delicate.
+
+_O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may
+not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself.
+
+_Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will
+be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing
+him--money, I suppose, is his object.
+
+_O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from
+working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately
+tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take
+shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty.
+
+_Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your
+purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is
+ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by
+money he must be removed.
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the
+feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a
+false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence!
+
+_Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him
+(_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet,
+he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it!
+a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy
+kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with
+grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I
+will love, forgive, will pray for you--
+
+_Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to
+surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness.
+
+_O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery
+to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.
+
+_Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to
+shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery!
+
+_Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you!
+
+_Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I
+fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked
+men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in
+dreadful evidence against you! 'Tis Heaven itself! 'tis there your vows
+were heard! 'tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered!
+then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and
+retreat! reflect that we are married!
+
+_Lord A._ I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again.
+
+_Fanny._ Do not command me from you; I see your heart is softened by my
+tears; cherish the stranger Pity in your breast; 'tis noble, excellent!
+Such pity in itself is virtue! Oh, cherish it, my lord! nor let the
+selfish feelings of the world step in to smother it! Now! now, while it
+glows unstifled in your heart! now, ere it dies, to be revived no more,
+at once proclaim the triumph of your virtue, and receive into your arms
+a fond and an acknowledged wife!
+
+_Lord A._ Ha! impossible! Urge me no more! I cannot, will not hear
+you--My heart has ever been your own, my _hand must_ be another's; still
+we may love each other; still we may sometimes meet.
+
+_Fanny_ (_after a struggle._) I understand you! No, sir! Since it must
+be, we will meet no more! I know that there are laws; but to these laws
+I disdain to fly! Mine is an injury that cannot be redressed; for the
+only mortal witnesses to our union you have suborned: the laws,
+therefore, cannot do me justice, and I will never, inhuman as you are, I
+will never seek them for revenge. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded_ (_aside._) I'm thinking, that if I was a lord, I should act in a
+clean _contrary_ way; by the powers now, that man has got what I call a
+tough constitution; his heart's made of stone like a brick wall--Oh!
+that a man should have the power of a man, and not know how to behave
+like a man!
+
+_Lord A._ What's to be done? speak, advise me!
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it: have you made up your mind already, that you ask me
+to advise you?
+
+_Lord A._ I know not how to act.
+
+_O'Ded._ When a man's in doubt whether he should act as an honest man or
+a rogue, there are two or three small reasons for choosing the right
+side.
+
+_Lord A._ What is't you mean, sir?
+
+_O'Ded._ I mean this thing--that as I suppose you're in doubt whether to
+persecute the poor souls, or to marry the sweet girl in right earnest.
+
+_Lord A._ Marry her! I have no such thoughts--idiot!
+
+_O'Ded._ Idiot! That's no proof of your lordship's wisdom to come and
+ask advice of one.--Idiot, by St. Patrick! an idiot's a fool, and that's
+a Christian name was never sprinkled upon Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney
+at law!
+
+_Lord A._ I can feel for the unfortunate girl as well as you; but the
+idea of marrying her is too ridiculous.
+
+_O'Ded._ The unfortunate girl never knew misfortune till she knew you,
+my lord; and I heartily wish your lordship may never look more
+ridiculous than you would do in performing an act of justice and mercy.
+
+_Lord A._ You presume strangely, sir, on my confidence and
+condescension!
+
+_O'Ded._ What! are you coming over me now with the pride of your
+condescension. _That_ for your condescension! When a great man, my lord,
+does me the honour to confide in me, he'll find me trusty and
+respectful; but when he condescends to make me an agent and a partner in
+his iniquity, by your leave from that moment there's an end of
+distinction between us.
+
+_Lord A._ There's no enduring this! Scoundrel!
+
+_O'Ded._ Scoundrel! ditto, my lord, ditto! If I'm a scoundrel, it was
+you that made me one, and by St. Patrick, there's a brace of us.
+
+_Lord A._ (_aside_) The fellow has me in his power at present--you see
+me irritated, and you ought to bear with me--let us think of this no
+more. The father and daughter must both be provided for out of that
+money which sir Rowland still holds in trust for me.
+
+_O'Ded._ And if you depend upon that money to silence the old man, you
+might as well think to stop a mouse-hole with toasted cheese.
+
+_Lord A._ Pray explain, sir.
+
+_O'Ded._ Devil a penny of it is there left. Sir Rowland ventured it in a
+speculation, and all is lost--Oh! blister my tongue, I've let out the
+secret, sure enough!
+
+_Lord A._ Indeed! and what right had sir Rowland to risk my property? Be
+assured I will exact every guinea of it.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's just what I told him. Sir, says I, his lordship is one
+of the flinty-hearted ones, and devil a thirteener will he forgive
+you--but, my lord, it will utterly ruin sir Rowland to replace it.
+
+_Lord A._ Sir Rowland should have thought of that before he embarked my
+property in a hazardous enterprise. Inform him, sir, from me that I
+expect an instant account of it.
+
+_O'Ded._ I shall do that thing, sir: but please to reflect a little--the
+money so laid out was honestly intended for your advantage.
+
+_Lord A._ Another word sir, and I shall think it necessary to employ
+another attorney.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, that's a quietus--I've done--only remember that if you
+proceed to extremities, I warrant you'll repent it.
+
+_Lord A._ _You_ warrant--
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and a warrant of attorney is reckoned decent good
+security.
+
+_Lord A._ Since my uncle has so far forgotten his duty as a guardian, I
+have now an opportunity, which I shall not neglect, to bring him to a
+proper recollection--you have nothing to do but to obey my orders; and
+these are that the fourteen thousand pounds, of which he has defrauded
+my estate, shall be immediately repaid. Look to it, sir, and to the
+other affair you are entrusted with, and see that the law neglects no
+measures to recover what is due to me. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded._ And by St. Patrick, if the law gives you what is due to you,
+that's what I'm too polite to mention. You've had your swing in iniquity
+long enough, and such swings are very apt to end in one that's much too
+exalted for my notions. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_an apartment at_ sir Willoughby's.--_Enter_ sir Willoughby,
+_and_ William _meeting him, the latter delivers a letter._
+
+_Will._ The gentleman desired me to say he is below, sir.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! (_reads_) "My dear Worret, I hope that a long absence from
+my native land has not obliterated the recollection of our friendship. I
+have thought it right to adopt this method of announcing my return, lest
+my too sudden appearance should hurt _your_ feelings, by deranging the
+_delicate nerves_ of your _amiable lady_" Hey!
+
+    "Ever yours,
+        "FREDERICK FALKNER."
+
+Bless my soul! Falkner alive? show the gentleman up.
+
+_Will._ He's here, sir.
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner.
+
+_Falk._ My old friend, I rejoice to see you.
+
+_Sir W._ Friend Falkner, I shan't attempt to say how welcome your return
+is. We all thought you dead and buried. Where have you been all these
+years?
+
+_Falk._ A wanderer. Let that suffice.
+
+_Sir W._ I see you still retain your old antipathy to answering
+questions, so I shall ask none--Have you been in France, or among the
+savages? Hey! I remember you had a daughter at school--is she alive? is
+she merry or miserable? Is she married?
+
+_Falk._ Zounds what a medley! France and savages! marriage and misery!
+
+_Sir W._ Ods life, I'm happy to see you! I haven't been so cheerful or
+happy for many a day.
+
+_Falk._ How's your wife?
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! thank ye, sir! why that excellent good woman is in high
+health, in astonishing health! by my troth I speak it with unspeakable
+joy, I think she's a better life now than she was when I married her!
+(_in a melancholy tone._)
+
+_Falk._ That must be a source of _vast comfort_ to you. I don't wonder
+at your being so cheerful and happy.
+
+_Sir W._ True--but it isn't _that_--that is, not altogether so: no, 'tis
+that I once more hold my friend Falkner by the hand, and that my
+daughter--you remember your little favourite Helen--
+
+_Falkner._ I do indeed!
+
+_Sir W._ You are arrived at a critical moment: I mean shortly to marry
+her--
+
+_Falkner._ I forbid the banns!
+
+_Sir W._ The devil you do!
+
+_Falkner._ Pshaw! (_aside_) my feelings o'erstep my discretion. Take
+care what you're about--If you're an honest man, you'd rather see her
+dead than married to a villain.
+
+_Sir W._ To be sure I would; but the man I mean her to marry--
+
+_Falkner._ Perhaps will never be her husband.
+
+_Sir W._ The devil he wont! why not?
+
+_Falkner._ Talk of something else--you know I was always an eccentric
+being--
+
+_Sir W._ What the devil does he mean? yes, yes you was always eccentric;
+but do you know--
+
+_Falkner._ I know more than I wish to know; I've lived long enough in
+the world to know that roguery fattens on the same soil where honesty
+starves; and I care little whether time adds to information which opens
+to me more and more the depravity of human nature.
+
+_Sir W._ Why, Falkner, you are grown more a misanthrope than ever.
+
+_Falkner._ You know well enough I have had my vexations in life; in an
+early stage of it I married--
+
+_Sir W._ Every man has his trials!
+
+_Falkner._ About two years afterwards I lost my wife.
+
+_Sir W._ That was a heavy misfortune! however you bore it with
+fortitude.
+
+_Falkner._ I bore it easily; my wife was a woman without feelings: she
+had not energy for great virtue, and she had no vice, because she had no
+passion: life with her was a state of stagnation.
+
+_Sir W._ How different are the fates of men!
+
+_Falkner._ In the next instance, I had a friend whom I would have
+trusted with my life--with more--my honour--I need not tell you then I
+thought him the first of human beings; but I was mistaken--he understood
+my character no better than I knew his: he confided to me a transaction
+which proved him to be a villain, and I commanded him never to see me
+more.
+
+_Sir W._ Bless me! what was that transaction?
+
+_Falkner._ It was a secret, and has remained so. Though I should have
+liked to hang the fellow, he had trusted me, and no living creature but
+himself and me at this day is possessed of it.
+
+_Sir W._ Strange indeed; and what became of him.
+
+_Falkner._ I have not seen him since, but I shall see him in a few
+hours.
+
+_Sir W._ Indeed, is he in this neighbourhood?
+
+_Falkner._ That circumstance of my friend, and a loss in the West
+Indies, which shook the fabric of my fortune to its foundation, drove me
+from the world--I am now returned to it with better prospects--my
+property, which I then thought lost, is doubled--circumstances have
+called me hither on an important errand, and before we are four and
+twenty hours older, you may see some changes which will make you doubt
+your own senses for the remainder of your days--
+
+_Sir W._ You astonish me mightily.
+
+_Falkner._ Yes, you stare as if you were astonished: but why do I stay
+chattering here? I must be gone.
+
+_Sir. W._ Nay, pr'ythee now--
+
+_Falkner._ Pshaw! I have paid my first visit to you, because you are the
+first in my esteem: don't weaken it by awkward and unseasonable
+ceremony--I must now about the business that brings me here: no
+interruption, if you wish to see me again let me have my own way, and I
+may, perhaps, be back in half an hour.
+
+_Sir W._ But I want to tell you that--
+
+_Falkner._ I know--I know--you want to prove to me that you are the
+least talker, and the best husband in the county: but both secrets must
+keep till my return, when I shall be happy to congratulate you--and so
+farewell-- [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ Bless my soul! what can he mean? 'I forbid the banns'--'lost my
+wife'--'horrid transaction'--'back again in half an hour'--dear
+me--John--Thomas! lady Worret! Helen! [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A room in_ sir Willoughby's _house_--Helen _and_ Charles
+_meeting_--Helen _screams--they run towards each other, as if to
+embrace_--Charles _stops suddenly._
+
+_Helen._ Charles! is it _you_, or is it your _spirit_?
+
+_Char._ 'Tis I, madam, and you'll find I have brought my spirit with me.
+
+_Helen._ Hey! why what the deuce ails the man?
+
+_Char._ My presence here, no doubt astonishes you.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir, your presence _does_ astonish me, but your manner
+still more.
+
+_Char._ I understand you--you would still keep a poor devil in your
+toils, though in his absence you have been sporting with _nobler_ game.
+
+_Helen._ My good friend, will you descend from your heroical stilts, and
+explain your meaning in plain English?
+
+_Char._ There needs no explanation of my conduct--call it caprice--say,
+if you please, that _I_ am _altered_--say _I have changed my mind_, and
+love another better--
+
+_Helen._ Indeed! and is it come to this! he shall not see he mortifies
+me, however--(_aside_) Since you are in this mind, sir, I wish you had
+been pleased to signify the same by letter, sir--
+
+_Char._ By letter?
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir,--for this personal visit being rather unexpected,
+does not promise to be particularly pleasant--
+
+_Char._ I believe so, madam--you did not calculate, I fancy, on this
+_sudden_ return.
+
+_Helen._ No, indeed, sir--and should have shown all Christian patience
+if this _sudden_ return hadn't happened these _twelve months_.
+
+_Char._ The devil you would! madam!--but I'll be cool--I'll cut her to
+the heart with a razor of ice--I'll congeal her with indifference--you
+must know, madam--
+
+_Helen._ Bless me, Charles, how very strangely you look--you're pale and
+red, and red and pale, in the same moment! why you can scarcely breathe!
+and now you tremble so! I'm afraid you are very ill.
+
+_Char._ Sarcastic!
+
+_Helen._ You move all over like a ship in a storm!
+
+_Char._ Vastly well, madam--and now--
+
+_Helen._ Your teeth chatter!--
+
+_Char._ Fire and fagots, madam, I _will_ speak!
+
+_Helen._ Do, dear Charles, while your are able--your voice will be gone
+in a minute or two, and then--
+
+_Char._ I will be heard! (_bawling_)
+
+_Helen._ That you will, indeed, and all over the house, too.
+
+_Char._ Madam, will you hear me or not?
+
+_Helen._ I am glad to find there's no affection of the lungs!
+
+_Char._ Death and torments! may I be allowed to speak--yes, or no?
+
+_Helen._ Yes, but gently; and make haste before they call the watch.
+
+_Char._ Madam, madam--I wish to keep my temper--I wish to be cool.
+
+_Helen._ Perhaps this will answer the purpose (_Fanning him_).
+
+_Char._ (_In confusion, after a pause, aside_) Is she laughing at me
+now, or trying to wheedle me into a good humour? I feel, Miss Worret,
+that I am expressing myself with too much warmth--I must therefore
+inform you, that being ordered home with despatches, and having some
+leisure time on my hands on my return, I thought it but proper as I
+passed the house to call at your door--just to say--a--a--just civilly
+to say--false! cruel! perfidious girl! you may break the tough heart of
+a sailor, but damn me if he will ever own it broke for love of you!
+
+_Helen._ On my honour, sir, I do not understand what all this means.
+
+_Char._ You don't?
+
+_Helen._ No, sir--if your purpose here is insult, you might, methinks,
+have found some fitter object than one who has so limited a power to
+resent it! [_Going._
+
+_Char._ Stay, madam, stay--what a face is there! a smile upon it too:
+oh, Helen, spare those smiles! they once could wake my soul to ecstasy!
+but now they rouse it into madness: save them, madam, for a happier
+lover--save them for lord Austencourt.
+
+_Helen._ Charles, Charles, you have been deceived: but come, sit down
+and hear me.
+
+_Char._ I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience
+which the subject demands.
+
+_Helen._ As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my
+father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all
+other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and
+fortune--
+
+_Char._ (_Rising in anger_) Spare yourself the trouble of further
+explanation, madam; I see the whole at once--you are now going to tell
+me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the
+canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy
+frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the
+frequented shrine of avarice and ambition!
+
+_Helen._ (_Rising also_) When I am next inclined to descend to
+explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me.
+[_Going._
+
+_Char._ A moment, madam! The whole explanation lies in a word--has not
+your father concluded a treaty of marriage between you and lord
+Austencourt?
+
+_Helen._ He _has_--
+
+_Char._ There--'tis enough! you have confessed it--
+
+_Helen._ (_Stifling her tears_) Confessed what? you monster! I've
+confessed nothing.
+
+_Char._ Haven't you acknowledged that you are to be the wife of another?
+
+_Helen._ No.
+
+_Char._ No! won't you consent then?
+
+_Helen._ Half an hour ago nothing on earth should have induced me to
+consent--but since I see, Charles, of what your temper is capable, I
+shall think it more laudable to risk my happiness by obedience to my
+father, than by an ill-judged constancy to one who seems so little
+inclined to deserve it. [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Hey! where am I! zounds, I see my whole error at once! Oh,
+Helen, Helen--for mercy's sake one moment more!--She's gone--and has
+left me in anger! but I will see her again, and obtain her
+forgiveness--fool, idiot, dolt, ass, that I am, to suffer my cursed
+temper to master reason and affection at the risk of losing the dearest
+blessing of life--a lovely and an amiable woman! [_Exit._
+
+_End of Act III._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I.--O'Dedimus's _office--Enter_ Charles _pulling in_ Ponder _by
+the collar._
+
+_Char._ This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if
+you expect mercy at my hands.
+
+_Pon._ I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for
+you've already handled me most unmercifully--(_Charles shakes him_) what
+would you please to have me confess, sir?
+
+_Char._ I have seen old Abel Grouse--he has told me the story of his
+daughter's marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah,
+confess the truth--were you present, or were you not? out with it
+(_shakes him_).
+
+_Pon._ Now pray recollect yourself--do, sir--think a little.
+
+_Char._ Recollect myself?
+
+_Pon._ Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you'll give _me_
+time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken
+out of my pericranium.
+
+_Char._ No equivocation, answer directly, or though you're no longer my
+servant, by heavens I'll--
+
+_Pon._ Sir--for heaven's sake!--you'll shake nothing more out of me,
+depend on't--if you'll be pleased to pause a moment, I'll think of an
+answer.
+
+_Charles._ It requires no recollection to say whether you were a
+witness--
+
+_Pon._ No indeed, sir, ask my master if I was; besides if I had been, my
+conscience wouldn't let me disclose it.
+
+_Charles._ Your conscience! good, and you're articled to an attorney!
+
+_Pon._ True, sir, but there's a deal of conscience in our office; if my
+master knew I betrayed his secrets even to you, I believe (in
+conscience,) he'd hang me if he could.
+
+_Charles._ If my old friend O'Dedimus proves a rogue at last, I shan't
+wonder that you have followed his example.
+
+_Pon._ No, sir, for I always follow my master's example, even though it
+should be in the path of roguery; compliment apart sir, I always
+followed yours.
+
+_Charles._ Puppy, you trifle with my patience.
+
+_Pon._ No indeed, sir, I never play with edg'd tools.
+
+_Charles._ You wont acknowledge it then.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir, I'll acknowledge the truth, but I scorn a lie.
+
+_Charles._ 'Tis true I always thought you honest. I have ever trusted
+you, Ponder, even as a friend: I do not believe you capable of deceiving
+me.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, (_gulping_) I can't swallow that! it choaks me (_falling on
+his knees_); forgive me, dear master that _was_; your threats I could
+withstand, your violence I could bear, but your kindness and good
+opinion there is no resisting; promise you wont betray me.
+
+_Charles._ So; now it comes. I do.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, the whole truth shall out, they _are_ married, sir,
+and they are _not_ married, sir.
+
+_Charles._ Enigma too!
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir, they are married, but the priest was ordained by my
+master, and the license was of his own granting, and so they are not
+married, and now the enigma's explained.
+
+_Charles._ Your master then is a villain!
+
+_Pon._ I don't know, sir, that puzzles me: but he's such an honest
+follow I can hardly think him a rogue--though I fancy, sir, between
+ourselves, he's like the rest of the world, half and half, or like
+punch, sir, a mixture of opposites.
+
+_Charles._ So! villany has been thriving in my absence. If you feel the
+attachment you profess why did you not confide this to me before?
+
+_Pon._ Sir, truth to speak, I did not tell you, because, knowing the
+natural gentleness of your disposition, which I have so often admired, I
+was alarmed, lest the sudden shock should cause one of those irascible
+fits, which I have so often witnessed, and produce some of those shakes
+and buffets, which to my unspeakable astonishment, I have so often
+experienced.
+
+_Charles._ And which, I can tell you, you have now so narrowly escaped.
+
+_Pon._ True sir, I have escaped as narrowly as a felon who gets his
+reprieve five minutes _after_ execution.
+
+_Charles._ Something must be done. I am involved in a quarrel with Helen
+too! curse on my irritable temper.
+
+_Pon._ So I say, sir--try and mend it; pray do.
+
+_Charles._ I am resolved to have another interview with her;--to throw
+myself at her feet, and sue for pardon! Though fate should oppose our
+union, I may still preserve her from the arms of a villain, who is
+capable of deceiving the innocent he could not seduce: and of planting a
+dagger in the female heart, where nature has bestowed her softest
+attributes, and has only left it _weak_, that man might cherish,
+shelter, and protect it. [_Exit._
+
+_Pon._ So! now I'm a rogue both ways--If I escape punishment one way, I
+shall certainly meet it the other. But if my good luck saves me both
+ways I shall never more credit a fortune-teller: for one once predicted,
+that I was born to be hanged. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Sir Rowland's._
+
+    _Enter_ Sir Rowland _and_ O'Dedimus.
+
+_Sir R._ You have betrayed me then!--Did not I caution you to keep
+secret from my nephew this accursed loss.
+
+_O'Ded._ And so you did sure enough, but somehow it slipt out before I
+said a word about it; but I told him it was a secret, and I dare say he
+wont mention it.
+
+_Sir R._ But you say, that he demands the immediate liquidation.
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and has given me orders to proceed against you.
+
+_Sir R._ Is it possible! in a moment could I arrest his impious
+progress; but I will probe him to the quick, did he threaten me, say
+you?--There is however one way to save _him_ from this public avowal of
+his baseness, and _me_ from his intended persecution--a marriage between
+Charles and Mrs. Richland.
+
+_O'Ded._ The widow's as rich as the Wicklow mines!
+
+_Sir R._ The boy refuses to comply with my wishes; we may find means,
+however, to compel him.
+
+_O'Ded._ He's a sailor; and gentlemen of his kidney are generally pretty
+tough when they take a notion in their heads.
+
+_Sir R._ I am resolved to carry my point. I have reason to believe you
+advanced him a sum of money.
+
+_O'Ded._ I did that thing--he's a brave fellow; I'd do that thing again.
+
+_Sir R._ You did wrong, sir, to encourage a young spendthrift in
+disobedience to his father.
+
+_O'Ded._ I did right, sir, to assist the son of a client and the nephew
+of a benefactor, especially when his father hadn't the civility to do
+it.
+
+_Sir R._ Mr. O'Dedimus, you grow impertinent.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I grow old; and 'tis one privilege of age to grow
+blunt. I advanced your son a sum of money, because I esteemed him. I
+tack'd no usurious obligation to the bond he gave me, and I never came
+to ask you for security.
+
+_Sir R._ You _have_ his bond then--
+
+_O'Ded._ I have, sir; his bond and judgment for two hundred pounds.
+
+_Sir R._ It is enough: then you can indeed assist my views,--the dread
+of confinement will, no doubt, alter his resolution: you must enter up
+judgment, and proceed on your bond.
+
+_O'Ded._ If I proceed upon my bond, it will be very much against my
+judgment.
+
+_Sir R._ In order to alarm him, you must arrest him immediately.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I wish to treat you with respect--but when without
+a blush on your cheek you ask me to make myself a rascal, I must either
+be a scoundrel ready-made to your hands, for respecting you, or a damn'd
+hypocrite for pretending to do it--I see you are angry, sir, and I can't
+help that; and so, having delivered my message, for fear I should say
+any thing uncivil or ungenteel, I wish you a most beautiful good
+morning. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Then I have but one way left--my fatal secret must be publicly
+revealed--oh horror! ruin irretrievable is preferable--never--never--that
+secret shall die with _me_--(_Enter Falkner_) as 'tis probably
+already buried in the grave with Falkner.
+
+_Falk._ 'Tis false--'tis buried only in his heart!
+
+_Sir R._ Falkner!
+
+_Falk._ 'Tis eighteen years since last we met. You have not, I find,
+forgotten the theme on which we parted.
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, no! my heart's reproaches never would allow me! Oh
+Falkner--I and the world for many years have thought you numbered with
+the dead.
+
+_Falk._ To the world I was so--I have returned to it to do an act of
+justice.
+
+_Sir R._ Will you then betray me?
+
+_Falk._ During eighteen years, sir, I have been the depositary of a
+secret, which, if it does not actually affect your life, affects what
+should be dearer than life, your honor. If, in the moment that your
+ill-judged confidence avowed you as the man you are, and robbed me of
+that friendship which I held sacred as my being--If in that bitter
+moment I concealed my knowledge of your guilt from an imperious
+principle of honor, it is not likely, that the years which time has
+added to my life, should have taught me perfidy--your secret still is
+safe.
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, Falkner--you have snatched a load of misery from my heart;
+I breathe, I live again.
+
+_Falk._ Your exultation flows from a polluted source--I return to the
+world to seek you, to warm and to expostulate; I come to urge you to
+brave the infamy you have deserved; to court disgrace as the punishment
+you merit: briefly to avow your guilty secret.
+
+_Sir R._ Name it not for mercy's sake! It is impossible! How shall I
+sustain the world's contempt, its scorn, revilings and reproaches?
+
+_Falk._ Can he, who has sustained so long the reproaches of his
+conscience, fear the world's revilings?--Oh, Austencourt! Once you had a
+heart.
+
+_Sir R._ Sir, it is callous now to every thing but shame; when it lost
+_you_, its dearest only friend, its noblest feelings were extinguished:
+my crime has been my punishment, for it has brought on me nothing but
+remorse and misery: still is my fame untainted by the world, and I will
+never court its contumely.
+
+_Falk._ You are determined--
+
+_Sir R._ I am!
+
+_Falk._ Have you no fear from me?
+
+_Sir R._ None! You have renewed your promise, and I am safe.
+
+_Falk._ Nothing then remains for me but to return to that obscurity from
+whence I have emerged--had I found you barely leaning to the side of
+virtue, I had arguments to urge that might have fixed a wavering
+purpose; but I find you resolute, hardened and determined in guilt, and
+I leave you to your fate.
+
+_Sir R._ Stay, Falkner, there is a meaning in your words.
+
+_Falk._ A dreadful precipice lies before you: be wary how you tread!
+there is a being injured by your----by lord Austencourt, see that he
+makes her reparation by an immediate marriage--look first to that.
+
+_Sir R._ To such a degradation could _I_ forget my noble ancestry, _he_
+never will consent.
+
+_Falk._ Look next to yourself: he is not a half villain, and it is not
+the ties of consanguinity will save you from a jail. Beware how you
+proceed with Charles--you see I am acquainted with more than you
+suspected; look to it, sir; for the day is not yet passed that by
+restoring you to virtue, may restore to you a friend; or should you
+persevere in guilty silence, that may draw down unexpected vengeance on
+your head-- [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Mysterious man! a moment stay! I cannot live in this dreadful
+uncertainty! whatever is my fate, it shall be decided quickly. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_An apartment at sir Willoughby's; a door in the flat.
+Enter_ Helen _and_ Charles.
+
+_Helen._ I tell you, it is unless to follow me, sir. The proud spirit
+you evinced this morning, might have saved you methinks from this
+meanness of solicitation.
+
+_Charles._ Surely now a frank acknowledgment of error deserves a milder
+epithet than meanness.
+
+_Helen._ As you seem equally disposed, sir, to quarrel with my words, as
+you are to question my conduct, I fear you will have little cause to
+congratulate yourself on this _forced_ and _tiresome_ interview.
+
+_Charles._ _Forced_ interview! Did ever woman so consider the anxiety of
+a lover to seek explanation and forgiveness! Helen, Helen, you torture
+me; is this generous?--is it like yourself? surely if you lov'd me--
+
+_Helen._ Charles--I do love you--that, is, I _did_ love you, but--I
+don't love you, but (_aside_) ah! now I'm going to make bad worse.
+
+_Charles._ But _what_, Helen?
+
+_Helen._ The violence of temper you have discovered this morning, has
+shown me the dark side of your character; it has given a pause to
+affection, and afforded me time to reflect--now though I do really and
+truly believe that--you--love me Charles.
+
+_Sir W._ (_behind_) I must see my daughter directly--where is she!
+
+    _Enter_ Tiffany _running._
+
+_Tiffany._ Ma'am, ma'am, your father's coming up stairs, with a letter
+in his hand, muttering something about Mr. Charles; as sure as life
+you'll be discovered.
+
+_Helen._ For heav'n's sake hide yourself; I would not have him find you
+here for worlds--here, step into the music-room.
+
+_Charles._ Promise me first your forgiveness.
+
+_Helen._ Charles, retire, I entreat you--make haste, he is here.
+
+_Charles._ On my knees--
+
+_Helen._ Then kneel in the next room.
+
+_Charles._ Give me but your hand.
+
+_Helen._ That is now at my own disposal--I beseech you go--(_Charles
+just gains the door when enter sir Willoughby with a letter in his hand,
+and Lady Worret._)
+
+_Sir W._ Gadzooks! Here's a discovery!
+
+_Helen._ A discovery, sir? (_Helen looks at the door_)
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, a discovery indeed!--Ods life! I'm in a furious passion!
+
+_Helen._ Dear sir, not with me I hope--
+
+_Lady W._ Let me entreat you sir Willoughby to compose yourself;
+recollect that anger is very apt to bring on the gout.
+
+_Sir W._ Damn the gout, I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye,
+daughter--
+
+_Helen._ They know he's here! so I may as well own it at once.
+
+_Lady W._ Pray compose yourself, remember we have no _proof_.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that's true--that is remarkably true--I must compose
+myself--I _will_--I _do_--I _am_ composed--and now let me open the
+affair with coolness and deliberation! Daughter, come hither.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir--now for it!--
+
+_Sir W._ Daughter, you are in general, a very good, dutiful, and
+obedient child--
+
+_Helen._ I know it, papa--and was from a child, and I always will be.
+
+_Lady W._ Allow me, sir Willoughby--you are in general, child, a very
+headstrong, disobedient, and undutiful daughter.
+
+_Helen._ I know it, mamma--and was from a child, and always will be.
+
+_Lady W._ How, madam!--Remember, sir Willoughby--there is a proper
+medium between too violent a severity, and too gentle a lenity.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds, madam, in your own curs'd economy there is no
+medium--but don't bawl so, or we shall be overheard.
+
+_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, you are very ill I'm sure; but I must now
+attend to this business, daughter, we have heard that Charles--
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret, my love, let _me_ speak--you know, child, it is
+the duty of an _obedient_ daughter, to _obey_ her parents.
+
+_Helen._ I know it, papa, and when I _obey you_, I am _generally
+obedient_.
+
+_Lady W._ In short, child, I say again, we learn that Charles----
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret, lady Worret, you are too abrupt, od-rabbit it,
+madam, I will be heard: this affair concerns the _honor_ of my family,
+and on this one occasion, I will be my own spokesman.
+
+_Lady W._ Oh heavens! Your violence affects my brain.
+
+_Sir W._ Does it? I wish it would affect your tongue, with all my heart:
+bless my soul, what have I said! Lady Worret! lady Worret! you drive me
+out of my senses, and then wonder that I act like a madman.
+
+_Lady W._ Barbarous man, your cruelty will break my heart, and I shall
+leave you, sir Willoughby, to deplore my loss, in unavailing despair,
+and everlasting anguish. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ (_aside_) I am afraid not: such despair and anguish will never
+be my--happy--lot!--bless me, how quiet the room is--what can be--oh, my
+wife's gone! now then we may proceed to business--and so daughter, this
+young fellow, Charles, has dared to return, in direct disobedience to
+his father's commands.
+
+_Helen._ I had better confess it all at once--he has, he has, my dear
+papa. I do confess it was very, very wrong; but pray now do forgive--
+
+_Sir W._ _I_--forgive him! never; nor his father will never forgive him;
+sir Rowland writes me here, to take care of you; I have before given him
+my solemn promise to prevent your meeting, and I am sorry to say, I
+haven't the least doubt that you know he is here, and will--
+
+_Helen._ I do confess, _he_ is here, papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, you'll confess it fast enough, now I've found it out.
+
+_Helen._ Indeed I was so afraid you would find it out, that I----
+
+_Sir W._ Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the
+village these three hours!
+
+_Helen._ In the _village_! Oh, what, you heard he was in the _village_!
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house--egad
+I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear
+of finding you at a fault, you puss.
+
+_Helen._ Oh! you were afraid he should come _here_, were you?
+
+_Sir W._ Yes; but I'll take care he shan't; however, as my maxim is (now
+my wife doesn't hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can
+possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key,
+'till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again.
+
+_Helen._ What! lock me up!
+
+_Sir W._ Damme if I don't. Come, walk into that room, and I'll take the
+key with me. (_pointing to the room where Charles entered._)
+
+_Helen._ Into _that_ room?
+
+_Sir W._ Yes.
+
+_Helen._ And do you think I shall stay there by myself?
+
+_Sir W._ No, no. Here Tiffany! (_enter_ Tiffany) Miss Pert here shall
+keep you company. I'll have no whisperings through key-holes, nor
+letters thrust under doors.
+
+_Helen._ And you'll really lock me up in that room!
+
+_Sir W._ Upon my soul I will.
+
+_Helen._ Now, dear papa, be persuaded; take my advice, and don't.
+
+_Sir W._ If I _don't_, I wish you may be in Charles Austencourt's arms
+in three minutes from this present speaking.
+
+_Helen._ And if you _do_, take my word for it I might be in his arms if
+I chose, in less than two minutes from this present warning.
+
+_Sir W._ Might you so? Ha, ha! I'll give you leave if you can: for
+unless you jump into them out of the window, I'll defy the devil and all
+his imps to bring you together.
+
+_Helen._ We shall come together without their assistance, depend on it,
+papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Very well; and now, my dear, walk in.
+
+_Helen._ With all my heart; only remember you had better not. (_He puts
+her in._)
+
+_Sir W._ That's a good girl; and you, you baggage, in with you (_to
+Tiffany, who goes in._)
+
+_Sir W._ (_shuts the door and locks it_) "Safe bind, safe find," is one
+of my lady Worret's favourite proverbs; and that's the only reason why I
+in general dislike it (_going._)
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner.
+
+_Sir W._ Once more welcome, my dear Falkner. What brings you back so
+soon?
+
+_Falk._ You have a daughter--
+
+_Sir W._ Well, I know I have.
+
+_Falk._ And a wife.
+
+_Sir W._ I'm much obliged to you for the information. You have been a
+widower some years I believe.
+
+_Falk._ What of that? do you envy me?
+
+_Sir W._ Envy you! what! because you are a widower? Eh? Zounds, I
+believe he is laughing at me (_aside._)
+
+_Falk._ I am just informed that every thing is finally arranged between
+your lady and his lordship respecting Helen's marriage.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, every thing is happily settled.
+
+_Falk._ I am sincerely sorry to hear it.
+
+_Sir W._ You are! I should have thought Mr. Falkner, that my daughter's
+happiness was dear to you.
+
+_Falk._ It is, and therefore I do not wish to see her married to lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_Sir W._ Why then what the devil is it you mean?
+
+_Falk._ To see her married to the man of her heart, with whom I trust to
+see her as happy--as you are with lady Worret.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, ha! ha! ha! yes! but you are in jest respecting my
+daughter.
+
+_Falk._ No matter! where is Helen?
+
+_Sir W._ Safe under lock and key.
+
+_Falk._ Under lock and key!
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, in that very room. I've locked her up to keep her from that
+hot-headed young rogue, Charles Austencourt. Should you like to see her?
+She's grown a fine young woman.
+
+_Falk._ With all my heart.
+
+_Sir W._ You'll be surprised, I can tell you.
+
+_Falk._ I dare say.
+
+_Sir W._ We'll pop in upon her when she least expects it. I'll bet my
+life you'll be astonished at her appearance.
+
+_Falk._ Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not
+marry this lord.
+
+_Sir W._ No! Who then?
+
+_Falk._ The man she loves.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt?
+(_opening the door._)
+
+    _Enter_ Lady Worret, _suddenly._
+
+_Lady W._ Charles Austencourt!
+
+_Falk._ (_aloud, and striking the floor with his stick._) Ay, Charles
+Austencourt!
+
+_Charles_ (_entering._) Here am I. Who calls?
+
+Helen _and_ Tiffany _come forward, and_ Tiffany _goes off._
+
+_Sir W._ Fire and fagots! what do I see?
+
+_Lady W._ Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold?
+
+_Falk._ Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment
+seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show!
+
+_Lady W._ Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain--
+
+_Sir W._ Curse me if I can.
+
+_Helen._ I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me!
+
+_Sir W._ So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you
+introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation.
+
+_Charles._ Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you
+from her ladyship's just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the
+truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing,
+gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my
+arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated,
+and positively and deliberately lock'd us in together!
+
+_Lady W._ Oh! I shall expire!
+
+_Sir W._ I've heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn't
+the paragon of the species! Zounds! I'm in a wonderful passion!
+Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my
+satisfaction.
+
+_Helen._ You _may_ have it explained, papa, but I fear it won't be to
+your _satisfaction_.
+
+_Charles._ No, sir, nor to her ladyship's either, and now, as my
+situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your
+most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an
+agreeable surprise for your friends--
+
+_Sir W._ Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can't tell, but if you
+don't presently walk out of it.
+
+_Charles._ I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds, sir, leave my house.
+
+_Charles._ Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party!
+[_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ Thank heaven my house is rid of him.
+
+_Lady W._ As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you've made of
+this!
+
+_Sir W._ Death and furies, my Lady Worret--
+
+_Falk._ Gently, my old friend, gently: I'm one too many here during
+these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me
+caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to
+have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master
+of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what
+you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.-- [_Exit._
+
+_Lady W._ Ah! the barbarian!
+
+_Sir W._ (_appears astonished_) I'm thunderstruck (_makes signs to Helen
+to go before._)
+
+_Helen._ Won't you go first, papa?
+
+_Sir W._ Hey? If I lose sight of you till you've explained this
+business, may I be laid up with the gout while you are galloping the
+Gretna Green! "Be master of your house and wife if you don't wish to
+continue, _what you now are_!--Hey? the laughing-stock of all your
+acquaintance!" Sir Willoughby Worret the laughing stock of all his
+acquaintance! I think I see my self the laughing-stock of all my
+acquaintance (_pointing to the door_) I'll follow you ladies! I'll
+reform! 'tis never too late to mend! [_Exeunt._
+
+_End of Act. IV._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_An apartment at_ sir Willoughby Worret's. _Enter_ sir
+Willoughby _and_ lady Worret.
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret! lady Worret! I will have a reform. I am at last
+resolved to be master of my own house, and so let us come to a right
+understanding, and I dare say we shall be the better friends for it in
+future.
+
+_Lady W._ You shall see, sir Willoughby, that I can change as suddenly
+as yourself. Though you have seen my delicate system deranged on
+_slight_ occasions, you will find that in essential ones I have still
+spirit for resentment.
+
+_Sir W._ I'll have my house in future conducted as a gentleman's should
+be, and I will no longer suffer my wife to make herself the object of
+ridicule to all her servants. So I'll give up the folly of wishing to be
+thought a _tender_ husband, for the real honour of being found a
+_respectable_ one. I'll make a glorious bonfire of all your musty
+collection of family receipt-books! and when I deliver up your keys to
+an honest housekeeper, I'll keep one back of a snug apartment in which
+to deposit a rebellious wife.
+
+_Lady W._ That will be indeed the way to make yourself respectable. I
+have found means to manage you for some years, and it will be my own
+fault if I don't do so still.
+
+_Sir W._ Surely I dream! what? have you _managed_ me? Hey? Zounds! I
+never suspected that. Has sir Willoughby Worret been lead in
+leading-strings all this time? Death and forty devils, madam, have you
+presumed to manage _me_?
+
+_Lady W._ Yes, sir; but you had better be silent on the subject, unless
+you mean to expose yourself to your daughter and all the world.
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, Madam, with all my heart; my daughter and all the world
+shall know it.
+
+    _Enter_ Helen.
+
+_Helen._ Here's a pretty piece of work!--what's the matter now, I
+wonder?
+
+_Lady W._ How dare you overhear our domestic dissentions. What business
+have you to know we were quarrelling, madam?
+
+_Helen._ Lord love you! if I had heard it, I should not have listened,
+for its nothing new, you know, when you're _alone_; though you both look
+so _loving_ in _public_.
+
+_Sir W._ That's true--that is _lamentably_ true--but all the world
+_shall_ know it--I'll proclaim it; I'll print it--I'll advertise
+it!--She has usurped my rights and my power; and her fate, as every
+usurper's should be, shall be _public_ downfall and disgrace.
+
+_Helen._ What, papa! and won't you let mamma-in-law rule the roast any
+longer?
+
+_Sir W._ No,--I am resolved from this moment no longer to give way to
+her absurd whims and wishes.
+
+_Helen._ You are!
+
+_Sir W._ Absolutely and immovably.
+
+_Helen._ And you will venture to contradict her?
+
+_Sir W._ On every occasion--right or wrong.
+
+_Helen._ That's right--Pray, madam, don't you wish me to marry lord
+Austencourt?
+
+_Lady W._ You know my _will_ on that head, Miss Helen!
+
+_Helen._ Then, papa, of course you wish me to marry _Charles_
+Austencourt.
+
+_Sir W._ What! no such thing--no such thing--what! marry a beggar?
+
+_Helen._ But you won't let mamma rule the roast, will you, sir?
+
+_Sir W._ 'Tis a great match! I believe in that _one_ point we shall
+still agree--
+
+_Lady W._ You may spare your persuasions, Madam, and leave the room.
+
+_Sir W._ What--my daughter leave the room? Stay here, Helen.
+
+_Helen._ To be sure I shall--I came on purpose to tell you the news! oh,
+tis a pretty piece of work!
+
+_Sir W._ What does the girl mean?
+
+_Helen._ Why, I mean that in order to ruin a poor innocent girl, in our
+neighbourhood, this amiable lord has prevailed on her to consent to a
+private marriage--and it now comes out that it was all a mock marriage,
+performed by a sham priest, and a false license!
+
+_Lady W._ I don't believe one word of it.
+
+_Sir W._ But I do--and shall inquire into it immediately.
+
+_Lady W._ Such a match for your daughter is not to be relinquished on
+slight grounds; and though his lordship should have been guilty of some
+indiscretion, it will not alter my resolution respecting his union with
+Helen.
+
+_Sir W._ No--but it will mine--and to prove to you, madam, that however
+you may rule your household, you shall no longer rule _me_--if the story
+has any foundation--I say--she _shall not_ marry lord Austencourt.
+
+_Lady W._ Shall not?
+
+_Sir W._ No, Madam, shall not--and so ends your management, and thus
+begins my career of new-born authority. I'm out of leading-strings now,
+and madam, I'll manage you, damn me if--I--do--not! [_Exit Sir
+Willoughby._
+
+_Helen_ (_to Lady W._) You hear papa's _will_ on that head, ma'am.
+
+_Lady W._ I hear nothing!--I see nothing!--I shall go mad with vexation
+and disappointment, and if I do not break his resolution, I am
+determined to break his heart; and my _own_ heart, and _your_ heart, and
+the hearts of all the rest of the family. [_Exit._
+
+_Helen._ There she goes, with a laudable matrimonial resolution. Heigho!
+with such an example before my eyes, I believe I shall never have
+resolution to die an old maid. Oh, Charles, Charles--why did you take me
+at my word!--Bless me! sure I saw him then--'tis he indeed! So, my
+gentleman, are you there? I'll just retire and watch his motions a
+little (_retires._)
+
+    _Enter Charles Austencourt, cautiously._
+
+_Charles._ What a pretty state am I reduced to? though I am resolved to
+speak with this ungrateful girl but once more before I leave her for
+ever; here am I, skulking under the enemy's batteries as though I was
+afraid of an encounter!--Yes, I'll see her, upbraid her, and then leave
+her for ever! heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl,
+and--however, I am resolved that nothing on earth--not even her tears,
+shall now induce me to forgive her. (_Tiffany crosses the stage._)
+
+_Charles._ Ha!--harkye, young woman! pray are the family at home?
+
+_Tiffany._ My lady is at home, sir--would you please to see her?
+
+_Charles._ Your lady--do you mean your _young_ lady?
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir, I mean my _lady_.
+
+_Charles._ What, your _old_ lady?--No--I don't wish to see her. Are all
+the rest of the family from home--
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir--sir Willoughby is within--I'll tell him you are
+here. (_going._)
+
+_Charles._ By no means--stay--stay! what then, they are all at home
+except Miss Helen.
+
+_Tiffany._ She's at home too, sir--but I suppose she don't wish to see
+you.
+
+_Charles._ _You suppose!_
+
+_Tiffany._ I'm sure she's been in a monstrous ill-humour ever since you
+came back, sir.
+
+_Charles._ The devil she has!--and pray now are you of opinion that my
+return is the cause of her ill-humour?
+
+_Tiffany._ Lord, sir--what interest have I in knowing such things?--
+
+_Charles._ Interest!--oh, ho! the old story! why harkye, my dear--your
+mistress has a lord for her lover, so I suppose he has secured a warmer
+interest than I can afford to purchase--however, I know the custom, and
+thus I comply with it, in hopes you will tell me whether you really
+think my return has caused your young mistress' ill-humour----(_gives
+money_).
+
+_Tiffany._ A guinea! well! I declare! why really, sir--when I say Miss
+Helen has been out of humour on your account, I don't mean to say it is
+on account of your _return_, but on account of your going away again--
+
+_Charles._ No! my dear Tiffany!
+
+_Tiffany._ And I am sure I don't wonder at her being cross about it, for
+if I was my mistress I never would listen with patience (any more than
+she does) to such a disagreeable creature as my lord, while such a
+generous nice gentleman as you was ready to make love to me.
+
+_Charles._ You couldn't?
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir--and I'm sure she's quite altered and melancholy gone
+since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she
+never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you--(_Helen comes
+forward gently._)
+
+_Charles._ My dear Tiffany!--let me catch the sounds from your rosy
+lips. (_Kisses her_)--
+
+_Helen._ (_separating them_) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business
+here!
+
+_Charles._ I--I--I--Upon my soul, Madam--what you saw was--
+
+_Tiffany._ Ye--ye--yes--upon my word, ma'am--what you saw was--
+
+_Helen._ What I saw was very clear indeed!--
+
+_Charles._ Hear me but explain--you do not understand.--
+
+_Helen._ I rather think I _do_ understand.
+
+_Tiffany._ Indeed, Ma'am, Mr. Charles was only _whispering_ something I
+was to tell you--
+
+_Helen._ And pray, ma'am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper
+in that fashion?--what do you stand stammering and blushing there
+for?--why don't you go?
+
+_Tiffany._ Yes, ma'am,--but I assure you--
+
+_Helen._ What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose. [_Exit
+Tiffany._
+
+_Charles._ Let me explain this,--oh, Helen--can you be surprised?
+
+_Helen._ No, sir, I can't be surprised at any thing after what I have
+just witnessed--
+
+_Charles._ On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov'd
+me, that led me into this confounded scrape.
+
+_Helen._ Sir, you should not believe it--I don't love you. I wont love
+you,--and after what I have just seen, you can't expect I should love
+you--
+
+_Charles._ Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man
+who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear
+but very little more--
+
+_Helen._ Poor man! you're sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and
+by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn
+animal, having more than you can bear, you'll kick a little, and plunge
+a little, and then down on your _knees_ again!
+
+_Charles._ I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to
+believe you loved me.
+
+_Helen._ 'Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor
+ought to forgive you--for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to
+you.
+
+_Charles._ Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause?
+surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my
+fond affection?
+
+_Helen._ No! to be sure I couldn't, who could!--but what should I not
+have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented--to run
+away with you?
+
+_Charles._ Run away with me!--no!--zounds I've a chaise in waiting--
+
+_Helen._ Have you?--then pray let it wait,--no! no! Charles--though I
+haven't scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect
+for the world's opinion,--let us wait with patience,--time may rectify
+that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of
+it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the
+hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as
+by the more gradual poison of neglect.
+
+_Charles._ Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart--'tis a _rough_
+soil I own, but 'tis a _warm_ one; and when the hand of delicacy shall
+have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be
+everlasting love!
+
+_Helen._ Ah you men!--you men! but--I think I may be induced to try
+you.--Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart,
+and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (_he
+kisses her hand._) There you needn't eat it--there!--now make your
+escape, and farewell till we meet again.--(_They are going out
+severally_)
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ sir Willoughby, _at opposite sides._
+
+_Charles._ Zounds! my father!
+
+_Helen._ Gad-a-mercy! my papa!
+
+_Sir R._ So, sir! you are here again I find!
+
+_Sir W._ So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant.
+
+_Sir R._ I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy's
+conduct does not meet with my sanction.
+
+_Char._ No! sir Willoughby--I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets
+with my father's sanction.
+
+_Sir W._ Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we _do_
+like, and certain things that we do _not_ like--now sir, to cut the
+matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either
+your son or your nephew for her husband.
+
+_Sir R._ This is a very sudden _change_, sir Willoughby--
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to
+day!--I've changed my resolution--I feel changed myself--for I've
+changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my
+son-in-law.
+
+_Sir R._ Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the
+last of these changes.
+
+_Sir W._ Sir, if you'll meet me presently at your attorney's, the thing
+will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please--Charles, I
+believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow
+for a son-in-law--but I think it is rather too much to give twelve
+thousand a year for him--this way Miss Helen. [_Exit sir Willoughby and
+Helen._
+
+_Sir R._ This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more
+exasperate him--I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is
+at hand; my own heart is witness against me--Heaven is my judge, and I
+have deserved my punishment! [_Exit sir R._
+
+_Char._ So! I'm much mistaken, or there'll be a glorious bustle
+presently at the old lawyer's--He has sent to beg I'll attend, and as my
+heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I'll e'en see what's going
+forward in _that_--whether his intention be to _expose_ or to _abet_ a
+villain, still I'll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to
+feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted
+virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares
+to lift his unblushing head on the other. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_O'Dedimus's Office._
+
+    _Enter_ O'Dedimus _and_ Ponder.
+
+_O'Ded._ You've done the business, you say!
+
+_Pon._ Ay, and the parties will all be here presently.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it! you're sure you haven't blabbed now?
+
+_Pon._ Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for?
+
+_O'Ded._ What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that
+will never be choked by politeness.
+
+_Pon._ Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for
+though they say "honesty's the best policy" a lawyer generally finds his
+purpose better answered by a _Policy of Assurance_.
+
+_O'Ded._ But hark! somebody's coming already, step where I told you, and
+make haste.
+
+_Pon._ On this occasion I lay by the lawyer and take up the Christian.
+Benevolence runs fast--but law is lazy and moves slowly. [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner _as_ Abel Grouse.
+
+_Abel Grouse._ I have obeyed your summons. What have you to say in
+palliation of the injury you have done me?
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith and I shall say a small matter about it. What I have done
+I have performed, and what I have performed I shall justify.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Indeed! Can you justify fraud and villany? To business, sir;
+wherefore am I summoned here?
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it! Upon my conscience I'm too modest to tell you.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Nature and education have made you modest: you were born an
+Irishman and bred in attorney--
+
+_O'Ded._ And take my word for it, when Nature forms an Irishman, if she
+makes some little blunder in the contrivance of his head, it is because
+she bestows so much pains on the construction of his heart.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ That may be partially true; but to hear _you_ profess
+sentiments of feeling and justice reminds me of our advertising
+money-lenders who, while they practise usury and extortion on the world,
+assure them that "the strictest honor and liberality may be relied on;"
+and now, sir once more, your business with me.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sure, sir, I sent for you to ask one small bit of a favour.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ From me!
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, from you; and the favour is, that before you honor me with
+the appellation of scoundrel, villain, pettyfogger, and some other such
+little genteel epithets, you will be pleased to examine my title to such
+distinctions.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ From you, however, I have no hopes. You have denied your
+presence at the infamous and sacrilegious mockery of my daughter's
+marriage.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's a mistake, sir; I never did deny it.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Ha! you acknowledge it then!
+
+_O'Ded._ That's another mistake, sir; for I never did acknowledge it.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Fortunately my hopes rest on a surer basis than your honesty.
+Circumstances have placed in one of my hands the scales of Justice, and
+the other her sword for punishment.
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith, sir, though you may be a fit representative of the old
+blind gentlewoman called Justice, she showed little discernment when she
+pitched upon you, and overlooked Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at
+law. And now, sir, be pleased to step into that room, and wait a moment,
+while I transact a little business with one who is coming yonder.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ I came hither to obey you; for I have some suspicion of your
+intentions; and let us hope that one virtuous action, if you have
+courage to perform it, will serve as a sponge to all the roguery you
+have committed, either as an attorney or as a man. [_Exit to an inner
+room._
+
+_O'Ded._ That blunt little fellow has got a sharp tongue in his head.
+He's an odd compound, just like a great big roasted potato, all crusty
+and crabbed without, but mealy and soft-hearted within. He takes me to
+be half a rogue and all the rest of me a scoundrel--Och, by St. Patrick!
+I'll bother his brains presently.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland, lord Austencourt, _and_ Charles.
+
+_Lord A._ Further discussion, sir, is useless. If I am to be
+disappointed in this marriage, a still more strict attention to my own
+affairs is necessary.
+
+_Sir R._ I appeal fearlessly to this man, who has betrayed me, whether
+your interest was not my sole motive in the appropriation of your
+property.
+
+_Lord A._ That assertion, sir, I was prepared to hear, but will not
+listen to.
+
+_Sir R._ _Beware_, lord Austencourt, _beware_ how you _proceed_!
+
+_Lord A._ Do you again threaten me? (_to O'Dedimus_) are my orders
+obeyed? is every thing in readiness?
+
+_O'Ded._ The officers are in waiting!
+
+_Charles._ Hold, monster! Proceed at your peril. To me you shall answer
+this atrocious conduct.
+
+_Lord A._ To you!
+
+_Charles._ Ay, sir, _to me_, if you have the courage of a man.
+
+_Lord A._ I will no longer support these insults. Call in the officers.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Willoughby, lady Worret, _and_ Helen.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! zounds! did you take me and my lady Worret for sheriff's
+officers, my lord?
+
+_Lord A._ I have one condition to propose--if that lady accepts my hand,
+I consent to stop the proceedings. That alone can alter my purpose.
+
+_Charles._ Inhuman torturer!
+
+_Helen._ Were my heart as free as air I never would consent to a union
+with such a monster!
+
+_Sir W._ And if _you_ would, curse me if _I_ would--nor my lady Worret
+either.
+
+_Sir R._ Let him fulful his purpose if he dare! I now see the black
+corruptness of his heart; and though my life were at stake I would pay
+the forfeit, rather than immolate innocence in the arms of such
+depravity.
+
+_Lord A._ Call in the officers, I say!
+
+_O'Ded_ (_without moving._) I shall do that thing.
+
+_Lord A._ 'Tis justice I demand! Justice and Revenge alike direct me,
+and their united voice shall be obeyed.
+
+_Falkner_ (_enters suddenly._) They shall! behold me here, thou
+miscreant, to urge it! justice and revenge you call for, and they shall
+both fall heavily upon you.
+
+_Sir. R._ Falkner!
+
+_O'Ded._ What! Abel Grouse, Mr. Falkner! here's a transmogrification for
+you!
+
+_Sir R._ How! Falkner and the unknown cottager the same person!
+
+_Falk._ Ay, sir; the man who cautioned you today in vain; who warned you
+of the precipice beneath your feet, and was unheeded by you--
+
+_Sir R._ Amazement! what would you have me do?
+
+_Falk._ Before this company assist me with the power you possess (and
+that power is ample) to compel your haughty nephew to repair the injury,
+which, in a humbler character, he has done me--
+
+_Lord A._ He compel me! ridiculous!
+
+_Falk._ (_to sir Rowland._) Insensible to injury and insult, can nothing
+move you? _Reveal your secret!_
+
+_Lord A._ I'll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved.
+
+_Sir R._ I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in
+descending must crush you.
+
+_Lord A._ I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of
+insolence and fraud? _What_ am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who
+am I?
+
+_Sir R._ No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and
+shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late
+lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own
+child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and
+blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring--_I changed the
+children._
+
+_Charles._ Merciful Heaven!
+
+_Sir R._ (_to lord A._) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster,
+are my son!
+
+_Sir W._ Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish
+me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret.
+
+_Lord A._ Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this
+preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it?
+
+_Falk._ Ay, sir; the law _will_ listen to it, _shall_ listen to it. _I_,
+sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity!
+
+_Lord A._ You!
+
+_Falk._ I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you
+see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany;
+and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor.
+
+_Lord A._ Then I am indeed undone!
+
+_O'Ded._ Shall I call the officers now, my lord? Mr. Austencourt, I
+should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen,
+be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just
+exactly what I _did not_ expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery
+of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though
+they haven't led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me
+to _wink_ at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now _certainly_
+lost Miss Helen, I hope he'll have no objection to do justice in another
+quarter. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to
+look upon you more?
+
+_Charles._ Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening
+prospects here (_taking Helen's hand_) to cherish any other feeling than
+forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge
+myself to oblivion of _all_ the past, except the acts of kindness I have
+received from you.
+
+_Sir W._ That's a noble generous young dog--My lady Worret, I wonder
+whether he'll offer to marry Helen now?
+
+_Lady W._ Of course, after what has passed, you'll think it decent to
+refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and
+your will shall in future be mine--
+
+_Sir W._ Shall it--that's kind--then I _will_ refuse him to please you:
+for when you're so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you.
+
+_Lady W._ (_aside._) Leave me alone to manage him still.
+
+    _Enter_ O'Dedimus, _introducing_ Fanny.
+
+_Lord A._ (_seeing Fanny._) Ah, traitor!
+
+_O'Ded._ Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you've
+neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt
+gentleman her father, 'tis time to spake out and to tell you that
+instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage
+as you bid me, _I_ have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul,
+by procuring a _real_ priest and a _real_ license, and by St. Patrick
+you are as much _one_ as any _two_ people in England, Ireland, or
+Scotland!
+
+_Fanny._ Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate!
+
+_Lord A._ (_after a conflict of passion._) And is this really so?
+
+_O'Ded._ You're _man_ and _wife_, sure enough. We've decent proof of
+this, too, sir.
+
+_Lord A._ You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. 'Tis
+the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my
+heart.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, my lord! my husband!
+
+_Falk._ Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful.
+
+_Lord A._ It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled
+education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted
+like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will
+my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt
+removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured
+Fanny.
+
+_Fanny._ Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness!
+My father!
+
+_Falk._ This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor.
+
+_Sir R._ Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of
+restitution.
+
+_Char._ My dear father--no--no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I
+look for.
+
+_Helen._ Ah, Charles--my lord, I mean, I beg pardon--to be sure papa,
+ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent.
+
+_Sir W._ Who, me? Not for the world--hey! mercy on us! I forgot your
+ladyship (_aside_) do you wish me to decline the honor?
+
+_Lady W._ (_aside._) Why no, as matters have turned out.
+
+_Char._ Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today!
+
+_Falk._ The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now
+illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us.
+
+_O'Ded._ And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all;
+for every body knows they're the happiest man and wife among us.
+
+_Helen._ And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace
+         The doubtful smile of joy in every face,
+         There _is_ a smile, which doubt and danger ends----
+         The smile of approbation from our friends.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies: Man and Wife
+
+  Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error,
+  or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling.
+  Where names in stage directions were inconsistently italicized, they
+  have been silently regularized. Some minor punctuation inconsistencies
+  have also been silently corrected.
+
+_Unchanged:_
+  barbacued  [barbecued]
+  befal  [befall]
+  fulful  [fulfil]
+  head ach  [head ache]
+  vixin  [vixen]
+
+_Corrections:_
+  Lady Worret  [twice spelt Worrett]
+  Abel Grouse's cottage [Grouses's]
+  The wrongs of Abel Grouse  [Growse]
+  and no biscuit aboard  [buiscuit]
+  as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours  [bigest, perhaps your's]
+  However I do not despair  [do no despair]
+  the attorney in our town  [at-attorney: mis-hyphenated at end of line]
+  housekeeper  [occurs with and without hyphenation]
+  Yes, sir, your presence does astonish me  [you presence]
+  when it lost you, its dearest only friend  [it's]
+  Hey! ods life, I must sooth her  [odslife]
+  Ods life! I'm in a furious passion!  [Odslife]
+  I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye, daughter  [karkye]
+  harkye, young woman  [karkye]
+  Heigho! with such an example before my eyes  [Heighho]
+  heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl  [heighho]
+  In Act III, Scene III is named Scene II in the original
+
+_Apostrophes:_
+  In the original, apostrophes are used or omitted inconsistently in
+  several words: a'nt, cant, dont, had'nt, hav'nt, havn't, is'nt,
+  musn't, shant and would'nt. These have all been regularized.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic
+Censor, by Samuel James Arnold
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR ***
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, by 
+Samuel James Arnold
+
+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. 2, February 1810
+
+Author: Samuel James Arnold
+
+Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter
+
+Release Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #26628]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, by
+Stephen Cullen Carpenter
+
+</pre>
+
+<div class="mynote">
+
+<p>Typographical errors are marked with <ins class="correction" title
+="like this">mouse-hover popups</ins>. Spellings were changed only when
+there was an unambiguous error, or the word occurred elsewhere with the
+expected spelling. In the Index and the play, some missing or incorrect
+punctuation marks, and inconsistent use of italics, were silently
+regularized. In addition, apostrophes were used or omitted inconsistently
+in several words: a&#8217;nt, cant, dont, had&#8217;nt, hav&#8217;nt, havn&#8217;t, is&#8217;nt,
+musn&#8217;t, shant and would&#8217;nt; these have all been regularized.</p>
+
+<!-- HTML note: The named entity lsquo has been used for the usual left
+                single quote character. However for the turned comma in
+                names such as M'Kenzie, the decimal version, #8216 has
+                been used to make it easier to change in the future. -->
+
+<p>
+<a class="internal" href="#the_mirror_of_taste">The Mirror Of Taste</a><br />
+<a class="internal" href="#dramatic_censor">Dramatic Censor</a><br />
+<a class="internal" href="#index">Index to Volume I</a><br />
+<a class="internal" href="#man_and_wife">Man and Wife</a>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="mirror">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109">109</a></span></p>
+
+<h1><a name="the_mirror_of_taste" id="the_mirror_of_taste"></a>THE MIRROR OF TASTE,</h1>
+
+<h6>AND</h6>
+
+<h2>DRAMATIC CENSOR.</h2>
+
+<table class="title" summary="title strip">
+<tr>
+<td>
+Vol. I.</td>
+<td class="center">FEBRUARY 1810.</td>
+<td class="right">No. 2.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h4><a name="history" id="history"></a>HISTORY OF THE STAGE.</h4>
+
+<h5>CHAPTER II.</h5>
+
+<p class="smallcaps">rise and progress of the drama in greece&mdash;origin of
+tragedy&mdash;thespis&mdash;&aelig;schylus, &ldquo;the father of the tragic art&rdquo;&mdash;his
+astonishing talents&mdash;his death.</p>
+
+<p><span class="firstword"><span class="firstletter">I</span>t</span> has been already remarked that at a very early period, considerably
+more than three thousand years ago, the Chinese and other nations in the
+east understood the rudiments of the dramatic art. In their crude,
+anomalous representations they introduced conjurers, slight of hand men
+and rope dancers, with dogs, birds,
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">monkies</ins>, snakes and even mice which
+were trained to dance, and in their dancing to perform evolutions
+descriptive of mathematical and astronomical figures. To this day the
+vestiges of those heterogeneous amusements are discernible all over
+Indostan: but that which will be regarded by many with surprise, is that
+in all countries pagan or christian the drama in its origin, with the
+dancings and spectacles attending it have been intermixed with divine
+worship. The Bramins danced before their god Vishnou, and still hold it
+as an article of faith that Vishnou had himself, &ldquo;in the olden time&rdquo;
+danced on the head of a huge serpent whose
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110">110</a></span>
+tail encompassed the world.
+That very dance which we call a minuet, has been proved by an ingenious
+Frenchman, to be the same dance originally performed by the priests in
+the temple of Apollo, and constructed by them, to be symbolical of the
+zodiac; every figure described by the heavenly bodies having a
+correspondent movement in the minuet: the diagonal line and the two
+parallels representing the zodiac generally, the twelve steps of which
+it is composed, representing the twelve signs, and the twelve months of
+the year, and the bow at the beginning and the end of it a profound
+obedience to the sun. About the year four hundred after the building of
+the city of Rome, the Romans, then smarting under great public calamity,
+in order to appease the anger of heaven, instituted theatrical
+performances, as feasts in honour of their gods. The first Spanish plays
+were founded, sometimes on the loves of shepherds, but much more
+frequently on points of theology, such as the birth of Christ, the
+passion, the temptation in the desert and the martyrdom of saints. The
+most celebrated dramatic poet of Portugal, Balthazar, wrote dramas which
+he called <span class="smallcaps">Autos</span> chiefly on pious subjects&mdash;and the prelate Trissino, the
+pope&#8217;s nuncio, wrote the first regular tragedy, while cardinal Bibiena
+is said to be the author of the first comedy known in Italy, after the
+barbarous ages. The French stage began with the representation of
+<span class="smallcaps"><ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">Mystries</ins></span>, by the priests, who acted sacred history on a stage, and
+personated divine characters. The first they performed was the history
+of the death of our Saviour, from which circumstance the company who
+acted, gave themselves the name of <span class="smallcaps">the confraternity of the passion</span>: and
+in England one single paper which remains on record, proves that the
+clergy were the first dramatists. This paper is a petition of the clerks
+or clergy of St. Paul&#8217;s to king Richard the Second, and dated in 1378
+which prayed his majesty to prohibit a company of <i>unexpert</i> people from
+representing the history of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of
+the said clergy, who had been at great charge and expense to represent
+the same at christmas.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111">111</a></span>
+It would be little to the purpose, to dwell longer on that part of the
+history of the drama, which lies back in the darkness of remote
+antiquity. Having shown that it did exist, in some shape or other, of
+which but very imperfect traces remain, and of course very inadequate
+notions can be collected, all further inquiry backward would be but the
+loss of so much time and trouble. The scope of human knowledge is
+extended at too heavy a price when the industry which might be more
+usefully applied, is exercised in hunting down origins into the
+obscurity of times so extremely distant. Where the greatest pains have
+been lavished on that sort of research, little knowledge has been
+gained; and the most diligent inquirers have been compelled either to
+confess that they were baffled, or rather than own their disappointment,
+to substitute fable for fact, and pass the fictions of imagination for
+historical truths.</p>
+
+<p>It is in the records of Greece the dramatic art first presents itself in
+the consistent shape and with the circumstantial detail of authentic
+history. There, plays were first moulded into regular form, and divided
+into acts. Yet the people of that country knew so little of its having
+previously existed in any shape, in any other country, that the
+different states contested with each other, the honour of having
+invented it; each asserting its claim with a warmth that demonstrates
+the high sense they entertained of its importance: and surely what such
+a people highly valued is entitled to the respect of all other nations.
+Of the drama, therefore, it might perhaps be enough to say that it was
+nursed in the same cradle with Eloquence, Philosophy, and Freedom, and
+that it was so favourite a child of their common parents, that they
+contended, each for an exclusive right to it. The credit of having first
+given simplicity, rational form, and consequent interest to theatrical
+representations has, by the universal concurrence of the learned, been
+awarded to Attica, whose genius and munificence erected to the drama
+that vast monument the temple of Bacchus, the ruins of which are yet
+discernible and admired by all travellers of taste and erudition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112">112</a></span>
+The origin of tragedy is a subject of curious contemplation. A rich
+planter of Attica, finding, one day, a goat devouring his grapes, killed
+it, and invited the peasantry to come and feast upon it. He gave them
+abundance of wine to drink, intoxicated with which they daubed their
+faces with the lees, ornamented their heads with chaplets made of the
+vine branches, and then danced, singing songs in chorus to Bacchus all
+the while round the animal destined for their banquet. A feast so very
+agreeable was not likely to go unrepeated; and it was soon reduced to a
+custom which was pretty generally observed in Attica, during the
+vintage. On those occasions the peasants, absolved from all reserve by
+intoxication, gave a loose to their animosities against the opulent, and
+in token of defiance of their supposed oppressors, went in bodies to
+their houses, and in set terms of abuse and sarcasm, called aloud for
+redress of their grievances. The novelty of the exhibition drew a
+multitude round them who enjoyed it as a new species of entertainment.
+Far from preventing it, the magistrates authorized the proceeding in
+order that it might serve as an admonition to the rich; taking special
+care, however, that no positive violence should be resorted to, and thus
+making it a wholesome preventive of public disorder. To this yearly
+festival which was called &ldquo;the feast of the goat&rdquo; the people of all
+parts were invited; and as this extraordinary spectacle was performed in
+a field near the temple of Bacchus, it was gradually introduced into the
+worship of that god. Hymns to the deity were sung both by priests and
+people in chorus while the goat was sacrificing, and to these hymns the
+name was given of <i>Tragodia</i> (tragedy) or &ldquo;the song of the goat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>During these exhibitions the vintagers, intoxicated with wine and joy,
+revenged themselves not only on the rich by publishing and satirizing
+their injustice, but on each other with ridicule and sarcasm. In their
+other religious festivals also, choruses of fauns and bacchants
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">chaunted</ins>
+songs and held up individuals to public ridicule. From such an humble
+germe has sprung up an art which in all parts of the world has, for
+centuries, administered to the advancement of poetry and elegant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113">113</a></span>
+literature, and to the delight and improvement of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>To these performances succeeded pieces composed by men of poetical
+talents, in some of which the adventures of the gods were celebrated and
+in others the vices and absurdities of individuals were attacked with
+much asperity. The works of all those poets probably died with them; nor
+is there any reason to believe that the loss of them is to be
+regretted&mdash;they are mentioned here only because they form a link in the
+chain of this history. By them, such as they were, however, the
+influence of the drama was established so far that it was soon found
+necessary to regulate it by law; the players who entered into
+competition at the Pythian games being enjoined to represent
+successively the circumstances that had preceded, accompanied and
+followed the victory of Apollo over Python. Some years after this, came
+Susarion of Megara, the first inventor of comedy who appeared at the
+head of a company of actors attacking the vices of his time. This was
+562 years before Christ, and in twenty-six years after, that is 536
+before Christ, appeared Thespis.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Thespis</span> has the credit of being the first inventor of regular tragedy.
+Disgusted with the nonsensical trash exhibited on the subject of
+Bacchus, and indignant, or pretending to be so, at the insult offered by
+such representations to that deity, he wrote pieces of a new kind, in
+which he introduced recitation, leaving Bacchus entirely out, lashing
+the vices and follies of the times, and making use, for the first time,
+of fiction. Though his representations were very rustic and imperfect
+they still make the first great era in the history of the tragic art:
+and they must be allowed to have made no slight impression upon the
+public mind, when it is remembered that they called forth the opposition
+of <span class="smallcaps">Solon</span>, the great lawgiver of Athens; who, on seeing the
+representations of Thespis, sternly observed, that if falsehood and
+fiction were tolerated on the stage they would soon find their way into
+every part of the republic. To this Thespis answered, that the fiction
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114">114</a></span>
+could not be harmful which every one knew to be fiction; that being
+avowed and understood, it lost its vicious character, and that if
+Solon&#8217;s argument were true, the works of Homer deserved to be burned.
+Solon, however, exercised his authority upon the occasion, and
+interdicted Thespis not only from writing but from teaching the art of
+composing tragedies at Athens. Whether Thespis was supported by the
+people in contradiction to Solon, or whether he contrived to follow his
+business in some other part of Attica, out of the jurisdiction of that
+great man, is not known; but he certainly disregarded the interdict, and
+not only wrote tragedies, but instructed others in their composition.
+For Phrynicus, the tragic poet of Athens, (the first who introduced a
+female character on the stage) was his disciple.</p>
+
+<p>In less than half a century after Thespis had, by his ingenuity, so
+improved the dramatic art as to form an era in its history, arose the
+illustrious personage, whose further improvements and astonishing
+poetical talents justly obtained for him the high distinction of &ldquo;The
+Father of Tragedy.&rdquo; &AElig;schylus, in common with all the natives of Attica,
+was bred to arms. The same genius which, applied to poetry, placed him
+at the head of tragic writers, raised him in the field to a high rank
+among the greatest captains of antiquity. At the celebrated battles of
+Marathon, Salamis and Plat&aelig;a he distinguished himself in a manner that
+would have rendered his name forever illustrious as a warrior, if the
+splendor of his martial fame were not lost in the blaze of his poetical
+glories. Descended from some of the highest Athenian blood, he was early
+placed under Pythagoras to learn philosophy, and at the age of
+twenty-one was a candidate for the prize in poetry. Thus illustrious as
+a philosopher, a warrior and a poet, it is no wonder that he was held in
+the highest respect and consideration by his countrymen. He wrote
+sixty-six, or, as some say, ninety tragedies, forty of which were
+rewarded with the public prize. Of all these, seven only have escaped
+the ravages of time, and descended to us perfect.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115">115</a></span>
+Thespis, who had gone before him, still left the Grecian stage in a
+state of great rudeness and imperfection, and, what was worse, in a
+condition of low buffoonery. Before Thespis tragedy consisted of no more
+than one person, who sung songs in honour of Bacchus. Thespis introduced
+a second performer; such was the state of the Grecian stage when
+&AElig;schylus arose, and made an illustrious epoch in the history of the
+drama. Before him the chorus was the principal part of the performance;
+but he reduced it to the state of an assistant, which was introduced
+between the acts to heighten the effect by recitation or singing, and by
+explaining the subject in its progression. He introduced another actor,
+which made his dramatis person&aelig; three. He divided his pieces into acts,
+and laid the foundation of those principles of dramatic poesy upon which
+Aristotle afterwards built his rules. Thespis and his successors before
+&AElig;schylus, acted from a cart in the streets: neither his actors nor
+himself were distinguished by any more than their ordinary dress.
+&AElig;schylus built a theatre, embellished it with appropriate scenery,
+machinery, and decorations, and clothed his actors with dresses suitable
+to their several characters. This would have been effecting much if he
+had done nothing more; but to the theatre which he erected, he added
+plays worthy of being represented with the splendor of such
+preparations. Abandoning the monstrous extravagancies and uncouth
+buffoonery of his predecessors, he took Homer for his guide, and
+composed pieces which for boldness and terrible sublimity have never
+been surpassed. His fiery imagination, when once on the wing, soared
+beyond the reach of earth, and seemed to spurn probability, and to
+delight in gigantic images and tremendous prodigies. No poet ever had
+such talents for inspiring terror. When his tragedy of <span class="smallcaps">Eumenides</span> was
+represented, many children died through fear, and several pregnant women
+actually miscarried in the house, and it is related of him that nothing
+could surpass the terrible ferocity of his countenance while, under the
+inspiration of his sublime Muse, he composed his tragedies.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116">116</a></span>
+The mind of this very extraordinary man was comprehensive, energetic,
+vigorous, and fiery: of him may with equal truth be said what doctor
+Johnson has said of our Shakspeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Existence saw him spurn her wide domain.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>For his imagination, daring, wild, and disorderly, resorted to the
+agency of preternatural beings, and in one of his plays called up the
+dead, with a degree of skill which Shakspeare only has surpassed, and
+none but Shakspeare could at all equal. He selected his subjects from
+the highest regions of sublimity, and his morals, always excellent, are
+enforced by the most dreadful examples of divine vengeance. To sum up
+his character in a few words&mdash;Longinus, the prince of Critias, says of
+him that he had a noble boldness of expression, with an imagination
+lofty and heroic, and his claim to the sublime has never been contested.
+At the same time it must be owned that his style is, at least to modern
+readers, obscure, and that his works are considered the most difficult
+of all the Greek classics. The improvements he made in the drama seemed
+to his <ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">cotemporaries</ins>
+to bespeak an intelligence more than human;
+wherefore, to account for his
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wonderous</ins>
+works, they had recourse to
+fable, and related that the god Bacchus revealed himself to him
+personally, as he lay asleep under the shade of a vine, commanded him to
+write tragedy, and inspired him with the means. This story is very
+gravely told by the historian Pausanias.</p>
+
+<p>There is little doubt that &AElig;schylus felt a gratification in putting down
+the monstrous rhapsodies to Bacchus and the other deities, with which
+the idolatrous priests of that day blindfolded and deceived the people;
+his plays having frequent cuts upon the gross superstition which then
+darkened the heathen world. For some expressions which were deemed
+impious he was condemned to die. Indeed christian scholars particularly
+mark a passage in one of his tragedies in which he palpably predicts,
+the downfall of Jupiter&#8217;s authority, as if he had foreseen the
+dispersion of heathenism. The multitude
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117">117</a></span>
+were accordingly going to stone
+him to death when they were won over to mercy by the remonstrances and
+intreaties of his brother Amynias who had commanded a squadron of ships
+at the glorious battle of Salamis, and was regarded as one of the
+principal saviours of his country. This brave man reminded the people
+what they owed to his brother &AElig;schylus for his valour at Marathon and at
+Plat&aelig;a, and then of what they owed himself for his conduct at Salamis,
+in which bloody but glorious battle he had been chiefly supported by
+that brother whom they were now ungratefully going to put to
+death:&mdash;having said this, he threw aside his cloak and exposing his arm
+from which the hand had been cut off, &ldquo;Behold,&rdquo; he cried&mdash;&ldquo;behold this,
+and let it speak for my brother and myself!&rdquo; The multitude relented, and
+were all at once clamorous in their applause and benediction of the two
+brothers. The highminded &AElig;schylus however was so incensed at the
+ingratitude of the mob and the slight they put upon him, that he retired
+into Sicily where he lost his life by a most singular accident. Having
+wandered into the fields, an eagle which had mounted into the air with a
+tortoise, for the purpose of dropping it upon a rock in order to break
+the shell, mistaking the bald head of &AElig;schylus for a stone, let the
+animal fall upon it, and killed him on the spot. The Athenians gave him
+the honour of a pompous public funeral with orations, and all that could
+denote their respect for the hero, the philosopher, the poet, and the
+father of the tragic art&mdash;and succeeding tragedians made it a ceremony
+to perform plays at his tomb.</p>
+
+<p>To complete the glories of this wonderful man, the ruins of the theatre
+he planned and erected, furnished the Romans with the model, upon which
+they afterwards raised those magnificent edifices which still are the
+objects of admiration and delight with the world, and of imitation with
+the scientific professors of architecture.</p>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118">118</a></span></p>
+<h4><a name="biography" id="biography"></a>BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MRS. WARREN.
+</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Mrs. Ann Warren</span>, whose name has, for some years, stood so high in
+theatrical annals, was the daughter of Mr. John Brunton, who as an actor
+and a manager, maintained a respectable rank in Great Britain, while he
+remained upon the stage; and all his life has been considered a man of
+great worth, and an estimable gentleman. Having received a good
+classical education under the tuition of the reverend Mr. Wilton,
+prebendary of Bristol, Mr. Brunton was bound apprentice to a wholesale
+grocer in Norwich, and when his time was out, married a Miss Friend, the
+daughter of a respectable merchant of that city, soon after which he
+went to London, and entered into business, as a tea-dealer and grocer in
+Drury-Lane. Here he became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Younger, who was
+at the time prompter at Covent Garden theatre, and though no actor
+himself, knew stage business as well as any man in England. Mr. Younger,
+discerning in Mr. Brunton good talents for an actor, advised him to try
+the experiment, and gave him such strong assurances of success, that he
+agreed to make the attempt and actually made his first appearance in the
+character of Cyrus for his friendly adviser&#8217;s benefit, sometime in the
+year 1774. His reception in this character was so very encouraging that
+he again came forward before the end of the season, and played the
+character of Hamlet for the benefit of Mr. Kniveton. So completely did
+the event justify Mr. Younger&#8217;s opinion, and evince his discernment that
+Mr. Brunton soon found it his interest to abandon commerce, and take
+entirely to the stage. At this time his eldest daughter, the subject of
+the present memoir, was little more than five years of age. Having
+settled his affairs in London, and sold off his stock in trade, Mr.
+Brunton returned to the city of Norwich in which he got an engagement,
+and met all the encouragement, he could hope for, being considered the
+best actor that had ever appeared on that stage. From this he was
+invited to Bath and Bristol, where he continued to perform for five
+years, and at the end of that time returned
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119">119</a></span>
+to the Norwich theatre of
+which he became manager. Mr. B.&#8217;s family had now become very numerous;
+he had six children,&mdash;a charge which in England would be thought to lean
+too heavy upon a very large estate&mdash;and yet with nothing more than the
+income which he derived from his professional industry, did this
+exemplary father tenderly rear and genteelly educate that family.</p>
+
+<p>From the circumstances of her <ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;farther&#8217;s&rsquo;">father&#8217;s</ins> situation, and from her early
+accomplishments and success as an actress, it will be imagined by many,
+that Miss Brunton was early initiated in stage business; that she had
+seen every play acted, and had studied and imitated the many great
+models of her time, the Barrys, the Bellamys, the Yeates, and the
+Siddonses; that under a father so well qualified to instruct her, her
+talents were brought forth in the very bud, by constant exercise, and
+that while yet a child she had learned to personate the heroine. What
+then will the reader&#8217;s surprise be, when he is informed that she had
+seen very few plays; perhaps fewer than the general run of citizens&#8217;
+daughters&mdash;and that the stage was never even for an instant contemplated
+as a profession for her till a very short time before her actual
+appearance in public. The fact is, that Mr. Brunton&#8217;s conduct through
+life was distinguished no less by prudence and discretion, than by a
+lofty regard to the honourable estimation of his family. While he
+himself drudged upon the stage and faced the public eye, his family,
+more dear to him, lived in the repose of retired life, and instead of
+fluttering round the scenes of gayety and dissipation, or haunting the
+theatre before or behind the curtain, Mrs. Brunton trained her children
+to domestic habits, and contented herself with qualifying her daughters
+to be like herself, good wives and mothers. Not in the city but in the
+country near Bath did Mr. Brunton live in an elegant cottage, where his
+little world inhaled the pure air of heaven, and grew up in
+innocence&mdash;Mrs. Brunton herself being their preceptress. Nothing was
+farther from his thoughts than that any of his daughters possessed
+requisites for the stage; they were all very young, even the eldest, our
+heroine, had but turned past
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120">120</a></span>
+fifteen, and, exclusive of her youth, had
+a lowness of stature and an exility of person, than which nothing could
+be farther from suggesting ideas of the heroine, or of tragic
+importance, when one day, by desire of her mother, she recited some
+select passages in her father&#8217;s presence. He listened with mixed
+emotions of astonishment and delight&mdash;a new train of thought shot across
+his mind; he put her over and over again to the trial, and at every
+repetition had additional motives to admire and to rejoice. Then, for
+the first time, was he aware of the mine which lay concealed in his
+family under modesty and reserve, and then, for the first time, he
+resolved that she should try her fate upon the stage, his fond heart
+prognosticating that <i>his</i> darling would, ere long, be the darling of
+the people. That she should possess such an affluence of endowment,
+without letting it earlier burst upon her father&#8217;s sight, is evidence of
+a share of modesty and diffidence as rare as lovely, and well worthy
+imitation, if under the present <i>regime</i> the imitation of such virtues
+were practicable.</p>
+
+<p>As this circumstance exhibits our heroine&#8217;s private character in a most
+exalted and amiable view, so it demonstrates the native powers of her
+genius. Let it only be considered!&mdash;while she yet fell, by two months,
+short of sixteen years of age, or in other words while she had yet
+scarcely advanced a step from the date of childhood, without any
+previous stage practice, without the advantage of studying, in the
+performances of other actresses, what to do, or what to avoid, she comes
+forward, for the first time, in one of the most arduous characters in
+tragedy, and at one flight mounts to the first rank in her profession.
+It is a circumstance unexampled in the records of the stage, and would
+be incredible if not too universally known to be doubted.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brunton immediately on discovering the treasure he possessed,
+resolved to bring it forth to public view. The time was nearly at hand
+when he was to take his benefit, and he judiciously thought that there
+could not be a more happy way of introducing her with advantage than in
+the pious office of aiding him on that occasion&mdash;nor can the most lively
+imagination,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121">121</a></span>
+conceive an object more interesting than a creature so
+young, so lovely, and so much wiser than her years standing forward to
+encounter the hazards and the terrors of that most trying situation in
+cheerful obedience to a father&#8217;s will, and for a father&#8217;s benefit. The
+selection of the character of Euphrasia for her, while he played the
+aged father, Evander, who is supposed to be sustained by the nourishment
+given from his daughter&#8217;s bosom, was judicious, as it formed a
+coincidence of fact and fiction, which if it had been only moderately
+supported by her performance, could scarcely fail to excite in every
+bosom, in the house, the most lively and interesting sensations. Nothing
+that paternal affection, and good sense could dictate were wanting on
+the part of Mr. Brunton. Of the short time he had for instructing her,
+no part was lost. The appearance of Mr. Brunton&#8217;s daughter in Euphrasia,
+with a prologue written for the occasion, was announced, and
+notwithstanding there were not wanting wretches mean and miserable
+enough to trumpet abroad her youth and smallness of stature, as
+insurmountable obstacles to her personating the Grecian daughter, more
+just ideas of her, or perhaps curiosity brought a full house. Mr.
+Brunton himself spoke the prologue, which was written for him by the
+ingenious Mr. Meyler, and was as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="stanza">Sweet Hope! for whom his anxious parent burns,</p>
+<p>Lo! from his tour the travelled heir returns,</p>
+<p>With each accomplishment that Europe knows,</p>
+<p>With all that Learning on her son bestows;</p>
+<p>With Roman wit and Grecian wisdom fraught,</p>
+<p>His mind has every letter&#8217;d art been taught.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Now the fond father thinks his son of age,</p>
+<p>To take an active part in life&#8217;s vast stage;</p>
+<p>And Britain&#8217;s senate opes a ready door,</p>
+<p>To fill the seat his sire had fill&#8217;d before,</p>
+<p>There when some question of great moment springs,</p>
+<p>He&#8217;ll rise&mdash;then &ldquo;hear him, hear him,&rdquo; loudly
+rings<ins class="correction" title="comma unclear in text">,</ins></p>
+<p>He speaks&mdash;th&#8217; enraptur&#8217;d list&#8217;ning through admire</p>
+<p>His voice, his argument, his genius&#8217; fire!</p>
+<p>The fond old man, in pure ecstatic joy,</p>
+<p>Blesses the gods that gave him such a boy!</p>
+<p>But if insipid Dulness guide his tongue,</p>
+<p>With what sharp pangs his aged heart is wrung&mdash;</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122">122</a></span>
+<p>Despair, and shame, and sorrow make him rue</p>
+<p>The hour he brought him to the public view.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">And now what fears! what doubt, what joys I feel!</p>
+<p>When my first hope attempts her first appeal,</p>
+<p>Attempts an arduous task&mdash;Euphrasia&#8217;s
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wo</ins>&mdash;</p>
+<p>Her parent&#8217;s nurse&mdash;or deals the deadly blow!</p>
+<p>Some sparks of genius&mdash;if I right presage,</p>
+<p>You&#8217;ll find in this young novice of the stage:</p>
+<p>Else had not I for all this earth affords</p>
+<p>Led her thus early on these dangerous boards.</p>
+<p>If your applause gives sanction to my aim,</p>
+<p>And this night&#8217;s effort promise future fame,</p>
+<p>She shall proceed&mdash;but if some bar you find,</p>
+<p>And that my fondness made my judgment blind,</p>
+<p>Discern no voice, no feeling she possess,</p>
+<p>Nor fire that can the passions well express;</p>
+<p>Then, then forever, shall she quit this scene,</p>
+<p>Be the plain housewife, not the tragic queen.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Such an appeal, delivered with all the powers of an excellent speaker,
+and enforced by the genuine and unfeigned feelings of a father&#8217;s heart,
+told home&mdash;peals of applause gave assurance that her entrance was
+strewed with flowers, and that at least, her reception, would correspond
+with his fondest wishes.</p>
+
+<p>The accounts that have been given by spectators of the events of that
+night are extremely interesting. Many, no doubt, went there with a
+prepossession, raised by the unfavourable reports of her personal
+appearance; and if lofty stature were indispensibly necessary to a
+heroine, no external appearance could be much less calculated to
+personify a Thalestris than Miss Brunton&#8217;s&mdash;but the mighty mind soon
+made itself to be felt, and every idea of personal dimensions vanished.
+&ldquo;The audience (says a British author) expected to see a mawkin, but saw
+a Cibber&mdash;the applause was proportionate to the surprise: every mouth
+emitted her praise, and she performed several parts in Bath and Bristol,
+a phenomenon in the theatrical hemisphere.&rdquo; Though the trepidation
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;inseperable&rsquo;">inseparable</ins>
+from such an effort diminished her powers at first, the
+sweetness of her voice struck every ear like a charm: the applause that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123">123</a></span>
+followed invigorated her spirits so far that in the reciprocation of a
+speech or two more, her fine clear articulation struck the audience with
+surprise, and when, more assured by their loud approbation, she came to
+the speech:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Melanthon, how I loved, the gods who saw</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;Eech&rsquo;">Each</ins>
+secret image that my fancy formed,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The gods can witness how I loved my Phocion,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet I went not with him. Could I do it?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Could I desert my father?&mdash;Could I leave</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The venerable man, who gave me being,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To watch his fate, to visit his affliction,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of filial virtue bid each bondage smile.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>she seemed to pour forth her whole heart and soul in the words, and
+emitted such a blaze as filled the house with rapture and astonishment.
+In a word, no actress at the highest acm&eacute; of popularity ever received
+greater applause. Next day her performance was the topic of every circle
+in Bath. Horatia in the Roman Father, and Palmyra in Mahomet, augmented
+her reputation, and in less than a month the fame of this prodigy, for
+such she appeared to be, had reached every town and city of Great
+Britain and Ireland.</p>
+
+<p>It was natural to imagine that such extraordinary powers would not be
+long suffered to waste themselves upon the limited society of country
+towns. Mr. Harris, as soon as he received intelligence on which he could
+depend, upon the subject of Miss Brunton&#8217;s talents, resolved to be
+himself an eye-witness of her performance, and set off to Bath with a
+view, if his judgment should concur with that of the public of that
+city, to offer her an engagement at Covent Garden. To see her was to
+decide; he resolved to have her if possible, and lost no time to make
+such overtures at once as could not well be refused. These included an
+engagement at a very handsome salary for her father; her own of course
+was liberal&mdash;when one considers how long Mrs. Siddons had appeared upon
+the stage before she got a firm footing on the London boards, one cannot
+but be astonished at the rise of this lady at one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124">124</a></span>
+leap from the
+threshold to the top of her profession. It is worthy of observation that
+the real children of nature generally burst at once upon the view in
+excellence approaching to perfection; while the mere artists of the
+stage lag behind, labouring for years, before they attain the summit of
+their ambition; when their consummate art and their skill in concealing
+that art (ars celare artem) if they have it, entitles them at last to
+the highest praise. Mrs. Bellamy was one of those children of nature.
+Before she appeared, Quin
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;decidely&rsquo;">decidedly</ins>
+gave judgment against her: yet the
+first night she performed he was so struck with her excellence, that,
+impatient to wipe away his injustice by a candid confession he
+emphatically exclaimed, &ldquo;My child, the spirit is in thee.&rdquo; Garrick it is
+said never surpassed his first night&#8217;s performance: and the Othello of
+Barry&#8217;s first appearance, and the Zanga of Mossop&#8217;s never were equalled
+by any other actors, nor were ever surpassed even by themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the impression made by this phenomenon, even before she left
+the country for London, that the presses teemed with tributes to her
+extraordinary merit, in verse and prose. Learning poured forth it praise
+in deep and erudite criticism&mdash;Poetry lavished its sparkling encomium in
+sonnets, songs, odes, and congratulatory addresses, while the light
+retainers to literature filled the magazines and daily prints with
+anecdotes, paragraphs, bon-mots, and epigrams. In a word, there was for
+sometime no reading a newspaper, or opening a periodical publication
+without seeing some production or other addressed to Miss Brunton. From
+the number which appeared the following is deservedly selected, for the
+elegance of its Latin and the beauty of its thoughts:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h6>AD BRUNTONAM.<br />
+<span class="smallcaps">e granta exituram.</span></h6>
+
+<p class="stanza indent">Nostri pr&aelig;sidium et decus thartri;</p>
+<p>O tu, Melpomene severioris</p>
+<p>Certe filia! quam decere form&aelig;</p>
+<p>Donavit Cytherea; quam Minerva</p>
+<p>Duxit per dubi&aelig; vias juvent&aelig;,</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125">125</a></span>
+<p>Per plausus populi periculosus;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Nec lapsam&mdash;precor, O nec in futuram</p>
+<p>Lapsuram. Satis at Cam&oelig;na dignis</p>
+<p>Qu&aelig; te commemoret modis? Acerbos</p>
+<p>Seu pr&aelig;ferre Monimi&aelig; dolores,</p>
+<p>Frater cum vetitos (nefas!) ruebat</p>
+<p>In fratris thalamos, parumque casto</p>
+<p>Vexabat pede; sive Juliet&aelig;</p>
+<p>Luctantes odio paterno amores</p>
+<p>Maris: te sequuntur Horror,</p>
+<p>Arrectusque comas Pavor. Vicissim</p>
+<p>In fletum populus jubetur ire,</p>
+<p>Et suspiria personant theatrum.</p>
+
+<p class="stanza indent">Mox divinior enitescis, altrix</p>
+<p>Altoris vigil et parens parentis.</p>
+<p>At non Gr&aelig;cia sola vindicavit</p>
+<p>Patern&aelig; columen decusque vit&aelig;</p>
+<p>Natam; restat item patri Britanno</p>
+<p>Et par Euphrasi&aelig; puella, quamque</p>
+<p>Ad scenam pietas tulit paternam.</p>
+
+<p class="stanza indent">O Bruntona, cito exitura virgo,</p>
+<p>Et visu cito subtrahenda nostro,</p>
+<p>Breves delici&aelig;, dolorque longus!</p>
+<p>Gressum siste parumper oro; teque</p>
+<p>Virtutesque tuas lyra sonandas</p>
+<p>Tradit Granta suis vicissim almunis.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The following very elegant poem, published as a version of this ode, is
+rather a <ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;pharaphrase&rsquo;">paraphrase</ins>
+than a translation. What Gibbon said of Pope&#8217;s Homer
+may with some truth be applied to it: &ldquo;<i>It has every merit but that of
+resemblance to the original.</i>&rdquo; Might not a version equally elegant, but
+adhering more closely to the original, and preserving more of its
+peculiar genius be found in America. We wish some of our readers who
+feel the inspiration of a happy Muse would make the experiment.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="indent">Maid of unboastful charms, whom white-rob&#8217;d Truth,</p>
+<p>Right onward guiding through the maze of youth,</p>
+<p>Forbade the Circe, <span class="smallcaps">Praise</span>, to witch thy soul,</p>
+<p>And dash&#8217;d to earth th&#8217; intoxicating bowl;</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126">126</a></span>
+<p>Thee, meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair,</p>
+<p>Clasp&#8217;d to her bosom, with a mother&#8217;s care;</p>
+<p>And, as she lov&#8217;d thy kindred form to trace,</p>
+<p>The slow smile wander&#8217;d o&#8217;er her pallid face,</p>
+<p>For never yet did mortal voice impart</p>
+<p>Tones more congenial to the sadden&#8217;d heart;</p>
+<p>Whether to rouse the sympathetic glow,</p>
+<p>Thou pourest lone Monimia&#8217;s tale of
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wo</ins>;</p>
+<p>Or happy clothest, with funereal vest,</p>
+<p>The bridal loves that wept in Juliet&#8217;s breast.</p>
+<p>O&#8217;er our chill limbs the thrilling terrors creep,</p>
+<p>Th&#8217; entranc&#8217;d passions still their vigils keep;</p>
+<p>Whilst the deep sighs, responsive to the song,</p>
+<p>Sound through the silence of the trembling throng.</p>
+<p>But purer raptures lighten&#8217;d from thy face,</p>
+<p>And spread o&#8217;er all thy form a holier grace;</p>
+<p>When from the daughter&#8217;s breast the father drew</p>
+<p>The life he gave, and mix&#8217;d the big tear&#8217;s dew.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Nor was it thine th&#8217; heroic strain to roll,</p>
+<p>With mimic feelings, foreign from the soul;</p>
+<p>Bright in thy parent&#8217;s eye we mark&#8217;d the tear;</p>
+<p>Methought he said, &ldquo;Thou art no actress here!</p>
+<p>A semblance of thyself, the Grecian dame,</p>
+<p>And <i>Brunton</i> and <i>Euphrasia</i> still the same!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>O! soon to seek the city&#8217;s busier scene,</p>
+<p>Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene,</p>
+<p>Till Granta&#8217;s sons, from all her sacred bow&#8217;rs,</p>
+<p>With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flow&#8217;rs,</p>
+<p>To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow,</p>
+<p>Enchanting ministress of virtuous
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wo</ins>!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was on the 17th of October, 1785, that Miss Brunton made her first
+appearance at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Horatia. The
+public had anxiously looked for her, and the house was crowded to
+receive her. The venerable Arthur Murphy wrote a prologue for the
+occasion, in which he displayed his accustomed delicacy and judgment. It
+was as follows, and was well spoken by Mr. Holman:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="stanza">The tragic Muse long saw the British stage</p>
+<p>Melt with her tears, and kindle with her rage,</p>
+<p>She saw her scenes with varied passions glow,</p>
+<p>The tyrant&#8217;s downfall and the lover&#8217;s
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wo</ins>;</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127">127</a></span>
+<p>&#8217;Twas then her Garrick&mdash;at that well-known name</p>
+<p>Remembrance wakes, and gives him all his fame;</p>
+<p>To him great Nature open&#8217;d Shakspeare&#8217;s store,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here learn,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;here learn the sacred lore;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This fancy realiz&#8217;d, the bard shall see,</p>
+<p>And his best commentator breathe in thee.</p>
+<p>She spoke: her magic powers the actor tried;</p>
+<p>Then Hamlet moraliz&#8217;d and Richard died;</p>
+<p>The dagger gleam&#8217;d before the murderer&#8217;s eye,</p>
+<p>And for old Lear each bosom heav&#8217;d sigh;</p>
+<p>Then Romeo drew the sympathetic tear,</p>
+<p>With him and Cibber Love lay bleeding here.</p>
+<p>Enchanting Cibber! from that warbling throat</p>
+<p>No more pale Sorrow pours the liquid note.</p>
+<p>Her voice suppress&#8217;d, and Garrick&#8217;s genius fled,</p>
+<p>Melpomene declined her drooping head;</p>
+<p>She mourn&#8217;d their loss, then fled to western skies,</p>
+<p>And saw at Bath another genius rise.</p>
+<p>Old Drury&#8217;s scene the goddess bade her choose,</p>
+<p>The actress heard, and spake, &ldquo;herself a muse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>From the same nursery, this night appears</p>
+<p>Another warbler, yet of tender years;</p>
+<p>As a young bird, as yet unus&#8217;d to fly</p>
+<p>On wings, expanded, through the azure sky,</p>
+<p>With doubt and fear its first excursion tries</p>
+<p>And shivers ev&#8217;ry feather with surprise;</p>
+<p>So comes our chorister&mdash;the summer&#8217;s ray,</p>
+<p>Around her nest, call&#8217;d forth a short essay;</p>
+<p>Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees</p>
+<p>This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze.</p>
+<p>But here, no unfledg&#8217;d wing was ever crush&#8217;d;</p>
+<p>Be each rude blast within its cavern hush&#8217;d.</p>
+<p>Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way,</p>
+<p>Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day:</p>
+<p>She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice</p>
+<p>May please each ear and bid the grove rejoice.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It would be superfluous, and indeed only going over the same ground
+already beat at Bath, to describe Miss Brunton&#8217;s reception on her first
+appearance in London. Suffice it to say that plaudits and even
+exclamations of delight were, if possible, more rapturous and more
+incessant at Covent Garden than at Bath. Of the reputation thus quickly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128">128</a></span>
+acquired, she never, to the day of her death, lost an atom; but
+continued to perform, in different parts of England, with accumulating
+fame, till her marriage deprived the people of England of her talents.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robert Merry, a gentleman well known in the literary world, and
+rendered conspicuous by some pretty poetry published under the name of
+<i>Della Crusca</i>, had the honour of rendering himself so agreeable to Miss
+Brunton that she suffered him to lead her to the altar. He was of a
+gentleman&#8217;s family, and received his education under that mass of
+learning, doctor Parr, was a man of brilliant genius, amiable
+disposition, elegant manners, with a fine face and person. Being a <i>bon
+vivant</i> and a little addicted to play, as well as to other fashionable
+and wasteful frivolities of high life, his affairs were in a very
+unpleasant state, but for this there was an abundant remedy in his
+wife&#8217;s talents; and perhaps (with her aid) a little in his own too.
+Family pride, however, forbid it. He was much swayed by his relatives,
+particularly by two old maiden aunts, who were, or affected to be
+wounded at his marrying an actress. Nothing but his withdrawing his wife
+from the stage could assuage their wrath or heal the
+wound<ins class="correction" title="comma unclear in text">,</ins> and Mrs.
+Merry, in a spirit of obedience to her husband, and of amiable feeling
+for his situation, which will ever do honour to her memory, complied;
+and as soon as her engagement at Covent Garden expired (in 1792) left
+the stage, to the great regret, and a little to the indignant contempt
+for the old ladies, of the whole British nation.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Merry soon after paid a visit to the continent, where they
+lived for a little more than a year, when they returned to England, and
+settled in retired life in the country and there remained till the year
+1796, when they removed to America. Mr. Brunton, the father of Mrs.
+Merry, was, no less than the old ladies alluded to, and on much more
+substantial grounds, averse to her marriage with Mr. Merry, and still
+more to her coming to America. In obedience to a higher duty, however,
+she followed the fortunes of her husband, and with the most poignant
+regret left her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129">129</a></span>
+native country and her father, to sojourn in a strange
+land. On the 19th of September, 1796, they sailed from the Downs, and on
+the 19th of October following landed at New-York.</p>
+
+<p>Few country theatres in Great Britain have been able to boast of so good
+a company as that which assembled at Philadelphia on the season
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;whith&rsquo;">which</ins>
+succeeded Mrs. Merry&#8217;s arrival. The theatre opened on the fifth of
+December, with Romeo and Juliet, and the Waterman. The elegant and
+interesting Morton played Romeo&mdash;Mrs. Merry Juliet; all the characters
+had excellent representatives, and Mrs. Merry appeared to the audience a
+being of a superior kind. That winter she played all her best parts, but
+though supported by such a company it often happened that the receipts
+were insufficient to pay the charges of the house, and the season was,
+on the whole, extremely unsuccessful; a circumstance which at first view
+will excite surprise, but at the time might reasonably have been
+expected. This will be understood when the general financial condition
+of the city is called to recollection. Every one who has known the
+country but for a few years back must remember the almost general
+bankruptcy occasioned by the failure of land speculating men of opulence
+and high credit. During that time commerce in all its classes sensibly
+felt the shock, and business languished in all its branches. No wonder
+that the theatre, which can only be fed by the superflux of all other
+departments of society, should droop, neglected and unsupported. The
+prices then too were higher than now&mdash;the boxes a dollar and a
+quarter&mdash;the pit a dollar. And here we cannot help expressing a wish,
+founded we believe on justice and common sense, that admittance to the
+pit were raised:&mdash;first, because it is, at least, equal if not
+preferable to the boxes; and next because it would in some degree tend
+to exclude many who, though fit to sit only in the upper gallery, make
+their way into the pit to the great annoyance of those decent well
+behaved people who go to enjoy and understand the play, and not to
+blackguard and speak aloud.</p>
+
+<p>When the theatre was closed, according to civil regulation, the company,
+went to New-York. At that time Hallam
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130">130</a></span>
+and Hodgkinson had possession of
+both the theatres of that city&mdash;the old one in John-street, and the new
+one at the Park. The Philadelphia company, still bleeding from the
+wounds of the unsuccessful season, and urged by necessity for future
+support, applied to Hallam and Hodgkinson to rent them the theatre in
+John-street. Guided by a policy, rational enough and perhaps justifiable
+on principles of self-defence, though certain not very liberal, and in
+the end greatly injurious to themselves, the York proprietors
+peremptorily refused. The circus of Ricketts, the equestrian, in
+Greenwich-street then presented itself, and the Philadelphia company
+opened in full force. In order to oppose them, Hallam and Hodgkinson
+invited Mr. Sollee with his company to John-street. The Philadelphia
+company, however, made a very successful campaign of it. Sollee also had
+his visitors, and the consequence to H. and H. was that when they came
+to open the new house they played to thin or rather empty boxes; the
+town being saturated with theatrical exhibitions, and a little exhausted
+too of the cash disposable for such recreations.</p>
+
+<p>In New-York as well as Philadelphia, and indeed in every place where
+Mrs. M. went, she was no sooner seen than admired; and the impression
+she never failed to make at first sight remained, not only uneffaced but
+more deeply augmented in proportion as she was seen, even to the end of
+her life. She afterwards visited Baltimore and other places, and
+wherever she went, was the polar star to which the attention of all was
+directed.</p>
+
+<p>While she was proceeding in this career of success her felicity met with
+the most cruel interruption by the sudden death of her husband, which
+happened at Baltimore in the latter end of the year 1798. Mr. Merry had
+not laboured under any specific physical complaint from which his death
+could in the smallest degree be apprehended. On the day before christmas
+he was apparently well, had walked out into the garden, and was soon
+after followed by some friends who found him lying senseless on the
+ground. Medical aid was immediately called in&mdash;several attempts were
+made to draw blood from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131">131</a></span>
+him but without the least success; the
+physicians pronounced it an apoplectic case, and from every circumstance
+the conclusion was that his death was instantaneous and without pain.
+Mr. Merry was large and of a plethoric habit; and to that his death may,
+in some sort, and was then entirely ascribed. But circumstances appeared
+after his death which led to a conclusion that concealed sorrow, might
+have had some share in it. From refined motives of tenderness for a
+beloved wife&#8217;s feelings, and that loftiness of spirit which clings to
+the perfect gentleman, he concealed the state of his affairs in England,
+which had for some time been in a rapid decline, and of the complete
+ruin of which he had a short time before been fully informed. His
+patrimonial estate had been foreclosed and sold under a mortgage, and he
+remained debtor for a considerable sum after the sale. To this effect a
+letter was found after his death. As soon as this was discovered, every
+one who knew his exquisite sensibility, reflected with astonishment upon
+the delicacy which dictated and the fortitude with which he managed his
+concealment, and felt deep and sympathetic sorrow for the anguish he
+must have been privately enduring while he endeavoured to dress his face
+with tranquillity and to converse with his accustomed cheerfulness and
+ease. Smothered grief is one of the most deadly inmates; and it is
+reasonable to believe that a paroxysm of violent emotion in a moment
+when solitude gave an opportunity for giving a loose to reflection,
+operating upon a plethoric habit, occasioned his sudden dissolution.</p>
+
+<p>That Mr. Merry was a gentleman of great private worth we believe the
+evidence of all those to whom familiar intercourse had revealed his
+disposition; that he was learned and accomplished in a very eminent
+degree no one has ever denied; and that he was a man of genius, his
+&ldquo;Della Crusca,&rdquo; and the many witty and satirical epigrams he wrote for
+the public prints under the signature of &ldquo;Tom Thorne,&rdquo; abundantly prove.
+But the pen of state vengeance was raised against him, and his poetical
+fame was immolated as an expiation for his political offences. Attached
+to French revolutionary,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132">132</a></span>
+or, as they were then called, jacobin
+principles, to a degree which even Foxites censured, he was viewed with
+abhorrence by one party, and with no great regard by the other; so that
+when the witty author of the Pursuits of Literature drew his sword, and
+the sarcastic author of the Baviad and M&aelig;viad lifted his axe against him
+there was no one to ward off the blows. There is a fact respecting Mr.
+M. which, though it does not properly belong to this biographical
+sketch, yet as it is curious enough to apologize for its introduction,
+we take the liberty to relate. The celebrated Mrs. Cowley, under the
+name of &ldquo;Anna Matilda,&rdquo; and Mr. M. under that of &ldquo;Della Crusca,&rdquo;
+corresponded with and admired each other, without being known or even
+suspected by one another, or, for some time, by the public. These
+productions formed a new era or rather a new school of poetry, which
+excited such attention and curiosity that every art was resorted to in
+order to discover the authors. It was at length whispered abroad, and
+then what most surprised the world was, that the two persons were
+totally strangers to each other.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Merry remained a widow for more than four years: she then, on the
+first of January 1803, married Mr. Wignell, the manager of the
+Philadelphia theatre, who died in seven weeks after their marriage. For
+three years and a half she retained the name of Wignell, when the
+present manager solicited her hand so successfully that she consented,
+and took the name of Warren, on the 15th of August, 1806. By this
+marriage the property and management of the Philadelphia theatre
+devolved upon Mr. Warren; than whom, exclusive of the personal
+attachment that subsisted between them, she could not have pitched upon
+any one person more competent to the care of her property or the
+direction of the theatre; or one more worthy of the sacred trust of
+being a parent and a guardian to her infant daughter. For near two years
+they lived together in a state of ease and felicity which bid fair to
+last for years, when he being obliged to attend his company to their
+customary summer stations, Mrs. Warren, then in a far advanced state of
+pregnancy, desired
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133">133</a></span>
+to go along with him. Aware of the fatigue, the
+inconveniences, and the privations to which she would, in all
+likelihood, be exposed, during her journey southward, and still more in
+her <i>accouchement</i>, which must necessarily take place before his return,
+he endeavoured to prevail upon her to stay behind. But &ldquo;Fate came into
+the list,&rdquo; and she would go. Arrived at Alexandria, he took a large
+commodious house, and put it in a condition sufficiently comfortable;
+Mrs. Warren was in lusty health, and as the time approached all was fair
+and promising. By one of those turns, however, which it pleases
+Providence for his own wise purposes frequently to ordain, to mock our
+best hopes and baffle our most sanguine expectations, this admirable
+woman was, contrary to every antecedent prognostic, visited in her
+travail with epileptic fits, in which she expired, &ldquo;leaving,&rdquo; (as the
+sublime Burke no less truly than pathetically said on the death of
+doctor Johnson,) &ldquo;not only nothing to fill her place, but nothing that
+has a tendency to fill it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here, we let the curtain drop. Neither her private nor her public
+character can derive additional lustre from any pen.</p>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<h4><a name="portrait" id="portrait"></a>PORTRAIT OF THE CELEBRATED BETTERTON.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Mr. Thomas Betterton</span>, dramatist and actor, was born in Tothill-street,
+Westminster; and after having left school, is said to have been put
+apprentice to a bookseller. It is supposed he made his first appearance
+on the stage about the year 1657, at the opera house, which was then
+under the direction of sir William Davenant. He went over to Paris to
+take a view of the French scenery, and on his return,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134">134</a></span>
+made such
+improvements, as added greatly to the lustre of the English stage.</p>
+
+<p>The professional merits of this great man were of a kind so perfectly
+unequivocal and unalloyed that there never was heard one dissenting
+voice upon the subject of his superiority to all other actors. He stood
+so far above the highest of his profession that competition being
+hopeless there was no motive for envy.</p>
+
+<p>Of the few who lived to see him and Garrick, the far greater number gave
+him the palm, with the exception of Garrick&#8217;s excellence in low comedy.
+Indeed he seems to have combined in himself the various powers of the
+three greatest modern actors, of Garrick, except as before excepted, of
+Barry, and of Mossop; add to which, he played Falstaff as well as Quin.
+The present writer got this from old Macklin, who was stored with
+anecdotes of his predecessors.</p>
+
+<p>Of Betterton, Colley Cibber speaks thus, in his apology for his own
+life:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Betterton was an actor, as Shakspeare was an author, both without
+competitors! formed for the mutual assistance, and illustration of each
+other&#8217;s genius! how Shakspeare wrote, all men who have a taste for
+nature may read, and know&mdash;but with what higher rapture would he still
+be read, could they conceive how Betterton <i>played</i> him! Then might they
+know, the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write!
+pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from a harmonious
+elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! that the
+animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath
+and motion that presents them; or at best can but faintly glimmer
+through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving
+spectators. Could <i>how</i> Betterton spoke be as easily known as <i>what</i> he
+spoke, then might you see the Muse of Shakspeare in her triumph, with
+all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life, and
+charming her beholders. But alas! since all this is so far out of the
+reach of description, how shall I show you Betterton? Should I therefore
+tell you, that all the Othellos,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135">135</a></span>
+Hamlets, Hotspurs, Mackbeths, and
+Brutuses, whom you may have seen since his time, have fallen far short
+of him; this still would give you no idea of his particular excellence.
+Let us see then what a particular comparison may do! whether that may
+yet draw him nearer to you?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have seen a Hamlet perhaps, who, on the first appearance of his
+father&#8217;s spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining vociferation
+requisite to express rage and fury, and the house has thundered with
+applause; though the misguided actor was all the while (as Shakspeare
+terms it) tearing a passion into rags&mdash;I am the more bold to offer you
+this particular instance, because the late Mr. Addison, while I sate by
+him, to see this scene acted, made the same observation, asking me with
+some <ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">surprize</ins>,
+if I thought Hamlet should be in so violent a passion
+with the ghost, which though it might have astonished, it had not
+provoked him? for you may observe that in this beautiful speech, the
+passion never rises beyond an almost breathless astonishment, or an
+impatience, limited by filial reverence, to inquire into the suspected
+wrongs that may have raised him from his peaceful tomb! and a desire to
+know what a spirit so seemingly distressed, might wish or enjoin a
+sorrowful son to execute towards his future quiet in the grave! this was
+the light into which Betterton threw this scene; which he opened with a
+pause of mute amazement! then rising slowly, to a solemn, trembling
+voice, he made the ghost equally terrible to the spectator, as to
+himself! and in the descriptive part of the natural emotions which the
+ghastly vision gave him, the boldness of his expostulation was still
+governed by decency, manly, but not braving; his voice never rising into
+that seeming outrage, or wild defiance of what he naturally revered. But
+alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing, and meaning too little,
+to keep the attention more pleasingly awake, by a tempered spirit, than
+by mere vehemence of voice, is of all the master-strokes of an actor the
+most difficult to reach. In this none yet have equalled Betterton. But I
+am unwilling to show his superiority only by recounting the errors of
+those, who now cannot
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136">136</a></span>
+answer to them, let their farther failings
+therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in some measure excuse them!
+For I am not yet sure, that they might not be as much owing to the false
+judgment of the spectator, as the actor. While the million are so apt to
+be transported, when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while
+they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it
+is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted,
+at this easy rate, to excite it. Shall I go a little farther? and allow
+that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? I mean
+that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of
+pronunciation, which to my ear is insupportable; for of all faults that
+so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the
+fewest admirers. That this is an error of ancient standing seems evident
+by what Hamlet says, in his instructions to the players, <i>viz.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Be not too tame, neither, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The actor, doubtless, is as strongly tied down to the rules of Horace as
+the writer:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="indent">Si vis me flere, dolendum est</p>
+<p>Primum ipsi tibi&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a
+sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of Betterton; and it has
+often amazed me to see those who soon came after him, throw out in some
+parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit, which Betterton
+himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining
+passages of the same character, have heavily dragged the sentiment along
+like a dead weight; with a long-toned voice, and absent eye, as if they
+had fairly forgot what they were about. If you have never made this
+observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A farther excellence in Betterton, was, that he could vary his spirit
+to the different characters he acted. Those wild impatient starts, that
+fierce and flashing fire, which he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137">137</a></span>
+threw into Hotspur, never came from
+the unruffled temper of his <i>Brutus</i> (for I have more than once, seen a
+<i>Brutus</i> as warm as Hotspur) when the Betterton Brutus was provoked, in
+his dispute with Cassius, his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady
+look alone supplyed that terror, which he disdained an intemperance in
+his voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like
+an unheeding rock, he repelled upon himself the foam of Cassius. Perhaps
+the very works of Shakspeare will better let you into my meaning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Must I give way, and room, to your rash choler?</p>
+<p>Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And a little after,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>There is no terror, Cassius, in your looks! &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Not but in some part of this scene, where he reproaches <i>Cassius</i>, his
+temper is not under this suppression, but opens into that warmth which
+becomes a man of virtue; yet this is that <i>hasty spark</i> of anger, which
+Brutus himself endeavours to excuse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But with whatever strength of nature we see the poet show, at once, the
+philosopher and the hero, yet the image of the actor&#8217;s excellence will
+be still imperfect to you, unless language could put colours in our
+words to paint the voice with.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum</i>, is enjoining an
+impossibility. The most that a <i>Vandyke</i> can arrive at, is to make his
+portraits of great persons seem to <i>think</i>; a Shakspeare goes farther
+yet, and tells you <i>what</i> his pictures thought; a Betterton steps beyond
+them both, and calls them from the grave, to breathe, and be themselves
+again, in feature, speech, and motion. When the skilful actor shows you
+all these powers at once united, and gratifies at once your eye, your
+ear, your understanding. To conceive the pleasure rising from such
+harmony, you must have been present at it! &#8217;tis not to be told you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138">138</a></span>
+&ldquo;There cannot be a stronger proof of the charms of harmonious elocution,
+than the many, even unnatural scenes and flights of the false sublime it
+has lifted into applause. In what raptures have I seen an audience, at
+the furious fustian and turgid rants in <i>Nat. Lee&#8217;s Alexander the
+Great</i>! for though I can allow this play a few great beauties, yet it is
+not without its extravagant blemishes. Every play of the same author has
+more or less of them. Let me give you a sample from this. Alexander, in
+a full crowd of courtiers, without being occasionally called or provoked
+to it, falls into this rhapsody of
+<ins class="correction" title="hyphenation regularized">vainglory</ins>:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Can none remember? Yes, I know all must!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And therefore they shall know it again.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>When Glory, like a dazzling eagle, stood</p>
+<p>Perched on my beaver, in the Granic flood,</p>
+<p>When Fortune&#8217;s self, my standard trembling bore,</p>
+<p>And the pale Fates stood frighted on the shore,</p>
+<p>When the immortals on the billows rode,</p>
+<p>And I myself appeared the leading god.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When these flowing numbers come from the mouth of a Betterton, the
+multitude no more desired sense to them, than our musical connoisseurs
+think it essential in the celebrated airs of an Italian opera. Does not
+this prove, that there is very near as much enchantment in the
+well-governed voice of an actor, as in the sweet pipe of a eunuch? If I
+tell you, there was no one tragedy, for many years, more in favour with
+the town than Alexander, to what must we impute this its command of
+public admiration? not to its intrinsic merit, surely, if it swarms with
+passages like this I have shown you! If this passage has merit, let us
+see what figure it would make upon canvas, what sort of picture would
+rise from it. If Le Brun, who was famous for painting the battles of
+this hero, had seen this lofty description, what one image could he have
+possibly taken from it? In what colours would he have shown us <i>Glory
+perched upon a beaver</i>? how would he have drawn <i>Fortune trembling</i>? or,
+indeed, what use could he have made of <i>pale</i>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139">139</a></span>
+<i>Fates</i>, or <i>immortals</i>
+riding upon <i>billows</i>, with this blustering <i>god</i> of his own making at
+the <i>head</i> of them! where, then, must have lain the charm, that once
+made the public so partial to this tragedy? why plainly, in the grace
+and harmony of the actor&#8217;s utterance. For the actor himself is not
+accountable for the false poetry of his author; that, the hearer is to
+judge of; if it passes upon him, the actor can have no quarrel to it;
+who, if the periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and
+high-sounding, even in a false passion, must throw out the same fire and
+grace, as may be required in one justly rising from nature; where those
+his excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the
+taste of his hearer. And I am of opinion, that to the extraordinary
+success of this very play, we may impute the corruption of so many
+actors, and tragic writers, as were immediately mislead by it. The
+unskilful actor, who imagined all the merit of delivering those blazing
+rants, lay only in the strength, and strained exertion of the voice,
+began to tear his lungs, upon every false, or slight occasion, to arrive
+at the same applause. And it is hence I date our having seen the same
+reason prevalent, for above fifty years. Thus equally misguided too,
+many a barren-brained author has streamed into a frothy flowing style,
+pompously rolling into sounding periods,
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;signifyng&rsquo;">signifying</ins>&mdash;roundly
+nothing; of which number, in some of my former labours, I am something
+more than suspicious, that I may myself have made one, but to keep a
+little closer to Betterton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When this favourite play I am speaking of, from its being too
+frequently acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the town,
+upon the sudden death of Monfort, who had played Alexander with success,
+for several years, the part was given to Betterton, which, under this
+great disadvantage of the satiety it had given, he immediately revived
+with so new a lustre, that for three days together it filled the house;
+and had his then declining strength been equal to the fatigue the action
+gave him, it probably might have doubled its success; an uncommon
+instance of the power and intrinsic merit of an actor. This I mention
+not only to prove what irresistible pleasure
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140">140</a></span>
+may arise from a judicious
+elocution, with scarce sense to assist it; but to show you too, that
+though Betterton never wanted fire, and force, when his character
+demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never prostituted his
+power to the low ambition of a false applause. And further, that when,
+from a too advanced age, he resigned that toilsome part of Alexander,
+the play, for many years after never was able to impose upon the public;
+and I look upon his so particularly supporting the false fire and
+extravagancies of that character, to be a more surprizing proof of his
+skill, than his being eminent in those of Shakspeare; because there,
+truth and nature coming to his assistance he had not the same
+difficulties to combat, and consequently, we must be less amazed at his
+success, where we are more able to account for
+it<ins class="correction" title="no closing quotation mark in text">.</ins></p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p>
+
+</div> <!-- end div mirror -->
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="censor">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141">141</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="dramatic_censor" id="dramatic_censor"></a>DRAMATIC CENSOR.</h2>
+
+<hr class="thick" />
+
+<div class="smaller"><p>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.</p>
+
+<p class="right smaller"><i>Dr. Johnson&#8217;s Idler, No. 25.</i></p></div>
+
+<h4>PHILADELPHIA THEATRE.</h4>
+
+<table class="payne" summary="characters played by Master Payne">
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>Dec.&nbsp;6th.</i></td>
+<td>Douglas, <i>with the</i> Shipwreck.</td>
+<td>Young Norval</td>
+<td rowspan="5" class="b-rt">&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td rowspan="5" class="b-lb">&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="bottom" rowspan="5"><i>By</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>8th.</i></td>
+<td>Mountaineers&mdash;Raising the Wind.</td>
+<td>Octavian</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>9th.</i></td>
+<td>Lover&#8217;s Vows&mdash;Rosina.</td>
+<td>Frederick</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>11th.</i></td>
+<td>Mahomet&mdash;Spoiled Child.</td>
+<td>Zaphna</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>13th.</i></td>
+<td>Hamlet&mdash;Weathercock.</td>
+<td>Hamlet</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>15th.</i></td>
+<td>Pizarro&mdash;The Ghost.</td>
+<td>Rolla</td>
+<td rowspan="5" class="b-rb">&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td rowspan="5" class="b-lt">&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td rowspan="5"><span class="smallcaps"><i>Master<br /> Payne.</i></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>16th.</i></td>
+<td>Douglas&mdash;Youth, Love and Folly.</td>
+<td>Young Norval</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>18th.</i></td>
+<td>Tancred and Sigismunda&mdash;Farmer.</td>
+<td>Tancred</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>20th.</i></td>
+<td>Barbarossa&mdash;Too Many Cooks.</td>
+<td>Selim</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="right"><i>22d.</i></td>
+<td>Romeo and Juliet&mdash;Love laughs at Locksmiths, for his own benefit.</td>
+<td>Romeo</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">All</span> those plays are well known. From the peculiar circumstances
+attending their performance they call for a share of particular
+attention, which would otherwise be superfluous. Where there is
+something new, and much to be admired, it would be inexcusable to be
+niggard of our labour, even were the labour painful, which in this
+instance it is not. The performance of Master Payne pleased us so much
+that we have often since derived great enjoyment from the recollection
+of it; and to retrace upon paper the opinions with which it impressed
+us, we now sit down with feelings very different from those, which, at
+one time, we expected to accompany the task. Without the least
+hesitation we confess, that when we were assured it would become our
+duty to examine that young gentleman&#8217;s pretensions, and compare his
+sterling value with the general estimate of it, as reported from other
+parts of the union, we felt greatly perplexed.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142">142</a></span>
+On one hand strict
+critical justice with the pledge which is given in our motto,
+imperiously forbidding us to applaud him who does not deserve it, stared
+us in the face with a peremptory inhibition from sacrificing truth to
+ceremony, or prostrating our judgment before the feet of public
+prejudice: while, on the other we were aware that nothing is so
+obstinate as error&mdash;that fashionable idolatry is of all things the most
+incorrigible by argument, and the least susceptible of conviction&mdash;that
+while the dog-star of
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;favourite-ism&rsquo; over line break">favouritism</ins>
+is vertical over a people, there is
+no reasoning with them to effect; and that all the efforts of common
+sense are but given to the wind, if employed to undeceive them, till the
+brain fever has spent itself, and the public mind has settled down to a
+state of rest. We had heard Master Payne&#8217;s performances spoken of in a
+style which quite overset our faith. Not one with whom we conversed
+about him spoke within the bounds of reason: few indeed seemed to
+understand the subject, or, if they did, to view it with the sober eye
+of plain common rationality. The opinions of some carried their own
+condemnation in their obvious extravagance; and hyperbolical admiration
+fairly ran itself out of breath in speaking of the wonders of this
+cisatlantic young Roscius.</p>
+
+<p>While we knew that half of what was said was utterly impossible, we
+thought it due to candor to believe that such a general opinion could
+not exist without some little foundation; that in all likelihood the boy
+had merit, considerable for his years and means, to which his puerility
+might have given a peculiar recommendation, and that when he came to be
+unloaded by time and public reflection of that injurious burthen of
+idolatrous praise, which to our thinking had all the bad effects of
+calumny, we should be able to find at bottom something that could be
+applauded without impairing our veracity, deceiving the public, or
+joining the multitude in burning the vile incense of flattery under the
+boy&#8217;s nose, and hiding him from the world and from himself in a cloud of
+pernicious adulation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143">143</a></span>
+But how to encounter this reigning humour was the question: to render
+his reasoning efficacious, the critic must take care not to make it
+unpalatable. And here the general taste seemed to be in direct
+opposition to our reason and experience; for we had not yet (even in the
+case of young Betty, with the aggregate authority of England, Ireland,
+and Scotland in his favour) been free from scepticism: the Roscio-mania
+contagion had not yet infected us quite so much: in a word, we had no
+faith in <span class="smallcaps">miracles</span>, nor could we, in either the one case or the other,
+screw up our credulity to any sort of unison with the pitch of the
+multitude. We shall not readily forget the mixed sensations of concern
+and risibility with which, day after day, from the first annunciation of
+Master Payne&#8217;s expected appearance at Philadelphia, we were obliged to
+listen to the misjudging applause of his panegyrists. There is a
+narrowness of heart, and a nudity of mind too common in our nature,
+under the impulse of which few people can bring themselves to do homage
+to one person without magnifying their incense by the depreciation of
+some other. According to these a favourite has not his proper station,
+till all others are put below him; as if there was no merit positive,
+but all was good but by comparison. In this temper there certainly is at
+least as much malice to one as kindness to the other: but an honourable
+and beneficent wisdom gives other laws for human direction, and dictates
+that in the house of merit there are not only many stories, but many
+apartments in each story: and that every man may be fairly adjudicated
+all the praise he deserves without thrusting others down into the ground
+floor to make room for him. Yet not one in twenty could we find to
+praise Master Payne, without doing it at the expense of others. &ldquo;He is
+superior to Cooper,&rdquo; said one; &ldquo;he speaks better than Fennell,&rdquo; said a
+second: these sagacious observations too, are rarely accompanied by a
+modest qualification, such as &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; or &ldquo;it is my opinion&rdquo;&mdash;but
+nailed down with a peremptory <span class="smallcaps">is</span>. This is the mere naked offspring of a
+muddy or unfinished mind, which, for want of discrimination
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144">144</a></span>
+to point
+out the particular beauties it affects to admire, accomplishes its will
+by a sweeping wholesale term of comparison, more injurious to him they
+praise than to him they slight. Nay, so far has this been carried, that
+some who never were out of the limits of this union have, by a kind of
+telescopical discernment, viewed Cooke and Kemble in comparison with
+their new favourite, and found them quite deficient. We cannot readily
+forget one circumstance: a person said to another in our hearing at the
+playhouse, &ldquo;You have been in England, sir, don&#8217;t you think Master Payne
+superior to young Betty?&rdquo; &ldquo;I don&#8217;t know, sir, having never seen Master
+Betty,&rdquo; answered the man; &ldquo;I think he is very much superior,&rdquo; replied
+the former&mdash;&ldquo;You have seen Master Betty then, sir,&rdquo; said the latter;
+&ldquo;No, I never did,&rdquo; returned he that asked the first question, &ldquo;but I am
+sure of it&mdash;I have heard a person that was in England say so!!&rdquo;&mdash;This
+was the pure effusion of a mind subdued to prostration by wonder. In
+England this was carried to such lengths, that the panegyrists of young
+Betty seemed to vie with each other in fanatical admiration of that
+truly extraordinary boy. One, in a public print, went so far as to
+assert, that Mr. Fox (who, as well as Mr. Pitt, was at young Betty&#8217;s
+benefit when he played Hamlet) declared the performance was little, if
+at all, inferior to that of his deceased friend Garrick. With the very
+same breath in which we read the paragraph we declared it to be a
+falsehood. Mr. Fox had too much judgment to institute the
+comparison&mdash;Mr. Fox had too much benignity to utter such a malicious
+libel upon that noble boy.</p>
+
+<p>These considerations naturally augmented our anxiety, and we did most
+heartily wish, if it were possible, to be relieved from the task of
+giving an opinion of Master Payne. For in addition to his youthfulness,
+we knew that he wanted many advantages which young Betty possessed. The
+infant Roscius of England, had, from his very infancy, been in a state
+of the best discipline; being from the time he was five years of age,
+daily exercised in recitation of poetry, by his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145">145</a></span>
+mother, who shone in
+private theatricals; and having been afterwards prepared for the stage,
+and hourly tutored by Mr. Hough, an excellent preceptor. By his father
+too, who is one of the best fencers in Europe, he was improved in
+gracefulness of attitude&mdash;and nature had uncommonly endowed him for the
+reception of those instructions. Of such means of improvement Master
+Payne was wholly destitute, for there was not a man that we could hear
+of in America who was at once capable and willing to instruct him.
+Self-dependent and self-taught as he must be, we could see no feasible
+means by which he could evolve his powers, be they what they might, to
+adequate effect for the stage. We deemed it scarcely possible that he
+could have got rid of the innumerable provincialisms which must cling to
+his youth: and we laid our account at the best with meeting a fine
+forward boy who would speak, perhaps not very well either, by rote; and
+taking the most prominent favourite actor of his day, as a model, be a
+mere childish imitator. We considered that when young people do any
+thing with an excellence disproportioned to their years, they are viewed
+through a magnifying medium; and that being once seen to approach to the
+perfection of eminent adults, they are, by a transition sufficiently
+easy to a wondering mind, readily concluded to excel them. Thus Betty
+was said to surpass Kemble and Cooke; and thus young Payne was roundly
+asserted to surpass Cooper and Fennell. Such were the feelings and
+opinions with which we met Master Payne on his first appearance, for
+which the tragedy of Douglas was judiciously selected; and we own that
+the first impression he made upon our minds was favourable to his
+talents in this way: He appeared to be just of that age which we should
+think least advantageous to him; too young to enforce approbation by
+robust manly exertion of talents; too far advanced to win over the
+judgment by tenderness; or by a manifest disproportion between his age
+and his efforts, to excite that astonishment which, however shortlived,
+is, while it lasts, despotic over the understanding. Labouring,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146">146</a></span>
+therefore, under most of the disadvantages without any of the
+advantages of puerility, candor and common sense pronounced at once that
+much less of the estimation in which he was held, was to be ascribed to
+his boyishness, and of course much more to his talents than we had been
+led to imagine. If, therefore, he got through the character handsomely,
+and still carried the usual applause along with him, we directly
+conceived that there would be just ground for thinking it not entirely
+the result of prejudice, nor by any means undeserved.</p>
+
+<p>At his entrance he seemed a little intimidated, as if he were dubious of
+his reception; nor could he for some minutes
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">devest</ins> himself of that
+feeling, though he was received with the most flattering welcome;&mdash;this
+transient perturbation gave a very pleasing effect to his first words;
+and when he said, &ldquo;My name is Norval,&rdquo; he uttered it with a pause which
+seemed to be the effect of the modest diffidence natural to such a
+character upon being introduced into a higher presence than he had ever
+before approached. Had this been the effect of art it would have been
+fine&mdash;perhaps it was&mdash;but we thought it was accidental.</p>
+
+<p>The utter impossibility of a beardless boy of sixteen or seventeen
+years, at all assimilating to the character of a warrior and mighty
+slayer of men, is of itself an insuperable obstacle to the complete
+<i>personification</i> of certain characters by a young gentleman of the age
+and stature of Master Payne. He might speak them with strict
+propriety&mdash;he might act them with feeling and spirit; but had he the
+general genius of Garrick&mdash;the energies of Mossop&mdash;the beauty of Barry,
+the elocution of Sheridan, and the art of Kemble, he could not with the
+feminine face and voice, and the unfinished person inseparable from such
+tender years, <i>personate</i> them: nor so long as he is seen or heard can
+the perception of his nonage be excluded, or he be thought to represent
+that character, to the formation of which, not gristle, nor fair, round
+soft lineaments, but huge bone and muscle, well-knit joints, knotty
+limbs, and the hard face of Mars are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147">147</a></span>
+necessary. If we find, as we do in
+many great works of criticism, objections made to the performance of
+several characters by actors of high renown merely for their deficiency
+in personal appearance&mdash;if the externals of Mr. Garrick are stated by
+his warmest panegyrists as unfitting him for characters of dignity or
+heroism, even to his exclusion from Faulconbridge, Hotspur, &amp;c. and if
+we find that the greatest admirers of Barry considered the harmony and
+softness of his features, as reducing his Macbeth, Pierre, &amp;c. to poor
+lukewarm efforts, how can it be expected that a boy, just started from
+childhood, should present a true picture of a warrior or a philosopher?
+We premise this for the purpose of having it understood that what we are
+to say of Master Payne is to be subject to these deductions, and that in
+the praise which it is but just to bestow upon him, we exclude all idea
+of external resemblance to the characters. Of the mental powers, the
+informing spirit, the genius, the feeling which he now discloses, and
+the rich promise they afford of future greatness&mdash;of these it is, we
+profess to speak: further we cannot go without insincerity, untruth, and
+manifest absurdity.</p>
+
+<p>As might have been expected from Master Payne&#8217;s limited means of stage
+instruction, he several times discovered want of judgment. In the speech
+in which Norval tells his story, he trespassed on propriety in his
+efforts to throw an air of martial ardor into his expressions; by
+suddenly changing the key and raising the tone of his voice, and
+speaking with increased rapidity the words that more immediately related
+to fighting, erecting them into a kind of <i>alto relievo</i> above the level
+of the rest; particularly in &ldquo;I had heard of battles,&rdquo; &amp;c. &ldquo;We fought
+and conquered,&rdquo; &amp;c. all which is a narrative that should be delivered
+with humility, and a strict avoidance of any thing like vainglory, or
+egotism, studiously softening down, with modest air, those details of
+his own prowess which the author has <i>necessarily</i> given to the
+character.</p>
+
+<p>Had Master Payne had a Hough to instruct him, or a Cooke for his model,
+he would have escaped the error into
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148">148</a></span>
+which he fell in that part of the
+fourth act in which Norval describes the hermit who instructed him: he
+would have known that acting what he narrates is highly improper&mdash;indeed
+absurd; as it is acting in the first person, and speaking in the third
+at one and the same time. While he repeated the words</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;Cut the figures of the marshall&#8217;d hosts,</p>
+<p>Described the motions, and explain&#8217;d the use</p>
+<p>Of the deep column, and the lengthened line,</p>
+<p>The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm,</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Master Payne cut those figures, and described the square and the
+crescent with his hands&mdash;a great error! A better lesson cannot be
+offered to a young actor on this subject than may be found in the novel
+of Peregrine Pickle, in which doctor Smollet ridicules Quin the player
+for acting narrative in Zanga.</p>
+
+<p>Master Payne would find it his interest to avoid as much as may be, long
+declamatory speeches, till his organs are enlarged and confirmed. But in
+those parts in which Douglas discloses his lofty spirit, and no less in
+all the pathetic parts, he far exceeded expectation, and deserved all
+the applause he received.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Oh, tell me who and where&#8217;s my mother!</p>
+<p>Oppressed by a base world, perhaps she bends</p>
+<p>Beneath the weight of other ills than grief,</p>
+<p>And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid</p>
+<p>Her son should give&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Oh, tell me her condition.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was, in his delivering these lines, an expression of tenderness
+which appealed forcibly to the heart; and was rendered still more
+striking by the abrupt transition to his sword,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Can the sword&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Who shall resist me in a parent&#8217;s cause?</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>which he executed with a felicity that nothing but consummate
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149">149</a></span>
+genius could accomplish. Again he blazed out with <i>the true spirit</i>
+in the following lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>The blood of Douglas will protect itself.</p>
+<p>Then let yon false Glenalvon beware of me.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>That part, however, in which he disclosed not only exquisite feeling but
+a soundness of judgment that would do honour to an experienced actor,
+was where Glenalvon taunts him, for the purpose of rousing his spirit to
+resentment. In that speech particularly which begins,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Sir, I have been accustomed all my days</p>
+<p>To hear and speak the plain and simple truth.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The suppression of his indignation in this and the succeeding
+passages&mdash;the climax of passion marked in his face, his tone and his
+action, when he says to himself</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>If this were told!&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>the gradation thence to</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>till at last he flames into ungovernable rage in</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,</p>
+<p>And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d tell thee&mdash;what thou art&mdash;I know thee well.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>was altogether a string of beauties such as it rarely falls to the lot
+of the critic to commemorate. Had age and personal hardihood been added,
+it would have defied the cavils of the most churlish criticism, and
+deprived even enmity of all pretence to censure.</p>
+
+<p>The next striking beauty he disclosed was in his reply to Randolph, when
+the latter offers his arbitration between him and Glenalvon.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,</p>
+<p>My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150">150</a></span>
+The cold peremptory dignity he threw into these words was beautifully
+conceived, and executed in a masterly manner: nor was he less successful
+in the transition to an expression of poignant but smothered sensibility
+in the next line:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak</p>
+<p>Th&#8217; opprobrious words that I from him have borne.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>His delivery of this and all the other lines of the speech that followed
+it, deserved the thunders of applause with which it was greeted&mdash;it was,
+indeed, admirable.</p>
+
+<p>In impassioned feeling lies Master Payne&#8217;s strength. Hence his last
+scene was deeply affecting. Though we could well have spared that
+<span class="smallcaps">Kembleian</span> dying trope, his rising up and falling again. It is because we
+seriously respect Master Payne&#8217;s talents that we make this remark:
+clap-traps and stage trick of every kind cannot be too studiously
+avoided by persons of real parts.</p>
+
+<p>It would be injustice to omit one passage&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Just as my arm had mastered Randolph&#8217;s sword</p>
+<p>The villain came behind me&mdash;&mdash;<span class="smallcaps">but I slew him</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the break, the pause, and the last four words he was inimitably fine.</p>
+
+<p>In Master Payne&#8217;s performance of this character we perceived many
+faults, which call for his own correction. They are, we think, such as
+he has it in his power to get rid of. As they are general and pervade
+all his performances, we reserve our observations upon them till we
+close the course of criticism we are to bestow upon him, when we mean to
+sum up our opinion of his general talents. Meantime we beg leave to
+remind him that Mr. Garrick himself, after he had been near forty years
+upon the stage, often shut himself up for days together restudying and
+rehearsing parts he had acted with applause a hundred times before. <i>Sat
+sapienti.</i></p>
+
+<p>Nature has bestowed upon this young gentleman a countenance of no common
+order. Its expression has not yet unfolded itself; but we entertain no
+doubt that when manhood
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151">151</a></span>
+and diligent professional exercise shall have
+brought the muscles of his face into full relief, and strengthened its
+lines, it will be powerfully capable of all the inflexions necessary for
+a general player. At present the character of his physiognomy is
+perfectly discernible only upon a near view. When he advances towards
+the front of the stage, the lines may be perceived from that part of the
+pit and boxes which are near the orchestra; even then the shades are so
+very much softened by youth, and the parts so rounded, and so utterly
+free from acute angles, that they can, as yet, but faintly express
+strong, turbulent emotions, or display the furious passions. In a boy of
+his age, this, so far from being a defect, is a beauty, the reverse of
+which would be unnatural; and if it were a defect, every day that passes
+over his head would remedy it. What is now wanting in muscular
+expression, is in a great measure supplied by his eye, which glows with
+animation, and intelligence, and at times <span class="smallcaps">speaks</span> the language of a soul
+really impassioned. Upon a close view, when apart from the factitious
+aids and incumbrances of stage-lights, costume, and paint, he must be a
+shallow-sighted physiognomist who would not at the first glance be
+struck by Master Payne&#8217;s countenance. A more extraordinary mixture of
+softness and intelligence never were associated in a human face. The
+forehead is particularly fine; Lavater would say that genius and energy
+were enthroned there; and over the whole, though yet quite boyish, there
+is a strong expression of what is called manliness; by which is to be
+understood, not present, but the indications of future manliness. How
+strongly and distinctly this is characterised in the boy&#8217;s face, may be
+collected from an anecdote which, exclusive of its application to this
+subject, we think well worth relating on account of the other party
+concerned in it.</p>
+
+<p>A day or two before Master Payne left Philadelphia he and a friend of
+his walking in a remote part of the city, were encountered by a strange
+old woman, who requested alms with an earnestness which exacted
+attention. The gentleman who was in company with our youth, and from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152">152</a></span>
+whom we deliver the story, being an Irishman, instantly recognizing in
+the petitioner, an unhappy countrywoman, stopped, surveyed her with more
+than cursory regard, and put his hand into his pocket in order to give
+her money. As there was in her aspect that which bespoke something that
+had once been better accommodated, and had claims above a common
+mendicant, he was searching in his pocket for a suitable piece of
+silver, when the generous boy outstripping him, put unostentatiously,
+into the old lady&#8217;s hand some pieces of silver. She viewed them&mdash;drew
+back&mdash;gazed upon him for some seconds with a fixed look of wonder,
+delight and affection, then lifting up her eyes to heaven, in a tone of
+voice, and with a solemnity which no words can express, exclaimed, &ldquo;May
+the great God of heaven shower down his blessings on <span class="smallcaps">your infant years,
+and manly face</span>!&rdquo; Quickness of conception beyond all other people is now
+allowed, even by the English, to be characteristic of the people of
+Ireland, once considered by those of the sister kingdom as the B&aelig;otians
+of Britain; and we are disposed to concur with the Irish gentleman, who,
+in his exultation and honest prejudice said, &ldquo;that the woman might be
+known to be Irish from her warm gratitude, her quick discernment, and
+her elegant extemporaneous compliment.&rdquo; In fact, if Edmund Burke
+himself, who exceeded all mankind in the quickness and elegance of
+complimentary replies, had been considering the matter a whole hour, he
+could not have uttered anything to surpass it.</p>
+
+<p>Of Master Payne&#8217;s person we cannot speak (nor do we hope) so favourably
+as of his face. And we much fear that he will not undergo the pain of
+mending it by abstinence from indulgence. Early hours, active or even
+hard exercise, particularly of the gymnastic kind, and diligent
+unremitting study are as indispensable to his fame, if he means to be a
+player, as food or drink are to his support. In general his action is
+elegant&mdash;his attitudes bold and striking; but of the former he sometimes
+uses too much, and in his appropriation of the latter he is not always
+sufficiently discriminating. This was particularly observable in his
+performance of Frederick
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153">153</a></span>
+in Lover&#8217;s Vows&mdash;a character in which we shall
+have occasion to speak of him, and with great praise in a future number.
+His walk too, which in his own unaffected natural gait is not
+exceptionable, he frequently spoils by a kind of pushing step, at open
+war with dignity of deportment. It would be well for this young
+gentleman if he had never seen Mr. Cooper. Perhaps he will be startled
+at this; and flatters himself that he never imitates that gentleman. We
+can readily conceive him to think so even at the moment he is doing it.
+To imitate another, it is not necessary to intend to do so. Every day of
+their lives men imitate without the intervention of the will. The
+manners of an admired, or much-observed individual, insensibly root
+themselves in a young person&#8217;s habits&mdash;he draws them into his system, as
+he does the atmosphere which surrounds him. We doubt very much whether
+Mr. Cooper himself would not be surprised if he knew how much he
+imitates Kemble. Though seemingly a paradox, we firmly rely upon it&mdash;Mr.
+Cooper <i>may</i> be aiming at Cooke, when he is by old habitual taint really
+hitting Kemble.<a class="tag" name="tag1" id="tag1" href="#note1">1</a>
+On this subject of imitation much is to be said.
+Kemble rose when every bright luminary of the stage had set. Being the
+best of his day, in the metropolis, he has become the standard of acting
+to the young and inexperienced; more from pride than want of judgment he
+goes wrong; his system of acting is radically vitious; but as it makes
+labour pass as a substitute for genius, by transferring expression from
+its natural organs to the limbs, and making attitude and action the
+chief representatives of the passions and the feelings, it not only
+fascinates because it catches the eye, but is adopted because extremely
+convenient to the vast majority of young adventurers on the stage, who,
+possessing neither the feelings fit for the profession, nor the organs,
+nor the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154">154</a></span>
+genius to express them if they had, are glad to find a
+substitute for both. Hence the system of Mr. Kemble has spread like a
+plague&mdash;infected the growing race of actors, mixed itself with the very
+life-blood of the art, and extended its contagion through every new
+branch, even to the very last year&#8217;s bud. Thus Mr. Kemble is imitated by
+those who never saw him. Let us tell Master Payne that it is the very
+worst school he could go to, this of the statuary. It is as much
+inferior to the old one&mdash;to that of Garrick, Barry, Mossop, and nature,
+as the block of marble from which the Farnesian Hercules was hewed, is
+to the god himself. Of its superiority we need urge no farther proof
+than that of Mr. Cooke, who, though assuredly inferior to several of the
+old stock, and groaning under unexampled intemperance, has in spite of
+every impediment which artful jealousy and envy of his talents could
+raise against him, risen so high in public estimation, that even when
+just reeking from offences which would not have been endured in Garrick
+or Barry, his return is hailed with shouts, as if it were a national
+triumph. And why?&mdash;because he is of the old school, and scorns the
+cajolery of statue-attitude and stage-trick.</p>
+
+<p>We speak thus freely to Master Payne because we think he has talents
+worth the interposition of criticism, and if we speak at all, must speak
+the whole truth. The praise we give him might well be distrusted, if
+from any false delicacy we slurred over his defects and errors. The most
+dangerous rock in his way will be adulation. Sincerely we wish him to be
+assured that those who mix their applause with a proper alloy of censure
+are his best friends. Indiscriminate flatterers are no better than the
+snake which besmears its prey with slime, only to gorge it the more
+easily.</p>
+
+<p>On reviewing what we have written, we find no observation on Master
+Payne&#8217;s voice, in which nature has been very bountiful to him. We heard
+him a few times, with no little pain strain it out of its compass. He
+need not do so; since, judiciously managed, it is equal to all the
+purposes of his profession. Those are dangerous experiments, by which he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155">155</a></span>
+may spoil a voice naturally clear, melodious, and of tolerable
+compass. His pronunciation is at times hurtful to a very nice ear. He is
+not to imagine that he has spoken as he ought when he has uttered words
+as they are pronounced in general conversation. There are some, and high
+ones too, who will say &ldquo;good boy&rdquo; when they mean &ldquo;goodbye;&rdquo; and it would
+not be at all impossible to hear a very fine lady say that she was daown
+in taown, to buy a gaown. We do not accuse Master Payne of this; but at
+times a little of the <i>a</i> cheats the <i>o</i> of its good old round rights;
+so distantly however, as not to be noticed except by a very accurate
+ear&mdash;but he ought not to let <i>any ear</i> discover it.</p>
+
+<p>To the correct orthoepist, several persons on the stage give offence in
+the pronunciation of the pronoun possessive <span class="smallcaps">my</span>&mdash;speaking it in all cases
+with the full open <span class="smallcaps">y</span>, as it would rhyme to <i>fly</i>, which should only be
+when it is put in contradistinction to <i>thy</i> or <i>his</i>, or any other
+pronoun possessive: in all other cases it should be sounded like <i>me</i>.
+This is a pure Americanism, not practised in any other place where the
+English language is spoken, and, so far as it goes, deprives the word of
+a quality of nice distinctness.</p>
+
+<p>It gives us great pleasure to communicate to our readers the
+intelligence that Master Payne&#8217;s success at Richmond, even surpassed
+that which he had met before. From a letter submitted to our perusal we
+have, with permission, made the following extract: &ldquo;Wednesday night
+Payne arrived; Thursday was the first day of his performance; the other
+nights, being Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and
+Saturday, when the house closed for the season; and on Sunday he
+departed in the mail stage. This flying visit (of ten days only)
+produced him upwards of <span class="smallcaps">seventeen hundred dollars</span>!!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="space">It was our intention to confine our remarks on this occasion entirely to
+Master Payne. It seemed to us that the interest taken by the public in
+this native plant, the novelty of his appearance, and, indeed, his own
+merits, laid claim to a very
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156">156</a></span>
+particular discussion of his performances:
+but as we read over the play for that purpose, Mr. M&#8216;Kenzie&#8217;s <i>Old
+Norval</i> forced itself so imperiously upon our remembrance, that we could
+not drop the subject without doing justice to that gentleman&#8217;s
+performance and our own feelings. It was a specimen of acting and
+speaking we little expected to meet with: masterly, chaste, and
+exquisitely affecting; no less gratifying to the critical ear than to
+the feeling heart. We particularly admired his attestation to heaven of
+his innocence:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="insetbig">As I hope</p>
+<p>For mercy before the judgment seat of heaven</p>
+<p>The tender lamb that never nipt the grass</p>
+<p>Is not more innocent than I of murder.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And his pathetic supplication for mercy:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Oh, gentle lady! by your lord&#8217;s dear life,</p>
+<p>Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne&#8217;er assail,</p>
+<p>And by your children&#8217;s welfare spare my age!</p>
+<p>Let not the iron tear my aged joints,</p>
+<p>And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The first of these he poured forth with an expression of simple
+sincerity, and the second with a gentle earnestness, so humble, so
+passionately moving, that none but the most hardened hearts could resist
+it. Even the gallery felt its force and made the house resound with its
+rude applause&mdash;&#8217;twas well; and we may say with Pierre,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>We could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased us.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>As in the two former passages Mr. M&#8216;Kenzie presented a specimen of
+exquisitely pathetic expression, so he evinced his skill and powers of
+speaking in that speech which may be called the pride of the
+play&mdash;perhaps of all Scottish poetry too, in which he relates the
+finding of the child:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>One stormy night, as I remember well,</p>
+<p>The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof;</p>
+<p>Red came the river down, and loud and oft</p>
+<p>The angry spirit of the water shriek&#8217;d, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157">157</a></span>
+Randolph is a character of which we doubt whether Cooke himself
+could make any thing. Mr. Warren did all that is usually done for him.</p>
+
+<p>Partial as we are to Mr. Wood&#8217;s acting generally, we did not perceive in
+his performance of Glenalvon any thing to please us very much, or
+augment his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>In Lady Randolph, Mrs. Barrett would deserve much commendation, if she
+could get rid of a few faults in her speaking. Her feelings and personal
+appearance are finely adapted to the character.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A correspondent at Baltimore, of whose judgment we think highly, has
+sent us the following communication, and expressed a wish that we should
+publish it&mdash;at the same time acknowledging that it had been printed in
+some periodical paper. As we wish to oblige our correspondent, and there
+is no opinion in it which, according to our present idea of the company
+violently militates against our own, we give it a place.</p>
+
+<p class="space">While so interesting a scene is now acting upon the great theatre of the
+world, and as the chief performer has recently closed one of the acts
+with a very important incident, it may, by many be considered as a
+relaxation, to employ a few minutes in taking a concise view of our own
+little theatre; the leader of which has also so lately closed his
+campaign in Baltimore.</p>
+
+<p>I am the more desirous of offering a few remarks upon this subject, from
+having occasionally heard observations indicating some disapprobation
+relative to our theatrical arrangements. Such impressions, we flatter
+ourselves, a little more information upon the subject, and a candid
+reconsideration will do away. From a knowledge of the state of the
+theatres in other parts of the continent, we feel ourselves perfectly
+safe in declaring, that ours is most unquestionably entitled to the
+first place, whether we have reference to the performers composing the
+company, the scenery, dresses, decorations or music.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158">158</a></span>
+In tragedy and genteel comedy, Mr. Wood must certainly be considered
+preeminent, with the exception of Mr. Cooper only, who though
+perhaps<a class="tag" name="tag2" id="tag2" href="#note2">2</a>
+excelling him in some tragical characters, is considered by many good
+judges, as by no means his superior in many appertaining to genteel
+comedy.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wood ranks high in the same line; the correct style in which she
+gives the sense of her author, the refinement of her taste and her clear
+and distinct utterance, must always ensure to her the approbation of an
+enlightened audience; we feel some reluctance in adding that her
+uniformity of declamation, and something in her tones approaching to
+monotony, retard her progress to that excellence to which the
+qualifications abovementioned must evidently lead her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Warren, viewed only as a performer, will be found fairly deserving
+of our praise. In the arduous character of the &ldquo;inimitable and
+unimitated Falstaff&rdquo; he has no rival on this side the Atlantic. In the
+other class of characters, to which he modestly confines himself, he is
+always correct and respectable.</p>
+
+<p>In Mr. Cone, we see a young performer gradually rising in estimation. To
+the manners of a gentleman, he adds a habit of discrimination, the
+effect of a liberal education; and could he get over a certain
+inflexibility of voice, (whether arising from nature or habit we know
+not) he must very soon become a distinguished performer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. M&#8216;Kenzie is also a most respectable and useful actor: his person and
+manner give him many advantages in performing characters requiring
+dignity and firmness of deportment; as Glenalvon in Douglas, he is
+excellent; and those who have witnessed his performance of sir Archy
+M&#8216;Sarcasm and sir Pertinax M&#8216;Sycophant, will unite with us in paying him
+the tribute of applause for his correct personification of the wily
+Scotchman.&mdash;His talents do not seem calculated for genteel comedy in
+general.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159">159</a></span>
+Mrs. Barrett must be considered as a very useful actress; her figure is
+well adapted to the characters she undertakes, and her general
+deportment upon the stage immediately indicates her perfect acquaintance
+with the boards.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wilmot needs not our panegyric to call forward that public
+attention she has so long merited; her qualifications as an actress are
+uncommonly general&mdash;whether we see her in genteel comedy, or in the
+English opera, we are equally gratified with the diversity of her
+talents. As a singer, her voice and judgment are equally conspicuous,
+and those who have seen her in the character of Ophelia, will readily
+admit her claim to the pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to Mrs. Wilmot as a vocal performer, we have Mrs. Seymour,
+who possesses much sweetness and melody of tone, and whose modest and
+unassuming manner of giving her songs is not their smallest attraction.</p>
+
+<p>In low comedy where shall we find a competitor to Jefferson? The only
+performer who seems to bear the comparison for a moment is Twaits; but
+although we willingly subscribe to his merits, yet we can by no means
+admit him capable of that variety of character for which Mr. Jefferson
+is so distinguished.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blisset is also very prominent in the same line&mdash;Together with a
+fund of humour he possesses a whimsical eccentricity of character which
+is always diverting; his voice however, is frequently too weak to be
+heard in the remote parts of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Francis have long enjoyed the <i>favour</i> of the public.
+Francis has much comic talent, sometimes, however, he is led by it, a
+little too much into the caricature. Mrs. F. is not less diverting, and
+remarkable for her appropriate manner of dressing for old characters; a
+property very estimable. The ladies too often sacrifice a correct
+representation of the character in this respect, to an unconquerable
+aversion they so naturally retain of appearing old and ugly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. West, lately added to the company, seems to promise something in low
+comedy; and Mr. Hardinge, in Irish
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160">160</a></span>
+characters, and vocal parts will
+certainly be an acquisition to the theatre. Although our dramatis
+person&aelig; do not afford much strength as to their vocal
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;abilites&rsquo;">abilities;</ins>
+some of
+those abovenamed, with the assistance of Wilmot and Jacobs, form a group
+sufficient to render a musical piece very entertaining.</p>
+
+<p>It should be recollected, that in all theatrical companies, there must
+necessarily be a number of inferior rank; performers of merit will not
+take the minor parts abounding in every dramatic piece; and while we
+condemn a want of excellence in the performer, we should consider, that
+did he possess more talent, he would not fill that situation.</p>
+
+<p>Our orchestra will assuredly bear the strictest scrutiny.&mdash;The names of
+Gillingham and Niniger are sufficient of themselves to stamp its
+character. The other accompaniments are very respectable and
+sufficiently numerous. The scenery, as far as the scale of the stage
+will admit, is frequently beautiful, sometimes superb. The illuminated
+wings recently exhibited in some of the pieces last produced, are new to
+this country, and have a very brilliant effect: they do much credit to
+Messrs. Robins and Stewart in the painting-room. The dresses of the
+principal performers are rich and beautiful; to those who are acquainted
+with European theatres, it will not be considered as amplifying, when we
+assert, that we do not yield to them in that species of decoration. The
+management of the scenery is as correct and subject to as few
+interruptions as possible; and the expedition with which one act
+succeeds another, can be only appreciated by those who have witnessed
+the tedious delay so often experienced in other places.</p>
+
+<p>We are assured no pains have been spared by the manager to procure the
+most eminent performers; nor is any opportunity omitted to take
+advantage of the accidental presence of any performer, whose engagement
+promises to gratify the town.</p>
+
+<p>This theatre has taken the lead in getting up every thing novel, in
+either branch of the drama, and that in a style very much superior to
+any other establishment of the kind upon the continent. It must be
+evident that it is the wish, as it is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161">161</a></span>
+the interest of the manager, to
+conduct the trust committed to him upon the most liberal principles:
+that which pleases the public most, is most favourable to him.</p>
+
+<p>It must be observed, that the limits of a sketch like this, could only
+admit of a very concise and general view of the subject. The writer has
+no farther connexion or interest in the theatre, than that he holds in
+common with those who are partial to dramatic entertainments, and who
+think with him that a well regulated theatre, which is the only public
+amusement Baltimore can boast of, instructs while it amuses, and
+conduces much to that grace and elegance of conversation and manners so
+fascinating in private life.</p>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<h4><a name="music" id="music"></a>IRISH MUSIC.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">In</span> the last number, the reader was presented with a short sketch upon
+the subject of Irish music, in a letter from the celebrated poet Moore.
+That gentleman very philosophically ascribes the mixture of levity and
+melancholy which is discernible in the character, as well as the music
+of the original native Irish, to political circumstances. All who have
+paid attention to the airs of that country must have perceived that they
+are extremely lively and exhilarating, or delightfully plaintive and
+melancholy. The former may be considered as displaying the ground-work,
+or the natural temperament, the other the superinduced adventitious
+character, derived from poverty and oppression. A writer of considerable
+talents and intimate knowledge of the subject (Mr. Walker) adverting to
+the poetry as well as the music of Ireland, speaks as follows:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We see that music maintained its ground in this country even after the
+invasion of the English, but its style suffered
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162">162</a></span>
+a change; for the
+sprightly Phrygian gave place to the grave Doric, or the soft Lydian
+measure. Such was the nice sensibility of the bards, such was their
+tender affection for their country, that the subjections to which the
+kingdom was reduced affected them with the heaviest sadness. Sinking
+beneath this weight of sympathetic sorrow, they became a prey to
+melancholy: hence the plaintiveness of their music: for the ideas that
+arise in the mind are always congenial to, and receive a mixture from
+the influencing passion. Another cause might have occurred in the one
+just mentioned, in promoting a change in the style of our music; the
+bards often driven together with their patrons, by the sword of
+oppression, from the busy haunts of men, were obliged to lie concealed
+in marshes, and in glyns and vallies resounding with the noise of
+falling waters, or filled with portentous echoes. Such scenes as these,
+by throwing a settled gloom over the fancy, must have considerably
+increased their melancholy; so that when they attempted to sing, it is
+not to be wondered at that their voices, thus weakened by struggling
+against heavy mental depression, should rise rather by minor-thirds,
+which consist but of four semitones, than by major-thirds which consist
+of five. Now almost all the airs of this period are found to be set in
+the minor-third, and to be of the sage and solemn nature which Milton
+requires in his <span class="smallcaps">Il
+Penseroso</span>.&rdquo;<a class="tag" name="tag3" id="tag3" href="#note3">3</a></p>
+
+<p>To illustrate his position, Mr. Walker introduces the following
+anecdote: &ldquo;About the year 1730, one Maguire, a vintner, resided near
+Charing Cross, London. His house was much frequented, and his skill in
+playing on the harp was an additional incentive: even the duke of
+Newcastle and several of the ministry sometimes condescended to visit
+it. He was one night called upon to play some Irish tunes; he did so;
+they were plaintive and solemn. His guests demanded the reason, and he
+told them that the native composers were too deeply distressed at the
+situation of their
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163">163</a></span>
+country, and her gallant sons, to be able to compose
+otherwise. But, added he, take off the restraints under which they
+labour, and you will not have reason to complain of the plaintiveness of
+their notes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Offence was taken at these warm effusions: his house became gradually
+neglected, and he died soon after of a broken heart. An Irish harper who
+was a <ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">cotemporary</ins>
+of Maguire, and like him, felt for the sufferings of
+his country, had this distich engraven on his harp:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="stanza">Cur lyra funestas edit percussa sonores?</p>
+<p>Sicut amissum sors diadema gemit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But perhaps the melancholy spirit which breathes through the Irish music
+and poetry, may be attributed to another cause; a cause which operated
+anterior and subsequent to the invasion of the English: we mean the
+remarkable susceptibility of the Irish to the passion of love; a passion
+which the munificent establishment of the bards left them at liberty
+freely to indulge. While the mind is enduring the torments of fear,
+despair or hope, its effusions cannot be gay. The greater number of the
+productions of those amorous poets, Tibullus, Catullus, Petrarch and
+Hammond, are elegiac. The subject of their songs is always love, and
+they seem to understand poetry to be designed for no other purpose than
+to stir up that passion in the
+mind<ins class="correction" title="no closing quotation mark in text">.</ins></p>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164">164</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><a name="sport" id="sport"></a>SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.</h4>
+
+<h6>COLONEL THORNTON&#8217;S DEPARTURE FROM YORKSHIRE.</h6>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Every</span> true sportsman of this county must regret to hear that what has
+been for sometime rumoured has at last taken place. Colonel Thornton has
+been induced to part with Falconer&#8217;s-hall, and if the report is true, we
+have to congratulate him in having selected the most enviable and
+princely domain in England, a residence unparalleled in its situation,
+either for a man of fashion, a <i>bon vivant</i>, or a sportsman. After
+having given the very best sport in hawking, coursing and hunting, at
+Scarborough, Falconer&#8217;s-hall, and to the Saltergate Club, the colonel, a
+few days since, proceeded through York, in his way to Spy Park, in
+Wiltshire, followed by a cavalcade, (such as attracted the attention of
+the whole of this place) in the following order:</p>
+
+<p>First, the boat-wagon, so well known by the opponents of my lord Milton,
+and held by the owner invaluable, from having conveyed not less than
+three thousand independent free-holders of this virtuous county to vote,
+and ultimately, in spite of ministerial influence, to elect lord Milton,
+a <ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">descendent</ins>
+of that man, the pattern of patriotism and unexampled
+rectitude, Charles Watson Wentworth, marquis of Rockingham;&mdash;this wagon,
+admirably contrived for the carrying of luggage or loose dogs, covered
+with the skins of stags, fallow-deer and roebucks killed by the colonel,
+nets, otter spears, fishing rods, and guns, drawn by four thorough-bred
+cream-coloured Arabian mares bred by the king. Next a dog-cart, which
+carried milk-white terriers, and beautiful gray-hounds; these were all
+sheeted and embroidered with the different matches they had won: the
+novelty of this appeared to excite particular gratification. The
+huntsman, mounted upon a powerful, fine gray hunter, followed by an
+immense pack (judged not less than one hundred couple) of stag-hounds,
+fox-hounds, and otter-hounds, and lively lap-dog beagles. A stud-groom
+and four grooms, each leading
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165">165</a></span>
+a thorough-bred horse, the descendants,
+as it was said, of Jupiter;&mdash;deer-skins covered them by way of housing.
+A keeper appropriately dressed, with three brace of pointers. The
+falconer in green and silver, surrounded by hawks, and on his fist a
+venerable grand-duke, closed this procession. Following, we understand,
+there were nine wagon loads of old wine and ale, brought from Thornvile
+Royal, inestimable from its age, and held by the duke of York as the
+finest wine in the kingdom. These wines, moved at such an immense
+expense, were from twenty-five to an hundred years old.</p>
+
+<p>Many sportsmen, though delighted with the <i>coup d&#8217;&oelig;il</i>, could not
+forbear saying they should never see such sport as they had enjoyed with
+the colonel, and envied those who were now to partake of his amusements
+and hospitality in Wiltshire.</p>
+
+<p>The distance we understand this cavalcade is to travel, is about two
+hundred miles. A farther account of this very valuable removal, and
+their safe arrival at their destination (and such was the sincere wish
+of all the spectators) we hope to give hereafter.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>Spy Park is situated in that part of the county of Wilts called North
+Wiltshire, which is very dissimilar, in geographical features and
+natural characteristics, to the southern portion of the county. Whilst
+the former is distinguished by its numerous inclosures, dairy farms, and
+manufacturing towns, the latter is chiefly occupied by the
+wide-spreading downs called Salisbury Plain.</p>
+
+<p>Spy Park has, for many generations, been the property of the Baynton
+family, some of whom appear to have been knights of St. John of
+Jerusalem, in the time of Henry II. The late sir Edward Baynton Holt,
+bart. died at the advanced age of ninety, in January, 1800, when his
+estates devolved to his son and heir, sir Andrew Baynton Holt, who has
+recently sold or let Spy Park to colonel Thornton.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166">166</a></span>
+The mansion is a plain but spacious building, seated in a park which
+abounds with fine old oak and other timber trees. The grounds are
+diversified by bold swells and winding vallies, and command at various
+stations, some extensive and interesting prospects. To the south-east
+the bold promontory called Roundaway-hill, presents its steep acclivity,
+with its commanding encampment on the summit. A range of lofty
+chalk-hills extend thence for several miles to the east, on the southern
+face of which is the White-Horse of Cherril, and above it is another
+encampment, called Oldbury-castle.</p>
+
+<p>At the extremity of the park, towards the west, the grounds slope
+gradually to the river Avon, and its fertile meadows; and at an old
+gate, called the Spy, a very extensive tract of country is unfolded.
+Whilst the plantations of Bowden Park, and the venerable abbey of
+Laycock, attract the eye near the fore-ground, the lofty free-stone
+hills around Bath are seen in the middle distance, and a large tract of
+Gloucestershire is observed extending to the north-east; whilst the more
+picturesque and romantic features of Somersetshire are beheld,
+stretching to the horizon, in the west and south-western directions. The
+park includes an area of nearly eight miles in circumference, and during
+the residence of the late sir Edward, its venerable forest-like trees
+were sacredly preserved from the axe; they were, however, I am informed,
+considerably thinned by the last proprietor.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>Since the publication of colonel Thornton&#8217;s departure from Yorkshire,
+the following letter has appeared in the public prints:</p>
+
+<p>I am happy to inform the public, through the medium of your interesting
+paper, that the cavalcade of colonel Thornton at this place, was
+distinguished by a junction of an immense number of sporting and other
+valuable paintings; together with a collection of rare exotic plants,
+and three wagon loads of bald-faced and other red deer, roebucks,
+Asiatic deer, and party-coloured fallow deer; a <i>garde chasse</i> had the
+charge of two brace of Russian and French wild
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167">167</a></span>
+boars, the latter
+understood to be a present from Napoleon, in return for seventy couple
+of high-bred fox-hounds, descended from the famous old Conqueror, and
+sent to the emperor Napoleon during the last peace, whose high mettle
+afforded him the most exquisite gratification. A brace of cormorants
+with silver rings around their necks, and broke in for fish-hunting;
+together with ichneumons and pole-cat ferrit, for rat-hunting, and some
+beautiful milk-white Muscovy ducks, and a number of high-bred blood
+mares, foals, colts, fillies, and the two famous horses, the Esterhazy
+and Theodolite, closed this splendid procession; and it is understood
+that on their arrival at Spy Park they were met by the colonel and some
+sporting friends, who expressed their astonishment, that after having
+travelled through such almost impassable roads, amid torrents of rain,
+and particularly the lap-dog beagles, not more than thirteen inches and
+a half in height, and consequently often swimming, they should have
+arrived without the least injury.</p>
+
+<p class="signoff">I am, &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="signature"><span class="smallcaps">a spectator.</span></p>
+<p class="location"><i>Chippenham.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>At Rockdale races, the Brighton shepherd, so well known as a pedestrian,
+was matched against a horse of the honourable captain Harley Rodney&#8217;s
+(rode by lord Rodney), for one hundred yards. This race, from its
+novelty, excited very considerable attention, and was won by the
+shepherd.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A short time since, Rickets, the celebrated Hampshire pedestrian,
+undertook, for a wager of five guineas, to run seventeen miles in two
+hours, which he performed in one hour and forty-nine minutes. He has
+undertaken, for one hundred guineas, to run twenty miles in two hours,
+and will attempt it soon.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>An extraordinary feat of pedestrianism was performed, by a man of the
+name of Williams, steward to Mr. Crouch.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168">168</a></span>
+He was backed for twenty
+guineas, to go twenty miles in two hours. He started at Hammersmith, and
+did the distance in unfavourable weather, in seven minutes within the
+given time. His track was from Colnbrook, and to return to near the
+Magpies.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>THE BUXTON BIT AND CHARLTON BRADOON.</h6>
+
+<p>The former useful as well as elegant appendage to the harness of the
+dashing chariot of the day is just introduced by Charles Buxton, esq.
+The advantages arising from this improvement are obvious: in respect to
+their infallible quality of preventing the numberless accidents which
+daily occur by horses running away, they are peculiarly desirable. These
+bits are made upon a very simple construction; they give the person who
+has the reins in hand, the power of checking the horse by the most easy
+movement imaginable, however light in hand, or hard in mouth (boring on
+the bit) he may be. There are four loops in this regulating bit; in all
+others there is only one. Mr. Buxton very much opposes the principle on
+which lord Hawke, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Thornhill act, with respect to
+the chain, instead of the pole pieces. The Charlton bradoon, a favourite
+for more than twenty years, has lost its consequence by the new
+invention; the bearing rein now passes through the throat lash, but
+formerly it only entered the bit, and went straight to the territ.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>The two divines who rendered themselves so very conspicuous at the late
+punching match, at Moulsey, excuse themselves by observing, that the
+apostolic injunction, &ldquo;a bishop should be no striker,&rdquo; was never
+intended to restrain the conduct of the inferior clergy.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A match was made a short time ago, for one hundred guineas, play or pay,
+for a hack mare, the property of Mr. Sitwell, to perform fifty-six miles
+in four hours, with half an hour stoppage allowed for feeding. The match
+was undertaken soon after, from a spot near Shillingford, Berks, to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169">169</a></span>
+Haunston, and the mare did her task in seven minutes less than the given
+time. She performed chiefly by the trot, and baited after going half the
+distance in three minutes less than half the time. The odds were
+considerably against the performance.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>A HARE CHASED BY A FLOCK OF GEESE!</h6>
+
+<p>A flock of geese belonging to Mr. Lloyd, of the town-house, at Marford,
+seven miles from Chester, lately set a hare on the top of that hill,
+when poor puss, bursting from the cackling tribe, ran down the hill and
+was pursued by the whole flock, some flying, some running with extended
+wings till they overtook her, when puss slyly gave them the double; and,
+returning, was so closely pursued by the irritated flock as to be taken
+alive by a servant-girl of Mrs. Pate&#8217;s, as she was attempting the latch
+in her mistresses garden, in the presence of upwards of twenty
+spectators. Her carcass was afterwards made a present of to a
+wedding-party in that
+<ins class="correction" title="original reads &lsquo;neigbourhood&rsquo;">neighbourhood</ins>.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>THE WALKING-POST.</h6>
+
+<p>The name of this extraordinary person, whose labours surpass any of the
+boasted pedestrian achievements, is William Brackbank. He is a native of
+Millom, in Cumberland. He daily performed the distance between
+Whitehaven and Ulverstone, on foot, under the disagreeable circumstance
+of frequently wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he
+constantly went, which is at least three miles round; and, including the
+different calls he had to make, at a short distance from the road, his
+daily task was not short of forty-seven miles. He is at present
+walking-post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of
+sixteen miles, which he performs every day, Sundays excepted; returns
+the same evening, and personally delivers the letters, newspapers, &amp;c.
+in that populous and commercial county, to all near the road, which
+makes his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards; and
+what is more extraordinary, he has
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170">170</a></span>
+performed this business, for upwards
+of two years, without the intervention of a day, except Sunday, and has
+never varied a quarter of an hour, from his usual time of arriving at
+Glossop. He performs all this in less than twelve hours a day.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A foot-race was run in the park between a lieutenant Hawkey and a Mr.
+Snowden of Nottingham-street. The distance was two hundred yards, the
+stakes fifty guineas, and the performers not being professional runners,
+some betting took place. The race was won by about a yard by Mr.
+Snowden, and the distance was performed in twelve seconds.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>PUGILISM.</h6>
+
+<p>A battle took place at Wilsden Green, between Tom O&#8217;Donnell, and a
+countryman, by trade a boot-closer. They fought forty-five hard rounds,
+in which the countryman got a severe beating. Having boasted before the
+battle that he could beat any man, he left the field of action, as may
+be supposed, a little ashamed of himself.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A severe battle was fought at Marlborough-common, Wilts, by Mr. Howell,
+hatter, and Mr. Titcomb, both of Marlborough. Soon after eight they set
+to, the former seconded by Mr. Mead, collar-maker, and the latter by an
+ostler at the Castle-inn. The first three rounds were in favour of
+Howell, who laughed at his antagonist, and told him if he could not
+strike harder he had better have staid at home; but the fourth round put
+an end to his laughing, having received a left-handed blow on his head,
+which cut his ear, and brought him to the ground; although he never
+recovered this blow, yet he stood twenty-five rounds and showed good
+bottom, but was so exhausted by the loss of blood, and so severely
+beaten in the body as well as his face, that he gave in to Titcomb, who
+said he had no objection to such exercise every morning in the week.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171">171</a></span>
+A pitched battle for one hundred guineas, was fought at Bognor, Bucks,
+between a farmer of the name of Mitchell, who resides at Bognor, and a
+publican of the name of George. The match was made in consequence of a
+dispute respecting their merits as boxers. The battle lasted fifty-five
+minutes, in the presence of about one thousand spectators. It was what a
+professional boxer would have termed gluttony from beginning to ending.
+There was no advantage in skill, strength or bottom, the former of which
+neither of the champions possessed, but it was fighting in earnest at a
+scratch, until one was knocked down. Mitchell at length gave in, but he
+was able to walk away, which was not the case with the victor, who was
+put to bed at the house next the scene of action. The victor was
+seconded by Jones, a professional bruiser from London.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A remarkable instance of the effects of fear on irrational animals
+lately occurred in Blickling Park, Norfolk, during the races there: At
+the very height of sport, a covey of partridges sprang up, and were
+flying across the ground, when overcome with alarm at the noise and
+bustle of the scene, they fell lifeless among the crowded throng, and
+were picked up by some of the spectators.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A singular occurrence lately took place at Cobham church: The earl of
+Darnley was followed there by one of his pointers, which shortly became
+mad, and threw the whole congregation into confusion and alarm. A
+countryman, with great courage, procured a rope, and slipped it round
+the animal&#8217;s neck, and hung him across one of the pews. Fortunately no
+person sustained any injury.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>A most enormous shark was lately caught by the fishermen at Hastings; it
+was entangled in seventeen of their nets, and completely broke them all;
+but being wounded and nearly spent, they contrived to tow on shore this
+monster of the deep. It measures thirty feet in length, and upwards of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172">172</a></span>
+twenty in circumference, and is supposed to weigh at least ten ton; has
+four rows of teeth, and the throat is so large that it could swallow a
+man with the greatest ease. It is considered to be the largest of the
+species ever met with in any of the seas of Europe. Colonel Bothwell has
+purchased it for his friend Mr. Home, the surgeon, of Sackville-street,
+who intends to dissect it, and place the skeleton in his museum.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+<h6>DUCK SHOOTING.</h6>
+
+<h4>FROM &ldquo;FOWLING,&rdquo;&mdash;A POEM.</h4>
+
+<p class="indent"><span class="smallcaps">The</span> shadowy Night has nearly run her course</p>
+<p>Over the silent world&mdash;the cock repeats</p>
+<p>His warning note&mdash;behooves us to prepare</p>
+<p>For our expected sport. Now when the stars</p>
+<p>Slowly decrease, and the faint glimmering light,</p>
+<p>First trembles in the east, we hasten forth,</p>
+<p>To seek the rushing river&#8217;s wandering wave.</p>
+<p>The doubtful gloom shall favour our approach,</p>
+<p>And should we through th&#8217; o&#8217;erhanging bushes view</p>
+<p>The dim-discovered flock, the well-aim&#8217;d shot</p>
+<p>Shall have insur&#8217;d success, nor leave the day</p>
+<p>To be consum&#8217;d in vain. For shy the game,</p>
+<p>Nor easy of access: the fowler&#8217;s toils</p>
+<p>Precarious; but inur&#8217;d to ev&#8217;ry chance,</p>
+<p>We urge those toils with glee. E&#8217;en the broad sun,</p>
+<p>In his meridian brightness, shall not check</p>
+<p>Our steady labour; for some rushy pool,</p>
+<p>Some hollow willowy bank, the skulking birds</p>
+<p>May then conceal, which our stanch dogs shall pierce,</p>
+<p>And drive them clam&#8217;ring forth. Those tow&#8217;ring rocks,</p>
+<p>With nodding wood o&#8217;erhung, that faintly break</p>
+<p>Upon the straining eye, descending deep,</p>
+<p>A hollow basin form, the which receives</p>
+<p>The foaming torrent from above. Around</p>
+<p>Thick alders grow. We steal upon the spot</p>
+<p>With cautious step, and peering out, survey</p>
+<p>The restless flood. No object meets our eye.</p>
+<p>But hark what sound is that approaching near,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Down close,&rdquo; The wild-ducks come, and darting down,</p>
+<p>Throw up on ev&#8217;ry side the troubled wave;</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173">173</a></span>
+<p>Then gayly swim around with idle play,</p>
+<p>With breath restrain&#8217;d, and palpitating heart,</p>
+<p>I view their movements, whilst my well-taught dogs</p>
+<p>Like lifeless statues crouch. Now is the time,</p>
+<p>Closer they join; nor will the growing light</p>
+<p>Admit of more delay&mdash;with fiery burst,</p>
+<p>The unexpected death invades the flock;</p>
+<p>Tumbling they lie, and beat the dashing pool,</p>
+<p>Whilst those remoter from the fatal range</p>
+<p>Of the swift shot, mount up on vig&#8217;rous wing,</p>
+<p>And wake the sleeping echoes as they fly.</p>
+<p>Quick on the floating spoil my spaniels rush,</p>
+<p>And drag them to the shore.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<h4><a name="misc" id="misc"></a>MISCELLANY.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">A more</span> lively and yet poignant satire upon the wilful corruption of the
+stage, the degeneracy of the public taste, and the reigning follies of
+the British nation can scarcely be imagined than the following, which,
+with several more under the same signature, has appeared in a celebrated
+periodical work in London.</p>
+
+<p class="heading"><i>To the right worshipful John Bull, of the united kingdom of Great
+Britain and Ireland.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">respected sir</span>,</p>
+
+<p>Denied access to your sacred person, I avail myself of the press to
+solicit your notice. You have, doubtless, by this time totally forgotten
+poor Theobaldus Secundus, for short memories are not the exclusive
+property of great wits. Truth is said to lie at the bottom of a well,
+and as your worship seldom looks beyond the surface, I am not surprised
+that she should hitherto have eluded your researches. If fate has
+ordained my inkstand to be the bucket that shall draw her from her
+watery grave for your edification, I expect a premium
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174">174</a></span>
+from your humane
+society for my pains. If not, &ldquo;you may kill the next Percy yourself.&rdquo; I
+am now to solicit your patience, while I recount my adventures, in doing
+which I shall ape the dignity rather than the prolixity, of the runaway
+prince of Troy, when seated on the high bed of the enamoured queen of
+Carthage.</p>
+
+<p>I am, may it please your worship, grand nephew to the renowned Lewis
+Theobald, one of those numerous broth-spoiling commentators, who have
+smothered poor Shakspeare in the onion sauce of conjectural criticism.
+My great uncle was, with reverence be it spoken, a great blockhead; but
+that was no fault of his, he being a younger brother, and the family
+genius being vested in my grandfather, with remainder to his sons in
+tail male. From my earliest childhood I have looked upon Shakspeare as
+the real king of England, and the two winter theatres as his proper
+palaces. &ldquo;The period spent on stubborn Troy,&rdquo; has now elapsed, since I
+began a commentary on the plays of our immortal bard. O, the rivers of
+ink that I have exhausted in cleansing his Augean page from the
+black-letter filth heaped upon it by his different commentators! The
+task was laborious, but such labour is my delight. The waters of Avon
+suit my palate better than Boniface&#8217;s ale. &ldquo;I eat my Shakspeare, I drink
+my Shakspeare, and (when certain players enact him) I always sleep upon
+my Shakspeare.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Apollo was a doctor of physic as well as a doctor of divinity, and
+Dryden, we are told, took his physic whenever he wanted to borrow his
+inspiration. A dramatic writer of the present day writes tragedy in a
+helmet facing a mirror. Ever while you live encourage the imagination!
+My faith in Shakspeare is so unbounded, that I verily believe the
+hell-broth of Macbeth&#8217;s witches would, if properly mixed, engender a
+real armed head and bloody child. I lately at a great expense, collected
+all the materials in my kitchen-copper; I must own the experiment failed;
+but I found out the cause. The resurrection man, whom I employed to get
+me the &ldquo;liver of blaspheming Jew,&rdquo; had made free with the corpse of a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175">175</a></span>
+very religious man of that persuasion. I must be more careful
+another time&mdash;but this is foreign to our present purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Having completed my commentary, my parched hopes sighed for the golden
+shower, which I expected from presenting my dedication to your worship.
+The times were tempting, your two winter playhouses were at that time
+experiencing a nightly overflow, and a Tragedy was, as she should be,
+all the rage! I knew not the cause, but rejoicing in the effect, huddled
+my manuscript into my great-coat pocket, and trotted to your residence
+in Portland-place. For be it known, sir, to those whom it may concern,
+(your tradesmen) that you no longer reside within five minutes&#8217; walk of
+the Royal Exchange. Formerly you passed your evenings in posting your
+leger, and shaking your head at the follies of Fashion; you now exhaust
+that portion of the day in posting to the opera, or shaking your heels
+at Willis&#8217;s rooms, and your elbows at the Union Club. If I felt pleased
+at finding you at home, how was my satisfaction increased, by hearing
+from a yellow-bellied waspish footman that you were busy with the first
+tragedian of the day? Good! said I to myself, this must be Kemble: there
+is no man better able to appreciate my labours&mdash;I&#8217;ll break in upon them
+without ceremony. On approaching your worship&#8217;s door, I heard the words
+&ldquo;knuckle down&rdquo; articulated in a shrill voice. I thought this an odd
+exclamation for the first tragedian of the day; but how was I petrified
+with astonishment, on entering the room, to find you on your knees,
+playing at marbles with the little Roscius! Speechless with admiration I
+retired unperceived. To have deranged a single taw would, in my mind,
+have been a sacrilege as great as an attempt to upset the balance of the
+Copernican system. I had scarce time to reflect on your improvement in
+dramatic taste, when I learned that you had engaged a Roscia at your
+theatre in Covent-Garden. Indeed, so wide had your love of the rising
+generation at that time extended, I was credibly informed that Genoa was
+on the point of shipping a squalling Roscium for the edification of your
+opera-house, when the bubble burst like the gas of the Pall-Mall
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176">176</a></span>
+lamp-lighter: Reason&#8217;s dragon-teeth had been buried long enough, and a
+race of men succeeded. The worshipful John Bull acted the part of the
+cow, in Tom Thumb. Ridicule, that infallible emetic of sick minds, had
+eased your stomach of its baby incumbrance; Miss Mudie returned to her
+mamma, and Master Betty also retired to break Priscian&#8217;s head, and hide
+his own in the bosom of alma mater.</p>
+
+<p>How elastic is hope when a man thinks he has written a good book, and
+what mortal ever supposed himself the author of a bad one? <i>Quassas
+reficit rates.</i> I again collected my darling notes on Shakspeare, and in
+the firm hope that your stomach was well disposed to its natural
+aliment, assaulted your door with face as brazen as the knocker I
+handled. It was Saturday night, and your yellow barouche was waiting at
+the door, but I confidently reckoned upon five minutes&#8217; conversation
+with you, ere you repaired to the evening lecture, to which I concluded
+a sober man like you was about to adjourn. While hesitating upon the fit
+mode to address you, a figure descended the stairs, which, at first
+sight, I mistook for an Alguazil, in a plethora, but upon nearer
+approach found to be your worshipful self, posting to the opera, clad in
+a great-coat of the newest cut, all fringe and frippery, the offspring
+of a German tailor. You and your cloak were so enveloped in frogs and
+self-conceit, that I could compare you to nothing but king Pharaoh,
+inoculated with a plague greater than any in Egypt, an Italian singer.
+After desiring me in a surly tone, to call tomorrow morning, your
+worship mounted your vehicle, and scampered away to the region of
+recitative. O, cried I, in bitterness of spirit, why has John Bull, my
+revered patron, quitted his city residence? in his warehouse he has
+bales of cotton in abundance, and might, like the wise Ulysses, stuff
+his large and long ears with a portion of that commodity, to enable him
+to escape the snares of the Haymarket syren.</p>
+
+<p>Those who have patrons must also have patience. I dissembled my chagrin,
+and you may remember, most worshipful sir, that I called the ensuing
+day, at two o&#8217;clock, to allow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177">177</a></span>
+you time to ponder on the morning&#8217;s
+service. Alas! I was now fated to be forestalled by a son of France, as
+I had before been by a daughter of Italy. Both kingdoms boast the same
+emperor, and their natives come hither upon the same embassy. While I
+and Shakspeare were kicking our heels in the hall, you and Mons.
+Deshayes were kicking yours before a pier glass in the drawing-room. I
+had soon the satisfaction to observe your worship endeavouring to
+imitate the te-totum pirouettes of that agile gentleman, in doing which
+you bore a much stronger resemblance to the dervise in the Arabian Tale,
+inasmuch, as after spinning some time, you threw down a purse, which the
+wily foreigner, as light of finger as of foot, did not fail to pocket.
+This, to be sure was no time for Shakspeare; I, therefore, left your
+worship, hoodwinked by the Frenchman, <i>so turn about three times and
+catch whom you may</i>.</p>
+
+<p>I now sported the sullens in dignified retirement&mdash;but it would not do:
+murder will out, and so will manuscripts. I resolved to make one more
+effort. But were I to bring to your recollection all the mortifying
+repulses I endured, I should quite destroy that patience of which you
+stand so much in need, to listen to the debates at the next meeting of
+your common council. At one time, naked from the waist upwards, you were
+waging war with Belcher, the <i>Hittite</i>: at another, you had taken an
+invisible girl into keeping: your cash was drained by lotteries,
+missionaries, and mountebanks of all sorts and sizes: boys, even the
+deaf, the dumb, and the blind, quitted their asylum in St. George&#8217;s
+Fields, for a more lucrative one on the boards of your theatres. Your
+comic operas were, like Muzio Clementi&#8217;s carts, mere vehicles for music,
+and vehicles withal of such a clumsy fabric, that poor Euterpe, when she
+took her nightly airings, reminded the spectator of Punch&#8217;s wife in a
+wheelbarrow; every expense was incurred, and every scribbler taken into
+pay, except poor Shakspeare and his poorer commentator.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, about eleven o&#8217;clock, as I was indulging myself in a
+solitary ramble over Blackfriars-bridge, I espied
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178">178</a></span>
+your well-known
+barouche, which I followed, and observed to stop at the Elephant and
+Castle! Heighday! said I, this is a metamorphosis indeed! John Bull has
+returned to nature at last. He prefers &ldquo;the sanded floor that grits
+beneath the tread,&rdquo; to a Persian carpet, and a pot of porter to the
+&ldquo;wines of France and milk of Burgundy.&rdquo; I&#8217;ll go and smoke a pipe with
+him! here again I was in error, your carriage having passed the
+public-house, and stopped at a methodist meeting adjoining. It seems
+your worship had, with religious abhorrence, passed by the Elephant and
+Castle, but borrowing in part the imagery of that sign, had converted
+your half-reasoning self into a clumsy Christian
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">pedler</ins>, with a bundle
+of contraband goods at your back. One Joanna, it seems, was the
+priestess of this temple, and your worship had commenced so strong a
+flirtation with the Lambeth sybil, that all the world looked upon
+wedlock as inevitable. As I stood in the porch, I overheard your amatory
+sighs and groans which sounded in my ears like Boreas wooing Vulcan
+through a cranny in a chimney-corner. On approaching your pew, how was I
+struck with the change in your physiognomy! Your face heretofore as red
+and round as the full moon, had, by the joint influence of that planet
+and the aforesaid Joanna, extended itself to a length, which Momus
+forbid mine should ever attain, unless when reflected from a
+table-spoon, at the Piazza coffee-house!</p>
+
+<p>It was now confidently reported, that the days of Jeremy Collier had
+returned: that the theatres were to be shut up, his majesty&#8217;s servants
+to receive their arrears of scarlet cloth, for regimentals to serve him
+in the capacity of foot-soldiers: that the slayers of Syntax, who had
+stuffed their mouths with melo-drames, and other pernicious compounds,
+were to turn hewers of wood, and that your worship would license no
+pantomimes, except those exhibited in the Blackfriars and
+Tottenham-court roads.</p>
+
+<p>This intelligence rather pleased than alarmed me. I believed it only to
+a certain extent, conceiving the fact to be, that my respected patron
+was sick of silk banners and Peruvian
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179">179</a></span>
+suns, exhausting more gold than
+they engendered, and that a ray of true taste was hereafter to dawn upon
+the dramatic horizon. &ldquo;The theatre,&rdquo; exclaimed I, &ldquo;is the school of
+morality; and morality and religion are inseparable.&rdquo; Without stopping
+to prove my syllogism, I seized my commentary, and with a head and a
+great-coat pocket full of my immortal labours, called once more in
+Portland-place. You received me with civility, desired me to take a
+seat, and treated me with a cup of chocolate, declining to take any
+yourself, on account of a nausea at your stomach, which I ascribed to a
+certain sentimental pill you had lately swallowed, rolled up in the
+shape of a comedy, and for which I undertook to prescribe. You requested
+me with eagerness to do so, and I drew my manuscript from my pocket,
+thinking the golden moment at hand. I conjured you to consider, that in
+dramatic entertainments the love of show was like the love of money, and
+increased by indulgences, beyond the power of a manager to gratify: I
+proved by mathematical demonstration, that small theatres wanted nothing
+but good dialogue to support them: I entreated you to send your gorgeous
+trumpery to rag-fair, and to diminish your overgrown Drury, which no man
+could now think of entering unaccompanied by a telescope and an
+ear-trumpet. All the persuasions of a Tully, all the energy of a
+Waithman, were enlisted into my harangue; which finished by exhorting
+your worship to step back half a century in your dramatic career, to a
+period when theatrical property was somewhat more than a mouthful of
+moonshine;&mdash;when Shakspeare was, indeed as he should be, and when
+nothing was talked of in this great metropolis, save the great Goliath
+of Stratford, on the banks of the Avon, and little David, of the
+Adelphic terrace, on the banks of the Thames.</p>
+
+<p>This eloquent harangue was no sooner concluded, than your worship burst
+into a horse-laugh, and stamping your foot on the floor, the room was
+instantly filled with as motley a group as ever giggled decorum out of
+countenance at a masquerade: among whom I recognized a zany, with a blue
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180">180</a></span>
+perriwig, bestriding a large goose, and brandishing a golden egg,
+whilst your worship was clapping your hands in all the raptures of
+applause. &ldquo;Perdition seize this fellow,&rdquo; cried your worship, pointing to
+me, &ldquo;his tongue chatters like a cherry-clapper, and lies like the
+prospectus of a new magazine! All you, my pimps, parasites, and
+pensioners&mdash;my leading mistresses and led captain&mdash;my mummers and
+melo-dramatists, who conspire to drill holes in the breeches-pockets of
+John Bull, that his coin may not corrode for want of circulation; if
+ever this fellow enters my house again, with his deer-stealing Stratford
+vagabond under his arm, tie them both up in a hopsack, and throw them
+into the Thames<ins class="correction" title="no closing quotation mark in text">!</ins></p>
+
+<p>Such treatment, sir, I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.
+When I expected the golden apple,&mdash;to be then pelted with a golden egg,
+was too much for human endurance; I, therefore, took my leave with the
+following address: &ldquo;May your worship&#8217;s stage be glutted with monsters,
+running upon all fours, with your own taste! May wit and humour wing
+their flight to another region, and the mighty void be supplied by
+maukish sentiment, horse-collar grins, wood-demons, and other
+show-cattle of the Smithfield muses! May you be visited by a locust
+tribe of scribblers, who shall conspire to torment that groaning martyr,
+the Press, with ducal lampoons, drowsy epics, and zig-zag heroics! With
+Hope the upholsterer, and Bryon the idler, with Joe Miller in quarto,
+Genius in thin duodecimo, Leadenhall romances, and Puritan biography:
+and should your worship ever find yourself deviating from the path of
+virtue, may <i>Hannah Glasse</i> preserve your temperance, <i>Hannah More</i> your
+soberness, and <i>Anacreon Moore</i> your chastity!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One word more, sir, and I take my leave. It was the opinion of Ophelia&#8217;s
+grave digger, that your worship was to the full as mad as the
+hare-brained lover of that young lady. This circumstance gives that
+royal youth a title to your first regards: my annotations on <i>Hamlet,
+Prince of Denmark</i>, shall accordingly be submitted to your consideration
+at our next monthly meeting,</p>
+
+<p class="signoff">I am, &amp;c.,</p>
+<p class="signature"><span class="smallcaps">Theobaldus Secundus.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181">181</a></span></p>
+
+<h6>DR. YOUNG.&mdash;THE BROTHERS.</h6>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Young</span>, the celebrated author of the Night Thoughts, wrote a tragedy
+called the Brothers, and appropriated the profits of his third nights of
+the representation for the benefit of some public charity. But the
+proceeds falling short of one thousand pounds, which he had expected
+would have been raised in this way, he very bountifully supplied the
+deficiency by an additional donation.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>OTHELLO BURLESQUED.</h6>
+
+<p>There was formerly in the Northern Liberties a petty theatre, called
+Noah&#8217;s Ark, from its being in the neighbourhood of a tavern, of which
+that was the sign. A ludicrous circumstance took place there about
+twenty years ago; a hobble-de-hoy, of the name of Purcell, with a wizen
+face like &ldquo;Death and Sin,&rdquo; having met with misfortunes, hired the
+theatre for one night, and advertised Othello for his benefit. He played
+himself the character of the valiant Moor. As he had many friends who
+made considerable exertions in his favour, the house was crowded. His
+acting was so truly ludicrous, that the audience instead of letting fall
+the pearly drops over their cheeks, were in an unceasing roar of
+laughter. Between the play and the farce a drunken fellow of the name of
+Vaughan was to deliver the celebrated epilogue of &ldquo;Bucks, have at ye
+all.&rdquo; He had made the most solemn promise to abstain from his usual drop
+of grog till he had performed his tour of duty. But alas! poor human
+nature, like other great men, he yielded to the temptation of a flowing
+bowl. When he came on the stage, and had just made a beginning&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Ye social friends&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A slight hiss was heard, which enraged him so much that he stopped, and
+looked among the audience with indignation, trying to discover what
+jealous rival was endeavouring to discompose him&mdash;a silence ensued for a
+minute; Vaughan then began again:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Ye social friends of claret and of wit,</p>
+<p>Where&#8217;er dispersed in merry groupes ye sit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182">182</a></span>
+About ten or a dozen persons then hissed pretty loudly. Vaughan stamped
+on the floor, clenched his fist, struck his thigh, and cried out in a
+loud voice, &ldquo;damn you, ye black-guards&mdash;I wish I had you here&mdash;I&#8217;d soon
+settle you.&rdquo; A universal hiss took place&mdash;the enraged orator was pelted
+off the stage, and poor Purcell had to come forward and make an apology.
+In this extemporaneous effort, his success was as splendid as in his
+performance of Othello. He hoped, he said, the ladies and gentlemen
+would not go for to say, for to do, for to think that he was at all to
+blame&mdash;that it was all Dr. Vaughan&#8217;s fault&mdash;for though he had promised
+to keep sober till the play was over, he had got as drunk as David&#8217;s sow
+before it began. This elegant harangue produced the desired effect, and
+appeased the angry passions of the gods and goddesses. A parley ensued.
+Peace was made. A promise was given that Vaughan should be allowed to
+proceed without hissing&mdash;and he accordingly came out and recited the
+epilogue, now and again looking among the audience to discover who was
+murmuring a slight hiss, which the keen ears of the speaker would not
+let escape. As soon as he was done, he had the high gratification of a
+universal hiss from almost every individual in the house, and was once
+more pelted off in spite of all his ire and loudly vociferated threats.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>VANDERMERE.</h6>
+
+<p>This performer was the most complete Harlequin that ever trod the
+British stage. His agility was to the last degree astonishing. He has
+leaped through a window on the stage, when pursued by the clown, full
+thirteen feet high. Whenever he was in the play-bills in Dublin, he
+attracted crowded houses. One night, when he had a prodigious leap to
+perform, the persons behind the scenes who were to have received him in
+a blanket, were not prepared in time, and of course he fell on the
+boards, and was miserably bruised. He then took a most solemn oath, that
+he would never leap again on the stage. Nor did he violate his oath.
+Thenceforward,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183">183</a></span>
+when he performed Harlequin, George Dawson, another
+actor about his size, and very active, was attired in the party-coloured
+robes. Whenever in the course of the pantomime a leap was requisite,
+Vandermere passed off on one side&mdash;Dawson came in on the other, and
+leaped. Then Vandermere returned and went through the Harlequinian
+tricks.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+<h6>A TRUE STORY.</h6>
+
+<p class="indent">In days of yore, th&#8217; historic page</p>
+<p>Says, women were proscrib&#8217;d the stage;</p>
+<p>And boys and men in petticoats</p>
+<p>Play&#8217;d female parts with Stentor&#8217;s notes.</p>
+<p>The cap, the stays, the high-heel&#8217;d shoe,</p>
+<p>The &#8217;kerchief and the bonnet too,</p>
+<p>With apron as the lily white,</p>
+<p>Put all the male attire to flight&mdash;</p>
+<p>The culotte, waistcoat, and cravat,</p>
+<p>The bushy wig, and gold-trimm&#8217;d hat.</p>
+<p>Ye gods! behold! what high burlesque,</p>
+<p>Jane Shore and Juliet thus grotesque!</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>King Charles one night, jocund and gay,</p>
+<p>To Drury went, to see a play&mdash;</p>
+<p>Kynaston was to act a queen&mdash;</p>
+<p>But to his tonsor he&#8217;d not been:</p>
+<p>He was a mirth-inspiring soul</p>
+<p>Who lov&#8217;d to quaff the flowing bowl&mdash;</p>
+<p>And on his way the wight had met</p>
+<p>A roaring bacchanalian set;</p>
+<p>With whom he to &ldquo;<i>the Garter</i>&rdquo; hies,</p>
+<p>Regardless how time slyly flies.</p>
+<p>And while he circulates the glass,</p>
+<p>Too rapidly the moments pass;</p>
+<p>At length in haste the prompter sends.</p>
+<p>And tears Kynaston from his friends;</p>
+<p>Tho&#8217; he&#8217;d much rather there remain,</p>
+<p>He hurries on to Drury Lane.</p>
+<p>When in the green-room he appear&#8217;d,</p>
+<p>He scar&#8217;d them with his bushy beard,</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184">184</a></span>
+<p>The barber quick his razor strops,</p>
+<p>And lather&#8217;d well <i>her royal chops</i>:</p>
+<p>While he the stubble mow&#8217;d away,</p>
+<p>The audience curs&#8217;d such long delay:</p>
+<p>They scream&#8217;d&mdash;they roar&#8217;d&mdash;they loudly bawl&#8217;d.</p>
+<p>And with their cat-calls <i>sweetly</i> squall&#8217;d:</p>
+<p>Th&#8217; impatient monarch storm&#8217;d and rav&#8217;d&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The queen, dread sire, is not quite shav&#8217;d</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Was bellow&#8217;d by the prompter loud&mdash;</p>
+<p>This cogent reason was allow&#8217;d</p>
+<p>As well by king as noisy crowd.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>VOLTAIRE&#8217;S IDEA OF ORIGINALITY IN WRITING.</h6>
+
+<p>A young poet having consulted him on a tragedy full of extraordinary
+incidents, Voltaire pointed out to him the defects of his piece. The
+writer replied, that he had purposely forsaken the beaten track of
+Corneille and Racine. &ldquo;So much the worse,&rdquo; replied Voltaire,
+&ldquo;originality is nothing but judicious imitation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>One day when his Irene was performing at the house of the marquis de
+Villette, a celebrated actress reciting her part rather negligently,
+Voltaire said to her, &ldquo;Really, mademoiselle, it is unnecessary for me to
+write verses of six feet, if you gulp down three of them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<p>On the performance of one of his tragedies, the success of which was
+equivocal, the abbe Pellegrin complained loudly that Voltaire had stolen
+some verses from him. &ldquo;How can you, who are so rich,&rdquo; said the abbe,
+&ldquo;thus seize upon the property of another?&rdquo; &ldquo;What! have I stolen from
+you?&rdquo; replied Voltaire; &ldquo;then I no longer wonder that my piece has met
+with so little approbation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>KNOW THYSELF.</h6>
+
+<p>There is an anecdote related in the Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV,
+which reflects some credit on that monarch&#8217;s understanding, and may be
+of service to multitudes of the <i>bourgeoisie</i> of every city in the
+world, if properly digested and acted upon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185">185</a></span>
+A <i>negociant</i>, who took the lead of all the rest in Paris, was in
+particular favour with the king, and without formality consulted by him,
+in all that he wished to know relating to mercantile affairs. At length
+the man of the counting-house, whose wealth was enormous, felt his
+ambition excited, and nothing would content him but a <i>title</i>. After
+many fruitless overtures, Louis at last granted his request, and never
+treated him with friendly familiarity again. The trader, exceedingly
+hurt at this neglect, made free one day to inquire the cause. &ldquo;It is
+your own fault,&rdquo; said the monarch, &ldquo;you have degraded yourself&mdash;you were
+the first as a merchant&mdash;you are the lowest as a peer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>MADAME MARE AND FLORIO.</h6>
+
+<p>This once celebrated singer has, according to German papers, retired to
+an estate in Poland. During her late residence at Moscow, her companion
+Florio, was involved in a very unpleasant affair. A letter, signed
+Richard Florio, written in French, and filled with invectives against
+the Russian government, was put into the post office at St. Petersburgh.
+The person it was addressed to handed it over to the police. Florio was
+arrested at Moscow, and conveyed prisoner to St. Petersburgh. Here,
+however he was speedily released, his name being not Richard, but
+Charles, and it appearing that he was totally ignorant of the French
+language. The emperor Alexander overhearing of the circumstances, made
+Florio a present of a handsome sum of money, over and above the expenses
+he had been put to in his journey from Moscow.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h6>LEWIS&#8217;S RETIREMENT FROM THE STAGE.</h6>
+
+<p>That celebrated comedian, the inimitable <span class="smallcaps">Lewis</span>, retired from the stage
+in May last, to devote the residue of his days to tranquil domestic
+enjoyment. His talents and prudence have enabled him to sit down with
+property sufficient for all the rational purposes of life. Since his
+retirement he made a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186">186</a></span>
+transfer in the bank of five thousand pounds to
+each of his three daughters, and now, say the wits of London, many a
+Bassanio will doubtless say, their</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="insetbig"><i>Sunny</i> locks</p>
+<p>Hang on their temples like a golden fleece.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was on the night of his own benefit that Mr. Lewis took a formal and
+final farewell of the public, under circumstances so honourable to him
+as no actor, perhaps has ever been able to boast of. <i>During the
+thirty-six years he had been a player, he had never once fallen under
+the displeasure of his audience.</i> The play was &ldquo;Rule a Wife and have a
+Wife,&rdquo; in which he performed <span class="smallcaps">the Copper Captain</span>. After the comedy, when
+the curtain dropped, Mr. Lewis came forward and addressed the house in
+the following words:</p>
+
+<div class="address">
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smallcaps">ladies and gentlemen</span>,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have the honour of addressing you for the last time. This is the
+close of my theatrical life; (loud cries of no! no!) and I really
+feel so overcome by taking leave forever of my friends and patrons;
+that might it not be deemed disrespectful or negligent I could wish
+to decline it; (Loud applause, and a cry of go on! go on!) but it
+is a duty which I owe, and I will attempt to pay it, conscious I
+shall meet your indulgence; for when I remind you that I have been
+thirty-six years in your service, and cannot recollect to have
+fallen once under your displeasure, my dramatic death cannot be met
+by me without the strongest emotions of regret and gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should offer my acknowledgments for innumerable acts of kindness
+shown to my earliest days, and your yet kinder acceptance of, and
+partiality shown to my latest efforts; all these I powerfully feel,
+though I have not the words to express those feelings.&mdash;&mdash;But while
+this heart has a sensation it will beat with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen, with the greatest respect, and, if you will
+admit the word, the sincerest affection, I bid you farewell.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187">187</a></span>
+During the delivery of this address, Mr. Lewis was evidently much
+affected. His voice faultered, and the tear started from his eye. The
+audience were also much affected at this parting scene, and took leave
+of their favourite with loud and universal acclamations. The house was
+crowded to excess.</p>
+
+<p>Thus (says the London writer) every hour is seen stealing from this
+stock of harmless pleasure, and our theatrical register serves only to
+record our losses. What can we put in balance against the death of
+Parsons, Suett, Palmer, and King, and the retirement of Mrs. Mattocks,
+Miss Pope, and Mr. Lewis?&mdash;Nothing. What is there in prospect?&mdash;the
+further loss of Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Jordan. These two stars of the
+first magnitude will also soon be missing in the theatrical hemisphere,
+and where is he who can say that he has discovered any promise that this
+light will, in our time, be repaired?&mdash;Nowhere.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;The greatest fires are out, and glimmering night succeeds.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>On his taking a final leave of the Dublin stage, Mr. Lewis spoke the
+following address:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>From ten years old till now near fifty-six,</p>
+<p>Of all I&#8217;ve gained, the <i>origin</i> I fix</p>
+<p><i>Here on this fav&#8217;rite spot</i>; when first I came</p>
+<p>A trembling candidate for scenic fame,</p>
+<p>In numbers <i>lisping, here</i> that course began</p>
+<p>Which, through your early aid, has smoothly ran;</p>
+<p>Here too, returning from your sister land,</p>
+<p>Oft have I met your smile, your lib&#8217;ral hand:</p>
+<p>Oft as I came Hibernia still has shown</p>
+<p>That hospitality so much her own.</p>
+<p>But <i>now</i> the prompter, <i>Time</i>, with warning bell,</p>
+<p>Reminds me that I come to bid farewell!</p>
+<p>With usual joy this visit I should pay,</p>
+<p>But <i>here</i>, adieu is very hard to say.</p>
+<p>Yet take my thanks for thousand favours past&mdash;</p>
+<p>My wishes that your welfare long may last&mdash;</p>
+<p>My promise that, though Time upon this face</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188">188</a></span>
+<p>May make his annual marks, no time can chase</p>
+<p>Your memory here, while memory here has place.</p>
+<p>My meaning is sincere, though plainly spoke&mdash;</p>
+<p>My heart, like yours, I hope, is heart of oak;</p>
+<p>And that although the bark, through years, may fail ye,</p>
+<p>The trunk was, is, and will be true shillaly.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<h6>MAN AND WIFE.</h6>
+
+<p class="heading"><i>The Comedy annexed to this number.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">The</span> favourable reception which this comedy met in London, will no doubt
+induce the managers of America to produce it on their boards. For <i>this
+reason</i> it has been selected by the editors.</p>
+
+<p>In the general reception of this comedy on the stage, the author has
+been more successful than in the judgment it has received from the
+press. Of the criticisms which have appeared in the London publications,
+we have seen two, which disagree with each other on its merits. That the
+reception by a large audience and the opinion of a critic should differ,
+is not at all surprising. In the present instance one of those critics
+is at complete variance with the audience, and says &ldquo;it is as dull as
+the ministerial benches, and yet as patriotic as the opposition.&rdquo; The
+editors reserve their opinion till they see it acted.</p>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<h4>CORRESPONDENCE.</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smallcaps">The</span> conductors thank &ldquo;<span class="smallcaps">Dramaticus</span>&rdquo; for his communications, to which they
+will pay the proper attention. Though the series for the month of
+February is complete, they have made room for four of the articles with
+which he has favoured them.</p>
+
+</div> <!-- end div censor -->
+
+<h4><a name="footnotes" id="footnotes">Footnotes</a></h4>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<p><a class="note" name="note1" id="note1" href="#tag1">1.</a>
+Had Mr. Cooper entered on the profession in the days of
+Garrick, we are persuaded he would, with the advantage of that great man
+as a model, and the scientific Macklin as an instructor, have been one
+of the first actors that ever existed.</p>
+
+<p><a class="note"  name="note2" id="note2" href="#tag2">2.</a>
+Perhaps!!! Mr. Wood we dare say has too much good sense to
+relish this <i>perhaps</i>, it rather savours of irony.</p>
+
+<p><a class="note"  name="note3" id="note3" href="#tag3">3.</a>
+See Hist. Mem. of the Irish Bards.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="index">
+
+<div class="mynote">
+
+<p>The printed book contained the six Numbers of Volume I with their
+appended plays. The Index (unpaginated) originally appeared at the
+beginning of the volume. Index references are linked internally (e.g.
+<a class="internal" href="#page155">155</a>) to the appropriate page
+in this Number, and externally (e.g.
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a>)
+to pages in earlier Numbers. The six Numbers of Volume I contain the
+following pages:</p>
+
+<p class="inset">
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22488">Volume I, Number 1</a>: pp. 1-108<br />
+Volume I, Number 2: pp. 109-188<br />
+Volume I, Number 3: pp. 189-268<br />
+Volume I, Number 4: pp. 269-348<br />
+Volume I, Number 5: pp. 349-430<br />
+Volume I, Number 6: pp. 431-510</p>
+
+<p>The six plays were printed as a group and are not included in this
+pagination.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<h4><a name="index" id="index">INDEX.</a></h4>
+
+<table class="index" summary="index in two columns">
+<tr>
+<td style="width:50%">
+
+<p class="letterhead">A</p>
+
+<p>Actors, animadversion on</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Wood</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+in Rapid, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Rolla, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page65">65</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Reuben Glenroy, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page67">67</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Harry Dornton, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page73">73</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Bob Handy, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page76">76</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Alonzo, 229, 337</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Jaffier, 337</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Copper Captain, 339</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Prince of Wales, 339.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Cone</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Alonzo, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page65">65</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Henry, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page76">76</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Warren</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Las Casas, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page65">65</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Abel Handy, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page76">76</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Falstaff, 344</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Cacafogo, 344.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Jefferson</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Frank Oatland, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Orozimbo, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page65">65</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Cosey, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page67">67</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Goldfinch, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page73">73</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Farmer Ashfield, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page75">75</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">M&#8216;Kenzie</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Sir Hubert Stanley, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Pizarro, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page65">65</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Old Norval, <a class="internal" href="#page155">155</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Francis</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Vortex, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Trot, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page68">68</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Wood</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Jessy Oatland, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Cora, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page66">66</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Francis</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Mrs. Vortex, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Dame Ashfield, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page76">76</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Seymour</span>, <a href=
+"https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a>.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Payne</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+in Douglas, <a class="internal" href="#page145">145</a></p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Octavian, 220</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Frederick, 221</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Zaphna and Selim, 222</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Tancred, 222</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Romeo, 223.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Cooper</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Othello, 225</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Zanga, 227</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Richard, 230</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Pierre, 230</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Hamlet, 231</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Macbeth, 231</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Hotspur, 234</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Michael Ducas, 234</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Alexander, 422</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Antony, Jul. C&aelig;s. 420.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">West</span>, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page68">68</a>,
+bis.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<span class="smallcaps">Dwyer</span>,</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Belcour, 425</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Tangent, 427</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Ranger, 427</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Vapid, 427</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Liar, 427</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Rapid, 427</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+Sir Charles Racket, 427.</p>
+<p>Advice to conductors of magazines, 402</p>
+<p>&AElig;schylus, <a class="internal" href="#page114">114</a>, 189</p>
+<p>Alleyn, the player, account of, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page45">45</a></p>
+<p>Anecdotes and good things</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Dick the Hunter, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page92">92</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Dr. Young, <a class="internal" href="#page181">181</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Othello burlesqued, <a class="internal" href="#page181">181</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Voltaire, <a class="internal" href="#page184">184</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Louis XIV. <a class="internal" href="#page184">184</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Mara and Florio, <a class="internal" href="#page185">185</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Macklin, 247, 248, 397, 408, 409</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Mozart, the composer, 257</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Old Wignell, 343</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Macklin and Foote, 397</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Impertinent <i>Petit Maitre</i>, 406</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Curious Slip Slop, 406</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Specific for blindness, 407</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Kemble and a stage tyro, 407</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Kemble&#8217;s bon mot on Sydney playhouse, 407</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Irish forgery, 407</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Woman and country magistrate, 408</p>
+<p class="indent">
+French dramatic, 481</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Bacon and cabbage, 485.</p>
+<p>Apparition, sable or mysterious bell-rope, 325</p>
+<p>Aristophanes, 269</p>
+<p>Authors&#8217; benefits</p>
+<p class="indent">
+see Southern, 502</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">B</p>
+
+<p>Barry, the great player, account of, 298</p>
+<p>Bedford, duke of, monument, 317</p>
+<p>Betterton, the great actor, <a class="internal" href="#page133">133</a>, 213</p>
+<p>Biography, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page24">24</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page118">118</a>, 202, 357</p>
+<p>Bull, a dramatic one, 505</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">C</p>
+
+<p>Carlisle, countess of, opinion of drama, 398</p>
+<p>Catalani, madam, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page96">96</a></p>
+<p>Cibber, Colley, his merit, 506</p>
+<p>Coffee and Chocolate, account of, 311</p>
+<p>Cone, see actors</p>
+<p>Cooper, life of, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page28">28</a></p>
+<p>Cooper, see actors</p>
+<p>Cooper, account of his acting, 223</p>
+<p>Correspondence</p>
+<p class="indent">
+on abuses of the Theatre, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page103">103</a>,
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page104">104</a></p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, from Baltimore on Theatricals, <a class="internal" href="#page157">157</a></p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, from New-York, ditto, 414</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">D</p>
+
+<p>Dramatic Censor, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page49">49</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page141">141</a>, 220, 337, 414</p>
+<p>Drama, Grecian, <a class="internal" href="#page109">109</a>, 189, 269, 350</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, lady Carlisle&#8217;s opinion on, 398</p>
+<p>Dwyer, actor, 235</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, see actors.</p>
+<p>Dramaticus, 251, 328, 502</p>
+<p>Dungannon, famous horse, 500</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">E</p>
+
+<p>Edenhall, luck of, old ballad, 487</p>
+<p>Edward and Eleonora, remarks on, 502</p>
+<p>English, parallel between English men and English mastiffs, by
+cardinal Ximenes, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page88">88</a></p>
+<p>Epilogues, humorous ones after tragedies censured, 400</p>
+<p>Euripides, 195</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">F</p>
+
+<p>Francis, see actors</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, Mrs., ibid.</p>
+<p>Fullerton, actor, driven to suicide, 504</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">G</p>
+
+<p>German Theatre, vindication of, by Dramaticus, 251</p>
+<p>Gifford, Wm. life of, 357, 447</p>
+<p>Greek drama, <a class="internal" href="#page109">109</a>, 189, 269, 350</p>
+
+</td>
+<td>
+
+<p class="letterhead">H</p>
+
+<p>History of the stage, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page9">9</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page109">109</a>, 189, 269, 350,
+431</p>
+<p>High Life below Stairs, account of, 506</p>
+<p>Hodgkinson, biography of, 202, 283, 368, 457</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">I</p>
+
+<p>Irish bulls, specimen of, 455</p>
+<p>Jefferson, see actors</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">L</p>
+
+<p>Lear, essay on the alterations of it, 391</p>
+<p>Le Kain, the French actor, account of, 438</p>
+<p>Lewis, his retirement from the stage, <a class="internal" href="#page185">185</a></p>
+<p>Literary World, what is it? 406</p>
+<p>Longevity, instance of, 496</p>
+<p>Lover general, a rhapsody, 399</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">M</p>
+
+<p>Macklin checked practice of hissing, 504</p>
+<p>Man and Wife, a comedy, <a class="internal" href="#page188">188</a></p>
+<p>Menander, 350</p>
+<p>Metayer Henry, anecdote of with Theobald, 503</p>
+<p>M&#8216;Kenzie, see actors</p>
+<p>Milton and Shakspeare, comparison between, 248</p>
+<p>Miscellany, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page96">96</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page173">173</a>, 241, 307, 384, 467</p>
+<p>Music, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page81">81</a>, 257</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, Oh think not my spirits are always as light,
+a&nbsp;song by Anacreon Moore, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page83">83</a></p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, Irish, <a class="internal" href="#page161">161</a></p>
+<p>Musical performance, expectation of a grand one, 428</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">N</p>
+
+<p>New-York reviewers impeached, 505</p>
+<p>Nokes, comedian, 381</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">O</p>
+
+<p>O&#8217;Kelly&#8217;s horse Dungannon, 500</p>
+<p>Originality in writing, Voltaire&#8217;s idea of, <a class="internal" href="#page184">184</a></p>
+<p>Otway, observations on, 502</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">P</p>
+
+<p>Payne, American young Roscius, criticised on, <a class="internal" href="#page141">141</a>, 220, 241</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, see actors</p>
+<p>Pedestrianism, humorous essay on, 262</p>
+<p>Players celebrated compared with celebrated painters, 387</p>
+<p>Plays, names of, attached to each No.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#foundling">Foundling of the Forest</a>, No. I</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<a class="internal" href="#man_and_wife">Man and Wife</a>, No. II</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Venoni, No. III</p>
+<p class="indent">
+New Way to pay Old Debts, No. IV</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Alfonso, king of Castile, No. V</p>
+<p class="indent">
+The Free Knights, No. VI.</p>
+<p>Plays criticised in the Censor</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Cure for the Heart-<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">ach</ins>,
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page59">59</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Pizarro, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page62">62</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Town and Country, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page66">66</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Ella Rosenberg, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page69">69</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Wood Demon, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page71">71</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Abaellino, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page73">73</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Road to Ruin, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page73">73</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Speed the Plough, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page74">74</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Man and Wife, <a class="internal" href="#page188">188</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Foundling of the Forest, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page80">80</a>, 345</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Africans, 418.</p>
+<p>Poetry</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Tom Gobble, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page97">97</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+English bards and Scotch reviewers, extract from, <a href=
+"https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page98">98</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Occasional prologue on the first appearance of Miss Brunton, afterwards
+Merry and Warren, at Bath, <a class="internal" href="#page121">121</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Latin verses on do. and translation, <a class="internal" href="#page124">124</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Prologue on first appearance, of the same lady in London, by
+A.&nbsp;Murphy, <a class="internal" href="#page126">126</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Duck shooting, <a class="internal" href="#page172">172</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+A true story, <a class="internal" href="#page183">183</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+Lewis&#8217;s address on taking leave of Ireland, <a class="internal" href="#page187">187</a></p>
+<p class="indent">
+On the death of Mrs. Warren, 246</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Descent into Elisium, 253</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Gracy Nugent, by Carolan, 261</p>
+<p class="indent">
+O never let us marry, 324</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Epilogue by Sheridan, censuring humourous ones after tragedies, 401</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Logical poem on chesnut horse and horse chesnut, 404</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Quin, an anecdote in verse, 409</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Luck of Edenhall, 487</p>
+<p class="indent">
+The parson and the nose, 495</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Solitude, advantages of for study, 495</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Soldier <ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;tohis&rsquo;">to
+his</ins> horse, 499.</p>
+<p>Prospectus, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page1">1</a></p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">R</p>
+
+<p>Reviews of New-York impeached, 505</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">S</p>
+
+<p>Seymour, Mrs. see actors</p>
+<p>She would and she would not, merit of, 506</p>
+<p>Southern, 502</p>
+<p>Socrates, death of, 280</p>
+<p>Sophocles, 189</p>
+<p><span class="smallcaps">Sporting</span>,
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page85">85</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page164">164</a>, 262, 410, 499</p>
+<p>Spain, divertissements in, 495</p>
+<p>Strolling Player, a week&#8217;s journal of, 396</p>
+<p>Stage, history of,
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page8">8</a>,
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/22488/22488-h/22488-h.htm#page9">9</a>,
+<a class="internal" href="#page109">109</a>, 189, 269, 350</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">T</p>
+
+<p>Taylor, Billy, critique on ballad, 467</p>
+<p>Thespis, account of, <a class="internal" href="#page113">113</a></p>
+<p>Theobaldus Secundus, <a class="internal" href="#page173">173</a>, 241, 307, 384</p>
+<p>Theatre, misbehaviour there, 267</p>
+<p>Theobald, his theft from Metayer, 503</p>
+<p>Theatrical contest, Barry and Garrick, in Romeo, 507</p>
+<p>Thornton, Col. his removal from York to Wilts, <a class="internal" href="#page164">164</a></p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">V</p>
+
+<p>Voltaire, his idea of originality in writing, <a class="internal" href="#page184">184</a></p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">W</p>
+
+<p>Warren, Mrs. life of, <a class="internal" href="#page118">118</a></p>
+<p>Warren, actor, see actors</p>
+<p>West, see actors</p>
+<p>Wit, pedigree of, by Addison, 406</p>
+<p>Wife, essay on the choice of, 477</p>
+<p>Wood, actor, see actors</p>
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;, Mrs., ibid.</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">Y</p>
+
+<p>Young, celebrated actor, 236</p>
+
+<p class="letterhead">Z</p>
+
+<p>Zengis, so unintelligible <ins class="correction" title=
+"word missing in original">audience not</ins> understand it, 507</p>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="play">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p1" id="page_p1">1</a></span></p>
+
+<h1><a name="man_and_wife" id="man_and_wife"></a>MAN AND WIFE;</h1>
+
+<h6>OR,</h6>
+
+<h2>MORE SECRETS THAN ONE:</h2>
+
+<h3>A COMEDY.</h3>
+
+<h5><br />BY SAMUEL JAMES ARNOLD, ESQ.</h5>
+
+<hr class="thick" />
+
+<h6>PUBLISHED BY BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, PHILADELPHIA;<br />
+INSKEEP AND BRADFORD, NEW-YORK; AND WILLIAM <br />
+M&#8216;ILHENNY, BOSTON.</h6>
+
+<h6>SMITH AND MAXWELL, PRINTERS.</h6>
+
+<h6>1810.</h6>
+
+<hr class="mid" />
+
+<p><a name="page_p2" id="page_p2"></a>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p3" id="page_p3">3</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>MAN AND WIFE;</h3>
+
+<h6>OR,</h6>
+
+<h4>MORE SECRETS THAN ONE.</h4>
+
+<h6><br />DRAMATIS PERSONAE.</h6>
+
+<table class="cast" summary="cast of characters in three columns">
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3">
+<p>Lord Austencourt.</p>
+<p>Sir Rowland Austencourt.</p>
+<p>Charles Austencourt.</p>
+<p>Sir Willoughby Worret.</p>
+<p>Falkner.</p>
+<p>Abel Grouse.</p>
+</td>
+<td>
+<p>Mr. Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus.</p>
+<p>Ponder.</p>
+<p>William.</p>
+<p>Servant.</p>
+<p>Countryman.</p>
+<p>Sailor.</p>
+</td>
+<td>
+<p>Game-Keeper.</p>
+<p>Parish Officer.</p>
+<p>Lady <ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Worrett&rsquo;">Worret</ins>.</p>
+<p>Helen Worret.</p>
+<p>Fanny.</p>
+<p>Tiffany.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h4 class="act"><a name="act_I" id="act_I"></a>ACT I.</h4>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_I_i" id="act_I_i">SCENE
+I.</a>&mdash;<i>Abel
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Grouses&#8217;s&rsquo;">Grouse&#8217;s</ins>
+cottage. Enter <em>Abel Grouse</em>
+and <em>Fanny.</em></i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Don&#8217;t tell me of your sorrow and repentance girl. You&#8217;ve
+broke my heart. Married hey? and privately too&mdash;and to a lord into the
+bargain! So, when you can hide it no longer, you condescend to tell me.
+Think you that the wealth and title of lord Austencourt can silence the
+fears of a fond father&#8217;s heart? Why should a lord marry a poor girl like
+you in private, if his intentions were honourable? Who should restrain
+him from publicly avowing his wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> My dearest father, have but a little patience, and I&#8217;ll explain
+all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Who was present, besides the parson, at your wedding?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> There was our neighbour, the attorney, sir, and one of his
+clerks, and they were all&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> My heart sinks within me&mdash;but mark me. You may remember I was
+not always what now I seem to be. I yesterday received intelligence
+which, but for this discovery, had shed a gleam of joy over my remaining
+days. As it is, should your husband prove the villain I suspect him,
+that intelligence will afford me an opportunity to resume a character in
+life which shall make this monster lord tremble. The wrongs of Abel
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Growse&rsquo;">Grouse</ins>,
+the poor but upright man, might have been pleaded in vain to
+him, but as I shall soon appear, it shall go hard but I will make the
+great man shrink before me, even in his plenitude of pride and power.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> You terrify me, sir, indeed you do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> And so I would. I would prepare you for the worst that may
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">befal</ins>
+us: for should this man, this lord, who calls himself your
+husband&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Dearest father, what can you mean? Who <i>calls</i> himself my
+husband! He <i>is</i> my husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> If he <i>is</i> your husband, how does he dare to pay his
+addresses, as he now publicly does, to the daughter of sir Willoughby
+Worret, our neighbour. I may be mistaken. I&#8217;m in the midst here of old
+acquaintances, though in this guise they know me not. They shall soon
+see me amongst them. Not a word of this, I charge you. Come girl, this
+lord shall own you. If he does not, we will seek a remedy in those laws
+which are at once the best guardians of our rights and the surest
+avengers of our wrongs. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_I_ii" id="act_I_ii">SCENE
+II.</a>&mdash;<i>A parlour in <em>sir W. Worret&#8217;s</em> house. The breakfast
+prepared, urn, &amp;c. <em>Sir Willoughby</em> reading the newspaper. He rises and
+rings the bell; then pulls out his watch.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Three quarters of an hour since breakfast was first announced
+to my wife. My patience is exhausted. Oh wedlock, wedlock! why did I
+ever venture again into thy holy state&mdash;of misery! Of all the taxes laid
+on mankind by respect to society and the influence of example, no one is
+so burthensome as that which obliges a man to submit to a thousand ills
+at home, rather than be suspected of being a bad husband abroad. <span class="stagedir">(enter
+servant)</span> Go to your lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Serv.</span> I told her ladyship five times before, sir Willoughby, that
+breakfast was waiting.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Then tell her once more, and that will make six, and say I
+earnestly request the favour she will hasten to breakfast, as while she
+stays I starve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Serv.</span> Yes, sir Willoughby, but she&#8217;ll stop the longer for the message.
+<span class="stagedir">(Aside going out.)</span> <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> My wife is the very devil. It seems that she&#8217;d be miserable if
+she did not think me happy; yet her tenderness is my eternal torment;
+her affection puts me in a fidget, and her fondness in a fever.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter servant.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Serv.</span> My lady says she wont detain you a moment, sir Willoughby.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> The old answer. Then she&#8217;s so nervous. A nervous wife is worse
+than a perpetual blister; and then, as the man says in the play, your
+nervous patients are always ailing, but <i>never die</i>. Zounds! why do I
+bear it? &#8217;tis my folly, my weakness, to dread the censure of the world,
+and to sacrifice every comfort of my fire side to the ideal advantage of
+being esteemed a <i>good husband</i>. (<span class="stagedir">Lady
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Worrett&rsquo;">Worret</ins> is heard speaking
+behind</span>) Hark! now she begins her morning work, giving more orders in a
+minute than can be executed in a month, and teasing my daughter to death
+to teach her to keep her temper; yet every body congratulates me on
+having so good a wife; every body envies me so excellent an economist;
+every body thinks me the happiest man alive; and nobody knows what a
+miserable mortal I am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">behind</span>) And harkye, William, (<span class="stagedir">entering with servant</span>) tell
+the coachman to bring the chariot in a quarter of an hour: and William,
+run with these books immediately to the rector&#8217;s; and William, bring up
+breakfast this moment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> Yes, my lady: (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) Lord have mercy upon us! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> My dear sir Willoughby, I beg a thousand pardons; but you are
+always so indulgent that you really spoil me. I&#8217;m sure you think me a
+tiresome creature.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No, no, my life, not at all. I should be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p4" id="page_p4">4</a></span>
+very ungrateful if I
+didn&#8217;t value you <i>just exactly as highly</i> as you deserve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> I certainly <i>deserve</i> a good scolding: I do indeed. I think if
+you scolded me a little I should behave better.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Well, then, as you encourage me, my love, I must own that a
+little more punctuality would greatly heighten the zest of your society.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> And yet, sir Willoughby, you <i>must</i> acknowledge that my time
+is ever dedicated to that proper vigilance which the superintendance of
+so large an establishment undoubtedly requires.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why, true, my love; but somehow I can&#8217;t help thinking, that, as
+my fortune is so ample, it is quite unnecessary that you should undergo
+so much fatigue: for instance, I <i>do</i> think that the wife of a baronet
+of 12,000l. a year owes it to her rank to be otherwise employed than in
+hunting after the housemaid, or sacrificing her time in the storeroom in
+counting candles, or weighing out soap, starch, powder-blue, and brown
+sugar.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">in tears</span>) This is unkind, sir Willoughby, this is very
+unkind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> So! as usual, here&#8217;s a breeze springing up. What the devil
+shall I say to sooth her? Wife, wife! you drive me mad. You first beg me
+to scold you, and then are offended because I obligingly comply with
+your request.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> No, sir Willoughby, I am only <i>surprised</i> that you should so
+little know the value of a wife who daily degrades herself for your
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That&#8217;s the very thing I complain of. You <i>do</i> degrade yourself.
+Your economy, my life, is downright parsimony: your vigilance is
+suspicion; your management is meanness; and you fidget your servants
+till you make them fretful, and then prudently discharge them because
+they will live with you no longer. Hey!
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;odslife&rsquo;">ods life</ins>,
+I must sooth her: for
+if company comes, and finds her in this humour, my dear-bought
+reputation as a good husband is lost forever. (<span class="stagedir">Enter servant with
+breakfast.</span>) Come, come, my dear lady Worret, let us go to breakfast,
+come (<span class="stagedir">sitting down to breakfast</span>) let us talk of something else. Come,
+take your tea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">to servant</span>) Send William to speak to me. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit servant.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Where&#8217;s Helen?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> I have desired her to copy a few articles into the family
+receipt book before breakfast; for as her marriage will so shortly take
+place, it is necessary she should complete her studies.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> What, she&#8217;s at work, I suppose, on the third folio volume.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> The <i>fifth</i>, I believe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Heaven defend us! I don&#8217;t blame it; I don&#8217;t censure it at all:
+but I believe the case is <i>rather</i> unprecedented for an heiress of
+12,000l. a year to leave to posterity, in her own hand writing, five
+folio volumes of recipes, for pickling, preserving, potting, and pastry,
+for stewing and larding, making ketchup and sour krout, oyster patties,
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">barbacued</ins>
+pies, jellies, jams, soups, sour sauce, and sweetmeats.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Oh, sir Willoughby! if young ladies of the present day paid
+more attention to such substantial acquirements, we should have better
+wives and better husbands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why that is singularly just.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Yes, if women were taught to find amusement in domestic
+duties, instead of seeking it at a circulating library, assemblies, and
+balls, we should hear of fewer appeals to Doctor&#8217;s Commons and the court
+of King&#8217;s Bench.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why that is undeniably true (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) and now, as we have a
+moment uninterrupted by family affairs&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>William</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Is the carriage come?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> No, my lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Have you carried the books?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> No, my lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Then go and hasten the coachman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> No, my lady&mdash;<i>yes</i>, my lady.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> And William, send up Tiffany to Miss Helen&#8217;s room, and bid her
+say we expect her at breakfast.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> Miss Helen has been in the park these two hours.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">Laughs aside.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> How! in the park these two hours? Impossible. Send Tiffany to
+seek her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> Yes, my lady. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> So, as usual, risen with the lark, I suppose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Her disobedience will break my heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Zounds! I shall go mad. Here&#8217;s a mother-in-law going to break
+her heart, because my daughter prefers a walk in the morning to writing
+culinary secrets in a fat folio family receipt book!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Sir Willoughby, sir Willoughby, it is you who encourage her in
+disregarding my orders.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No such thing, lady Worret, no such thing: but if the girl
+likes to bring home a pair of ruddy cheeks from a morning walk, I don&#8217;t
+see why she is to be balked of her fancy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Ruddy cheeks, indeed! Such robust health is becoming only in
+dairy maids.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, I know your taste to a T. A consumption is always a key to
+your tender heart; and an interesting pallid countenance will at any
+time unlock the door to your best affections: but I must be excused if I
+prefer seeing my daughter with the rosy glow of health upon her cheek,
+rather than the sickly imitations of art, which bloom on the surface
+alone, while the fruit withers and decays beneath&mdash;but zounds! don&#8217;t
+speak so loud, here&#8217;s somebody coming, and they&#8217;ll think we are
+quarrelling. (<span class="stagedir">Helen sings behind</span>) So here comes our madcap.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Helen</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Good morning, good morning. Here, papa, look what a beautiful
+posy of wild flowers I have gathered. See, the dew is still upon them.
+How lovely they are! To my fancy, now, these uncultivated productions of
+nature have more charms than the whole garden can equal. Why can we not
+all be like these flowers, simple and inartificial, with the stamp of
+nature and truth upon us?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Romantic stuff! But how comes it, Miss Helen, that my orders
+are thus disobeyed?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why lord, mamma, I&#8217;ll tell you how it was; but first I must eat
+my breakfast; so I&#8217;ll sit down and tell you all about it. (<span class="stagedir">sits down.</span>)
+In the first place, I rose at six, and remembering I was to copy out the
+whole catalogue of sweetmeats, and as I hate all sweet things, (some
+sugar, if you please, papa) I determined to take one run round the park
+before I sat down to my morning&#8217;s work: so taking a crust of bread and a
+glass of cold water, which I love better than (some tea, if you please,
+mamma) any thing in the world, out I flew like a lapwing; stopped at the
+dairy; and (some cream, if you please, papa) down to the meadows and
+gathered my nosegay; and then bounded home, with a heart full of gayety,
+and a rare appetite for&mdash;some roll and butter, if you please, mamma.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Daughter, this levity of character is unbecoming your sex, and
+even your age. You see none of this offensive flightiness in me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Come, come, my dear lady Worret. Helen&#8217;s gayety is natural.
+Helen, my love, I have charming news for you. Every thing is at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p5" id="page_p5">5</a></span>
+last arranged between lord Austencourt and me respecting your marriage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why now, if mamma-in-law had said this, I should have thought
+she meant to make me as grave as herself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> In expectation that Helen will behave as becomes her in this
+most important affair of her life, I consent to pass over her negligence
+this morning in regard to my favourite receipts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I hate all receipts, sweet, bitter, and sour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Then we will now talk of a husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I hate all husbands, sweet, bitter, and sour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Whoo! Helen, my love, you should not contradict your mamma.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> My dear papa, I don&#8217;t contradict her; but I will not marry lord
+Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> This is too much for my weak nerves. I leave you, sir
+Willoughby, to arrange this affair, while I hasten to attend to my
+domestic duties.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside to lady W.</span>) That&#8217;s right; you&#8217;d better leave her to
+me. I&#8217;ll manage her, I warrant. Let me assist you&mdash;there&mdash;I&#8217;ll soon
+settle this business. (<span class="stagedir">Hands lady Worret off.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Now, my dear papa, are you really of the same opinion as her
+ladyship?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Exactly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Ha! ha! lud! but that&#8217;s comical. What! both think alike?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Precisely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> That&#8217;s very odd. I believe it&#8217;s the first time you&#8217;ve agreed in
+opinion since you were made one: but I&#8217;m quite sure you never can wish
+me to marry a man I do not love.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why no, certainly not; but you <i>will</i> love him; indeed you
+<i>must</i>. It&#8217;s my wife&#8217;s wish, you know, and so I wish it of course. Come,
+come, in this one trifling matter you must oblige us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Well, as <i>you</i> think it only a trifling matter, and as I think
+it of importance enough to make me miserable, I&#8217;m sure <i>you&#8217;ll</i> give up
+the point.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why no, you are mistaken. To be sure I <i>might</i> have given it
+up; but my lady Worret, you know&mdash;but that&#8217;s no matter. Marriage is a
+duty, and tis incumbent on parents to see their children settled in that
+<i>happy</i> state.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Have <i>you</i> found that state <i>so happy</i>, sir?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why&mdash;yes&mdash;that is&mdash;hey? happy! certainly. Doesn&#8217;t every body
+say so? and what every body says <i>must</i> be true. However, that&#8217;s not to
+the purpose. A connexion with the family of lord Austencourt is
+particularly desirable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Not to <i>me</i>, I assure you, papa.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Our estates join so charmingly to one another.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> But sure that&#8217;s no reason <i>we</i> should be joined to one another.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage
+between you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me
+a separate maintenance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir. W.</span> Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady
+Worret&#8217;s wishes. Zounds! you don&#8217;t see me disobedient to her wishes; but
+I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young
+fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has
+filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness.
+Thank Heaven, however, he&#8217;s far enough off at sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And <i>I</i> think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles
+abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to those whom his courage
+enables to live in tranquillity at home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That&#8217;s very true: (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) but I have an unanswerable
+objection to all you can say. Lord Austencourt is rich, and Charles is a
+beggar. Besides sir Rowland himself prefers lord Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> More shame for him. His partial feelings to his nephew, and
+unnatural disregard of his son, have long since made me hate him. In
+short, you are for money, and choose lord Austencourt: I am for love,
+and prefer his poor cousin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Then, once for all, as my lady Worret must be obeyed, I no
+longer consult you on the subject, and it only remains for you to retain
+the affection of an indulgent father, by complying with my will (I mean
+my wife&#8217;s) or to abandon my protection. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I won&#8217;t marry him, papa, I won&#8217;t, nor I won&#8217;t cry, though I&#8217;ve
+a great mind. A plague of all money, say I. Oh! what a grievous
+misfortune it is to be born with 12,000l. a year? but if I can&#8217;t marry
+the man I like, I won&#8217;t marry at all; that&#8217;s determined: and every body
+knows the firmness of a woman&#8217;s resolution, when she resolves on
+contradiction. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_I_iii" id="act_I_iii">SCENE
+III.</a>&mdash;<i><em>O&#8217;Dedimus&#8217;s</em> office. Boxes round the shelves. <em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em>
+discovered writing at an office table. A few papers and parchments,
+&amp;c.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Dedimus.</span> There! I think I&#8217;ve expressed my meaning quite plainly,
+(<span class="stagedir">reads</span>) &ldquo;Farmer Flail, I&#8217;m instructed by lord Austencourt, your
+landlord, to inform you, by word of letter, that if you can&#8217;t afford to
+pay the additional rent for your farm, you must turn out.&rdquo; I think
+that&#8217;s clear enough. &ldquo;As to your putting in the plea of a large family,
+we cannot allow that as a set off; because, when a man can&#8217;t afford to
+support seven children with decency, he ought not to trouble himself to
+get them.&rdquo; I think that&#8217;s plain English.</p>
+
+<p class="signoff">&ldquo;Your humble servant,</p>
+<p class="signature">&ldquo;CORNELIUS O&#8217;DEDIMUS,</p>
+<p class="occupation">&ldquo;Attorney at law.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;P.S. You may show this letter to his lordship, to convince him I have
+done my duty; but as I don&#8217;t mean one word of it, if you&#8217;ll come to me
+privately, I&#8217;ll see what can be done for you, without his knowing any
+thing of the matter,&rdquo; and I think <i>that&#8217;s</i> plain English.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>gamekeeper</em> with a <em>countryman</em> in custody.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Well, friend, and what are you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countryman.</span> I be&#8217;s a poacher: so my lord&#8217;s gamekeeper here do say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> A poacher! Faith that&#8217;s honest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Gamekeeper.</span> I caught him before day-light on the manor. I took away
+his gun and shot his dog.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That was bravely done. So, you must pamper your long stomach
+with pheasants and partridges, and be damned to ye! Will you prefer
+paying five pounds now, or three month&#8217;s hard labour in the house of
+correction?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> Thank ye, sir, I don&#8217;t prefer either, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> You must go before the justice. He&#8217;ll exhort you, and commit
+ye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> Ees, I do know that <i>extortion</i> and <i>commission</i>, and such
+like, be the office of the justice; but I&#8217;ll have a bit of law, please
+punch. He ha&#8217; killed my poor dog, that I loved like one o&#8217; my own
+children, and I&#8217;ve gotten six of &#8217;em, Lord bless &#8217;em.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Six dogs!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> Dogs! No, children, mun.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Six children! Och, the fruitful sinner!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> My wife be a pains-taking woman, sir. We ha&#8217; had this poor
+dog from a puppy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Shut your ugly mouth, you babbler.&mdash;Six children! Oh! we must
+make an example of this fellow. An&#8217;t I the village lawyer? and an&#8217;t I
+the terror of all the rogues of the parish? (<span class="stagedir">aside to him.</span>) You must
+plead &ldquo;not guilty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> But I tell you, if that be guilt, I <i>be</i> guilty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p6" id="page_p6">6</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Why, you blundering booby, if you plead guilty, how will I ever
+be able to prove you innocent?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Countrym.</span> Guilty or innocent, I&#8217;ll have the law of him, by gum. He has
+shot my poor old mongrel, and taken away my musket; and I&#8217;ve lost my
+day&#8217;s drilling, and I&#8217;ll make him pay for it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> A mongrel and a musket! by St. Patrick, Mr. Gamekeeper, and you
+have nately set your foot in it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Gamekeeper.</span> Why, sir, its a bad affair, sir. &#8217;Twas so dark, I couldn&#8217;t
+see; and when I discovered my mistake, I offered him a shilling to make
+it up, and he refused it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside to gamekeeper.</span>) Harkye, Mr. Gamekeeper; he has one
+action against ye for his dog, and another for false imprisonment.
+(<span class="stagedir">aloud</span>) I love to see the laws enforced with justice: (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) but
+I&#8217;ll always help a poor man to stand up against oppression. (<span class="stagedir">to
+gamekeeper</span>) He has got you on the hip, and so go out and settle it
+between yourselves, and do <i>you</i> take care of yourself: (<span class="stagedir">to
+countryman</span>) and do <i>you</i> make the best of your bargain. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center"><em>Parish officer</em> brings forward the <em>sailor</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Officer.</span> Here&#8217;s a vagrant. I found him begging without a pass.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Take him before his worship directly. The sturdy rogue ought to
+be punished.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sailor.</span> Please your honour, I&#8217;m a sailor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And if you&#8217;re a sailor, an&#8217;t you ashamed to own it? A begging
+sailor is a disgrace to an honourable profession, for which the country
+has provided an asylum as glorious as it is deserved.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sailor.</span> Why so it has: but I an&#8217;t bound for Greenwich yet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside to him.</span>) Why, you&#8217;re disabled, I see.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sailor.</span> Disabled! What for? Why I&#8217;ve only lost <i>one</i> arm yet. Bless
+ye, I&#8217;m no beggar. I was going to see my Nancy, thirty miles further on
+the road, and meeting some old messmates, we had a cann o&#8217; grog
+together. One cann brought on another, and then we got drinking the
+king&#8217;s health, and the navy, and then <i>this</i> admiral, and then <i>t&#8217;other</i>
+admiral, till at last we had so many gallant heroes to drink, that we
+were all drunk afore we came to the reckoning; so, your honour, as my
+messmates had none of the rhino, I paid all; and then, you know, they
+had a long journey upwards, and no
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;buiscuit&rsquo;">biscuit</ins>
+aboard; so I lent one a
+little, and another a little, till at last I found I had no coin left in
+my locker for myself, except a cracked teaster that Nancy gave me; and I
+couldn&#8217;t spend that, you know, though I had been starving.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And so you begged!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sailor.</span> Begged! no. I just axed for a bit of bread and a mug o&#8217; water.
+That&#8217;s no more than one Christian ought to give another, and if you call
+that begging, why I beg to differ in opinion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> According to the act you are a vagrant, and the justice may
+commit ye; (<span class="stagedir">aside to the officer</span>) lookye, Mr. Officer&mdash;you&#8217;re in the
+wrong box here. Can&#8217;t you see plain enough, by his having lost an arm,
+that he earns a livelihood by the work of his hands; so lest he should
+be riotous for being detained, let me advise you to be off. I&#8217;ll send
+him off after you with a flea in his ear&mdash;the other way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Officer.</span> Thank ye, sir, thank ye. I&#8217;m much obliged to you for your
+advice, sir, and shall take it, and so my service to you. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Take this my honest lad; (<span class="stagedir">gives money</span>) say nothing about it,
+and give my service to Nancy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sailor.</span> Why now, heaven bless you honour forever; and if ever you&#8217;re
+in distress, and I&#8217;m within sight of signals, why hang out your blue
+lights; and if I don&#8217;t bear down to your assistance, may my gun be
+primed with damp powder the first time we fire a broadside at the enemy.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center"><em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em> rings a bell.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Ponder! Now will this fellow be thinking and thinking, till he
+quite forgets what he&#8217;s doing. Ponder, I say! (<span class="stagedir">enter Ponder.</span>) Here,
+Ponder, take this letter to farmer Flail&#8217;s, and if you see Mrs. Muddle,
+his neighbour, give my love and duty to her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> Yes, yes, sir; but at that moment, sir, I was immersed in
+thought, if I may be allowed the expression; I was thinking of the vast
+difference between love and law, and yet how neatly you&#8217;ve spliced them
+together in your last instructions to your humble servant, Peter Ponder,
+clerk.&mdash;Umph!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Umph! is that your manners, you bear-garden? Will I never be
+able to larn you to behave yourself? Study <i>me</i>, and talk like a
+gentleman, and be damn&#8217;d to ye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> I study the law; I can&#8217;t talk it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Cant you? Then you&#8217;ll never do. If your tongue don&#8217;t run faster
+than your client&#8217;s, how will you ever be able to bother him, you booby?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> I&#8217;ll draw out his case; he shall read, and he&#8217;ll bother
+himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> You&#8217;ve a notion. Mind my instructions, and I don&#8217;t despair of
+seeing you at the bar one day. Was that copy of a writ sarved yesterday
+upon Garble, the tailor?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> Aye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And sarve him right too. That&#8217;s a big rogue, that runs in debt
+wid his eyes open, and though he has property, refuses to pay. Is he
+safe?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> He was bailed by Swash the brewer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And was the other sarved on Shuttle, the weaver?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> Aye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Who bailed him?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> Nobody. He&#8217;s gone to jail.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Gone to jail! Why <i>his</i> poverty is owing to misfortune. He
+can&#8217;t pay. Well, that&#8217;s not our affair. The law must have its course.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> So Shuttle said to his wife, as she hung crying on his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s it; he&#8217;s a sensible man; and that&#8217;s more than his wife
+is. We&#8217;ve nothing to do with women&#8217;s tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> Not a bit. So they walked him off to jail in a jiffey, if I
+may be allowed the expression.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> To be sure, and that was right. They did their duty: though for
+sartin, if a poor man can&#8217;t pay his debts when he&#8217;s at liberty, he wont
+be much nearer the mark when he&#8217;s shut up in idleness in a prison.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And when he that sent them there comes to make up his last
+account, &#8217;tis my belief that he wont be able to show cause why a bill
+shouldn&#8217;t be filed against him for barbarity. Are the writings all ready
+for sir Rowland?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> All ready. Shall I now go to farmer Flail&#8217;s with the letter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Aye, and if you see Shuttle&#8217;s wife in your way, give my service
+to her; and d&#8217;ye hear, as you&#8217;re a small talker, don&#8217;t let the little
+you say be so cursed crabbed; and if a few kind words of comfort should
+find their way from your heart to your tongue, don&#8217;t shut your ugly
+mouth, and keep them within your teeth. You may tell her that if she can
+find any body to stand up for her husband, I shan&#8217;t be over nice about
+the sufficiency of the bail. Get you gone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> I shall. Let me see! farmer Flail&mdash;Mrs. Muddle, his
+neighbour&mdash;Shuttle&#8217;s wife&mdash;and a whole string of messages and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p7" id="page_p7">7</a></span>
+memorandums&mdash;here&#8217;s business enough to bother the brains of any
+ordinary man! You are pleased to say, sir, that I am too much addicted
+to thinking&mdash;I think <i>not</i>. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit Ponder.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> By my soul, if an attorney wasn&#8217;t sometimes a bit of a rogue,
+he&#8217;d never be able to earn an honest livelihood. Oh Mr. O&#8217;Dedimus! why
+have you so little when your heart could distribute so much!</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center"><em>Sir Rowland</em>, without.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Mr. O&#8217;Dedimus&mdash;within there!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Yes, I&#8217;m within there.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>sir Rowland</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Where are these papers? I thought the law&#8217;s delay was only
+felt by those who could not pay for its expedition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> The law, sir Rowland, is a good horse, and his pace is slow and
+sure; but he goes no faster because you goad him with a golden spur; but
+every thing is prepared, sir; and now, sir Rowland, I have an ugly sort
+of an awkward affair to mention to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Does it concern <i>me</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> You know, sir Rowland, at the death of my worthy friend, the
+late lord Austencourt, you were left sole executor and guardian to his
+son, the present lord, then an infant of three years of age.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> What does this lead to? (<span class="stagedir">starting</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> With a disinterested view to benefit the estate of the minor,
+who came of age the other day, you some time ago embarked a capital of
+14,000l. in a great undertaking.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Proceed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I have this morning received a letter from the agent, stating
+the whole concern to have failed, the partners to be bankrupts, and the
+property consigned to assignees not to promise, as a final dividend,
+more than one shilling in the pound. This letter will explain the rest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> How! I was not prepared for this&mdash;What&#8217;s to be done?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> When one loses a sum of money that isn&#8217;t one&#8217;s own, there&#8217;s but
+one thing to be done.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> And what is that?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> To pay it back again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> You know that to be impossible, utterly impossible.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Then, sir Rowland, take the word of <i>Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus</i>,
+attorney at law, his lordship will rigidly exact the money, to the
+uttermost farthing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> You are fond, sir, of throwing out these hints to his
+disadvantage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I am bold to speak it&mdash;I am possessed of a secret, sir Rowland,
+in regard to his lordship.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> (<span class="stagedir">alarmed.</span>) What is it you mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I thought I told you it was a <i>secret</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> But to me you should have no secrets that regard my family.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> With submission, sir Rowland, his lordship is my client, as
+well as yourself, and I have learned from the practice of the courts,
+that an attorney who blabs in his business has soon no suit to his back.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> But this affair, perhaps, involves my deepest interest&mdash;my
+character&mdash;my all is at stake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Have done wid your pumping now&mdash;d&#8217;ye think I am a basket full
+of cinders, that I&#8217;m to be sifted after this fashion?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Answer but this&mdash;does it relate to Charles, my son?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sartinly, the young gentleman has a small bit of interest in
+the question.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> One thing more. Does it allude to a transaction which
+happened some years ago&mdash;am I a principal concerned in it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Devil a ha&#8217;porth&mdash;it happened only six months past.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Enough&mdash;I breathe again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I&#8217;m glad of that, for may-be you&#8217;ll now let me breathe to tell
+you that as I know lord Austencourt&#8217;s private character better than you
+do, my life to a bundle of parchment, he&#8217;ll even arrest ye for the
+money.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Impossible, he cannot be such a villain!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Abel Grouse.</span> (<span class="stagedir">without</span>) What ho! is the lawyer within?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Who interrupts us?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> &#8217;Tis the strange man that lives on the common&mdash;his name is Abel
+Grouse&mdash;he&#8217;s coming up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I&#8217;ll wait till you dismiss him, for I cannot encounter any one
+at present. Misfortunes crowd upon me; and one act of guilt has drawn
+the vengeance of Heaven on my head, and will pursue me to the grave.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit to an inner room.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Och! if a small gale of adversity blows up such a storm as
+this, we shall have a pretty hurricane by and by, when you larn a little
+more of your hopeful nephew, and see his new matrimonial scheme fall to
+the ground, like buttermilk through a sieve.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Abel Grouse</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Abel Grouse.</span> Now, sir, you are jackall, as I take it, to lord
+Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I am his man of business, sure enough; but didn&#8217;t hear before
+of my promotion to the office you mention.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> You are possessed of all his secret deeds.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s a small mistake&mdash;I have but one of them, and that&#8217;s the
+deed of settlement on Miss Helen Worret, spinster.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Leave your quibbling, sir, and speak plump to the point&mdash;if
+habit hasn&#8217;t hardened your heart, and given a system to your knavery,
+answer me this: lord Austencourt has privately married my daughter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Hush!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> You were a witness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Has any body told you that thing?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Will you deny it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Will you take a friend&#8217;s advice?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> I didn&#8217;t come for advice. I came to know if you will confess
+the fact, or whether you are villain enough to conceal it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Have done wid your bawling&mdash;sir Rowland&#8217;s in the next room!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Is he? then sir Rowland shall hear me&mdash;Sir Rowland!&mdash;he shall
+see my daughter righted&mdash;Ho there! Sir Rowland!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) Here&#8217;ll be a devil of a dust kicked up presently
+about the ears of Mr. Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus, attorney at law!</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em><ins class="correction" title="Capital S in original">sir</ins> Rowland</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Who calls me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> &#8217;Twas I!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> What is it you want, friend?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Justice!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Justice! then you had better apply there, (<span class="stagedir">pointing to
+O&#8217;Dedimus.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> That&#8217;s a mistake&mdash;he deals only in <i>law</i>&mdash;&#8217;tis to you that I
+appeal&mdash;Your nephew, lord Austencourt, is about to marry the daughter of
+sir Willoughby Worret.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> He is.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Never! I will save him the guilt of that crime at least!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> You are mysterious, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Perhaps I am. Briefly, your nephew is privately married to my
+daughter&mdash;this man was present at their union&mdash;will you see justice done
+me, and make him honourably proclaim his wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Your tale is incredible, sir&mdash;it is sufficient, however, to
+demand attention, and I warn you, lest by your folly you rouse an
+indignation that may crush you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Hear me, proud man, while I warn
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p8" id="page_p8">8</a></span>
+<i>you</i>! My daughter is the
+lawful wife of lord Austencourt&mdash;double is the
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">wo</ins> to me that she <i>is</i>
+his wife: but as it is so, he shall publicly acknowledge her&mdash;to you I
+look for justice and redress&mdash;see to it, sir, or I shall speedily appear
+in a new character, with my wrongs in my hand, to hurl destruction on
+you. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> What does the fellow mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s just what I&#8217;m thinking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> <i>You</i>, he said, was privy to their marriage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Bless ye, the man&#8217;s mad!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> Ha! you said you had a secret respecting my nephew.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sir, if you go on so, you&#8217;ll bother me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> The fellow must be silenced&mdash;can you not contrive some means
+to rid us of his insolence?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sir, I shall do my duty, as my duty should be done, by
+Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus, attorney at law.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir Row.</span> My nephew must not hear of this accursed loss&mdash;be secret on
+that head, I charge you! but in regard to this man&#8217;s bold assertion, I
+must consult him instantly&mdash;haste and follow me to his house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Take me wid ye, sir; for this is such a dirty business, that
+I&#8217;ll never be able to go through it unless you show me the way.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">End of act I.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h4 class="act"><a name="act_II" id="act_II"></a>ACT II.</h4>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_II_i" id="act_II_i">SCENE
+I.</a>&mdash;<i>A library at <em>Sir Willoughby&#8217;s.</em> Enter
+<em>Helen</em> with <em>Servant.</em></i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Lord Austencourt&mdash;true&mdash;this is his hour for persecuting
+me&mdash;very well, desire lord Austencourt to come in. (<span class="stagedir">exit servant</span>) I
+won&#8217;t marry. They all say I shall. Some girls, now, would sit down and
+sigh, and moan, as if that would mend the matter&mdash;that will never suit
+me! Some indeed would run away with the man they liked better&mdash;but then
+the only man I ever liked well enough to marry&mdash;is&mdash;I believe, run away
+from <i>me</i>. Well! that won&#8217;t do!&mdash;so I&#8217;ll e&#8217;en laugh it off as well as I
+can; and though I wont marry his lordship, I&#8217;ll teaze him as heartily as
+if I had been his wife these twenty years.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>lord Austencourt</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Helen! too lovely Helen! once more behold before you to
+supplicate for your love and pity, the man whom the world calls proud,
+but whom your beauty alone has humbled.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> They say, my lord, that pride always has a fall some time or
+other. I hope the fall of your lordship&#8217;s hasn&#8217;t hurt you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Is it possible that the amiable Helen, so famed for gentleness
+and goodness, can see the victim of her charms thus dejected stand
+before her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Certainly not, my lord&mdash;so pray sit down.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Will you never be for one moment serious?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Oh, yes, my lord! I am never otherwise when <i>I think</i> of your
+lordship&#8217;s proposals&mdash;but when you are making love and fine speeches to
+me in person, &#8217;tis with amazing difficulty I can help laughing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Insolent
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">vixin</ins>.
+(<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) I had indulged a hope, madam, that
+the generosity and disinterested love I have evinced&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why as to your lordship&#8217;s generosity in condescending to marry
+a poor solitary spinster, I am certainly most duly grateful&mdash;and no one
+can possibly doubt your disinterestedness, who knows I am only heiress
+to 12,000l. a year&mdash;a fortune which, as I take it, nearly doubles the
+whole of your lordship&#8217;s rent roll!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Really, madam, if I am suspected of any mercenary motives, the
+liberal settlements which are now ready for your perusal, must
+immediately remove any such suspicion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Oh, my lord, you certainly mistake me&mdash;only as my papa
+observes, our estates <i>do join so charmingly to one another</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Yes:&mdash;that circumstance is certainly advantageous to both
+parties (<span class="stagedir">exultingly.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Certainly!&mdash;only, as mine is the
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;bigest&rsquo;">biggest</ins>,
+perhaps <ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;your&#8217;s&rsquo;">yours</ins>
+would be the greatest gainer by the bargain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> My dear madam, a title and the advantages of elevation in rank
+amply compensate the sacrifice on your part.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why, as to a title, my lord (as Mr. O&#8217;Dedimus, your attorney,
+observes) there&#8217;s no title in my mind better than a good title to a fine
+estate&mdash;and I see plainly, that although your lordship is a peer of the
+realm&mdash;you think this title of mine no mean companion for your own.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Nay, madam&mdash;believe me&mdash;I protest&mdash;I assure you&mdash;solemnly,
+that those considerations have very little&mdash;indeed <i>no</i> influence <i>at
+all</i> with me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Oh, no!&mdash;only it is natural that you should feel (as papa again
+observes) that the <i>contiguity</i> of these estates seem to <i>invite</i> a
+union by a marriage between us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> And if you admit that fact, why do you decline the invitation?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why, one doesn&#8217;t accept <i>every</i> invitation that&#8217;s offered, you
+know&mdash;one sometimes has very disagreeable ones; and then one presents
+compliments, and is extremely sorry that a prior engagement obliges us
+to decline the honour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) Confound the satirical huzzy&mdash;But should not the
+wishes of your parents have some weight in the scale?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why, so they have; <i>their</i> wishes are in one scale, and <i>mine</i>
+are in the other; do all I can, I can&#8217;t make mine weigh most, and so the
+beam remains balanced.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I should be sorry to make theirs preponderate, by calling in
+their authority as auxiliaries to their wishes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Authority!&mdash;Ho! what, you think to marry me by force! do ye my
+lord?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> <i>They</i> are resolute, and if <i>you</i> continue obstinate&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I dare say your lordship&#8217;s education hasn&#8217;t precluded your
+knowledge of a very true, though <i>rather</i> vulgar proverb, &ldquo;one man may
+lead a horse to the water, but twenty can&#8217;t make him drink.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> The allusion may be classical, madam, though certainly it is
+not very elegant, nor has it even the advantage of being applicable to
+the point in question. However I do
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;no&rsquo;">not</ins>
+despair to see this resolution
+changed. In the mean time, I did not think it in your nature to treat
+any man who loves you with cruelty and scorn.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Then why don&#8217;t you desist, my lord? If you&#8217;d take an answer,
+you had a civil one: but if you will follow and teaze one, like a sturdy
+beggar in the street, you must expect at last a reproof for your
+impertinence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Yet even in their case perseverance often obtains what was
+denied to poverty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Yes, possibly, from the feeble or the vain; but genuine
+Charity, and her sister, Love, act only from their own generous impulse,
+and scorn intimidation.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Tiffany</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Are you alone, madam?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No; I was only wishing to be so.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiff.</span> A young woman is without, inquiring for sir Willoughby, ma&#8217;am; I
+thought he had been here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p9" id="page_p9">9</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Do you know her?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiff.</span> Yes, ma&#8217;am; &#8217;tis Fanny, the daughter of the odd man that lives
+on the common.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I&#8217;ll see her myself&mdash;desire her to walk up. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit Tiffany.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> (<span class="stagedir">seems uneasy</span>) Indeed! what brings her here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why, what can be the matter now? your lordship seems quite
+melancholy on a sudden.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I, madam! oh no!&mdash;or if I am&mdash;&#8217;tis merely a head
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">ach</ins>, or some
+such cause, or perhaps owing to the influence of the weather.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Your lordship is a very susceptible barometer&mdash;when you entered
+this room your countenance was <i>set fair</i>; but now I see the index
+points to <i>stormy</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Madam, you have company, or business&mdash;a good morning to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Stay, stay, my lord.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Excuse me at present, I have an important affair&mdash;another
+time.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Surely, my lord, the arrival of this innocent girl does not
+drive you away!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Bless me, madam, what an idea! certainly not; but I have just
+recollected an engagement of consequence&mdash;some other time&mdash;Madam, your
+most obedient&mdash;<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Fanny</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> I beg pardon, madam, I&#8217;m fearful I intrude; but I inquired for
+sir Willoughby, and they showed me to this room. I wished to speak with
+him on particular business&mdash;your servant, madam.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> Pray stay, my good girl&mdash;I rejoice in this opportunity of
+becoming acquainted with you&mdash;the character I have heard of you has
+excited an affectionate interest&mdash;you must allow me to become your
+friend.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Indeed, indeed, madam, I am in want of friends; but you can
+never be one of them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No! Why so?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> You, madam! Oh no&mdash;you are the only enemy I ever had.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> Enemy! This is very extraordinary! I have scarce ever seen you
+before&mdash;Assuredly I never injured you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Heaven forbid I should wish any one to injure you as deeply.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> I cannot understand you&mdash;pray explain yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> That&#8217;s impossible, madam&mdash;my lord would never forgive me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> Your lord! Let me entreat you to explain your meaning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> I cannot, madam; I came hither on business of importance, and no
+trifling business should have brought me to a house inhabited by one who
+is the cause of all my wretchedness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> This is a very extraordinary affair! There is a mixture of
+cultivation and simplicity in your manner that affects me strongly&mdash;I
+see, my poor girl, you are distressed; and though what you have said
+leaves on my mind a painful suspicion&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Oh heavens, madam! stay, I beseech you!&mdash;I am not what you think
+me, indeed I am not&mdash;I must not, for a moment, let you think of me so
+injuriously: yet I have promised secrecy! but sure no promise can be
+binding, when to keep it we must sacrifice all that is valuable in
+life&mdash;hear me, then madam&mdash;the struggle is violent; but I owe it to
+myself to acknowledge all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> No, no, my dear girl! I now see what it would cost you to reveal
+your secret, and I will not listen to it; rest assured, I have no longer
+a thought to your disadvantage: curiosity gives place to interest: for
+though &#8217;tis cruelty to inflict a wound, &#8217;tis still more deliberate
+barbarity to probe when we cannot hope to heal it. (<span class="stagedir">going.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Stay, madam, stay&mdash;your generosity overpowers me! oh madam! you
+know not how wretched I am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> What is it affects you thus?&mdash;come, if your story is of a nature
+that may be revealed, you are sure of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> I never should have doubted; but my father has alarmed me
+sadly&mdash;he says my lord Austencourt is certainly on the point of marriage
+with you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> And how, my dear girl, if it were so, could that affect you?
+Come, you must be explicit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Affect me! merciful Heaven! can I see him wed another? He is my
+husband by every tie sacred and human.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> Suffering, but too credulous girl! have you then trusted to his
+vows?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> How, madam! was I to blame, loving as I did, to trust in vows so
+solemn? could I suppose he would dare to break them, because our
+marriage was performed in secret?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Hel.</span> Your marriage, child! Good Heavens, you amaze me! but here we may
+be interrupted&mdash;this way with me. If this indeed be so all may be well
+again: for though he may be dead to <i>feeling</i> be assured he is alive to
+<i>fear</i>: the man who once descends to be a villain is generally observed
+to be at heart a coward. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_II_ii" id="act_II_ii">SCENE
+II.</a>&mdash;<i>The door of a country inn.&mdash;<em>Ponder</em> sitting on a
+portmanteau.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> I&#8217;ve heard that intense thinking has driven some philosophers
+mad!&mdash;now if this should happen to <i>me</i>, &#8217;twill never be the fate of my
+young patron, Mr. Charles Austencourt, whom I have suddenly met on his
+sudden return from sea, and who never thinks at all. Poor gentleman, he
+little thinks what&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Charles Austencourt</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Not gone yet? How comes it you are not on the road to my
+father? Is the fellow deaf or dumb. Ponder! are ye asleep?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I&#8217;m thinking, whether I am or not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> And what wise scheme now occupies your thoughts?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, I confess the subject is beneath me (<span class="stagedir">pointing to the
+portmanteau.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> The weight of the portmanteau, I suppose, alarms you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> If that was my heaviest misfortune, sir, I could carry double
+with all my heart. No, sir, I was thinking that as your father, sir
+Rowland, sent you on a cruize, for some cause best known to himself; and
+as you have thought proper to return for some cause best known to
+<i>yourself</i>, the chances of war, if I may be allowed the expression, are,
+that the contents of that trunk will be your only inheritance, or, in
+other words, that your father will cut you off with a shilling&mdash;and now
+I&#8217;m thinking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No doubt&mdash;thinking takes up so many of your waking hours, that
+you seldom find time for <i>doing</i>. And so you have, since my departure,
+turned your thinking faculties to the law.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir; when you gave me notice to quit, I found it so hard to
+live honestly, that lest the law should take to me, I took to the law:
+and so articled my self to Mr. O&#8217;Dedimus, the
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;at-attorney&rsquo; over line break">attorney</ins>
+in our town: but
+there is a thought unconnected with law that has occupied my head every
+moment since we met.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Pr&#8217;ythee dismiss your thought, and get your legs in motion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Then, sir, I have really been thinking, ever since I saw you,
+that you are a little&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">going off to a distance</span>) a little <i>odd</i>
+hereabouts, sir; (<span class="stagedir">pointing to his head</span>) a little damned mad, if I may
+be allowed the expression!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Ha! ha! very probably. My sudden return, without a motive, as
+you suppose, has put that wise notion in your head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Without a motive! No, sir, I believe I know tolerably well the
+motive&mdash;the old story, sir, ha! love!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p10" id="page_p10">10</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Char.</span> Love! And pray, sirrah, how do you dare to presume to suppose,
+that I&mdash;that I can be guilty of such a folly&mdash;I should be glad to know
+how you dare venture to think that I&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Lord bless you, sir, I discovered it before you left the country.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Indeed! and by what symptoms, pray?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> The old symptoms, sir&mdash;in the first place, frequent fits of my
+complaint.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> <i>Your</i> complaint?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, thinking, long reveries, sudden starts, sentimental sighs,
+fits of unobserving absence, fidgets and fevers, orders and counter
+orders, loss of memory, loss of appetite, loss of rest, and loss of your
+senses, if I may be allowed the expression.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No, sir, you may not be allowed the expression&mdash;&#8217;tis
+impertinent, &#8217;tis false. I never was unobserving or absent; I never had
+the fidgets; I never once mentioned the name of my adored Helen; and,
+heigho! I never sighed for her in my life!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Nor I, sir; though I&#8217;ve been married these three years, I never
+once sighed for my dear wife in all that time&mdash;heigho!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I mustn&#8217;t be angry with the fellow. Why, I took you for an
+unobserving blockhead, or I would never have trusted you so near me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Then, sir, you <i>mis</i>-took me. I fancy it was in one of your most
+decided unobserving fits that you took <i>me</i> for a blockhead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Well, sir; I see you have discovered my secret. Act wisely, and
+it may be of service to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, I haven&#8217;t studied the law for nothing. I&#8217;m no fool, if I may
+be allowed the expression.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I begin to suspect you have penetration enough to be useful to
+me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> And craving your pardon, sir, I begin to suspect your want of
+that faculty, from your not having found out that before.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I will now trust you, although once my servant, with the state
+of my heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, that&#8217;s very kind of you, to trust your humble servant with a
+<i>secret</i> he had himself discovered ten months ago.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Keep it with honour and prudence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, I <i>have</i> kept it. Nobody knows of it, that I know of, except
+a few of your friends, many of your enemies, most travelling strangers,
+and all your neighbours.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Why, zounds! you don&#8217;t mean to say that any body, except
+yourself, suspects me to be in love.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Suspects! no, sir; <i>suspicion</i> is out of the question; it is
+taken as a proved fact in all society, a bill found by every grand jury
+in the county.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> The devil it is! Zounds! I shall never be able to show my
+face&mdash;this will never do&mdash;my boasted disdain of ever bowing to the power
+of love&mdash;how ridiculous will it now render me&mdash;while the mystery and
+sacred secrecy of this attachment constituted the chief delight it gave
+to the refinement of my feelings&mdash;O! I&#8217;ll off to sea again&mdash;I won&#8217;t stay
+here&mdash;order a post-chaise&mdash;no&mdash;yes&mdash;a chaise and four, d&#8217;ye hear?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir; but I&#8217;m thinking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> What?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> That it is possible you may alter your mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No such thing, sir; I&#8217;ll set off this moment; order the chaise,
+I say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Think of it again, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Will you obey my orders, or not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I think I will. (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) Poor gentleman! now could I blow him up
+into a blaze in a minute, by telling him that his mistress is just on
+the point of marriage with his cousin, but though they say &ldquo;ill news
+travels apace,&rdquo; they shall never say that I rode postillion on the
+occasion. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit into inn.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Here&#8217;s a discovery! all my delicate management destroyed! known
+all over the country! I&#8217;m off! and yet to have travelled so far, and not
+to have one glimpse of her! but then to be pointed at as a poor devil in
+love, a silly inconsistent boaster! no, that wont do&mdash;but then I may see
+her&mdash;yes, I&#8217;ll see her once&mdash;just once&mdash;for three minutes, or three
+minutes and a half at most&mdash;no longer positively&mdash;Ponder, Ponder!
+(<span class="stagedir">enter Ponder</span>) Ponder, I say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I wish you wouldn&#8217;t interrupt me, for I&#8217;m thinking&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Damn your thinking, sir!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I was only thinking that you may have altered your mind already.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I have not altered my mind: but since I <i>am</i> here, I should be
+wanting in duty not to pay my respects to my father; so march on with
+the trunk, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir: but if that&#8217;s all you want to do, sir, you may spare
+yourself the trouble of going further, for, most fortunately, here he
+comes; and your noble cousin, lord Austencourt, with him&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> The devil!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir; the devil, and his uncle, your father, if I may be
+allowed the expression. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>sir Rowland</em> and <em>lord Austencourt</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> My dear father, I am heartily glad to see you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> How is this, Charles! returned thus unexpectedly?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Unexpected pleasure, they say, sir, is always most welcome&mdash;I
+hope you find it so.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> This conduct, youngster, requires explanation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Sir, I have it ready at my tongue&#8217;s end&mdash;My lord, I ask your
+pardon&mdash;I&#8217;m glad to see you too.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I wish, sir, I could return the compliment; but this
+extraordinary conduct&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No apologies, my lord, for your civil speech&mdash;you might easily
+have returned the compliment in the same words, and, believe me, with as
+much sincerity as it was offered.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> This is no time for dissention, sir&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> My cousin forgets, sir Rowland, that although united by ties
+of consanguinity, <i>birth</i> and <i>fortune</i> have placed me in a station
+which commands some respect.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No, my lord, for I also am in a station where I <i>too</i> command
+respect, where I respect and am respected. I therefore well know what is
+due to my superiors; and this duty I never forget, till those above me
+forget what they owe to themselves.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I am not aware, good cousin, that I have ever yet forfeited my
+title to the respect I claim.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> You have, my lord: for high rank forfeits every claim to
+distinction when it exacts submissive humility from those beneath it,
+while at the same time it refuses a graceful condescension in exchange.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Charles, Charles, these sentiments but ill become the dependent
+state in which Fortune has placed you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Dependent state! Dependent upon whom! What, on <i>him</i>! my titled,
+tawdry cousin there? What are his pretensions, that he shall presume to
+brand me as a poor dependent!&mdash;What are <i>his</i> claims to independence?
+How does he spend the income Fortune has allotted to him? Does he
+rejoice to revive in the mansion of his ancestors the spirit of old
+English hospitality? Do the eyes of aged tenants twinkle with joy when
+they hope his coming? do the poor bless his arrival? I say no. He is the
+lord of land&mdash;and is also, what he seems still more proud of, a lord of
+parliament; but I will front him in both capacities, and frankly tell
+him, that in the first he is a burthen to his own estate, and not a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p11" id="page_p11">11</a></span>
+benefactor; and in the second, a peer but not a prop.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Charles, how dare you thus persevere! You cannot deny, rash and
+foolish boy, that you are in a dependant state. Your very profession
+proves it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> O, father, spare that insult! The profession I glory to belong
+to, is above dependence&mdash;yes! while we live and fight, we feel, and
+gratefully acknowledge, that our pay depends on our king and country,
+and therefore you <i>may</i> style us dependant; but in the hour of battle we
+wish for nothing more than to show that the glory and safety of the
+nation <i>depends on us</i>; and by our death or blood to repay all previous
+obligation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Dismiss this subject.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> With all my heart&mdash;My cousin was the subject, and he&#8217;s a
+fatiguing one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Though you do not love your cousin, you ought to pay that
+deference to his rank which you refuse to his person.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Sir, I do; like a fine mansion in the hands of a bad inhabitant.
+I admire the building, but despise the tenant.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> This insolence is intolerable, and will not be forgotten. You
+may find, hot sir, that Where my friendship is despised, my resentment
+may be feared. I well know the latent motives for this insult. It is the
+language of a losing gamester, and is treated with deserved contempt by
+a <i>successful rival</i>. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Ha! a <i>successful rival</i>! Is this possible?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir. R.</span> It is. The treaty of marriage between lord Austencourt and
+Helen is this morning concluded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> And does she consent?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> There can be little doubt of that.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> But <i>little</i> doubt! False Helen! Come, come, I know my Helen
+better.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I repeat my words, sir. It is not the curse of every parent to
+have a disobedient child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> By Heaven, sir, that reflection cuts me to the heart. You have
+ever found in me the obedience, nay more, the affection of a son, till
+circumstance on circumstance convinced me, I no longer possessed the
+affection of a father.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Charles, we are too warm. I feel that I have in some degree
+merited your severe reproof&mdash;give me your hand, and to convince you that
+you undervalue my feelings towards you, I will now confess that I have
+been employed during your absence, in planning an arrangement which will
+place you above the malice of fortune&mdash;you know our neighbour, Mrs.
+Richland&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> What, the gay widow with a fat jointure? What of her?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> She will make not only a rich, but a good wife. I know she
+likes you&mdash;I&#8217;m sure of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Likes <i>me</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I am convinced she does.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> But&mdash;what the devil&mdash;she doesn&#8217;t mean to marry me surely!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> That will, I am convinced, depend upon yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Will it? then by the Lord, though I sincerely esteem her, I
+shall make my bow, and decline the honour at once. No, sir; the heart is
+<i>my</i> aim, and all the gold I care for in the hand that gives it, is the
+modest ring that encompasses the finger, and marks that hand as mine
+forever.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Thus I see another of my prospects blighted! Undutiful,
+degenerate boy! your folly and obstinacy will punish themselves. Answer
+me not; think of the proposal I have made you; obey your father&#8217;s will,
+or forever I renounce you! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Whoo! here&#8217;s a whirligig! I&#8217;ve drifted on to a pleasant lee
+shore here! Helen betrothed to another! Impossible.&mdash;Oh Helen! Helen!
+Zounds! I&#8217;m going to make a soliloquy! this will never do! no, I&#8217;ll see
+Helen; upbraid her falsehood; drop one tear to her memory; regain my
+frigate; seek the enemy; fight like a true sailor; die like a Briton;
+and leave my character and memory to my friends&mdash;and my blessing and
+forgiveness to Helen. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">End of act II.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h4 class="act"><a name="act_III" id="act_III"></a>ACT III.</h4>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_III_i" id="act_III_i">SCENE
+I.</a>&mdash;<i><em>O&#8217;Dedimus&#8217;s</em> office.
+<em>Ponder</em> discovered.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ponder.</span> So! having executed my commission, let me <i>think</i> a little
+(<span class="stagedir">sits down,</span>) for certain I and my master are two precious rogues
+(<span class="stagedir">pauses.</span>) I wonder whether or not we shall be discovered, as
+assistants in this sham marriage (<span class="stagedir">pauses.</span>) If we <i>are</i>, we shall be
+either transported or hanged, I wonder which:&mdash;My lord&#8217;s bribe, however,
+was convenient; and in all cases of <i>conscience versus convenience</i>,
+&#8217;tis the general rule of practice to nonsuit the plaintiff. Ha! who&#8217;s
+here? The poor girl herself. (<span class="stagedir">Enter Fanny.</span>) I pity her; but I&#8217;ve been
+bribed; so I must be honest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Oh, sir! I&#8217;m in sad distress&mdash;my father has discovered my
+intercourse with lord Austencourt, and says, he is sure my lord means to
+deny our marriage; but I have told him, as you and your master were
+present, I am sure you will both be ready to prove it, should my lord
+act so basely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I must mind my hits here, or shall get myself into a confounded
+scrape&mdash;ready to do what, did you say, ma&#8217;am, to prove your marriage?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Yes, as you both were present.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Present! me! Lord bless me, what is it you mean? Marriage! prove!
+me! present!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Why do you hesitate? come, come, you do but jest with me&mdash;you
+cannot have forgotten it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Hey? why no! but I can&#8217;t say I remember it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Sure, sure, you cannot have the barbarity to deny that you were a
+witness to the ceremony!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I may be mistaken&mdash;I&#8217;ve a remarkably short memory; but to the
+best of my recollection I certainly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Ay, you recollect it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I certainly <i>never was</i> present&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Cruel! you were&mdash;indeed, indeed you were.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> But at one wedding in my life.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> And that was mine&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> No, that was mine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> Merciful Heaven! I see my fate&mdash;it is disgrace and misery!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can&#8217;t&mdash;however I&#8217;ll
+speak to my master about it, and if <i>he</i> recollects it I dare say <i>I</i>
+shall.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is
+decided.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what
+they are thinking of&mdash;they&#8217;re coming this way. <i>I</i> think we had better
+retire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fan.</span> O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from
+scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> You can&#8217;t escape that way, so you must come this. They wont think
+of coming here. (<span class="stagedir">puts her into another room</span>) Poor girl! I&#8217;ve a great
+mind to confess the whole affair. What shall I get by that? Nothing!
+nothing! Oh! that&#8217;s contrary to law! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p12" id="page_p12">12</a></span>
+Enter <em>lord Austencourt</em> and <em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Are you certain no one can overhear us?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> There&#8217;s nobody can hear us except my ould
+<ins class="correction" title="inconsistently hyphenated">housekeeper</ins>,
+and she&#8217;s as deaf as St. Dunstan&#8217;s clock-strikers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> There is no time to be lost. You must immediately repair to
+Fanny&mdash;tell her my affection is unabated&mdash;tell her I shall ever love
+her, and make her such pecuniary offers, as shall convince her of my
+esteem and affection; but we must meet no more. (<span class="stagedir">Fanny utters a cry
+behind.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> What&#8217;s that?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> We are betrayed!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Och! &#8217;tis only my ould housekeeper.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Your housekeeper! I thought you told me she was deaf.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Yes; but she isn&#8217;t dumb. Devil a word can she <i>hear</i> for
+sartin; but she&#8217;s apt to <i>say</i> a great many, and so we may proceed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> You will easily accomplish this business with Fanny.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I&#8217;m afraid not. To tell you the truth, my lord, I
+don&#8217;t like the job.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Indeed! and why, sir?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes
+brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I&#8217;m more
+apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that
+will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself,
+my lord.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> That, sir, is impossible. If <i>you</i> decline it, I shall find
+some one less delicate.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> There&#8217;s reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may
+not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I&#8217;ll even undertake it myself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will
+be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing
+him&mdash;money, I suppose, is his object.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> May be not&mdash;If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from
+working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately
+tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take
+shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I can dispense with moral reflections&mdash;It may serve your
+purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is
+ridiculous&mdash;What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by
+money he must be removed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Faith, &#8217;tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the
+feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a
+false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny</span> (<span class="stagedir">behind.</span>) Oh, heaven! let me pass&mdash;I must and will see him
+(<span class="stagedir">enters.</span>) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (<span class="stagedir">she falls at his feet,
+he raises her</span>) Surely my ears deceived me&mdash;you cannot, cannot mean it!
+a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy
+kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with
+grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I
+will love, forgive, will pray for you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> This is a plot against me&mdash;You placed her there on purpose to
+surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery
+to Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus, attorney at law.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Fanny, I entreat you, leave me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to
+shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Ha! leave me, I charge you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I
+fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked
+men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in
+dreadful evidence against you! &#8217;Tis Heaven itself! &#8217;tis there your vows
+were heard! &#8217;tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered!
+then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and
+retreat! reflect that we are married!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Do not command me from you; I see your heart is softened by my
+tears; cherish the stranger Pity in your breast; &#8217;tis noble, excellent!
+Such pity in itself is virtue! Oh, cherish it, my lord! nor let the
+selfish feelings of the world step in to smother it! Now! now, while it
+glows unstifled in your heart! now, ere it dies, to be revived no more,
+at once proclaim the triumph of your virtue, and receive into your arms
+a fond and an acknowledged wife!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Ha! impossible! Urge me no more! I cannot, will not hear
+you&mdash;My heart has ever been your own, my <i>hand must</i> be another&#8217;s; still
+we may love each other; still we may sometimes meet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> (<span class="stagedir">after a struggle</span>) I understand you! No, sir! Since it must
+be, we will meet no more! I know that there are laws; but to these laws
+I disdain to fly! Mine is an injury that cannot be redressed; for the
+only mortal witnesses to our union you have suborned: the laws,
+therefore, cannot do me justice, and I will never, inhuman as you are, I
+will never seek them for revenge. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) I&#8217;m thinking, that if I was a lord, I should act in a
+clean <i>contrary</i> way; by the powers now, that man has got what I call a
+tough constitution; his heart&#8217;s made of stone like a brick wall&mdash;Oh!
+that a man should have the power of a man, and not know how to behave
+like a man!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> What&#8217;s to be done? speak, advise me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s it: have you made up your mind already, that you ask me
+to advise you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I know not how to act.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> When a man&#8217;s in doubt whether he should act as an honest man or
+a rogue, there are two or three small reasons for choosing the right
+side.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> What is&#8217;t you mean, sir?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I mean this thing&mdash;that as I suppose you&#8217;re in doubt whether to
+persecute the poor souls, or to marry the sweet girl in right earnest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Marry her! I have no such thoughts&mdash;idiot!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Idiot! That&#8217;s no proof of your lordship&#8217;s wisdom to come and
+ask advice of one.&mdash;Idiot, by St. Patrick! an idiot&#8217;s a fool, and that&#8217;s
+a Christian name was never sprinkled upon Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus, attorney
+at law!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I can feel for the unfortunate girl as well as you; but the
+idea of marrying her is too ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> The unfortunate girl never knew misfortune till she knew you,
+my lord; and I heartily wish your lordship may never look more
+ridiculous than you would do in performing an act of justice and mercy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> You presume strangely, sir, on my confidence and
+condescension!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> What! are you coming over me now with the pride of your
+condescension. <i>That</i> for your condescension! When a great man, my lord,
+does me the honour to confide in me, he&#8217;ll find me trusty and
+respectful; but when he condescends to make me an agent and a partner in
+his iniquity, by your leave from that moment there&#8217;s an end of
+distinction between us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> There&#8217;s no enduring this! Scoundrel!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Scoundrel! ditto, my lord, ditto! If I&#8217;m a scoundrel, it was
+you that made me one, and by St. Patrick, there&#8217;s a brace of us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) The fellow has me in his power
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p13" id="page_p13">13</a></span>
+at present&mdash;you see
+me irritated, and you ought to bear with me&mdash;let us think of this no
+more. The father and daughter must both be provided for out of that
+money which sir Rowland still holds in trust for me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And if you depend upon that money to silence the old man, you
+might as well think to stop a mouse-hole with toasted cheese.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Pray explain, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Devil a penny of it is there left. Sir Rowland ventured it in a
+speculation, and all is lost&mdash;Oh! blister my tongue, I&#8217;ve let out the
+secret, sure enough!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Indeed! and what right had sir Rowland to risk my property? Be
+assured I will exact every guinea of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s just what I told him. Sir, says I, his lordship is one
+of the flinty-hearted ones, and devil a thirteener will he forgive
+you&mdash;but, my lord, it will utterly ruin sir Rowland to replace it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Sir Rowland should have thought of that before he embarked my
+property in a hazardous enterprise. Inform him, sir, from me that I
+expect an instant account of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I shall do that thing, sir: but please to reflect a little&mdash;the
+money so laid out was honestly intended for your advantage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Another word sir, and I shall think it necessary to employ
+another attorney.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sir, that&#8217;s a quietus&mdash;I&#8217;ve done&mdash;only remember that if you
+proceed to extremities, I warrant you&#8217;ll repent it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> <i>You</i> warrant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Ay, sir, and a warrant of attorney is reckoned decent good
+security.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Since my uncle has so far forgotten his duty as a guardian, I
+have now an opportunity, which I shall not neglect, to bring him to a
+proper recollection&mdash;you have nothing to do but to obey my orders; and
+these are that the fourteen thousand pounds, of which he has defrauded
+my estate, shall be immediately repaid. Look to it, sir, and to the
+other affair you are entrusted with, and see that the law neglects no
+measures to recover what is due to me. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And by St. Patrick, if the law gives you what is due to you,
+that&#8217;s what I&#8217;m too polite to mention. You&#8217;ve had your swing in iniquity
+long enough, and such swings are very apt to end in one that&#8217;s much too
+exalted for my notions. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_III_ii" id="act_III_ii">SCENE
+II.</a>&mdash;<i>an apartment at <em>sir Willoughby&#8217;s</em>.&mdash;Enter <em>sir Willoughby</em>,
+and <em>William</em> meeting him, the latter delivers a letter.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> The gentleman desired me to say he is below, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Hey! (<span class="stagedir">reads</span>) &ldquo;My dear Worret, I hope that a long absence from
+my native land has not obliterated the recollection of our friendship. I
+have thought it right to adopt this method of announcing my return, lest
+my too sudden appearance should hurt <i>your</i> feelings, by deranging the
+<i>delicate nerves</i> of your <i>amiable lady</i>&rdquo; Hey!</p>
+
+<p class="signoff">&ldquo;Ever yours,</p>
+<p class="signature">&ldquo;FREDERICK FALKNER.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Bless my soul! Falkner alive? show the gentleman up.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Will.</span> He&#8217;s here, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Falkner</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> My old friend, I rejoice to see you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Friend Falkner, I shan&#8217;t attempt to say how welcome your return
+is. We all thought you dead and buried. Where have you been all these
+years?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> A wanderer. Let that suffice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> I see you still retain your old antipathy to answering
+questions, so I shall ask none&mdash;Have you been in France, or among the
+savages? Hey! I remember you had a daughter at school&mdash;is she alive? is
+she merry or miserable? Is she married?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Zounds what a medley! France and savages! marriage and misery!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Ods life, I&#8217;m happy to see you! I haven&#8217;t been so cheerful or
+happy for many a day.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> How&#8217;s your wife?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Hey! thank ye, sir! why that excellent good woman is in high
+health, in astonishing health! by my troth I speak it with unspeakable
+joy, I think she&#8217;s a better life now than she was when I married her!
+(<span class="stagedir">in a melancholy tone.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> That must be a source of <i>vast comfort</i> to you. I
+don&#8217;t wonder at your being so cheerful and happy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> True&mdash;but it isn&#8217;t <i>that</i>&mdash;that is, not altogether so: no, &#8217;tis
+that I once more hold my friend Falkner by the hand, and that my
+daughter&mdash;you remember your little favourite Helen&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I do indeed!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> You are arrived at a critical moment: I mean shortly to marry
+her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I forbid the banns!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> The devil you do!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> Pshaw! (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) my feelings o&#8217;erstep my discretion. Take
+care what you&#8217;re about&mdash;If you&#8217;re an honest man, you&#8217;d rather see her
+dead than married to a villain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> To be sure I would; but the man I mean her to marry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> Perhaps will never be her husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> The devil he wont! why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> Talk of something else&mdash;you know I was always an eccentric
+being&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> What the devil does he mean? yes, yes you was always eccentric;
+but do you know&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I know more than I wish to know; I&#8217;ve lived long enough in
+the world to know that roguery fattens on the same soil where honesty
+starves; and I care little whether time adds to information which opens
+to me more and more the depravity of human nature.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why, Falkner, you are grown more a misanthrope than ever.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> You know well enough I have had my vexations in life; in an
+early stage of it I married&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Every man has his trials!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> About two years afterwards I lost my wife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That was a heavy misfortune! however you bore it with
+fortitude.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I bore it easily; my wife was a woman without feelings: she
+had not energy for great virtue, and she had no vice, because she had no
+passion: life with her was a state of stagnation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> How different are the fates of men!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> In the next instance, I had a friend whom I would have
+trusted with my life&mdash;with more&mdash;my honour&mdash;I need not tell you then I
+thought him the first of human beings; but I was mistaken&mdash;he understood
+my character no better than I knew his: he confided to me a transaction
+which proved him to be a villain, and I commanded him never to see me
+more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Bless me! what was that transaction?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> It was a secret, and has remained so. Though I should have
+liked to hang the fellow, he had trusted me, and no living creature but
+himself and me at this day is possessed of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Strange indeed; and what became of him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I have not seen him since, but I shall see him in a few
+hours.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Indeed, is he in this neighbourhood?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> That circumstance of my friend, and a loss in the West
+Indies, which shook the fabric of my fortune to its foundation, drove me
+from the world&mdash;I am now returned to it with better
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p14" id="page_p14">14</a></span>
+prospects&mdash;my
+property, which I then thought lost, is doubled&mdash;circumstances have
+called me hither on an important errand, and before we are four and
+twenty hours older, you may see some changes which will make you doubt
+your own senses for the remainder of your days&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> You astonish me mightily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> Yes, you stare as if you were astonished: but why do I stay
+chattering here? I must be gone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir. W.</span> Nay, pr&#8217;ythee now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> Pshaw! I have paid my first visit to you, because you are the
+first in my esteem: don&#8217;t weaken it by awkward and unseasonable
+ceremony&mdash;I must now about the business that brings me here: no
+interruption, if you wish to see me again let me have my own way, and I
+may, perhaps, be back in half an hour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> But I want to tell you that&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> I know&mdash;I know&mdash;you want to prove to me that you are the least
+talker, and the best husband in the county: but both secrets must keep
+till my return, when I shall be happy to congratulate you&mdash;and so
+farewell&mdash;<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Bless my soul! what can he mean? &lsquo;I forbid the banns&rsquo;&mdash;&lsquo;lost my
+wife&rsquo;&mdash;&lsquo;horrid transaction&rsquo;&mdash;&lsquo;back again in half an hour&rsquo;&mdash;dear
+me&mdash;John&mdash;Thomas! lady Worret! Helen! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_III_iii" id="act_III_iii">SCENE
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;II&rsquo;">III</ins>.</a>&mdash;<i>A
+room in <em>sir Willoughby&#8217;s</em>
+house&mdash;<em>Helen</em> and <em>Charles</em> meeting&mdash;<em>Helen</em>
+screams&mdash;they run towards each other, as if to
+embrace&mdash;<em>Charles</em> stops suddenly.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Charles! is it <i>you</i>, or is it your <i>spirit</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> &#8217;Tis I, madam, and you&#8217;ll find I have brought my spirit with me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Hey! why what the deuce ails the man?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> My presence here, no doubt astonishes you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Yes, sir,
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;you&rsquo;">your</ins>
+presence <i>does</i> astonish me, but your manner still more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I understand you&mdash;you would still keep a poor devil in your
+toils, though in his absence you have been sporting with <i>nobler</i> game.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> My good friend, will you descend from your heroical stilts, and
+explain your meaning in plain English?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> There needs no explanation of my conduct&mdash;call it caprice&mdash;say,
+if you please, that <i>I</i> am <i>altered</i>&mdash;say <i>I have changed my mind</i>, and
+love another better&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Indeed! and is it come to this! he shall not see he mortifies
+me, however&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) Since you are in this mind, sir, I wish you had
+been pleased to signify the same by letter, sir&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> By letter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Yes, sir,&mdash;for this personal visit being rather unexpected, does
+not promise to be particularly pleasant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I believe so, madam&mdash;you did not calculate, I fancy, on this
+<i>sudden</i> return.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No, indeed, sir&mdash;and should have shown all Christian patience
+if this <i>sudden</i> return hadn&#8217;t happened these <i>twelve months</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> The devil you would! madam!&mdash;but I&#8217;ll be cool&mdash;I&#8217;ll cut her to
+the heart with a razor of ice&mdash;I&#8217;ll congeal her with indifference&mdash;you
+must know, madam&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Bless me, Charles, how very strangely you look&mdash;you&#8217;re pale and
+red, and red and pale, in the same moment! why you can scarcely breathe!
+and now you tremble so! I&#8217;m afraid you are very ill.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Sarcastic!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> You move all over like a ship in a storm!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Vastly well, madam&mdash;and now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Your teeth chatter!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Fire and fagots, madam, I <i>will</i> speak!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Do, dear Charles, while your are able&mdash;your voice will be gone
+in a minute or two, and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I will be heard! (<span class="stagedir">bawling</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> That you will, indeed, and all over the house, too.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Madam, will you hear me or not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I am glad to find there&#8217;s no affection of the lungs!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Death and torments! may I be allowed to speak&mdash;yes, or no?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Yes, but gently; and make haste before they call the watch.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Madam, madam&mdash;I wish to keep my temper&mdash;I wish to be cool.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Perhaps this will answer the purpose (<span class="stagedir">Fanning him</span>).</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> (<span class="stagedir">In confusion, after a pause, aside</span>) Is she laughing at me
+now, or trying to wheedle me into a good humour? I feel, Miss Worret,
+that I am expressing myself with too much warmth&mdash;I must therefore
+inform you, that being ordered home with despatches, and having some
+leisure time on my hands on my return, I thought it but proper as I
+passed the house to call at your door&mdash;just to say&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;just civilly
+to say&mdash;false! cruel! perfidious girl! you may break the tough heart of
+a sailor, but damn me if he will ever own it broke for love of you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> On my honour, sir, I do not understand what all this means.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> You don&#8217;t?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No, sir&mdash;if your purpose here is insult, you might, methinks,
+have found some fitter object than one who has so limited a power to
+resent it! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Going.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Stay, madam, stay&mdash;what a face is there! a smile upon it too:
+oh, Helen, spare those smiles! they once could wake my soul to ecstasy!
+but now they rouse it into madness: save them, madam, for a happier
+lover&mdash;save them for lord Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Charles, Charles, you have been deceived: but come, sit down
+and hear me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience
+which the subject demands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my
+father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all
+other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and
+fortune&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> (<span class="stagedir">Rising in anger</span>) Spare yourself the trouble of further
+explanation, madam; I see the whole at once&mdash;you are now going to tell
+me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the
+canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy
+frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the
+frequented shrine of avarice and ambition!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> (<span class="stagedir">Rising also</span>) When I am next inclined to descend to
+explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Going.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> A moment, madam! The whole explanation lies in a word&mdash;has not
+your father concluded a treaty of marriage between you and lord
+Austencourt?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> He <i>has</i>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> There&mdash;&#8217;tis enough! you have confessed it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> (<span class="stagedir">Stifling her tears</span>) Confessed what? you monster! I&#8217;ve
+confessed nothing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Haven&#8217;t you acknowledged that you are to be the wife of another?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No! won&#8217;t you consent then?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Half an hour ago nothing on earth should have induced me to
+consent&mdash;but since I see, Charles, of what your temper is capable, I
+shall think it more laudable to risk my happiness by obedience to my
+father, than by an ill-judged constancy to one who seems so little
+inclined to deserve it. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p15" id="page_p15">15</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Char.</span> Hey! where am I! zounds, I see my whole error at once! Oh,
+Helen, Helen&mdash;for mercy&#8217;s sake one moment more!&mdash;She&#8217;s gone&mdash;and has
+left me in anger! but I will see her again, and obtain her
+forgiveness&mdash;fool, idiot, dolt, ass, that I am, to suffer my cursed
+temper to master reason and affection at the risk of losing the dearest
+blessing of life&mdash;a lovely and an amiable woman! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">End of act III.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h4 class="act"><a name="act_IV" id="act_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h4>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_IV_i" id="act_IV_i">SCENE
+I.</a>&mdash;<i><em>O&#8217;Dedimus&#8217;s</em> office&mdash;Enter <em>Charles</em> pulling in
+<em>Ponder</em> by the collar.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if
+you expect mercy at my hands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for
+you&#8217;ve already handled me most unmercifully&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">Charles shakes him</span>) what
+would you please to have me confess, sir?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> I have seen old Abel Grouse&mdash;he has told me the story of his
+daughter&#8217;s marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah,
+confess the truth&mdash;were you present, or were you not? out with it
+(<span class="stagedir">shakes him</span>).</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Now pray recollect yourself&mdash;do, sir&mdash;think a little.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Recollect myself?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you&#8217;ll give <i>me</i>
+time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken
+out of my pericranium.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No equivocation, answer directly, or though you&#8217;re no longer my
+servant, by heavens I&#8217;ll&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir&mdash;for heaven&#8217;s sake!&mdash;you&#8217;ll shake nothing more out of me,
+depend on&#8217;t&mdash;if you&#8217;ll be pleased to pause a moment, I&#8217;ll think of an
+answer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> It requires no recollection to say whether you were a
+witness&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> No indeed, sir, ask my master if I was; besides if I had been, my
+conscience wouldn&#8217;t let me disclose it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Your conscience! good, and you&#8217;re articled to an attorney!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> True, sir, but there&#8217;s a deal of conscience in our office; if my
+master knew I betrayed his secrets even to you, I believe (in
+conscience,) he&#8217;d hang me if he could.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> If my old friend O&#8217;Dedimus proves a rogue at last, I shan&#8217;t
+wonder that you have followed his example.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> No, sir, for I always follow my master&#8217;s example, even though it
+should be in the path of roguery; compliment apart sir, I always
+followed yours.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Puppy, you trifle with my patience.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> No indeed, sir, I never play with edg&#8217;d tools.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> You wont acknowledge it then.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir, I&#8217;ll acknowledge the truth, but I scorn a lie.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> &#8217;Tis true I always thought you honest. I have ever trusted
+you, Ponder, even as a friend: I do not believe you capable of deceiving
+me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, (<span class="stagedir">gulping</span>) I can&#8217;t swallow that! it choaks me (<span class="stagedir">falling on
+his knees</span>); forgive me, dear master that <i>was</i>; your threats I could
+withstand, your violence I could bear, but your kindness and good
+opinion there is no resisting; promise you wont betray me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> So; now it comes. I do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Then, sir, the whole truth shall out, they <i>are</i> married, sir,
+and they are <i>not</i> married, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Enigma too!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Yes, sir, they are married, but the priest was ordained by my
+master, and the license was of his own granting, and so they are not
+married, and now the enigma&#8217;s explained.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Your master then is a villain!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> I don&#8217;t know, sir, that puzzles me: but he&#8217;s such an honest
+follow I can hardly think him a rogue&mdash;though I fancy, sir, between
+ourselves, he&#8217;s like the rest of the world, half and half, or like
+punch, sir, a mixture of opposites.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> So! villany has been thriving in my absence. If you feel the
+attachment you profess why did you not confide this to me before?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Sir, truth to speak, I did not tell you, because, knowing the
+natural gentleness of your disposition, which I have so often admired, I
+was alarmed, lest the sudden shock should cause one of those irascible
+fits, which I have so often witnessed, and produce some of those shakes
+and buffets, which to my unspeakable astonishment, I have so often
+experienced.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> And which, I can tell you, you have now so narrowly escaped.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> True sir, I have escaped as narrowly as a felon who gets his
+reprieve five minutes <i>after</i> execution.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Something must be done. I am involved in a quarrel with Helen
+too! curse on my irritable temper.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> So I say, sir&mdash;try and mend it; pray do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> I am resolved to have another interview with her;&mdash;to throw
+myself at her feet, and sue for pardon! Though fate should oppose our
+union, I may still preserve her from the arms of a villain, who is
+capable of deceiving the innocent he could not seduce: and of planting a
+dagger in the female heart, where nature has bestowed her softest
+attributes, and has only left it <i>weak</i>, that man might cherish,
+shelter, and protect it. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> So! now I&#8217;m a rogue both ways&mdash;If I escape punishment one way, I
+shall certainly meet it the other. But if my good luck saves me both
+ways I shall never more credit a fortune-teller: for one once predicted,
+that I was born to be hanged. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_IV_ii" id="act_IV_ii">SCENE
+II.</a>&mdash;<i><em>Sir Rowland&#8217;s.</em></i></h5>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Sir Rowland</em> and <em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> You have betrayed me then!&mdash;Did not I caution you to keep
+secret from my nephew this accursed loss.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And so you did sure enough, but somehow it slipt out before I
+said a word about it; but I told him it was a secret, and I dare say he
+wont mention it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> But you say, that he demands the immediate liquidation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Ay, sir, and has given me orders to proceed against you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Is it possible! in a moment could I arrest his impious
+progress; but I will probe him to the quick, did he threaten me, say
+you?&mdash;There is however one way to save <i>him</i> from this public avowal of
+his baseness, and <i>me</i> from his intended persecution&mdash;a marriage between
+Charles and Mrs. Richland.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> The widow&#8217;s as rich as the Wicklow mines!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> The boy refuses to comply with my wishes; we may find means,
+however, to compel him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> He&#8217;s a sailor; and gentlemen of his kidney are generally pretty
+tough when they take a notion in their heads.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I am resolved to carry my point. I have reason to believe you
+advanced him a sum of money.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p16" id="page_p16">16</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I did that thing&mdash;he&#8217;s a brave fellow; I&#8217;d do that thing again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> You did wrong, sir, to encourage a young spendthrift in
+disobedience to his father.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I did right, sir, to assist the son of a client and the nephew
+of a benefactor, especially when his father hadn&#8217;t the civility to do
+it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Mr. O&#8217;Dedimus, you grow impertinent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sir Rowland, I grow old; and &#8217;tis one privilege of age to grow
+blunt. I advanced your son a sum of money, because I esteemed him. I
+tack&#8217;d no usurious obligation to the bond he gave me, and I never came
+to ask you for security.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> You <i>have</i> his bond then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> I have, sir; his bond and judgment for two hundred pounds.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> It is enough: then you can indeed assist my views,&mdash;the dread
+of confinement will, no doubt, alter his resolution: you must enter up
+judgment, and proceed on your bond.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> If I proceed upon my bond, it will be very much against my
+judgment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> In order to alarm him, you must arrest him immediately.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sir Rowland, I wish to treat you with respect&mdash;but when without
+a blush on your cheek you ask me to make myself a rascal, I must either
+be a scoundrel ready-made to your hands, for respecting you, or a damn&#8217;d
+hypocrite for pretending to do it&mdash;I see you are angry, sir, and I can&#8217;t
+help that; and so, having delivered my message, for fear I should say
+any thing uncivil or ungenteel, I wish you a most beautiful good
+morning. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Then I have but one way left&mdash;my fatal secret must be publicly
+revealed&mdash;oh horror! ruin irretrievable is
+preferable&mdash;never&mdash;never&mdash;that secret shall die with <i>me</i>&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">Enter
+Falkner</span>) as &#8217;tis probably already buried in the grave with Falkner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> &#8217;Tis false&mdash;&#8217;tis buried only in his heart!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Falkner!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> &#8217;Tis eighteen years since last we met. You have not, I find,
+forgotten the theme on which we parted.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Oh, no! my heart&#8217;s reproaches never would allow me! Oh
+Falkner&mdash;I and the world for many years have thought you numbered with
+the dead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> To the world I was so&mdash;I have returned to it to do an act of
+justice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Will you then betray me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> During eighteen years, sir, I have been the depositary of a
+secret, which, if it does not actually affect your life, affects what
+should be dearer than life, your honor. If, in the moment that your
+ill-judged confidence avowed you as the man you are, and robbed me of
+that friendship which I held sacred as my being&mdash;If in that bitter
+moment I concealed my knowledge of your guilt from an imperious
+principle of honor, it is not likely, that the years which time has
+added to my life, should have taught me perfidy&mdash;your secret still is
+safe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Oh, Falkner&mdash;you have snatched a load of misery from my heart;
+I breathe, I live again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Your exultation flows from a polluted source&mdash;I return to the
+world to seek you, to warm and to expostulate; I come to urge you to
+brave the infamy you have deserved; to court disgrace as the punishment
+you merit: briefly to avow your guilty secret.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Name it not for mercy&#8217;s sake! It is impossible! How shall I
+sustain the world&#8217;s contempt, its scorn, revilings and reproaches?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Can he, who has sustained so long the reproaches of his
+conscience, fear the world&#8217;s revilings?&mdash;Oh, Austencourt! Once you had a
+heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Sir, it is callous now to every thing but shame; when it lost
+<i>you</i>,
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;it&#8217;s&rsquo;">its</ins>
+dearest only friend, its noblest feelings were extinguished:
+my crime has been my punishment, for it has brought on me nothing but
+remorse and misery: still is my fame untainted by the world, and I will
+never court its contumely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> You are determined&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I am!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Have you no fear from me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> None! You have renewed your promise, and I am safe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Nothing then remains for me but to return to that obscurity from
+whence I have emerged&mdash;had I found you barely leaning to the side of
+virtue, I had arguments to urge that might have fixed a wavering
+purpose; but I find you resolute, hardened and determined in guilt, and
+I leave you to your fate.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Stay, Falkner, there is a meaning in your words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> A dreadful precipice lies before you: be wary how you tread!
+there is a being injured by your&mdash;&mdash;by lord Austencourt, see that he
+makes her reparation by an immediate marriage&mdash;look first to that.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> To such a degradation could <i>I</i> forget my noble ancestry, <i>he</i>
+never will consent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Look next to yourself: he is not a half villain, and it is not
+the ties of consanguinity will save you from a jail. Beware how you
+proceed with Charles&mdash;you see I am acquainted with more than you
+suspected; look to it, sir; for the day is not yet passed that by
+restoring you to virtue, may restore to you a friend; or should you
+persevere in guilty silence, that may draw down unexpected vengeance on
+your head&mdash; <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Mysterious man! a moment stay! I cannot live in this dreadful
+uncertainty! whatever is my fate, it shall be decided quickly. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_IV_iii" id="act_IV_iii">SCENE
+III.</a>&mdash;<i>An apartment at <em>sir Willoughby&#8217;s</em>; a door in the flat.
+Enter <em>Helen</em> and <em>Charles</em>.</i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I tell you, it is unless to follow me, sir. The proud spirit
+you evinced this morning, might have saved you methinks from this
+meanness of solicitation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Surely now a frank acknowledgment of error deserves a milder
+epithet than meanness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> As you seem equally disposed, sir, to quarrel with my words, as
+you are to question my conduct, I fear you will have little cause to
+congratulate yourself on this <i>forced</i> and <i>tiresome</i> interview.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> <i>Forced</i> interview! Did ever woman so consider the anxiety of
+a lover to seek explanation and forgiveness! Helen, Helen, you torture
+me; is this generous?&mdash;is it like yourself? surely if you lov&#8217;d me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Charles&mdash;I do love you&mdash;that, is, I <i>did</i> love you, but&mdash;I
+don&#8217;t love you, but (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) ah! now I&#8217;m going to make bad worse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> But <i>what</i>, Helen?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> The violence of temper you have discovered this morning, has
+shown me the dark side of your character; it has given a pause to
+affection, and afforded me time to reflect&mdash;now though I do really and
+truly believe that&mdash;you&mdash;love me Charles.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">behind</span>) I must see my daughter directly&mdash;where is she!</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Tiffany</em> running.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Ma&#8217;am, ma&#8217;am, your father&#8217;s coming up stairs, with a letter
+in his hand, muttering something about Mr. Charles; as sure as life
+you&#8217;ll be discovered.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p17" id="page_p17">17</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Helen.</span> For heav&#8217;n&#8217;s sake hide yourself; I would not have him find you
+here for worlds&mdash;here, step into the music-room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Promise me first your forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Charles, retire, I entreat you&mdash;make haste, he is here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> On my knees&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Then kneel in the next room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Give me but your hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> That is now at my own disposal&mdash;I beseech you go&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">Charles
+just gains the door when enter sir Willoughby with a letter in his hand,
+and Lady Worret.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Gadzooks! Here&#8217;s a discovery!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> A discovery, sir? (<span class="stagedir">Helen looks at the door</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Ay, a discovery
+indeed!&mdash;<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Odslife&rsquo;">Ods life</ins>!
+I&#8217;m in a furious passion!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Dear sir, not with me I hope&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Let me entreat you sir Willoughby to compose yourself;
+recollect that anger is very apt to bring on the gout.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Damn the gout, I must be in a
+passion&mdash;my&mdash;life&mdash;<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;karkye&rsquo;">harkye</ins>,
+daughter&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> They know he&#8217;s here! so I may as well own it at once.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Pray compose yourself, remember we have no <i>proof</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why that&#8217;s true&mdash;that is remarkably true&mdash;I must compose
+myself&mdash;I <i>will</i>&mdash;I <i>do</i>&mdash;I <i>am</i> composed&mdash;and now let me open the
+affair with coolness and deliberation! Daughter, come hither.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Yes, sir&mdash;now for it!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Daughter, you are in general, a very good, dutiful, and
+obedient child&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I know it, papa&mdash;and was from a child, and I always will be.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Allow me, sir Willoughby&mdash;you are in general, child, a very
+headstrong, disobedient, and undutiful daughter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I know it, mamma&mdash;and was from a child, and always will be.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> How, madam!&mdash;Remember, sir Willoughby&mdash;there is a proper
+medium between too violent a severity, and too gentle a lenity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Zounds, madam, in your own curs&#8217;d economy there is no
+medium&mdash;but don&#8217;t bawl so, or we shall be overheard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Sir Willoughby, you are very ill I&#8217;m sure; but I must now
+attend to this business, daughter, we have heard that Charles&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Lady Worret, my love, let <i>me</i> speak&mdash;you know, child, it is
+the duty of an <i>obedient</i> daughter, to <i>obey</i> her parents.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I know it, papa, and when I <i>obey you</i>, I am <i>generally
+obedient</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> In short, child, I say again, we learn that Charles&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Lady Worret, lady Worret, you are too abrupt, od-rabbit it,
+madam, I will be heard: this affair concerns the <i>honor</i> of my family,
+and on this one occasion, I will be my own spokesman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Oh heavens! Your violence affects my brain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Does it? I wish it would affect your tongue, with all my heart:
+bless my soul, what have I said! Lady Worret! lady Worret! you drive me
+out of my senses, and then wonder that I act like a madman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Barbarous man, your cruelty will break my heart, and I shall
+leave you, sir Willoughby, to deplore my loss, in unavailing despair,
+and everlasting anguish. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) I am afraid not: such despair and anguish will never
+be my&mdash;happy&mdash;lot!&mdash;bless me, how quiet the room is&mdash;what can be&mdash;oh, my
+wife&#8217;s gone! now then we may proceed to business&mdash;and so daughter, this
+young fellow, Charles, has dared to return, in direct disobedience to
+his father&#8217;s commands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I had better confess it all at once&mdash;he has, he has, my dear
+papa. I do confess it was very, very wrong; but pray now do forgive&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> <i>I</i>&mdash;forgive him! never; nor his father will never forgive him;
+sir Rowland writes me here, to take care of you; I have before given him
+my solemn promise to prevent your meeting, and I am sorry to say, I
+haven&#8217;t the least doubt that you know he is here, and will&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I do confess, <i>he</i> is here, papa.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, you&#8217;ll confess it fast enough, now I&#8217;ve found it out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Indeed I was so afraid you would find it out, that I&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the
+village these three hours!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> In the <i>village</i>! Oh, what, you heard he was in the <i>village</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house&mdash;egad
+I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear
+of finding you at a fault, you puss.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Oh! you were afraid he should come <i>here</i>, were you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes; but I&#8217;ll take care he shan&#8217;t; however, as my maxim is (now
+my wife doesn&#8217;t hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can
+possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key,
+&#8217;till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> What! lock me up!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Damme if I don&#8217;t. Come, walk into that room, and I&#8217;ll take the
+key with me. (<span class="stagedir">pointing to the room where Charles entered.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Into <i>that</i> room?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And do you think I shall stay there by myself?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No, no. Here Tiffany! (<span class="stagedir">enter <em>Tiffany</em></span>) Miss Pert here shall
+keep you company. I&#8217;ll have no whisperings through key-holes, nor
+letters thrust under doors.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And you&#8217;ll really lock me up in that room!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Upon my soul I will.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Now, dear papa, be persuaded; take my advice, and don&#8217;t.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> If I <i>don&#8217;t</i>,
+I wish you may be in Charles Austencourt&#8217;s arms
+in three minutes from this present speaking.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And if you <i>do</i>, take my word for it I might be in his arms if
+I chose, in less than two minutes from this present warning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Might you so? Ha, ha! I&#8217;ll give you leave if you can: for
+unless you jump into them out of the window, I&#8217;ll defy the devil and all
+his imps to bring you together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> We shall come together without their assistance, depend on it,
+papa.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Very well; and now, my dear, walk in.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> With all my heart; only remember you had better not. (<span class="stagedir">He puts
+her in.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That&#8217;s a good girl; and you, you baggage, in with you (<span class="stagedir">to
+Tiffany, who goes in.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">shuts the door and locks it</span>) &ldquo;Safe bind, safe find,&rdquo; is one
+of my lady Worret&#8217;s favourite proverbs; and that&#8217;s the only reason why I
+in general dislike it (<span class="stagedir">going.</span>)</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Falkner</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Once more welcome, my dear Falkner. What brings you back so
+soon?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> You have a daughter&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Well, I know I have.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> And a wife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> I&#8217;m much obliged to you for the information. You have been a
+widower some years I believe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> What of that? do you envy me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Envy you! what! because you are a widower? Eh? Zounds, I
+believe he is laughing at me (<span class="stagedir">aside.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p18" id="page_p18">18</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Falk.</span> I am just informed that every thing is finally arranged between
+your lady and his lordship respecting Helen&#8217;s marriage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, every thing is happily settled.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> I am sincerely sorry to hear it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> You are! I should have thought Mr. Falkner, that my daughter&#8217;s
+happiness was dear to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> It is, and therefore I do not wish to see her married to lord
+Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why then what the devil is it you mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> To see her married to the man of her heart, with whom I trust to
+see her as happy&mdash;as you are with lady Worret.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, ha! ha! ha! yes! but you are in jest respecting my
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> No matter! where is Helen?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Safe under lock and key.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Under lock and key!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Ay, in that very room. I&#8217;ve locked her up to keep her from that
+hot-headed young rogue, Charles Austencourt. Should you like to see her?
+She&#8217;s grown a fine young woman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> With all my heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> You&#8217;ll be surprised, I can tell you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> I dare say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> We&#8217;ll pop in upon her when she least expects it. I&#8217;ll bet my
+life you&#8217;ll be astonished at her appearance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not
+marry this lord.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No! Who then?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> The man she loves.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt?
+(<span class="stagedir">opening the door.</span>)</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Lady Worret</em>, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Charles Austencourt!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aloud, and striking the floor with his stick.</span>) Ay, Charles
+Austencourt!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> (<span class="stagedir">entering</span>) Here am I. Who calls?</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center"><em>Helen</em> and <em>Tiffany</em> come forward, and <em>Tiffany</em> goes off.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Fire and fagots! what do I see?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment
+seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Curse me if I can.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you
+introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you
+from her ladyship&#8217;s just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the
+truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing,
+gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my
+arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated,
+and positively and deliberately lock&#8217;d us in together!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Oh! I shall expire!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> I&#8217;ve heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn&#8217;t
+the paragon of the species! Zounds! I&#8217;m in a wonderful passion!
+Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> You <i>may</i> have it explained, papa, but I fear it won&#8217;t be to
+your <i>satisfaction</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> No, sir, nor to her ladyship&#8217;s either, and now, as my
+situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your
+most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an
+agreeable surprise for your friends&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can&#8217;t tell, but if you
+don&#8217;t presently walk out of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Zounds, sir, leave my house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party!
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Thank heaven my house is rid of him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you&#8217;ve made of
+this!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Death and furies, my Lady Worret&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Gently, my old friend, gently: I&#8217;m one too many here during
+these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me
+caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to
+have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master
+of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what
+you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.&mdash; <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Ah! the barbarian!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">appears astonished</span>) I&#8217;m thunderstruck (<span class="stagedir">makes signs to Helen
+to go before.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Won&#8217;t you go first, papa?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Hey? If I lose sight of you till you&#8217;ve explained this
+business, may I be laid up with the gout while you are galloping the
+Gretna Green! &ldquo;Be master of your house and wife if you don&#8217;t wish to
+continue, <i>what you now are</i>!&mdash;Hey? the laughing-stock of all your
+acquaintance!&rdquo; Sir Willoughby Worret the laughing stock of all his
+acquaintance! I think I see my self the laughing-stock of all my
+acquaintance (<span class="stagedir">pointing to the door</span>) I&#8217;ll follow you ladies! I&#8217;ll
+reform! &#8217;tis never too late to mend! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">End of act IV.</p>
+
+<hr class="micro" />
+
+<h4 class="act"><a name="act_V" id="act_V"></a>ACT V.</h4>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_V_i" id="act_V_i">SCENE
+I.</a>&mdash;<i>An apartment at <em>sir Willoughby Worret&#8217;s</em>.
+Enter <em>sir Willoughby</em> and <em>lady Worret.</em></i></h5>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Lady Worret! lady Worret! I will have a reform. I am at last
+resolved to be master of my own house, and so let us come to a right
+understanding, and I dare say we shall be the better friends for it in
+future.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> You shall see, sir Willoughby, that I can change as suddenly
+as yourself. Though you have seen my delicate system deranged on
+<i>slight</i> occasions, you will find that in essential ones I have still
+spirit for resentment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> I&#8217;ll have my house in future conducted as a gentleman&#8217;s should
+be, and I will no longer suffer my wife to make herself the object of
+ridicule to all her servants. So I&#8217;ll give up the folly of wishing to be
+thought a <i>tender</i> husband, for the real honour of being found a
+<i>respectable</i> one. I&#8217;ll make a glorious bonfire of all your musty
+collection of family receipt-books! and when I deliver up your keys to
+an honest housekeeper, I&#8217;ll keep one back of a snug apartment in which
+to deposit a rebellious wife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> That will be indeed the way to make yourself respectable. I
+have found means to manage you for some years, and it will be my own
+fault if I don&#8217;t do so still.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Surely I dream! what? have you <i>managed</i> me? Hey? Zounds! I
+never suspected that. Has sir Willoughby Worret been lead in
+leading-strings all this time? Death and forty devils, madam, have you
+presumed to manage <i>me</i>?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Yes, sir; but you had better be silent on the subject, unless
+you mean to expose yourself to your daughter and all the world.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p19" id="page_p19">19</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Ay, Madam, with all my heart; my daughter and all the world
+shall know it.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Helen</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Here&#8217;s a pretty piece of work!&mdash;what&#8217;s the matter now, I
+wonder?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> How dare you overhear our domestic dissentions. What business
+have you to know we were quarrelling, madam?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Lord love you! if I had heard it, I should not have listened,
+for its nothing new, you know, when you&#8217;re <i>alone</i>; though you both look
+so <i>loving</i> in <i>public</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That&#8217;s true&mdash;that is <i>lamentably</i> true&mdash;but all the world
+<i>shall</i> know it&mdash;I&#8217;ll proclaim it; I&#8217;ll print it&mdash;I&#8217;ll advertise
+it!&mdash;She has usurped my rights and my power; and her fate, as every
+usurper&#8217;s should be, shall be <i>public</i> downfall and disgrace.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> What, papa! and won&#8217;t you let mamma-in-law rule the roast any
+longer?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No,&mdash;I am resolved from this moment no longer to give way to
+her absurd whims and wishes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> You are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Absolutely and immovably.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And you will venture to contradict her?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> On every occasion&mdash;right or wrong.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> That&#8217;s right&mdash;Pray, madam, don&#8217;t you wish me to marry lord
+Austencourt?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> You know my <i>will</i> on that head, Miss Helen!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Then, papa, of course you wish me to marry <i>Charles</i>
+Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> What! no such thing&mdash;no such thing&mdash;what! marry a beggar?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> But you won&#8217;t let mamma rule the roast, will you, sir?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> &#8217;Tis a great match! I believe in that <i>one</i> point we shall
+still agree&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> You may spare your persuasions, Madam, and leave the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> What&mdash;my daughter leave the room? Stay here, Helen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> To be sure I shall&mdash;I came on purpose to tell you the news! oh,
+tis a pretty piece of work!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> What does the girl mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Why, I mean that in order to ruin a poor innocent girl, in our
+neighbourhood, this amiable lord has prevailed on her to consent to a
+private marriage&mdash;and it now comes out that it was all a mock marriage,
+performed by a sham priest, and a false license!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> I don&#8217;t believe one word of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> But I do&mdash;and shall inquire into it immediately.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Such a match for your daughter is not to be relinquished on
+slight grounds; and though his lordship should have been guilty of some
+indiscretion, it will not alter my resolution respecting his union with
+Helen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No&mdash;but it will mine&mdash;and to prove to you, madam, that however
+you may rule your household, you shall no longer rule <i>me</i>&mdash;if the story
+has any foundation&mdash;I say&mdash;she <i>shall not</i> marry lord Austencourt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Shall not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> No, Madam, shall not&mdash;and so ends your management, and thus
+begins my career of new-born authority. I&#8217;m out of leading-strings now,
+and madam, I&#8217;ll manage you, damn me if&mdash;I&mdash;do&mdash;not!
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit <ins class="correction" title="Capital S in original">sir</ins> Willoughby.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> (<span class="stagedir">to Lady W</span>) You hear papa&#8217;s <i>will</i> on that head, ma&#8217;am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> I hear nothing!&mdash;I see nothing!&mdash;I shall go mad with vexation
+and disappointment, and if I do not break his resolution, I am
+determined to break his heart; and my <i>own</i> heart, and <i>your</i> heart, and
+the hearts of all the rest of the family. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> There she goes, with a laudable matrimonial resolution.
+<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;Heighho&rsquo;">Heigho</ins>!
+with such an example before my eyes, I believe I shall never have
+resolution to die an old maid. Oh, Charles, Charles&mdash;why did you take me
+at my word!&mdash;Bless me! sure I saw him then&mdash;&#8217;tis he indeed! So, my
+gentleman, are you there? I&#8217;ll just retire and watch his motions a
+little (<span class="stagedir">retires.</span>)</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Charles Austencourt</em>, cautiously.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> What a pretty state am I reduced to? though I am resolved to
+speak with this ungrateful girl but once more before I leave her for
+ever; here am I, skulking under the enemy&#8217;s batteries as though I was
+afraid of an encounter!&mdash;Yes, I&#8217;ll see her, upbraid her, and then leave
+her for ever! <ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;heighho&rsquo;">heigho</ins>!
+she&#8217;s a false, deceitful&mdash;dear, bewitching girl,
+and&mdash;however, I am resolved that nothing on earth&mdash;not even her tears,
+shall now induce me to forgive her. (<span class="stagedir">Tiffany crosses the stage.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span>
+Ha!&mdash;<ins class="correction" title="text reads &lsquo;karkye&rsquo;">harkye</ins>,
+young woman! pray are the family at home?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> My lady is at home, sir&mdash;would you please to see her?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Your lady&mdash;do you mean your <i>young</i> lady?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> No, sir, I mean my <i>lady</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> What, your <i>old</i> lady?&mdash;No&mdash;I don&#8217;t wish to see her. Are all
+the rest of the family from home&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> No, sir&mdash;sir Willoughby is within&mdash;I&#8217;ll tell him you are
+here. (<span class="stagedir">going.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> By no means&mdash;stay&mdash;stay! what then, they are all at home
+except Miss Helen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> She&#8217;s at home too, sir&mdash;but I suppose she don&#8217;t wish to see
+you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> <i>You suppose!</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> I&#8217;m sure she&#8217;s been in a monstrous ill-humour ever since you
+came back, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> The devil she has!&mdash;and pray now are you of opinion that my
+return is the cause of her ill-humour?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Lord, sir&mdash;what interest have I in knowing such things?&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Interest!&mdash;oh, ho! the old story! why harkye, my dear&mdash;your
+mistress has a lord for her lover, so I suppose he has secured a warmer
+interest than I can afford to purchase&mdash;however, I know the custom, and
+thus I comply with it, in hopes you will tell me whether you really
+think my return has caused your young mistress&#8217; ill-humour&mdash;&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">gives
+money</span>).</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> A guinea! well! I declare! why really, sir&mdash;when I say Miss
+Helen has been out of humour on your account, I don&#8217;t mean to say it is
+on account of your <i>return</i>, but on account of your going away again&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> No! my dear Tiffany!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> And I am sure I don&#8217;t wonder at her being cross about it, for
+if I was my mistress I never would listen with patience (any more than
+she does) to such a disagreeable creature as my lord, while such a
+generous nice gentleman as you was ready to make love to me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> You couldn&#8217;t?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> No, sir&mdash;and I&#8217;m sure she&#8217;s quite altered and melancholy gone
+since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she
+never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">Helen comes
+forward gently.</span>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> My dear Tiffany!&mdash;let me catch the sounds from your rosy
+lips. (<span class="stagedir">Kisses her</span>)&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> (<span class="stagedir">separating them</span>) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business
+here!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;Upon my soul, Madam&mdash;what you saw was&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Ye&mdash;ye&mdash;yes&mdash;upon my word, ma&#8217;am&mdash;what you saw was&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> What I saw was very clear indeed!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Hear me but explain&mdash;you do not understand.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p20" id="page_p20">20</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Helen.</span> I rather think I <i>do</i> understand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Indeed, Ma&#8217;am, Mr. Charles was only <i>whispering</i> something I
+was to tell you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And pray, ma&#8217;am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper
+in that fashion?&mdash;what do you stand stammering and blushing there
+for?&mdash;why don&#8217;t you go?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Tiffany.</span> Yes, ma&#8217;am,&mdash;but I assure you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit Tiffany.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Let me explain this,&mdash;oh, Helen&mdash;can you be surprised?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No, sir, I can&#8217;t be surprised at any thing after what I have
+just witnessed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov&#8217;d
+me, that led me into this confounded scrape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Sir, you should not believe it&mdash;I don&#8217;t love you. I wont love
+you,&mdash;and after what I have just seen, you can&#8217;t expect I should love
+you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man
+who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear
+but very little more&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Poor man! you&#8217;re sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and
+by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn
+animal, having more than you can bear, you&#8217;ll kick a little, and plunge
+a little, and then down on your <i>knees</i> again!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to
+believe you loved me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> &#8217;Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor
+ought to forgive you&mdash;for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to
+you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause?
+surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my
+fond affection?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> No! to be sure I couldn&#8217;t, who could!&mdash;but what should I not
+have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented&mdash;to run
+away with you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Run away with me!&mdash;no!&mdash;zounds I&#8217;ve a chaise in waiting&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Have you?&mdash;then pray let it wait,&mdash;no! no! Charles&mdash;though I
+haven&#8217;t scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect
+for the world&#8217;s opinion,&mdash;let us wait with patience,&mdash;time may rectify
+that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of
+it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the
+hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as
+by the more gradual poison of neglect.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart&mdash;&#8217;tis a <i>rough</i>
+soil I own, but &#8217;tis a <i>warm</i> one; and when the hand of delicacy shall
+have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be
+everlasting love!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Ah you men!&mdash;you men! but&mdash;I think I may be induced to try
+you.&mdash;Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart,
+and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (<span class="stagedir">he
+kisses her hand.</span>) There you needn&#8217;t eat it&mdash;there!&mdash;now make your
+escape, and farewell till we meet again.&mdash;(<span class="stagedir">They are going out
+severally</span>)</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>sir Rowland</em> and <em>sir Willoughby</em>, at opposite sides.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Zounds! my father!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Gad-a-mercy! my papa!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> So, sir! you are here again I find!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy&#8217;s
+conduct does not meet with my sanction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> No! sir Willoughby&mdash;I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets
+with my father&#8217;s sanction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we <i>do</i>
+like, and certain things that we do <i>not</i> like&mdash;now sir, to cut the
+matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either
+your son or your nephew for her husband.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> This is a very sudden <i>change</i>, sir Willoughby&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to
+day!&mdash;I&#8217;ve changed my resolution&mdash;I feel changed myself&mdash;for I&#8217;ve
+changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my
+son-in-law.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the
+last of these changes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Sir, if you&#8217;ll meet me presently at your attorney&#8217;s, the thing
+will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please&mdash;Charles, I
+believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow
+for a son-in-law&mdash;but I think it is rather too much to give twelve
+thousand a year for him&mdash;this way Miss Helen.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit sir Willoughby and Helen.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more
+exasperate him&mdash;I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is
+at hand; my own heart is witness against me&mdash;Heaven is my judge, and I
+have deserved my punishment! <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit sir R.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> So! I&#8217;m much mistaken, or there&#8217;ll be a glorious bustle
+presently at the old lawyer&#8217;s&mdash;He has sent to beg I&#8217;ll attend, and as my
+heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I&#8217;ll e&#8217;en see what&#8217;s going
+forward in <i>that</i>&mdash;whether his intention be to <i>expose</i> or to <i>abet</i> a
+villain, still I&#8217;ll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to
+feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted
+virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares
+to lift his unblushing head on the other. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h5 class="scene"><a name="act_V_ii" id="act_V_ii">SCENE
+II.</a>&mdash;<i><em>O&#8217;Dedimus&#8217;s</em> Office.</i></h5>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em> and <em>Ponder</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> You&#8217;ve done the business, you say!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Ay, and the parties will all be here presently.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s it! you&#8217;re sure you haven&#8217;t blabbed now?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that
+will never be choked by politeness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for
+though they say &ldquo;honesty&#8217;s the best policy&rdquo; a lawyer generally finds his
+purpose better answered by a <i>Policy of Assurance</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> But hark! somebody&#8217;s coming already, step where I told you, and
+make haste.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Pon.</span> On this occasion I lay by the lawyer and take up the Christian.
+Benevolence runs fast&mdash;but law is lazy and moves slowly. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>Falkner</em> as <em>Abel Grouse</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Abel Grouse.</span> I have obeyed your summons. What have you to say in
+palliation of the injury you have done me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Faith and I shall say a small matter about it. What I have done
+I have performed, and what I have performed I shall justify.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Indeed! Can you justify fraud and villany? To business, sir;
+wherefore am I summoned here?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s it! Upon my conscience I&#8217;m too modest to tell you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p21" id="page_p21">21</a></span>
+<span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Nature and education have made you modest: you were born an
+Irishman and bred in attorney&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And take my word for it, when Nature forms an Irishman, if she
+makes some little blunder in the contrivance of his head, it is because
+she bestows so much pains on the construction of his heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> That may be partially true; but to hear <i>you</i> profess
+sentiments of feeling and justice reminds me of our advertising
+money-lenders who, while they practise usury and extortion on the world,
+assure them that &ldquo;the strictest honor and liberality may be relied on;&rdquo;
+and now, sir once more, your business with me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Sure, sir, I sent for you to ask one small bit of a favour.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> From me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Ay, from you; and the favour is, that before you honor me with
+the appellation of scoundrel, villain, pettyfogger, and some other such
+little genteel epithets, you will be pleased to examine my title to such
+distinctions.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> From you, however, I have no hopes. You have denied your
+presence at the infamous and sacrilegious mockery of my daughter&#8217;s
+marriage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s a mistake, sir; I never did deny it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Ha! you acknowledge it then!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That&#8217;s another mistake, sir; for I never did acknowledge it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> Fortunately my hopes rest on a surer basis than your honesty.
+Circumstances have placed in one of my hands the scales of Justice, and
+the other her sword for punishment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Faith, sir, though you may be a fit representative of the old
+blind gentlewoman called Justice, she showed little discernment when she
+pitched upon you, and overlooked Mr. Cornelius O&#8217;Dedimus, attorney at
+law. And now, sir, be pleased to step into that room, and wait a moment,
+while I transact a little business with one who is coming yonder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Ab. Gr.</span> I came hither to obey you; for I have some suspicion of your
+intentions; and let us hope that one virtuous action, if you have
+courage to perform it, will serve as a sponge to all the roguery you
+have committed, either as an attorney or as a man.
+<span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit to an inner room.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> That blunt little fellow has got a sharp tongue in his head.
+He&#8217;s an odd compound, just like a great big roasted potato, all crusty
+and crabbed without, but mealy and soft-hearted within. He takes me to
+be half a rogue and all the rest of me a scoundrel&mdash;Och, by St. Patrick!
+I&#8217;ll bother his brains presently.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>sir Rowland</em>, <em>lord Austencourt</em>, and <em>Charles</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Further discussion, sir, is useless. If I am to be
+disappointed in this marriage, a still more strict attention to my own
+affairs is necessary.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I appeal fearlessly to this man, who has betrayed me, whether
+your interest was not my sole motive in the appropriation of your
+property.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> That assertion, sir, I was prepared to hear, but will not
+listen to.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> <i>Beware</i>, lord Austencourt, <i>beware</i> how you <i>proceed</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Do you again threaten me? (<span class="stagedir">to O&#8217;Dedimus</span>) are my orders
+obeyed? is every thing in readiness?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> The officers are in waiting!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Hold, monster! Proceed at your peril. To me you shall answer
+this atrocious conduct.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> To you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Ay, sir, <i>to me</i>, if you have the courage of a man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I will no longer support these insults. Call in the officers.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>sir Willoughby</em>, <em>lady Worret</em>, and <em>Helen</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Hey! zounds! did you take me and my lady Worret for sheriff&#8217;s
+officers, my lord?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I have one condition to propose&mdash;if that lady accepts my hand,
+I consent to stop the proceedings. That alone can alter my purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Inhuman torturer!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Were my heart as free as air I never would consent to a union
+with such a monster!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> And if <i>you</i> would, curse me if <i>I</i> would&mdash;nor my lady Worret
+either.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Let him
+<ins class="correction" title="spelling as in text">fulful</ins>
+his purpose if he dare! I now see the black
+corruptness of his heart; and though my life were at stake I would pay
+the forfeit, rather than immolate innocence in the arms of such
+depravity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Call in the officers, I say!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> (<span class="stagedir">without moving.</span>) I shall do that thing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> &#8217;Tis justice I demand! Justice and Revenge alike direct me,
+and their united voice shall be obeyed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falkner.</span> (<span class="stagedir">enters suddenly.</span>) They shall! behold me here, thou
+miscreant, to urge it! justice and revenge you call for, and they shall
+both fall heavily upon you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir. R.</span> Falkner!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> What! Abel Grouse, Mr. Falkner! here&#8217;s a transmogrification for
+you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> How! Falkner and the unknown cottager the same person!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Ay, sir; the man who cautioned you today in vain; who warned you
+of the precipice beneath your feet, and was unheeded by you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Amazement! what would you have me do?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Before this company assist me with the power you possess (and
+that power is ample) to compel your haughty nephew to repair the injury,
+which, in a humbler character, he has done me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> He compel me! ridiculous!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> (<span class="stagedir">to sir Rowland.</span>) Insensible to injury and insult, can nothing
+move you? <i>Reveal your secret!</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I&#8217;ll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in
+descending must crush you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of
+insolence and fraud? <i>What</i> am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who
+am I?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and
+shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late
+lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own
+child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and
+blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring&mdash;<i>I changed the
+children.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Merciful Heaven!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> (<span class="stagedir">to lord A.</span>) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster,
+are my son!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish
+me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this
+preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Ay, sir; the law <i>will</i> listen to it, <i>shall</i> listen to it. <i>I</i>,
+sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> You!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you
+see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany;
+and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> Then I am indeed undone!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Shall I call the officers now, my lord?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_p22" id="page_p22">22</a></span>
+Mr. Austencourt, I
+should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen,
+be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just
+exactly what I <i>did not</i> expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery
+of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though
+they haven&#8217;t led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me
+to <i>wink</i> at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now <i>certainly</i>
+lost Miss Helen, I hope he&#8217;ll have no objection to do justice in another
+quarter. <span class="stagedir right"><em>[</em>Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to
+look upon you more?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Charles.</span> Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening
+prospects here (<span class="stagedir">taking Helen&#8217;s hand</span>) to cherish any other feeling than
+forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge
+myself to oblivion of <i>all</i> the past, except the acts of kindness I have
+received from you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> That&#8217;s a noble generous young dog&mdash;My lady Worret, I wonder
+whether he&#8217;ll offer to marry Helen now?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> Of course, after what has passed, you&#8217;ll think it decent to
+refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and
+your will shall in future be mine&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Shall it&mdash;that&#8217;s kind&mdash;then I <i>will</i> refuse him to please you:
+for when you&#8217;re so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside.</span>) Leave me alone to manage him still.</p>
+
+<p class="stagedir center">Enter <em>O&#8217;Dedimus</em>, introducing <em>Fanny</em>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> (<span class="stagedir">seeing Fanny.</span>) Ah, traitor!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you&#8217;ve
+neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt
+gentleman her father, &#8217;tis time to spake out and to tell you that
+instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage
+as you bid me, <i>I</i> have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul,
+by procuring a <i>real</i> priest and a <i>real</i> license, and by St. Patrick
+you are as much <i>one</i> as any <i>two</i> people in England, Ireland, or
+Scotland!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> (<span class="stagedir">after a conflict of passion.</span>) And is this really so?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> You&#8217;re <i>man</i> and <i>wife</i>, sure enough. We&#8217;ve decent proof of
+this, too, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. &#8217;Tis
+the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my
+heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Oh, my lord! my husband!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lord A.</span> It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled
+education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted
+like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will
+my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt
+removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured
+Fanny.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Fanny.</span> Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness!
+My father!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir R.</span> Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of
+restitution.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> My dear father&mdash;no&mdash;no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I
+look for.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> Ah, Charles&mdash;my lord, I mean, I beg pardon&mdash;to be sure papa,
+ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Sir W.</span> Who, me? Not for the world&mdash;hey! mercy on us! I forgot your
+ladyship (<span class="stagedir">aside</span>) do you wish me to decline the honor?</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Lady W.</span> (<span class="stagedir">aside.</span>) Why no, as matters have turned out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Char.</span> Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today!</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">Falk.</span> The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now
+illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="speaker">O&#8217;Ded.</span> And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all;
+for every body knows they&#8217;re the happiest man and wife among us.</p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;"><span class="speaker">Helen.</span> And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace<br />
+The doubtful smile of joy in every face,<br />
+There <i>is</i> a smile, which doubt and danger ends&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+The smile of approbation from our friends.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2em;">THE END.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+</div> <!-- end div play -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic
+Censor, by Samuel James Arnold
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, by
+Samuel James Arnold
+
+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. 2, February 1810
+
+Author: Samuel James Arnold
+
+Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter
+
+Release Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #26628]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [Transcriber's Note:
+
+  Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text.
+
+  The printed book contained the six Numbers of Volume I with their
+  appended plays. The Index originally appeared at the beginning of
+  the volume; it has been included at the end of the journal text of
+  Number 1 (Project Gutenberg EBook #22488), before the play.
+  Pages 109-188 refer to the present Number.]
+
+
+
+
+THE MIRROR OF TASTE,
+
+AND
+
+DRAMATIC CENSOR.
+
+
+Vol. I.  FEBRUARY 1810.  No. 2.
+
+
+
+
+HISTORY OF THE STAGE.
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE DRAMA IN GREECE--ORIGIN OF
+TRAGEDY--THESPIS--AESCHYLUS, "THE FATHER OF THE TRAGIC ART"--HIS
+ASTONISHING TALENTS--HIS DEATH.
+
+
+It has been already remarked that at a very early period, considerably
+more than three thousand years ago, the Chinese and other nations in the
+east understood the rudiments of the dramatic art. In their crude,
+anomalous representations they introduced conjurers, slight of hand men
+and rope dancers, with dogs, birds, monkies, snakes and even mice which
+were trained to dance, and in their dancing to perform evolutions
+descriptive of mathematical and astronomical figures. To this day the
+vestiges of those heterogeneous amusements are discernible all over
+Indostan: but that which will be regarded by many with surprise, is that
+in all countries pagan or christian the drama in its origin, with the
+dancings and spectacles attending it have been intermixed with divine
+worship. The Bramins danced before their god Vishnou, and still hold it
+as an article of faith that Vishnou had himself, "in the olden time"
+danced on the head of a huge serpent whose tail encompassed the world.
+That very dance which we call a minuet, has been proved by an ingenious
+Frenchman, to be the same dance originally performed by the priests in
+the temple of Apollo, and constructed by them, to be symbolical of the
+zodiac; every figure described by the heavenly bodies having a
+correspondent movement in the minuet: the diagonal line and the two
+parallels representing the zodiac generally, the twelve steps of which
+it is composed, representing the twelve signs, and the twelve months of
+the year, and the bow at the beginning and the end of it a profound
+obedience to the sun. About the year four hundred after the building of
+the city of Rome, the Romans, then smarting under great public calamity,
+in order to appease the anger of heaven, instituted theatrical
+performances, as feasts in honour of their gods. The first Spanish plays
+were founded, sometimes on the loves of shepherds, but much more
+frequently on points of theology, such as the birth of Christ, the
+passion, the temptation in the desert and the martyrdom of saints. The
+most celebrated dramatic poet of Portugal, Balthazar, wrote dramas which
+he called AUTOS chiefly on pious subjects--and the prelate Trissino, the
+pope's nuncio, wrote the first regular tragedy, while cardinal Bibiena
+is said to be the author of the first comedy known in Italy, after the
+barbarous ages. The French stage began with the representation of
+MYSTRIES, by the priests, who acted sacred history on a stage, and
+personated divine characters. The first they performed was the history
+of the death of our Saviour, from which circumstance the company who
+acted, gave themselves the name of THE CONFRATERNITY OF THE PASSION: and
+in England one single paper which remains on record, proves that the
+clergy were the first dramatists. This paper is a petition of the clerks
+or clergy of St. Paul's to king Richard the Second, and dated in 1378
+which prayed his majesty to prohibit a company of _unexpert_ people from
+representing the history of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of
+the said clergy, who had been at great charge and expense to represent
+the same at christmas.
+
+It would be little to the purpose, to dwell longer on that part of the
+history of the drama, which lies back in the darkness of remote
+antiquity. Having shown that it did exist, in some shape or other, of
+which but very imperfect traces remain, and of course very inadequate
+notions can be collected, all further inquiry backward would be but the
+loss of so much time and trouble. The scope of human knowledge is
+extended at too heavy a price when the industry which might be more
+usefully applied, is exercised in hunting down origins into the
+obscurity of times so extremely distant. Where the greatest pains have
+been lavished on that sort of research, little knowledge has been
+gained; and the most diligent inquirers have been compelled either to
+confess that they were baffled, or rather than own their disappointment,
+to substitute fable for fact, and pass the fictions of imagination for
+historical truths.
+
+It is in the records of Greece the dramatic art first presents itself in
+the consistent shape and with the circumstantial detail of authentic
+history. There, plays were first moulded into regular form, and divided
+into acts. Yet the people of that country knew so little of its having
+previously existed in any shape, in any other country, that the
+different states contested with each other, the honour of having
+invented it; each asserting its claim with a warmth that demonstrates
+the high sense they entertained of its importance: and surely what such
+a people highly valued is entitled to the respect of all other nations.
+Of the drama, therefore, it might perhaps be enough to say that it was
+nursed in the same cradle with Eloquence, Philosophy, and Freedom, and
+that it was so favourite a child of their common parents, that they
+contended, each for an exclusive right to it. The credit of having first
+given simplicity, rational form, and consequent interest to theatrical
+representations has, by the universal concurrence of the learned, been
+awarded to Attica, whose genius and munificence erected to the drama
+that vast monument the temple of Bacchus, the ruins of which are yet
+discernible and admired by all travellers of taste and erudition.
+
+The origin of tragedy is a subject of curious contemplation. A rich
+planter of Attica, finding, one day, a goat devouring his grapes, killed
+it, and invited the peasantry to come and feast upon it. He gave them
+abundance of wine to drink, intoxicated with which they daubed their
+faces with the lees, ornamented their heads with chaplets made of the
+vine branches, and then danced, singing songs in chorus to Bacchus all
+the while round the animal destined for their banquet. A feast so very
+agreeable was not likely to go unrepeated; and it was soon reduced to a
+custom which was pretty generally observed in Attica, during the
+vintage. On those occasions the peasants, absolved from all reserve by
+intoxication, gave a loose to their animosities against the opulent, and
+in token of defiance of their supposed oppressors, went in bodies to
+their houses, and in set terms of abuse and sarcasm, called aloud for
+redress of their grievances. The novelty of the exhibition drew a
+multitude round them who enjoyed it as a new species of entertainment.
+Far from preventing it, the magistrates authorized the proceeding in
+order that it might serve as an admonition to the rich; taking special
+care, however, that no positive violence should be resorted to, and thus
+making it a wholesome preventive of public disorder. To this yearly
+festival which was called "the feast of the goat" the people of all
+parts were invited; and as this extraordinary spectacle was performed in
+a field near the temple of Bacchus, it was gradually introduced into the
+worship of that god. Hymns to the deity were sung both by priests and
+people in chorus while the goat was sacrificing, and to these hymns the
+name was given of _Tragodia_ (tragedy) or "the song of the goat."
+
+During these exhibitions the vintagers, intoxicated with wine and joy,
+revenged themselves not only on the rich by publishing and satirizing
+their injustice, but on each other with ridicule and sarcasm. In their
+other religious festivals also, choruses of fauns and bacchants chaunted
+songs and held up individuals to public ridicule. From such an humble
+germe has sprung up an art which in all parts of the world has, for
+centuries, administered to the advancement of poetry and elegant
+literature, and to the delight and improvement of mankind.
+
+To these performances succeeded pieces composed by men of poetical
+talents, in some of which the adventures of the gods were celebrated and
+in others the vices and absurdities of individuals were attacked with
+much asperity. The works of all those poets probably died with them; nor
+is there any reason to believe that the loss of them is to be
+regretted--they are mentioned here only because they form a link in the
+chain of this history. By them, such as they were, however, the
+influence of the drama was established so far that it was soon found
+necessary to regulate it by law; the players who entered into
+competition at the Pythian games being enjoined to represent
+successively the circumstances that had preceded, accompanied and
+followed the victory of Apollo over Python. Some years after this, came
+Susarion of Megara, the first inventor of comedy who appeared at the
+head of a company of actors attacking the vices of his time. This was
+562 years before Christ, and in twenty-six years after, that is 536
+before Christ, appeared Thespis.
+
+THESPIS has the credit of being the first inventor of regular tragedy.
+Disgusted with the nonsensical trash exhibited on the subject of
+Bacchus, and indignant, or pretending to be so, at the insult offered by
+such representations to that deity, he wrote pieces of a new kind, in
+which he introduced recitation, leaving Bacchus entirely out, lashing
+the vices and follies of the times, and making use, for the first time,
+of fiction. Though his representations were very rustic and imperfect
+they still make the first great era in the history of the tragic art:
+and they must be allowed to have made no slight impression upon the
+public mind, when it is remembered that they called forth the opposition
+of SOLON, the great lawgiver of Athens; who, on seeing the
+representations of Thespis, sternly observed, that if falsehood and
+fiction were tolerated on the stage they would soon find their way into
+every part of the republic. To this Thespis answered, that the fiction
+could not be harmful which every one knew to be fiction; that being
+avowed and understood, it lost its vicious character, and that if
+Solon's argument were true, the works of Homer deserved to be burned.
+Solon, however, exercised his authority upon the occasion, and
+interdicted Thespis not only from writing but from teaching the art of
+composing tragedies at Athens. Whether Thespis was supported by the
+people in contradiction to Solon, or whether he contrived to follow his
+business in some other part of Attica, out of the jurisdiction of that
+great man, is not known; but he certainly disregarded the interdict, and
+not only wrote tragedies, but instructed others in their composition.
+For Phrynicus, the tragic poet of Athens, (the first who introduced a
+female character on the stage) was his disciple.
+
+In less than half a century after Thespis had, by his ingenuity, so
+improved the dramatic art as to form an era in its history, arose the
+illustrious personage, whose further improvements and astonishing
+poetical talents justly obtained for him the high distinction of "The
+Father of Tragedy." AEschylus, in common with all the natives of Attica,
+was bred to arms. The same genius which, applied to poetry, placed him
+at the head of tragic writers, raised him in the field to a high rank
+among the greatest captains of antiquity. At the celebrated battles of
+Marathon, Salamis and Plataea he distinguished himself in a manner that
+would have rendered his name forever illustrious as a warrior, if the
+splendor of his martial fame were not lost in the blaze of his poetical
+glories. Descended from some of the highest Athenian blood, he was early
+placed under Pythagoras to learn philosophy, and at the age of
+twenty-one was a candidate for the prize in poetry. Thus illustrious as
+a philosopher, a warrior and a poet, it is no wonder that he was held in
+the highest respect and consideration by his countrymen. He wrote
+sixty-six, or, as some say, ninety tragedies, forty of which were
+rewarded with the public prize. Of all these, seven only have escaped
+the ravages of time, and descended to us perfect.
+
+Thespis, who had gone before him, still left the Grecian stage in a
+state of great rudeness and imperfection, and, what was worse, in a
+condition of low buffoonery. Before Thespis tragedy consisted of no more
+than one person, who sung songs in honour of Bacchus. Thespis introduced
+a second performer; such was the state of the Grecian stage when
+AEschylus arose, and made an illustrious epoch in the history of the
+drama. Before him the chorus was the principal part of the performance;
+but he reduced it to the state of an assistant, which was introduced
+between the acts to heighten the effect by recitation or singing, and by
+explaining the subject in its progression. He introduced another actor,
+which made his dramatis personae three. He divided his pieces into acts,
+and laid the foundation of those principles of dramatic poesy upon which
+Aristotle afterwards built his rules. Thespis and his successors before
+AEschylus, acted from a cart in the streets: neither his actors nor
+himself were distinguished by any more than their ordinary dress.
+AEschylus built a theatre, embellished it with appropriate scenery,
+machinery, and decorations, and clothed his actors with dresses suitable
+to their several characters. This would have been effecting much if he
+had done nothing more; but to the theatre which he erected, he added
+plays worthy of being represented with the splendor of such
+preparations. Abandoning the monstrous extravagancies and uncouth
+buffoonery of his predecessors, he took Homer for his guide, and
+composed pieces which for boldness and terrible sublimity have never
+been surpassed. His fiery imagination, when once on the wing, soared
+beyond the reach of earth, and seemed to spurn probability, and to
+delight in gigantic images and tremendous prodigies. No poet ever had
+such talents for inspiring terror. When his tragedy of EUMENIDES was
+represented, many children died through fear, and several pregnant women
+actually miscarried in the house, and it is related of him that nothing
+could surpass the terrible ferocity of his countenance while, under the
+inspiration of his sublime Muse, he composed his tragedies.
+
+The mind of this very extraordinary man was comprehensive, energetic,
+vigorous, and fiery: of him may with equal truth be said what doctor
+Johnson has said of our Shakspeare:
+
+  Existence saw him spurn her wide domain.
+
+For his imagination, daring, wild, and disorderly, resorted to the
+agency of preternatural beings, and in one of his plays called up the
+dead, with a degree of skill which Shakspeare only has surpassed, and
+none but Shakspeare could at all equal. He selected his subjects from
+the highest regions of sublimity, and his morals, always excellent, are
+enforced by the most dreadful examples of divine vengeance. To sum up
+his character in a few words--Longinus, the prince of Critias, says of
+him that he had a noble boldness of expression, with an imagination
+lofty and heroic, and his claim to the sublime has never been contested.
+At the same time it must be owned that his style is, at least to modern
+readers, obscure, and that his works are considered the most difficult
+of all the Greek classics. The improvements he made in the drama seemed
+to his cotemporaries to bespeak an intelligence more than human;
+wherefore, to account for his wonderous works, they had recourse to
+fable, and related that the god Bacchus revealed himself to him
+personally, as he lay asleep under the shade of a vine, commanded him to
+write tragedy, and inspired him with the means. This story is very
+gravely told by the historian Pausanias.
+
+There is little doubt that AEschylus felt a gratification in putting down
+the monstrous rhapsodies to Bacchus and the other deities, with which
+the idolatrous priests of that day blindfolded and deceived the people;
+his plays having frequent cuts upon the gross superstition which then
+darkened the heathen world. For some expressions which were deemed
+impious he was condemned to die. Indeed christian scholars particularly
+mark a passage in one of his tragedies in which he palpably predicts,
+the downfall of Jupiter's authority, as if he had foreseen the
+dispersion of heathenism. The multitude were accordingly going to stone
+him to death when they were won over to mercy by the remonstrances and
+intreaties of his brother Amynias who had commanded a squadron of ships
+at the glorious battle of Salamis, and was regarded as one of the
+principal saviours of his country. This brave man reminded the people
+what they owed to his brother AEschylus for his valour at Marathon and at
+Plataea, and then of what they owed himself for his conduct at Salamis,
+in which bloody but glorious battle he had been chiefly supported by
+that brother whom they were now ungratefully going to put to
+death:--having said this, he threw aside his cloak and exposing his arm
+from which the hand had been cut off, "Behold," he cried--"behold this,
+and let it speak for my brother and myself!" The multitude relented, and
+were all at once clamorous in their applause and benediction of the two
+brothers. The highminded AEschylus however was so incensed at the
+ingratitude of the mob and the slight they put upon him, that he retired
+into Sicily where he lost his life by a most singular accident. Having
+wandered into the fields, an eagle which had mounted into the air with a
+tortoise, for the purpose of dropping it upon a rock in order to break
+the shell, mistaking the bald head of AEschylus for a stone, let the
+animal fall upon it, and killed him on the spot. The Athenians gave him
+the honour of a pompous public funeral with orations, and all that could
+denote their respect for the hero, the philosopher, the poet, and the
+father of the tragic art--and succeeding tragedians made it a ceremony
+to perform plays at his tomb.
+
+To complete the glories of this wonderful man, the ruins of the theatre
+he planned and erected, furnished the Romans with the model, upon which
+they afterwards raised those magnificent edifices which still are the
+objects of admiration and delight with the world, and of imitation with
+the scientific professors of architecture.
+
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MRS. WARREN.
+
+
+Mrs. Ann Warren, whose name has, for some years, stood so high in
+theatrical annals, was the daughter of Mr. John Brunton, who as an actor
+and a manager, maintained a respectable rank in Great Britain, while he
+remained upon the stage; and all his life has been considered a man of
+great worth, and an estimable gentleman. Having received a good
+classical education under the tuition of the reverend Mr. Wilton,
+prebendary of Bristol, Mr. Brunton was bound apprentice to a wholesale
+grocer in Norwich, and when his time was out, married a Miss Friend, the
+daughter of a respectable merchant of that city, soon after which he
+went to London, and entered into business, as a tea-dealer and grocer in
+Drury-Lane. Here he became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Younger, who was
+at the time prompter at Covent Garden theatre, and though no actor
+himself, knew stage business as well as any man in England. Mr. Younger,
+discerning in Mr. Brunton good talents for an actor, advised him to try
+the experiment, and gave him such strong assurances of success, that he
+agreed to make the attempt and actually made his first appearance in the
+character of Cyrus for his friendly adviser's benefit, sometime in the
+year 1774. His reception in this character was so very encouraging that
+he again came forward before the end of the season, and played the
+character of Hamlet for the benefit of Mr. Kniveton. So completely did
+the event justify Mr. Younger's opinion, and evince his discernment that
+Mr. Brunton soon found it his interest to abandon commerce, and take
+entirely to the stage. At this time his eldest daughter, the subject of
+the present memoir, was little more than five years of age. Having
+settled his affairs in London, and sold off his stock in trade, Mr.
+Brunton returned to the city of Norwich in which he got an engagement,
+and met all the encouragement, he could hope for, being considered the
+best actor that had ever appeared on that stage. From this he was
+invited to Bath and Bristol, where he continued to perform for five
+years, and at the end of that time returned to the Norwich theatre of
+which he became manager. Mr. B.'s family had now become very numerous;
+he had six children,--a charge which in England would be thought to lean
+too heavy upon a very large estate--and yet with nothing more than the
+income which he derived from his professional industry, did this
+exemplary father tenderly rear and genteelly educate that family.
+
+From the circumstances of her father's situation, and from her early
+accomplishments and success as an actress, it will be imagined by many,
+that Miss Brunton was early initiated in stage business; that she had
+seen every play acted, and had studied and imitated the many great
+models of her time, the Barrys, the Bellamys, the Yeates, and the
+Siddonses; that under a father so well qualified to instruct her, her
+talents were brought forth in the very bud, by constant exercise, and
+that while yet a child she had learned to personate the heroine. What
+then will the reader's surprise be, when he is informed that she had
+seen very few plays; perhaps fewer than the general run of citizens'
+daughters--and that the stage was never even for an instant contemplated
+as a profession for her till a very short time before her actual
+appearance in public. The fact is, that Mr. Brunton's conduct through
+life was distinguished no less by prudence and discretion, than by a
+lofty regard to the honourable estimation of his family. While he
+himself drudged upon the stage and faced the public eye, his family,
+more dear to him, lived in the repose of retired life, and instead of
+fluttering round the scenes of gayety and dissipation, or haunting the
+theatre before or behind the curtain, Mrs. Brunton trained her children
+to domestic habits, and contented herself with qualifying her daughters
+to be like herself, good wives and mothers. Not in the city but in the
+country near Bath did Mr. Brunton live in an elegant cottage, where his
+little world inhaled the pure air of heaven, and grew up in
+innocence--Mrs. Brunton herself being their preceptress. Nothing was
+farther from his thoughts than that any of his daughters possessed
+requisites for the stage; they were all very young, even the eldest, our
+heroine, had but turned past fifteen, and, exclusive of her youth, had
+a lowness of stature and an exility of person, than which nothing could
+be farther from suggesting ideas of the heroine, or of tragic
+importance, when one day, by desire of her mother, she recited some
+select passages in her father's presence. He listened with mixed
+emotions of astonishment and delight--a new train of thought shot across
+his mind; he put her over and over again to the trial, and at every
+repetition had additional motives to admire and to rejoice. Then, for
+the first time, was he aware of the mine which lay concealed in his
+family under modesty and reserve, and then, for the first time, he
+resolved that she should try her fate upon the stage, his fond heart
+prognosticating that _his_ darling would, ere long, be the darling of
+the people. That she should possess such an affluence of endowment,
+without letting it earlier burst upon her father's sight, is evidence of
+a share of modesty and diffidence as rare as lovely, and well worthy
+imitation, if under the present _regime_ the imitation of such virtues
+were practicable.
+
+As this circumstance exhibits our heroine's private character in a most
+exalted and amiable view, so it demonstrates the native powers of her
+genius. Let it only be considered!--while she yet fell, by two months,
+short of sixteen years of age, or in other words while she had yet
+scarcely advanced a step from the date of childhood, without any
+previous stage practice, without the advantage of studying, in the
+performances of other actresses, what to do, or what to avoid, she comes
+forward, for the first time, in one of the most arduous characters in
+tragedy, and at one flight mounts to the first rank in her profession.
+It is a circumstance unexampled in the records of the stage, and would
+be incredible if not too universally known to be doubted.
+
+Mr. Brunton immediately on discovering the treasure he possessed,
+resolved to bring it forth to public view. The time was nearly at hand
+when he was to take his benefit, and he judiciously thought that there
+could not be a more happy way of introducing her with advantage than in
+the pious office of aiding him on that occasion--nor can the most lively
+imagination, conceive an object more interesting than a creature so
+young, so lovely, and so much wiser than her years standing forward to
+encounter the hazards and the terrors of that most trying situation in
+cheerful obedience to a father's will, and for a father's benefit. The
+selection of the character of Euphrasia for her, while he played the
+aged father, Evander, who is supposed to be sustained by the nourishment
+given from his daughter's bosom, was judicious, as it formed a
+coincidence of fact and fiction, which if it had been only moderately
+supported by her performance, could scarcely fail to excite in every
+bosom, in the house, the most lively and interesting sensations. Nothing
+that paternal affection, and good sense could dictate were wanting on
+the part of Mr. Brunton. Of the short time he had for instructing her,
+no part was lost. The appearance of Mr. Brunton's daughter in Euphrasia,
+with a prologue written for the occasion, was announced, and
+notwithstanding there were not wanting wretches mean and miserable
+enough to trumpet abroad her youth and smallness of stature, as
+insurmountable obstacles to her personating the Grecian daughter, more
+just ideas of her, or perhaps curiosity brought a full house. Mr.
+Brunton himself spoke the prologue, which was written for him by the
+ingenious Mr. Meyler, and was as follows:
+
+  Sweet Hope! for whom his anxious parent burns,
+  Lo! from his tour the travelled heir returns,
+  With each accomplishment that Europe knows,
+  With all that Learning on her son bestows;
+  With Roman wit and Grecian wisdom fraught,
+  His mind has every letter'd art been taught.
+    Now the fond father thinks his son of age,
+  To take an active part in life's vast stage;
+  And Britain's senate opes a ready door,
+  To fill the seat his sire had fill'd before,
+  There when some question of great moment springs,
+  He'll rise--then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings,
+  He speaks--th' enraptur'd list'ning through admire
+  His voice, his argument, his genius' fire!
+  The fond old man, in pure ecstatic joy,
+  Blesses the gods that gave him such a boy!
+  But if insipid Dulness guide his tongue,
+  With what sharp pangs his aged heart is wrung--
+  Despair, and shame, and sorrow make him rue
+  The hour he brought him to the public view.
+    And now what fears! what doubt, what joys I feel!
+  When my first hope attempts her first appeal,
+  Attempts an arduous task--Euphrasia's wo--
+  Her parent's nurse--or deals the deadly blow!
+  Some sparks of genius--if I right presage,
+  You'll find in this young novice of the stage:
+  Else had not I for all this earth affords
+  Led her thus early on these dangerous boards.
+  If your applause gives sanction to my aim,
+  And this night's effort promise future fame,
+  She shall proceed--but if some bar you find,
+  And that my fondness made my judgment blind,
+  Discern no voice, no feeling she possess,
+  Nor fire that can the passions well express;
+  Then, then forever, shall she quit this scene,
+  Be the plain housewife, not the tragic queen.
+
+Such an appeal, delivered with all the powers of an excellent speaker,
+and enforced by the genuine and unfeigned feelings of a father's heart,
+told home--peals of applause gave assurance that her entrance was
+strewed with flowers, and that at least, her reception, would correspond
+with his fondest wishes.
+
+The accounts that have been given by spectators of the events of that
+night are extremely interesting. Many, no doubt, went there with a
+prepossession, raised by the unfavourable reports of her personal
+appearance; and if lofty stature were indispensibly necessary to a
+heroine, no external appearance could be much less calculated to
+personify a Thalestris than Miss Brunton's--but the mighty mind soon
+made itself to be felt, and every idea of personal dimensions vanished.
+"The audience (says a British author) expected to see a mawkin, but saw
+a Cibber--the applause was proportionate to the surprise: every mouth
+emitted her praise, and she performed several parts in Bath and Bristol,
+a phenomenon in the theatrical hemisphere." Though the trepidation
+inseparable from such an effort diminished her powers at first, the
+sweetness of her voice struck every ear like a charm: the applause that
+followed invigorated her spirits so far that in the reciprocation of a
+speech or two more, her fine clear articulation struck the audience with
+surprise, and when, more assured by their loud approbation, she came to
+the speech:
+
+  "Melanthon, how I loved, the gods who saw
+  Each secret image that my fancy formed,
+  The gods can witness how I loved my Phocion,
+  And yet I went not with him. Could I do it?
+  Could I desert my father?--Could I leave
+  The venerable man, who gave me being,
+  A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay
+  To watch his fate, to visit his affliction,
+  To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear
+  Of filial virtue bid each bondage smile."
+
+she seemed to pour forth her whole heart and soul in the words, and
+emitted such a blaze as filled the house with rapture and astonishment.
+In a word, no actress at the highest acme of popularity ever received
+greater applause. Next day her performance was the topic of every circle
+in Bath. Horatia in the Roman Father, and Palmyra in Mahomet, augmented
+her reputation, and in less than a month the fame of this prodigy, for
+such she appeared to be, had reached every town and city of Great
+Britain and Ireland.
+
+It was natural to imagine that such extraordinary powers would not be
+long suffered to waste themselves upon the limited society of country
+towns. Mr. Harris, as soon as he received intelligence on which he could
+depend, upon the subject of Miss Brunton's talents, resolved to be
+himself an eye-witness of her performance, and set off to Bath with a
+view, if his judgment should concur with that of the public of that
+city, to offer her an engagement at Covent Garden. To see her was to
+decide; he resolved to have her if possible, and lost no time to make
+such overtures at once as could not well be refused. These included an
+engagement at a very handsome salary for her father; her own of course
+was liberal--when one considers how long Mrs. Siddons had appeared upon
+the stage before she got a firm footing on the London boards, one cannot
+but be astonished at the rise of this lady at one leap from the
+threshold to the top of her profession. It is worthy of observation that
+the real children of nature generally burst at once upon the view in
+excellence approaching to perfection; while the mere artists of the
+stage lag behind, labouring for years, before they attain the summit of
+their ambition; when their consummate art and their skill in concealing
+that art (ars celare artem) if they have it, entitles them at last to
+the highest praise. Mrs. Bellamy was one of those children of nature.
+Before she appeared, Quin decidedly gave judgment against her: yet the
+first night she performed he was so struck with her excellence, that,
+impatient to wipe away his injustice by a candid confession he
+emphatically exclaimed, "My child, the spirit is in thee." Garrick it is
+said never surpassed his first night's performance: and the Othello of
+Barry's first appearance, and the Zanga of Mossop's never were equalled
+by any other actors, nor were ever surpassed even by themselves.
+
+Such was the impression made by this phenomenon, even before she left
+the country for London, that the presses teemed with tributes to her
+extraordinary merit, in verse and prose. Learning poured forth it praise
+in deep and erudite criticism--Poetry lavished its sparkling encomium in
+sonnets, songs, odes, and congratulatory addresses, while the light
+retainers to literature filled the magazines and daily prints with
+anecdotes, paragraphs, bon-mots, and epigrams. In a word, there was for
+sometime no reading a newspaper, or opening a periodical publication
+without seeing some production or other addressed to Miss Brunton. From
+the number which appeared the following is deservedly selected, for the
+elegance of its Latin and the beauty of its thoughts:
+
+
+AD BRUNTONAM.
+
+E GRANTA EXITURAM.
+
+    Nostri praesidium et decus thartri;
+  O tu, Melpomene severioris
+  Certe filia! quam decere formae
+  Donavit Cytherea; quam Minerva
+  Duxit per dubiae vias juventae,
+  Per plausus populi periculosus;--
+  Nec lapsam--precor, O nec in futuram
+  Lapsuram. Satis at Cam[oe]na dignis
+  Quae te commemoret modis? Acerbos
+  Seu praeferre Monimiae dolores,
+  Frater cum vetitos (nefas!) ruebat
+  In fratris thalamos, parumque casto
+  Vexabat pede; sive Julietae
+  Luctantes odio paterno amores
+  Maris: te sequuntur Horror,
+  Arrectusque comas Pavor. Vicissim
+  In fletum populus jubetur ire,
+  Et suspiria personant theatrum.
+
+    Mox divinior enitescis, altrix
+  Altoris vigil et parens parentis.
+  At non Graecia sola vindicavit
+  Paternae columen decusque vitae
+  Natam; restat item patri Britanno
+  Et par Euphrasiae puella, quamque
+  Ad scenam pietas tulit paternam.
+
+    O Bruntona, cito exitura virgo,
+  Et visu cito subtrahenda nostro,
+  Breves deliciae, dolorque longus!
+  Gressum siste parumper oro; teque
+  Virtutesque tuas lyra sonandas
+  Tradit Granta suis vicissim almunis.
+
+The following very elegant poem, published as a version of this ode, is
+rather a paraphrase than a translation. What Gibbon said of Pope's Homer
+may with some truth be applied to it: "_It has every merit but that of
+resemblance to the original._" Might not a version equally elegant, but
+adhering more closely to the original, and preserving more of its
+peculiar genius be found in America. We wish some of our readers who
+feel the inspiration of a happy Muse would make the experiment.
+
+    Maid of unboastful charms, whom white-rob'd Truth,
+  Right onward guiding through the maze of youth,
+  Forbade the Circe, PRAISE, to witch thy soul,
+  And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl;
+  Thee, meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair,
+  Clasp'd to her bosom, with a mother's care;
+  And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace,
+  The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face,
+  For never yet did mortal voice impart
+  Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart;
+  Whether to rouse the sympathetic glow,
+  Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of wo;
+  Or happy clothest, with funereal vest,
+  The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast.
+  O'er our chill limbs the thrilling terrors creep,
+  Th' entranc'd passions still their vigils keep;
+  Whilst the deep sighs, responsive to the song,
+  Sound through the silence of the trembling throng.
+  But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face,
+  And spread o'er all thy form a holier grace;
+  When from the daughter's breast the father drew
+  The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew.
+    Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll,
+  With mimic feelings, foreign from the soul;
+  Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear;
+  Methought he said, "Thou art no actress here!
+  A semblance of thyself, the Grecian dame,
+  And _Brunton_ and _Euphrasia_ still the same!"
+  O! soon to seek the city's busier scene,
+  Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene,
+  Till Granta's sons, from all her sacred bow'rs,
+  With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flow'rs,
+  To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow,
+  Enchanting ministress of virtuous wo!
+
+It was on the 17th of October, 1785, that Miss Brunton made her first
+appearance at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Horatia. The
+public had anxiously looked for her, and the house was crowded to
+receive her. The venerable Arthur Murphy wrote a prologue for the
+occasion, in which he displayed his accustomed delicacy and judgment. It
+was as follows, and was well spoken by Mr. Holman:
+
+  The tragic Muse long saw the British stage
+  Melt with her tears, and kindle with her rage,
+  She saw her scenes with varied passions glow,
+  The tyrant's downfall and the lover's wo;
+  'Twas then her Garrick--at that well-known name
+  Remembrance wakes, and gives him all his fame;
+  To him great Nature open'd Shakspeare's store,
+  "Here learn," she said, "here learn the sacred lore;"
+  This fancy realiz'd, the bard shall see,
+  And his best commentator breathe in thee.
+  She spoke: her magic powers the actor tried;
+  Then Hamlet moraliz'd and Richard died;
+  The dagger gleam'd before the murderer's eye,
+  And for old Lear each bosom heav'd sigh;
+  Then Romeo drew the sympathetic tear,
+  With him and Cibber Love lay bleeding here.
+  Enchanting Cibber! from that warbling throat
+  No more pale Sorrow pours the liquid note.
+  Her voice suppress'd, and Garrick's genius fled,
+  Melpomene declined her drooping head;
+  She mourn'd their loss, then fled to western skies,
+  And saw at Bath another genius rise.
+  Old Drury's scene the goddess bade her choose,
+  The actress heard, and spake, "herself a muse."
+  From the same nursery, this night appears
+  Another warbler, yet of tender years;
+  As a young bird, as yet unus'd to fly
+  On wings, expanded, through the azure sky,
+  With doubt and fear its first excursion tries
+  And shivers ev'ry feather with surprise;
+  So comes our chorister--the summer's ray,
+  Around her nest, call'd forth a short essay;
+  Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees
+  This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze.
+  But here, no unfledg'd wing was ever crush'd;
+  Be each rude blast within its cavern hush'd.
+  Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way,
+  Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day:
+  She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice
+  May please each ear and bid the grove rejoice.
+
+It would be superfluous, and indeed only going over the same ground
+already beat at Bath, to describe Miss Brunton's reception on her first
+appearance in London. Suffice it to say that plaudits and even
+exclamations of delight were, if possible, more rapturous and more
+incessant at Covent Garden than at Bath. Of the reputation thus quickly
+acquired, she never, to the day of her death, lost an atom; but
+continued to perform, in different parts of England, with accumulating
+fame, till her marriage deprived the people of England of her talents.
+
+Mr. Robert Merry, a gentleman well known in the literary world, and
+rendered conspicuous by some pretty poetry published under the name of
+_Della Crusca_, had the honour of rendering himself so agreeable to Miss
+Brunton that she suffered him to lead her to the altar. He was of a
+gentleman's family, and received his education under that mass of
+learning, doctor Parr, was a man of brilliant genius, amiable
+disposition, elegant manners, with a fine face and person. Being a _bon
+vivant_ and a little addicted to play, as well as to other fashionable
+and wasteful frivolities of high life, his affairs were in a very
+unpleasant state, but for this there was an abundant remedy in his
+wife's talents; and perhaps (with her aid) a little in his own too.
+Family pride, however, forbid it. He was much swayed by his relatives,
+particularly by two old maiden aunts, who were, or affected to be
+wounded at his marrying an actress. Nothing but his withdrawing his wife
+from the stage could assuage their wrath or heal the wound, and Mrs.
+Merry, in a spirit of obedience to her husband, and of amiable feeling
+for his situation, which will ever do honour to her memory, complied;
+and as soon as her engagement at Covent Garden expired (in 1792) left
+the stage, to the great regret, and a little to the indignant contempt
+for the old ladies, of the whole British nation.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Merry soon after paid a visit to the continent, where they
+lived for a little more than a year, when they returned to England, and
+settled in retired life in the country and there remained till the year
+1796, when they removed to America. Mr. Brunton, the father of Mrs.
+Merry, was, no less than the old ladies alluded to, and on much more
+substantial grounds, averse to her marriage with Mr. Merry, and still
+more to her coming to America. In obedience to a higher duty, however,
+she followed the fortunes of her husband, and with the most poignant
+regret left her native country and her father, to sojourn in a strange
+land. On the 19th of September, 1796, they sailed from the Downs, and on
+the 19th of October following landed at New-York.
+
+Few country theatres in Great Britain have been able to boast of so good
+a company as that which assembled at Philadelphia on the season which
+succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival. The theatre opened on the fifth of
+December, with Romeo and Juliet, and the Waterman. The elegant and
+interesting Morton played Romeo--Mrs. Merry Juliet; all the characters
+had excellent representatives, and Mrs. Merry appeared to the audience a
+being of a superior kind. That winter she played all her best parts, but
+though supported by such a company it often happened that the receipts
+were insufficient to pay the charges of the house, and the season was,
+on the whole, extremely unsuccessful; a circumstance which at first view
+will excite surprise, but at the time might reasonably have been
+expected. This will be understood when the general financial condition
+of the city is called to recollection. Every one who has known the
+country but for a few years back must remember the almost general
+bankruptcy occasioned by the failure of land speculating men of opulence
+and high credit. During that time commerce in all its classes sensibly
+felt the shock, and business languished in all its branches. No wonder
+that the theatre, which can only be fed by the superflux of all other
+departments of society, should droop, neglected and unsupported. The
+prices then too were higher than now--the boxes a dollar and a
+quarter--the pit a dollar. And here we cannot help expressing a wish,
+founded we believe on justice and common sense, that admittance to the
+pit were raised:--first, because it is, at least, equal if not
+preferable to the boxes; and next because it would in some degree tend
+to exclude many who, though fit to sit only in the upper gallery, make
+their way into the pit to the great annoyance of those decent well
+behaved people who go to enjoy and understand the play, and not to
+blackguard and speak aloud.
+
+When the theatre was closed, according to civil regulation, the company,
+went to New-York. At that time Hallam and Hodgkinson had possession of
+both the theatres of that city--the old one in John-street, and the new
+one at the Park. The Philadelphia company, still bleeding from the
+wounds of the unsuccessful season, and urged by necessity for future
+support, applied to Hallam and Hodgkinson to rent them the theatre in
+John-street. Guided by a policy, rational enough and perhaps justifiable
+on principles of self-defence, though certain not very liberal, and in
+the end greatly injurious to themselves, the York proprietors
+peremptorily refused. The circus of Ricketts, the equestrian, in
+Greenwich-street then presented itself, and the Philadelphia company
+opened in full force. In order to oppose them, Hallam and Hodgkinson
+invited Mr. Sollee with his company to John-street. The Philadelphia
+company, however, made a very successful campaign of it. Sollee also had
+his visitors, and the consequence to H. and H. was that when they came
+to open the new house they played to thin or rather empty boxes; the
+town being saturated with theatrical exhibitions, and a little exhausted
+too of the cash disposable for such recreations.
+
+In New-York as well as Philadelphia, and indeed in every place where
+Mrs. M. went, she was no sooner seen than admired; and the impression
+she never failed to make at first sight remained, not only uneffaced but
+more deeply augmented in proportion as she was seen, even to the end of
+her life. She afterwards visited Baltimore and other places, and
+wherever she went, was the polar star to which the attention of all was
+directed.
+
+While she was proceeding in this career of success her felicity met with
+the most cruel interruption by the sudden death of her husband, which
+happened at Baltimore in the latter end of the year 1798. Mr. Merry had
+not laboured under any specific physical complaint from which his death
+could in the smallest degree be apprehended. On the day before christmas
+he was apparently well, had walked out into the garden, and was soon
+after followed by some friends who found him lying senseless on the
+ground. Medical aid was immediately called in--several attempts were
+made to draw blood from him but without the least success; the
+physicians pronounced it an apoplectic case, and from every circumstance
+the conclusion was that his death was instantaneous and without pain.
+Mr. Merry was large and of a plethoric habit; and to that his death may,
+in some sort, and was then entirely ascribed. But circumstances appeared
+after his death which led to a conclusion that concealed sorrow, might
+have had some share in it. From refined motives of tenderness for a
+beloved wife's feelings, and that loftiness of spirit which clings to
+the perfect gentleman, he concealed the state of his affairs in England,
+which had for some time been in a rapid decline, and of the complete
+ruin of which he had a short time before been fully informed. His
+patrimonial estate had been foreclosed and sold under a mortgage, and he
+remained debtor for a considerable sum after the sale. To this effect a
+letter was found after his death. As soon as this was discovered, every
+one who knew his exquisite sensibility, reflected with astonishment upon
+the delicacy which dictated and the fortitude with which he managed his
+concealment, and felt deep and sympathetic sorrow for the anguish he
+must have been privately enduring while he endeavoured to dress his face
+with tranquillity and to converse with his accustomed cheerfulness and
+ease. Smothered grief is one of the most deadly inmates; and it is
+reasonable to believe that a paroxysm of violent emotion in a moment
+when solitude gave an opportunity for giving a loose to reflection,
+operating upon a plethoric habit, occasioned his sudden dissolution.
+
+That Mr. Merry was a gentleman of great private worth we believe the
+evidence of all those to whom familiar intercourse had revealed his
+disposition; that he was learned and accomplished in a very eminent
+degree no one has ever denied; and that he was a man of genius, his
+"Della Crusca," and the many witty and satirical epigrams he wrote for
+the public prints under the signature of "Tom Thorne," abundantly prove.
+But the pen of state vengeance was raised against him, and his poetical
+fame was immolated as an expiation for his political offences. Attached
+to French revolutionary, or, as they were then called, jacobin
+principles, to a degree which even Foxites censured, he was viewed with
+abhorrence by one party, and with no great regard by the other; so that
+when the witty author of the Pursuits of Literature drew his sword, and
+the sarcastic author of the Baviad and Maeviad lifted his axe against him
+there was no one to ward off the blows. There is a fact respecting Mr.
+M. which, though it does not properly belong to this biographical
+sketch, yet as it is curious enough to apologize for its introduction,
+we take the liberty to relate. The celebrated Mrs. Cowley, under the
+name of "Anna Matilda," and Mr. M. under that of "Della Crusca,"
+corresponded with and admired each other, without being known or even
+suspected by one another, or, for some time, by the public. These
+productions formed a new era or rather a new school of poetry, which
+excited such attention and curiosity that every art was resorted to in
+order to discover the authors. It was at length whispered abroad, and
+then what most surprised the world was, that the two persons were
+totally strangers to each other.
+
+Mrs. Merry remained a widow for more than four years: she then, on the
+first of January 1803, married Mr. Wignell, the manager of the
+Philadelphia theatre, who died in seven weeks after their marriage. For
+three years and a half she retained the name of Wignell, when the
+present manager solicited her hand so successfully that she consented,
+and took the name of Warren, on the 15th of August, 1806. By this
+marriage the property and management of the Philadelphia theatre
+devolved upon Mr. Warren; than whom, exclusive of the personal
+attachment that subsisted between them, she could not have pitched upon
+any one person more competent to the care of her property or the
+direction of the theatre; or one more worthy of the sacred trust of
+being a parent and a guardian to her infant daughter. For near two years
+they lived together in a state of ease and felicity which bid fair to
+last for years, when he being obliged to attend his company to their
+customary summer stations, Mrs. Warren, then in a far advanced state of
+pregnancy, desired to go along with him. Aware of the fatigue, the
+inconveniences, and the privations to which she would, in all
+likelihood, be exposed, during her journey southward, and still more in
+her _accouchement_, which must necessarily take place before his return,
+he endeavoured to prevail upon her to stay behind. But "Fate came into
+the list," and she would go. Arrived at Alexandria, he took a large
+commodious house, and put it in a condition sufficiently comfortable;
+Mrs. Warren was in lusty health, and as the time approached all was fair
+and promising. By one of those turns, however, which it pleases
+Providence for his own wise purposes frequently to ordain, to mock our
+best hopes and baffle our most sanguine expectations, this admirable
+woman was, contrary to every antecedent prognostic, visited in her
+travail with epileptic fits, in which she expired, "leaving," (as the
+sublime Burke no less truly than pathetically said on the death of
+doctor Johnson,) "not only nothing to fill her place, but nothing that
+has a tendency to fill it."
+
+Here, we let the curtain drop. Neither her private nor her public
+character can derive additional lustre from any pen.
+
+
+
+
+PORTRAIT OF THE CELEBRATED BETTERTON.
+
+
+Mr. Thomas Betterton, dramatist and actor, was born in Tothill-street,
+Westminster; and after having left school, is said to have been put
+apprentice to a bookseller. It is supposed he made his first appearance
+on the stage about the year 1657, at the opera house, which was then
+under the direction of sir William Davenant. He went over to Paris to
+take a view of the French scenery, and on his return, made such
+improvements, as added greatly to the lustre of the English stage.
+
+The professional merits of this great man were of a kind so perfectly
+unequivocal and unalloyed that there never was heard one dissenting
+voice upon the subject of his superiority to all other actors. He stood
+so far above the highest of his profession that competition being
+hopeless there was no motive for envy.
+
+Of the few who lived to see him and Garrick, the far greater number gave
+him the palm, with the exception of Garrick's excellence in low comedy.
+Indeed he seems to have combined in himself the various powers of the
+three greatest modern actors, of Garrick, except as before excepted, of
+Barry, and of Mossop; add to which, he played Falstaff as well as Quin.
+The present writer got this from old Macklin, who was stored with
+anecdotes of his predecessors.
+
+Of Betterton, Colley Cibber speaks thus, in his apology for his own
+life:
+
+"Betterton was an actor, as Shakspeare was an author, both without
+competitors! formed for the mutual assistance, and illustration of each
+other's genius! how Shakspeare wrote, all men who have a taste for
+nature may read, and know--but with what higher rapture would he still
+be read, could they conceive how Betterton _played_ him! Then might they
+know, the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write!
+pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from a harmonious
+elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! that the
+animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath
+and motion that presents them; or at best can but faintly glimmer
+through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving
+spectators. Could _how_ Betterton spoke be as easily known as _what_ he
+spoke, then might you see the Muse of Shakspeare in her triumph, with
+all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life, and
+charming her beholders. But alas! since all this is so far out of the
+reach of description, how shall I show you Betterton? Should I therefore
+tell you, that all the Othellos, Hamlets, Hotspurs, Mackbeths, and
+Brutuses, whom you may have seen since his time, have fallen far short
+of him; this still would give you no idea of his particular excellence.
+Let us see then what a particular comparison may do! whether that may
+yet draw him nearer to you?
+
+"You have seen a Hamlet perhaps, who, on the first appearance of his
+father's spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining vociferation
+requisite to express rage and fury, and the house has thundered with
+applause; though the misguided actor was all the while (as Shakspeare
+terms it) tearing a passion into rags--I am the more bold to offer you
+this particular instance, because the late Mr. Addison, while I sate by
+him, to see this scene acted, made the same observation, asking me with
+some surprize, if I thought Hamlet should be in so violent a passion
+with the ghost, which though it might have astonished, it had not
+provoked him? for you may observe that in this beautiful speech, the
+passion never rises beyond an almost breathless astonishment, or an
+impatience, limited by filial reverence, to inquire into the suspected
+wrongs that may have raised him from his peaceful tomb! and a desire to
+know what a spirit so seemingly distressed, might wish or enjoin a
+sorrowful son to execute towards his future quiet in the grave! this was
+the light into which Betterton threw this scene; which he opened with a
+pause of mute amazement! then rising slowly, to a solemn, trembling
+voice, he made the ghost equally terrible to the spectator, as to
+himself! and in the descriptive part of the natural emotions which the
+ghastly vision gave him, the boldness of his expostulation was still
+governed by decency, manly, but not braving; his voice never rising into
+that seeming outrage, or wild defiance of what he naturally revered. But
+alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing, and meaning too little,
+to keep the attention more pleasingly awake, by a tempered spirit, than
+by mere vehemence of voice, is of all the master-strokes of an actor the
+most difficult to reach. In this none yet have equalled Betterton. But I
+am unwilling to show his superiority only by recounting the errors of
+those, who now cannot answer to them, let their farther failings
+therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in some measure excuse them!
+For I am not yet sure, that they might not be as much owing to the false
+judgment of the spectator, as the actor. While the million are so apt to
+be transported, when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while
+they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it
+is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted,
+at this easy rate, to excite it. Shall I go a little farther? and allow
+that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? I mean
+that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of
+pronunciation, which to my ear is insupportable; for of all faults that
+so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the
+fewest admirers. That this is an error of ancient standing seems evident
+by what Hamlet says, in his instructions to the players, _viz._
+
+  Be not too tame, neither, &c.
+
+The actor, doubtless, is as strongly tied down to the rules of Horace as
+the writer:
+
+    Si vis me flere, dolendum est
+  Primum ipsi tibi----
+
+He that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a
+sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of Betterton; and it has
+often amazed me to see those who soon came after him, throw out in some
+parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit, which Betterton
+himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining
+passages of the same character, have heavily dragged the sentiment along
+like a dead weight; with a long-toned voice, and absent eye, as if they
+had fairly forgot what they were about. If you have never made this
+observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it.
+
+"A farther excellence in Betterton, was, that he could vary his spirit
+to the different characters he acted. Those wild impatient starts, that
+fierce and flashing fire, which he threw into Hotspur, never came from
+the unruffled temper of his _Brutus_ (for I have more than once, seen a
+_Brutus_ as warm as Hotspur) when the Betterton Brutus was provoked, in
+his dispute with Cassius, his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady
+look alone supplyed that terror, which he disdained an intemperance in
+his voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like
+an unheeding rock, he repelled upon himself the foam of Cassius. Perhaps
+the very works of Shakspeare will better let you into my meaning:
+
+  Must I give way, and room, to your rash choler?
+  Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
+
+And a little after,
+
+  There is no terror, Cassius, in your looks! &c.
+
+Not but in some part of this scene, where he reproaches _Cassius_, his
+temper is not under this suppression, but opens into that warmth which
+becomes a man of virtue; yet this is that _hasty spark_ of anger, which
+Brutus himself endeavours to excuse.
+
+"But with whatever strength of nature we see the poet show, at once, the
+philosopher and the hero, yet the image of the actor's excellence will
+be still imperfect to you, unless language could put colours in our
+words to paint the voice with.
+
+"_Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum_, is enjoining an
+impossibility. The most that a _Vandyke_ can arrive at, is to make his
+portraits of great persons seem to _think_; a Shakspeare goes farther
+yet, and tells you _what_ his pictures thought; a Betterton steps beyond
+them both, and calls them from the grave, to breathe, and be themselves
+again, in feature, speech, and motion. When the skilful actor shows you
+all these powers at once united, and gratifies at once your eye, your
+ear, your understanding. To conceive the pleasure rising from such
+harmony, you must have been present at it! 'tis not to be told you!
+
+"There cannot be a stronger proof of the charms of harmonious elocution,
+than the many, even unnatural scenes and flights of the false sublime it
+has lifted into applause. In what raptures have I seen an audience, at
+the furious fustian and turgid rants in _Nat. Lee's Alexander the
+Great_! for though I can allow this play a few great beauties, yet it is
+not without its extravagant blemishes. Every play of the same author has
+more or less of them. Let me give you a sample from this. Alexander, in
+a full crowd of courtiers, without being occasionally called or provoked
+to it, falls into this rhapsody of vainglory:
+
+  Can none remember? Yes, I know all must!
+
+And therefore they shall know it again.
+
+  When Glory, like a dazzling eagle, stood
+  Perched on my beaver, in the Granic flood,
+  When Fortune's self, my standard trembling bore,
+  And the pale Fates stood frighted on the shore,
+  When the immortals on the billows rode,
+  And I myself appeared the leading god.
+
+When these flowing numbers come from the mouth of a Betterton, the
+multitude no more desired sense to them, than our musical connoisseurs
+think it essential in the celebrated airs of an Italian opera. Does not
+this prove, that there is very near as much enchantment in the
+well-governed voice of an actor, as in the sweet pipe of a eunuch? If I
+tell you, there was no one tragedy, for many years, more in favour with
+the town than Alexander, to what must we impute this its command of
+public admiration? not to its intrinsic merit, surely, if it swarms with
+passages like this I have shown you! If this passage has merit, let us
+see what figure it would make upon canvas, what sort of picture would
+rise from it. If Le Brun, who was famous for painting the battles of
+this hero, had seen this lofty description, what one image could he have
+possibly taken from it? In what colours would he have shown us _Glory
+perched upon a beaver_? how would he have drawn _Fortune trembling_? or,
+indeed, what use could he have made of _pale Fates_, or _immortals_
+riding upon _billows_, with this blustering _god_ of his own making at
+the _head_ of them! where, then, must have lain the charm, that once
+made the public so partial to this tragedy? why plainly, in the grace
+and harmony of the actor's utterance. For the actor himself is not
+accountable for the false poetry of his author; that, the hearer is to
+judge of; if it passes upon him, the actor can have no quarrel to it;
+who, if the periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and
+high-sounding, even in a false passion, must throw out the same fire and
+grace, as may be required in one justly rising from nature; where those
+his excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the
+taste of his hearer. And I am of opinion, that to the extraordinary
+success of this very play, we may impute the corruption of so many
+actors, and tragic writers, as were immediately mislead by it. The
+unskilful actor, who imagined all the merit of delivering those blazing
+rants, lay only in the strength, and strained exertion of the voice,
+began to tear his lungs, upon every false, or slight occasion, to arrive
+at the same applause. And it is hence I date our having seen the same
+reason prevalent, for above fifty years. Thus equally misguided too,
+many a barren-brained author has streamed into a frothy flowing style,
+pompously rolling into sounding periods, signifying--roundly nothing; of
+which number, in some of my former labours, I am something more than
+suspicious, that I may myself have made one, but to keep a little closer
+to Betterton.
+
+"When this favourite play I am speaking of, from its being too
+frequently acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the town,
+upon the sudden death of Monfort, who had played Alexander with success,
+for several years, the part was given to Betterton, which, under this
+great disadvantage of the satiety it had given, he immediately revived
+with so new a lustre, that for three days together it filled the house;
+and had his then declining strength been equal to the fatigue the action
+gave him, it probably might have doubled its success; an uncommon
+instance of the power and intrinsic merit of an actor. This I mention
+not only to prove what irresistible pleasure may arise from a judicious
+elocution, with scarce sense to assist it; but to show you too, that
+though Betterton never wanted fire, and force, when his character
+demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never prostituted his
+power to the low ambition of a false applause. And further, that when,
+from a too advanced age, he resigned that toilsome part of Alexander,
+the play, for many years after never was able to impose upon the public;
+and I look upon his so particularly supporting the false fire and
+extravagancies of that character, to be a more surprizing proof of his
+skill, than his being eminent in those of Shakspeare; because there,
+truth and nature coming to his assistance he had not the same
+difficulties to combat, and consequently, we must be less amazed at his
+success, where we are more able to account for it.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+
+
+
+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._
+
+
+PHILADELPHIA THEATRE.
+
+_Dec. 6th._--Douglas, _with the_ Shipwreck.      Young Norval }
+     _8th._--Mountaineers--Raising the Wind.     Octavian     }
+     _9th._--Lover's Vows--Rosina.               Frederick    }
+    _11th._--Mahomet--Spoiled Child.             Zaphna       } _BY_
+    _13th._--Hamlet--Weathercock.                Hamlet       }
+    _15th._--Pizarro--The Ghost.                 Rolla        } _MASTER_
+    _16th._--Douglas--Youth, Love and Folly.     Young Norval }
+    _18th._--Tancred and Sigismunda--Farmer.     Tancred      } _PAYNE._
+    _20th._--Barbarossa--Too Many Cooks.         Selim        }
+     _22d._--Romeo and Juliet--Love laughs at                 }
+             Locksmiths, for his own benefit.    Romeo        }
+
+All those plays are well known. From the peculiar circumstances
+attending their performance they call for a share of particular
+attention, which would otherwise be superfluous. Where there is
+something new, and much to be admired, it would be inexcusable to be
+niggard of our labour, even were the labour painful, which in this
+instance it is not. The performance of Master Payne pleased us so much
+that we have often since derived great enjoyment from the recollection
+of it; and to retrace upon paper the opinions with which it impressed
+us, we now sit down with feelings very different from those, which, at
+one time, we expected to accompany the task. Without the least
+hesitation we confess, that when we were assured it would become our
+duty to examine that young gentleman's pretensions, and compare his
+sterling value with the general estimate of it, as reported from other
+parts of the union, we felt greatly perplexed. On one hand strict
+critical justice with the pledge which is given in our motto,
+imperiously forbidding us to applaud him who does not deserve it, stared
+us in the face with a peremptory inhibition from sacrificing truth to
+ceremony, or prostrating our judgment before the feet of public
+prejudice: while, on the other we were aware that nothing is so
+obstinate as error--that fashionable idolatry is of all things the most
+incorrigible by argument, and the least susceptible of conviction--that
+while the dog-star of favouritism is vertical over a people, there is
+no reasoning with them to effect; and that all the efforts of common
+sense are but given to the wind, if employed to undeceive them, till the
+brain fever has spent itself, and the public mind has settled down to a
+state of rest. We had heard Master Payne's performances spoken of in a
+style which quite overset our faith. Not one with whom we conversed
+about him spoke within the bounds of reason: few indeed seemed to
+understand the subject, or, if they did, to view it with the sober eye
+of plain common rationality. The opinions of some carried their own
+condemnation in their obvious extravagance; and hyperbolical admiration
+fairly ran itself out of breath in speaking of the wonders of this
+cisatlantic young Roscius.
+
+While we knew that half of what was said was utterly impossible, we
+thought it due to candor to believe that such a general opinion could
+not exist without some little foundation; that in all likelihood the boy
+had merit, considerable for his years and means, to which his puerility
+might have given a peculiar recommendation, and that when he came to be
+unloaded by time and public reflection of that injurious burthen of
+idolatrous praise, which to our thinking had all the bad effects of
+calumny, we should be able to find at bottom something that could be
+applauded without impairing our veracity, deceiving the public, or
+joining the multitude in burning the vile incense of flattery under the
+boy's nose, and hiding him from the world and from himself in a cloud of
+pernicious adulation.
+
+But how to encounter this reigning humour was the question: to render
+his reasoning efficacious, the critic must take care not to make it
+unpalatable. And here the general taste seemed to be in direct
+opposition to our reason and experience; for we had not yet (even in the
+case of young Betty, with the aggregate authority of England, Ireland,
+and Scotland in his favour) been free from scepticism: the Roscio-mania
+contagion had not yet infected us quite so much: in a word, we had no
+faith in MIRACLES, nor could we, in either the one case or the other,
+screw up our credulity to any sort of unison with the pitch of the
+multitude. We shall not readily forget the mixed sensations of concern
+and risibility with which, day after day, from the first annunciation of
+Master Payne's expected appearance at Philadelphia, we were obliged to
+listen to the misjudging applause of his panegyrists. There is a
+narrowness of heart, and a nudity of mind too common in our nature,
+under the impulse of which few people can bring themselves to do homage
+to one person without magnifying their incense by the depreciation of
+some other. According to these a favourite has not his proper station,
+till all others are put below him; as if there was no merit positive,
+but all was good but by comparison. In this temper there certainly is at
+least as much malice to one as kindness to the other: but an honourable
+and beneficent wisdom gives other laws for human direction, and dictates
+that in the house of merit there are not only many stories, but many
+apartments in each story: and that every man may be fairly adjudicated
+all the praise he deserves without thrusting others down into the ground
+floor to make room for him. Yet not one in twenty could we find to
+praise Master Payne, without doing it at the expense of others. "He is
+superior to Cooper," said one; "he speaks better than Fennell," said a
+second: these sagacious observations too, are rarely accompanied by a
+modest qualification, such as "I think," or "it is my opinion"--but
+nailed down with a peremptory IS. This is the mere naked offspring of a
+muddy or unfinished mind, which, for want of discrimination to point
+out the particular beauties it affects to admire, accomplishes its will
+by a sweeping wholesale term of comparison, more injurious to him they
+praise than to him they slight. Nay, so far has this been carried, that
+some who never were out of the limits of this union have, by a kind of
+telescopical discernment, viewed Cooke and Kemble in comparison with
+their new favourite, and found them quite deficient. We cannot readily
+forget one circumstance: a person said to another in our hearing at the
+playhouse, "You have been in England, sir, don't you think Master Payne
+superior to young Betty?" "I don't know, sir, having never seen Master
+Betty," answered the man; "I think he is very much superior," replied
+the former--"You have seen Master Betty then, sir," said the latter;
+"No, I never did," returned he that asked the first question, "but I am
+sure of it--I have heard a person that was in England say so!!"--This
+was the pure effusion of a mind subdued to prostration by wonder. In
+England this was carried to such lengths, that the panegyrists of young
+Betty seemed to vie with each other in fanatical admiration of that
+truly extraordinary boy. One, in a public print, went so far as to
+assert, that Mr. Fox (who, as well as Mr. Pitt, was at young Betty's
+benefit when he played Hamlet) declared the performance was little, if
+at all, inferior to that of his deceased friend Garrick. With the very
+same breath in which we read the paragraph we declared it to be a
+falsehood. Mr. Fox had too much judgment to institute the
+comparison--Mr. Fox had too much benignity to utter such a malicious
+libel upon that noble boy.
+
+These considerations naturally augmented our anxiety, and we did most
+heartily wish, if it were possible, to be relieved from the task of
+giving an opinion of Master Payne. For in addition to his youthfulness,
+we knew that he wanted many advantages which young Betty possessed. The
+infant Roscius of England, had, from his very infancy, been in a state
+of the best discipline; being from the time he was five years of age,
+daily exercised in recitation of poetry, by his mother, who shone in
+private theatricals; and having been afterwards prepared for the stage,
+and hourly tutored by Mr. Hough, an excellent preceptor. By his father
+too, who is one of the best fencers in Europe, he was improved in
+gracefulness of attitude--and nature had uncommonly endowed him for the
+reception of those instructions. Of such means of improvement Master
+Payne was wholly destitute, for there was not a man that we could hear
+of in America who was at once capable and willing to instruct him.
+Self-dependent and self-taught as he must be, we could see no feasible
+means by which he could evolve his powers, be they what they might, to
+adequate effect for the stage. We deemed it scarcely possible that he
+could have got rid of the innumerable provincialisms which must cling to
+his youth: and we laid our account at the best with meeting a fine
+forward boy who would speak, perhaps not very well either, by rote; and
+taking the most prominent favourite actor of his day, as a model, be a
+mere childish imitator. We considered that when young people do any
+thing with an excellence disproportioned to their years, they are viewed
+through a magnifying medium; and that being once seen to approach to the
+perfection of eminent adults, they are, by a transition sufficiently
+easy to a wondering mind, readily concluded to excel them. Thus Betty
+was said to surpass Kemble and Cooke; and thus young Payne was roundly
+asserted to surpass Cooper and Fennell. Such were the feelings and
+opinions with which we met Master Payne on his first appearance, for
+which the tragedy of Douglas was judiciously selected; and we own that
+the first impression he made upon our minds was favourable to his
+talents in this way: He appeared to be just of that age which we should
+think least advantageous to him; too young to enforce approbation by
+robust manly exertion of talents; too far advanced to win over the
+judgment by tenderness; or by a manifest disproportion between his age
+and his efforts, to excite that astonishment which, however shortlived,
+is, while it lasts, despotic over the understanding. Labouring,
+therefore, under most of the disadvantages without any of the
+advantages of puerility, candor and common sense pronounced at once that
+much less of the estimation in which he was held, was to be ascribed to
+his boyishness, and of course much more to his talents than we had been
+led to imagine. If, therefore, he got through the character handsomely,
+and still carried the usual applause along with him, we directly
+conceived that there would be just ground for thinking it not entirely
+the result of prejudice, nor by any means undeserved.
+
+At his entrance he seemed a little intimidated, as if he were dubious of
+his reception; nor could he for some minutes devest himself of that
+feeling, though he was received with the most flattering welcome;--this
+transient perturbation gave a very pleasing effect to his first words;
+and when he said, "My name is Norval," he uttered it with a pause which
+seemed to be the effect of the modest diffidence natural to such a
+character upon being introduced into a higher presence than he had ever
+before approached. Had this been the effect of art it would have been
+fine--perhaps it was--but we thought it was accidental.
+
+The utter impossibility of a beardless boy of sixteen or seventeen
+years, at all assimilating to the character of a warrior and mighty
+slayer of men, is of itself an insuperable obstacle to the complete
+_personification_ of certain characters by a young gentleman of the age
+and stature of Master Payne. He might speak them with strict
+propriety--he might act them with feeling and spirit; but had he the
+general genius of Garrick--the energies of Mossop--the beauty of Barry,
+the elocution of Sheridan, and the art of Kemble, he could not with the
+feminine face and voice, and the unfinished person inseparable from such
+tender years, _personate_ them: nor so long as he is seen or heard can
+the perception of his nonage be excluded, or he be thought to represent
+that character, to the formation of which, not gristle, nor fair, round
+soft lineaments, but huge bone and muscle, well-knit joints, knotty
+limbs, and the hard face of Mars are necessary. If we find, as we do in
+many great works of criticism, objections made to the performance of
+several characters by actors of high renown merely for their deficiency
+in personal appearance--if the externals of Mr. Garrick are stated by
+his warmest panegyrists as unfitting him for characters of dignity or
+heroism, even to his exclusion from Faulconbridge, Hotspur, &c. and if
+we find that the greatest admirers of Barry considered the harmony and
+softness of his features, as reducing his Macbeth, Pierre, &c. to poor
+lukewarm efforts, how can it be expected that a boy, just started from
+childhood, should present a true picture of a warrior or a philosopher?
+We premise this for the purpose of having it understood that what we are
+to say of Master Payne is to be subject to these deductions, and that in
+the praise which it is but just to bestow upon him, we exclude all idea
+of external resemblance to the characters. Of the mental powers, the
+informing spirit, the genius, the feeling which he now discloses, and
+the rich promise they afford of future greatness--of these it is, we
+profess to speak: further we cannot go without insincerity, untruth, and
+manifest absurdity.
+
+As might have been expected from Master Payne's limited means of stage
+instruction, he several times discovered want of judgment. In the speech
+in which Norval tells his story, he trespassed on propriety in his
+efforts to throw an air of martial ardor into his expressions; by
+suddenly changing the key and raising the tone of his voice, and
+speaking with increased rapidity the words that more immediately related
+to fighting, erecting them into a kind of _alto relievo_ above the level
+of the rest; particularly in "I had heard of battles," &c. "We fought
+and conquered," &c. all which is a narrative that should be delivered
+with humility, and a strict avoidance of any thing like vainglory, or
+egotism, studiously softening down, with modest air, those details of
+his own prowess which the author has _necessarily_ given to the
+character.
+
+Had Master Payne had a Hough to instruct him, or a Cooke for his model,
+he would have escaped the error into which he fell in that part of the
+fourth act in which Norval describes the hermit who instructed him: he
+would have known that acting what he narrates is highly improper--indeed
+absurd; as it is acting in the first person, and speaking in the third
+at one and the same time. While he repeated the words
+
+  ----Cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts,
+  Described the motions, and explain'd the use
+  Of the deep column, and the lengthened line,
+  The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm,
+
+Master Payne cut those figures, and described the square and the
+crescent with his hands--a great error! A better lesson cannot be
+offered to a young actor on this subject than may be found in the novel
+of Peregrine Pickle, in which doctor Smollet ridicules Quin the player
+for acting narrative in Zanga.
+
+Master Payne would find it his interest to avoid as much as may be, long
+declamatory speeches, till his organs are enlarged and confirmed. But in
+those parts in which Douglas discloses his lofty spirit, and no less in
+all the pathetic parts, he far exceeded expectation, and deserved all
+the applause he received.
+
+  Oh, tell me who and where's my mother!
+  Oppressed by a base world, perhaps she bends
+  Beneath the weight of other ills than grief,
+  And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid
+  Her son should give----
+  Oh, tell me her condition.
+
+There was, in his delivering these lines, an expression of tenderness
+which appealed forcibly to the heart; and was rendered still more
+striking by the abrupt transition to his sword,
+
+  Can the sword----
+  Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?
+
+which he executed with a felicity that nothing but consummate genius
+could accomplish. Again he blazed out with _the true spirit_ in the
+following lines:
+
+  The blood of Douglas will protect itself.
+  Then let yon false Glenalvon beware of me.
+
+That part, however, in which he disclosed not only exquisite feeling but
+a soundness of judgment that would do honour to an experienced actor,
+was where Glenalvon taunts him, for the purpose of rousing his spirit to
+resentment. In that speech particularly which begins,
+
+  Sir, I have been accustomed all my days
+  To hear and speak the plain and simple truth.
+
+The suppression of his indignation in this and the succeeding
+passages--the climax of passion marked in his face, his tone and his
+action, when he says to himself
+
+  If this were told!----
+
+the gradation thence to
+
+  Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
+
+till at last he flames into ungovernable rage in
+
+  Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,
+  And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
+  I'd tell thee--what thou art--I know thee well.
+
+was altogether a string of beauties such as it rarely falls to the lot
+of the critic to commemorate. Had age and personal hardihood been added,
+it would have defied the cavils of the most churlish criticism, and
+deprived even enmity of all pretence to censure.
+
+The next striking beauty he disclosed was in his reply to Randolph, when
+the latter offers his arbitration between him and Glenalvon.
+
+  Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
+  My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
+
+The cold peremptory dignity he threw into these words was beautifully
+conceived, and executed in a masterly manner: nor was he less successful
+in the transition to an expression of poignant but smothered sensibility
+in the next line:
+
+  I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak
+  Th' opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
+
+His delivery of this and all the other lines of the speech that followed
+it, deserved the thunders of applause with which it was greeted--it was,
+indeed, admirable.
+
+In impassioned feeling lies Master Payne's strength. Hence his last
+scene was deeply affecting. Though we could well have spared that
+KEMBLEIAN dying trope, his rising up and falling again. It is because we
+seriously respect Master Payne's talents that we make this remark:
+clap-traps and stage trick of every kind cannot be too studiously
+avoided by persons of real parts.
+
+It would be injustice to omit one passage--
+
+  Just as my arm had mastered Randolph's sword
+  The villain came behind me----BUT I SLEW HIM.
+
+In the break, the pause, and the last four words he was inimitably fine.
+
+In Master Payne's performance of this character we perceived many
+faults, which call for his own correction. They are, we think, such as
+he has it in his power to get rid of. As they are general and pervade
+all his performances, we reserve our observations upon them till we
+close the course of criticism we are to bestow upon him, when we mean to
+sum up our opinion of his general talents. Meantime we beg leave to
+remind him that Mr. Garrick himself, after he had been near forty years
+upon the stage, often shut himself up for days together restudying and
+rehearsing parts he had acted with applause a hundred times before. _Sat
+sapienti._
+
+Nature has bestowed upon this young gentleman a countenance of no common
+order. Its expression has not yet unfolded itself; but we entertain no
+doubt that when manhood and diligent professional exercise shall have
+brought the muscles of his face into full relief, and strengthened its
+lines, it will be powerfully capable of all the inflexions necessary for
+a general player. At present the character of his physiognomy is
+perfectly discernible only upon a near view. When he advances towards
+the front of the stage, the lines may be perceived from that part of the
+pit and boxes which are near the orchestra; even then the shades are so
+very much softened by youth, and the parts so rounded, and so utterly
+free from acute angles, that they can, as yet, but faintly express
+strong, turbulent emotions, or display the furious passions. In a boy of
+his age, this, so far from being a defect, is a beauty, the reverse of
+which would be unnatural; and if it were a defect, every day that passes
+over his head would remedy it. What is now wanting in muscular
+expression, is in a great measure supplied by his eye, which glows with
+animation, and intelligence, and at times SPEAKS the language of a soul
+really impassioned. Upon a close view, when apart from the factitious
+aids and incumbrances of stage-lights, costume, and paint, he must be a
+shallow-sighted physiognomist who would not at the first glance be
+struck by Master Payne's countenance. A more extraordinary mixture of
+softness and intelligence never were associated in a human face. The
+forehead is particularly fine; Lavater would say that genius and energy
+were enthroned there; and over the whole, though yet quite boyish, there
+is a strong expression of what is called manliness; by which is to be
+understood, not present, but the indications of future manliness. How
+strongly and distinctly this is characterised in the boy's face, may be
+collected from an anecdote which, exclusive of its application to this
+subject, we think well worth relating on account of the other party
+concerned in it.
+
+A day or two before Master Payne left Philadelphia he and a friend of
+his walking in a remote part of the city, were encountered by a strange
+old woman, who requested alms with an earnestness which exacted
+attention. The gentleman who was in company with our youth, and from
+whom we deliver the story, being an Irishman, instantly recognizing in
+the petitioner, an unhappy countrywoman, stopped, surveyed her with more
+than cursory regard, and put his hand into his pocket in order to give
+her money. As there was in her aspect that which bespoke something that
+had once been better accommodated, and had claims above a common
+mendicant, he was searching in his pocket for a suitable piece of
+silver, when the generous boy outstripping him, put unostentatiously,
+into the old lady's hand some pieces of silver. She viewed them--drew
+back--gazed upon him for some seconds with a fixed look of wonder,
+delight and affection, then lifting up her eyes to heaven, in a tone of
+voice, and with a solemnity which no words can express, exclaimed, "May
+the great God of heaven shower down his blessings on YOUR INFANT YEARS,
+AND MANLY FACE!" Quickness of conception beyond all other people is now
+allowed, even by the English, to be characteristic of the people of
+Ireland, once considered by those of the sister kingdom as the Baeotians
+of Britain; and we are disposed to concur with the Irish gentleman, who,
+in his exultation and honest prejudice said, "that the woman might be
+known to be Irish from her warm gratitude, her quick discernment, and
+her elegant extemporaneous compliment." In fact, if Edmund Burke
+himself, who exceeded all mankind in the quickness and elegance of
+complimentary replies, had been considering the matter a whole hour, he
+could not have uttered anything to surpass it.
+
+Of Master Payne's person we cannot speak (nor do we hope) so favourably
+as of his face. And we much fear that he will not undergo the pain of
+mending it by abstinence from indulgence. Early hours, active or even
+hard exercise, particularly of the gymnastic kind, and diligent
+unremitting study are as indispensable to his fame, if he means to be a
+player, as food or drink are to his support. In general his action is
+elegant--his attitudes bold and striking; but of the former he sometimes
+uses too much, and in his appropriation of the latter he is not always
+sufficiently discriminating. This was particularly observable in his
+performance of Frederick in Lover's Vows--a character in which we shall
+have occasion to speak of him, and with great praise in a future number.
+His walk too, which in his own unaffected natural gait is not
+exceptionable, he frequently spoils by a kind of pushing step, at open
+war with dignity of deportment. It would be well for this young
+gentleman if he had never seen Mr. Cooper. Perhaps he will be startled
+at this; and flatters himself that he never imitates that gentleman. We
+can readily conceive him to think so even at the moment he is doing it.
+To imitate another, it is not necessary to intend to do so. Every day of
+their lives men imitate without the intervention of the will. The
+manners of an admired, or much-observed individual, insensibly root
+themselves in a young person's habits--he draws them into his system, as
+he does the atmosphere which surrounds him. We doubt very much whether
+Mr. Cooper himself would not be surprised if he knew how much he
+imitates Kemble. Though seemingly a paradox, we firmly rely upon it--Mr.
+Cooper _may_ be aiming at Cooke, when he is by old habitual taint really
+hitting Kemble.[1] On this subject of imitation much is to be said.
+Kemble rose when every bright luminary of the stage had set. Being the
+best of his day, in the metropolis, he has become the standard of acting
+to the young and inexperienced; more from pride than want of judgment he
+goes wrong; his system of acting is radically vitious; but as it makes
+labour pass as a substitute for genius, by transferring expression from
+its natural organs to the limbs, and making attitude and action the
+chief representatives of the passions and the feelings, it not only
+fascinates because it catches the eye, but is adopted because extremely
+convenient to the vast majority of young adventurers on the stage, who,
+possessing neither the feelings fit for the profession, nor the organs,
+nor the genius to express them if they had, are glad to find a
+substitute for both. Hence the system of Mr. Kemble has spread like a
+plague--infected the growing race of actors, mixed itself with the very
+life-blood of the art, and extended its contagion through every new
+branch, even to the very last year's bud. Thus Mr. Kemble is imitated by
+those who never saw him. Let us tell Master Payne that it is the very
+worst school he could go to, this of the statuary. It is as much
+inferior to the old one--to that of Garrick, Barry, Mossop, and nature,
+as the block of marble from which the Farnesian Hercules was hewed, is
+to the god himself. Of its superiority we need urge no farther proof
+than that of Mr. Cooke, who, though assuredly inferior to several of the
+old stock, and groaning under unexampled intemperance, has in spite of
+every impediment which artful jealousy and envy of his talents could
+raise against him, risen so high in public estimation, that even when
+just reeking from offences which would not have been endured in Garrick
+or Barry, his return is hailed with shouts, as if it were a national
+triumph. And why?--because he is of the old school, and scorns the
+cajolery of statue-attitude and stage-trick.
+
+  [Footnote 1: Had Mr. Cooper entered on the profession in the days of
+  Garrick, we are persuaded he would, with the advantage of that great
+  man as a model, and the scientific Macklin as an instructor, have been
+  one of the first actors that ever existed.]
+
+We speak thus freely to Master Payne because we think he has talents
+worth the interposition of criticism, and if we speak at all, must speak
+the whole truth. The praise we give him might well be distrusted, if
+from any false delicacy we slurred over his defects and errors. The most
+dangerous rock in his way will be adulation. Sincerely we wish him to be
+assured that those who mix their applause with a proper alloy of censure
+are his best friends. Indiscriminate flatterers are no better than the
+snake which besmears its prey with slime, only to gorge it the more
+easily.
+
+On reviewing what we have written, we find no observation on Master
+Payne's voice, in which nature has been very bountiful to him. We heard
+him a few times, with no little pain strain it out of its compass. He
+need not do so; since, judiciously managed, it is equal to all the
+purposes of his profession. Those are dangerous experiments, by which
+he may spoil a voice naturally clear, melodious, and of tolerable
+compass. His pronunciation is at times hurtful to a very nice ear. He is
+not to imagine that he has spoken as he ought when he has uttered words
+as they are pronounced in general conversation. There are some, and high
+ones too, who will say "good boy" when they mean "goodbye;" and it would
+not be at all impossible to hear a very fine lady say that she was daown
+in taown, to buy a gaown. We do not accuse Master Payne of this; but at
+times a little of the _a_ cheats the _o_ of its good old round rights;
+so distantly however, as not to be noticed except by a very accurate
+ear--but he ought not to let _any ear_ discover it.
+
+To the correct orthoepist, several persons on the stage give offence in
+the pronunciation of the pronoun possessive MY--speaking it in all cases
+with the full open Y, as it would rhyme to _fly_, which should only be
+when it is put in contradistinction to _thy_ or _his_, or any other
+pronoun possessive: in all other cases it should be sounded like _me_.
+This is a pure Americanism, not practised in any other place where the
+English language is spoken, and, so far as it goes, deprives the word of
+a quality of nice distinctness.
+
+It gives us great pleasure to communicate to our readers the
+intelligence that Master Payne's success at Richmond, even surpassed
+that which he had met before. From a letter submitted to our perusal we
+have, with permission, made the following extract: "Wednesday night
+Payne arrived; Thursday was the first day of his performance; the other
+nights, being Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and
+Saturday, when the house closed for the season; and on Sunday he
+departed in the mail stage. This flying visit (of ten days only)
+produced him upwards of SEVENTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was our intention to confine our remarks on this occasion entirely to
+Master Payne. It seemed to us that the interest taken by the public in
+this native plant, the novelty of his appearance, and, indeed, his own
+merits, laid claim to a very particular discussion of his performances:
+but as we read over the play for that purpose, Mr. M'Kenzie's _Old
+Norval_ forced itself so imperiously upon our remembrance, that we could
+not drop the subject without doing justice to that gentleman's
+performance and our own feelings. It was a specimen of acting and
+speaking we little expected to meet with: masterly, chaste, and
+exquisitely affecting; no less gratifying to the critical ear than to
+the feeling heart. We particularly admired his attestation to heaven of
+his innocence:
+
+                          As I hope
+  For mercy before the judgment seat of heaven
+  The tender lamb that never nipt the grass
+  Is not more innocent than I of murder.
+
+And his pathetic supplication for mercy:
+
+  Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life,
+  Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail,
+  And by your children's welfare spare my age!
+  Let not the iron tear my aged joints,
+  And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain.
+
+The first of these he poured forth with an expression of simple
+sincerity, and the second with a gentle earnestness, so humble, so
+passionately moving, that none but the most hardened hearts could resist
+it. Even the gallery felt its force and made the house resound with its
+rude applause--'twas well; and we may say with Pierre,
+
+  We could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased us.
+
+As in the two former passages Mr. M'Kenzie presented a specimen of
+exquisitely pathetic expression, so he evinced his skill and powers of
+speaking in that speech which may be called the pride of the
+play--perhaps of all Scottish poetry too, in which he relates the
+finding of the child:
+
+  One stormy night, as I remember well,
+  The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof;
+  Red came the river down, and loud and oft
+  The angry spirit of the water shriek'd, &c.
+
+Lord Randolph is a character of which we doubt whether Cooke himself
+could make any thing. Mr. Warren did all that is usually done for him.
+
+Partial as we are to Mr. Wood's acting generally, we did not perceive in
+his performance of Glenalvon any thing to please us very much, or
+augment his reputation.
+
+In Lady Randolph, Mrs. Barrett would deserve much commendation, if she
+could get rid of a few faults in her speaking. Her feelings and personal
+appearance are finely adapted to the character.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A correspondent at Baltimore, of whose judgment we think highly, has
+sent us the following communication, and expressed a wish that we should
+publish it--at the same time acknowledging that it had been printed in
+some periodical paper. As we wish to oblige our correspondent, and there
+is no opinion in it which, according to our present idea of the company
+violently militates against our own, we give it a place.
+
+
+While so interesting a scene is now acting upon the great theatre of the
+world, and as the chief performer has recently closed one of the acts
+with a very important incident, it may, by many be considered as a
+relaxation, to employ a few minutes in taking a concise view of our own
+little theatre; the leader of which has also so lately closed his
+campaign in Baltimore.
+
+I am the more desirous of offering a few remarks upon this subject, from
+having occasionally heard observations indicating some disapprobation
+relative to our theatrical arrangements. Such impressions, we flatter
+ourselves, a little more information upon the subject, and a candid
+reconsideration will do away. From a knowledge of the state of the
+theatres in other parts of the continent, we feel ourselves perfectly
+safe in declaring, that ours is most unquestionably entitled to the
+first place, whether we have reference to the performers composing the
+company, the scenery, dresses, decorations or music.
+
+In tragedy and genteel comedy, Mr. Wood must certainly be considered
+preeminent, with the exception of Mr. Cooper only, who though perhaps[2]
+excelling him in some tragical characters, is considered by many good
+judges, as by no means his superior in many appertaining to genteel
+comedy.
+
+  [Footnote 2: Perhaps!!! Mr. Wood we dare say has too much good sense
+  to relish this _perhaps_, it rather savours of irony.]
+
+Mrs. Wood ranks high in the same line; the correct style in which she
+gives the sense of her author, the refinement of her taste and her clear
+and distinct utterance, must always ensure to her the approbation of an
+enlightened audience; we feel some reluctance in adding that her
+uniformity of declamation, and something in her tones approaching to
+monotony, retard her progress to that excellence to which the
+qualifications abovementioned must evidently lead her.
+
+Mr. Warren, viewed only as a performer, will be found fairly deserving
+of our praise. In the arduous character of the "inimitable and
+unimitated Falstaff" he has no rival on this side the Atlantic. In the
+other class of characters, to which he modestly confines himself, he is
+always correct and respectable.
+
+In Mr. Cone, we see a young performer gradually rising in estimation. To
+the manners of a gentleman, he adds a habit of discrimination, the
+effect of a liberal education; and could he get over a certain
+inflexibility of voice, (whether arising from nature or habit we know
+not) he must very soon become a distinguished performer.
+
+Mr. M'Kenzie is also a most respectable and useful actor: his person and
+manner give him many advantages in performing characters requiring
+dignity and firmness of deportment; as Glenalvon in Douglas, he is
+excellent; and those who have witnessed his performance of sir Archy
+M'Sarcasm and sir Pertinax M'Sycophant, will unite with us in paying him
+the tribute of applause for his correct personification of the wily
+Scotchman.--His talents do not seem calculated for genteel comedy in
+general.
+
+Mrs. Barrett must be considered as a very useful actress; her figure is
+well adapted to the characters she undertakes, and her general
+deportment upon the stage immediately indicates her perfect acquaintance
+with the boards.
+
+Mrs. Wilmot needs not our panegyric to call forward that public
+attention she has so long merited; her qualifications as an actress are
+uncommonly general--whether we see her in genteel comedy, or in the
+English opera, we are equally gratified with the diversity of her
+talents. As a singer, her voice and judgment are equally conspicuous,
+and those who have seen her in the character of Ophelia, will readily
+admit her claim to the pathetic.
+
+In addition to Mrs. Wilmot as a vocal performer, we have Mrs. Seymour,
+who possesses much sweetness and melody of tone, and whose modest and
+unassuming manner of giving her songs is not their smallest attraction.
+
+In low comedy where shall we find a competitor to Jefferson? The only
+performer who seems to bear the comparison for a moment is Twaits; but
+although we willingly subscribe to his merits, yet we can by no means
+admit him capable of that variety of character for which Mr. Jefferson
+is so distinguished.
+
+Mr. Blisset is also very prominent in the same line--Together with a
+fund of humour he possesses a whimsical eccentricity of character which
+is always diverting; his voice however, is frequently too weak to be
+heard in the remote parts of the house.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Francis have long enjoyed the _favour_ of the public.
+Francis has much comic talent, sometimes, however, he is led by it, a
+little too much into the caricature. Mrs. F. is not less diverting, and
+remarkable for her appropriate manner of dressing for old characters; a
+property very estimable. The ladies too often sacrifice a correct
+representation of the character in this respect, to an unconquerable
+aversion they so naturally retain of appearing old and ugly.
+
+Mr. West, lately added to the company, seems to promise something in low
+comedy; and Mr. Hardinge, in Irish characters, and vocal parts will
+certainly be an acquisition to the theatre. Although our dramatis
+personae do not afford much strength as to their vocal abilities; some of
+those abovenamed, with the assistance of Wilmot and Jacobs, form a group
+sufficient to render a musical piece very entertaining.
+
+It should be recollected, that in all theatrical companies, there must
+necessarily be a number of inferior rank; performers of merit will not
+take the minor parts abounding in every dramatic piece; and while we
+condemn a want of excellence in the performer, we should consider, that
+did he possess more talent, he would not fill that situation.
+
+Our orchestra will assuredly bear the strictest scrutiny.--The names of
+Gillingham and Niniger are sufficient of themselves to stamp its
+character. The other accompaniments are very respectable and
+sufficiently numerous. The scenery, as far as the scale of the stage
+will admit, is frequently beautiful, sometimes superb. The illuminated
+wings recently exhibited in some of the pieces last produced, are new to
+this country, and have a very brilliant effect: they do much credit to
+Messrs. Robins and Stewart in the painting-room. The dresses of the
+principal performers are rich and beautiful; to those who are acquainted
+with European theatres, it will not be considered as amplifying, when we
+assert, that we do not yield to them in that species of decoration. The
+management of the scenery is as correct and subject to as few
+interruptions as possible; and the expedition with which one act
+succeeds another, can be only appreciated by those who have witnessed
+the tedious delay so often experienced in other places.
+
+We are assured no pains have been spared by the manager to procure the
+most eminent performers; nor is any opportunity omitted to take
+advantage of the accidental presence of any performer, whose engagement
+promises to gratify the town.
+
+This theatre has taken the lead in getting up every thing novel, in
+either branch of the drama, and that in a style very much superior to
+any other establishment of the kind upon the continent. It must be
+evident that it is the wish, as it is the interest of the manager, to
+conduct the trust committed to him upon the most liberal principles:
+that which pleases the public most, is most favourable to him.
+
+It must be observed, that the limits of a sketch like this, could only
+admit of a very concise and general view of the subject. The writer has
+no farther connexion or interest in the theatre, than that he holds in
+common with those who are partial to dramatic entertainments, and who
+think with him that a well regulated theatre, which is the only public
+amusement Baltimore can boast of, instructs while it amuses, and
+conduces much to that grace and elegance of conversation and manners so
+fascinating in private life.
+
+
+
+
+IRISH MUSIC.
+
+
+In the last number, the reader was presented with a short sketch upon
+the subject of Irish music, in a letter from the celebrated poet Moore.
+That gentleman very philosophically ascribes the mixture of levity and
+melancholy which is discernible in the character, as well as the music
+of the original native Irish, to political circumstances. All who have
+paid attention to the airs of that country must have perceived that they
+are extremely lively and exhilarating, or delightfully plaintive and
+melancholy. The former may be considered as displaying the ground-work,
+or the natural temperament, the other the superinduced adventitious
+character, derived from poverty and oppression. A writer of considerable
+talents and intimate knowledge of the subject (Mr. Walker) adverting to
+the poetry as well as the music of Ireland, speaks as follows:
+
+"We see that music maintained its ground in this country even after the
+invasion of the English, but its style suffered a change; for the
+sprightly Phrygian gave place to the grave Doric, or the soft Lydian
+measure. Such was the nice sensibility of the bards, such was their
+tender affection for their country, that the subjections to which the
+kingdom was reduced affected them with the heaviest sadness. Sinking
+beneath this weight of sympathetic sorrow, they became a prey to
+melancholy: hence the plaintiveness of their music: for the ideas that
+arise in the mind are always congenial to, and receive a mixture from
+the influencing passion. Another cause might have occurred in the one
+just mentioned, in promoting a change in the style of our music; the
+bards often driven together with their patrons, by the sword of
+oppression, from the busy haunts of men, were obliged to lie concealed
+in marshes, and in glyns and vallies resounding with the noise of
+falling waters, or filled with portentous echoes. Such scenes as these,
+by throwing a settled gloom over the fancy, must have considerably
+increased their melancholy; so that when they attempted to sing, it is
+not to be wondered at that their voices, thus weakened by struggling
+against heavy mental depression, should rise rather by minor-thirds,
+which consist but of four semitones, than by major-thirds which consist
+of five. Now almost all the airs of this period are found to be set in
+the minor-third, and to be of the sage and solemn nature which Milton
+requires in his IL PENSEROSO."[3]
+
+  [Footnote 3: See Hist. Mem. of the Irish Bards.]
+
+To illustrate his position, Mr. Walker introduces the following
+anecdote: "About the year 1730, one Maguire, a vintner, resided near
+Charing Cross, London. His house was much frequented, and his skill in
+playing on the harp was an additional incentive: even the duke of
+Newcastle and several of the ministry sometimes condescended to visit
+it. He was one night called upon to play some Irish tunes; he did so;
+they were plaintive and solemn. His guests demanded the reason, and he
+told them that the native composers were too deeply distressed at the
+situation of their country, and her gallant sons, to be able to compose
+otherwise. But, added he, take off the restraints under which they
+labour, and you will not have reason to complain of the plaintiveness of
+their notes.
+
+"Offence was taken at these warm effusions: his house became gradually
+neglected, and he died soon after of a broken heart. An Irish harper who
+was a cotemporary of Maguire, and like him, felt for the sufferings of
+his country, had this distich engraven on his harp:
+
+  Cur lyra funestas edit percussa sonores?
+  Sicut amissum sors diadema gemit.
+
+But perhaps the melancholy spirit which breathes through the Irish music
+and poetry, may be attributed to another cause; a cause which operated
+anterior and subsequent to the invasion of the English: we mean the
+remarkable susceptibility of the Irish to the passion of love; a passion
+which the munificent establishment of the bards left them at liberty
+freely to indulge. While the mind is enduring the torments of fear,
+despair or hope, its effusions cannot be gay. The greater number of the
+productions of those amorous poets, Tibullus, Catullus, Petrarch and
+Hammond, are elegiac. The subject of their songs is always love, and
+they seem to understand poetry to be designed for no other purpose than
+to stir up that passion in the mind.
+
+
+
+
+SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.
+
+COLONEL THORNTON'S DEPARTURE FROM YORKSHIRE.
+
+
+Every true sportsman of this county must regret to hear that what has
+been for sometime rumoured has at last taken place. Colonel Thornton has
+been induced to part with Falconer's-hall, and if the report is true, we
+have to congratulate him in having selected the most enviable and
+princely domain in England, a residence unparalleled in its situation,
+either for a man of fashion, a _bon vivant_, or a sportsman. After
+having given the very best sport in hawking, coursing and hunting, at
+Scarborough, Falconer's-hall, and to the Saltergate Club, the colonel, a
+few days since, proceeded through York, in his way to Spy Park, in
+Wiltshire, followed by a cavalcade, (such as attracted the attention of
+the whole of this place) in the following order:
+
+First, the boat-wagon, so well known by the opponents of my lord Milton,
+and held by the owner invaluable, from having conveyed not less than
+three thousand independent free-holders of this virtuous county to vote,
+and ultimately, in spite of ministerial influence, to elect lord Milton,
+a descendent of that man, the pattern of patriotism and unexampled
+rectitude, Charles Watson Wentworth, marquis of Rockingham;--this wagon,
+admirably contrived for the carrying of luggage or loose dogs, covered
+with the skins of stags, fallow-deer and roebucks killed by the colonel,
+nets, otter spears, fishing rods, and guns, drawn by four thorough-bred
+cream-coloured Arabian mares bred by the king. Next a dog-cart, which
+carried milk-white terriers, and beautiful gray-hounds; these were all
+sheeted and embroidered with the different matches they had won: the
+novelty of this appeared to excite particular gratification. The
+huntsman, mounted upon a powerful, fine gray hunter, followed by an
+immense pack (judged not less than one hundred couple) of stag-hounds,
+fox-hounds, and otter-hounds, and lively lap-dog beagles. A stud-groom
+and four grooms, each leading a thorough-bred horse, the descendants,
+as it was said, of Jupiter;--deer-skins covered them by way of housing.
+A keeper appropriately dressed, with three brace of pointers. The
+falconer in green and silver, surrounded by hawks, and on his fist a
+venerable grand-duke, closed this procession. Following, we understand,
+there were nine wagon loads of old wine and ale, brought from Thornvile
+Royal, inestimable from its age, and held by the duke of York as the
+finest wine in the kingdom. These wines, moved at such an immense
+expense, were from twenty-five to an hundred years old.
+
+Many sportsmen, though delighted with the _coup d'[oe]il_, could not
+forbear saying they should never see such sport as they had enjoyed with
+the colonel, and envied those who were now to partake of his amusements
+and hospitality in Wiltshire.
+
+The distance we understand this cavalcade is to travel, is about two
+hundred miles. A farther account of this very valuable removal, and
+their safe arrival at their destination (and such was the sincere wish
+of all the spectators) we hope to give hereafter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Spy Park is situated in that part of the county of Wilts called North
+Wiltshire, which is very dissimilar, in geographical features and
+natural characteristics, to the southern portion of the county. Whilst
+the former is distinguished by its numerous inclosures, dairy farms, and
+manufacturing towns, the latter is chiefly occupied by the
+wide-spreading downs called Salisbury Plain.
+
+Spy Park has, for many generations, been the property of the Baynton
+family, some of whom appear to have been knights of St. John of
+Jerusalem, in the time of Henry II. The late sir Edward Baynton Holt,
+bart. died at the advanced age of ninety, in January, 1800, when his
+estates devolved to his son and heir, sir Andrew Baynton Holt, who has
+recently sold or let Spy Park to colonel Thornton.
+
+The mansion is a plain but spacious building, seated in a park which
+abounds with fine old oak and other timber trees. The grounds are
+diversified by bold swells and winding vallies, and command at various
+stations, some extensive and interesting prospects. To the south-east
+the bold promontory called Roundaway-hill, presents its steep acclivity,
+with its commanding encampment on the summit. A range of lofty
+chalk-hills extend thence for several miles to the east, on the southern
+face of which is the White-Horse of Cherril, and above it is another
+encampment, called Oldbury-castle.
+
+At the extremity of the park, towards the west, the grounds slope
+gradually to the river Avon, and its fertile meadows; and at an old
+gate, called the Spy, a very extensive tract of country is unfolded.
+Whilst the plantations of Bowden Park, and the venerable abbey of
+Laycock, attract the eye near the fore-ground, the lofty free-stone
+hills around Bath are seen in the middle distance, and a large tract of
+Gloucestershire is observed extending to the north-east; whilst the more
+picturesque and romantic features of Somersetshire are beheld,
+stretching to the horizon, in the west and south-western directions. The
+park includes an area of nearly eight miles in circumference, and during
+the residence of the late sir Edward, its venerable forest-like trees
+were sacredly preserved from the axe; they were, however, I am informed,
+considerably thinned by the last proprietor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Since the publication of colonel Thornton's departure from Yorkshire,
+the following letter has appeared in the public prints:
+
+I am happy to inform the public, through the medium of your interesting
+paper, that the cavalcade of colonel Thornton at this place, was
+distinguished by a junction of an immense number of sporting and other
+valuable paintings; together with a collection of rare exotic plants,
+and three wagon loads of bald-faced and other red deer, roebucks,
+Asiatic deer, and party-coloured fallow deer; a _garde chasse_ had the
+charge of two brace of Russian and French wild boars, the latter
+understood to be a present from Napoleon, in return for seventy couple
+of high-bred fox-hounds, descended from the famous old Conqueror, and
+sent to the emperor Napoleon during the last peace, whose high mettle
+afforded him the most exquisite gratification. A brace of cormorants
+with silver rings around their necks, and broke in for fish-hunting;
+together with ichneumons and pole-cat ferrit, for rat-hunting, and some
+beautiful milk-white Muscovy ducks, and a number of high-bred blood
+mares, foals, colts, fillies, and the two famous horses, the Esterhazy
+and Theodolite, closed this splendid procession; and it is understood
+that on their arrival at Spy Park they were met by the colonel and some
+sporting friends, who expressed their astonishment, that after having
+travelled through such almost impassable roads, amid torrents of rain,
+and particularly the lap-dog beagles, not more than thirteen inches and
+a half in height, and consequently often swimming, they should have
+arrived without the least injury.
+
+  I am, &c.
+    A SPECTATOR.
+
+  _Chippenham._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Rockdale races, the Brighton shepherd, so well known as a pedestrian,
+was matched against a horse of the honourable captain Harley Rodney's
+(rode by lord Rodney), for one hundred yards. This race, from its
+novelty, excited very considerable attention, and was won by the
+shepherd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A short time since, Rickets, the celebrated Hampshire pedestrian,
+undertook, for a wager of five guineas, to run seventeen miles in two
+hours, which he performed in one hour and forty-nine minutes. He has
+undertaken, for one hundred guineas, to run twenty miles in two hours,
+and will attempt it soon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An extraordinary feat of pedestrianism was performed, by a man of the
+name of Williams, steward to Mr. Crouch. He was backed for twenty
+guineas, to go twenty miles in two hours. He started at Hammersmith, and
+did the distance in unfavourable weather, in seven minutes within the
+given time. His track was from Colnbrook, and to return to near the
+Magpies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BUXTON BIT AND CHARLTON BRADOON.
+
+The former useful as well as elegant appendage to the harness of the
+dashing chariot of the day is just introduced by Charles Buxton, esq.
+The advantages arising from this improvement are obvious: in respect to
+their infallible quality of preventing the numberless accidents which
+daily occur by horses running away, they are peculiarly desirable. These
+bits are made upon a very simple construction; they give the person who
+has the reins in hand, the power of checking the horse by the most easy
+movement imaginable, however light in hand, or hard in mouth (boring on
+the bit) he may be. There are four loops in this regulating bit; in all
+others there is only one. Mr. Buxton very much opposes the principle on
+which lord Hawke, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Thornhill act, with respect to
+the chain, instead of the pole pieces. The Charlton bradoon, a favourite
+for more than twenty years, has lost its consequence by the new
+invention; the bearing rein now passes through the throat lash, but
+formerly it only entered the bit, and went straight to the territ.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two divines who rendered themselves so very conspicuous at the late
+punching match, at Moulsey, excuse themselves by observing, that the
+apostolic injunction, "a bishop should be no striker," was never
+intended to restrain the conduct of the inferior clergy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A match was made a short time ago, for one hundred guineas, play or pay,
+for a hack mare, the property of Mr. Sitwell, to perform fifty-six miles
+in four hours, with half an hour stoppage allowed for feeding. The match
+was undertaken soon after, from a spot near Shillingford, Berks, to
+Haunston, and the mare did her task in seven minutes less than the given
+time. She performed chiefly by the trot, and baited after going half the
+distance in three minutes less than half the time. The odds were
+considerably against the performance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A HARE CHASED BY A FLOCK OF GEESE!
+
+A flock of geese belonging to Mr. Lloyd, of the town-house, at Marford,
+seven miles from Chester, lately set a hare on the top of that hill,
+when poor puss, bursting from the cackling tribe, ran down the hill and
+was pursued by the whole flock, some flying, some running with extended
+wings till they overtook her, when puss slyly gave them the double; and,
+returning, was so closely pursued by the irritated flock as to be taken
+alive by a servant-girl of Mrs. Pate's, as she was attempting the latch
+in her mistresses garden, in the presence of upwards of twenty
+spectators. Her carcass was afterwards made a present of to a
+wedding-party in that neighbourhood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE WALKING-POST.
+
+The name of this extraordinary person, whose labours surpass any of the
+boasted pedestrian achievements, is William Brackbank. He is a native of
+Millom, in Cumberland. He daily performed the distance between
+Whitehaven and Ulverstone, on foot, under the disagreeable circumstance
+of frequently wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he
+constantly went, which is at least three miles round; and, including the
+different calls he had to make, at a short distance from the road, his
+daily task was not short of forty-seven miles. He is at present
+walking-post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of
+sixteen miles, which he performs every day, Sundays excepted; returns
+the same evening, and personally delivers the letters, newspapers, &c.
+in that populous and commercial county, to all near the road, which
+makes his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards; and
+what is more extraordinary, he has performed this business, for upwards
+of two years, without the intervention of a day, except Sunday, and has
+never varied a quarter of an hour, from his usual time of arriving at
+Glossop. He performs all this in less than twelve hours a day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A foot-race was run in the park between a lieutenant Hawkey and a Mr.
+Snowden of Nottingham-street. The distance was two hundred yards, the
+stakes fifty guineas, and the performers not being professional runners,
+some betting took place. The race was won by about a yard by Mr.
+Snowden, and the distance was performed in twelve seconds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PUGILISM.
+
+A battle took place at Wilsden Green, between Tom O'Donnell, and a
+countryman, by trade a boot-closer. They fought forty-five hard rounds,
+in which the countryman got a severe beating. Having boasted before the
+battle that he could beat any man, he left the field of action, as may
+be supposed, a little ashamed of himself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A severe battle was fought at Marlborough-common, Wilts, by Mr. Howell,
+hatter, and Mr. Titcomb, both of Marlborough. Soon after eight they set
+to, the former seconded by Mr. Mead, collar-maker, and the latter by an
+ostler at the Castle-inn. The first three rounds were in favour of
+Howell, who laughed at his antagonist, and told him if he could not
+strike harder he had better have staid at home; but the fourth round put
+an end to his laughing, having received a left-handed blow on his head,
+which cut his ear, and brought him to the ground; although he never
+recovered this blow, yet he stood twenty-five rounds and showed good
+bottom, but was so exhausted by the loss of blood, and so severely
+beaten in the body as well as his face, that he gave in to Titcomb, who
+said he had no objection to such exercise every morning in the week.
+
+A pitched battle for one hundred guineas, was fought at Bognor, Bucks,
+between a farmer of the name of Mitchell, who resides at Bognor, and a
+publican of the name of George. The match was made in consequence of a
+dispute respecting their merits as boxers. The battle lasted fifty-five
+minutes, in the presence of about one thousand spectators. It was what a
+professional boxer would have termed gluttony from beginning to ending.
+There was no advantage in skill, strength or bottom, the former of which
+neither of the champions possessed, but it was fighting in earnest at a
+scratch, until one was knocked down. Mitchell at length gave in, but he
+was able to walk away, which was not the case with the victor, who was
+put to bed at the house next the scene of action. The victor was
+seconded by Jones, a professional bruiser from London.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A remarkable instance of the effects of fear on irrational animals
+lately occurred in Blickling Park, Norfolk, during the races there: At
+the very height of sport, a covey of partridges sprang up, and were
+flying across the ground, when overcome with alarm at the noise and
+bustle of the scene, they fell lifeless among the crowded throng, and
+were picked up by some of the spectators.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A singular occurrence lately took place at Cobham church: The earl of
+Darnley was followed there by one of his pointers, which shortly became
+mad, and threw the whole congregation into confusion and alarm. A
+countryman, with great courage, procured a rope, and slipped it round
+the animal's neck, and hung him across one of the pews. Fortunately no
+person sustained any injury.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A most enormous shark was lately caught by the fishermen at Hastings; it
+was entangled in seventeen of their nets, and completely broke them all;
+but being wounded and nearly spent, they contrived to tow on shore this
+monster of the deep. It measures thirty feet in length, and upwards of
+twenty in circumference, and is supposed to weigh at least ten ton; has
+four rows of teeth, and the throat is so large that it could swallow a
+man with the greatest ease. It is considered to be the largest of the
+species ever met with in any of the seas of Europe. Colonel Bothwell has
+purchased it for his friend Mr. Home, the surgeon, of Sackville-street,
+who intends to dissect it, and place the skeleton in his museum.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DUCK SHOOTING.
+
+FROM "FOWLING,"--A POEM.
+
+    The shadowy Night has nearly run her course
+  Over the silent world--the cock repeats
+  His warning note--behooves us to prepare
+  For our expected sport. Now when the stars
+  Slowly decrease, and the faint glimmering light,
+  First trembles in the east, we hasten forth,
+  To seek the rushing river's wandering wave.
+  The doubtful gloom shall favour our approach,
+  And should we through th' o'erhanging bushes view
+  The dim-discovered flock, the well-aim'd shot
+  Shall have insur'd success, nor leave the day
+  To be consum'd in vain. For shy the game,
+  Nor easy of access: the fowler's toils
+  Precarious; but inur'd to ev'ry chance,
+  We urge those toils with glee. E'en the broad sun,
+  In his meridian brightness, shall not check
+  Our steady labour; for some rushy pool,
+  Some hollow willowy bank, the skulking birds
+  May then conceal, which our stanch dogs shall pierce,
+  And drive them clam'ring forth. Those tow'ring rocks,
+  With nodding wood o'erhung, that faintly break
+  Upon the straining eye, descending deep,
+  A hollow basin form, the which receives
+  The foaming torrent from above. Around
+  Thick alders grow. We steal upon the spot
+  With cautious step, and peering out, survey
+  The restless flood. No object meets our eye.
+  But hark what sound is that approaching near,
+  "Down close," The wild-ducks come, and darting down,
+  Throw up on ev'ry side the troubled wave;
+  Then gayly swim around with idle play,
+  With breath restrain'd, and palpitating heart,
+  I view their movements, whilst my well-taught dogs
+  Like lifeless statues crouch. Now is the time,
+  Closer they join; nor will the growing light
+  Admit of more delay--with fiery burst,
+  The unexpected death invades the flock;
+  Tumbling they lie, and beat the dashing pool,
+  Whilst those remoter from the fatal range
+  Of the swift shot, mount up on vig'rous wing,
+  And wake the sleeping echoes as they fly.
+  Quick on the floating spoil my spaniels rush,
+  And drag them to the shore.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MISCELLANY.
+
+
+A more lively and yet poignant satire upon the wilful corruption of the
+stage, the degeneracy of the public taste, and the reigning follies of
+the British nation can scarcely be imagined than the following, which,
+with several more under the same signature, has appeared in a celebrated
+periodical work in London.
+
+_To the right worshipful John Bull, of the united kingdom of Great
+Britain and Ireland._
+
+RESPECTED SIR,
+
+Denied access to your sacred person, I avail myself of the press to
+solicit your notice. You have, doubtless, by this time totally forgotten
+poor Theobaldus Secundus, for short memories are not the exclusive
+property of great wits. Truth is said to lie at the bottom of a well,
+and as your worship seldom looks beyond the surface, I am not surprised
+that she should hitherto have eluded your researches. If fate has
+ordained my inkstand to be the bucket that shall draw her from her
+watery grave for your edification, I expect a premium from your humane
+society for my pains. If not, "you may kill the next Percy yourself." I
+am now to solicit your patience, while I recount my adventures, in doing
+which I shall ape the dignity rather than the prolixity, of the runaway
+prince of Troy, when seated on the high bed of the enamoured queen of
+Carthage.
+
+I am, may it please your worship, grand nephew to the renowned Lewis
+Theobald, one of those numerous broth-spoiling commentators, who have
+smothered poor Shakspeare in the onion sauce of conjectural criticism.
+My great uncle was, with reverence be it spoken, a great blockhead; but
+that was no fault of his, he being a younger brother, and the family
+genius being vested in my grandfather, with remainder to his sons in
+tail male. From my earliest childhood I have looked upon Shakspeare as
+the real king of England, and the two winter theatres as his proper
+palaces. "The period spent on stubborn Troy," has now elapsed, since I
+began a commentary on the plays of our immortal bard. O, the rivers of
+ink that I have exhausted in cleansing his Augean page from the
+black-letter filth heaped upon it by his different commentators! The
+task was laborious, but such labour is my delight. The waters of Avon
+suit my palate better than Boniface's ale. "I eat my Shakspeare, I drink
+my Shakspeare, and (when certain players enact him) I always sleep upon
+my Shakspeare."
+
+Apollo was a doctor of physic as well as a doctor of divinity, and
+Dryden, we are told, took his physic whenever he wanted to borrow his
+inspiration. A dramatic writer of the present day writes tragedy in a
+helmet facing a mirror. Ever while you live encourage the imagination!
+My faith in Shakspeare is so unbounded, that I verily believe the
+hell-broth of Macbeth's witches would, if properly mixed, engender a
+real armed head and bloody child. I lately at a great expense, collected
+all the materials in my kitchen-copper; I must own the experiment
+failed; but I found out the cause. The resurrection man, whom I employed
+to get me the "liver of blaspheming Jew," had made free with the corpse
+of a very religious man of that persuasion. I must be more careful
+another time--but this is foreign to our present purpose.
+
+Having completed my commentary, my parched hopes sighed for the golden
+shower, which I expected from presenting my dedication to your worship.
+The times were tempting, your two winter playhouses were at that time
+experiencing a nightly overflow, and a Tragedy was, as she should be,
+all the rage! I knew not the cause, but rejoicing in the effect, huddled
+my manuscript into my great-coat pocket, and trotted to your residence
+in Portland-place. For be it known, sir, to those whom it may concern,
+(your tradesmen) that you no longer reside within five minutes' walk of
+the Royal Exchange. Formerly you passed your evenings in posting your
+leger, and shaking your head at the follies of Fashion; you now exhaust
+that portion of the day in posting to the opera, or shaking your heels
+at Willis's rooms, and your elbows at the Union Club. If I felt pleased
+at finding you at home, how was my satisfaction increased, by hearing
+from a yellow-bellied waspish footman that you were busy with the first
+tragedian of the day? Good! said I to myself, this must be Kemble: there
+is no man better able to appreciate my labours--I'll break in upon them
+without ceremony. On approaching your worship's door, I heard the words
+"knuckle down" articulated in a shrill voice. I thought this an odd
+exclamation for the first tragedian of the day; but how was I petrified
+with astonishment, on entering the room, to find you on your knees,
+playing at marbles with the little Roscius! Speechless with admiration I
+retired unperceived. To have deranged a single taw would, in my mind,
+have been a sacrilege as great as an attempt to upset the balance of the
+Copernican system. I had scarce time to reflect on your improvement in
+dramatic taste, when I learned that you had engaged a Roscia at your
+theatre in Covent-Garden. Indeed, so wide had your love of the rising
+generation at that time extended, I was credibly informed that Genoa was
+on the point of shipping a squalling Roscium for the edification of your
+opera-house, when the bubble burst like the gas of the Pall-Mall
+lamp-lighter: Reason's dragon-teeth had been buried long enough, and a
+race of men succeeded. The worshipful John Bull acted the part of the
+cow, in Tom Thumb. Ridicule, that infallible emetic of sick minds, had
+eased your stomach of its baby incumbrance; Miss Mudie returned to her
+mamma, and Master Betty also retired to break Priscian's head, and hide
+his own in the bosom of alma mater.
+
+How elastic is hope when a man thinks he has written a good book, and
+what mortal ever supposed himself the author of a bad one? _Quassas
+reficit rates._ I again collected my darling notes on Shakspeare, and in
+the firm hope that your stomach was well disposed to its natural
+aliment, assaulted your door with face as brazen as the knocker I
+handled. It was Saturday night, and your yellow barouche was waiting at
+the door, but I confidently reckoned upon five minutes' conversation
+with you, ere you repaired to the evening lecture, to which I concluded
+a sober man like you was about to adjourn. While hesitating upon the fit
+mode to address you, a figure descended the stairs, which, at first
+sight, I mistook for an Alguazil, in a plethora, but upon nearer
+approach found to be your worshipful self, posting to the opera, clad in
+a great-coat of the newest cut, all fringe and frippery, the offspring
+of a German tailor. You and your cloak were so enveloped in frogs and
+self-conceit, that I could compare you to nothing but king Pharaoh,
+inoculated with a plague greater than any in Egypt, an Italian singer.
+After desiring me in a surly tone, to call tomorrow morning, your
+worship mounted your vehicle, and scampered away to the region of
+recitative. O, cried I, in bitterness of spirit, why has John Bull, my
+revered patron, quitted his city residence? in his warehouse he has
+bales of cotton in abundance, and might, like the wise Ulysses, stuff
+his large and long ears with a portion of that commodity, to enable him
+to escape the snares of the Haymarket syren.
+
+Those who have patrons must also have patience. I dissembled my chagrin,
+and you may remember, most worshipful sir, that I called the ensuing
+day, at two o'clock, to allow you time to ponder on the morning's
+service. Alas! I was now fated to be forestalled by a son of France, as
+I had before been by a daughter of Italy. Both kingdoms boast the same
+emperor, and their natives come hither upon the same embassy. While I
+and Shakspeare were kicking our heels in the hall, you and Mons.
+Deshayes were kicking yours before a pier glass in the drawing-room. I
+had soon the satisfaction to observe your worship endeavouring to
+imitate the te-totum pirouettes of that agile gentleman, in doing which
+you bore a much stronger resemblance to the dervise in the Arabian Tale,
+inasmuch, as after spinning some time, you threw down a purse, which the
+wily foreigner, as light of finger as of foot, did not fail to pocket.
+This, to be sure was no time for Shakspeare; I, therefore, left your
+worship, hoodwinked by the Frenchman, _so turn about three times and
+catch whom you may_.
+
+I now sported the sullens in dignified retirement--but it would not do:
+murder will out, and so will manuscripts. I resolved to make one more
+effort. But were I to bring to your recollection all the mortifying
+repulses I endured, I should quite destroy that patience of which you
+stand so much in need, to listen to the debates at the next meeting of
+your common council. At one time, naked from the waist upwards, you were
+waging war with Belcher, the _Hittite_: at another, you had taken an
+invisible girl into keeping: your cash was drained by lotteries,
+missionaries, and mountebanks of all sorts and sizes: boys, even the
+deaf, the dumb, and the blind, quitted their asylum in St. George's
+Fields, for a more lucrative one on the boards of your theatres. Your
+comic operas were, like Muzio Clementi's carts, mere vehicles for music,
+and vehicles withal of such a clumsy fabric, that poor Euterpe, when she
+took her nightly airings, reminded the spectator of Punch's wife in a
+wheelbarrow; every expense was incurred, and every scribbler taken into
+pay, except poor Shakspeare and his poorer commentator.
+
+One morning, about eleven o'clock, as I was indulging myself in a
+solitary ramble over Blackfriars-bridge, I espied your well-known
+barouche, which I followed, and observed to stop at the Elephant and
+Castle! Heighday! said I, this is a metamorphosis indeed! John Bull has
+returned to nature at last. He prefers "the sanded floor that grits
+beneath the tread," to a Persian carpet, and a pot of porter to the
+"wines of France and milk of Burgundy." I'll go and smoke a pipe with
+him! here again I was in error, your carriage having passed the
+public-house, and stopped at a methodist meeting adjoining. It seems
+your worship had, with religious abhorrence, passed by the Elephant and
+Castle, but borrowing in part the imagery of that sign, had converted
+your half-reasoning self into a clumsy Christian pedler, with a bundle
+of contraband goods at your back. One Joanna, it seems, was the
+priestess of this temple, and your worship had commenced so strong a
+flirtation with the Lambeth sybil, that all the world looked upon
+wedlock as inevitable. As I stood in the porch, I overheard your amatory
+sighs and groans which sounded in my ears like Boreas wooing Vulcan
+through a cranny in a chimney-corner. On approaching your pew, how was I
+struck with the change in your physiognomy! Your face heretofore as red
+and round as the full moon, had, by the joint influence of that planet
+and the aforesaid Joanna, extended itself to a length, which Momus
+forbid mine should ever attain, unless when reflected from a
+table-spoon, at the Piazza coffee-house!
+
+It was now confidently reported, that the days of Jeremy Collier had
+returned: that the theatres were to be shut up, his majesty's servants
+to receive their arrears of scarlet cloth, for regimentals to serve him
+in the capacity of foot-soldiers: that the slayers of Syntax, who had
+stuffed their mouths with melo-drames, and other pernicious compounds,
+were to turn hewers of wood, and that your worship would license no
+pantomimes, except those exhibited in the Blackfriars and
+Tottenham-court roads.
+
+This intelligence rather pleased than alarmed me. I believed it only to
+a certain extent, conceiving the fact to be, that my respected patron
+was sick of silk banners and Peruvian suns, exhausting more gold than
+they engendered, and that a ray of true taste was hereafter to dawn upon
+the dramatic horizon. "The theatre," exclaimed I, "is the school of
+morality; and morality and religion are inseparable." Without stopping
+to prove my syllogism, I seized my commentary, and with a head and a
+great-coat pocket full of my immortal labours, called once more in
+Portland-place. You received me with civility, desired me to take a
+seat, and treated me with a cup of chocolate, declining to take any
+yourself, on account of a nausea at your stomach, which I ascribed to a
+certain sentimental pill you had lately swallowed, rolled up in the
+shape of a comedy, and for which I undertook to prescribe. You requested
+me with eagerness to do so, and I drew my manuscript from my pocket,
+thinking the golden moment at hand. I conjured you to consider, that in
+dramatic entertainments the love of show was like the love of money, and
+increased by indulgences, beyond the power of a manager to gratify: I
+proved by mathematical demonstration, that small theatres wanted nothing
+but good dialogue to support them: I entreated you to send your gorgeous
+trumpery to rag-fair, and to diminish your overgrown Drury, which no man
+could now think of entering unaccompanied by a telescope and an
+ear-trumpet. All the persuasions of a Tully, all the energy of a
+Waithman, were enlisted into my harangue; which finished by exhorting
+your worship to step back half a century in your dramatic career, to a
+period when theatrical property was somewhat more than a mouthful of
+moonshine;--when Shakspeare was, indeed as he should be, and when
+nothing was talked of in this great metropolis, save the great Goliath
+of Stratford, on the banks of the Avon, and little David, of the
+Adelphic terrace, on the banks of the Thames.
+
+This eloquent harangue was no sooner concluded, than your worship burst
+into a horse-laugh, and stamping your foot on the floor, the room was
+instantly filled with as motley a group as ever giggled decorum out of
+countenance at a masquerade: among whom I recognized a zany, with a
+blue perriwig, bestriding a large goose, and brandishing a golden egg,
+whilst your worship was clapping your hands in all the raptures of
+applause. "Perdition seize this fellow," cried your worship, pointing to
+me, "his tongue chatters like a cherry-clapper, and lies like the
+prospectus of a new magazine! All you, my pimps, parasites, and
+pensioners--my leading mistresses and led captain--my mummers and
+melo-dramatists, who conspire to drill holes in the breeches-pockets of
+John Bull, that his coin may not corrode for want of circulation; if
+ever this fellow enters my house again, with his deer-stealing Stratford
+vagabond under his arm, tie them both up in a hopsack, and throw them
+into the Thames!
+
+Such treatment, sir, I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.
+When I expected the golden apple,--to be then pelted with a golden egg,
+was too much for human endurance; I, therefore, took my leave with the
+following address: "May your worship's stage be glutted with monsters,
+running upon all fours, with your own taste! May wit and humour wing
+their flight to another region, and the mighty void be supplied by
+maukish sentiment, horse-collar grins, wood-demons, and other
+show-cattle of the Smithfield muses! May you be visited by a locust
+tribe of scribblers, who shall conspire to torment that groaning martyr,
+the Press, with ducal lampoons, drowsy epics, and zig-zag heroics! With
+Hope the upholsterer, and Bryon the idler, with Joe Miller in quarto,
+Genius in thin duodecimo, Leadenhall romances, and Puritan biography:
+and should your worship ever find yourself deviating from the path of
+virtue, may _Hannah Glasse_ preserve your temperance, _Hannah More_ your
+soberness, and _Anacreon Moore_ your chastity!"
+
+One word more, sir, and I take my leave. It was the opinion of Ophelia's
+grave digger, that your worship was to the full as mad as the
+hare-brained lover of that young lady. This circumstance gives that
+royal youth a title to your first regards: my annotations on _Hamlet,
+Prince of Denmark_, shall accordingly be submitted to your consideration
+at our next monthly meeting,
+
+  I am, &c,
+    THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DR. YOUNG.--THE BROTHERS.
+
+Young, the celebrated author of the Night Thoughts, wrote a tragedy
+called the Brothers, and appropriated the profits of his third nights of
+the representation for the benefit of some public charity. But the
+proceeds falling short of one thousand pounds, which he had expected
+would have been raised in this way, he very bountifully supplied the
+deficiency by an additional donation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+OTHELLO BURLESQUED.
+
+There was formerly in the Northern Liberties a petty theatre, called
+Noah's Ark, from its being in the neighbourhood of a tavern, of which
+that was the sign. A ludicrous circumstance took place there about
+twenty years ago; a hobble-de-hoy, of the name of Purcell, with a wizen
+face like "Death and Sin," having met with misfortunes, hired the
+theatre for one night, and advertised Othello for his benefit. He played
+himself the character of the valiant Moor. As he had many friends who
+made considerable exertions in his favour, the house was crowded. His
+acting was so truly ludicrous, that the audience instead of letting fall
+the pearly drops over their cheeks, were in an unceasing roar of
+laughter. Between the play and the farce a drunken fellow of the name of
+Vaughan was to deliver the celebrated epilogue of "Bucks, have at ye
+all." He had made the most solemn promise to abstain from his usual drop
+of grog till he had performed his tour of duty. But alas! poor human
+nature, like other great men, he yielded to the temptation of a flowing
+bowl. When he came on the stage, and had just made a beginning--
+
+  "Ye social friends--
+
+A slight hiss was heard, which enraged him so much that he stopped, and
+looked among the audience with indignation, trying to discover what
+jealous rival was endeavouring to discompose him--a silence ensued for a
+minute; Vaughan then began again:
+
+  Ye social friends of claret and of wit,
+  Where'er dispersed in merry groupes ye sit.
+
+About ten or a dozen persons then hissed pretty loudly. Vaughan stamped
+on the floor, clenched his fist, struck his thigh, and cried out in a
+loud voice, "damn you, ye black-guards--I wish I had you here--I'd soon
+settle you." A universal hiss took place--the enraged orator was pelted
+off the stage, and poor Purcell had to come forward and make an apology.
+In this extemporaneous effort, his success was as splendid as in his
+performance of Othello. He hoped, he said, the ladies and gentlemen
+would not go for to say, for to do, for to think that he was at all to
+blame--that it was all Dr. Vaughan's fault--for though he had promised
+to keep sober till the play was over, he had got as drunk as David's sow
+before it began. This elegant harangue produced the desired effect, and
+appeased the angry passions of the gods and goddesses. A parley ensued.
+Peace was made. A promise was given that Vaughan should be allowed to
+proceed without hissing--and he accordingly came out and recited the
+epilogue, now and again looking among the audience to discover who was
+murmuring a slight hiss, which the keen ears of the speaker would not
+let escape. As soon as he was done, he had the high gratification of a
+universal hiss from almost every individual in the house, and was once
+more pelted off in spite of all his ire and loudly vociferated threats.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VANDERMERE.
+
+This performer was the most complete Harlequin that ever trod the
+British stage. His agility was to the last degree astonishing. He has
+leaped through a window on the stage, when pursued by the clown, full
+thirteen feet high. Whenever he was in the play-bills in Dublin, he
+attracted crowded houses. One night, when he had a prodigious leap to
+perform, the persons behind the scenes who were to have received him in
+a blanket, were not prepared in time, and of course he fell on the
+boards, and was miserably bruised. He then took a most solemn oath, that
+he would never leap again on the stage. Nor did he violate his oath.
+Thenceforward, when he performed Harlequin, George Dawson, another
+actor about his size, and very active, was attired in the party-coloured
+robes. Whenever in the course of the pantomime a leap was requisite,
+Vandermere passed off on one side--Dawson came in on the other, and
+leaped. Then Vandermere returned and went through the Harlequinian
+tricks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A TRUE STORY.
+
+    In days of yore, th' historic page
+  Says, women were proscrib'd the stage;
+  And boys and men in petticoats
+  Play'd female parts with Stentor's notes.
+  The cap, the stays, the high-heel'd shoe,
+  The 'kerchief and the bonnet too,
+  With apron as the lily white,
+  Put all the male attire to flight--
+  The culotte, waistcoat, and cravat,
+  The bushy wig, and gold-trimm'd hat.
+  Ye gods! behold! what high burlesque,
+  Jane Shore and Juliet thus grotesque!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  King Charles one night, jocund and gay,
+  To Drury went, to see a play--
+  Kynaston was to act a queen--
+  But to his tonsor he'd not been:
+  He was a mirth-inspiring soul
+  Who lov'd to quaff the flowing bowl--
+  And on his way the wight had met
+  A roaring bacchanalian set;
+  With whom he to "_the Garter_" hies,
+  Regardless how time slyly flies.
+  And while he circulates the glass,
+  Too rapidly the moments pass;
+  At length in haste the prompter sends.
+  And tears Kynaston from his friends;
+  Tho' he'd much rather there remain,
+  He hurries on to Drury Lane.
+  When in the green-room he appear'd,
+  He scar'd them with his bushy beard,
+  The barber quick his razor strops,
+  And lather'd well _her royal chops_:
+  While he the stubble mow'd away,
+  The audience curs'd such long delay:
+  They scream'd--they roar'd--they loudly bawl'd.
+  And with their cat-calls _sweetly_ squall'd:
+  Th' impatient monarch storm'd and rav'd--
+  "_The queen, dread sire, is not quite shav'd_!"
+  Was bellow'd by the prompter loud--
+  This cogent reason was allow'd
+  As well by king as noisy crowd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+VOLTAIRE'S IDEA OF ORIGINALITY IN WRITING.
+
+A young poet having consulted him on a tragedy full of extraordinary
+incidents, Voltaire pointed out to him the defects of his piece. The
+writer replied, that he had purposely forsaken the beaten track of
+Corneille and Racine. "So much the worse," replied Voltaire,
+"originality is nothing but judicious imitation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day when his Irene was performing at the house of the marquis de
+Villette, a celebrated actress reciting her part rather negligently,
+Voltaire said to her, "Really, mademoiselle, it is unnecessary for me to
+write verses of six feet, if you gulp down three of them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the performance of one of his tragedies, the success of which was
+equivocal, the abbe Pellegrin complained loudly that Voltaire had stolen
+some verses from him. "How can you, who are so rich," said the abbe,
+"thus seize upon the property of another?" "What! have I stolen from
+you?" replied Voltaire; "then I no longer wonder that my piece has met
+with so little approbation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+KNOW THYSELF.
+
+There is an anecdote related in the Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV,
+which reflects some credit on that monarch's understanding, and may be
+of service to multitudes of the _bourgeoisie_ of every city in the
+world, if properly digested and acted upon.
+
+A _negociant_, who took the lead of all the rest in Paris, was in
+particular favour with the king, and without formality consulted by him,
+in all that he wished to know relating to mercantile affairs. At length
+the man of the counting-house, whose wealth was enormous, felt his
+ambition excited, and nothing would content him but a _title_. After
+many fruitless overtures, Louis at last granted his request, and never
+treated him with friendly familiarity again. The trader, exceedingly
+hurt at this neglect, made free one day to inquire the cause. "It is
+your own fault," said the monarch, "you have degraded yourself--you were
+the first as a merchant--you are the lowest as a peer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MADAME MARE AND FLORIO.
+
+This once celebrated singer has, according to German papers, retired to
+an estate in Poland. During her late residence at Moscow, her companion
+Florio, was involved in a very unpleasant affair. A letter, signed
+Richard Florio, written in French, and filled with invectives against
+the Russian government, was put into the post office at St. Petersburgh.
+The person it was addressed to handed it over to the police. Florio was
+arrested at Moscow, and conveyed prisoner to St. Petersburgh. Here,
+however he was speedily released, his name being not Richard, but
+Charles, and it appearing that he was totally ignorant of the French
+language. The emperor Alexander overhearing of the circumstances, made
+Florio a present of a handsome sum of money, over and above the expenses
+he had been put to in his journey from Moscow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEWIS'S RETIREMENT FROM THE STAGE.
+
+That celebrated comedian, the inimitable LEWIS, retired from the stage
+in May last, to devote the residue of his days to tranquil domestic
+enjoyment. His talents and prudence have enabled him to sit down with
+property sufficient for all the rational purposes of life. Since his
+retirement he made a transfer in the bank of five thousand pounds to
+each of his three daughters, and now, say the wits of London, many a
+Bassanio will doubtless say, their
+
+                                _Sunny_ locks
+  Hang on their temples like a golden fleece.
+
+It was on the night of his own benefit that Mr. Lewis took a formal and
+final farewell of the public, under circumstances so honourable to him
+as no actor, perhaps has ever been able to boast of. _During the
+thirty-six years he had been a player, he had never once fallen under
+the displeasure of his audience._ The play was "Rule a Wife and have a
+Wife," in which he performed THE COPPER CAPTAIN. After the comedy, when
+the curtain dropped, Mr. Lewis came forward and addressed the house in
+the following words:
+
+  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
+
+  "I have the honour of addressing you for the last time. This is the
+  close of my theatrical life; (loud cries of no! no!) and I really
+  feel so overcome by taking leave forever of my friends and patrons;
+  that might it not be deemed disrespectful or negligent I could wish
+  to decline it; (Loud applause, and a cry of go on! go on!) but it
+  is a duty which I owe, and I will attempt to pay it, conscious I
+  shall meet your indulgence; for when I remind you that I have been
+  thirty-six years in your service, and cannot recollect to have
+  fallen once under your displeasure, my dramatic death cannot be met
+  by me without the strongest emotions of regret and gratitude.
+
+  "I should offer my acknowledgments for innumerable acts of kindness
+  shown to my earliest days, and your yet kinder acceptance of, and
+  partiality shown to my latest efforts; all these I powerfully feel,
+  though I have not the words to express those feelings.----But while
+  this heart has a sensation it will beat with gratitude.
+
+  "Ladies and gentlemen, with the greatest respect, and, if you will
+  admit the word, the sincerest affection, I bid you farewell."
+
+During the delivery of this address, Mr. Lewis was evidently much
+affected. His voice faultered, and the tear started from his eye. The
+audience were also much affected at this parting scene, and took leave
+of their favourite with loud and universal acclamations. The house was
+crowded to excess.
+
+Thus (says the London writer) every hour is seen stealing from this
+stock of harmless pleasure, and our theatrical register serves only to
+record our losses. What can we put in balance against the death of
+Parsons, Suett, Palmer, and King, and the retirement of Mrs. Mattocks,
+Miss Pope, and Mr. Lewis?--Nothing. What is there in prospect?--the
+further loss of Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Jordan. These two stars of the
+first magnitude will also soon be missing in the theatrical hemisphere,
+and where is he who can say that he has discovered any promise that this
+light will, in our time, be repaired?--Nowhere.
+
+  "The greatest fires are out, and glimmering night succeeds."
+
+On his taking a final leave of the Dublin stage, Mr. Lewis spoke the
+following address:
+
+  From ten years old till now near fifty-six,
+  Of all I've gained, the _origin_ I fix
+  _Here on this fav'rite spot_; when first I came
+  A trembling candidate for scenic fame,
+  In numbers _lisping, here_ that course began
+  Which, through your early aid, has smoothly ran;
+  Here too, returning from your sister land,
+  Oft have I met your smile, your lib'ral hand:
+  Oft as I came Hibernia still has shown
+  That hospitality so much her own.
+  But _now_ the prompter, _Time_, with warning bell,
+  Reminds me that I come to bid farewell!
+  With usual joy this visit I should pay,
+  But _here_, adieu is very hard to say.
+  Yet take my thanks for thousand favours past--
+  My wishes that your welfare long may last--
+  My promise that, though Time upon this face
+  May make his annual marks, no time can chase
+  Your memory here, while memory here has place.
+  My meaning is sincere, though plainly spoke--
+  My heart, like yours, I hope, is heart of oak;
+  And that although the bark, through years, may fail ye,
+  The trunk was, is, and will be true shillaly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MAN AND WIFE.
+
+_The Comedy annexed to this number._
+
+The favourable reception which this comedy met in London, will no doubt
+induce the managers of America to produce it on their boards. For _this
+reason_ it has been selected by the editors.
+
+In the general reception of this comedy on the stage, the author has
+been more successful than in the judgment it has received from the
+press. Of the criticisms which have appeared in the London publications,
+we have seen two, which disagree with each other on its merits. That the
+reception by a large audience and the opinion of a critic should differ,
+is not at all surprising. In the present instance one of those critics
+is at complete variance with the audience, and says "it is as dull as
+the ministerial benches, and yet as patriotic as the opposition." The
+editors reserve their opinion till they see it acted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+The conductors thank "DRAMATICUS" for his communications, to which they
+will pay the proper attention. Though the series for the month of
+February is complete, they have made room for four of the articles with
+which he has favoured them.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies: The Mirror of Taste
+
+  Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error,
+  or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling.
+  Omitted closing quotation marks are as in the original text.
+  [oe] indicates an oe ligature.
+
+_Unchanged:_
+  chaunted  [chanted]
+  cotemporary/ies  [contemporary/ies]
+  descendent  [descendant]
+  devest  [divest]
+  monkies  [monkeys]
+  mystries  [mysteries]
+  pedler  [pedlar]
+  surprize  [surprise]
+  wo  [woe]
+  wonderous  [wondrous]
+  then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings,  [final comma is unclear]
+  assuage their wrath or heal the wound,  [comma is unclear]
+
+_Corrected:_
+  From the circumstances of her father's situation  [farther's]
+  Though the trepidation inseparable from such an effort  [inseperable]
+  Each secret image that my fancy formed  [Eech]
+  Quin decidedly gave judgment against her  [decidely]
+  is rather a paraphrase than a translation  [pharaphrase]
+  the season which succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival  [whith]
+  vainglory  [occurs with and without hyphenation]
+  signifying--roundly nothing  [signifyng]
+  the dog-star of favouritism  [favourite-ism]
+  don't  [occurs with and without apostrophe]
+  strength as to their vocal abilities  [abilites]
+  a wedding-party in that neighbourhood  [neigbourhood]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+  MAN AND WIFE;
+
+  OR,
+
+  MORE SECRETS THAN ONE:
+
+  A COMEDY.
+
+
+  By SAMUEL JAMES ARNOLD, Esq.
+
+
+  Published by Bradford and Inskeep, Philadelphia;
+  Inskeep and Bradford, New-York; and William
+  M'Ilhenny, Boston.
+
+  Smith and Maxwell, Printers.
+
+  1810.
+
+
+
+
+MAN AND WIFE;
+
+OR,
+
+MORE SECRETS THAN ONE.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+  Lord Austencourt.
+  Sir Rowland Austencourt.
+  Charles Austencourt.
+  Sir Willoughby Worret.
+  Falkner.
+  Abel Grouse.
+  Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus.
+  Ponder.
+  William.
+  Servant.
+  Countryman.
+  Sailor.
+  Game-Keeper.
+  Parish Officer.
+  Lady Worret.
+  Helen Worret.
+  Fanny.
+  Tiffany.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_Abel Grouse's cottage. Enter_ Abel Grouse _and_ Fanny.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Don't tell me of your sorrow and repentance girl. You've
+broke my heart. Married hey? and privately too--and to a lord into the
+bargain! So, when you can hide it no longer, you condescend to tell me.
+Think you that the wealth and title of lord Austencourt can silence the
+fears of a fond father's heart? Why should a lord marry a poor girl like
+you in private, if his intentions were honourable? Who should restrain
+him from publicly avowing his wife?
+
+_Fanny._ My dearest father, have but a little patience, and I'll explain
+all.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Who was present, besides the parson, at your wedding?
+
+_Fanny._ There was our neighbour, the attorney, sir, and one of his
+clerks, and they were all--
+
+_Ab. Gr._ My heart sinks within me--but mark me. You may remember I was
+not always what now I seem to be. I yesterday received intelligence
+which, but for this discovery, had shed a gleam of joy over my remaining
+days. As it is, should your husband prove the villain I suspect him,
+that intelligence will afford me an opportunity to resume a character in
+life which shall make this monster lord tremble. The wrongs of Abel
+Grouse, the poor but upright man, might have been pleaded in vain to
+him, but as I shall soon appear, it shall go hard but I will make the
+great man shrink before me, even in his plenitude of pride and power.
+
+_Fanny._ You terrify me, sir, indeed you do.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ And so I would. I would prepare you for the worst that may
+befal us: for should this man, this lord, who calls himself your
+husband--
+
+_Fanny._ Dearest father, what can you mean? Who _calls_ himself my
+husband! He _is_ my husband.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ If he _is_ your husband, how does he dare to pay his
+addresses, as he now publicly does, to the daughter of sir Willoughby
+Worret, our neighbour. I may be mistaken. I'm in the midst here of old
+acquaintances, though in this guise they know me not. They shall soon
+see me amongst them. Not a word of this, I charge you. Come girl, this
+lord shall own you. If he does not, we will seek a remedy in those laws
+which are at once the best guardians of our rights and the surest
+avengers of our wrongs. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_A parlour in_ sir W. Worret's _house. The breakfast
+prepared, urn, &c._ Sir Willoughby _reading the newspaper. He rises and
+rings the bell; then pulls out his watch._
+
+_Sir W._ Three quarters of an hour since breakfast was first announced
+to my wife. My patience is exhausted. Oh wedlock, wedlock! why did I
+ever venture again into thy holy state--of misery! Of all the taxes laid
+on mankind by respect to society and the influence of example, no one is
+so burthensome as that which obliges a man to submit to a thousand ills
+at home, rather than be suspected of being a bad husband abroad. (_enter
+servant_) Go to your lady.
+
+_Serv._ I told her ladyship five times before, sir Willoughby, that
+breakfast was waiting.
+
+_Sir W._ Then tell her once more, and that will make six, and say I
+earnestly request the favour she will hasten to breakfast, as while she
+stays I starve.
+
+_Serv._ Yes, sir Willoughby, but she'll stop the longer for the message.
+(_Aside going out._) [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ My wife is the very devil. It seems that she'd be miserable if
+she did not think me happy; yet her tenderness is my eternal torment;
+her affection puts me in a fidget, and her fondness in a fever.
+
+    _Enter servant._
+
+_Serv._ My lady says she wont detain you a moment, sir Willoughby.
+[_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ The old answer. Then she's so nervous. A nervous wife is worse
+than a perpetual blister; and then, as the man says in the play, your
+nervous patients are always ailing, but _never die_. Zounds! why do I
+bear it? 'tis my folly, my weakness, to dread the censure of the world,
+and to sacrifice every comfort of my fire side to the ideal advantage of
+being esteemed a _good husband_. (_Lady Worret is heard speaking
+behind_) Hark! now she begins her morning work, giving more orders in a
+minute than can be executed in a month, and teasing my daughter to death
+to teach her to keep her temper; yet every body congratulates me on
+having so good a wife; every body envies me so excellent an economist;
+every body thinks me the happiest man alive; and nobody knows what a
+miserable mortal I am.
+
+_Lady W._ (_behind_) And harkye, William, (_entering with servant_) tell
+the coachman to bring the chariot in a quarter of an hour: and William,
+run with these books immediately to the rector's; and William, bring up
+breakfast this moment.
+
+_Will._ Yes, my lady: (_aside_) Lord have mercy upon us! [_Exit._
+
+_Lady W._ My dear sir Willoughby, I beg a thousand pardons; but you are
+always so indulgent that you really spoil me. I'm sure you think me a
+tiresome creature.
+
+_Sir W._ No, no, my life, not at all. I should be very ungrateful if I
+didn't value you _just exactly as highly_ as you deserve.
+
+_Lady W._ I certainly _deserve_ a good scolding: I do indeed. I think if
+you scolded me a little I should behave better.
+
+_Sir W._ Well, then, as you encourage me, my love, I must own that a
+little more punctuality would greatly heighten the zest of your society.
+
+_Lady W._ And yet, sir Willoughby, you _must_ acknowledge that my time
+is ever dedicated to that proper vigilance which the superintendance of
+so large an establishment undoubtedly requires.
+
+_Sir W._ Why, true, my love; but somehow I can't help thinking, that, as
+my fortune is so ample, it is quite unnecessary that you should undergo
+so much fatigue: for instance, I _do_ think that the wife of a baronet
+of 12,000l. a year owes it to her rank to be otherwise employed than in
+hunting after the housemaid, or sacrificing her time in the storeroom in
+counting candles, or weighing out soap, starch, powder-blue, and brown
+sugar.
+
+_Lady W. (in tears)_ This is unkind, sir Willoughby, this is very
+unkind.
+
+_Sir W._ So! as usual, here's a breeze springing up. What the devil
+shall I say to sooth her? Wife, wife! you drive me mad. You first beg me
+to scold you, and then are offended because I obligingly comply with
+your request.
+
+_Lady W._ No, sir Willoughby, I am only _surprised_ that you should so
+little know the value of a wife who daily degrades herself for your
+advantage.
+
+_Sir W._ That's the very thing I complain of. You _do_ degrade yourself.
+Your economy, my life, is downright parsimony: your vigilance is
+suspicion; your management is meanness; and you fidget your servants
+till you make them fretful, and then prudently discharge them because
+they will live with you no longer. Hey! ods life, I must sooth her: for
+if company comes, and finds her in this humour, my dear-bought
+reputation as a good husband is lost forever. _(Enter servant with
+breakfast.)_ Come, come, my dear lady Worret, let us go to breakfast,
+come _(sitting down to breakfast)_ let us talk of something else. Come,
+take your tea.
+
+_Lady W. (to servant)_ Send William to speak to me. [_Exit servant._
+
+_Sir W._ Where's Helen?
+
+_Lady W._ I have desired her to copy a few articles into the family
+receipt book before breakfast; for as her marriage will so shortly take
+place, it is necessary she should complete her studies.
+
+_Sir W._ What, she's at work, I suppose, on the third folio volume.
+
+_Lady W._ The _fifth_, I believe.
+
+_Sir W._ Heaven defend us! I don't blame it; I don't censure it at all:
+but I believe the case is _rather_ unprecedented for an heiress of
+12,000l. a year to leave to posterity, in her own hand writing, five
+folio volumes of recipes, for pickling, preserving, potting, and pastry,
+for stewing and larding, making ketchup and sour krout, oyster patties,
+barbacued pies, jellies, jams, soups, sour sauce, and sweetmeats.
+
+_Lady W._ Oh, sir Willoughby! if young ladies of the present day paid
+more attention to such substantial acquirements, we should have better
+wives and better husbands.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that is singularly just.
+
+_Lady W._ Yes, if women were taught to find amusement in domestic
+duties, instead of seeking it at a circulating library, assemblies, and
+balls, we should hear of fewer appeals to Doctor's Commons and the court
+of King's Bench.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that is undeniably true _(aside)_ and now, as we have a
+moment uninterrupted by family affairs--
+
+    _Enter_ William.
+
+_Lady W._ Is the carriage come?
+
+_Will._ No, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ Have you carried the books?
+
+_Will._ No, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ Then go and hasten the coachman.
+
+_Will._ No, my lady--_yes_, my lady.
+
+_Lady W._ And William, send up Tiffany to Miss Helen's room, and bid her
+say we expect her at breakfast.
+
+_Will._ Miss Helen has been in the park these two hours.
+
+_Sir W. (Laughs aside.)_
+
+_Lady W._ How! in the park these two hours? Impossible. Send Tiffany to
+seek her.
+
+_Will._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ So, as usual, risen with the lark, I suppose.
+
+_Lady W._ Her disobedience will break my heart.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds! I shall go mad. Here's a mother-in-law going to break
+her heart, because my daughter prefers a walk in the morning to writing
+culinary secrets in a fat folio family receipt book!
+
+_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, sir Willoughby, it is you who encourage her in
+disregarding my orders.
+
+_Sir W._ No such thing, lady Worret, no such thing: but if the girl
+likes to bring home a pair of ruddy cheeks from a morning walk, I don't
+see why she is to be balked of her fancy.
+
+_Lady W._ Ruddy cheeks, indeed! Such robust health is becoming only in
+dairy maids.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, I know your taste to a T. A consumption is always a key to
+your tender heart; and an interesting pallid countenance will at any
+time unlock the door to your best affections: but I must be excused if I
+prefer seeing my daughter with the rosy glow of health upon her cheek,
+rather than the sickly imitations of art, which bloom on the surface
+alone, while the fruit withers and decays beneath--but zounds! don't
+speak so loud, here's somebody coming, and they'll think we are
+quarrelling. _(Helen sings behind)_ So here comes our madcap.
+
+    _Enter_ Helen.
+
+_Helen._ Good morning, good morning. Here, papa, look what a beautiful
+posy of wild flowers I have gathered. See, the dew is still upon them.
+How lovely they are! To my fancy, now, these uncultivated productions of
+nature have more charms than the whole garden can equal. Why can we not
+all be like these flowers, simple and inartificial, with the stamp of
+nature and truth upon us?
+
+_Lady W._ Romantic stuff! But how comes it, Miss Helen, that my orders
+are thus disobeyed?
+
+_Helen._ Why lord, mamma, I'll tell you how it was; but first I must eat
+my breakfast; so I'll sit down and tell you all about it. _(sits down.)_
+In the first place, I rose at six, and remembering I was to copy out the
+whole catalogue of sweetmeats, and as I hate all sweet things, (some
+sugar, if you please, papa) I determined to take one run round the park
+before I sat down to my morning's work: so taking a crust of bread and a
+glass of cold water, which I love better than (some tea, if you please,
+mamma) any thing in the world, out I flew like a lapwing; stopped at the
+dairy; and (some cream, if you please, papa) down to the meadows and
+gathered my nosegay; and then bounded home, with a heart full of gayety,
+and a rare appetite for--some roll and butter, if you please, mamma.
+
+_Lady W._ Daughter, this levity of character is unbecoming your sex, and
+even your age. You see none of this offensive flightiness in me.
+
+_Sir W._ Come, come, my dear lady Worret. Helen's gayety is natural.
+Helen, my love, I have charming news for you. Every thing is at last
+arranged between lord Austencourt and me respecting your marriage.
+
+_Helen._ Why now, if mamma-in-law had said this, I should have thought
+she meant to make me as grave as herself.
+
+_Lady W._ In expectation that Helen will behave as becomes her in this
+most important affair of her life, I consent to pass over her negligence
+this morning in regard to my favourite receipts.
+
+_Helen._ I hate all receipts, sweet, bitter, and sour.
+
+_Lady W._ Then we will now talk of a husband.
+
+_Helen._ I hate all husbands, sweet, bitter, and sour.
+
+_Sir W._ Whoo! Helen, my love, you should not contradict your mamma.
+
+_Helen._ My dear papa, I don't contradict her; but I will not marry lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_Lady W._ This is too much for my weak nerves. I leave you, sir
+Willoughby, to arrange this affair, while I hasten to attend to my
+domestic duties.
+
+_Sir W._ (_aside to lady W._) That's right; you'd better leave her to
+me. I'll manage her, I warrant. Let me assist you--there--I'll soon
+settle this business. (_Hands lady Worret off._)
+
+_Helen._ Now, my dear papa, are you really of the same opinion as her
+ladyship?
+
+_Sir W._ Exactly.
+
+_Helen._ Ha! ha! lud! but that's comical. What! both think alike?
+
+_Sir W._ Precisely.
+
+_Helen._ That's very odd. I believe it's the first time you've agreed in
+opinion since you were made one: but I'm quite sure you never can wish
+me to marry a man I do not love.
+
+_Sir W._ Why no, certainly not; but you _will_ love him; indeed you
+_must_. It's my wife's wish, you know, and so I wish it of course. Come,
+come, in this one trifling matter you must oblige us.
+
+_Helen._ Well, as _you_ think it only a trifling matter, and as I think
+it of importance enough to make me miserable, I'm sure _you'll_ give up
+the point.
+
+_Sir W._ Why no, you are mistaken. To be sure I _might_ have given it
+up; but my lady Worret, you know--but that's no matter. Marriage is a
+duty, and tis incumbent on parents to see their children settled in that
+_happy_ state.
+
+_Helen._ Have _you_ found that state _so happy_, sir?
+
+_Sir W._ Why--yes--that is--hey? happy! certainly. Doesn't every body
+say so? and what every body says _must_ be true. However, that's not to
+the purpose. A connexion with the family of lord Austencourt is
+particularly desirable.
+
+_Helen._ Not to _me_, I assure you, papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Our estates join so charmingly to one another.
+
+_Helen._ But sure that's no reason _we_ should be joined to one another.
+
+_Sir W._ But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage
+between you.
+
+_Helen._ Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me
+a separate maintenance.
+
+_Sir. W._ Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady
+Worret's wishes. Zounds! you don't see me disobedient to her wishes; but
+I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young
+fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has
+filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness.
+Thank Heaven, however, he's far enough off at sea.
+
+_Helen._ And _I_ think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles
+abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to those whom his courage
+enables to live in tranquillity at home.
+
+_Sir W._ That's very true: (_aside_) but I have an unanswerable
+objection to all you can say. Lord Austencourt is rich, and Charles is a
+beggar. Besides sir Rowland himself prefers lord Austencourt.
+
+_Helen._ More shame for him. His partial feelings to his nephew, and
+unnatural disregard of his son, have long since made me hate him. In
+short, you are for money, and choose lord Austencourt: I am for love,
+and prefer his poor cousin.
+
+_Sir W._ Then, once for all, as my lady Worret must be obeyed, I no
+longer consult you on the subject, and it only remains for you to retain
+the affection of an indulgent father, by complying with my will (I mean
+my wife's) or to abandon my protection. [_Exit._
+
+_Helen._ I won't marry him, papa, I won't, nor I won't cry, though I've
+a great mind. A plague of all money, say I. Oh! what a grievous
+misfortune it is to be born with 12,000l. a year? but if I can't marry
+the man I like, I won't marry at all; that's determined: and every body
+knows the firmness of a woman's resolution, when she resolves on
+contradiction. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--O'Dedimus's _office. Boxes round the shelves._ O'Dedimus
+_discovered writing at an office table. A few papers and parchments,
+&c._
+
+_O'Dedimus._ There! I think I've expressed my meaning quite plainly,
+(_reads_) "Farmer Flail, I'm instructed by lord Austencourt, your
+landlord, to inform you, by word of letter, that if you can't afford to
+pay the additional rent for your farm, you must turn out." I think
+that's clear enough. "As to your putting in the plea of a large family,
+we cannot allow that as a set off; because, when a man can't afford to
+support seven children with decency, he ought not to trouble himself to
+get them." I think that's plain English.
+
+    "Your humble servant,
+        "CORNELIUS O'DEDIMUS,
+            "Attorney at law.
+
+"P.S. You may show this letter to his lordship, to convince him I have
+done my duty; but as I don't mean one word of it, if you'll come to me
+privately, I'll see what can be done for you, without his knowing any
+thing of the matter," and I think _that's_ plain English.
+
+    _Enter_ gamekeeper _with a_ countryman _in custody._
+
+_O'Ded._ Well, friend, and what are you?
+
+_Countryman._ I be's a poacher: so my lord's gamekeeper here do say.
+
+_O'Ded._ A poacher! Faith that's honest.
+
+_Gamekeeper._ I caught him before day-light on the manor. I took away
+his gun and shot his dog.
+
+_O'Ded._ That was bravely done. So, you must pamper your long stomach
+with pheasants and partridges, and be damned to ye! Will you prefer
+paying five pounds now, or three month's hard labour in the house of
+correction?
+
+_Countrym._ Thank ye, sir, I don't prefer either, sir.
+
+_O'Ded._ You must go before the justice. He'll exhort you, and commit
+ye.
+
+_Countrym._ Ees, I do know that _extortion_ and _commission_, and such
+like, be the office of the justice; but I'll have a bit of law, please
+punch. He ha' killed my poor dog, that I loved like one o' my own
+children, and I've gotten six of 'em, Lord bless 'em.
+
+_O'Ded._ Six dogs!
+
+_Countrym._ Dogs! No, children, mun.
+
+_O'Ded._ Six children! Och, the fruitful sinner!
+
+_Countrym._ My wife be a pains-taking woman, sir. We ha' had this poor
+dog from a puppy.
+
+_O'Ded._ Shut your ugly mouth, you babbler.--Six children! Oh! we must
+make an example of this fellow. An't I the village lawyer? and an't I
+the terror of all the rogues of the parish? (_aside to him._) You must
+plead "not guilty."
+
+_Countrym._ But I tell you, if that be guilt, I _be_ guilty.
+
+_O'Ded._ Why, you blundering booby, if you plead guilty, how will I ever
+be able to prove you innocent?
+
+_Countrym._ Guilty or innocent, I'll have the law of him, by gum. He has
+shot my poor old mongrel, and taken away my musket; and I've lost my
+day's drilling, and I'll make him pay for it.
+
+_O'Ded._ A mongrel and a musket! by St. Patrick, Mr. Gamekeeper, and you
+have nately set your foot in it.
+
+_Gamekeeper._ Why, sir, its a bad affair, sir. 'Twas so dark, I couldn't
+see; and when I discovered my mistake, I offered him a shilling to make
+it up, and he refused it.
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside to gamekeeper._) Harkye, Mr. Gamekeeper; he has one
+action against ye for his dog, and another for false imprisonment.
+(_aloud_) I love to see the laws enforced with justice: (_aside_) but
+I'll always help a poor man to stand up against oppression. (_to
+gamekeeper_) He has got you on the hip, and so go out and settle it
+between yourselves, and do _you_ take care of yourself: (_to
+countryman_) and do _you_ make the best of your bargain. [_Exeunt._
+
+Parish officer _brings forward the_ sailor.
+
+_Officer._ Here's a vagrant. I found him begging without a pass.
+
+_O'Ded._ Take him before his worship directly. The sturdy rogue ought to
+be punished.
+
+_Sailor._ Please your honour, I'm a sailor.
+
+_O'Ded._ And if you're a sailor, an't you ashamed to own it? A begging
+sailor is a disgrace to an honourable profession, for which the country
+has provided an asylum as glorious as it is deserved.
+
+_Sailor._ Why so it has: but I an't bound for Greenwich yet.
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside to him._) Why, you're disabled, I see.
+
+_Sailor._ Disabled! What for? Why I've only lost _one_ arm yet. Bless
+ye, I'm no beggar. I was going to see my Nancy, thirty miles further on
+the road, and meeting some old messmates, we had a cann o' grog
+together. One cann brought on another, and then we got drinking the
+king's health, and the navy, and then _this_ admiral, and then _t'other_
+admiral, till at last we had so many gallant heroes to drink, that we
+were all drunk afore we came to the reckoning; so, your honour, as my
+messmates had none of the rhino, I paid all; and then, you know, they
+had a long journey upwards, and no biscuit aboard; so I lent one a
+little, and another a little, till at last I found I had no coin left in
+my locker for myself, except a cracked teaster that Nancy gave me; and I
+couldn't spend that, you know, though I had been starving.
+
+_O'Ded._ And so you begged!
+
+_Sailor._ Begged! no. I just axed for a bit of bread and a mug o' water.
+That's no more than one Christian ought to give another, and if you call
+that begging, why I beg to differ in opinion.
+
+_O'Ded._ According to the act you are a vagrant, and the justice may
+commit ye; (_aside to the officer_) lookye, Mr. Officer--you're in the
+wrong box here. Can't you see plain enough, by his having lost an arm,
+that he earns a livelihood by the work of his hands; so lest he should
+be riotous for being detained, let me advise you to be off. I'll send
+him off after you with a flea in his ear--the other way.
+
+_Officer._ Thank ye, sir, thank ye. I'm much obliged to you for your
+advice, sir, and shall take it, and so my service to you. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded._ Take this my honest lad; (_gives money_) say nothing about it,
+and give my service to Nancy.
+
+_Sailor._ Why now, heaven bless you honour forever; and if ever you're
+in distress, and I'm within sight of signals, why hang out your blue
+lights; and if I don't bear down to your assistance, may my gun be
+primed with damp powder the first time we fire a broadside at the enemy.
+[_Exit._
+
+O'Dedimus _rings a bell._
+
+_O'Ded._ Ponder! Now will this fellow be thinking and thinking, till he
+quite forgets what he's doing. Ponder, I say! (_enter Ponder._) Here,
+Ponder, take this letter to farmer Flail's, and if you see Mrs. Muddle,
+his neighbour, give my love and duty to her.
+
+_Ponder._ Yes, yes, sir; but at that moment, sir, I was immersed in
+thought, if I may be allowed the expression; I was thinking of the vast
+difference between love and law, and yet how neatly you've spliced them
+together in your last instructions to your humble servant, Peter Ponder,
+clerk.--Umph!
+
+_O'Ded._ Umph! is that your manners, you bear-garden? Will I never be
+able to larn you to behave yourself? Study _me_, and talk like a
+gentleman, and be damn'd to ye.
+
+_Ponder._ I study the law; I can't talk it.
+
+_O'Ded._ Cant you? Then you'll never do. If your tongue don't run faster
+than your client's, how will you ever be able to bother him, you booby?
+
+_Ponder._ I'll draw out his case; he shall read, and he'll bother
+himself.
+
+_O'Ded._ You've a notion. Mind my instructions, and I don't despair of
+seeing you at the bar one day. Was that copy of a writ sarved yesterday
+upon Garble, the tailor?
+
+_Ponder._ Aye.
+
+_O'Ded._ And sarve him right too. That's a big rogue, that runs in debt
+wid his eyes open, and though he has property, refuses to pay. Is he
+safe?
+
+_Ponder._ He was bailed by Swash the brewer.
+
+_O'Ded._ And was the other sarved on Shuttle, the weaver?
+
+_Ponder._ Aye.
+
+_O'Ded._ Who bailed him?
+
+_Ponder._ Nobody. He's gone to jail.
+
+_O'Ded._ Gone to jail! Why _his_ poverty is owing to misfortune. He
+can't pay. Well, that's not our affair. The law must have its course.
+
+_Ponder._ So Shuttle said to his wife, as she hung crying on his
+shoulder.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it; he's a sensible man; and that's more than his wife
+is. We've nothing to do with women's tears.
+
+_Ponder._ Not a bit. So they walked him off to jail in a jiffey, if I
+may be allowed the expression.
+
+_O'Ded._ To be sure, and that was right. They did their duty: though for
+sartin, if a poor man can't pay his debts when he's at liberty, he wont
+be much nearer the mark when he's shut up in idleness in a prison.
+
+_Ponder._ No.
+
+_O'Ded._ And when he that sent them there comes to make up his last
+account, 'tis my belief that he wont be able to show cause why a bill
+shouldn't be filed against him for barbarity. Are the writings all ready
+for sir Rowland?
+
+_Ponder._ All ready. Shall I now go to farmer Flail's with the letter?
+
+_O'Ded._ Aye, and if you see Shuttle's wife in your way, give my service
+to her; and d'ye hear, as you're a small talker, don't let the little
+you say be so cursed crabbed; and if a few kind words of comfort should
+find their way from your heart to your tongue, don't shut your ugly
+mouth, and keep them within your teeth. You may tell her that if she can
+find any body to stand up for her husband, I shan't be over nice about
+the sufficiency of the bail. Get you gone.
+
+_Ponder_ I shall. Let me see! farmer Flail--Mrs. Muddle, his
+neighbour--Shuttle's wife--and a whole string of messages and
+memorandums--here's business enough to bother the brains of any
+ordinary man! You are pleased to say, sir, that I am too much addicted
+to thinking--I think _not_. [_Exit Ponder._
+
+_O'Ded._ By my soul, if an attorney wasn't sometimes a bit of a rogue,
+he'd never be able to earn an honest livelihood. Oh Mr. O'Dedimus! why
+have you so little when your heart could distribute so much!
+
+    Sir Rowland, _without_.
+
+_Sir Row._ Mr. O'Dedimus--within there!
+
+_O'Ded._ Yes, I'm within there.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland.
+
+_Sir Row._ Where are these papers? I thought the law's delay was only
+felt by those who could not pay for its expedition.
+
+_O'Ded._ The law, sir Rowland, is a good horse, and his pace is slow and
+sure; but he goes no faster because you goad him with a golden spur; but
+every thing is prepared, sir; and now, sir Rowland, I have an ugly sort
+of an awkward affair to mention to you.
+
+_Sir Row._ Does it concern _me_?
+
+_O'Ded._ You know, sir Rowland, at the death of my worthy friend, the
+late lord Austencourt, you were left sole executor and guardian to his
+son, the present lord, then an infant of three years of age.
+
+_Sir Row._ What does this lead to? (_starting_)
+
+_O'Ded._ With a disinterested view to benefit the estate of the minor,
+who came of age the other day, you some time ago embarked a capital of
+14,000l. in a great undertaking.
+
+_Sir Row._ Proceed.
+
+_O'Ded._ I have this morning received a letter from the agent, stating
+the whole concern to have failed, the partners to be bankrupts, and the
+property consigned to assignees not to promise, as a final dividend,
+more than one shilling in the pound. This letter will explain the rest.
+
+_Sir Row._ How! I was not prepared for this--What's to be done?
+
+_O'Ded._ When one loses a sum of money that isn't one's own, there's but
+one thing to be done.
+
+_Sir Row._ And what is that?
+
+_O'Ded._ To pay it back again.
+
+_Sir Row._ You know that to be impossible, utterly impossible.
+
+_O'Ded._ Then, sir Rowland, take the word of _Cornelius O'Dedimus_,
+attorney at law, his lordship will rigidly exact the money, to the
+uttermost farthing.
+
+_Sir Row._ You are fond, sir, of throwing out these hints to his
+disadvantage.
+
+_O'Ded._ I am bold to speak it--I am possessed of a secret, sir Rowland,
+in regard to his lordship.
+
+_Sir Row._ (_alarmed._) What is it you mean?
+
+_O'Ded._ I thought I told you it was a _secret_.
+
+_Sir Row._ But to me you should have no secrets that regard my family.
+
+_O'Ded._ With submission, sir Rowland, his lordship is my client, as
+well as yourself, and I have learned from the practice of the courts,
+that an attorney who blabs in his business has soon no suit to his back.
+
+_Sir Row._ But this affair, perhaps, involves my deepest interest--my
+character--my all is at stake.
+
+_O'Ded._ Have done wid your pumping now--d'ye think I am a basket full
+of cinders, that I'm to be sifted after this fashion?
+
+_Sir Row._ Answer but this--does it relate to Charles, my son?
+
+_O'Ded._ Sartinly, the young gentleman has a small bit of interest in
+the question.
+
+_Sir Row._ One thing more. Does it allude to a transaction which
+happened some years ago--am I a principal concerned in it?
+
+_O'Ded._ Devil a ha'porth--it happened only six months past.
+
+_Sir R._ Enough--I breathe again.
+
+_O'Ded._ I'm glad of that, for may-be you'll now let me breathe to tell
+you that as I know lord Austencourt's private character better than you
+do, my life to a bundle of parchment, he'll even arrest ye for the
+money.
+
+_Sir R._ Impossible, he cannot be such a villain!
+
+_Abel Grouse._ (_without_) What ho! is the lawyer within?
+
+_Sir Row._ Who interrupts us?
+
+_O'Ded._ 'Tis the strange man that lives on the common--his name is Abel
+Grouse--he's coming up.
+
+_Sir R._ I'll wait till you dismiss him, for I cannot encounter any one
+at present. Misfortunes crowd upon me; and one act of guilt has drawn
+the vengeance of Heaven on my head, and will pursue me to the grave.
+[_Exit to an inner room._
+
+_O'Ded._ Och! if a small gale of adversity blows up such a storm as
+this, we shall have a pretty hurricane by and by, when you larn a little
+more of your hopeful nephew, and see his new matrimonial scheme fall to
+the ground, like buttermilk through a sieve.
+
+    _Enter_ Abel Grouse.
+
+_Abel Grouse._ Now, sir, you are jackall, as I take it, to lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_O'Ded._ I am his man of business, sure enough; but didn't hear before
+of my promotion to the office you mention.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ You are possessed of all his secret deeds.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's a small mistake--I have but one of them, and that's the
+deed of settlement on Miss Helen Worret, spinster.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Leave your quibbling, sir, and speak plump to the point--if
+habit hasn't hardened your heart, and given a system to your knavery,
+answer me this: lord Austencourt has privately married my daughter?
+
+_O'Ded._ Hush!
+
+_Ab. Gr._ You were a witness.
+
+_O'Ded._ Has any body told you that thing?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Will you deny it?
+
+_O'Ded._ Will you take a friend's advice?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ I didn't come for advice. I came to know if you will confess
+the fact, or whether you are villain enough to conceal it.
+
+_O'Ded._ Have done wid your bawling--sir Rowland's in the next room!
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Is he? then sir Rowland shall hear me--Sir Rowland!--he shall
+see my daughter righted--Ho there! Sir Rowland!
+
+_O'Ded._ (_aside_) Here'll be a devil of a dust kicked up presently
+about the ears of Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law!
+
+    _Enter_ Sir Rowland.
+
+_Sir Row._ Who calls me?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ 'Twas I!
+
+_Sir Row._ What is it you want, friend?
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Justice!
+
+_Sir Row._ Justice! then you had better apply there, (_pointing to
+O'Dedimus._)
+
+_Ab. Gr._ That's a mistake--he deals only in _law_--'tis to you that I
+appeal--Your nephew, lord Austencourt, is about to marry the daughter of
+sir Willoughby Worret.
+
+_Sir Row._ He is.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Never! I will save him the guilt of that crime at least!
+
+_Sir Row._ You are mysterious, sir.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Perhaps I am. Briefly, your nephew is privately married to my
+daughter--this man was present at their union--will you see justice done
+me, and make him honourably proclaim his wife?
+
+_Sir Row._ Your tale is incredible, sir--it is sufficient, however, to
+demand attention, and I warn you, lest by your folly you rouse an
+indignation that may crush you.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Hear me, proud man, while I warn _you_! My daughter is the
+lawful wife of lord Austencourt--double is the wo to me that she _is_
+his wife: but as it is so, he shall publicly acknowledge her--to you I
+look for justice and redress--see to it, sir, or I shall speedily appear
+in a new character, with my wrongs in my hand, to hurl destruction on
+you. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir Row._ What does the fellow mean?
+
+_O'Ded._ That's just what I'm thinking--
+
+_Sir Row._ _You_, he said, was privy to their marriage.
+
+_O'Ded._ Bless ye, the man's mad!
+
+_Sir Row._ Ha! you said you had a secret respecting my nephew.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, if you go on so, you'll bother me!
+
+_Sir Row._ The fellow must be silenced--can you not contrive some means
+to rid us of his insolence?
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, I shall do my duty, as my duty should be done, by
+Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.
+
+_Sir Row._ My nephew must not hear of this accursed loss--be secret on
+that head, I charge you! but in regard to this man's bold assertion, I
+must consult him instantly--haste and follow me to his house.
+
+_O'Ded._ Take me wid ye, sir; for this is such a dirty business, that
+I'll never be able to go through it unless you show me the way.
+[_Exeunt._
+
+_End of act I._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_A library at_ Sir Willoughby's. _Enter_ Helen _with_ Servant.
+
+_Helen._ Lord Austencourt--true--this is his hour for persecuting
+me--very well, desire lord Austencourt to come in. (_exit servant_) I
+won't marry. They all say I shall. Some girls, now, would sit down and
+sigh, and moan, as if that would mend the matter--that will never suit
+me! Some indeed would run away with the man they liked better--but then
+the only man I ever liked well enough to marry--is--I believe, run away
+from _me_. Well! that won't do!--so I'll e'en laugh it off as well as I
+can; and though I wont marry his lordship, I'll teaze him as heartily as
+if I had been his wife these twenty years.
+
+    _Enter_ lord Austencourt.
+
+_Lord A._ Helen! too lovely Helen! once more behold before you to
+supplicate for your love and pity, the man whom the world calls proud,
+but whom your beauty alone has humbled.
+
+_Helen._ They say, my lord, that pride always has a fall some time or
+other. I hope the fall of your lordship's hasn't hurt you.
+
+_Lord A._ Is it possible that the amiable Helen, so famed for gentleness
+and goodness, can see the victim of her charms thus dejected stand
+before her.
+
+_Helen._ Certainly not, my lord--so pray sit down.
+
+_Lord A._ Will you never be for one moment serious?
+
+_Helen._ Oh, yes, my lord! I am never otherwise when _I think_ of your
+lordship's proposals--but when you are making love and fine speeches to
+me in person, 'tis with amazing difficulty I can help laughing.
+
+_Lord A._ Insolent vixin. (_aside_) I had indulged a hope, madam, that
+the generosity and disinterested love I have evinced--
+
+_Helen._ Why as to your lordship's generosity in condescending to marry
+a poor solitary spinster, I am certainly most duly grateful--and no one
+can possibly doubt your disinterestedness, who knows I am only heiress
+to 12,000l. a year--a fortune which, as I take it, nearly doubles the
+whole of your lordship's rent roll!
+
+_Lord A._ Really, madam, if I am suspected of any mercenary motives, the
+liberal settlements which are now ready for your perusal, must
+immediately remove any such suspicion.
+
+_Helen._ Oh, my lord, you certainly mistake me--only as my papa
+observes, our estates _do join so charmingly to one another_!
+
+_Lord A._ Yes:--that circumstance is certainly advantageous to both
+parties (_exultingly._)
+
+_Helen._ Certainly!--only, as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours would
+be the greatest gainer by the bargain.
+
+_Lord A._ My dear madam, a title and the advantages of elevation in rank
+amply compensate the sacrifice on your part.
+
+_Helen._ Why, as to a title, my lord (as Mr. O'Dedimus, your attorney,
+observes) there's no title in my mind better than a good title to a fine
+estate--and I see plainly, that although your lordship is a peer of the
+realm--you think this title of mine no mean companion for your own.
+
+_Lord A._ Nay, madam--believe me--I protest--I assure you--solemnly,
+that those considerations have very little--indeed _no_ influence _at
+all_ with me.
+
+_Helen._ Oh, no!--only it is natural that you should feel (as papa again
+observes) that the _contiguity_ of these estates seem to _invite_ a
+union by a marriage between us.
+
+_Lord A._ And if you admit that fact, why do you decline the invitation?
+
+_Helen._ Why, one doesn't accept _every_ invitation that's offered, you
+know--one sometimes has very disagreeable ones; and then one presents
+compliments, and is extremely sorry that a prior engagement obliges us
+to decline the honour.
+
+_Lord A._ (_aside_) Confound the satirical huzzy--But should not the
+wishes of your parents have some weight in the scale?
+
+_Helen._ Why, so they have; _their_ wishes are in one scale, and _mine_
+are in the other; do all I can, I can't make mine weigh most, and so the
+beam remains balanced.
+
+_Lord A._ I should be sorry to make theirs preponderate, by calling in
+their authority as auxiliaries to their wishes.
+
+_Helen._ Authority!--Ho! what, you think to marry me by force! do ye my
+lord?
+
+_Lord A._ _They_ are resolute, and if _you_ continue obstinate--
+
+_Helen._ I dare say your lordship's education hasn't precluded your
+knowledge of a very true, though _rather_ vulgar proverb, "one man may
+lead a horse to the water, but twenty can't make him drink."
+
+_Lord A._ The allusion may be classical, madam, though certainly it is
+not very elegant, nor has it even the advantage of being applicable to
+the point in question. However I do not despair to see this resolution
+changed. In the mean time, I did not think it in your nature to treat
+any man who loves you with cruelty and scorn.
+
+_Helen._ Then why don't you desist, my lord? If you'd take an answer,
+you had a civil one: but if you will follow and teaze one, like a sturdy
+beggar in the street, you must expect at last a reproof for your
+impertinence.
+
+_Lord A._ Yet even in their case perseverance often obtains what was
+denied to poverty.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, possibly, from the feeble or the vain; but genuine
+Charity, and her sister, Love, act only from their own generous impulse,
+and scorn intimidation.
+
+    _Enter_ Tiffany.
+
+_Tiffany._ Are you alone, madam?
+
+_Helen._ No; I was only wishing to be so.
+
+_Tiff._ A young woman is without, inquiring for sir Willoughby, ma'am; I
+thought he had been here.
+
+_Helen._ Do you know her?
+
+_Tiff._ Yes, ma'am; 'tis Fanny, the daughter of the odd man that lives
+on the common.
+
+_Helen._ I'll see her myself--desire her to walk up. [_Exit Tiffany._
+
+_Lord A._ (_seems uneasy_) Indeed! what brings her here?
+
+_Helen._ Why, what can be the matter now? your lordship seems quite
+melancholy on a sudden.
+
+_Lord A._ I, madam! oh no!--or if I am--'tis merely a head ach, or some
+such cause, or perhaps owing to the influence of the weather.
+
+_Helen._ Your lordship is a very susceptible barometer--when you entered
+this room your countenance was _set fair_; but now I see the index
+points to _stormy_.
+
+_Lord A._ Madam, you have company, or business--a good morning to you.
+
+_Helen._ Stay, stay, my lord.
+
+_Lord A._ Excuse me at present, I have an important affair--another
+time.
+
+_Helen._ Surely, my lord, the arrival of this innocent girl does not
+drive you away!
+
+_Lord A._ Bless me, madam, what an idea! certainly not; but I have just
+recollected an engagement of consequence--some other time--Madam, your
+most obedient-- [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ Fanny.
+
+_Fan._ I beg pardon, madam, I'm fearful I intrude; but I inquired for
+sir Willoughby, and they showed me to this room. I wished to speak with
+him on particular business--your servant, madam.
+
+_Hel._ Pray stay, my good girl--I rejoice in this opportunity of
+becoming acquainted with you--the character I have heard of you has
+excited an affectionate interest--you must allow me to become your
+friend.
+
+_Fanny._ Indeed, indeed, madam, I am in want of friends; but you can
+never be one of them.
+
+_Helen._ No! Why so?
+
+_Fan._ You, madam! Oh no--you are the only enemy I ever had.
+
+_Hel._ Enemy! This is very extraordinary! I have scarce ever seen you
+before--Assuredly I never injured you.
+
+_Fan._ Heaven forbid I should wish any one to injure you as deeply.
+
+_Hel._ I cannot understand you--pray explain yourself.
+
+_Fan._ That's impossible, madam--my lord would never forgive me.
+
+_Hel._ Your lord! Let me entreat you to explain your meaning.
+
+_Fan._ I cannot, madam; I came hither on business of importance, and no
+trifling business should have brought me to a house inhabited by one who
+is the cause of all my wretchedness.
+
+_Hel._ This is a very extraordinary affair! There is a mixture of
+cultivation and simplicity in your manner that affects me strongly--I
+see, my poor girl, you are distressed; and though what you have said
+leaves on my mind a painful suspicion--
+
+_Fan._ Oh heavens, madam! stay, I beseech you!--I am not what you think
+me, indeed I am not--I must not, for a moment, let you think of me so
+injuriously: yet I have promised secrecy! but sure no promise can be
+binding, when to keep it we must sacrifice all that is valuable in
+life--hear me, then madam--the struggle is violent; but I owe it to
+myself to acknowledge all.
+
+_Hel._ No, no, my dear girl! I now see what it would cost you to reveal
+your secret, and I will not listen to it; rest assured, I have no longer
+a thought to your disadvantage: curiosity gives place to interest: for
+though 'tis cruelty to inflict a wound, 'tis still more deliberate
+barbarity to probe when we cannot hope to heal it. (_going._)
+
+_Fan._ Stay, madam, stay--your generosity overpowers me! oh madam! you
+know not how wretched I am.
+
+_Hel._ What is it affects you thus?--come, if your story is of a nature
+that may be revealed, you are sure of sympathy.
+
+_Fan._ I never should have doubted; but my father has alarmed me
+sadly--he says my lord Austencourt is certainly on the point of marriage
+with you.
+
+_Hel._ And how, my dear girl, if it were so, could that affect you?
+Come, you must be explicit.
+
+_Fan._ Affect me! merciful Heaven! can I see him wed another? He is my
+husband by every tie sacred and human.
+
+_Hel._ Suffering, but too credulous girl! have you then trusted to his
+vows?
+
+_Fan._ How, madam! was I to blame, loving as I did, to trust in vows so
+solemn? could I suppose he would dare to break them, because our
+marriage was performed in secret?
+
+_Hel._ Your marriage, child! Good Heavens, you amaze me! but here we may
+be interrupted--this way with me. If this indeed be so all may be well
+again: for though he may be dead to _feeling_ be assured he is alive to
+_fear_: the man who once descends to be a villain is generally observed
+to be at heart a coward. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The door of a country inn._--Ponder _sitting on a
+portmanteau._
+
+_Ponder._ I've heard that intense thinking has driven some philosophers
+mad!--now if this should happen to _me_, 'twill never be the fate of my
+young patron, Mr. Charles Austencourt, whom I have suddenly met on his
+sudden return from sea, and who never thinks at all. Poor gentleman, he
+little thinks what--
+
+    _Enter_ Charles Austencourt.
+
+_Charles._ Not gone yet? How comes it you are not on the road to my
+father? Is the fellow deaf or dumb. Ponder! are ye asleep?
+
+_Pon._ I'm thinking, whether I am or not.
+
+_Charles._ And what wise scheme now occupies your thoughts?
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I confess the subject is beneath me (_pointing to the
+portmanteau._)
+
+_Char._ The weight of the portmanteau, I suppose, alarms you.
+
+_Pon._ If that was my heaviest misfortune, sir, I could carry double
+with all my heart. No, sir, I was thinking that as your father, sir
+Rowland, sent you on a cruize, for some cause best known to himself; and
+as you have thought proper to return for some cause best known to
+_yourself_, the chances of war, if I may be allowed the expression, are,
+that the contents of that trunk will be your only inheritance, or, in
+other words, that your father will cut you off with a shilling--and now
+I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ No doubt--thinking takes up so many of your waking hours, that
+you seldom find time for _doing_. And so you have, since my departure,
+turned your thinking faculties to the law.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; when you gave me notice to quit, I found it so hard to
+live honestly, that lest the law should take to me, I took to the law:
+and so articled my self to Mr. O'Dedimus, the attorney in our town: but
+there is a thought unconnected with law that has occupied my head every
+moment since we met.
+
+_Char._ Pr'ythee dismiss your thought, and get your legs in motion.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, I have really been thinking, ever since I saw you,
+that you are a little--(_going off to a distance_) a little _odd_
+hereabouts, sir; (_pointing to his head_) a little damned mad, if I may
+be allowed the expression!
+
+_Char._ Ha! ha! very probably. My sudden return, without a motive, as
+you suppose, has put that wise notion in your head.
+
+_Pon._ Without a motive! No, sir, I believe I know tolerably well the
+motive--the old story, sir, ha! love!
+
+_Char._ Love! And pray, sirrah, how do you dare to presume to suppose,
+that I--that I can be guilty of such a folly--I should be glad to know
+how you dare venture to think that I----
+
+_Pon._ Lord bless you, sir, I discovered it before you left the country.
+
+_Char._ Indeed! and by what symptoms, pray?
+
+_Pon._ The old symptoms, sir--in the first place, frequent fits of my
+complaint.
+
+_Char._ _Your_ complaint?
+
+_Pon._ Yes, thinking, long reveries, sudden starts, sentimental sighs,
+fits of unobserving absence, fidgets and fevers, orders and counter
+orders, loss of memory, loss of appetite, loss of rest, and loss of your
+senses, if I may be allowed the expression.
+
+_Char._ No, sir, you may not be allowed the expression--'tis
+impertinent, 'tis false. I never was unobserving or absent; I never had
+the fidgets; I never once mentioned the name of my adored Helen; and,
+heigho! I never sighed for her in my life!
+
+_Pon._ Nor I, sir; though I've been married these three years, I never
+once sighed for my dear wife in all that time--heigho!
+
+_Char._ I mustn't be angry with the fellow. Why, I took you for an
+unobserving blockhead, or I would never have trusted you so near me.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, you _mis_-took me. I fancy it was in one of your most
+decided unobserving fits that you took _me_ for a blockhead.
+
+_Char._ Well, sir; I see you have discovered my secret. Act wisely, and
+it may be of service to you.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I haven't studied the law for nothing. I'm no fool, if I may
+be allowed the expression.
+
+_Char._ I begin to suspect you have penetration enough to be useful to
+me.
+
+_Pon._ And craving your pardon, sir, I begin to suspect your want of
+that faculty, from your not having found out that before.
+
+_Char._ I will now trust you, although once my servant, with the state
+of my heart.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, that's very kind of you, to trust your humble servant with a
+_secret_ he had himself discovered ten months ago.
+
+_Char._ Keep it with honour and prudence.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, I _have_ kept it. Nobody knows of it, that I know of, except
+a few of your friends, many of your enemies, most travelling strangers,
+and all your neighbours.
+
+_Char._ Why, zounds! you don't mean to say that any body, except
+yourself, suspects me to be in love.
+
+_Pon._ Suspects! no, sir; _suspicion_ is out of the question; it is
+taken as a proved fact in all society, a bill found by every grand jury
+in the county.
+
+_Char._ The devil it is! Zounds! I shall never be able to show my
+face--this will never do--my boasted disdain of ever bowing to the power
+of love--how ridiculous will it now render me--while the mystery and
+sacred secrecy of this attachment constituted the chief delight it gave
+to the refinement of my feelings--O! I'll off to sea again--I won't stay
+here--order a post-chaise--no--yes--a chaise and four, d'ye hear?
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; but I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ What?
+
+_Pon._ That it is possible you may alter your mind.
+
+_Char._ No such thing, sir; I'll set off this moment; order the chaise,
+I say.
+
+_Pon._ Think of it again, sir.
+
+_Char._ Will you obey my orders, or not?
+
+_Pon._ I think I will. (_aside_) Poor gentleman! now could I blow him up
+into a blaze in a minute, by telling him that his mistress is just on
+the point of marriage with his cousin, but though they say "ill news
+travels apace," they shall never say that I rode postillion on the
+occasion. [_Exit into inn._
+
+_Char._ Here's a discovery! all my delicate management destroyed! known
+all over the country! I'm off! and yet to have travelled so far, and not
+to have one glimpse of her! but then to be pointed at as a poor devil in
+love, a silly inconsistent boaster! no, that wont do--but then I may see
+her--yes, I'll see her once--just once--for three minutes, or three
+minutes and a half at most--no longer positively--Ponder, Ponder!
+(_enter Ponder_) Ponder, I say--
+
+_Pon._ I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, for I'm thinking--
+
+_Char._ Damn your thinking, sir!
+
+_Pon._ I was only thinking that you may have altered your mind already.
+
+_Char._ I have not altered my mind: but since I _am_ here, I should be
+wanting in duty not to pay my respects to my father; so march on with
+the trunk, sir.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir: but if that's all you want to do, sir, you may spare
+yourself the trouble of going further, for, most fortunately, here he
+comes; and your noble cousin, lord Austencourt, with him--
+
+_Char._ The devil!
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir; the devil, and his uncle, your father, if I may be
+allowed the expression. [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ lord Austencourt.
+
+_Char._ My dear father, I am heartily glad to see you--
+
+_Sir R._ How is this, Charles! returned thus unexpectedly?
+
+_Char._ Unexpected pleasure, they say, sir, is always most welcome--I
+hope you find it so.
+
+_Sir R._ This conduct, youngster, requires explanation.
+
+_Char._ Sir, I have it ready at my tongue's end--My lord, I ask your
+pardon--I'm glad to see you too.
+
+_Lord A._ I wish, sir, I could return the compliment; but this
+extraordinary conduct--
+
+_Char._ No apologies, my lord, for your civil speech--you might easily
+have returned the compliment in the same words, and, believe me, with as
+much sincerity as it was offered.
+
+_Sir R._ This is no time for dissention, sir--
+
+_Lord A._ My cousin forgets, sir Rowland, that although united by ties
+of consanguinity, _birth_ and _fortune_ have placed me in a station
+which commands some respect.
+
+_Char._ No, my lord, for I also am in a station where I _too_ command
+respect, where I respect and am respected. I therefore well know what is
+due to my superiors; and this duty I never forget, till those above me
+forget what they owe to themselves.
+
+_Lord A._ I am not aware, good cousin, that I have ever yet forfeited my
+title to the respect I claim.
+
+_Char._ You have, my lord: for high rank forfeits every claim to
+distinction when it exacts submissive humility from those beneath it,
+while at the same time it refuses a graceful condescension in exchange.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, Charles, these sentiments but ill become the dependent
+state in which Fortune has placed you.
+
+_Char._ Dependent state! Dependent upon whom! What, on _him_! my titled,
+tawdry cousin there? What are his pretensions, that he shall presume to
+brand me as a poor dependent!--What are _his_ claims to independence?
+How does he spend the income Fortune has allotted to him? Does he
+rejoice to revive in the mansion of his ancestors the spirit of old
+English hospitality? Do the eyes of aged tenants twinkle with joy when
+they hope his coming? do the poor bless his arrival? I say no. He is the
+lord of land--and is also, what he seems still more proud of, a lord of
+parliament; but I will front him in both capacities, and frankly tell
+him, that in the first he is a burthen to his own estate, and not a
+benefactor; and in the second, a peer but not a prop.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, how dare you thus persevere! You cannot deny, rash and
+foolish boy, that you are in a dependant state. Your very profession
+proves it.
+
+_Char._ O, father, spare that insult! The profession I glory to belong
+to, is above dependence--yes! while we live and fight, we feel, and
+gratefully acknowledge, that our pay depends on our king and country,
+and therefore you _may_ style us dependant; but in the hour of battle we
+wish for nothing more than to show that the glory and safety of the
+nation _depends on us_; and by our death or blood to repay all previous
+obligation.
+
+_Sir R._ Dismiss this subject.
+
+_Char._ With all my heart--My cousin was the subject, and he's a
+fatiguing one.
+
+_Sir R._ Though you do not love your cousin, you ought to pay that
+deference to his rank which you refuse to his person.
+
+_Char._ Sir, I do; like a fine mansion in the hands of a bad inhabitant.
+I admire the building, but despise the tenant.
+
+_Lord A._ This insolence is intolerable, and will not be forgotten. You
+may find, hot sir, that Where my friendship is despised, my resentment
+may be feared. I well know the latent motives for this insult. It is the
+language of a losing gamester, and is treated with deserved contempt by
+a _successful rival_. [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Ha! a _successful rival_! Is this possible?
+
+_Sir. R._ It is. The treaty of marriage between lord Austencourt and
+Helen is this morning concluded.
+
+_Char._ And does she consent?
+
+_Sir R._ There can be little doubt of that.
+
+_Char._ But _little_ doubt! False Helen! Come, come, I know my Helen
+better.
+
+_Sir R._ I repeat my words, sir. It is not the curse of every parent to
+have a disobedient child.
+
+_Char._ By Heaven, sir, that reflection cuts me to the heart. You have
+ever found in me the obedience, nay more, the affection of a son, till
+circumstance on circumstance convinced me, I no longer possessed the
+affection of a father.
+
+_Sir R._ Charles, we are too warm. I feel that I have in some degree
+merited your severe reproof--give me your hand, and to convince you that
+you undervalue my feelings towards you, I will now confess that I have
+been employed during your absence, in planning an arrangement which will
+place you above the malice of fortune--you know our neighbour, Mrs.
+Richland--
+
+_Char._ What, the gay widow with a fat jointure? What of her?
+
+_Sir R._ She will make not only a rich, but a good wife. I know she
+likes you--I'm sure of it.
+
+_Char._ Likes _me_!
+
+_Sir R._ I am convinced she does.
+
+_Char._ But--what the devil--she doesn't mean to marry me surely!
+
+_Sir R._ That will, I am convinced, depend upon yourself.
+
+_Char._ Will it? then by the Lord, though I sincerely esteem her, I
+shall make my bow, and decline the honour at once. No, sir; the heart is
+_my_ aim, and all the gold I care for in the hand that gives it, is the
+modest ring that encompasses the finger, and marks that hand as mine
+forever.
+
+_Sir R._ Thus I see another of my prospects blighted! Undutiful,
+degenerate boy! your folly and obstinacy will punish themselves. Answer
+me not; think of the proposal I have made you; obey your father's will,
+or forever I renounce you! [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Whoo! here's a whirligig! I've drifted on to a pleasant lee
+shore here! Helen betrothed to another! Impossible.--Oh Helen! Helen!
+Zounds! I'm going to make a soliloquy! this will never do! no, I'll see
+Helen; upbraid her falsehood; drop one tear to her memory; regain my
+frigate; seek the enemy; fight like a true sailor; die like a Briton;
+and leave my character and memory to my friends--and my blessing and
+forgiveness to Helen. [_Exit._
+
+_End of act II._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_O'Dedimus's office. Ponder discovered._
+
+_Ponder._ So! having executed my commission, let me _think_ a little
+(_sits down,_) for certain I and my master are two precious rogues
+(_pauses._) I wonder whether or not we shall be discovered, as
+assistants in this sham marriage (_pauses._) If we _are_, we shall be
+either transported or hanged, I wonder which:--My lord's bribe, however,
+was convenient; and in all cases of _conscience versus convenience_,
+'tis the general rule of practice to nonsuit the plaintiff. Ha! who's
+here? The poor girl herself. (_Enter Fanny._) I pity her; but I've been
+bribed; so I must be honest.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, sir! I'm in sad distress--my father has discovered my
+intercourse with lord Austencourt, and says, he is sure my lord means to
+deny our marriage; but I have told him, as you and your master were
+present, I am sure you will both be ready to prove it, should my lord
+act so basely.
+
+_Pon._ I must mind my hits here, or shall get myself into a confounded
+scrape--ready to do what, did you say, ma'am, to prove your marriage?
+
+_Fan._ Yes, as you both were present.
+
+_Pon._ Present! me! Lord bless me, what is it you mean? Marriage! prove!
+me! present!
+
+_Fan._ Why do you hesitate? come, come, you do but jest with me--you
+cannot have forgotten it--
+
+_Pon._ Hey? why no! but I can't say I remember it--
+
+_Fan._ Sure, sure, you cannot have the barbarity to deny that you were a
+witness to the ceremony!
+
+_Pon._ I may be mistaken--I've a remarkably short memory; but to the
+best of my recollection I certainly--
+
+_Fan._ Ay, you recollect it--
+
+_Pon._ I certainly _never was_ present--
+
+_Fan._ Cruel! you were--indeed, indeed you were.
+
+_Pon._ But at one wedding in my life.
+
+_Fan._ And that was mine--
+
+_Pon._ No, that was mine.
+
+_Fan._ Merciful Heaven! I see my fate--it is disgrace and misery!
+
+_Pon._ Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can't--however I'll
+speak to my master about it, and if _he_ recollects it I dare say _I_
+shall.
+
+_Fan._ I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is
+decided.
+
+_Pon._ Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what
+they are thinking of--they're coming this way. _I_ think we had better
+retire.
+
+_Fan._ O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from
+scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him--
+
+_Pon._ You can't escape that way, so you must come this. They wont think
+of coming here. (_puts her into another room_) Poor girl! I've a great
+mind to confess the whole affair. What shall I get by that? Nothing!
+nothing! Oh! that's contrary to law! [_Exit.
+
+    Enter_ lord Austencourt _and_ O'Dedimus.
+
+_Lord A._ Are you certain no one can overhear us?
+
+_O'Ded._ There's nobody can hear us except my ould housekeeper, and
+she's as deaf as St. Dunstan's clock-strikers.
+
+_Lord A._ There is no time to be lost. You must immediately repair to
+Fanny--tell her my affection is unabated--tell her I shall ever love
+her, and make her such pecuniary offers, as shall convince her of my
+esteem and affection; but we must meet no more. (_Fanny utters a cry
+behind._)
+
+_O'Ded._ What's that?
+
+_Lord A._ We are betrayed!
+
+_O'Ded._ Och! 'tis only my ould housekeeper.
+
+_Lord A._ Your housekeeper! I thought you told me she was deaf.
+
+_O'Ded._ Yes; but she isn't dumb. Devil a word can she _hear_ for
+sartin; but she's apt to _say_ a great many, and so we may proceed.
+
+_Lord A._ You will easily accomplish this business with Fanny.
+
+_O'Ded._ I'm afraid not. To tell you the truth, my lord, I don't like
+the job.
+
+_Lord A._ Indeed! and why, sir?
+
+_O'Ded._ Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes
+brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I'm more
+apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that
+will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself,
+my lord.
+
+_Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find
+some one less delicate.
+
+_O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may
+not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself.
+
+_Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will
+be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing
+him--money, I suppose, is his object.
+
+_O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from
+working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately
+tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take
+shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty.
+
+_Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your
+purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is
+ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by
+money he must be removed.
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the
+feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a
+false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence!
+
+_Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him
+(_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet,
+he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it!
+a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy
+kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with
+grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I
+will love, forgive, will pray for you--
+
+_Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to
+surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness.
+
+_O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery
+to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.
+
+_Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to
+shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery!
+
+_Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you!
+
+_Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I
+fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked
+men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in
+dreadful evidence against you! 'Tis Heaven itself! 'tis there your vows
+were heard! 'tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered!
+then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and
+retreat! reflect that we are married!
+
+_Lord A._ I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again.
+
+_Fanny._ Do not command me from you; I see your heart is softened by my
+tears; cherish the stranger Pity in your breast; 'tis noble, excellent!
+Such pity in itself is virtue! Oh, cherish it, my lord! nor let the
+selfish feelings of the world step in to smother it! Now! now, while it
+glows unstifled in your heart! now, ere it dies, to be revived no more,
+at once proclaim the triumph of your virtue, and receive into your arms
+a fond and an acknowledged wife!
+
+_Lord A._ Ha! impossible! Urge me no more! I cannot, will not hear
+you--My heart has ever been your own, my _hand must_ be another's; still
+we may love each other; still we may sometimes meet.
+
+_Fanny_ (_after a struggle._) I understand you! No, sir! Since it must
+be, we will meet no more! I know that there are laws; but to these laws
+I disdain to fly! Mine is an injury that cannot be redressed; for the
+only mortal witnesses to our union you have suborned: the laws,
+therefore, cannot do me justice, and I will never, inhuman as you are, I
+will never seek them for revenge. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded_ (_aside._) I'm thinking, that if I was a lord, I should act in a
+clean _contrary_ way; by the powers now, that man has got what I call a
+tough constitution; his heart's made of stone like a brick wall--Oh!
+that a man should have the power of a man, and not know how to behave
+like a man!
+
+_Lord A._ What's to be done? speak, advise me!
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it: have you made up your mind already, that you ask me
+to advise you?
+
+_Lord A._ I know not how to act.
+
+_O'Ded._ When a man's in doubt whether he should act as an honest man or
+a rogue, there are two or three small reasons for choosing the right
+side.
+
+_Lord A._ What is't you mean, sir?
+
+_O'Ded._ I mean this thing--that as I suppose you're in doubt whether to
+persecute the poor souls, or to marry the sweet girl in right earnest.
+
+_Lord A._ Marry her! I have no such thoughts--idiot!
+
+_O'Ded._ Idiot! That's no proof of your lordship's wisdom to come and
+ask advice of one.--Idiot, by St. Patrick! an idiot's a fool, and that's
+a Christian name was never sprinkled upon Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney
+at law!
+
+_Lord A._ I can feel for the unfortunate girl as well as you; but the
+idea of marrying her is too ridiculous.
+
+_O'Ded._ The unfortunate girl never knew misfortune till she knew you,
+my lord; and I heartily wish your lordship may never look more
+ridiculous than you would do in performing an act of justice and mercy.
+
+_Lord A._ You presume strangely, sir, on my confidence and
+condescension!
+
+_O'Ded._ What! are you coming over me now with the pride of your
+condescension. _That_ for your condescension! When a great man, my lord,
+does me the honour to confide in me, he'll find me trusty and
+respectful; but when he condescends to make me an agent and a partner in
+his iniquity, by your leave from that moment there's an end of
+distinction between us.
+
+_Lord A._ There's no enduring this! Scoundrel!
+
+_O'Ded._ Scoundrel! ditto, my lord, ditto! If I'm a scoundrel, it was
+you that made me one, and by St. Patrick, there's a brace of us.
+
+_Lord A._ (_aside_) The fellow has me in his power at present--you see
+me irritated, and you ought to bear with me--let us think of this no
+more. The father and daughter must both be provided for out of that
+money which sir Rowland still holds in trust for me.
+
+_O'Ded._ And if you depend upon that money to silence the old man, you
+might as well think to stop a mouse-hole with toasted cheese.
+
+_Lord A._ Pray explain, sir.
+
+_O'Ded._ Devil a penny of it is there left. Sir Rowland ventured it in a
+speculation, and all is lost--Oh! blister my tongue, I've let out the
+secret, sure enough!
+
+_Lord A._ Indeed! and what right had sir Rowland to risk my property? Be
+assured I will exact every guinea of it.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's just what I told him. Sir, says I, his lordship is one
+of the flinty-hearted ones, and devil a thirteener will he forgive
+you--but, my lord, it will utterly ruin sir Rowland to replace it.
+
+_Lord A._ Sir Rowland should have thought of that before he embarked my
+property in a hazardous enterprise. Inform him, sir, from me that I
+expect an instant account of it.
+
+_O'Ded._ I shall do that thing, sir: but please to reflect a little--the
+money so laid out was honestly intended for your advantage.
+
+_Lord A._ Another word sir, and I shall think it necessary to employ
+another attorney.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir, that's a quietus--I've done--only remember that if you
+proceed to extremities, I warrant you'll repent it.
+
+_Lord A._ _You_ warrant--
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and a warrant of attorney is reckoned decent good
+security.
+
+_Lord A._ Since my uncle has so far forgotten his duty as a guardian, I
+have now an opportunity, which I shall not neglect, to bring him to a
+proper recollection--you have nothing to do but to obey my orders; and
+these are that the fourteen thousand pounds, of which he has defrauded
+my estate, shall be immediately repaid. Look to it, sir, and to the
+other affair you are entrusted with, and see that the law neglects no
+measures to recover what is due to me. [_Exit._
+
+_O'Ded._ And by St. Patrick, if the law gives you what is due to you,
+that's what I'm too polite to mention. You've had your swing in iniquity
+long enough, and such swings are very apt to end in one that's much too
+exalted for my notions. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_an apartment at_ sir Willoughby's.--_Enter_ sir Willoughby,
+_and_ William _meeting him, the latter delivers a letter._
+
+_Will._ The gentleman desired me to say he is below, sir.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! (_reads_) "My dear Worret, I hope that a long absence from
+my native land has not obliterated the recollection of our friendship. I
+have thought it right to adopt this method of announcing my return, lest
+my too sudden appearance should hurt _your_ feelings, by deranging the
+_delicate nerves_ of your _amiable lady_" Hey!
+
+    "Ever yours,
+        "FREDERICK FALKNER."
+
+Bless my soul! Falkner alive? show the gentleman up.
+
+_Will._ He's here, sir.
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner.
+
+_Falk._ My old friend, I rejoice to see you.
+
+_Sir W._ Friend Falkner, I shan't attempt to say how welcome your return
+is. We all thought you dead and buried. Where have you been all these
+years?
+
+_Falk._ A wanderer. Let that suffice.
+
+_Sir W._ I see you still retain your old antipathy to answering
+questions, so I shall ask none--Have you been in France, or among the
+savages? Hey! I remember you had a daughter at school--is she alive? is
+she merry or miserable? Is she married?
+
+_Falk._ Zounds what a medley! France and savages! marriage and misery!
+
+_Sir W._ Ods life, I'm happy to see you! I haven't been so cheerful or
+happy for many a day.
+
+_Falk._ How's your wife?
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! thank ye, sir! why that excellent good woman is in high
+health, in astonishing health! by my troth I speak it with unspeakable
+joy, I think she's a better life now than she was when I married her!
+(_in a melancholy tone._)
+
+_Falk._ That must be a source of _vast comfort_ to you. I don't wonder
+at your being so cheerful and happy.
+
+_Sir W._ True--but it isn't _that_--that is, not altogether so: no, 'tis
+that I once more hold my friend Falkner by the hand, and that my
+daughter--you remember your little favourite Helen--
+
+_Falkner._ I do indeed!
+
+_Sir W._ You are arrived at a critical moment: I mean shortly to marry
+her--
+
+_Falkner._ I forbid the banns!
+
+_Sir W._ The devil you do!
+
+_Falkner._ Pshaw! (_aside_) my feelings o'erstep my discretion. Take
+care what you're about--If you're an honest man, you'd rather see her
+dead than married to a villain.
+
+_Sir W._ To be sure I would; but the man I mean her to marry--
+
+_Falkner._ Perhaps will never be her husband.
+
+_Sir W._ The devil he wont! why not?
+
+_Falkner._ Talk of something else--you know I was always an eccentric
+being--
+
+_Sir W._ What the devil does he mean? yes, yes you was always eccentric;
+but do you know--
+
+_Falkner._ I know more than I wish to know; I've lived long enough in
+the world to know that roguery fattens on the same soil where honesty
+starves; and I care little whether time adds to information which opens
+to me more and more the depravity of human nature.
+
+_Sir W._ Why, Falkner, you are grown more a misanthrope than ever.
+
+_Falkner._ You know well enough I have had my vexations in life; in an
+early stage of it I married--
+
+_Sir W._ Every man has his trials!
+
+_Falkner._ About two years afterwards I lost my wife.
+
+_Sir W._ That was a heavy misfortune! however you bore it with
+fortitude.
+
+_Falkner._ I bore it easily; my wife was a woman without feelings: she
+had not energy for great virtue, and she had no vice, because she had no
+passion: life with her was a state of stagnation.
+
+_Sir W._ How different are the fates of men!
+
+_Falkner._ In the next instance, I had a friend whom I would have
+trusted with my life--with more--my honour--I need not tell you then I
+thought him the first of human beings; but I was mistaken--he understood
+my character no better than I knew his: he confided to me a transaction
+which proved him to be a villain, and I commanded him never to see me
+more.
+
+_Sir W._ Bless me! what was that transaction?
+
+_Falkner._ It was a secret, and has remained so. Though I should have
+liked to hang the fellow, he had trusted me, and no living creature but
+himself and me at this day is possessed of it.
+
+_Sir W._ Strange indeed; and what became of him.
+
+_Falkner._ I have not seen him since, but I shall see him in a few
+hours.
+
+_Sir W._ Indeed, is he in this neighbourhood?
+
+_Falkner._ That circumstance of my friend, and a loss in the West
+Indies, which shook the fabric of my fortune to its foundation, drove me
+from the world--I am now returned to it with better prospects--my
+property, which I then thought lost, is doubled--circumstances have
+called me hither on an important errand, and before we are four and
+twenty hours older, you may see some changes which will make you doubt
+your own senses for the remainder of your days--
+
+_Sir W._ You astonish me mightily.
+
+_Falkner._ Yes, you stare as if you were astonished: but why do I stay
+chattering here? I must be gone.
+
+_Sir. W._ Nay, pr'ythee now--
+
+_Falkner._ Pshaw! I have paid my first visit to you, because you are the
+first in my esteem: don't weaken it by awkward and unseasonable
+ceremony--I must now about the business that brings me here: no
+interruption, if you wish to see me again let me have my own way, and I
+may, perhaps, be back in half an hour.
+
+_Sir W._ But I want to tell you that--
+
+_Falkner._ I know--I know--you want to prove to me that you are the
+least talker, and the best husband in the county: but both secrets must
+keep till my return, when I shall be happy to congratulate you--and so
+farewell-- [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ Bless my soul! what can he mean? 'I forbid the banns'--'lost my
+wife'--'horrid transaction'--'back again in half an hour'--dear
+me--John--Thomas! lady Worret! Helen! [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A room in_ sir Willoughby's _house_--Helen _and_ Charles
+_meeting_--Helen _screams--they run towards each other, as if to
+embrace_--Charles _stops suddenly._
+
+_Helen._ Charles! is it _you_, or is it your _spirit_?
+
+_Char._ 'Tis I, madam, and you'll find I have brought my spirit with me.
+
+_Helen._ Hey! why what the deuce ails the man?
+
+_Char._ My presence here, no doubt astonishes you.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir, your presence _does_ astonish me, but your manner
+still more.
+
+_Char._ I understand you--you would still keep a poor devil in your
+toils, though in his absence you have been sporting with _nobler_ game.
+
+_Helen._ My good friend, will you descend from your heroical stilts, and
+explain your meaning in plain English?
+
+_Char._ There needs no explanation of my conduct--call it caprice--say,
+if you please, that _I_ am _altered_--say _I have changed my mind_, and
+love another better--
+
+_Helen._ Indeed! and is it come to this! he shall not see he mortifies
+me, however--(_aside_) Since you are in this mind, sir, I wish you had
+been pleased to signify the same by letter, sir--
+
+_Char._ By letter?
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir,--for this personal visit being rather unexpected,
+does not promise to be particularly pleasant--
+
+_Char._ I believe so, madam--you did not calculate, I fancy, on this
+_sudden_ return.
+
+_Helen._ No, indeed, sir--and should have shown all Christian patience
+if this _sudden_ return hadn't happened these _twelve months_.
+
+_Char._ The devil you would! madam!--but I'll be cool--I'll cut her to
+the heart with a razor of ice--I'll congeal her with indifference--you
+must know, madam--
+
+_Helen._ Bless me, Charles, how very strangely you look--you're pale and
+red, and red and pale, in the same moment! why you can scarcely breathe!
+and now you tremble so! I'm afraid you are very ill.
+
+_Char._ Sarcastic!
+
+_Helen._ You move all over like a ship in a storm!
+
+_Char._ Vastly well, madam--and now--
+
+_Helen._ Your teeth chatter!--
+
+_Char._ Fire and fagots, madam, I _will_ speak!
+
+_Helen._ Do, dear Charles, while your are able--your voice will be gone
+in a minute or two, and then--
+
+_Char._ I will be heard! (_bawling_)
+
+_Helen._ That you will, indeed, and all over the house, too.
+
+_Char._ Madam, will you hear me or not?
+
+_Helen._ I am glad to find there's no affection of the lungs!
+
+_Char._ Death and torments! may I be allowed to speak--yes, or no?
+
+_Helen._ Yes, but gently; and make haste before they call the watch.
+
+_Char._ Madam, madam--I wish to keep my temper--I wish to be cool.
+
+_Helen._ Perhaps this will answer the purpose (_Fanning him_).
+
+_Char._ (_In confusion, after a pause, aside_) Is she laughing at me
+now, or trying to wheedle me into a good humour? I feel, Miss Worret,
+that I am expressing myself with too much warmth--I must therefore
+inform you, that being ordered home with despatches, and having some
+leisure time on my hands on my return, I thought it but proper as I
+passed the house to call at your door--just to say--a--a--just civilly
+to say--false! cruel! perfidious girl! you may break the tough heart of
+a sailor, but damn me if he will ever own it broke for love of you!
+
+_Helen._ On my honour, sir, I do not understand what all this means.
+
+_Char._ You don't?
+
+_Helen._ No, sir--if your purpose here is insult, you might, methinks,
+have found some fitter object than one who has so limited a power to
+resent it! [_Going._
+
+_Char._ Stay, madam, stay--what a face is there! a smile upon it too:
+oh, Helen, spare those smiles! they once could wake my soul to ecstasy!
+but now they rouse it into madness: save them, madam, for a happier
+lover--save them for lord Austencourt.
+
+_Helen._ Charles, Charles, you have been deceived: but come, sit down
+and hear me.
+
+_Char._ I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience
+which the subject demands.
+
+_Helen._ As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my
+father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all
+other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and
+fortune--
+
+_Char._ (_Rising in anger_) Spare yourself the trouble of further
+explanation, madam; I see the whole at once--you are now going to tell
+me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the
+canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy
+frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the
+frequented shrine of avarice and ambition!
+
+_Helen._ (_Rising also_) When I am next inclined to descend to
+explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me.
+[_Going._
+
+_Char._ A moment, madam! The whole explanation lies in a word--has not
+your father concluded a treaty of marriage between you and lord
+Austencourt?
+
+_Helen._ He _has_--
+
+_Char._ There--'tis enough! you have confessed it--
+
+_Helen._ (_Stifling her tears_) Confessed what? you monster! I've
+confessed nothing.
+
+_Char._ Haven't you acknowledged that you are to be the wife of another?
+
+_Helen._ No.
+
+_Char._ No! won't you consent then?
+
+_Helen._ Half an hour ago nothing on earth should have induced me to
+consent--but since I see, Charles, of what your temper is capable, I
+shall think it more laudable to risk my happiness by obedience to my
+father, than by an ill-judged constancy to one who seems so little
+inclined to deserve it. [_Exit._
+
+_Char._ Hey! where am I! zounds, I see my whole error at once! Oh,
+Helen, Helen--for mercy's sake one moment more!--She's gone--and has
+left me in anger! but I will see her again, and obtain her
+forgiveness--fool, idiot, dolt, ass, that I am, to suffer my cursed
+temper to master reason and affection at the risk of losing the dearest
+blessing of life--a lovely and an amiable woman! [_Exit._
+
+_End of Act III._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I.--O'Dedimus's _office--Enter_ Charles _pulling in_ Ponder _by
+the collar._
+
+_Char._ This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if
+you expect mercy at my hands.
+
+_Pon._ I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for
+you've already handled me most unmercifully--(_Charles shakes him_) what
+would you please to have me confess, sir?
+
+_Char._ I have seen old Abel Grouse--he has told me the story of his
+daughter's marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah,
+confess the truth--were you present, or were you not? out with it
+(_shakes him_).
+
+_Pon._ Now pray recollect yourself--do, sir--think a little.
+
+_Char._ Recollect myself?
+
+_Pon._ Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you'll give _me_
+time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken
+out of my pericranium.
+
+_Char._ No equivocation, answer directly, or though you're no longer my
+servant, by heavens I'll--
+
+_Pon._ Sir--for heaven's sake!--you'll shake nothing more out of me,
+depend on't--if you'll be pleased to pause a moment, I'll think of an
+answer.
+
+_Charles._ It requires no recollection to say whether you were a
+witness--
+
+_Pon._ No indeed, sir, ask my master if I was; besides if I had been, my
+conscience wouldn't let me disclose it.
+
+_Charles._ Your conscience! good, and you're articled to an attorney!
+
+_Pon._ True, sir, but there's a deal of conscience in our office; if my
+master knew I betrayed his secrets even to you, I believe (in
+conscience,) he'd hang me if he could.
+
+_Charles._ If my old friend O'Dedimus proves a rogue at last, I shan't
+wonder that you have followed his example.
+
+_Pon._ No, sir, for I always follow my master's example, even though it
+should be in the path of roguery; compliment apart sir, I always
+followed yours.
+
+_Charles._ Puppy, you trifle with my patience.
+
+_Pon._ No indeed, sir, I never play with edg'd tools.
+
+_Charles._ You wont acknowledge it then.
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir, I'll acknowledge the truth, but I scorn a lie.
+
+_Charles._ 'Tis true I always thought you honest. I have ever trusted
+you, Ponder, even as a friend: I do not believe you capable of deceiving
+me.
+
+_Pon._ Sir, (_gulping_) I can't swallow that! it choaks me (_falling on
+his knees_); forgive me, dear master that _was_; your threats I could
+withstand, your violence I could bear, but your kindness and good
+opinion there is no resisting; promise you wont betray me.
+
+_Charles._ So; now it comes. I do.
+
+_Pon._ Then, sir, the whole truth shall out, they _are_ married, sir,
+and they are _not_ married, sir.
+
+_Charles._ Enigma too!
+
+_Pon._ Yes, sir, they are married, but the priest was ordained by my
+master, and the license was of his own granting, and so they are not
+married, and now the enigma's explained.
+
+_Charles._ Your master then is a villain!
+
+_Pon._ I don't know, sir, that puzzles me: but he's such an honest
+follow I can hardly think him a rogue--though I fancy, sir, between
+ourselves, he's like the rest of the world, half and half, or like
+punch, sir, a mixture of opposites.
+
+_Charles._ So! villany has been thriving in my absence. If you feel the
+attachment you profess why did you not confide this to me before?
+
+_Pon._ Sir, truth to speak, I did not tell you, because, knowing the
+natural gentleness of your disposition, which I have so often admired, I
+was alarmed, lest the sudden shock should cause one of those irascible
+fits, which I have so often witnessed, and produce some of those shakes
+and buffets, which to my unspeakable astonishment, I have so often
+experienced.
+
+_Charles._ And which, I can tell you, you have now so narrowly escaped.
+
+_Pon._ True sir, I have escaped as narrowly as a felon who gets his
+reprieve five minutes _after_ execution.
+
+_Charles._ Something must be done. I am involved in a quarrel with Helen
+too! curse on my irritable temper.
+
+_Pon._ So I say, sir--try and mend it; pray do.
+
+_Charles._ I am resolved to have another interview with her;--to throw
+myself at her feet, and sue for pardon! Though fate should oppose our
+union, I may still preserve her from the arms of a villain, who is
+capable of deceiving the innocent he could not seduce: and of planting a
+dagger in the female heart, where nature has bestowed her softest
+attributes, and has only left it _weak_, that man might cherish,
+shelter, and protect it. [_Exit._
+
+_Pon._ So! now I'm a rogue both ways--If I escape punishment one way, I
+shall certainly meet it the other. But if my good luck saves me both
+ways I shall never more credit a fortune-teller: for one once predicted,
+that I was born to be hanged. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Sir Rowland's._
+
+    _Enter_ Sir Rowland _and_ O'Dedimus.
+
+_Sir R._ You have betrayed me then!--Did not I caution you to keep
+secret from my nephew this accursed loss.
+
+_O'Ded._ And so you did sure enough, but somehow it slipt out before I
+said a word about it; but I told him it was a secret, and I dare say he
+wont mention it.
+
+_Sir R._ But you say, that he demands the immediate liquidation.
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and has given me orders to proceed against you.
+
+_Sir R._ Is it possible! in a moment could I arrest his impious
+progress; but I will probe him to the quick, did he threaten me, say
+you?--There is however one way to save _him_ from this public avowal of
+his baseness, and _me_ from his intended persecution--a marriage between
+Charles and Mrs. Richland.
+
+_O'Ded._ The widow's as rich as the Wicklow mines!
+
+_Sir R._ The boy refuses to comply with my wishes; we may find means,
+however, to compel him.
+
+_O'Ded._ He's a sailor; and gentlemen of his kidney are generally pretty
+tough when they take a notion in their heads.
+
+_Sir R._ I am resolved to carry my point. I have reason to believe you
+advanced him a sum of money.
+
+_O'Ded._ I did that thing--he's a brave fellow; I'd do that thing again.
+
+_Sir R._ You did wrong, sir, to encourage a young spendthrift in
+disobedience to his father.
+
+_O'Ded._ I did right, sir, to assist the son of a client and the nephew
+of a benefactor, especially when his father hadn't the civility to do
+it.
+
+_Sir R._ Mr. O'Dedimus, you grow impertinent.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I grow old; and 'tis one privilege of age to grow
+blunt. I advanced your son a sum of money, because I esteemed him. I
+tack'd no usurious obligation to the bond he gave me, and I never came
+to ask you for security.
+
+_Sir R._ You _have_ his bond then--
+
+_O'Ded._ I have, sir; his bond and judgment for two hundred pounds.
+
+_Sir R._ It is enough: then you can indeed assist my views,--the dread
+of confinement will, no doubt, alter his resolution: you must enter up
+judgment, and proceed on your bond.
+
+_O'Ded._ If I proceed upon my bond, it will be very much against my
+judgment.
+
+_Sir R._ In order to alarm him, you must arrest him immediately.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I wish to treat you with respect--but when without
+a blush on your cheek you ask me to make myself a rascal, I must either
+be a scoundrel ready-made to your hands, for respecting you, or a damn'd
+hypocrite for pretending to do it--I see you are angry, sir, and I can't
+help that; and so, having delivered my message, for fear I should say
+any thing uncivil or ungenteel, I wish you a most beautiful good
+morning. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Then I have but one way left--my fatal secret must be publicly
+revealed--oh horror! ruin irretrievable is preferable--never--never--that
+secret shall die with _me_--(_Enter Falkner_) as 'tis probably
+already buried in the grave with Falkner.
+
+_Falk._ 'Tis false--'tis buried only in his heart!
+
+_Sir R._ Falkner!
+
+_Falk._ 'Tis eighteen years since last we met. You have not, I find,
+forgotten the theme on which we parted.
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, no! my heart's reproaches never would allow me! Oh
+Falkner--I and the world for many years have thought you numbered with
+the dead.
+
+_Falk._ To the world I was so--I have returned to it to do an act of
+justice.
+
+_Sir R._ Will you then betray me?
+
+_Falk._ During eighteen years, sir, I have been the depositary of a
+secret, which, if it does not actually affect your life, affects what
+should be dearer than life, your honor. If, in the moment that your
+ill-judged confidence avowed you as the man you are, and robbed me of
+that friendship which I held sacred as my being--If in that bitter
+moment I concealed my knowledge of your guilt from an imperious
+principle of honor, it is not likely, that the years which time has
+added to my life, should have taught me perfidy--your secret still is
+safe.
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, Falkner--you have snatched a load of misery from my heart;
+I breathe, I live again.
+
+_Falk._ Your exultation flows from a polluted source--I return to the
+world to seek you, to warm and to expostulate; I come to urge you to
+brave the infamy you have deserved; to court disgrace as the punishment
+you merit: briefly to avow your guilty secret.
+
+_Sir R._ Name it not for mercy's sake! It is impossible! How shall I
+sustain the world's contempt, its scorn, revilings and reproaches?
+
+_Falk._ Can he, who has sustained so long the reproaches of his
+conscience, fear the world's revilings?--Oh, Austencourt! Once you had a
+heart.
+
+_Sir R._ Sir, it is callous now to every thing but shame; when it lost
+_you_, its dearest only friend, its noblest feelings were extinguished:
+my crime has been my punishment, for it has brought on me nothing but
+remorse and misery: still is my fame untainted by the world, and I will
+never court its contumely.
+
+_Falk._ You are determined--
+
+_Sir R._ I am!
+
+_Falk._ Have you no fear from me?
+
+_Sir R._ None! You have renewed your promise, and I am safe.
+
+_Falk._ Nothing then remains for me but to return to that obscurity from
+whence I have emerged--had I found you barely leaning to the side of
+virtue, I had arguments to urge that might have fixed a wavering
+purpose; but I find you resolute, hardened and determined in guilt, and
+I leave you to your fate.
+
+_Sir R._ Stay, Falkner, there is a meaning in your words.
+
+_Falk._ A dreadful precipice lies before you: be wary how you tread!
+there is a being injured by your----by lord Austencourt, see that he
+makes her reparation by an immediate marriage--look first to that.
+
+_Sir R._ To such a degradation could _I_ forget my noble ancestry, _he_
+never will consent.
+
+_Falk._ Look next to yourself: he is not a half villain, and it is not
+the ties of consanguinity will save you from a jail. Beware how you
+proceed with Charles--you see I am acquainted with more than you
+suspected; look to it, sir; for the day is not yet passed that by
+restoring you to virtue, may restore to you a friend; or should you
+persevere in guilty silence, that may draw down unexpected vengeance on
+your head-- [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Mysterious man! a moment stay! I cannot live in this dreadful
+uncertainty! whatever is my fate, it shall be decided quickly. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_An apartment at sir Willoughby's; a door in the flat.
+Enter_ Helen _and_ Charles.
+
+_Helen._ I tell you, it is unless to follow me, sir. The proud spirit
+you evinced this morning, might have saved you methinks from this
+meanness of solicitation.
+
+_Charles._ Surely now a frank acknowledgment of error deserves a milder
+epithet than meanness.
+
+_Helen._ As you seem equally disposed, sir, to quarrel with my words, as
+you are to question my conduct, I fear you will have little cause to
+congratulate yourself on this _forced_ and _tiresome_ interview.
+
+_Charles._ _Forced_ interview! Did ever woman so consider the anxiety of
+a lover to seek explanation and forgiveness! Helen, Helen, you torture
+me; is this generous?--is it like yourself? surely if you lov'd me--
+
+_Helen._ Charles--I do love you--that, is, I _did_ love you, but--I
+don't love you, but (_aside_) ah! now I'm going to make bad worse.
+
+_Charles._ But _what_, Helen?
+
+_Helen._ The violence of temper you have discovered this morning, has
+shown me the dark side of your character; it has given a pause to
+affection, and afforded me time to reflect--now though I do really and
+truly believe that--you--love me Charles.
+
+_Sir W._ (_behind_) I must see my daughter directly--where is she!
+
+    _Enter_ Tiffany _running._
+
+_Tiffany._ Ma'am, ma'am, your father's coming up stairs, with a letter
+in his hand, muttering something about Mr. Charles; as sure as life
+you'll be discovered.
+
+_Helen._ For heav'n's sake hide yourself; I would not have him find you
+here for worlds--here, step into the music-room.
+
+_Charles._ Promise me first your forgiveness.
+
+_Helen._ Charles, retire, I entreat you--make haste, he is here.
+
+_Charles._ On my knees--
+
+_Helen._ Then kneel in the next room.
+
+_Charles._ Give me but your hand.
+
+_Helen._ That is now at my own disposal--I beseech you go--(_Charles
+just gains the door when enter sir Willoughby with a letter in his hand,
+and Lady Worret._)
+
+_Sir W._ Gadzooks! Here's a discovery!
+
+_Helen._ A discovery, sir? (_Helen looks at the door_)
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, a discovery indeed!--Ods life! I'm in a furious passion!
+
+_Helen._ Dear sir, not with me I hope--
+
+_Lady W._ Let me entreat you sir Willoughby to compose yourself;
+recollect that anger is very apt to bring on the gout.
+
+_Sir W._ Damn the gout, I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye,
+daughter--
+
+_Helen._ They know he's here! so I may as well own it at once.
+
+_Lady W._ Pray compose yourself, remember we have no _proof_.
+
+_Sir W._ Why that's true--that is remarkably true--I must compose
+myself--I _will_--I _do_--I _am_ composed--and now let me open the
+affair with coolness and deliberation! Daughter, come hither.
+
+_Helen._ Yes, sir--now for it!--
+
+_Sir W._ Daughter, you are in general, a very good, dutiful, and
+obedient child--
+
+_Helen._ I know it, papa--and was from a child, and I always will be.
+
+_Lady W._ Allow me, sir Willoughby--you are in general, child, a very
+headstrong, disobedient, and undutiful daughter.
+
+_Helen._ I know it, mamma--and was from a child, and always will be.
+
+_Lady W._ How, madam!--Remember, sir Willoughby--there is a proper
+medium between too violent a severity, and too gentle a lenity.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds, madam, in your own curs'd economy there is no
+medium--but don't bawl so, or we shall be overheard.
+
+_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, you are very ill I'm sure; but I must now
+attend to this business, daughter, we have heard that Charles--
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret, my love, let _me_ speak--you know, child, it is
+the duty of an _obedient_ daughter, to _obey_ her parents.
+
+_Helen._ I know it, papa, and when I _obey you_, I am _generally
+obedient_.
+
+_Lady W._ In short, child, I say again, we learn that Charles----
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret, lady Worret, you are too abrupt, od-rabbit it,
+madam, I will be heard: this affair concerns the _honor_ of my family,
+and on this one occasion, I will be my own spokesman.
+
+_Lady W._ Oh heavens! Your violence affects my brain.
+
+_Sir W._ Does it? I wish it would affect your tongue, with all my heart:
+bless my soul, what have I said! Lady Worret! lady Worret! you drive me
+out of my senses, and then wonder that I act like a madman.
+
+_Lady W._ Barbarous man, your cruelty will break my heart, and I shall
+leave you, sir Willoughby, to deplore my loss, in unavailing despair,
+and everlasting anguish. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ (_aside_) I am afraid not: such despair and anguish will never
+be my--happy--lot!--bless me, how quiet the room is--what can be--oh, my
+wife's gone! now then we may proceed to business--and so daughter, this
+young fellow, Charles, has dared to return, in direct disobedience to
+his father's commands.
+
+_Helen._ I had better confess it all at once--he has, he has, my dear
+papa. I do confess it was very, very wrong; but pray now do forgive--
+
+_Sir W._ _I_--forgive him! never; nor his father will never forgive him;
+sir Rowland writes me here, to take care of you; I have before given him
+my solemn promise to prevent your meeting, and I am sorry to say, I
+haven't the least doubt that you know he is here, and will--
+
+_Helen._ I do confess, _he_ is here, papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, you'll confess it fast enough, now I've found it out.
+
+_Helen._ Indeed I was so afraid you would find it out, that I----
+
+_Sir W._ Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the
+village these three hours!
+
+_Helen._ In the _village_! Oh, what, you heard he was in the _village_!
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house--egad
+I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear
+of finding you at a fault, you puss.
+
+_Helen._ Oh! you were afraid he should come _here_, were you?
+
+_Sir W._ Yes; but I'll take care he shan't; however, as my maxim is (now
+my wife doesn't hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can
+possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key,
+'till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again.
+
+_Helen._ What! lock me up!
+
+_Sir W._ Damme if I don't. Come, walk into that room, and I'll take the
+key with me. (_pointing to the room where Charles entered._)
+
+_Helen._ Into _that_ room?
+
+_Sir W._ Yes.
+
+_Helen._ And do you think I shall stay there by myself?
+
+_Sir W._ No, no. Here Tiffany! (_enter_ Tiffany) Miss Pert here shall
+keep you company. I'll have no whisperings through key-holes, nor
+letters thrust under doors.
+
+_Helen._ And you'll really lock me up in that room!
+
+_Sir W._ Upon my soul I will.
+
+_Helen._ Now, dear papa, be persuaded; take my advice, and don't.
+
+_Sir W._ If I _don't_, I wish you may be in Charles Austencourt's arms
+in three minutes from this present speaking.
+
+_Helen._ And if you _do_, take my word for it I might be in his arms if
+I chose, in less than two minutes from this present warning.
+
+_Sir W._ Might you so? Ha, ha! I'll give you leave if you can: for
+unless you jump into them out of the window, I'll defy the devil and all
+his imps to bring you together.
+
+_Helen._ We shall come together without their assistance, depend on it,
+papa.
+
+_Sir W._ Very well; and now, my dear, walk in.
+
+_Helen._ With all my heart; only remember you had better not. (_He puts
+her in._)
+
+_Sir W._ That's a good girl; and you, you baggage, in with you (_to
+Tiffany, who goes in._)
+
+_Sir W._ (_shuts the door and locks it_) "Safe bind, safe find," is one
+of my lady Worret's favourite proverbs; and that's the only reason why I
+in general dislike it (_going._)
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner.
+
+_Sir W._ Once more welcome, my dear Falkner. What brings you back so
+soon?
+
+_Falk._ You have a daughter--
+
+_Sir W._ Well, I know I have.
+
+_Falk._ And a wife.
+
+_Sir W._ I'm much obliged to you for the information. You have been a
+widower some years I believe.
+
+_Falk._ What of that? do you envy me?
+
+_Sir W._ Envy you! what! because you are a widower? Eh? Zounds, I
+believe he is laughing at me (_aside._)
+
+_Falk._ I am just informed that every thing is finally arranged between
+your lady and his lordship respecting Helen's marriage.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, every thing is happily settled.
+
+_Falk._ I am sincerely sorry to hear it.
+
+_Sir W._ You are! I should have thought Mr. Falkner, that my daughter's
+happiness was dear to you.
+
+_Falk._ It is, and therefore I do not wish to see her married to lord
+Austencourt.
+
+_Sir W._ Why then what the devil is it you mean?
+
+_Falk._ To see her married to the man of her heart, with whom I trust to
+see her as happy--as you are with lady Worret.
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, ha! ha! ha! yes! but you are in jest respecting my
+daughter.
+
+_Falk._ No matter! where is Helen?
+
+_Sir W._ Safe under lock and key.
+
+_Falk._ Under lock and key!
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, in that very room. I've locked her up to keep her from that
+hot-headed young rogue, Charles Austencourt. Should you like to see her?
+She's grown a fine young woman.
+
+_Falk._ With all my heart.
+
+_Sir W._ You'll be surprised, I can tell you.
+
+_Falk._ I dare say.
+
+_Sir W._ We'll pop in upon her when she least expects it. I'll bet my
+life you'll be astonished at her appearance.
+
+_Falk._ Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not
+marry this lord.
+
+_Sir W._ No! Who then?
+
+_Falk._ The man she loves.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt?
+(_opening the door._)
+
+    _Enter_ Lady Worret, _suddenly._
+
+_Lady W._ Charles Austencourt!
+
+_Falk._ (_aloud, and striking the floor with his stick._) Ay, Charles
+Austencourt!
+
+_Charles_ (_entering._) Here am I. Who calls?
+
+Helen _and_ Tiffany _come forward, and_ Tiffany _goes off._
+
+_Sir W._ Fire and fagots! what do I see?
+
+_Lady W._ Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold?
+
+_Falk._ Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment
+seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show!
+
+_Lady W._ Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain--
+
+_Sir W._ Curse me if I can.
+
+_Helen._ I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me!
+
+_Sir W._ So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you
+introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation.
+
+_Charles._ Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you
+from her ladyship's just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the
+truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing,
+gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my
+arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated,
+and positively and deliberately lock'd us in together!
+
+_Lady W._ Oh! I shall expire!
+
+_Sir W._ I've heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn't
+the paragon of the species! Zounds! I'm in a wonderful passion!
+Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my
+satisfaction.
+
+_Helen._ You _may_ have it explained, papa, but I fear it won't be to
+your _satisfaction_.
+
+_Charles._ No, sir, nor to her ladyship's either, and now, as my
+situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your
+most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an
+agreeable surprise for your friends--
+
+_Sir W._ Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can't tell, but if you
+don't presently walk out of it.
+
+_Charles._ I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose.
+
+_Sir W._ Zounds, sir, leave my house.
+
+_Charles._ Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party!
+[_Exit._
+
+_Sir W._ Thank heaven my house is rid of him.
+
+_Lady W._ As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you've made of
+this!
+
+_Sir W._ Death and furies, my Lady Worret--
+
+_Falk._ Gently, my old friend, gently: I'm one too many here during
+these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me
+caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to
+have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master
+of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what
+you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.-- [_Exit._
+
+_Lady W._ Ah! the barbarian!
+
+_Sir W._ (_appears astonished_) I'm thunderstruck (_makes signs to Helen
+to go before._)
+
+_Helen._ Won't you go first, papa?
+
+_Sir W._ Hey? If I lose sight of you till you've explained this
+business, may I be laid up with the gout while you are galloping the
+Gretna Green! "Be master of your house and wife if you don't wish to
+continue, _what you now are_!--Hey? the laughing-stock of all your
+acquaintance!" Sir Willoughby Worret the laughing stock of all his
+acquaintance! I think I see my self the laughing-stock of all my
+acquaintance (_pointing to the door_) I'll follow you ladies! I'll
+reform! 'tis never too late to mend! [_Exeunt._
+
+_End of Act. IV._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I.--_An apartment at_ sir Willoughby Worret's. _Enter_ sir
+Willoughby _and_ lady Worret.
+
+_Sir W._ Lady Worret! lady Worret! I will have a reform. I am at last
+resolved to be master of my own house, and so let us come to a right
+understanding, and I dare say we shall be the better friends for it in
+future.
+
+_Lady W._ You shall see, sir Willoughby, that I can change as suddenly
+as yourself. Though you have seen my delicate system deranged on
+_slight_ occasions, you will find that in essential ones I have still
+spirit for resentment.
+
+_Sir W._ I'll have my house in future conducted as a gentleman's should
+be, and I will no longer suffer my wife to make herself the object of
+ridicule to all her servants. So I'll give up the folly of wishing to be
+thought a _tender_ husband, for the real honour of being found a
+_respectable_ one. I'll make a glorious bonfire of all your musty
+collection of family receipt-books! and when I deliver up your keys to
+an honest housekeeper, I'll keep one back of a snug apartment in which
+to deposit a rebellious wife.
+
+_Lady W._ That will be indeed the way to make yourself respectable. I
+have found means to manage you for some years, and it will be my own
+fault if I don't do so still.
+
+_Sir W._ Surely I dream! what? have you _managed_ me? Hey? Zounds! I
+never suspected that. Has sir Willoughby Worret been lead in
+leading-strings all this time? Death and forty devils, madam, have you
+presumed to manage _me_?
+
+_Lady W._ Yes, sir; but you had better be silent on the subject, unless
+you mean to expose yourself to your daughter and all the world.
+
+_Sir W._ Ay, Madam, with all my heart; my daughter and all the world
+shall know it.
+
+    _Enter_ Helen.
+
+_Helen._ Here's a pretty piece of work!--what's the matter now, I
+wonder?
+
+_Lady W._ How dare you overhear our domestic dissentions. What business
+have you to know we were quarrelling, madam?
+
+_Helen._ Lord love you! if I had heard it, I should not have listened,
+for its nothing new, you know, when you're _alone_; though you both look
+so _loving_ in _public_.
+
+_Sir W._ That's true--that is _lamentably_ true--but all the world
+_shall_ know it--I'll proclaim it; I'll print it--I'll advertise
+it!--She has usurped my rights and my power; and her fate, as every
+usurper's should be, shall be _public_ downfall and disgrace.
+
+_Helen._ What, papa! and won't you let mamma-in-law rule the roast any
+longer?
+
+_Sir W._ No,--I am resolved from this moment no longer to give way to
+her absurd whims and wishes.
+
+_Helen._ You are!
+
+_Sir W._ Absolutely and immovably.
+
+_Helen._ And you will venture to contradict her?
+
+_Sir W._ On every occasion--right or wrong.
+
+_Helen._ That's right--Pray, madam, don't you wish me to marry lord
+Austencourt?
+
+_Lady W._ You know my _will_ on that head, Miss Helen!
+
+_Helen._ Then, papa, of course you wish me to marry _Charles_
+Austencourt.
+
+_Sir W._ What! no such thing--no such thing--what! marry a beggar?
+
+_Helen._ But you won't let mamma rule the roast, will you, sir?
+
+_Sir W._ 'Tis a great match! I believe in that _one_ point we shall
+still agree--
+
+_Lady W._ You may spare your persuasions, Madam, and leave the room.
+
+_Sir W._ What--my daughter leave the room? Stay here, Helen.
+
+_Helen._ To be sure I shall--I came on purpose to tell you the news! oh,
+tis a pretty piece of work!
+
+_Sir W._ What does the girl mean?
+
+_Helen._ Why, I mean that in order to ruin a poor innocent girl, in our
+neighbourhood, this amiable lord has prevailed on her to consent to a
+private marriage--and it now comes out that it was all a mock marriage,
+performed by a sham priest, and a false license!
+
+_Lady W._ I don't believe one word of it.
+
+_Sir W._ But I do--and shall inquire into it immediately.
+
+_Lady W._ Such a match for your daughter is not to be relinquished on
+slight grounds; and though his lordship should have been guilty of some
+indiscretion, it will not alter my resolution respecting his union with
+Helen.
+
+_Sir W._ No--but it will mine--and to prove to you, madam, that however
+you may rule your household, you shall no longer rule _me_--if the story
+has any foundation--I say--she _shall not_ marry lord Austencourt.
+
+_Lady W._ Shall not?
+
+_Sir W._ No, Madam, shall not--and so ends your management, and thus
+begins my career of new-born authority. I'm out of leading-strings now,
+and madam, I'll manage you, damn me if--I--do--not! [_Exit Sir
+Willoughby._
+
+_Helen_ (_to Lady W._) You hear papa's _will_ on that head, ma'am.
+
+_Lady W._ I hear nothing!--I see nothing!--I shall go mad with vexation
+and disappointment, and if I do not break his resolution, I am
+determined to break his heart; and my _own_ heart, and _your_ heart, and
+the hearts of all the rest of the family. [_Exit._
+
+_Helen._ There she goes, with a laudable matrimonial resolution. Heigho!
+with such an example before my eyes, I believe I shall never have
+resolution to die an old maid. Oh, Charles, Charles--why did you take me
+at my word!--Bless me! sure I saw him then--'tis he indeed! So, my
+gentleman, are you there? I'll just retire and watch his motions a
+little (_retires._)
+
+    _Enter Charles Austencourt, cautiously._
+
+_Charles._ What a pretty state am I reduced to? though I am resolved to
+speak with this ungrateful girl but once more before I leave her for
+ever; here am I, skulking under the enemy's batteries as though I was
+afraid of an encounter!--Yes, I'll see her, upbraid her, and then leave
+her for ever! heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl,
+and--however, I am resolved that nothing on earth--not even her tears,
+shall now induce me to forgive her. (_Tiffany crosses the stage._)
+
+_Charles._ Ha!--harkye, young woman! pray are the family at home?
+
+_Tiffany._ My lady is at home, sir--would you please to see her?
+
+_Charles._ Your lady--do you mean your _young_ lady?
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir, I mean my _lady_.
+
+_Charles._ What, your _old_ lady?--No--I don't wish to see her. Are all
+the rest of the family from home--
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir--sir Willoughby is within--I'll tell him you are
+here. (_going._)
+
+_Charles._ By no means--stay--stay! what then, they are all at home
+except Miss Helen.
+
+_Tiffany._ She's at home too, sir--but I suppose she don't wish to see
+you.
+
+_Charles._ _You suppose!_
+
+_Tiffany._ I'm sure she's been in a monstrous ill-humour ever since you
+came back, sir.
+
+_Charles._ The devil she has!--and pray now are you of opinion that my
+return is the cause of her ill-humour?
+
+_Tiffany._ Lord, sir--what interest have I in knowing such things?--
+
+_Charles._ Interest!--oh, ho! the old story! why harkye, my dear--your
+mistress has a lord for her lover, so I suppose he has secured a warmer
+interest than I can afford to purchase--however, I know the custom, and
+thus I comply with it, in hopes you will tell me whether you really
+think my return has caused your young mistress' ill-humour----(_gives
+money_).
+
+_Tiffany._ A guinea! well! I declare! why really, sir--when I say Miss
+Helen has been out of humour on your account, I don't mean to say it is
+on account of your _return_, but on account of your going away again--
+
+_Charles._ No! my dear Tiffany!
+
+_Tiffany._ And I am sure I don't wonder at her being cross about it, for
+if I was my mistress I never would listen with patience (any more than
+she does) to such a disagreeable creature as my lord, while such a
+generous nice gentleman as you was ready to make love to me.
+
+_Charles._ You couldn't?
+
+_Tiffany._ No, sir--and I'm sure she's quite altered and melancholy gone
+since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she
+never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you--(_Helen comes
+forward gently._)
+
+_Charles._ My dear Tiffany!--let me catch the sounds from your rosy
+lips. (_Kisses her_)--
+
+_Helen._ (_separating them_) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business
+here!
+
+_Charles._ I--I--I--Upon my soul, Madam--what you saw was--
+
+_Tiffany._ Ye--ye--yes--upon my word, ma'am--what you saw was--
+
+_Helen._ What I saw was very clear indeed!--
+
+_Charles._ Hear me but explain--you do not understand.--
+
+_Helen._ I rather think I _do_ understand.
+
+_Tiffany._ Indeed, Ma'am, Mr. Charles was only _whispering_ something I
+was to tell you--
+
+_Helen._ And pray, ma'am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper
+in that fashion?--what do you stand stammering and blushing there
+for?--why don't you go?
+
+_Tiffany._ Yes, ma'am,--but I assure you--
+
+_Helen._ What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose. [_Exit
+Tiffany._
+
+_Charles._ Let me explain this,--oh, Helen--can you be surprised?
+
+_Helen._ No, sir, I can't be surprised at any thing after what I have
+just witnessed--
+
+_Charles._ On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov'd
+me, that led me into this confounded scrape.
+
+_Helen._ Sir, you should not believe it--I don't love you. I wont love
+you,--and after what I have just seen, you can't expect I should love
+you--
+
+_Charles._ Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man
+who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear
+but very little more--
+
+_Helen._ Poor man! you're sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and
+by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn
+animal, having more than you can bear, you'll kick a little, and plunge
+a little, and then down on your _knees_ again!
+
+_Charles._ I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to
+believe you loved me.
+
+_Helen._ 'Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor
+ought to forgive you--for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to
+you.
+
+_Charles._ Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause?
+surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my
+fond affection?
+
+_Helen._ No! to be sure I couldn't, who could!--but what should I not
+have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented--to run
+away with you?
+
+_Charles._ Run away with me!--no!--zounds I've a chaise in waiting--
+
+_Helen._ Have you?--then pray let it wait,--no! no! Charles--though I
+haven't scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect
+for the world's opinion,--let us wait with patience,--time may rectify
+that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of
+it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the
+hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as
+by the more gradual poison of neglect.
+
+_Charles._ Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart--'tis a _rough_
+soil I own, but 'tis a _warm_ one; and when the hand of delicacy shall
+have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be
+everlasting love!
+
+_Helen._ Ah you men!--you men! but--I think I may be induced to try
+you.--Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart,
+and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (_he
+kisses her hand._) There you needn't eat it--there!--now make your
+escape, and farewell till we meet again.--(_They are going out
+severally_)
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ sir Willoughby, _at opposite sides._
+
+_Charles._ Zounds! my father!
+
+_Helen._ Gad-a-mercy! my papa!
+
+_Sir R._ So, sir! you are here again I find!
+
+_Sir W._ So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant.
+
+_Sir R._ I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy's
+conduct does not meet with my sanction.
+
+_Char._ No! sir Willoughby--I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets
+with my father's sanction.
+
+_Sir W._ Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we _do_
+like, and certain things that we do _not_ like--now sir, to cut the
+matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either
+your son or your nephew for her husband.
+
+_Sir R._ This is a very sudden _change_, sir Willoughby--
+
+_Sir W._ Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to
+day!--I've changed my resolution--I feel changed myself--for I've
+changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my
+son-in-law.
+
+_Sir R._ Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the
+last of these changes.
+
+_Sir W._ Sir, if you'll meet me presently at your attorney's, the thing
+will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please--Charles, I
+believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow
+for a son-in-law--but I think it is rather too much to give twelve
+thousand a year for him--this way Miss Helen. [_Exit sir Willoughby and
+Helen._
+
+_Sir R._ This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more
+exasperate him--I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is
+at hand; my own heart is witness against me--Heaven is my judge, and I
+have deserved my punishment! [_Exit sir R._
+
+_Char._ So! I'm much mistaken, or there'll be a glorious bustle
+presently at the old lawyer's--He has sent to beg I'll attend, and as my
+heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I'll e'en see what's going
+forward in _that_--whether his intention be to _expose_ or to _abet_ a
+villain, still I'll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to
+feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted
+virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares
+to lift his unblushing head on the other. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_O'Dedimus's Office._
+
+    _Enter_ O'Dedimus _and_ Ponder.
+
+_O'Ded._ You've done the business, you say!
+
+_Pon._ Ay, and the parties will all be here presently.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it! you're sure you haven't blabbed now?
+
+_Pon._ Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for?
+
+_O'Ded._ What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that
+will never be choked by politeness.
+
+_Pon._ Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for
+though they say "honesty's the best policy" a lawyer generally finds his
+purpose better answered by a _Policy of Assurance_.
+
+_O'Ded._ But hark! somebody's coming already, step where I told you, and
+make haste.
+
+_Pon._ On this occasion I lay by the lawyer and take up the Christian.
+Benevolence runs fast--but law is lazy and moves slowly. [_Exit._
+
+    _Enter_ Falkner _as_ Abel Grouse.
+
+_Abel Grouse._ I have obeyed your summons. What have you to say in
+palliation of the injury you have done me?
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith and I shall say a small matter about it. What I have done
+I have performed, and what I have performed I shall justify.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Indeed! Can you justify fraud and villany? To business, sir;
+wherefore am I summoned here?
+
+_O'Ded._ That's it! Upon my conscience I'm too modest to tell you.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Nature and education have made you modest: you were born an
+Irishman and bred in attorney--
+
+_O'Ded._ And take my word for it, when Nature forms an Irishman, if she
+makes some little blunder in the contrivance of his head, it is because
+she bestows so much pains on the construction of his heart.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ That may be partially true; but to hear _you_ profess
+sentiments of feeling and justice reminds me of our advertising
+money-lenders who, while they practise usury and extortion on the world,
+assure them that "the strictest honor and liberality may be relied on;"
+and now, sir once more, your business with me.
+
+_O'Ded._ Sure, sir, I sent for you to ask one small bit of a favour.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ From me!
+
+_O'Ded._ Ay, from you; and the favour is, that before you honor me with
+the appellation of scoundrel, villain, pettyfogger, and some other such
+little genteel epithets, you will be pleased to examine my title to such
+distinctions.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ From you, however, I have no hopes. You have denied your
+presence at the infamous and sacrilegious mockery of my daughter's
+marriage.
+
+_O'Ded._ That's a mistake, sir; I never did deny it.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Ha! you acknowledge it then!
+
+_O'Ded._ That's another mistake, sir; for I never did acknowledge it.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ Fortunately my hopes rest on a surer basis than your honesty.
+Circumstances have placed in one of my hands the scales of Justice, and
+the other her sword for punishment.
+
+_O'Ded._ Faith, sir, though you may be a fit representative of the old
+blind gentlewoman called Justice, she showed little discernment when she
+pitched upon you, and overlooked Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at
+law. And now, sir, be pleased to step into that room, and wait a moment,
+while I transact a little business with one who is coming yonder.
+
+_Ab. Gr._ I came hither to obey you; for I have some suspicion of your
+intentions; and let us hope that one virtuous action, if you have
+courage to perform it, will serve as a sponge to all the roguery you
+have committed, either as an attorney or as a man. [_Exit to an inner
+room._
+
+_O'Ded._ That blunt little fellow has got a sharp tongue in his head.
+He's an odd compound, just like a great big roasted potato, all crusty
+and crabbed without, but mealy and soft-hearted within. He takes me to
+be half a rogue and all the rest of me a scoundrel--Och, by St. Patrick!
+I'll bother his brains presently.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Rowland, lord Austencourt, _and_ Charles.
+
+_Lord A._ Further discussion, sir, is useless. If I am to be
+disappointed in this marriage, a still more strict attention to my own
+affairs is necessary.
+
+_Sir R._ I appeal fearlessly to this man, who has betrayed me, whether
+your interest was not my sole motive in the appropriation of your
+property.
+
+_Lord A._ That assertion, sir, I was prepared to hear, but will not
+listen to.
+
+_Sir R._ _Beware_, lord Austencourt, _beware_ how you _proceed_!
+
+_Lord A._ Do you again threaten me? (_to O'Dedimus_) are my orders
+obeyed? is every thing in readiness?
+
+_O'Ded._ The officers are in waiting!
+
+_Charles._ Hold, monster! Proceed at your peril. To me you shall answer
+this atrocious conduct.
+
+_Lord A._ To you!
+
+_Charles._ Ay, sir, _to me_, if you have the courage of a man.
+
+_Lord A._ I will no longer support these insults. Call in the officers.
+
+    _Enter_ sir Willoughby, lady Worret, _and_ Helen.
+
+_Sir W._ Hey! zounds! did you take me and my lady Worret for sheriff's
+officers, my lord?
+
+_Lord A._ I have one condition to propose--if that lady accepts my hand,
+I consent to stop the proceedings. That alone can alter my purpose.
+
+_Charles._ Inhuman torturer!
+
+_Helen._ Were my heart as free as air I never would consent to a union
+with such a monster!
+
+_Sir W._ And if _you_ would, curse me if _I_ would--nor my lady Worret
+either.
+
+_Sir R._ Let him fulful his purpose if he dare! I now see the black
+corruptness of his heart; and though my life were at stake I would pay
+the forfeit, rather than immolate innocence in the arms of such
+depravity.
+
+_Lord A._ Call in the officers, I say!
+
+_O'Ded_ (_without moving._) I shall do that thing.
+
+_Lord A._ 'Tis justice I demand! Justice and Revenge alike direct me,
+and their united voice shall be obeyed.
+
+_Falkner_ (_enters suddenly._) They shall! behold me here, thou
+miscreant, to urge it! justice and revenge you call for, and they shall
+both fall heavily upon you.
+
+_Sir. R._ Falkner!
+
+_O'Ded._ What! Abel Grouse, Mr. Falkner! here's a transmogrification for
+you!
+
+_Sir R._ How! Falkner and the unknown cottager the same person!
+
+_Falk._ Ay, sir; the man who cautioned you today in vain; who warned you
+of the precipice beneath your feet, and was unheeded by you--
+
+_Sir R._ Amazement! what would you have me do?
+
+_Falk._ Before this company assist me with the power you possess (and
+that power is ample) to compel your haughty nephew to repair the injury,
+which, in a humbler character, he has done me--
+
+_Lord A._ He compel me! ridiculous!
+
+_Falk._ (_to sir Rowland._) Insensible to injury and insult, can nothing
+move you? _Reveal your secret!_
+
+_Lord A._ I'll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved.
+
+_Sir R._ I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in
+descending must crush you.
+
+_Lord A._ I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of
+insolence and fraud? _What_ am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who
+am I?
+
+_Sir R._ No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and
+shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late
+lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own
+child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and
+blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring--_I changed the
+children._
+
+_Charles._ Merciful Heaven!
+
+_Sir R._ (_to lord A._) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster,
+are my son!
+
+_Sir W._ Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish
+me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret.
+
+_Lord A._ Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this
+preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it?
+
+_Falk._ Ay, sir; the law _will_ listen to it, _shall_ listen to it. _I_,
+sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity!
+
+_Lord A._ You!
+
+_Falk._ I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you
+see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany;
+and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor.
+
+_Lord A._ Then I am indeed undone!
+
+_O'Ded._ Shall I call the officers now, my lord? Mr. Austencourt, I
+should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen,
+be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just
+exactly what I _did not_ expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery
+of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though
+they haven't led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me
+to _wink_ at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now _certainly_
+lost Miss Helen, I hope he'll have no objection to do justice in another
+quarter. [_Exit._
+
+_Sir R._ Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to
+look upon you more?
+
+_Charles._ Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening
+prospects here (_taking Helen's hand_) to cherish any other feeling than
+forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge
+myself to oblivion of _all_ the past, except the acts of kindness I have
+received from you.
+
+_Sir W._ That's a noble generous young dog--My lady Worret, I wonder
+whether he'll offer to marry Helen now?
+
+_Lady W._ Of course, after what has passed, you'll think it decent to
+refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and
+your will shall in future be mine--
+
+_Sir W._ Shall it--that's kind--then I _will_ refuse him to please you:
+for when you're so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you.
+
+_Lady W._ (_aside._) Leave me alone to manage him still.
+
+    _Enter_ O'Dedimus, _introducing_ Fanny.
+
+_Lord A._ (_seeing Fanny._) Ah, traitor!
+
+_O'Ded._ Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you've
+neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt
+gentleman her father, 'tis time to spake out and to tell you that
+instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage
+as you bid me, _I_ have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul,
+by procuring a _real_ priest and a _real_ license, and by St. Patrick
+you are as much _one_ as any _two_ people in England, Ireland, or
+Scotland!
+
+_Fanny._ Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate!
+
+_Lord A._ (_after a conflict of passion._) And is this really so?
+
+_O'Ded._ You're _man_ and _wife_, sure enough. We've decent proof of
+this, too, sir.
+
+_Lord A._ You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. 'Tis
+the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my
+heart.
+
+_Fanny._ Oh, my lord! my husband!
+
+_Falk._ Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful.
+
+_Lord A._ It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled
+education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted
+like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will
+my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt
+removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured
+Fanny.
+
+_Fanny._ Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness!
+My father!
+
+_Falk._ This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor.
+
+_Sir R._ Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of
+restitution.
+
+_Char._ My dear father--no--no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I
+look for.
+
+_Helen._ Ah, Charles--my lord, I mean, I beg pardon--to be sure papa,
+ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent.
+
+_Sir W._ Who, me? Not for the world--hey! mercy on us! I forgot your
+ladyship (_aside_) do you wish me to decline the honor?
+
+_Lady W._ (_aside._) Why no, as matters have turned out.
+
+_Char._ Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today!
+
+_Falk._ The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now
+illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us.
+
+_O'Ded._ And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all;
+for every body knows they're the happiest man and wife among us.
+
+_Helen._ And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace
+         The doubtful smile of joy in every face,
+         There _is_ a smile, which doubt and danger ends----
+         The smile of approbation from our friends.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Inconsistencies: Man and Wife
+
+  Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error,
+  or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling.
+  Where names in stage directions were inconsistently italicized, they
+  have been silently regularized. Some minor punctuation inconsistencies
+  have also been silently corrected.
+
+_Unchanged:_
+  barbacued  [barbecued]
+  befal  [befall]
+  fulful  [fulfil]
+  head ach  [head ache]
+  vixin  [vixen]
+
+_Corrections:_
+  Lady Worret  [twice spelt Worrett]
+  Abel Grouse's cottage [Grouses's]
+  The wrongs of Abel Grouse  [Growse]
+  and no biscuit aboard  [buiscuit]
+  as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours  [bigest, perhaps your's]
+  However I do not despair  [do no despair]
+  the attorney in our town  [at-attorney: mis-hyphenated at end of line]
+  housekeeper  [occurs with and without hyphenation]
+  Yes, sir, your presence does astonish me  [you presence]
+  when it lost you, its dearest only friend  [it's]
+  Hey! ods life, I must sooth her  [odslife]
+  Ods life! I'm in a furious passion!  [Odslife]
+  I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye, daughter  [karkye]
+  harkye, young woman  [karkye]
+  Heigho! with such an example before my eyes  [Heighho]
+  heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl  [heighho]
+  In Act III, Scene III is named Scene II in the original
+
+_Apostrophes:_
+  In the original, apostrophes are used or omitted inconsistently in
+  several words: a'nt, cant, dont, had'nt, hav'nt, havn't, is'nt,
+  musn't, shant and would'nt. These have all been regularized.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic
+Censor, by Samuel James Arnold
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:31:33 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:31:33 -0700
commit	374d8a4743eca4ee4901e0cb029521046c8aa3b7 (patch)
tree	6a1f43a23409491a95ad2c56521111b915e35e0b