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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26954-8.txt b/26954-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a768bbb --- /dev/null +++ b/26954-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6692 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, +Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter + +Release Date: October 18, 2008 [EBook #26954] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + + + + +THE MIRROR OF TASTE, + +AND + +DRAMATIC CENSOR. + + +Vol. I APRIL 1810. No. 4. + + + + +HISTORY OF THE STAGE. + +CHAPTER IV. + +ORIGIN OF COMEDY--ARISTOPHANES--DEATH OF SOCRATES. + + +Though the term "tragedy" has from the first productions of Ęschylus to +the present time, been exclusively appropriated to actions of a serious +nature and melancholy catastrophe, there is reason to believe that it +originally included also exhibitions of a pleasant, or comic kind. The +rude satires, and gross mummery which occupied the stage, or rather the +cart, of Thespis, were certainly calculated to provoke mirth in the +multitude. By what has already been shown, the reader is apprised that +the word, in its original sense, bore no relation whatever to those +passions and subjects, to the representations of which it is now +applied; but meant simply a dramatic action performed at the feast of +the goat, in honour of Bacchus. Thus the different provinces of the +drama then undistinguished, were confounded under one term, and +constituted the prime trunk from which sprung forth the two branches of +tragedy and comedy separately--the first in point of time usurping the +original title of the parent stock, and retaining it ever after. + +Why human creatures should take delight in witnessing fictitious +representations of the anguish and misfortunes of their fellow-beings, +in tragedy, and, in comedy of those follies, foibles and imperfections +which degrade their nature, is a question which many have asked, but few +have been able to answer. The facts are admitted. Towards a solution of +their causes, let us consider what is said on the subject of tragedy in +that invaluable work "A philosophical inquiry into the origin of our +ideas of the SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL." + +"It is a common observation," says the author, in the chapter on +sympathy and its effects, "that objects which in the reality would +shock, are, in tragical and such like representations, the source of a +very high species of pleasure. This taken as a fact, has been the cause +of much reasoning. The satisfaction has been commonly attributed, first +to the comfort we receive in considering that so melancholy a story is +no more than a fiction; and next to the contemplation of our own freedom +from the evils which we see represented. I am afraid it is a practice +much too common in inquiries of this nature, to attribute the cause of +feelings, which merely arise from the mechanical structure of our +bodies, or from the natural frame and construction of our minds, to +certain conclusions of the reasoning faculty on the objects presented to +us: for I should imagine that the influence of reason, in producing our +passions, is nothing near so extensive as is commonly believed. + +"To examine this point, concerning the effect of tragedy in a proper +manner, we must previously consider how we are affected by the feelings +of our fellow-creatures, in circumstances of _real_ distress. I am +convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the +_real_ misfortunes and pains of others; for let the affection be what it +will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if, on the +contrary, it induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon +them, in this case we must have a delight or pleasure of some species +or other in contemplating objects of this kind. + +"Do we not read the authentic histories of scenes of this nature with as +much pleasure as romances or poems, where the incidents are fictitious? +The prosperity of no empire, nor the grandeur of no king, can so +agreeably affect in the reading, as the ruin of the state of Macedon and +the distress of its unhappy prince. Such a catastrophe touches us in +history, as much as the destruction of Troy does in fable. Our delight +in cases of this kind is very greatly heightened if the sufferer be some +excellent person who sinks under an unworthy fortune. Scipio and Cato +are both virtuous characters, but we are more deeply affected by the +violent death of the one, and the ruin of the great cause he adhered to, +than with the deserved triumphs and uninterrupted prosperity of the +other; for terror is a passion which always produces delight when it +does not press too close; and pity is a passion accompanied with +pleasure, because it arises from love and social affection. Whenever we +are formed by nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates +us to it is attended with delight; and as our creator has designed we +should be united by the bond of SYMPATHY, he has strengthened that bond +by a proportionable delight; and there most, where our sympathy is most +wanted, in the distresses of others. If this passion was simply painful +we should shun with the greatest care all persons and places that could +excite such a passion; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not +to endure any strong impression, actually do. But the case is widely +different with the greater part of mankind; there is no spectacle we so +eagerly pursue as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity; so that +whether the misfortune is before our eyes, or whether they are turned +back to it in history, it always touches with delight. This is not an +unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. _The delight we +have in such things, hinders us from shunning scenes of misery_; and the +pain we feel _prompts us to relieve ourselves in relieving those who +suffer_; and all this antecedent to any reasoning by an instinct that +works us to its own purposes without our concurrence." + +The great author then proceeds to illustrate this position further, and +after some observations says: + +"The nearer tragedy approaches the reality, and the further it removes +us from all ideas of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its +power what it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a +day to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint +the most favourite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and +decorations; unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting and music; +and when you have collected your audience, just when their minds are +erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high +rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a +moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative +weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the _real_ +sympathy. This notion of our having a simple pain in the reality, yet a +delight in the representation, arises hence, that we do not sufficiently +distinguish what we would by no means choose to do, from what we should +be eager enough to see, if it was once done. We delight in seeing things +which so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be, to see +redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I +believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a +conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to +the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident +to have happened, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the +ruins, and among them many who would have been content never to have +seen London in its glory." + +So much for the causes of the pleasure experienced from tragedy. But how +are we to account for the delight received from comedy? Some have +imagined it to arise from a bad pride which men feel at seeing their +fellow-creatures humiliated, and the frailties and follies of their +neighbours exposed. The fact is indubitable, be the cause what it may. +The great moral philosopher quoted above, in another part of his works, +shrewdly observes, "In the disasters of their friends, people are seldom +wanting in a laudable patience. When they are such as do not threaten to +end fatally, they become even matter of pleasantry." The falling of a +person in the street, or his plunging into the gutter, excites the +laughter of those who witness the accident: but let the fall be +dangerous, or let a bone be broke, and then comic feelings give way to +the sympathetic emotions which belong to tragedy. On a superficial +consideration, the delight we feel in tragedy bears the aspect of a +cruel tendency in our hearts, yet it is implanted in us for the purposes +of mutual beneficence. The pleasure we feel in comedy, too, looks like a +malignity in our nature; but why may not it, like the other, be resolved +into an instinct working us to some useful purpose without our +concurrence? + +The end of comedy, like that of satire, is to correct the disorders of +mankind by exhibiting their faults and follies in ridiculous and +contemptible attitudes. The tendency we feel to laugh at each other's +foibles, or at those misadventures which denote weakness in us, being +implanted by the hands of Providence, was no doubt given to us for +special purposes of good, and in all probability to make men without the +least intervention of will or reason, moral guides and instructers to +each other. It is allowed by the soundest philosophers that ridicule has +a much better effect in curing the vices and imperfections of men, than +the most illustrious examples of rigid virtue, whose duties are so +sublimed that they rather intimidate the greater part of mankind from +the trial, than allure them to walk in their steps. The following +definition of comedy given by Aristotle and adopted by Horace, +Quintilian, and Boileau, corresponds with these observations: "Comedy," +says the Stagyrite, "is an imitation of the worst of men; when I say +worst, I don't mean in all sorts of vices, but only in the ridiculous, +which are properly deformities without pain, and which never contribute +to the destruction of the subject in which they exist." + +It has been remarked that the most severe satirists have been men of +exemplary goodness of heart. The giant satirist Juvenal, was a +conspicuous illustration of this truth. While his superior intelligence +and sagacity unfolded to him in their full size the vices and follies of +his fellow-creatures, his superior philanthropy heightened his +indignation at them. The same may perhaps be said of the dramatic +satirists, or writers of comedy in general. We could adduce many +instances to corroborate this assertion. That very man who stands +unrivalled at the head of comic poetry, stands not less high in the +estimation of all who know him, for generosity and benevolence. If those +who have traversed the life of the author of the School for Scandal with +the greatest ill will to the man, were put to the question which they +thought, his good-nature or his wit were the greater, they would +probably decide in favour of the former. + +The most unamiable form in which comedy has ever appeared, was that it +assumed at its first rise in Greece. The character of the Athenians was +peculiarly favourable to it. The abbe Brumoy who has discussed the +subject with vast labour and talent says, "generally speaking, the +Athenians were vain, hypocritical, captious, interested, slanderous, and +great lovers of novelty." A French author of considerable note, making +use of that people as an object of comparison, says, "_Un peuple aussi +malin et aussi railleur que celui d'Athenes._" They were fond of liberty +to distraction, idolaters of their country, selfish, and vain, and to an +absurd excess scornful of every thing that was not their own. Their +tragic poets laid the unction of flattery in unsparing measure upon this +foible of theirs, representing kings abased as a contrast to their +republican dignity; and with all their greatness, it is easy to detect +through their writings, a lamentable propensity in their muse to play +the parasite with the people. To their gratification of the public +foible, the tragic poets no doubt owed some small part of that idolatry +in which they were held by the Athenian multitude. Yet no sooner did +the comic writers appear, ridiculing those very tragic poets, than they +became still greater favourites with the people. Horace has transmitted +to us the names of three of these comic poets, cotemporaries--Cratinus, +Eupolis and Aristophanes. If there were any before them, their names are +buried in oblivion. Taking the structure of the tragedies of Ęschylus +for their model, these commenced the first great era of improvement in +the comic drama. Of the comedies of Cratinus, Quintilian speaks in great +commendation; the little of his poetry, however, that remained is not +thought to justify that praise. Eupolis is related to have composed +seventeen plays at the age of seventeen years. He was put to death by +Alcibiades for defamation, and died unlamented except by a dog, which +was so faithfully attached to him that he refused to take food and +starved to death upon his master's tomb. So that of the three, +Aristophanes alone lays claim here to particular commemoration. + +Perhaps there is not one character of antiquity upon which the opinions +of mankind are divided, and so opposite to each other as that of +Aristophanes. St. Chrysostom admired him so much that he always laid his +works under his pillow when he went to bed. Scaliger maintained that no +one could form a just judgment of the true Attic dialect who had not +Aristophanes by heart. Of Madame Dacier's idolatry he seems to be the +god: while the venerable Plutarch objects to him that he carried all his +thoughts beyond nature; that he wrote not to men of character but to the +mob; that his style is at once obscure, licentious, tragical, pompous +and mean--sometimes inflated and serious to bombast--sometimes +ludicrous, even to puerility; that he makes none of his personages speak +in any distinct character, so that in his scenes the son cannot be known +from the father--the citizen from the boor--the hero from the +shopkeeper, or the divine from the servant. + +Whatever doubts may exist as to his talents there can be none respecting +his morals. To admit all that his panegyrists have said of his genius is +but to augment his depravity, since by the most wicked and wanton +perversion of that genius, he made it the successful instrument of the +most base and barbarous purposes. Against all that was great and wise +and virtuous he with the most malevolent industry turned the shafts of +his poignant wit, his brilliant imagination, and his solid knowledge. +Corrupting the comic muse from her legitimate duty he seduced her from +the pursuit of her fair game, vice and folly, and made her fasten like a +bloodhound upon those who were most eminent for moral and intellectual +excellence. His caricaturing of Sophocles and Euripides, and turning +their valuable writings into ridicule for the amusement of the mob, may +be forgiven--but the death of Socrates will never cease to draw upon +Aristophanes the execration of every man who has the slightest +pretensions to virtue or honesty. + +It is here to be observed that the comedy of Greece is to be ranked +under three distinct heads. The plays composed of ribaldry, defamatory +licentiousness, indecency and loose jokes, which prevailed on the stage +while the supreme power remained in the hands of the multitude, +constitute the first of these; and it goes by the name of the old +comedy. In those pieces no person whatever was spared. Though they were +so modelled and represented as to deserve the name of regular comedy +they were obscene, scurrilous, and defamatory. In them the most +abominable falsehoods were fearlessly charged upon men and women of all +conditions and characters; not under fictitious names, nor by innuendo, +but directly and with the real name of the party, while the execrable +calumniator, protected by the licentious multitude, boldly defied both +the power of the law and the avenging arm of the abused individual. +Among that licentious people, nobody, not even the chief magistrate nor +the very judges themselves, by whose permission the comedians were +permitted to play, received any quarter, but were exposed to public +scorn by any merciless wretch of a libeller who chose to sacrifice them. +Nor were the bad effects of these calumnies confined to public +scorn--they often went to the pecuniary ruin of families; sometimes, as +in the case of Socrates, afterwards to the death of their object. At +length the miscreants proceeded to open impiety, and held up the gods, +no less than men to derision. + +These abuses continued to contaminate the people and disgrace the +country with daily augmented profligacy till a change took place in the +government, which took the administration from the multitude and vested +it in a few chosen men. The corruptions of the stage were then attended +to, and the poets were restrained by law from mentioning any man's name +on the stage. With this law terminated that which is called THE OLD +COMEDY. + +So far was this law from producing the salutary effect expected from it, +that it rendered the poison more mischievous by depriving it of the +grossness which in some degree operated as an antidote to its baleful +effects. The poets finding that certain limits were prescribed to them, +had recourse to greater ingenuity, and by cunning transgressed the +spirit while they obeyed the letter of the law. They fell to work upon +well known real characters, concealed under fictitious names; thereby +not only exciting in the multitude a keener relish for their slanders, +but giving a more wide and extensive scope to the operation of their +malice. When the name of the object was openly told, the calumny rested +upon him alone--but when a fictitious name was held up, however well +known the real object might be, the slander was applied to many, and +each spectator fixed it upon that particular person whom stupidity, +malice, or personal hatred first suggested to him. Thus the hearts of +the people were more corrupted by the more refined malice of guessing +the persons intended. + +This is what has been denominated the MIDDLE COMEDY. In this particular +era it was that Aristophanes flourished, doing more mischief by his +labours than all the wit which was lavished upon the Grecian multitude +in ages could counterbalance. The virulence of the canker, however, at +last enforced the necessity of a resolute cure. The magistrates +interdicted the poets and players not only from using real names but +from representing real subjects. This admirable refinement produced +correspondent effects: comedy assumed a new character, and acquired a +new name. The poets being obliged to bring imaginary subjects and +fictitious names upon the stage, the safety of individuals from those +butcher slanderers was secured, and that safety begat tranquillity--thus +the theatre was gradually purified and enriched; and shortly after +Menander arose to dignify comedy and rescue the drama, and the public +taste of Greece from barbarism. This is the third division alluded to, +and is called the NEW COMEDY. A sad proof of the danger to a nation of +allowing a false or corrupt practice to prevail for any time, arises +from the sequel. The Athenians were so vitiated by the OLD and MIDDLE +comedy that the NEW was disagreeable to them, so that it rose to no +estimation in the world till it was transferred to Rome. + +To his poignant wit, and poisonous malignity, Aristophanes joined great +intrepidity of spirit. By the indefatigable exercise of his talents he +proceeded, unrestrained by fear, unchecked by conscience, inaccessible +to shame or pity, and alike regardless of the anger of foes and the +feelings of friends, giving to the middle comedy still more force and +acumen than ever belonged to the old. He cajoled the multitude by a +plausible affectation of a violent love for Athens, and an inveterate +hatred to all on whom he chose to fix the odium of wishing to enslave +her. Though he was a Rhodian by birth, he had the address to persuade +the Athenian multitude that he was a native of Athens. Wit of a much +more obtuse quality than his could not fail of winning the hearts of +such a people, if it were employed as his was in calumniating men of +wisdom, virtue and dignity. + +An instance of his intrepidity is worth relating. The very first man he +attacked was a man of vast power in Athens, named CLEO: for the purpose +of exposing this man he wrote his comedy of the EQUITES. He could not, +however prevail upon any of the actors to incur the danger of +personating Cleo, so much were they intimidated by the man's power, +wealth and influence. He therefore resolutely determined to play the +character himself; which he did with such diabolical ability that the +Athenian multitude compelled the object of his defamation to reward him +with no less a sum than five talents; cast flowers upon his head; +carried him through the streets, shouting applause, and made a decree +that he should be honoured with a crown of the sacred olive in the +citadel, as a distinction of the highest kind that could be shown to a +citizen. + +The greatest admirer of this mischievous man was Madame Dacier, who +translated from the Greek, and read over no less than two hundred times +his comedy of _The Clouds_. A partiality which no doubt will be allowed +to reflect much credit on that lady's taste, moral as well as critical, +especially when it is considered that it was by that comedy the death of +Socrates was accomplished. Socrates had expressed his disapprobation of +the licentiousness of the comic poets, in their conduct as well as +writings. This exasperated Aristophanes, who, to accomplish his revenge, +conspired with three profligates named Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +orators and rhetoricians, to destroy that godlike being. Defended by the +reverence in which the people held him, Socrates was perpetually secured +from the feeble villany of these three associates, till Aristophanes +joining them, broke down by wit the barrier that protected him. In the +comedy of the Clouds he threw the venerable old man into such forcible +ridicule as overset all the respect of the mob for his character, and +all their gratitude for his services, and they no longer paid the least +reverence to the philosopher whom for fifty years Athens had regarded as +a being of a superior order. This accomplished, the conspirators stood +forth to criminate him; and the philosopher was summoned before the +tribunal of five hundred, where he was accused--first, of corrupting the +Athenian youth--secondly, of making innovations in religion--and +thirdly, of ridiculing the gods which the Athenians worshipped. To prove +these evident falsehoods, false witnesses were suborned, upon whose +perjuries and the envy and malice of the judges, the accusers wholly +relied. They were not disappointed. The judges expected from Socrates +that abject submission, that meanness of behaviour, and that servility +of defence which they were accustomed to receive from ordinary +criminals. In this they were deceived; and his firmness and uncomplying +integrity is supposed to have accelerated his fall. + +The death of Socrates has always been considered one of the most +interesting and afflicting events in history--interesting as it exhibits +in that illustrious philosopher the highest dignity to which mere human +nature has ever attained, and afflicting as it displays in the Athenians +the lowest depth of baseness to which nations may sink. In the history +of the Grecian drama it is necessarily introduced, as it serves to throw +a light upon the effects produced by the dramatic poetry upon that +people, and because a consideration of the manner of that philosopher's +death is inseparably connected with the character of the first of their +comic poets, Aristophanes: this chapter therefore will conclude with a +circumstantial relation of that event, taken from a celebrated +historian: + +"Lysias, one of the most celebrated orators of the age, composed an +oration in the most splendid and pathetic terms, and offered it to +Socrates to be delivered as his defence before the judges. Socrates read +it; but after having praised the eloquence and animation of the whole, +rejected it, as neither manly nor expressive of fortitude; and comparing +it to Sicyonian shoes, which though fitting, were proofs of effeminacy, +he observed that a philosopher ought to be conspicuous for magnanimity, +and for firmness of soul. In his defence he spoke with great animation, +and confessed that while others boasted they knew every thing, he +himself knew nothing. The whole discourse was full of simplicity and +grandeur--the energetic language of offended innocence. He modestly +said, that what he possessed was applied for the service of the +Athenians. It was his wish to make his fellow-citizens happy, and it was +a duty he performed by the special command of the gods, "WHOSE +AUTHORITY," said he emphatically to his judges, "I REGARD MORE THAN +YOURS." This language astonished and irritated the judges, and Socrates +was condemned by a majority of only three votes. When, according to the +spirit of the Athenian laws, he was called upon to pass sentence on +himself, and to choose the mode of his death, he said, "For my attempts +to teach the Athenian youth justice and moderation, and to make the rest +of my countrymen more happy, let me be maintained at the public expense +the remaining years of my life in the Pyrtaneum, an honour, O Athenians +which I deserve more than the victors of the Olympic games: they make +their countrymen more happy in appearance, but I have made you so in +reality." This exasperated the judges still more, and they condemned him +to drink hemlock. Upon this he addressed the court and more particularly +the judges who had decided in his favour, in a pathetic speech. He told +them that to die was a pleasure, since he was going to hold converse +with the greatest heroes of antiquity: he recommended to their paternal +care his defenceless children, and as he returned to the prison, he +exclaimed, "I go to die, you to live; but which is the best the divinity +alone can know."" + +The celebration of the Delian festivals suspended his execution for +thirty days, during which he was loaded with irons; his friends, +particularly his disciples, were his constant attendants, he discoursed +with them with his wonted cheerfulness and serenity--one of them +expressing his grief that he should suffer, though innocent, Socrates +replied, "would you then have me die guilty?"--with this composure he +spent his last days, instructing his pupils, and telling them his +opinions in support of the immortality of the soul. And, oh what a +majestic spectacle! disregarded the entreaties of his friends, and when +it was in his power to make his escape from prison refused it. Crito +having bribed the jailor and made his escape certain, urged Socrates to +fly; "where shall I fly," he replied, "to avoid the irrevocable doom +passed on all mankind?" Christians! wonder at this heathen, and profit +by his example! in his last days he enlarged upon the wicked crime of +suicide, which he reprobated with an acrimony not usual with him, +declaring it to be an inexpiable offence to the gods, and degrading to +man because the basest cowardice. + +When the hour to drink the poison came, the executioner presented him +the cup, with tears in his eyes. Socrates received it with composure, +and after he had made a libation to the gods, drank it with an unaltered +countenance, and a few moments after expired. Thus did the villanous +libeller Aristophanes occasion the death of a man whom all succeeding +generations have concurred in pronouncing the wisest and best of +mankind, in the seventieth year of his age. + +Let justice record the sequel! Socrates was no sooner buried, than the +Athenians repented of their cruelty. His accusers were despised and +shunned; one was put to death; some were banished, and others with their +own hands put an end to a life which their cruelty to the first of +Athenians had rendered insupportable. + + + + +BIOGRAPHY--FOR THE MIRROR. + +SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE MR. HODGKINSON. + +(_Continued from page 212._) + + +It has been found impossible to ascertain, with any degree of precision, +the year of Mr. Hodgkinson's birth. At the time of his death, which +happened in 1805, he was stated to be thirty-six years of age; but there +are many reasons for believing that he was older. There are few ways in +which human folly and vanity so often display themselves, as in the +concealment of age. The celebrated Charles Macklin clipped from his term +of existence not less than ten years, the obscurity of his early life +inducing him to fancy he could make his age whatever he pleased without +detection. Extremely attached to the sex, he wished to appear youthful +in their eyes as long as possible, and fixed his birth at the year 1700; +but it has, since his death, been ascertained, upon authority which +cannot be controverted, that he was, for safety, carried away from the +field, on the day of the battle of the Boyne, in 1690. Indeed there +exist letters of his to his daughter, dated so far back as 1750, stating +his incapacity to chew solid food, and deploring the necessity of living +upon spoon-meat, on account of the loss of his teeth. From circumstances +which the writer of this remembers to have heard from Mr. Hodgkinson, he +suspected that the age of that gentleman was underrated; and therefore +took some pains to collect the best information respecting it. The +result of his inquiry has justified his suspicion. There are in America +several persons who remember Hodgkinson at different periods of his +theatrical life, from whose united opinions it appears most likely that +he was born in 1765. If this estimate be correct (it cannot be far from +it) it must have been early in the year 1781 when he took his flight +from Manchester, and reached the city of Bristol. + +He stopped at a wagon-house in Broad-mead, and was, by the wagoner, +introduced to the landlord, who soon showed, by the conduct of himself +and his family, that he was taught to consider our hero as a curiosity. +They treated him with exemplary kindness, however. The landlord, though +a rough homespun man, bred up in low life, manifested, not only +tenderness and humanity, but a degree of delicacy that could not have +been expected. A grown up young man, a son of his, the very evening he +arrived, took the liberty, upon the wagoner's report, of asking our +adventurer to sing him a song, for which the father reprimanded him, and +turning to John, said "Doant thee, doant thee sing for noabody, unless +thee likest it. If dost, thee'll have enow to do, I can tell thee." This +was one of the little incidents of his life upon which he was accustomed +to advert with pleasure; and often has he, with much good humour, +contrasted it with the rude and indelicate conduct of persons of great +pride and importance. No man that ever lived required less entreaty to +oblige his convivial friends with his charming singing. Of the families +where he was treated with friendship and free hospitality he delighted +to promote the happiness, and to them his song flowed cheerfully: but he +clearly distinguished from those, and has more than once, in the +confidence of friendship, spoken with feeling and considerable asperity, +of the indelicate conduct of some who, aspiring higher, ought to have +known better. "It is indeed," said he to the writer of this, "a trial +which few tempers could stand, but which I have often been obliged to +undergo. A person whom I have met, perhaps at the table of a real +friend, asks me to dine with him: I find a large company assembled upon +the occasion, and hardly is the cloth taken away, when mine host, with +all the freedom of an established acquaintance, without the least +delicacy, or even common feeling, often without the softening +circumstance of asking some other person to begin, or even of beginning +himself, calls upon Mr. Hodgkinson for a song."--"Then why do you +comply? why dont you refuse the invitation? or, if you cannot, why dont +you pretend to be hoarse?" "I will tell you why: because, in a place of +such limited population as this, the hostility of a few would spread +through the whole; and not only mine host, but all those whom he had +invited to Hodgkinson's SONG, would fret at their disappointment, and +their fret would turn to an enmity which I should feel severely in empty +benches at my benefit." "It is not that, Hodge," said this writer; "but, +as Yorick said to corporal Trim, because thou art the very best natured +fellow in the world." It was upon an occasion of this kind Hodgkinson +related to the writer the incident with his Bristol landlord, observing +upon it, that there were many who washed down turtle dinners with +champaigne and burgundy that might derive profit and honour from +imitating the natural politeness and delicacy of that man whom, if they +had seen, they would have called a low fellow or a boor. + +To please the honest wagoner, and one or two fellow-travellers, however, +H. did sing several songs in the evening, and as at that time he had not +learned to drink, they thought themselves the more indebted to him, and +the landlord and his wife put him to sleep with their son, who kept him +awake the greater part of the night, asking him the most ridiculous +questions respecting his parentage, where he came from, whither he was +going, &c. and concluded with expressing his firm belief, because Sally, +the housemaid, had told him so, that he, Hodgkinson, was some great +man's son, who had run away from school, for fear of a flogging: "for +you know," said he, "that none but the great volks can afford to be +great singers and musicianers." + +Resolved to take leave of his kind friend the wagoner, who was to set +off on his return early in the morning, our young adventurer was up +betimes, and went to the stable to look for him. As he stood at the +door, a tall young stripling, dressed in what they call a smock frock, +with a pitchfork in his hand, came up and, taking his station a little +on one side, began to view him from head to foot, scratching his head +and grinning. Our youth was startled and blushed, but said nothing, and +affected firmness; yet he imagined he had seen the man's face before. +The arrival of the wagoner afforded him a seasonable relief, and he +returned with him into the inn kitchen, where breakfast was got ready +and John was invited to sit down and eat. He had hardly swallowed two +mouthfuls when he of the pitchfork, having left his hat and his +instrument aside, entered, and, taking his station at the dresser, +continued to gaze upon him, still scratching his pate and looking +significantly. Our adventurer was sadly disconcerted, but concealed his +emotions so that they were not observed, till breakfast was over, when +the rustic took an opportunity to beckon to him with an intimation to +follow him. They proceeded to the stable, where after carefully looking +out of the back door to see that nobody was near them, the rustic +without any preface said, "I'll tell thee what--thee art Jacky +Meadowcroft!--I know thee as well as I do that horse that stonds there +before my eyes; so don't you go vor to tell loies about it, or to deny +it." Hodgkinson who, though he might be startled, was not to be +intimidated, asked the fellow sturdily, and with a dash of stage +loftiness, what it was to him who he was, or what his name; upon which +the other rather abashed said, "No harm I assure thee Jack, nor hurt +would I do thee for ever so much: but I fear thee be'est upon no good: +now don't think hard of me, but do thee tell me, what prank art thee +upon here?--where dids't thee get those foin clothes?"--To this our +adventurer gave no answer but a look of haughty resentment, putting his +arms akimbo, elevating his head and neck, and finishing with a +contemptuous sneer of the right barn-buskin kind. "Nay, now," said the +other, "I am sure of it. Yes, Jack Meadowcroft thee hast left thy honest +parents, and mixed with the strolling fellers--the play actors,--a pize +upon them, with their tricks, making honest folks laugh to pick their +pockets." + +Our youth now saw that it would be useless to persevere in concealment, +and said to the other with a good-humoured cheerful air, "Who are you +who know me so well, and seem so much concerned about me?" "My name be +Jack as well as thine," replied the honest-hearted bumpkin. Hodgkinson +then discovered that the young man had been for sometime a stable-boy +at Manchester, and was in the habit of going to his mother's house with +the gentlemen of the long whip; but being elder than John had not been +much noticed by him. H. understood from him that his singing at night +was the first thing that raised his suspicions, and that he determined +to know all about it in the morning. "I was pretty sure at the first +sight, said he, that thee wert Jack Meadowcroft; but still I was not +quite certain till I heard thee chattering with the folks at breakfast: +so being ostler, I called thee out to the stable to speak to thee _in +private_: for I'll tell thee what Jack, I will not betray thee." +Hodgkinson then told him that though he loved music and acting, and +should be glad to be a good player (at which the fellow shook his head) +he had not yet mixed with any strollers, nor did he believe any +strollers would let him mix with them; as he was too young and had not a +figure or person fit for their purpose; but his object was to go to sea +to escape from tyranny, hard fare, and oppression. + +How often are the intentions of the best heart frustrated by the +blunders of an uninformed head. Who can, without respect and admiration, +contemplate the sturdy integrity, and simple zeal with which this rustic +moralist enforced his laudable though mistaken notions? who can help +reflecting with some surprise upon the fact, that before he ceased to +apothegmatise and advise his young friend against having anything to do +with the actors he was actually the first who put him seriously in the +notion of going directly upon the stage as a public actor? It was a +curious process, and we will endeavour to relate it as nearly as +possible in the way Hodgkinson related it to us: + +"A plague upon going to sea," said the honest fellow, "I can't abide it, +thoff it be a hard, honest way of getting one's bread, and for that +reason ought to wear well--but some how or other I never seed a sailor +having anything to the fore; but always poor and dirty, except now and +then for a spurt. There's my two brothers went to sea, and it makes my +hair stand on end to hear what they go through; I would not lead such a +life--no, not for fifty pound a year; evermore some danger or some +trouble. One time a storm, expecting to be drowned--another a battle +with cannon, expecting to be murdered--one time pressed--another time +chased like a hare, that I wonder how they live. No, Jack, doan't thee +go to sea; but stay at home and die on dry land. Why see how happy I am! +and I'll be hong'd if measter within would'nt take thee with all love, +to tend customers and draw the beer: ay, and 'twould be worth his while +too, for thy song would bring custom, let me tell thee. As to being a +play-actor, confound it, I hate the very word; you need not think +anything about your size. Thou'rt very tall and hast a better face to +look at than any on 'un I see; and though thou be'est knock-kneed a bit, +its the way with all growing boys. Lord love thee, Jack, if wert to see +some of them fellows, for all they look so on the stage with paint and +tinsel and silk, when they stop to take a pint of beer, I think they be +the ugliest, conceitedest, foolishest talken fellows I ever ze'ed. Why +there's one feller was here for three days all time quite drunk--went +yesterday to Bath to get place there among them. He's a player, and as +ugly as an old mangy carthorse. But he's an Irishman to be sure, and +they say he won't do at Bath because he wants an eye." + +"You have players here at times then," said H. interrogatively. + +"Yes! sometimes they comes for their baggage, that is, their trunks and +boxes and women and children. Sometimes the poor souls on 'un come in +the wagon themselves. Sometimes when it's a holliday we 'un, they walk +out to Stapleton and other parts to kill time, being very idle people; +then they stop to take beer here, and they talk such nonsense that I +can't abide the tuoads. Lauk! thee why Jack, thee know'st I would not +flatter thee now--thee art a king to some on 'un that talks ten times as +big as king George could for the life o' him." + +This intelligence given by the honest simpleton, in all likelihood for +the purpose of disgusting our adventurer with the stage, communicated +to him the first proud presentiment he felt of what afterwards occurred. +The thought instantly struck him, "If performers, so very despicable as +this man describes, are endured upon a public stage, thought he, why may +not I?--cannot I be as useful as them? besides I can--but these men +sing, I suppose--do not they sing John, much better than me?" "Noa, I +tell thee they doan't: sing better than thee! they can't sing at all. A +tinker's jackass is as good at it as any of them I see here. When they +are on the stage (I went three or four times with our Sall to the play) +od rot 'un--they make a noise by way of a song, and the musicianers sing +for them on their fiddles." The man to whom honest John alluded, arrived +from Bath that very day, execrating the injustice of the Bath and +Bristol managers, who though they could not but be convinced of his +talents, refused to give him even a trial. Our adventurer surveyed him +from head to foot, and from the information of the man's face, voice, +deportment, language, and person, concluded with himself that he had +little to fear; "If, said he, this man has ever been received as an +actor by any audience in this world, I'll offer myself to the first +company I meet." He was precisely such as the ostler had described +him--he wanted an eye, and was frightfully seamed by the small-pox, +which not only had deprived him of that organ, but given him a snuffling +stoppage of the nose. Such as this, was the whole man in every point, +who actually boasted that he was allowed by all judges to play Jaffier +better than any man that ever lived, but Barry, and who, disgusted with +the British managers for their want of taste, took shipping that very +evening for Cork.[A] + +Without imparting a hint of his intention to the ostler who vowed, "as +he hoped to be saved" that he would never betray him (a vow which he +religiously fulfilled) Hodgkinson resolved to introduce himself in some +shape or other, to the company of the theatre as soon as they should +return from Bath to Bristol; an event which was to take place according +to the course of their custom, in two days. Meantime he walked +frequently to the theatre, in order to indulge himself with looking at +the outside of it; and he made the fine square before it, his promenade, +where he gave a loose to his imagination, and anticipating his future +success, built castles in the air from morning till night. + +He was at this work when the players returned from Bath. He saw the +gates laid open, and having taken his post at the passage to the +stage-door, resolved first to reconnoitre those who entered, and collect +from circumstances as they might occur, some clue to guide him in his +projected enterprise. As this was one of the eras in his life on which +he loved to ruminate and converse, he was more than commonly +circumstantial in his account of it. "There is a long passage," said he, +"that goes up to the stage-door at Bristol. For the first two days I +stood at the outside, but becoming more impatient, and impatience making +me bold, I took my station in the passage, with my hat under my left arm +stood up with my back to the wall, and as the actors and people of the +theatre passed by to rehearsal, I made a bow of my head to those whose +countenances and manners seemed most promising. For several days not one +of them took the least notice of me. There was one of them who looked so +unpromising that I should hardly have given him the honour of my bow, if +it were not for his superior age and venerable aspect; and I believe +when I did give it to him, it was but a mutilated affair. There was a +starched pompous man, too, whose aspect was, to my mind, so forbidding +and repulsive that I never _condescended_ to take much notice of him. +From a loquacious, good-natured and communicative old Irish woman who +sold fruit at the door I gained the intelligence that the former of +these was Mr. Keasberry the manager--the other Mr. Dimond. That Mr. D. +said I to her, seems to be a proud man. "Och, God help your poor head!" +said my informant; "it's little you know about them; by Christ, my dear, +there's more pride in one of these make-games that live by the shilling +of you and me, and the likes of us, than in all the lords in the +parliament house of Dublin, aye and the lord-lieutenant along with them, +though he is an Englishman, and of course you know as proud as the devil +can make him:--not but the old fellow is good enough, and can be very +agreeable to poor people," My first act of extravagance in Bristol was +giving this poor woman three half-pence for an orange, and making her +eat a piece of it; a favour which many years after she had not +forgotten." + +"I believe it was on the fourth day of my standing sentinel," continued +H. "that the old gentleman passing by me, I made him a bow of more than +ordinary reverence. The Irishwoman's character of him had great weight +with me, and my opinions and feelings were transferred to my salute. He +walked on a few steps, halted, looked back, muttered something to +himself and went on. I thought he was going to speak, and was so dashed, +I wished myself away; yet when he did not speak, I was more than ever +unhappy. He returned again with two or three people about him in +conversation; his eye glanced upon me, but he went on without speaking +to me, and I left the place--for, said I to myself, if this man does not +notice me, none of them will. Discouraged and chop fallen I returned to +Broad-mead, and on my way began, for the first time, to reflect with +uneasiness upon my situation. + +"Next day, however, I returned to the charge, and assumed my wonted post +in the way to the stage-door of the theatre. Instinctively I took my +stand further up the passage, and just at the spot where the old +gentleman had the day before stopped and turned to look at me--after +some minutes I saw him coming--I was ashamed to look towards him as he +advanced, but I scanned his looks through the corner of my eye--my mind +misgiving me at the moment, that I had a mean and guilty look, so that +when he came up, I made my reverence with a very grave, I believe +indeed, a very sad face. The old gentleman stopped, and my heart beat so +with shame and trepidation that I thought I should have sunk. He saw my +confusion, yet addressed me in a manner which, though not unkind nor +positively harsh, was rather abrupt. "I have observed you, boy, for +several days," said he, "standing in this passage, and bow to me as I go +by; do you wish to say anything to me? or do you want anything?" I +hesitated, and was more confused than I remember to have ever been +before or since:--"Speak out, my boy, said he, do not be afraid!" These +words which he uttered in a softened, kinder tone, he accompanied with +an action which gave the most horrible alarm to my pride, and suggested +to my imagination a new and frightful idea. He passed his hand into his +pocket as if feeling for cash. Great God! said I to myself, have I +incurred the suspicion of beggary! the thought roused all of the man +that was within me, and I replied, "No, sir, I am not afraid; nor do I +_want_ anything." He afterwards owned that the words, and still more the +delivery of them, made a strong impression upon him. Well then, my good +boy, what is it you wish for? coming here successively for so many days, +and addressing yourself to me by a salute, you must surely either want +or wish for something. "Sir," replied I, "I wish to go upon the stage." +"Upon the stage," said he emphatically, "how do you mean? oh to look at +the scenery I suppose"--"No, sir--I wish to be an actor."" + +Thus far the words of Hodgkinson himself are given. The name of the old +gentleman had entirely escaped the writer of this, who, when he heard +the relation from Hodgkinson, little thought that it would ever devolve +upon him to pay this posthumous tribute to his memory. Upon the facts +being since related, and the description of the person being given to +some gentlemen long and well acquainted with the affairs of the Bath and +Bristol theatres, they have cleared up the point to the writer, whose +recollection, though faint, perfectly coincides with their assurance +that it must have been Mr. Keasberry, who was at that time manager, and +with whose character this account is said to agree accurately. + +"I wish to be an actor," said our adventurer. The confidence and +firmness with which the boy spoke, surprised and greatly diverted the +old manager, who after eyeing him attentively a minute or two, +exclaimed, "You an actor, you young rascal!" then laughed heartily, and +continued, "An actor indeed! and what the devil part would you think of +acting?" By this time some of those who attended the theatre, +doorkeepers or supernumeraries, came up, and Mr. K. said to them, +laughing, "Here's a gentleman proposes to be an actor." And again +addressing the boy he said to him with an affected solemnity, "Pray, +sir, what character have you yet thought of enacting?" The jibing manner +in which this was spoken by the manager, and the sneering, scornful +looks of the sycophants about him, who, to curry favour with him, +chuckled at his cleverness, had nearly disconcerted the poor boy; +however, he was naturally resolute, and replied, "If I can do nothing +else I can snuff candles, or deliver a message, or do anything that +young lads do." "You can indeed?" "Yes, sir, and I can do more, I can +play the fiddle and sing a good song." "A good song! I dare say--but +d----d badly I'll answer for it." "Won't you give me a fair trial, sir?" +"Fair trial indeed!" repeated the old man laughing, and walking on a +step--"fair trial! a pretty trial truly--however," said he, turning +round and beckoning to the boy, as he got to the stage-door, "Come this +way, and let's hear what further you have to say for yourself!" + +Hodgkinson followed the manager, and for the first time in his life set +his foot on the stage of a public theatre. The actors were rehearsing; +and ensconced behind one of the side scenes he looked on, and "_with the +very comment of my soul I did observe them_," said he, "and not to +conceal anything from you, I thought I could have done a great part of +it much better myself! oh that I were but a little bigger and had a +beard! said I to myself twenty times while the actors were going through +the business." Had they thought of infant Rosciuses at the time, his +bread had been buttered on both sides, as the saying is. The rehearsal +being over, Mr. K. advanced to him and said, "You wish to be an actor, +eh!"--then turning to one of the actors, "Here is a person," continued +he, "who desires to go upon the stage, and is content by the way of a +beginning, to snuff the candles--humble enough you'll say. But he says +he can sing;" then ironically to H. "Now, pray sir, do us the favour to +say what song you _can_ sing--you perceive the gentlemen of the band are +in the orchestra--or perhaps you would rather accompany yourself, as you +say you play the fiddle." Then without giving him time to answer he said +to one of the band, "hand this gentleman a fiddle, as he calls it." +Hodgkinson took the fiddle, and pitching upon the beautiful _Finale_ at +the end of the first act of the farce of the Padlock, he played and sung +it not only to the astonishment of them all, but so much to their +satisfaction and delight, that Mr. K. after asking him whether he +thought he could sing accompanied by the band, and being answered in the +affirmative, spoke to the orchestra to go over the Finale with him, and +desired H. to sing it again. Emboldened by this mark of approbation, +John asked permission to sing another song: Mr. K. assented: the boy +then stepped forward to the orchestra and asked the leader whether it +would suit him to play one of the songs of Lionel? Certainly, he +replied, which of them? "Oh dry those Tears," said our juvenile hero: a +murmur escaped them all, as if they thought his vanity was carrying him +too far. "Try him, by all means try him," said Mr. K.--The boy +sung--their surprise was now raised to astonishment--and Mr. K. patting +him on the head, emphatically said to him, "My boy, you'll never be a +candle snuffer. For the present, however, you may carry a letter--or +something more perhaps." He then interrogated him--"have you ever been +about a theatre:--perhaps your parents are?"--"No sir, I never had the +sole of my foot on a stage till now." "Where then did you first learn +to sing?" "In our church sir." "Your church! where is your church?" Here +finding that he had got into a dilemma, he hesitated and blushed: "a +number of other boys and I practised music together, sir." "But +where?"--then perceiving the boy's distress, Mr. K. shifted the question +and said, "So much for your singing, but where, in God's name, did you +learn to accompany your singing with such action; which I declare, said +he, turning to the people on the stage, wants little to be what I should +call perfect for a singer?" "We boys, sir, acted plays together." "And +you played--" "Several parts, sir." "You surprise me, boy!" "Well," said +he, "call upon this gentleman tomorrow morning betimes, and he will +converse with you." He then turned to the person who was acting as +prompter, and whispered him, when Hodgkinson, after getting the +gentleman's direction, made his bow. As he was going down the passage a +lad followed him and told him the manager had sent to let him know that +if he pleased he might come on the stage that evening during the +performance. + +Never before had our adventurer experienced such transporting +sensations. To use his own words, his head whirled and sung again with +delight. Instead of going straight back to Broad-mead, he walked about +the square plunged in a delicious reverie--perfectly insensible of +hunger or fatigue he continued on the stride, up the river side and +down, then about the square again--then here, then there, in short he +knew not whither nor why, wholly forgetful of home, dinner, and every +thing till some time after the playhouse opened, when going to the +stage-door he was admitted, and when he got behind the scenes, was +kindly accosted by some, questioned very impertinently, and curiously by +others, and stared at by all. The after-piece for the night was "the +Contrivances," which he had never seen or heard of before. He was vastly +taken with the song of "Make haste and away my only dear;" and as he +passed down from the stage, hummed it to himself; on which one of the +gentlemen of the band who was near him accosted him, "Hah, master +Henry, is it you?--you have practised every piece on the stage, one +would think--and the Contrivances has not escaped you." "My name is not +Henry, sir--my name is John." "Well, Master John then, I beg your +pardon, but you have been at Rover I see." "No, sir, I never saw or +heard of the Contrivances till this night's performance." "You can't say +so," said the other, "you have learned that song before, assuredly!" +"Upon my word it is a truth, sir; I never heard it before tonight." "Do +me the favour to hum it over again for me," said the musician. +Hodgkinson complied. "Why you have the words of the song as well as the +air." "Of one verse only, sir: but the next time, I shall catch the +whole of it." The musician expressed his astonishment, and asked the boy +where he lodged; to which John replied, "Off this way, sir," and ran +away as fast as he could to Broad-mead, where he was resolved it should +not be known, for sometime, at least, that he had any connexion with the +theatre. + +When he reached his hospitable landlord and family, he found that they +had all been in great consternation at his absence. He had that morning +spoken to his friend John the ostler, about selling his silver buckles, +in order to pay his bill, and the generous souls were all afraid that he +was in distress. "Hast thee eat nothing since breakfast," said the good +man; "Lauk! why thee must be famished--what bewitched thee to stay away +from thy meals, child," cried the wife, "tis very bad for a young thing +like thee to fast," said another: and numberless other kind and tender +expostulations were uttered by the good people one and all, while ostler +John who was more frightened about him than any of them, and could not +get the naughty players out of his head, coming in said with +affectionate surliness, "Soh! thee'st come back, be thee?--Ecod thee +deservst to ha thee jacket trimmed, so thee dost--a young tuoad like +thee to stay out, God knows where, to this time o' night?" "Dont be +angry John," replied our adventurer, "dont be angry--and as to trimming, +John, it is not in thy jacket, to trim my jacket John--so go to your +hayloft and dont make a fool of thyself!" In saying this he mimicked +John's clownish lingo so nearly that the family burst out laughing, and +John went off, growling out that he believed the devil or his imps the +player fellers had got possession of the boy. + +"John is thy friend," said the landlord, "he was quite down o' the mouth +about thee." "And I love and thank John," said Hodgkinson, "but I could +not help making fun of him for his talking of beating me. I accidentally +met with a friend who offered to bring me to the play, and I was so glad +I never thought of dinner." "Well come now," then said the good man, +"pay away upon that beef--lay in dinner and supper at once, my boy, and +thee shall have a cann of as good _yeal_ as any in Somersetshire, and +moreover than all that it shall cost thee nothing but the trouble of +drinking it--so here's to thee, my boy." The worthy man drank, and his +wife drank, and son and daughter, and all drank, and H. told them all +about the play, and sung, "Make haste and away my only dear," for them, +to their great delight. He was then too innocent and too young to direct +it to the young lady of the house, or it is more than probable that she +would have been more delighted with it, than any of them. + +The next morning early he waited on Mr. ----,[B] the prompter, who told +him that Mr. K---- desired that he would keep about the theatre, and +make himself as useful as he could in anything that might occur, till +something could be done for him. He accordingly attended it diligently, +examining and watching every thing done and every body that did it, and +storing his young mind with useful knowledge of the profession. What his +pittance was, he never told this writer, who therefore concludes it must +have been very small, particularly as he sold his buckles, and plumed +himself upon not parting with the silver seal given him by his old +friend at Manchester. + +(_To be continued._) + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] Upon comparing notes with Hodgkinson, and considering his +description, I was convinced that this was no exaggerated picture. +Precisely such a man I remember to have seen, but not playing. He was in +a strolling company in Ireland, and was admired for his miraculous power +of making people merry with tragedy. He was a well-meaning, honest, +simple poor man, but even his performance of Jaffier was hardly as +comical as the compliments he himself lavished upon it. + + _Biographer._ + + +[B] The name is entirely forgotten by the biographer. + + + + +BARRY, THE PLAYER. + + The following description of the person and acting of the + celebrated BARRY the player is introduced here, to accompany + the life of Hodgkinson, because a clear recollection of the + former in a multitude of characters, a long and scrutinous + investigation of the professional powers of the latter, and + an intimate knowledge of both of them, has long established + in our minds the unalterable opinion that of all the + performers who make up the feeble crowd that have followed + the men of Garrick's day in sad procession, not one so + nearly trod in the footsteps of Barry (_sed heu longo + intervallo_) as Hodgkinson. Whatever may have been said of + his comedy, we never could contemplate it with half the + satisfaction we received from some of his tragic + performances. His Osmond, his De Moor, and his Romeo were + infinitely superior to his Belcour, Ranger, and Ollapod. And + his Jaffier unquestionably stood next to Barry's. We know + nothing of Mr. Young, therefore do not mean to include him + in this position, though seeing and hearing what we every + day see and hear, of the present facility of pleasing in + England, we receive the encomiums of the other side of the + Atlantic on their passing favourites _cum grano salis_. In a + word, we are persuaded that Hodgkinson came nearer to Barry + in Barry's line, than any actor now living does to Garrick, + Barry, or Mossop in theirs. In Faulconbridge, and in it + alone he was perhaps equal to Barry. + + +Spranger Barry was in his person above five feet eleven inches high, +finely formed, and possessing a countenance in which manliness and +sweetness of feature were so happily blended, as formed one of the best +imitations of the Apollo Belvidere. With this fine commanding figure, he +was so much in the free and easy management of his limbs, as never to +look encumbered, or present an ungraceful attitude, in all his various +movements on the stage. Even his _exits_ and _entrances_ had peculiar +graces, from their characteristic ease and simplicity. What must have +greatly assisted Barry in the grace and ease of treading the stage, was +his skill in dancing and fencing; the first of which he was early in +life very fond of; and, on his coming to England, again instructed in, +under the care of the celebrated Denoyer, dancing-master to Frederick +Prince of Wales's family. This was done at the prince's request after he +had seen him play in lord Townley, in the Provoked Husband. In short +when he appeared in the scene, grouped with other actors of ordinary +size, he appeared as much above them in his various qualifications as in +the proud superiority of his figure. + + "So, when a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, + All eyes are idly bent on him who follows next." + +To this figure he added a voice so peculiarly musical as very early in +life obtained him the character of "the silver-toned Barry," which, in +all his love scenes, lighted up by the smiles of such a countenance, was +persuasion itself. Indeed, so strongly did he communicate his feelings +on these occasions, that whoever observed the expressive countenances of +most of the female part of his audience, each seemed to say, in the +language of Desdemona, + + "Would that Heaven had made me such a man." + +Yet, with all this softness, it was capable of the fullest extent of +rage, which he often most powerfully exemplified, in several passages of +Alexander, Orestes, Othello, &c. + +We are aware of Churchill's criticism in the Rosciad standing against +us, where he says, "his voice comes forth like Echo from her cell." But +however party might have cried up this writer as a poet and a satirist +of the first order, Goldsmith had the sense and manliness to tell them +what they called satires were but tawdry lampoons, whose turbulence aped +the quality of force, whose frenzy that or fire. Beside, Churchill had a +stronger motive than prejudice or whim: the great hero of his poem was +Garrick; and as Barry was his most formidable rival, he had little +scruple to sacrifice him on this occasion. + +But to leave the criticisms of this literary drawcansir to that oblivion +to which they seem to be rapidly hastening, let us examine the merits +of Barry in some of those characters in which he was universally allowed +to excel; and on this scale we must give the preference to Othello. This +was the first character he ever appeared in, the first his inclination +prompted him to attempt--and the first without question, that exhibited +his genius in the full force and variety of its powers. + +In the outset of Othello, when he speaks but a few short sentences, +there appears a calmness and dignity in his nature, as evidently show +"the noble qualities of the Moor." These sentences we have often heard +spoken (and by actors too who have had considerable reputation) as if +they had been almost totally overlooked; reserving themselves for the +more shining passages with which this tragedy so much abounds: but Barry +knew the value of these introductory traits of character, and in his +first speech, "_'Tis better as it is_," bespoke such a preeminence of +judgment, such a dignified and manly forbearance of temper, as roused +the attention of his audience, and led them to expect the fullest +gratification of their wishes. + +His speech to the senate was a piece of oratory worthy the attention of +the critic and the senator. In the recital of his "feats of broils and +battles," the courage of the soldier was seen in all the charms of +gallantry and heroism; but when he came to those tender ejaculations of +Desdemona, + + "In faith 'twas strange--'twas passing strange! + 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful!" + +his voice was so melodiously harmonized to the expression, that the sigh +of pity communicated itself to the whole house, and all were advocates +for the sufferings of the fair heroine. + +In the second act, when he meets Desdemona at Cyprus, after being +separated in a storm, his rushing into her arms, and repeating that fine +speech, + + ----"Oh! my soul's joy! + If after every tempest come such calms," &c. + +was the voice of love itself; describing that passion in so ecstatic a +manner as seemingly to justify his fears + + "That not another comfort like to this + Succeeds in unknown fate." + +Through the whole of the third act, where Iago is working him to +jealousy, his breaks of _love_ and _rage_ were masterpieces of nature, +and communicated its first sympathies; but in his conference with +Desdemona, in the fourth act, where he describes the agonizing state of +his mind, and then, looking tenderly on her, exclaims, + + "But there, where I had garnered up my heart, + Where either I must live or bear no life," + +the extremes of love and misery were so powerfully painted in his face, +and so impressively given in his tones, that the audience seemed to lose +the _energies of their hands_, and could only thank him _with their +tears_. + +We have to lament, that in many of the last acts of some of our best +dramatic writers, there wants that degree of finish and grouping equal +to the rest. Shakspeare sometimes has this want in common with others; +but in this play he has lost none of his force and propriety of +character--here all continue to speak the language of their +conformation, and lose none of their original importance. Barry was an +actor that, in this particular, kept pace with the great poet he +represented--he supported Othello throughout with unabating +splendor--his ravings over the dead body of the _innocent_ Desdemona, +his reconciliation with Cassio, and his dying soliloquy, were all in the +full play of varied excellence, and forced from the severest critic the +most unqualified applause. + +That this our opinion is not exaggerated, we refer to that of Colley +Cibber, an unquestionable good judge of his art, and who, with all his +partialities to Betterton, yet gave Barry the preference in Othello. In +short, it was from first to last a gem of the noblest kind, which can be +no otherwise defined than leaving every one at liberty to attach as +much excellence to it as he can conceive, and then suppose Barry to have +reached that point of perfection. + +His other favourite characters were, Jaffier, Orestes, Castalio, +Phocias, Varanes, Essex, Alexander, Romeo, &c. In all characters of this +stamp, where the lover or hero was to be exhibited, Barry was _unique_; +insomuch, that when Mrs. Cibber (whose reputation for love and plaintive +tenderness was well known) played with Garrick, she generally +represented his _daughter_ or _sister_--with Barry she was always his +_mistress_. + +He likewise excelled in many parts of genteel comedy; such as lord +Townly, Young Belville, &c. &c. The Bastard in King John, was another +fine character of his, which Garrick attempted in vain--having neither +sufficiency of figure, or heroic jocularity. To that may be added Sir +Callaghan O'Brallaghan, in Macklin's farce of Love-a-la-Mode; a part in +which he gave such specimens of the gallant simplicity and integrity of +the _Irish gentleman_, as were sufficient to establish an independent +reputation. + +Though his Hamlet, Richard, Lear, Macbeth, &c. were _star height_ above +what we see now, he lost by a comparison with Garrick. Here the latter +showed the _master_ in an uncommon degree; as he did in all the quick +animated parts of tragedy. In the spritely, light kind of gentlemen, +Garrick had likewise the advantage; and in the whole range of low comedy +he blended such a knowledge of his art with the simplicity of nature as +made all the minutię of the picture complete. Thus his _Abel Drugger_ +was as perfect in design and colouring as the miseries and distresses of +_Royal Lear_. + +In talking of these actors, it is impossible for the _amateurs_ of the +stage not to regret their loss with some degree of sensibility--not only +as men who contributed to the entertainment and refinement of their +youth, but whose death seem to threaten a decay of the profession +itself. There are periods when the arts and sciences seem to mourn in +sullen silence the departure of those original geniuses, who, for +years, improved, exalted and refined them; and, like widows, whose +hearts were sincerely pledged to their first lords, will not sacrifice +on the altar of affectation to _secondary wooers_. Painting and statuary +suffered such a loss in the deaths of Titian, Raphael, and Michael +Angelo, that more than two centuries have not been able to supply it; +and how long the _present stage_ may want the aid of such powerful +supporters as _Garrick_ and _Barry_, the experience of near thirty years +holds out but very little hopes of encouragement. + +To this admirable description as true as it is eloquent, we subjoin the +following extracts from the old Dramatic Censor of England. + + * * * * * + +Speaking of Castalio in _The Orphan_, he says, "His circumstances give +great scope for the exertion of various capital powers, which were +amazingly well supplied in the elegant figure, bewitching voice, and +excellent acting of Mr. Barry; who, in this part, defied the severest +criticism, and justly claimed what he always obtained, the warmest +applause that enchanted feelings could bestow." + + +_Antony in Julius Cęsar._ + +Mr. Barry beyond doubt stands foremost in our approbation for this part, +as possessing an adequate figure, an harmonious voice, and all the +plausibility of insinuation that Shakspeare meant; however, we think +that critic an enthusiastic admirer, who, speaking of him in the +Rostrum, exclaimed that Paul never preached so well at Athens.[C] It is +certain, nature in this, as well as in all his dramatic undertakings, +furnished him with irresistible recommendations. + + +_Varanes in Theodosius, or the Force of Love._ + +Varanes, who was most the object of our author's attention, is an odd +medley of love and pride; now he will, then will not; tender, impatient; +in short a romantic madman; yet notwithstanding inconsistencies of a +glaring nature, he is a dramatic personage highly interesting. Mr. Barry +must, in imagination, to those who are at all acquainted with his +performance, fill up every idea of excellence in this character: his +love was enchanting, his rage alarming, his grief melting: even now, +though overtaken by time, and impaired in constitution, he has not the +shadow of a competitor. The rheumatic stiffness of his joints has been +industriously trumpeted forth, and every mean art made use of to lower +him in public opinion; yet true it is that _if he hobbled upon stilts_, +he would be better than many persons, in his style, upon their best +legs. A gentleman of acknowledged judgment lately made the following +just and striking similitude: that Mr. Barry was like the time-worn +ruins of Palmyra and Balbec, which even in a fallen state show more +dignity and real beauty, than the most complete productions of modern +architecture.[D] + + +_In Altamont in The Fair Penitent._ + +After observing that this character lies a dead weight upon the play, +this great critic says, "We remember Mr. Barry, by exertion of singular +merit, making Altamont as respectable as any other character in the +piece, though Mr. Garrick did _Lothario_ and Mr. Sheridan _Horatio_ on +the same occasion. Indeed he so much outfigured all competitors and +illustrated so beautifully a character scarce known before, that he +appeared to great advantage." + + +_Othello._ + +"If any performer ever was born for one part in particular it must have +been Mr. Barry for the Moor: his figure was a good apology for +Desdemona's attachment, and the harmony of his voice to tell such a tale +as he describes, must have raised favourable prejudice in any one who +had an ear, or a heart to feel. There is a length of periods and an +extravagance of passion in this part, not to be found in any other for +so many successive scenes, to which Mr. Barry appeared peculiarly +suitable. He happily exhibited the hero, the lover, and the distracted +husband; he rose through all the passions to the utmost extent of +critical imagination, yet still appeared to leave an unexhausted fund of +expression behind; his rage and tenderness were equally interesting, but +when he uttered the words "rude am I in my speech," in tones as _soft as +feathered snow that melted as they fell_, we could by no means allow the +sound an echo to the sense." + +To these extracts we will add one from the life of the celebrated John +Palmer, already mentioned, in the Thespian dictionary. + +"The following summer he (Palmer) was engaged at the Haymarket, when Mr. +Barry was also engaged. The part of Iago was given to Mr. Palmer to +study, but at rehearsal he was so awed at the presence of Mr. Barry, +that in spite of all that gentleman's encouragement, he could not subdue +his terrors, and was obliged to resign his part to Mr. Lee." + +Yet there was a suavity and familiar frankness in his manner, +particularly if he had a point of interest or pleasure to carry, which +won young and old--man and woman. A British merchant having occasion to +go to Dublin when Barry and Mossop headed the rival theatres, was +commissioned to collect some debts, and among others two owing by those +celebrated men. When he returned to London his constituent asked him, +"Well, have you got the actors to pay you?" "Mossop has paid," he +replied, "Barry, not." "How comes that?" "To tell you the truth," +answered our merchant, "I called on Mr. Barry several times, but he +delighted me so much with his talk, and his kindness, that I swear, I +could not ask him for money, or do anything to hurt his feelings. When I +went from him to Mossop, he looked so stern, that I was overawed and +cowed, and so told him, that as I wished to _oblige_ him, I would let +the matter lie over; and what do you think was his answer? In a voice +that made me tremble, he said, disdainfully, "_You_ oblige ME, sir!--and +pray sir, who are _you_ that presume to offer to oblige me?--call +tomorrow, sir, on my treasurer, and the pelf shall be paid to you, sir." +And as I went down stairs I could hear him say to himself several times, +"Oblige ME indeed, ha, ha, hah!--_you_ oblige ME!!" In a word I got the +money from him, but never saw him after." "You saw Barry, though?" "Oh +yes, he gave me a general order to the house, introduced me to Mrs. +Barry,--and always smiled and spoke so kindly, squeezed my hand too +whenever I saw him, that I never thought of money. It dont signify +talking, but I verily believe, that he could wheedle the birds off the +trees with that sweet voice of his, and his good-natured look. I would +rather be put off by Barry, than paid by Mossop." In this simple +anecdote, which is a fact, the private characters of Barry and Mossop +are clearly and faithfully illustrated. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[C] Our readers will partly judge what the powers of that roan must have +been, who could beguile an erudite critic into such an enthusiastic, +rapturous expression of approbation. + +[D] The late John Palmer had one of the finest persons and faces in +Great Britain. I remember to have seen him, handsome Brereton, and manly +F. Aitkin, when in the prime of life on the stage at the same time with +Barry, when he was labouring under old age, and so miserably infirm that +he walked with difficulty. Yet neither I nor any one of the spectators +ever noticed the others, so lost were they to the sight under the +towering superiority of Barry. _Editor._ + + + + +MISCELLANY. + + +THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS, +OR +SHAKSPEARE AS HE SHOULD BE. + +NO. III. + +_Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, continued._ + + +Marcellus invokes the ghost almost in the words of Charon, who, too +charitable to suffer a man to go to the devil in his own way, thus +addressed the son of Anchises: + + Quisquis es armatus qui nostra ad flumina tendis, + Fare age venias: jam isthinc et comprime gressum. + +The sybil in Virgil gives a civil answer to a civil question, and +narrates the birth, parentage, and education of her protegé. Not so "the +buried majesty of Denmark." Disdaining to be tried by any but his peers, +he withholds all parlance till he commences with his son, and having +entered O. P. (signifying "O Patience," to the inquisitive spectator) +makes his exit P. S. (signifying poor spirit). Marcellus, hereupon, +moralizes after the following fashion: + + _Mar._ Thus twice before, and _jump_ at this _dead_ hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + +Why this dead hour? hours never die. In Ovid they are employed as grooms +in harnessing Apollo's steeds, and if there be any faith in _tempus +fugit_, how can the dead fly? to be sure, Marcellus was a sentinel, +whose duty it is to kill time: but I prefer _dread_ hour! Now for +jump--Mr. Malone says, that in Shakspeare's time, jump and just were +synonimous terms. So they are in our time. Two men of sympathetic +sentiments are said to jump in a judgment. We have also a sect of just +men in Wales called jumpers. Strange that the same motion that carries a +man to heaven should carry a Kangaroo to Botany Bay! + + ----multi + Committunt eadem diverso crimina fato + Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hic diadema.--_Juv._ + +I do not think that the modern actors who personate the ghost, pay a +proper attention to the text. It is evident from the above passage, that +the ghost in crossing between the speakers and the audience, should give +a jump, taking special care to avoid both traps and lamps, otherwise he +may "fast in fires," a little too fast. "Gone by our watch," should be +divided thus, "Gone--by our watch;" meaning at this hour, as we compute +the time. Marcellus should here pull out his watch. A man will never +make an actor unless he is particular in these little matters. Horatio +continues thus: + + _Hor._ But in the _gross_ and _scope_ of mine opinion, + This bodes some strange _eruption_ to our state. + +Johnson will have it that "gross and scope," mean general thoughts and +tendency at large. Alas! that all the scope of his gross frame should +contain so small a meaning! I prefer _guess_ and skip of my opinion; +that is a random notion hastily entertained. + +As for the eruption in the state, the reader will bear in mind the jump +of the ghost, and coupling it with the aforesaid eruption, will no +longer wonder that a modern writer couples the word jump with the Norman +invasion: + + Hop, step, and jump, + Here they came plump, + And they kick'd up a dust in the island. + +O'Keefe has a character in his farce of _The Farmer_, called Jemmy +Jumps, but I cannot with all my diligence, discover that he takes his +name from a love of jumping. Molly Maybush, indeed, gives us a hint of +his fondness for that recreation in the following distich: + + Go hop my pretty pet along, + And down the dance lead Bet along. + +But if his own evidence is to be believed, (and according to some recent +suggestions, that is the only evidence which ought to be received) he +has no penchant for it. The farmer asks him to join the village dance, +whereupon he indignantly exclaims, "What! I sport a toe among such a set +of rustics!" Upon the whole I am inclined to believe that as a +manufacturer of stays he takes his name from a part of those modish +ligatures called jumps. + +A figure of the very first water and magnitude, now makes his +_entré_--the ghost of the late king! and here I must digress awhile, and +like a raw notary's clerk, enter my feeble protest against the tame and +unimpressive manner in which that supernatural personage is permitted to +make his appearance. It should seem that our managers reserve all their +decorations for the inexplicable dumb show of the Wood Dęmon (that +diphthong is my delight), the Castle Spectre, &c. &c. The Bleeding Nun +in Raymond and Agnes is ushered in with a pre-_scent_-iment of blue +flame and brimstone. Angela's mother advances in a minuet step, to soft +music, like Goldsmith's bear, and is absolutely enveloped in +flames--none but a salamander, or Messrs. Shadrach and company can enact +the part with safety. But when we are presented with a dead Hamlet, +Banquo, or lady Anne, those impressive non-naturals of the poet of +Nature, they walk in as quiet and unadorned as at a morning rehearsal; +marching like a vender of clumsy Italian images, "with all their +imperfections on their head," and an additional load attributable to the +imperfect head of the manager. Remember the lines of the poet: + + Another Eschylus appears--prepare + For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair, + In flame like Semelé be brought to bed, + Whilst opening hell spouts wildfire at your head. + +And let us in future see Shakspeare's ghosts adorned with the proper +paraphernalia and (impernalia) of thunder, hautboys, and brimstone. But +to return--For "eruption to our state;" some people prefer reading +corruption, alleging that most states are corrupt (England, as one of +the present company, of course excepted) but that eruptions are confined +to the towns that border on Mount Vesuvius. But surely, allowing the +observation its full swing, eruption is here the right reading. The +ghost, in a subsequent scene, expressly informs us that he is "confined +to fast in fires," and from his underground repetition of the word +"swear," it is clear that those fires were immediately under Hamlet's +feet. Yes, sir, this identical ghost was the Guy Faukes of Denmark, and +but for the vent he discovered in a cranny near Elsinore enabling him to +take a peep at the "glimpses of the moon," would doubtless have blown +the crown prince, and all his court into the air, and thus have rendered +unnecessary our late expedition for that purpose. + +I find nothing upon which to animadvert till the re-entry of the ghost. +He has evidently something upon his mind, which he wishes to +communicate; but with the heart of a lion shows that he also possesses +the fears of that royal beast, for upon the crowing of the cock (a sound +most injudiciously omitted, since the death of the bantam Roscius) the +spirit evaporates as quickly as from a glass of champagne, in the +drinking of a health. + + _Mar._ Shall I strike at it with my _partisan_? + +Here performers, who move like blind asses in the manager's mill, +usually raise the right arm, as though partisan meant the instrument in +their grasp. O lame and impotent! As if a little bit of a truncheon +could bruise a ghost! What says Ossian, speaking of a ghost? "The dim +stars twinkled through his form." A plain proof of his want of +substance. So of Pope's sylph: + + Fate urg'd the shears and cut the sylph in twain; + But airy substance soon unites again. + +Some fanciful persons will have it that partisan signifies companion, as +though Marcellus should say, "shall I strike at it with the assistance +of Bernardo?" Listen to the real original meaning: + + _Mar._ Shall I strike at it with my _parmesan_? + +In plain English, "shall I throw a cheese at its head?" This agrees with +what was before advanced relative to beef, and shows that the sentinels +of those days antedating the couplet in the Bath Guide, + + He that would fortify the mind, + The belly first must fill,-- + +never mounted guard without a havresack well stuffed with eatables. + + * * * * * + +_Coffee and Chocolate._ + +Coffee is the seed of a tree or shrub of the jessamine species, +originally a native of Arabia, but now thriving in the West Indies, +where it is become an important article of English commerce. + +The flower is yellow, and the berry juicy, containing two seeds: these +when gathered have a ferinaceous bitter taste, but are wholly without +that peculiar smell and flavour imparted to them by fire, and for which +an infusion or decoction of them is so much admired. + +This fashionable beverage, almost a necessary of life to the merchant, +the politician, and the author, on its first introduction in Asia, +caused a violent religious schism among the Mahometan doctors, almost as +early as the thirteenth century, although it was not till towards the +middle of the sixteenth, that a coffee-house properly so called, was +established at Constantinople: its discovery was announced by a +miraculous legend which each sect relates in its own way. + +A dervise, says a certain heterodox rational mussulman, if such there +be, "a dervise overflowing with zeal or with bile, was sorely troubled +on observing that his brethren were not animated by a spirit active as +his own: he saw, with concern, that they were listless and drowsy in the +performance of their religious exercises, their ecstasies, their +howlings, their whirlings round, their vertigoes, their bellowings, and +laborious breathings. + +"The dissatisfied dervise, taking a solitary walk to sooth his disturbed +spirits, or cool his heated imagination, observed that the cattle became +suddenly and remarkably playsome and lively, after feeding on a certain +leaf; judging, by analogy, that the same effect might be produced on +_other animals_, he gave his companions a strong infusion of it; their +heaviness and torpor were almost instantly removed, and they performed +the parts allotted to them with exemplary activity and vigour; the leaf +so powerful in its effects proved to be the shrub from which coffee +berries afterwards were gathered." + +"Listen not to such profane heresies," says an orthodox doctor of Mecca, +"it was in the six hundred and sixty-sixth year of the Hegira (about the +middle of the thirteenth century of the Christian era) that Abouhasan +Scazali, on a pilgrimage to the tomb of our most holy prophet, sinking +under fatigue, extreme heat, and old age, called unto him Omar, a +venerable Scheick, his friend and companion, and thus addressed him: + +"Teacher of the faithful! the angel of death hath laid his hand upon me; +cleansed from my corruptions in the waters of Paradise, I hope soon to +be in the presence of our prophet; but I cannot depart in peace, till I +have done justice to thy zeal, thy faith, and thy friendship; persevere +in the path thou hast so long trod, and rely on him, who drove the +infidels like sheep before him, to extricate thee from all thy +difficulties: farewell, sometimes think of Abouhasan, pity his errors, +and do justice to his good name:" he would have spoken further, but his +breath failed, his eyes became dim, and pressing that hand he was to +press no more, he expired without a groan. + +"Having performed the last office of friendship, Omar pursued his way: +but, a few days after, lost in devout contemplation, or overwhelmed with +sorrow, he wandered from his associates in the caravan, and was not +sensible of his situation, till involved in one of those whirlwinds, +which, raising into the air the sandy soil of that country, generally +prove destructive. Falling on his face, the fury of the blast, and the +thick cloud of sand passed over him: almost suffocated with dust, +notwithstanding the precaution he had taken, separated from the +companions of his journey, without water to moisten his parched mouth, +and fainting for want of sustenance, he gave himself up for a lost man, +the stream of life was propelled with difficulty, perception and +sensation began to fail, and believing himself in the agonies of death, +he poured forth a mental ejaculation to Allah. + +"An angel of light immediately stood before him, waving his hand thrice +towards the holy city, and pronouncing deliberately three mysterious +words; a limpid stream suddenly gushed from the ground, and a luxuriant +shrub sprung forth from the barren sand of the desert; bathing the +temples, the eyes, and the lips of Omar, with the refreshing fluid, the +celestial messenger disappeared. + +"The cool stream, and the berries plucked from the miraculous tree, soon +recovered the sinking man; he poured forth his soul in thanksgiving, and +sunk into a deep sleep, from which he awoke in full vigour and spirits. + +"Omar, with renewed strength, soon rejoined the caravan, and relating +the supernatural circumstance, a mosque was erected on the spot, by the +zeal and contributions of true believers; coffee, that wonderful shrub, +the peculiar gift of our prophet, and more particularly the produce of +his favourite country, still continues the solace, cordial, and +comforter of his devoted followers." + +This singular specimen of Turkish superstition, in which the Mahometan +appears to have encroached on the prerogatives of the Vatican, is taken +from a curious book, which, previous to the Gallic revolution, was in +the library of the king of France, and presented to Louis the fifteenth, +by Said, an ambassador from the Porte to the court of Versailles. + +It is called in the title page, Dgihan Numa, that is, a description of +the world, and was printed at Constantinople, in seventeen hundred and +thirty-one, adorned with plates and illustrated by maps; the author, or +rather the compiler, was Keatib Cheleli, a learned doctor of the Turkish +law. + +"Coffee," says this enlightened mussulman, who shaking off the stupidity +and indolence of his countrymen, assumes the character of a medical +inquirer, after he had quitted that of an implicit believer, "coffee is +a rejoicer of the heart, an enlivener of conversation, a sovereign +restorative after the fatigues of study, of labour or of love; its +peculiar characteristic is, to comfort the stomach, nourish the nerves, +and to protect the frame against the debilitating effects of a hot +climate and a fiery atmosphere. + +"Taken an hour after dinner, it prevents an accumulation of crudities in +the first passages, is an infallible remedy for the horrors of +indigestion, and the megrims." + +It was not probable that so wholesome and agreeable an article of diet +would be long confined to Asia; it is said to have been introduced to +the fashionable circles of Paris by Thevenot, in 1669, but had been made +use of in London as an exotic luxury before that time. + +The first coffee-house opened in the British metropolis, was in +George-yard, Lombard-street, by Rosqua, the Greek servant of a Turkey +merchant, in the year 1652; its flavour was considered so delicate, and +it was thought by the statesmen of those days (no very reputable +characters) to promote society and political conversation so much, that +a duty of fourpence was laid on every gallon made and sold. + +But Anthony Wood earnestly insists, that there was a house, for selling +coffee, at Oxford, two years before Rosqua commenced the trade in +London; "that those who delighted in novelty, drank it at the sign of +the angel, in that university, a house kept by an outlandish Jew." + +In another part of his works, he says that Nathaniel Conapius, a native +of Crete, and a fugitive from Constantinople, but residing in the year +1648, at Baliol college, Oxford, made, and drank every morning, a drink +called coffey, the first ever made use of in that ancient university. + +This popular beverage is mentioned in a tract published by judge Rumsey, +in 1659, entitled "Organum Salutis, or an instrument to cleanse the +stomach; together with divers new experiments on the virtues of tobacco +and coffee." + +It is observed in this work, by a correspondent of the author, "that +apprentices, clerks and others, formerly used to take their morning +draught in ale, beer or wine, which, by the dizziness they cause in the +brain, make many unfit for business; but that now they may safely play +the good fellow, in this wakeful civil drink, for the introduction of +which first in London the respect of the whole nation is due to Mr. +Muddiford." + + * * * * * + +Chocolate, then, is a preparation from the seeds of a small American +tree, called by botanists _Cacao Guatimalensis_, bearing a large red +fruit in the shape of a cucumber, which generally contains twenty or +thirty of the nuts, boiled and prepared according to art. + +This highly nutritious, agreeable, and, to many, wholesome drink, became +on its first introduction, a subject of strong agitation, and warm +contest, with many conscientious and scrupulous catholics. + +Approaching in its original form, and in its alimentary properties, so +nearly to solid diet, it was doubted by the timid and the devout, +whether enjoying so delicious and invigorating a luxury in Lent, and +other seasons appointed by the church for fasts, was not violating or +eluding a sacred and indispensable ordinance. + +That party which was unwilling to resign their chocolate, quoted the +words of St. Thomas, who repeatedly asserts, that it is by solid food +only that a fast can be properly said to be broken; that if it is +unlawful to drink this liquor on fast days, because of the portion of +solid cocoa contained in it; by the same rule, wine and beer, which on +these occasions have never been interdicted, might be forbidden, as the +first contains a large proportion of the saccharine substance of the +grape, and the latter suspends rather than dissolves the whole of the +farina of the grain. + +The chocolate drinkers were opposed by a powerful party of rigid +disciplinarians, and austere devotees; a Spanish physician wrote a Latin +treatise, expressly against what appeared to him so impious a practice +on a fast day; his book, entitled "Tribunal Medico-Magicum," exhibits +much zeal and some learning; that he was strongly attached to the luxury +against which he declaims, is a strong presumption in favour of his +sincerity. + +The Spaniard's book was answered, by a cardinal of the catholic church +in a candid and agreeable way; it was the opinion of the ecclesiastic, +supported, indeed by reason and experience, that neither chocolate nor +wine taken in moderation could, strictly speaking, be construed into +breaking a fast; yet, he hoped, that such a concession, would not be +made a pretext by sensuality and wickedness, for using them to excess, +by which some of our greatest blessings are converted into curses; as +whatever tempts or occasions us to overstep the bounds of nature and of +temperance, can never be defended by the canons of the church. + +The Roman prelate concludes his rational and truly pious book, written +in Latin, not unworthy of the Augustan age, with the following words, +which ought to be written in letters of gold, in some conspicuous part +of every eating-room in Europe: + +"The infidel and voluptuary may ridicule the idea of the Almighty +Creator of the universe, being pleased, or displeased, with a man for +having a full or an empty stomach; but whatever tends directly or +remotely, to subdue rebellious passions, and subject a creature like man +to the restraints of reason and religion, cannot fail being a matter of +the highest importance to our well-doing, and our everlasting destiny +hereafter." + + * * * * * + +MONUMENT IN HONOUR +OF THE +LATE DUKE OF BEDFORD. + +ERECTED IN RUSSELL SQUARE, BY R. WESTMACOTT, ASSOCIATE +OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. + +This monument consists principally of a colossal statue of the late Duke +of Bedford, habited in his parliamentary robes. At the feet of his +statue, or rather around the fragment of rock on which it stands, are +"the seasons personified by genii, or children in playful attitudes." + +"This group surmounts a pedestal composed of granite; the sides of which +are embellished by _bassi-relievi_ of pastoral subjects. On the angles +are bulls heads; the intermediate friezes being occupied by +_bassi-relievi_ of groups of cattle. The whole composition is about +twenty-five feet in height." + +The latter part of this general description, which we have marked as +quotation, is taken from Mr. Westmacott's own modest account of his +work, in the 'Academic Annals.' + +The whole forms an imposing, and, in some degree, magnificent pile of +sculpture, and seems the worthy ornament of a great metropolis; yet it +has such defects as inform us that it has not fallen from Heaven. The +statue is doubtless meant to be stable, manly, easy, and dignified; yet +it is not perfectly these, though perhaps no other words could be so +nearly used with propriety in describing its first bold impression on +the mind of the beholder, as he approaches from Bloomsbury square along +Bedford-place. + +A noble and sedate simplicity characterizes the general style of Mr. +Westmacott's sculpture, and is conspicuous in the _tout ensemble_ of the +pile before us. The proportions of the statue and its ornamental +accompaniments, to the pedestal and double plinth basement, are well +regulated, and are the evident and successful result of study. The +bronze, of which the statue and bas-reliefs are composed, being covered +with a fine green patina (which has apparently been superinduced), would +have assimilated very well with the sort of grave, negative colour of +the Scotch granite, of which the pedestal is formed, had the rock on +which the Duke stands been of bronze, as well as the statue and +personifications of the seasons which are designed to group with it. +This rock ought certainly not to have been of Scotch granite. The +pedestal alone should have been of this material, and all that surmounts +it of bronze. Beside that real rock is almost as unscientific in this +place, as would have been the real ermine on the Duke of Bedford's +robes, or a real wig on his head; it is almost as destructive too of the +chastity of sculpturesque effect. It gives a meager effect to the +seasons, while it mars the simplicity of what would else have appeared a +grand connected mass of imitative art. The granite and green bronze, if +kept in broad and distinct masses, would have harmonized extremely well +with the verdure of the pleasure ground in which it is placed; yet, as +it is, the whole composition, when viewed from any station near the +south end of Bedford-place, detaches with effect from the air-tint of +the distant country, excites a classic and elevated feeling, and invites +the steps of the tasteful to a nearer view. + +The figure of the Duke, in allusion, presumptively, to the firmness of +his character, stands on a rock, with his right foot somewhat advanced. +His right hand is also advanced, and rests on the shaft of the plough, +while his left arm, which is somewhat too short for the figure, hangs +perpendicularly, forming a line exactly parallel to the outline of the +drapery on this left side of the statue. One side of the figure is thus +perfectly tranquil, while the other is in gentle action. What the +sculptor may conceive he has gained in effect, by _thus_ contrasting one +side of his statue to the other, he appears to us to have lost, in +losing that more easy contrast and graceful equilibrium which +distinguishes the best single figures of the ancients, and which should +not, we think, be absent from those of the moderns. If, however, +grandeur by these means be substituted for gracefulness, art and the +public are amply compensated, and the sculptor should be honoured for a +successful deviation from ancient authority and established principle. +We are only sorry to add, that in our opinion it is not. + +The features of the Duke's face are very judiciously generalised, or +_idealised_ (as is the phrase among artists) to that degree which raises +the mental character of the head, and while it retains all those +peculiarities which are essential to portraiture, renders an individual +countenance more fit for the purpose of the sculptor, and perhaps +impresses a likeness more forcibly than minute finishing, especially at +a height of eighteen or twenty feet from the eye of the spectator. The +neck is increased in thickness, so as to give an Herculean air and +character to the bust: which yet, on the whole, so strongly resembles +that of the original, that it is immediately recognised by all who +remember the Duke of Bedford's person. + +Of the drapery, the general style is broad, square, and masterly. The +peculiarities of the English ducal robes are sufficiently attended to, +and sufficiently simplified; but the ermined part we esteem unfortunate +(as much of it at least as is seen in the front view of the figure) as +it disturbs the contour of the folds, and has a clumsy and +unsculpturesque appearance. + +Proceeding downward in our remarks, we now arrive at Mr. Westmacott's +personification of the seasons, where we find he has departed in some +measure from former analogies, without, in every instance, substituting +better. + +We have already remarked that these genii have a meager effect, and have +endeavoured to account for it by supposing it to be principally owing to +the ill-judged mixture of materials and colours, of which this part of +the pile consists. Yet beside this defect, in every view but that from +the westward, these figures appear to want grouping and connexion. +Seasons, which are blended in their real existence, should probably not +be disconnected, nor thrown out of their natural order, in their +allegorical representation. No man desires to see the backside of +Spring unless Summer follow; and had Summer and Autumn been visible from +the principal approach, an association of ideas would have been excited, +more genial and more appropriate to the agricultural character of the +monument, if not to the _known bounty_ of the late Duke of Bedford, than +by the presence of Winter and Spring. By placing the two former behind +his Grace, and turning one of them away from the eye of the spectator, +the sculptor has even left it so doubtful whether he has or has not +taken the liberty of changing the natural course of the seasons in order +to effect this, or some other purpose, that we have known some persons +mistake--unless we are ourselves mistaken--Summer for Autumn and Autumn +for Summer; and others puzzled between Summer and Spring. It is true, +the seasons in our climate, are sometimes so strangely disordered and +confused, that if Mr. Westmacott should plead that in this part of the +design, he has chosen rather to imitate nature than the antique, and +English nature rather than the nature of any other climate, we should +probably be silenced. + +It may also be pleaded with great truth in favour of the artist, that in +consequence of the arrangement which he has adopted, there is in every +view of the monument, something of merit and importance to gratify +public attention. In front, there is the statue itself contrasted by the +plainness and simplicity of the unadorned side of the pedestal. On the +east side there is the most beautiful of the bas-reliefs: on the west, +the most interesting view of the seasons, and what there is behind, God +knows. The public are not yet permitted to walk round it. + +We will now endeavour to explain the symbols and metaphors which Mr. +Westmacott has invented or adopted, as well as we are able, in the order +in which they present themselves on the monument. Spring is very +properly represented as rising a wreath of blossoms and other early +flowers, among which the lily is distinguishable; the genius of Autumn +is pouring forth her abundance of English fruits and vegetables (for +there is nothing exotic) from a cornucopia; Summer, as far as can be +seen from without the enclosed area of Russel-square, has a butterfly +perched on his hand, intimating that this is the season when this +beautiful insect bursts from its chrysales into new life; and Winter +sits shrunk and sheltered by drapery from inclemencies of which, to be +strictly correct, it should appear to have been the cause. + +The character and style of Mr. Westmacott's boys or genii, are something +between that of Fiamingo, and real life. Those of Summer and Autumn +especially, possess much of infantile grace; but the genius of Winter +appears disproportionably small, and the space left for his chest so +small, when compared with his limbs, that the Hibernian punsters will be +in some danger of thinking it is meant for a personification of--nobody. +What those may be tempted to think of it who are conversant with Dr. +Hunter's principal anatomical work, we shall not presume to say. + +The bulls heads on the angles have a new and not unpleasing effect, and +are executed in a grand style; their horns are short and bound for +sacrifice as in the antique. And the frieze which runs round the top of +the pedestal is enriched, the East side with two sheep, a lamb, and an +ox; the West side with two swine and a cow; and the South side, or front +of the monument with a horse, all sculptured in low relief, and in a +style partaking partly of the antique, and partly of English nature. +Immediately above this frieze on the south side, and in the interval +between Winter and Spring, the artist has placed a lamb, which is +perfectly in season. + +Of the bas-reliefs which adorn the sides of the pedestal, and which are +in conception and composition, if not of execution, the finest part of +the whole pile, one represents the season of _ploughing_, the other that +of _harvest_; and both are so classical in their appearance, and in +design so abstracted from localities, that could they have been +discovered in Sicily, the cognoscenti would, perhaps, have sworn that +Theocritus had seen and studied them when he wrote his Idyllia. + +As associated with, and calculated to call up, ideas of humble, innocent +and laudable occupation, these sculptured pastorals are of high moral +value in such a metropolis as this, where guilty dissimulation and +insidiousness so much abound--independent of their merit, and consequent +value as works of fine art. Why do we contemplate the innocent +occupations of children, and rural life, with sentiments of the purest +complacency? Why, but because the soul is revived as it recognises its +own nature through the disguise of society, and springs back with ardour +toward a state of things on which our ideas of Paradise itself have been +rested. + +Perhaps no works of art, and no poetry extant, will more forcibly recall +what we have read and fancied of the golden age, than these bas-reliefs. +They are delightful both in design and execution. To imagine the art as +co-existing with these in such an age of happy innocence as is here +suggested, raises cold criticism itself almost to rhapsody. + +In the first, which occupies the western side of the pedestal, peasants +are resting from the labour of the plough; a yoked ox shows the nature +of their employment; a ploughman takes a refreshing draught, from his +wooden bottle, while a youth blows a horn to call his fellow labourers +to an humble repast, which a female is busily engaged in preparing. + + ----Corydon and Thyrsis met, + Are at their savoury dinner set, + Of herbs, and other country messes, + Which the neat handed Phyllis dresses. + +In the other relievo, which decorates the eastern side of the pedestal, +reapers and other peasantry are conversing and reposing from the toils +of the field. The group consists of a mower, a reaper, a harvest man +stooping to bind a sheaf, a shepherd and his dog. The principal and +central figure is that of a young female laden with corn, and holding a +sickle in her right hand, and is a most exquisite, and, we had almost +said, unparalleled piece of sculpture in its kind. In truth, the +unsophisticated, self-willed, easy, rustic, grace, of this figure, is +raised by the art of the sculptor into intellectual existence-- + + Her form is fresher than the morning rose, + When the dew wets its leaves; a native grace + Sits fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, + Veil'd in a simple robe: + +and all the characters are simple; yet free from any alloy of grossness, +while the grouping and drawing are excellent in a very high degree. +Modern art, excepting it be in the principal figure of Barry's Grecian +Harvest-home, has produced nothing of the kind, which can be compared +with this reaper, or which is so perfectly the vigorous offspring of +Poetry and Sculpture, generated in their happiest moments. + +Mr. Westmacott has wisely chosen to display the most prominent and +distinguished trait of the Duke's character, and to that he has confined +himself. He has not frittered attention as a common-minded statuary +would have done, by endeavouring to make the subject of his chisel +appear to have been every thing that is great and good: he does not +compliment the Duke of Bedford, by surrounding him with various virtues, +and representing him as having been a great statesman, philosopher, +patron of art and literature, orator, agriculturist, &c. &c. but by +seizing the principal feature of his mental character, and representing +him simply as a great agriculturist, or patron of agriculture, he +powerfully impresses one important truth, which no spectator will +forget, and all who possess the means, may learn to emulate. + +The Duke of Bedford's agricultural, is probably the most permanent, as +well as honourable and prominent, feature of his character. In his +politics, like a large majority of statesmen, he attached himself too +much to persons, and attended too little to the ascertainment of +principles. As a politician, he might soon have been forgotten, or have +been remembered with little interest, while as an agriculturist, +posterity for many a century, may with pleasure view the seasons playing +round the foot of his statue. + +The statue is in fact as much a monument in honour of agriculture as of +the late Duke of Bedford; and, observing the public interest which this +excites, we cannot but think it would be well if our public ways were +adorned with statues to other noblemen and noble propensities. + +To agriculture, undoubtedly, in every country, _the first_ of arts, in +point of time, and perhaps of importance, the first honours may be +allowed; but we deem that a sufficient portion of the attention of our +nobility and great landed proprietors has already been attracted toward +this pursuit; and among the various arts and sciences, we should not +forget that though the _iron_ arts are more useful, the _golden_ are +more precious. A taste for _fine_ art, moreover, has a certain grace of +disinterestedness, which does not attach to an agricultural duke or +great landed proprietor, constantly employing himself in endeavours to +increase the produce of his lands. + +Wherefore, though the statue to agriculture and the late Duke of +Bedford, be extremely fit and proper in point of moral social influence, +it makes other statues or other moral works of art yet more necessary +than they were. Britain may boast of many a Cornelia, but where is the +monument to the maternal character? Many a Brutus and many a Męcenas, +but where are the public enticements to disinterested patriotism and the +patronage of art? + + * * * * * + +O! NEVER LET US MARRY. + + "We want no change, and least of all, + Such change as you would bring us."--_Pizarro._ + + +TO ROSA. + + If in possession passion die, + And when we marry love deny, + 'Tis rapture still to tarry: + If that soft breast must cease to warm, + Those speaking eyes no longer charm, + O never let us marry! + + If I shall hang not on thy lip, + Like bees on roses when they sip, + And thence less honey carry; + If I must cease to think it bliss + To breathe my soul in every kiss, + O never let us marry! + + * * * * * + +THE SABLE APPARITION, OR MYSTERIOUS BELL ROPE. + +_An extract from a Manuscript Novel._ + + +"'Twas nothing more, indeed my dear uncle! No, indeed, 'twas nothing +more! Dear, dear, how could I suppose it to be any thing more? And yet I +even tremble now," exclaimed Miss Godfrey to her astonished uncle, as he +entered the house. "For heaven's sake, my beloved Frances what has thus +dreadfully alarmed you?" returned the old gentleman. "Tell me I beseech +you! I'm on the rack till I know what could possibly have the power of +alarming you to this dreadful degree. Come my sweet girl, compose +yourself and relate to me this "soul harrowing" tale; for I'm half +inclined (seeing you smile) to suppose it some imaginary evil." It is +indeed, sir, an imaginary evil, and a very foolish fear: I am very, very +angry with myself, and am seriously apprehensive, that in disclosing to +you my weakness, I shall draw down your very just animadversion; but if +you will give me a patient hearing, and not think me too circumstantial +in my narrative, I will give you then the seeming cause for the disorder +in which you found me." Do not fear censure from me my dear Frances, we +all have our weak moments; and I am convinced, a girl with my Fanny's +understanding, could not be so alarmed at a very trifling circumstance; +therefore proceed, my love; I will promise not to fall asleep over the +recital." + +"Sitting in my dressing room at work, I was surprised by a very hasty +tap at the door, which I opened, when Monsieur l'Abbé appeared before +me, with his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his +whole frame so convulsed with terror, that I momentarily expected the +wax taper which he bore in his hand would make a somerset on my muslin +dress. I begged him to inform me if he was ill? whether any thing had +alarmed him? if I should ring for his servant? He shook his head in +token of disapprobation of my last interrogatory, and in broken and +almost inarticulate accents, begged I would indulge him with a moment's +hearing. He then, with much difficulty, addressed me as follows:---- + +"You know Miss Godfrey, I am the last man in the world to be frightened +at bugbears, or in other words, superstition and I were ever sworn +enemies: I think, then, after reprobating this weakness in others for +fifty years, I have this evening become its victim; for to that alone +must I ascribe my fears. Listen then to the cause of this weakness in +me. I was deeply immersed in Horace, when I heard a knocking against the +partition that separates the rooms. I paid little or no attention to it +at first, when a second time the knocks were repeated with more +violence. I then arose, and proceeded to the room where the noise +issued; and directing my eyes towards the bed, to my infinite surprise I +perceived the bell-rope making rapid and extensive strides from one side +of the partition to the other. After viewing it for a moment, I thought +I would take the liberty of stopping the marble breasted gentleman's +progress; I grasped the bell-rope, it yielded to my embrace, and became +quiescent; I sat a moment to observe it; it remained quiet, and I +returned to my studies. The instant I was seated, the same noise was +repeated with increased violence; I entered the room a second time, and +a second time saw the bell-rope in rapid motion. I then examined every +corner of the room, without discovering the least trace by which I might +elucidate this singular appearance. I again grasped the rope, and again +it was motionless: I sat two or three minutes in the room, I believe, +during which every thing was perfectly quiet. I returned to my room, +when scarcely had I seated myself, ere the same noise met my ear, with a +sort of hard breathing. This was more than even my philosophy could bear +at that moment, and must plead my excuse for appearing before you in the +disordered state which you have just witnessed." "You must pardon me, my +good sir, for smiling," I remarked, but I really have scarcely had +patience to hear you out, so anxious am I to be introduced to this ghost +in the shape of a bell-rope! lead me to the haunted room, and you will +gratify me beyond measure!" + +"Magnanimous courage! exclaimed Monsieur, with such a guide, I'd face +e'en Beelzebub himself;" when each embracing our taper, we proceeded to +the mysterious room. My eager eye sought the bell-rope; but no sooner +did I perceive its motion (for it was moving as Monsieur had described) +than all my boasted philosophy forsook me. Ashamed to confess as much, I +begged my companion to once more stop its progress, and suppressing my +emotions, I assisted Monsieur in searching the room. Nothing, however, +which possessed animation could we discover, (ourselves excepted) and +indeed we could scarcely be said to possess it. Monsieur prevailed on me +to retire to his sitting room, when perhaps, he observed, we should hear +the noise repeated. I acquiesced, when to my inexpressible horror our +ears were assailed by a tremendous knocking, accompanied by a terrific +scream. This was more than human nature could bear. I rang the bell with +unusual violence, which brought up two of the female servants. Without +communicating my fears, I requested that the groom might be called: he +came, and thus, in a body we once more ventured to enter this terror +striking room, every corner of which was searched without success; when +the groom accidentally moving the bed, out sprung our--black cat! She +had so completely concealed herself in the head curtain of the bed, that +all our endeavours to discover anything were fruitless; and each time we +left the room, she amused herself with patting the pull of the bell, +which occasioned its motion to the infinite terror of a French +philosopher, and an heroic maiden. + +"The 'terrific scream,' was a faint groan, proceeding from a servant who +was ill in the house." + + + + +COMMUNICATIONS. + + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE DRAMATIC MISCELLANY. + +Sir, + +I send you herewith the first number of a series of Papers, the +continuance of which will probably depend upon your opinion of their +tendency to amuse or gratify your readers. + +That they may not be tried by too rigid rules of criticism--and that +more may not be expected from the writer than he means to perform, I +deem it necessary to premise that the future numbers, like the present, +are intended to consist of such anecdotes respecting the drama and +dramatic writers, as I have heretofore, or hereafter may meet with in +the course of a very desultory course of reading--of such information of +that description, as I have collected in my progress through life--and +of such remarks and reflections as they may excite in my mind. + + With sincere wishes for the success of your undertaking, I am, + Yours, &c. + DRAMATICUS. + + +_Every One has his Fault._ + +Among the best dramatic performances that have appeared during the last +half of the eighteenth century, I have no hesitation in giving this +admirable comedy, by Mrs. Inchbald, a conspicuous place. For strongly +marked characters, interesting incidents, correct sentiments, and chaste +language, I know none to be preferred to it. It appeared here, at the +opening of the New Theatre in 1793, under as much advantage, as if the +authoress had actually studied the force of the company, and written the +parts for the respective performers. I was somewhat dissatisfied at +first with one particular character, lord Norland. I thought it hardly +possible such a being could have been drawn from nature. A further view +of mankind, has convinced me that I was in error. I annex the dramatis +personę, and leave the reader to judge whether a higher dramatic feast +can probably be found at Covent Garden or Drury Lane. + + Lord Norland, Mr. Whitlock, + Capt. Irwin, Mr. Fennel, + Sir Robert Ramble, Mr. Chalmers, + Mr. Placid, Mr. Moreton, + Harmony, Mr. Bates, + Solus, Mr. Morris, + Edward, Mrs. Marshal. + Lady Erwin, Mrs. Whitlock, + Mrs. Placid, Mrs. Shaw, + Miss Woburn, Mrs. Morris, + Miss Spinster, Mrs. Bates. + +It may be heresy and schism to institute the most distant comparison +between any modern writer and Shakspeare. But if so, I cannot help being +a heretic and schismatic, for I believe that the scene between lord +Norland, lady Irwin, and Edward, in which the latter abandons his +grandfather, and flies into the arms of his mother, then newly +discovered to him, is actually equal, for pathos and interest, to any +scene ever represented in the English or any other language. Mrs. +Inchbald, it is said, intended this drama for a tragedy, and made +captain Irwin suffer death: but by the advice of her friends converted +it into a comedy. + + +_Prostitution of the Theatre._ + +Those who do not look beyond the mere surface of things, are prone to +censure managers with great severity, when Theatres, which ought to be +held sacred for exhibiting the grandest effusions of the human mind, are +prostituted to puppet-shows, rope dancing, pantomimes and exhibitions of +elephants, &c. Whatever of censure is due to this preposterous +perversion, attaches elsewhere. It falls on those who frequent theatres. +Dr. Johnson, in a prologue which he wrote for Garrick, places this idea +in the strongest point of light. + + "Ah! let not censure term our fate our choice: + The stage but echoes back the public voice. + The drama's laws the drama's patrons give: + For _those who live to please, must please to live_." + +And therefore if Romeo and Juliet, the Clandestine Marriage, the West +Indian, the Gamester, Every one has his fault, and other dramatic works +of this order, fail to afford attractions equal to Mother Goose, +Cinderilla, the Forty thieves, an elephant, or a band of Indians, can it +be a subject of surprise if the managers furnish those bills of fare, +which possess the greatest gratification for that public on whom they +depend? + + +_Samuel Foote._ + +It is an old and trite maxim that ridicule is by no means a test of +truth--and yet it is an equally ancient remark, that many a serious +truth has been put out of countenance by ridicule, and that ridicule +unsupported by wit or humour. + +In a song sung by Mrs. Cibber, there was this line-- + + "The roses will bloom when there's peace in the breast." + +Of the justice of which no man can entertain a doubt. The wicked wit +Foote parodied the line, thus + + "The turtles will coo when there's pease in their craws," + +And actually destroyed the popularity of the song. + + +_A spirited manager._ + +The latter part of the following interesting anecdote of Garrick is +unaccountably omitted in his life, by his biographer, Arthur Murphy. + +In the year 1755, the English Roscius expended large sums of money in +preparing what he termed a Chinese Festival, a grand spectacle, on a +most magnificent scale. He imported a large number of Swiss and Italians +to appear in it, which excited considerable jealousy among the London +populace, as a French war had then begun, and all foreigners were +indiscriminately regarded as Frenchmen. There was considerable +opposition made the first and second nights of its being exhibited--and +the 3d night, November 18, there was a large party formed, who were +determined to have it suppressed. Violent riots took place--"the rioters +tore up the benches, broke the lustres, threw down the partitions of the +boxes, and mounting the stage, demolished the Chinese scenery." The +injury sustained by the manager was very considerable, and required +several days, and a very large sum of money to repair. + +Some nights after, Garrick appeared on the stage in the character of +Archer, and was imperiously and unjustly called upon to beg pardon of +the audience. At this, his indignation was enkindled, and he advanced +resolutely forward, stating the injury his property had sustained, and +assuring them that "he was above want, superior to insult, and unless he +was that night permitted to perform his duty to the best of his +abilities, he would never--never appear upon the stage again." The +audience were struck with the justice and propriety of what he +said--felt ashamed of the vile scenes that had taken place, and of the +indignity that had been offered to an old, a tried, and a deserving +favourite; and by an instantaneous burst of applause, bore a strong +testimony against the rioters and in favour of the respectable manager. + + +_Moody._ + +The preceding anecdote leads me to give another of the same description, +respecting Moody, a very valuable performer, one of Garrick's company. + +In the beginning of the year 1763, very considerable riots took place in +Drury-Lane, in consequence of an effort on the part of Garrick to +abolish a shabby practice that had prevailed in London from time +immemorial. This was, to admit persons into the theatre after the third +act, at half price. Great devastation was committed on every thing that +could be destroyed in the theatre. A wicked villain took a light, and +was deliberately setting fire to the scenes, which might have caused the +death of a portion of the misguided agents in this disgraceful outrage. +Moody fortunately perceived him, resolutely interposed, and prevented +the perpetration of his nefarious design. The next night that he +appeared, he was instantly called upon to beg pardon, for an act +which merited the highest gratitude. Moody addressed the +audience--"Gentlemen, if by hindering the house from being burned, and +saving many of your lives, I have given you cause of displeasure, I ask +your pardon." This exasperated them still further, and there was an +universal outcry that he should beg pardon on his knees. Moody had too +much spirit, and too high a sense of his own dignity, to comply--and +resolutely addressed them once more--"Gentlemen, I will not degrade +myself so low, even in your opinion. By such an act, I should be an +abject wretch, unfit ever to appear before you again." This said, and +having made his bow, he retired. Garrick "received him with open arms," +and applauded him for his spirited conduct. The riot still continued, +and the manager being called for, he went before the audience, and a +loud clamour having been made to dismiss Moody for what was unjustly +styled his insolence, Garrick assured them that he should not perform on +that stage while he remained under their displeasure. He then went +behind the scenes; and, once more embracing Moody, pledged himself to +pay his salary, notwithstanding his temporary exile. + + +_Theatrical Licenses._ + +Although it is generally known that no new dramatic performance can be +introduced on the stage in England, without the previous license of the +Lord Chamberlain, it is not by any means equally well known to what +cause this regulation owes its origin. Henry Fielding composed a +theatrical representation to which he gave the name of Pasquin, the +object of which was to satirize some of the most conspicuous characters +in England, and among the number were the minister and many of his +friends. This satirical performance became very popular, and was +exhibited to crowded audiences for fifty successive nights. The +exasperated minister, Robert Walpole, was determined to repress the +licentiousness of the stage, and accordingly had a bill brought into +parliament to prohibit the representation of any dramatic performance +whatever, unless it had received the permission of the Lord chamberlain. +This act, which was carried in spite of the utmost opposition, took +from the crown the power of licensing any more theatres, and inflicted +considerable penalties on those who should violate its restrictions.[E] + + +_Mrs. Centlivre. The Busy Body._ + +The theatrical history affords numberless instances of the fallacy and +folly of dogmatic decisions, and premature judgments. It were endless to +relate the cases of dramatic performances, which, previous to their +being acted, were regarded by managers and actors as execrable, and +certain of condemnation--and yet have lived a century beyond the +existence of their judges. And the instances are at least as numerous of +managers forming the most flattering anticipations of the success, and +the consequent emoluments of performances which were, to use the +technical term of the theatre, damned by the unanimous consent of the +audience. + +The Busy Body, by Mrs. Centlivre, is a very remarkable case in point. It +was decried before its appearance by all the players--Mr. Wilkes, the +Garrick of his day, for a time absolutely refused to take a part in +it--And the audience went to the theatre, so far prejudiced against it, +as to contemplate its condemnation. Yet it was so favourably received, +that it had a run of thirteen nights; and, after a lapse of an entire +century, for it was first represented in 1709, it is still received with +applause, and ranks deservedly high among the stock plays. + + +_Gay.----Beggar's opera._ + +There is a still more striking illustration of the position I laid down +in the preceding paragraph, than that afforded by the Busy Body. The +Beggar's opera was offered to Cibber and the other managers of Drurylane +theatre, and after examination was rejected by them, as not likely to +prove successful. The managers of the other theatre had a more correct +anticipation of the issue of this production, and hailed it with joy +and gladness. The event justified their opinion--for never was there a +more extraordinary degree of success than attended this rejected +performance. It had the unprecedented run of fifty three nights, I +believe successively, the first season in London--It spread into every +town in the three kingdoms, where there was a theatre, and was every +where received with unbounded applause. The songs were printed on +ladies' fans--and Miss Fenton, who performed the part of Polly, and who, +previous to her appearance in that character was in an inferior grade, +became a first rate favourite, and was so high in the public opinion, +that she was finally married to a peer of the realm. Gay's profits by +this piece were above two thousand pounds sterling, or nearly nine +thousand dollars.[F] + + +_A Wine merchant._ + +Garrick, soon after his arrival in London, went into partnership with +his brother Peter, in the wine trade. Their circumstances were very +moderate. Foote, with whom it was a universal rule, never to spoil a +good story by a scrupulous adherence to truth; very often, at a +subsequent period, excited merriment at the expense of the modern +Roscius, by the narrative of his adventures at that era of his life. He +used to amuse his companions by telling them, that he remembered the +time when little Davy lived in Durham court, with three quarts of +_vinegar_ in his cellar, and took upon himself the style and title of a +wine merchant. + + +_Garrick once more._ + +It is mortifying to reflect how the fairest fame may be destroyed, and +the best character be travestied in the public estimation, by a jest, a +bon mot, or an epigram, which contains any very pointed allusion. The +story tells to advantage. It is no diminution of its chance of progress, +that it is in the very last degree void of even the shadow of +foundation. Its wit, its humour, or its malignity embalms it, and saves +it from destruction. It enlivens social circles--It spreads abroad, and +gathers strength as it goes: It is received as complete evidence almost +as if it had been judicially established. + +These ideas are excited by the excellent and revered character, whose +name I have prefixed to this sketch. Of his avarice Foote circulated +some droll stories, which have had considerable currency, and found +their way into most of the jest books that have been published for these +thirty years. And it has been in consequence pretty generally believed +that Garrick was a miserable, narrow-souled creature, whom the _auri +sacra fames_ would lead to any kind of meanness, and who was incapable +of a liberal or munificent action. Of him I acknowledge I had formed +this opinion: and such has been the opinion of most of my acquaintances. +It gives me great pleasure to find that the charge is totally +groundless; and that few men ever made a better use of their +wealth--none were more ready with their purse on every occasion where +distress or misfortune petitioned for assistance, or when any public +spirited undertaking had a fair claim upon private liberality. + +Malone's sketch of his life, and Boswell's life of Johnson, contain +numberless illustrious instances of his beneficence. Johnson, who was +much in the habit of collecting money among his friends for the relief +of persons in distress or embarrassment, repeatedly declared, that +Garrick was always ready on these occasions, and that his contributions +exceeded those of other persons in equal circumstances. + +Garrick's liberality in the establishment of the fund for the relief of +superannuated actors, would alone be sufficient to rescue him from the +charge of avarice. He gave a benefit play yearly for that purpose, in +which he always acted a leading character. He bestowed on the +association two houses for the meetings of the managers;--and when the +latter resolved to sell them, as unnecessary, Garrick bought them at the +valuation which was set upon them. He afterwards bequeathed them by his +will to the increase of the fund. + + +_As it was damned._ + +One of Henry Fielding's farces having been hissed from the stage, the +author, when he published it, instead of the usual annunciation, "as it +was performed at the theatre royal," &c. substituted a more correct +reading, "_as it was damned_ at the theatre royal, Drury Lane." This +laudable example of candor has never since been copied by any of the +bards whose performances have experienced the same awful fate. + + +_Vindication of Lord Rochester._ + +A miscreant of the name of Fishbourne in the reign of Charles II. +published a vile play, called Sodom, so detestably obscene, that the +earl of Rochester, then in the full career of licentiousness and +debauchery, finding it ascribed to him, thought it necessary publicly to +disclaim the infamy of the authorship. This circumstance, coupled with +the gross tendency of most of even the best plays of that time, must +convey to the reader a tolerably correct idea how far the wretched +author had outstripped his companions in the career of turpitude. + + +_An elegant translation._ + +One Gordon (not Thomas Gordon, the translator of Tacitus) translated +Terence in the year 1752, and rendered the words, _ignarum artis +meretricis_, "_quite a stranger to the trade of these b----s._" + + +_Beware of a too free use of the bottle._ + +One Henry Higden, a dramatic writer about the close of the seventeenth +century, wrote a comedy, called the _Wary Widow_, in which he introduced +so many drinking scenes, that the actors were completely drunk before +the end of the third act, and being therefore unable to proceed with the +play, they dismissed the audience. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[E] See Baker's companion to the playhouse. Vol. I, page 21, 2. + +[F] See Baker, Vol. I. page 185. + + + + +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._ + + +_DOMESTIC CRITICISM._ + +In dramatic criticism the leading characters of the play, and the actors +who perform them, lay claim to the first and most particular +investigation. Those upon whom the more enlightened part of the public +have bestowed the greatest approbation, require the most severe +scrutiny, since they only can affect the public taste. Birds of passage +too who like Mr. Cooper and Master Payne "_come like shadows, so +depart_," are entitled to priority of attention; we therefore in our +last number, travelled with Mr. Cooper through the characters he +performed on his first visit to Philadelphia, without adverting to the +other performers, except in a few instances, in which the sterling merit +of Mr. Wood impressed itself so strongly on our minds, that we could not +resist our desire to do it justice, and his characters were so closely +connected with those of Mr. Cooper, that we thought they could not well +be separated. It would indeed be difficult to discuss Mr. Cooper's +merits in Zanga or Pierre, without dwelling upon the able support he +received in them, from Mr. Wood's _Alonzo_ and _Jaffier_. We cannot, +however, drop Mr. Wood there, since we rather glanced at, than reviewed +his performances. The public no doubt expect something more from us on +that gentleman's subject: the rapid advances he makes to professional +excellence, and the large space he now fills in public estimation, leave +to the critic no discretion. Such as the actor is, he must be shown. It +is a duty which we could not evade if we would; and we should be sorry +to be so deficient in taste, as not to discharge it with pleasure. + +Of no actor with whom we are acquainted can it with more truth be said +than it may of Mr. Wood, that he never performs a character positively +ill. A judgment clear, sound, and in general severely correct, with +exemplary labour and industry, secure him completely, even in those +characters for which he is least fitted, from offending the taste of his +auditors, or rendering his performance ridiculous; an assertion we would +hazard on the head of very few if any actors in America. This is to put +our opinion of him at once at the lowest: yet even that would appear +something to any one who could conceive the disgust with which it often +falls to our lot to turn from the scene before us. + +There is not in the whole catalogue of acting plays a character more +disadvantageous to an actor, than that of Alonzo. A compound of +imbecility and baseness, yet an object of commiseration: an unmanly, +blubbering, lovesick, querulous creature; a soldier, whining, piping and +besprent with tears, destitute of any good quality to gain esteem, or +any brilliant trait or interesting circumstance to relieve an actor +under the weight of representing him. In addition to this, there are so +many abrupt variations and different transitions that it requires great +talents in an actor to get through it, without incurring a share of the +contempt due to the character. Viewing him in this way, we could not +help regretting that it should devolve upon a young actor, who could +scarcely expect to escape unhurt in it. Our surprise was great, nor was +our pleasure less, to find in Mr. Wood's performance, a pleasing marked +delineation of the best features of Alonzo, with the worst considerably +softened and relieved. Seldom is a character so indebted to the aid of +an actor as this to the judgment of Mr. Wood. Dr. Young's muse flags +most dolefully in this part, and Mr. Wood did more than could be +expected to bear her up. We could not help wishing upon the occasion +that Alonzo could have bartered a portion of his judgment for a share of +the physical powers of Zanga; both would profit by the exchange. + +In the Copper Captain Mr. Wood had a character very favourable to the +actor, and well suited to his powers and talents. Michael, however, is +one of those vigorous productions of the old comic muse in which a +player incurs the danger of overshooting the mark in his efforts not to +fall short of it. One in which while the judicious actor luxuriates, and +gives a force to his whole comic powers, he finds it difficult to +observe very strictly the _ne quid nimis_ of the critic. The correct and +chaste judgment of Mr. Wood kept the bridle so firm on his performance +of it, that we do not think he once "o'erstepped the modesty of nature." + +In his performance of Iago we thought Mr. Wood inferior to himself. How +could he or any actor be expected to get through his business under the +circumstances of the theatre on that evening. A band of drunken butchers +had got into two of the front boxes, and converted them into a +grog-shop! + +In the prince of Wales in Henry IV. Mr. Wood displayed the versatility +of his talents. In the gay, thoughtless, trifling rake, the "madcap" +prince, he was spirited, and playful without puerility; in the serious +parts, whether as the penitent apologizing son, or the martial hero, he +was judicious, impressive, and not deficient in military importance. + +Where we see so much merit, merit so entirely his own, we advert to +faults with great reluctance. But it is our duty and we must do it. Of +the contagious nature of the KEMBLE PLAGUE in acting we cannot adduce a +more lamentable proof than that it sometimes taints even this very +judicious performer. How has it been endured by the British public, how +can it be reconciled to common sense, that players who are supposed to +represent human beings, and who assume to speak and act as men in real +existence, speak and act in the commerce of the world, should +constantly utter the lines set down for them, in such a manner as no +rational creature in real life ever yet did utter them, or ever will? +Does it give force, interest or dignity to the lines of a speech to take +up twice or thrice as much time in speaking them as the most formal, +deliberate, or pompous prig of an orator would employ upon them? Why +will not actors condescend to speak "_like the folks of this world_," +particularly as they pretend to imitate them? We never were at a royal +levee--but we have been at the pains to ask several persons who have +been, whether any king, or prince, or peer spoke there, as Mr. Kemble or +as Mr. Holman, or Mr. Pope after him, speak in Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth, +&c. and the uniform answer has been that the great men at court speak +just like all gentlemen in private society. As to public orators, we can +say that Mr. Kemble and his disciples occupy one third, or at least one +fourth more time in delivering any given number of words than ever the +stately William Pitt in his most slow and solemn exordiums. Yet this +they call speaking naturally--imitating the conduct of men. + +We do not allude to proper _pauses_, in the duration of which the actor +may be allowed some little license--and an extension of which is +frequently a beauty. Thus when _Balthazar_ informs _Romeo_ of _Juliet's_ +death, Mr. Cooper maintained a pause of great length with the most +felicitous effect. He stood overwhelmed, stupified, and bereft of speech +with horror and astonishment, then said + + "Is it even so?--then I defy you stars!" + +and paused again. Here like a great artist he filled up the picture of +which Shakspeare only gave the outlines: but when, afterwards he +expostulated with the apothecary, we could see no reason why he should +deliver out the lines syllable by syllable like drops of blood +reluctantly given from the heart. + + Art--thou--so--bare--and--full--of--wretchedness + And--fear'st--to--die? + +To us the last appeared as ludicrous as the former was beautiful and +affecting. But, "in the name of all the gods at once," why this? Though +Mr. Wood sometimes falls into this error, a few of the first lines of +his Jaffier smacked of it wofully. We should find no apprehension of +laying any sum upon it, if the thing could possibly be ascertained, that +in pronouncing the words + + Not hear me! by my sufferings but you shall! + My lord--my lord! I'm not that abject wretch + You think me. + +he occupied full double the time that Barry did, or even the late +Hodgkinson, whose good fortune it was not to have studied, or seen, or +drawn one drop of his professional sap from the great root of these +abuses. It is said by some of Mr. Kemble's advocates that he speaks in +that manner from necessity--that he does it to nurse his voice in the +beginning, which else would flag before the end of a long performance. +If this were a sufficient excuse for Mr. K. we should not disallow it in +the case of any other gentleman who labours under the disadvantage of a +weak voice. But we think it is not; it would be infinitely better for +the audience to compound with the actor and allow him resting between +the speech times. The majestic Spranger Barry when we last saw him was +not only so decrepit that he hobbled along the stage, and so bent in the +middle that his body formed an angle with his lower limbs, almost as +acute as that of a mounted telescope, but was so encumbered by infirmity +and high living that upon any violent exertion of the lungs he puffed +very painfully; yet even in that state we have heard him speak the part +of _Rhadamistus_ in _Zenobia_, with all the fire, rapidity, and +animation of youth, his fine person all the time raised erect for the +purpose: but as soon as the speech was over, down he sunk again to his +angle, and puffed and blowed, while the audience, with emotions mixed up +of admiration and grief gazed in a kind of melancholy delight on the +finest ruin that ever time made in the works of nature: thunders and +shouts of plaudits filled the house; every female was seen gazing upon +the wonderful man as if her eyes were nailed upon their axes, and were +melting away with floods of tears, while he, from a face of almost +divine sweetness, gave back their love and their indulgence with +interest. He was allowed to take his own time--not in the speeches, but +between them. + +Though these remarks are introduced in a part of our criticism dedicated +to the performances of Mr. Wood, we by no means would have it understood +that it applies exclusively, or even particularly to him. There is no +performer on the American stage, perhaps, to whom they less frequently +apply; but we have started the subject with him purposely to point out +by an instance _a fortiori_ how dangerous it is to a young actor, not to +guard against a great imperfection. When he whose sound judgment and +industry may reasonably be supposed to secure him from such errors, +insensibly falls into them, actors of inferior capacity and less +industry will see, or at least ought to see the necessity of standing +upon a more vigilant guard. + +Since the subject is started we will proceed with it, though perhaps to +the exclusion from this number of some other matter originally intended +for it. Can those, who, loving the drama, and feeling its beauties with +a true classic spirit, wish to see the public taste won over to the +tragic muse, hope that it can be accomplished, or can they be surprised +that on the contrary, tragedy so often excites merriment when they +reflect upon the way dramatic poetry is often delivered upon the stage. +Let the first three men who pass by the playhouse door be called in, one +of them taken from the highest order of life, a second from the middle +order, and the third from the very lowest class--let them hear a tragedy +through, or even some parts of a comedy, and let them then give their +verdict as on oath, whether what they heard, resembled anything they had +ever heard before out of a playhouse, or perchance a madhouse, and they +must answer in the negative or perjure themselves. + +This was one of the evils which Garrick had the glory of eradicating. +Just before him, actors spoke in the ti-tum-ti monotonous sing-song way +of the new school. Old Macklin some years ago, assured the writer of +this, that except in some few declamatory speeches, or in the ghost of +Hamlet, QUIN would not be endured at that time in tragedy: and what said +this Quin himself when he was prevailed upon to go to Goodman's Fields +to see Garrick for the first time? "I dont know what to say," he replied +to one who asked his opinion of the young actor, "but if he be right, +_we have all been wrong_." Quin's integrity would not let him deny a +truth which his judgment told him in the very teeth of his prejudices. + +Absurd and _unnatural_ as this miserable mode of speech is, it is very +difficult to be got rid of, when it once becomes habitual to an actor; a +memorable instance of which was old MR. WIGNELL of Covent garden, the +father of our late manager. He was one of the Quin school, and if now +alive and able to act, would once more hitch in very handsomely with the +recitativers of the new academy of acting, for, says the author of the +Thespian dictionary, "_He possessed the singular talent of imparting +stateliness to comic dialogues, and merriment to tragic scenes._" Of +this gentleman many anecdotes are recorded, curious in themselves, and +well deserving the consideration of young actors. + +Upon the revival of the tragedy of Cato in London (Cato by Sheridan) Mr. +Wignell was put forward in his old established part of Portius. In the +first scene he stepped forward in his accustomed strut and began + + The dawn is overcast, the morning low'rs + And heavily with clouds brings on the day. + +At this moment the audience began to vociferate "prologue, prologue, +prologue," when Wignell finding them resolute without moving from the +spot, without pausing, or changing his tone of voice, but in all the +pomposity of tragedy, went on as if it were part of the play. + + "Ladies and gentlemen, there has been no + Prologue spoken to this play these twenty years-- + The great, the important day, big with the fate + Of Cato and of Rome."---- + +This wonderful effusion put the audience in good humour--they laughed +incontinently--clapped and shouted _bravo_, and Wignell proceeded with +his usual stateliness, self-complacency, and composure. + +Mr. Wignell's biographer above mentioned relates the following anecdote. +"During a rehearsal of _the suspicious husband_, Mr. Garrick exclaimed +"pray Mr. Wignell, why cannot you enter and say, "_Mr. Strictland, sir, +your coach is ready_", without all the declamatory pomp of Booth or +Quin?"--"Upon my soul, Mr. Garrick," replied poor Wignell, "_I thought I +had kept the sentiment down as much as possible._"" When Macklin +performed _Macbeth_ Wignell played the _doctor_, and in this serious +character provoked loud fits of laughter. + +The above facts contain a valuable lesson to actors, some of whom can, +no more than Mr. Wignell, _get the sentiment down_, when they have an +event of such importance to announce as _the coach being ready_. In +serious truth we are persuaded that the fulsome, bombastical ridiculous +stateliness of some actors, tends to bring tragedy into disrepute, to +deprive it of its high preeminence, and must ultimately disgust the +multitude with some of the noblest productions of the human mind. + +Two other characters of the tragedies already alluded to, demand from +the justice of criticism the most full and unmixed praise. _Falstaff_ in +Henry IV. and _Cacafogo_ in Rule a Wife and have a Wife, had in Mr. +Warren a most able representative. Having seen several--the select ones +of the last five and thirty years--we can truly say, without entering +into nice comparisons, that if we were to sit to those two plays a +hundred times in America or Great Britain, we could be well contented +with just such a Falstaff and just such a Cacafogo as Mr. Warren. + + +_The Foundling of the Forest._ + +In our first number we made a few observations on this comedy. They were +not very favourable to it; and, notwithstanding its great success in +representation, we are not at all disposed to retract any of them, +because our opinion of the intrinsic value of the piece is not in the +least altered. In representation it is all--in the closet nothing. This +arises from the conduct of the plot, which indeed constitutes the whole +of its merit. In Europe, as in America, the judgment of every critic is +at variance with the decision of the multitude upon it, for while at the +Lyceum it has been applauded by "the million," it has been lashed by the +judicious, in various respectable publications. + +The time has been, nor has it long passed by, when that body in the +community who decided the fate of every literary performance, far from +being contented with EFFECT upon the stage, condemned it, if it were not +produced by an adequate CAUSE in nature. To that body the Farrago of +Melodrame, written spectacle, and mysterious agency, would have been +objects of ridicule or disapprobation, and the just influence of their +opinions upon the public would have driven back the German muse with all +her paraphernalia of tempests, castles, dungeons, and murderers, to rave +on her native ground: except in their proper place (farce or pantomime) +they would not have been tolerated. To write only to the passions, to +expose human beings to circumstances that cannot in the natural course +of life occur, and release them by means which outrage all probability, +and to those ends to urge vice and virtue beyond all possible bounds, +and fabricate extreme characters such as have rarely or never existed, +characters either better than saints, or worse than devils, for the mere +purpose of producing horror and astonishment, and hanging up the +feelings of the multitude on the tenterhooks of fearful suspense and +painful apprehension--to violate all the rules prescribed by nature and +experience, and place heroes and heroines in situations so far out of +the course of human conduct, that the poet cannot get them out again by +rational, feasible means, but is compelled to leave their fate to the +guess of the spectators by picturesque grouping and dropping the +curtain. What is this but to reverse the very nature of the drama, +"Whose end," says its father Shakspeare, "both at the first and now, was +and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to Nature, to show Virtue her +own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time +his form and pressure." + +By such miserable expedients as these, the fascinating effects of the +Foundling of the Forest are produced. But in the management of those +materials, the author has displayed unparalleled skill. The story in its +original outline is certainly interesting, and the plot is not only +skilfully developed but artfully contrived as a vehicle for stage +effect--for such merely, has the author evidently intended it; his +arrangement of the machinery, such as it is, demands warm praise for its +perspicuity and just order, and if the alarming and horrific be +legitimate objects for a dramatist, Mr. Dimond has succeeded most +marvellously. + +The sorriest critic, however, knows that horror ought not to be produced +on the stage. The boundary that separates terror from horror, is the +lawful limit--the line not to be broken--the _Rubicon_ which when the +poet passes, he commits treason against the sovereign laws of the drama. +The _mighty magician of Udolpho_, as the author of the pursuits of +Literature calls Mrs. Radcliff, with powers almost beyond human, infused +into the British public a taste for the horrible which has not yet been +palled by the nauseous draughts of it, poured forth by her impotent +successors. One would think that, like Macbeth, the novel and play +reading world had by this time, supped full of horrors; but not +so--every season brings forth a new proof that that taste so far from +being extinguished, has grown to an appetite canine and ravenous which +devours with indiscriminating greediness the elegant cates of the +sumptuous, board and the offal of the shambles; provided only that they +have sufficient of the German haut-gout of the marvellous and horrible. + +"_Plot--plot--plot_," says an enlightened British critic, "have been Mr. +Dimond's three studies." But what shall be said of the characters. To +any one who frequents the theatre, the characters of Longueville, +L'Eclair, Gaspard, Rosabelle, and perhaps more, are quite familiar. They +are among the worn out slippers of the modern dramatists. The character +of Bertrand is a moral novelty on the stage, and not less unnatural than +novel. Unnatural, not because he repents with a remorse truly horrible, +but because, while filled with that remorse, he submits to be a murderer +and a villian rather than violate an _oath_ he had made to perpetrate +any crime Longueville should command. This unfortunate wretch is kept in +torments through the whole play, and after having by an act of bold and +resolute virtue expiated his crimes and brought about the happy +catastrophe of the piece, is left to sneak off unrewarded. As to +Florian, though obviously intended for the hero of the tale, he is a +strange nondescript, in whose language the author has given buffoonery +by way of wit, and bombast by way of dignity. The Count De Valmont is a +most interesting personage, and so is the countess Eugenia. + +Of the acting we can with truth speak more favourably than of the +writing. The characters throughout were well supported; but Mr. Wood in +De Valmont and Mr. M'Kenzie in Bertrand were so striking and impressive +that the critic's attention was chiefly attracted by them. Mr. Wood's +performance was exquisitely fine even on the first night, and every +repetition disclosed augmented excellence. In the second scene of the +second act, where Bertrand prostrates himself before Eugenia, Mr. +M'Kenzie presented in his posture of supplication, such a natural yet +terrible, picture of the humiliating effects of guilt and consequent +remorse, as could not fail to make an awful impression on the most +hardened and unfeeling sinner. In Longueville Mr. Warren was, as he +always is, correct and respectable, and Mr. Cone made much more of the +ticklish part of Florian than we had a right to expect. In L'Eclair Mr. +Jefferson was, as he seldom fails to be, diverting: But on a future +occasion we propose saying a few words, by way of friendly expostulation +with this powerful actor, who, yielding to the baneful itch for gallery +applause, is gradually sullying some of the finest talents, once the +chastest, too, upon the stage. In his Rosabelle (Mrs. Wilmot) he might +see admirable comic powers, and great histrionic skill, which the public +applause of years has not yet misled into the vulgar track--"the pitiful +ambition of setting on some quantity of _barren_ spectators to laugh" by +buffoonery. + +Mrs. Wood maintained her long acknowledged claim upon the respect and +approbation of her audience, and gained for the lovely sufferer Eugenia, +all the sympathy which the author could have hoped to excite. Always +highly interesting, one can't tell why--never incorrect or +indifferent--often extremely impressive in characters of a serious cast, +we think that comedy is her _forte_. In several parts, some too indeed +which verged upon the lower comedy, we have noticed enough to convince +us, that by a studious, and as far as might be, exclusive attention to +the comic muse, Mrs. W. would soon become one of her most distinguished +favourites. + + * * * * * + +In our next number Mr. COOPER'S second series of performances will be +attended to--particularly his _Orsino_, in which it gives us pleasure to +observe that we could not discover a fault, but all was uniform +excellence. This character we consider as making an era in the history +of Mr. Cooper's acting. ALPHONSO is a tragedy which merits frequent +repetition. + + + + +A + +NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS, + +A COMEDY, + +IN FIVE ACTS. + +BY PHILIP MASSINGER, ESQ. + + + PRINTED FOR BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD-STREET, + PHILADELPHIA; INSKEEP AND BRADFORD, NEW-YORK; + AND WILLIAM M'ILHENNY, BOSTON, + BY SMITH AND M'KENZIE. + + 1810. + + + +A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +Lord Lovell. +Sir Giles Overreach. +Justice Greedy. +Wellborn. +Allworth. +Marall. +Order. +Furnace. +Amble. +Tapwell. +Welldo. +Watchall. +Vintner. +Tailor. +Creditors. +Lady Allworth. +Margaret. +Froth. +Bridget. +Barbara. + + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I.--_The Outside of a Village Alehouse._ + +_Enter_ Wellborn, Tapwell, _and_ Froth, _from the House._ + +_Wellb._ No liquor? nor no credit? + +_Tap._ None, sir, for you; +Not the remainder of a single can, +Left by a drunken porter. + +_Froth._ Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir: +'Tis verity, I assure you. + +_Wellb._ Verity, you brach! +The devil turn'd precisian! Rogue, what am I? + +_Tap._ Troth! durst I trust you with a looking-glass, +To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me, +And take the name yourself. + +_Wellb._ How? dog! + +_Tap._ Even so, sir. +And I must tell you, if you but advance a foot, +There dwells, and within call (if it please your worship,) +A potent monarch, call'd the constable, +That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks; +Such as with great dexterity will haul +Your poor tatter'd---- + +_Wellb._ Rascal! slave! + +_Froth._ No rage, sir. + +_Tap._ At his own peril! Do not put yourself +In too much heat; there being no water near +To quench your thirst: and sure, for other liquor, +I take it, +You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir. + +_Wellb._ Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou talk thus? +Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift? + +_Tap._ I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell +Does keep no other register. + +_Wellb._ Am not I he +Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee? Wert thou not +Born on my father's land, and proud to be +A drudge in his house? + +_Tap._ What I was, sir, it skills not; +What you are, is apparent. Now, for a farewell: +Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you, +I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, +My quondam master, was a man of worship; +Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace, and quorum; +And stood fair to be custos rotulorum: +Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a great house: +Reliev'd the poor, and so forth: but he dying, +And the twelve hundred a-year coming to you, +Late Mr. Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn---- + +_Wellb._ Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself. + +_Froth._ Very hardly, +You cannot be out of your way. + +_Tap._ But to my story; I shall proceed, sir: +You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant, +And I your under-butler: note the change now; +You had a merry time of't: Hawks and hounds; +With choice of running horses; mistresses, +And other such extravagancies; +Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing, +Resolving not to lose so fair an opportunity, +On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, +For a while supplied your lavishness; and +Having got your land, then left you. +While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little stock, +Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage; +Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here; +Gave entertainment---- + +_Wellb._ Yes, to whores and pickpockets. + +_Tap._ True; but they brought in profit; +And had a gift to pay what they call'd for; +And stuck not like your mastership. The poor income +I glean'd from them, hath made me, in my parish, +Thought worthy to be scavenger; and, in time, +May rise to be overseer of the poor: +Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn, +I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter; +And you shall thank my worship. + +_Wellb._ Thus, you dog-bolt---- +And thus---- [_Beats him._ + +_Tap._ Cry out for help! + +_Wellb._ Stir, and thou diest: +Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save you. +Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! Did not I +Make purses for you? Then you lick'd my boots +And thought your holiday coat too coarse to clean them. +'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever +Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst +Live like an emperor; 'twas I that gave it, +In ready gold. Deny this, wretch! + +_Tap._ I cannot, sir. + +_Wellb._ They are well rewarded +That beggar themselves to make such rascals rich. +Thou viper, thankless viper! +But since you are grown forgetful, I will help +Your memory, and beat thee into remembrance; +Not leave one bone unbroken. + +_Tap._ Oh! + +_Enter_ Allworth. + +_Allw._ Hold; for my sake, hold! +Deny me, Frank? they are not worth your anger? + +_Wellb._ For once thou hast redeem'd them from +this sceptre: [_Shaking his Cudgel._ +But let them vanish; +For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. + +_Froth._ This comes of your prating, husband! you presum'd +On your ambling wit, and must use your glib tongue, +Though you are beaten lame for't. + +_Tap._ Patience, Froth, +There's no law to cure our bruises. + +[_They go off into the House._ + +_Wellb._ Sent for to your mother? + +_Allw._ My lady, Frank! my patroness! my all! +She's such a mourner for my father's death, +And, in her love to him, so favours me, +That I cannot pay too much observance to her. +There are few such stepdames. + +_Wellb._ 'Tis a noble widow, +And keeps her reputation pure, and clear +From the least taint. +Pr'ythee, tell me +Has she no suitors? + +_Allw._ Even the best of the shire, Frank, +My lord excepted: such as sue, and send, +And send, and sue again; but to no purpose. +Their frequent visits have not gain'd her presence; +Yet, she's so far from sullenness and pride, +That, I dare undertake, you shall meet from her +A liberal entertainment. + +_Wellb._ I doubt it not: but hear me, Allworth, +And take from me good counsel, I am bound to give it.---- +Thy father was my friend; and that affection +I bore to him, in right descends to thee: +Thou art a handsome, and a hopeful youth, +Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, +If I with any danger can prevent it. + +_Allw._ I thank your noble care; but, pray you, in what +Do I run the hazard? + +_Wellb._ Art thou not in love? +Put it not off with wonder. + +_Allw._ In love? + +_Wellb._ You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent. +I have heard all, and the choice that you have made; +And with my finger, can point out the north star, +By which the loadstone of your folly's guided. +And, to confirm this true, what think you of +Fair Margaret, the only child, and heir +Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start, +To hear her only nam'd? Blush at your want +Of wit and reason. + +_Allw._ Howe'er you have discovered my intents, +You know my aims are lawful; and if ever +The queen of flowers, the glory of the Spring, +The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose, +Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer, +There's such disparity in their conditions, +Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter, +And the base churl her father. + +_Wellb._ Grant this true, +As I believe it; canst thou ever hope +To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father +Ruin'd thy state? + +_Allw._ And yours, too. + +_Wellb._ I confess it, Allworth. But, +I must tell you as a friend, and freely, +Where impossibilities are apparent. +Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind thee) +That Sir Giles Overreach (that, to make her great +In swelling titles, without touch of conscience, +Will cut his neighbour's throat, and, I hope, his own too) +Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er, +And think of some course suitable to thy rank, +And prosper in it. + +_Allw._ You have well advis'd me. +But, in the meantime, you that are so studious +Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own. +Remember yourself, and in what plight you are. + +_Wellb._ No matter! no matter! + +_Allw._ Yes, 'tis much material: +You know my fortune, and my means; yet something +I can spare from myself, to help your wants. + +_Wellb._ How's this? + +_Allw._ Nay, be not angry. There's eight pieces +To put you in better fashion. + +_Wellb._ Money from thee? +From a boy? a dependant? one that lives +At the devotion of a step-mother, +And the uncertain favour of a lord? +I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind Fortune +Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me; +Though I am thrust out of an alehouse, +And thus accoutred; know not where to eat, +Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy; +Although I thank thee, I disdain thy offer. +And as I, in my madness, broke my state, +Without the assistance of another's brain, +In my right wits I'll piece it. At the worst, +Die thus, and be forgotten. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Chamber in_ Lady Allworth's _House._ + +_Enter_ Furnace, Amble, Order, _and_ Watchall. + +_Order._ Set all things right; or as my name is Order, +Whoever misses in his function, +For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast, +And privilege in the wine-cellar. + +_Amble._ You are merry, +Good master steward. + +_Fur._ Let him; I'll be angry. + +_Amble._ Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet, +Nor dinner taking up: then 'tis allow'd, +Cooks by their places, may be choleric. + +_Fur._ You think you have spoken wisely, goodman Amble, +My lady's go-before. + +_Order._ Nay, nay, no wrangling. + +_Fur._ Twit me with the authority of the kitchen? +At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry: +And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers +I will be angry. + +_Amble._ There was no hurt meant. + +_Fur._ I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry. + +_Order._ With whom? + +_Fur._ No matter whom: yet, now I think on't, +I'm angry with my lady. + +_Amble._ Heaven forbid, man! + +_Order._ What cause has she given thee? + +_Fur._ Cause enough, master steward: +I was entertained by her to please her palate; +And, till she foreswore eating, I perform'd it. +Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died, +Though I crack'd my brains to find out tempting sauces, +And raise fortifications in the pastry, +When I am three parts roasted, +And the fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands, +She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada, +Or water-gruel, my skill never thought on. + +_Order._ But your art is seen in the dining room. + +_Fur._ By whom? +By such as pretend to love her; but come +To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies +That do devour her, I am out of charity +With none so much, as the thin-gutted squire, +That's stolen into commission. + +_Order._ Justice Greedy? + +_Fur._ The same, the same. Meat's cast away upon him; +It never thrives. He holds this paradox, +Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well. +His stomach's as insatiate as the grave. + +_Watch._ One knocks. + +[Allworth _knocks, and enters._ + +_Order._ Our late young master. + +_Amble._ Welcome, sir. + +_Fur._ Your hand-- +If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat's ready. +We are all your servants. + +_All._ At once, my thanks to all: +This is yet some comfort. Is my lady stirring? + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Order._ Her presence answers for us. + +_Lady A._ Sort those silks well. +I'll take the air alone. + +_Fur._ You air, and air; +But will never taste but spoon meat more: +To what use serve I? + +_Lady A._ Pr'ythee, be not angry, +I shall, ere long: i'th' mean time, there +Is gold for thee. + +_Fur._ I am appeas'd--and Furnace now grows cold. + +_Lady A._ And, as I gave directions, if this morning +I am visited by any, entertain them +As heretofore: but say, in my excuse, +I am indispos'd. + +_Order._ I shall, madam. + +_Lady A._ Do, and leave me. + +[_Exeunt_ Order, Amble, Watchall _and_ Furnace. + +Nay, stay you, Allworth. + +_Allw._ I shall gladly grow here, +To wait on your commands. + +_Lady A._ So soon turn'd courtier? + +_Allw._ Style not that courtship, madam, which is duty, +Purchased on your part. + +_Lady A._ Well, you shall o'ercome; +I'll not contend in words. How is it +With your noble master? + +_Allw._ Ever like himself. +No scruple lessen'd in the full weight of honour: +He did command me (pardon my presumption), +As his unworthy deputy, +To kiss your ladyship's fair hands. + +_Lady A._ I am honour'd in +His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose +For the Low Countries? + +_Allw._ Constantly, good madam: +But he will, in person, first present his service. + +_Lady A._ And how approve you of his course? You are yet +Like virgin parchment, capable of any +Inscription, vitious or honourable. +I will not force your will, but leave you free +To your own election. + +_Allw._ Any form you please +I will put on: but might I make my choice, +With humble emulation, I would follow +The path my lord marks to me. + +_Lady A._ 'Tis well answer'd, +And I commend your spirit: you had a father, +(Bless'd be his memory) that some few hours +Before the will of Heaven took him from me, +Did commend you, by the dearest ties +Of perfect love between us, to my charge: +And, therefore, what I speak, you are bound to hear +With such respect, as if he liv'd in me. + +_Allw._ I have found you, +Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me; +And with my utmost strength of care and service, +Will labour that you never may repent +Your bounties shower'd upon me. + +_Lady A._ I much hope it. +These were your father's words: If e'er my son +Follow the war, tell him it is a school +Where all the principles tending to honour +Are taught, if truly follow'd: But for such +As repair thither, as a place in which +They do presume, they may with license practise +Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit +The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly +In a fair cause, and for the country's safety, +To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted; +To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies; +To bear with patience the winter's cold, +And summer's scorching heat-- +Are the essential parts make up a soldier; +Not swearing, dice, or drinking. + +_Allw._ There's no syllable +You speak, but it is to me an oracle; +Which but to doubt were impious. + +_Lady A._ To conclude-- +Beware ill company; for, often, men +Are like to those with whom they do converse: +And from one man I warn you, and that's Wellborn: +Not cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity; +But that he's in his manners so debauch'd, +And hath to vitious courses sold himself. +'Tis true your father lov'd him, while he was +Worthy the loving; but, if he had liv'd +To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off, +As you must do. + +_Allw._ I shall obey in all things. + +_Lady A._ Follow me to my chamber; you shall have gold +To furnish you like my son, and still supplied +As I hear from you. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Hall in Lady_ Allworth's _House._ + +_Enter_ Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, Furnace, Watchall, _and_ +Marall. + +_Greedy._ Not to be seen? + +_Sir G._ Still cloister'd up?--Her reason, +I hope, assures her, though she makes herself +Close prisoner for ever for her husband's loss, +'Twill not recover him. + +_Order._ Sir, it is her will: +Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, +And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome: +And if you please to stay, that you may think so, +There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe +Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself +For my lady's honour. + +_Greedy._ Is it of the right race? + +_Order._ Yes, Mr. Greedy. + +_Amble._ How his mouth runs o'er! + +_Fur._ I'll make it run, and run. 'Save your good worship! + +_Greedy._ Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand; again!--How I love thee! +Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy. + +_Fur._ If you have a mind to feed there is a chine +Of beef, well season'd. + +_Greedy._ Good. + +_Fur._ A pheasant larded-- + +_Greedy._ That I might now give thanks for't! + +_Fur._ Other kickshaws. +Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood, +The fattest stag I ever cook'd. + +_Greedy._ A stag, man? + +_Fur._ A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner, +And bak'd in puff-paste. + +_Greedy._ Puff-paste too, Sir Giles! +A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded! +And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-paste! +All business set aside, let us give thanks here. + +_Sir G._ You know, we cannot. + +_Mar._ Your worships are to sit on a commission, +And if you fail to come, you lose the cause. + +_Greedy_ Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for such a dinner, +We may put off a commission; you shall find it +_Henrici decimo quarto_. + +_Sir G._ Fie, Mr. Greedy! +Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner? +No more, for shame! We must forget the belly, +When we think of profit. + +_Greedy_ Well, you shall o'er-rule me. +I could even cry now. Do you hear, Mr. Cook? +Send but a corner of that immortal pasty; +And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy, +Send you a brace of three-pences. + +_Fur._ Will you be so prodigal? + +_Sir G._ Remember me to your lady. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +Who have we here? + +_Wellb._ Don't you know me? + +_Sir G._ I did once, but now I will not; +Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar! +If ever thou presume to own me more, +I'll have thee cag'd and whipt. + +_Greedy._ I'll grant the warrant. [_Exit_ Marall. +I do love thee, Furnace, +E'en as I do malmsey in a morning. +Think of pye-corner, Furnace! + +[_Exeunt_ Sir Giles _and_ Greedy. + +_Watch._ Will you out, sir? +I wonder how you durst creep in. + +_Order._ This is rudeness, +And saucy impudence. + +_Amble._ Cannot you stay +To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket, +But you must press into the hall? + +_Fur._ Pr'ythee, vanish +Into some outhouse, though it be the pigsty; +My scullion shall come to thee. + +_Enter_ Allworth. + +_Wellb._ This is rare: +Oh, here is Tom Allworth! Tom! + +_Allw._ We must be strangers; +Nor would I have seen you here for a million. + +[_Exit._ + +_Wellb._ Better and better. He contemns me too. + +_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid. + +_Woman._ Oh! what a smell's here? What thing is this? + +_Cham._ Oh! a filthy creature! +Let us hence, for love's sake, or I shall swoon! + +_Woman._ I begin to faint, too. [_Exeunt._ + +_Watch._ Will you know your way? + +_Amble._ Or shall we teach it you, +By the head and shoulders? + +_Wellb._ No; I will not stir: +Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch +That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves +Created only to make legs, and cringe; +To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher; +That have not souls to hope a blessing +Beyond your master's leavings; you that were born +Only to consume meat and drink; +Who advances? Who shows me the way? + +_Order._ Here comes my lady. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ What noise is this? + +_Wellb._ Madam, my designs bear me to you. + +_Lady A._ To me? + +_Wellb._ And though I have met with +But ragged entertainment from your groom here, +I hope from you to receive that noble usage, +As may become the true friend of your husband; +And then I shall forget these. + +_Lady A._ I am amaz'd, +To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think, +Though sworn, that it can ever find belief, +That I, who to the best men of this country +Denied my presence since my husband's death, +Can fall so low as to change words with thee? + +_Wellb._ Scorn me not, good lady; +But, as in form you are angelical, +Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe +At least awhile to hear me. You will grant, +The blood that runs in this arm is as noble +As that which fills your veins; your swelling titles, +Equipage and fortune; your men's observance, +And women's flattery, are in you no virtues; +Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. +You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it; +Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more +Than in the pious sorrow you have shown +For your late noble husband. + +_Order._ How she starts! + +_Wellb._ That husband, madam, was once in his fortune, +Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and quarrels, +Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought +A boast in me, though I say, I reliev'd him. +'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword +That did on all occasions second his; +I brought him on and off with honour, lady: +And when in all men's judgments he was sunk, +And in his own hopes not to be buoyed up; +I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, +And brought him to the shore. + +_Fur._ Are not we base rogues +That could forget this? + +_Wellb._ I confess you made him +Master of your estate; nor could your friends. +Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't: +For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind +Made up of all parts, either great or noble, +So winning a behaviour, not to be +Resisted, madam. + +_Lady A._ 'Tis most true, he had. + +_Wellb._ For his sake then, in that I was his friend, +Do not contemn me. + +_Lady A._ For what's past excuse me; +I will redeem it. +Order, give this gentleman an hundred pounds. + +_Wellb._ Madam, on no terms: +I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you; +But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever. +Only one suit I make, which you deny not +To strangers; and 'tis this: pray give me leave. + +[_Whispers to her._ + +_Order._ [_Aside._] What means this, I trow? + +_Fur._ Mischief to us, if he has malice +To return our favour to him. + +_Order._ Be still, and let us mark. + +_Lady A._ Fie, nothing else? + +_Wellb._ Nothing; unless you please to charge your servants +To throw away a little respect upon me. + +_Lady A._ What you demand is yours. +If you have said all, +When you please you may retire. + +_Wellb._ I thank you, lady. + +[_Exit_ Lady Allworth. + +Now what can be wrought out of such a suit, +Is yet in supposition. [Servants _bow_,] Nay, all's forgotten, all +forgiven. + +_All._ Good, dear, sweet, merry Mr. Wellborn! + +_Exit_ Servants. + +_Wellb._ 'Faith, a right worthy and a liberal lady, +Who can, at once, so kindly meet my purposes, +And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem +Her husband's friend! When, by this honest plot, +The world believes she means to heal my wants +With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor +Will be struck mute, and I be left at large +To practise on my uncle Overreach; +Whose foul, rapacious spirit, (on the hearing +Of my encouragement from this rich lady,) +Again will court me to his house and patronage. +Here I may work the measure to redeem +My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripped me of, +When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason. +The fancy pleases--if the plot succeed, +'Tis a new way to pay old debts indeed! + +[_Exit._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE I.--Sir Giles's _House_. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ He's gone, I warrant thee; this commission crush'd him. + +_Mar._ Your worship has the way on't, and ne'er miss +To squeeze these unthrifts into air; and yet +The chap-fallen justice did his part, returning +For your advantage the certificate, +Against his conscience and his knowledge too; +(With your good favour) to the utter ruin +Of the poor farmer. + +_Sir G._ 'Twas for these good ends +I made him a justice. He, that bribes his belly, +Is certain to command his soul. + +_Mar._ I wonder. +Why, your worship having +The power to put this thin-gut in commission, +You are not in't yourself. + +_Sir G._ Thou art a fool: +In being out of office, I am out of danger; +Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble, +I might, or out of wilfulness, or error, +Run myself finely into a pręmunire: +And so become a prey to the informer. +No, I'll have none of't: 'tis enough I keep +Greedy at my devotion: so he serve +My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not; +Friendship is but a word. + +_Mar._ You are all wisdom. + +_Sir G._ I would be worldly wise; for the other wisdom, +That does prescribe us a well-govern'd life, +And to do right to others, as ourselves, +I value not an atom. + +_Mar._ What course take you, +(With your good patience) to hedge in the manor +Of your neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As 'tis said, +He will not sell, nor borrow, nor exchange; +And his land lying in the midst of your many lordships, +Is a foul blemish. + +_Sir. G._ I have thought on't, Marall; +And it shall take. I must have all men sellers, +And I the only purchaser. + +_Mar._ 'Tis most fit, sir. + +_Sir G._ I'll, therefore, buy some cottage near his manor; +Which done, I'll make my men break ope' his fences, +Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the night +Set fire to his barns, or break his cattle's legs. +These trespasses draw on suits, and suits, expenses; +Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him. +When I have hurried him thus, two or three years, +Though he was sue forma pauperis, in spite +Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behind hand. + +_Mar._ The best I ever heard! I could adore you! + +_Sir G._ Then, with the favour of my man of law, +I will pretend some title; want will force him +To put it to arbitrement; then, if he sell +For half the value, he shall have ready money, +And I possess the land. + +_Mar._ Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not +These fine arts, sir, to hook him in. + +_Sir G._ Well thought on. +This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long, to upbraid me +With my close cheat put upon him. Will nor cold +Nor hunger kill him? + +_Mar._ I know not what to think on't. +I have us'd all means; and the last night I caus'd +His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors; +And have been since with all your friends and tenants, +And on the forfeit of your favour, charg'd them, +Tho' a crust of mouldy bread would keep him from starving, +Yet they should not relieve him. + +_Sir G._ That was something, Marall, but thou must go farther; +And suddenly, Marall. + +_Mar._ Where, and when you please, sir. + +_Sir G._ I would have thee seek him out; and, if thou canst, +Persuade him, that 'tis better steal, than beg; +Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost, +Not all the world shall save him from the gallows. +Do anything to work him to despair, +And 'tis thy masterpiece. + +_Mar._ I will do my best, sir. + +_Sir G._ I am now on my main work, with the Lord Lovell; +The gallant-minded, popular Lord Lovell, +The minion of the people's love. I hear +He's come into the country; and my aims are +To insinuate myself into his knowledge, +And then invite him to my house. + +_Mar._ I have you. +This points at my young mistress. + +_Sir G._ She must part with +That humble title, and write honourable; +Right honourable, Marall; my right honourable daughter; +If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it. +I will have her well attended; there are ladies +Of errant knights decay'd, and brought so low, +That, for cast clothes, and meat, will gladly serve her. +And 'tis my glory, though I come from the city, +To have their issue, whom I have undone, +To kneel to mine, as bond slaves. + +_Mar._ 'Tis fit state, sir. + +_Sir G._ And, therefore, I'll not have a chambermaid +That ties her shoes, or any meaner office, +But such, whose fathers were right worshipful. +'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been +More than a feud, a strange antipathy, +Between us, and true gentry. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +_Mar._ See! who's here, sir? + +_Sir G._ Hence, monster! prodigy! + +_Wellb._ Call me what you will, I am your nephew, sir. + +_Sir G._ Avoid my sight! thy breath's infectious, rogue! +I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague. +Come hither, Marall, this is the time to work him. + +_Mar._ I warrant you, sir. + +[_Exit_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Wellb._ By this light, I think he's mad. + +_Mar._ Mad! had you took compassion on yourself, +You long since had been mad. + +_Wellb._ You have took a course, +Between you and my venerable uncle, +To make me so. + +_Mar._ The more pale-spirited you, +That would not be instructed. I swear deeply. + +_Wellb._ By what? + +_Mar._ By my religion. + +_Wellb._ Thy religion! +The devil's creed: but what would you have done? + +_Mar._ Before, like you, I had outliv'd my fortunes, +A withe had serv'd my turn to hang myself. +I am zealous in your cause: 'pray you, hang yourself; +And presently, as you love your credit. + +_Wellb._ I thank you. + +_Mar._ Will you stay till you die in a ditch? +Or, if you dare not do the fate yourself, +But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble, +Is there no purse to be cut? house to be broken? +Or market-woman, with eggs, that you may murder, +And so despatch the business? + +_Wellb._ Here's variety, +I must confess; but I'll accept of none +Of all your gentle offers, I assure you. + +_Mar._ If you like not hanging, drown yourself; take some course +For your reputation. + +_Wellb._ 'Twill not do, dear tempter, +With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught you. +I am as far as thou art from despair. +Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope, +To live, and suddenly, better than ever. + +_Mar._ Ha! ha! these castles you build in the air +Will not persuade me, or to give, or lend +A token to you. + +_Wellb._ I'll be more kind to thee. +Come, thou shalt dine with me. + +_Mar._ With you? + +_Wellb._ Nay, more, dine gratis. + +_Mar._ Under what hedge, I pray you? or, at whose cost? +Are they padders, or gipsies, that are your consorts? + +_Wellb._ Thou art incredulous; but thou shalt dine, +Not alone at her house, but with a gallant lady; +With me, and with a lady. + +_Mar._ Lady! what lady? +With the lady of the lake, or queen of fairies? +For I know it must be an enchanted dinner. + +_Wellb._ With the Lady Allworth, knave. + +_Mar._ Nay, now there's hope +Thy brain is crack'd. + +_Wellb._ Mark there, with what respect +I am entertain'd. + +_Mar._ With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips. +Why, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter? + +_Wellb._ 'Tis not far off, go with me: trust thine own eyes. + +_Mar._ Troth, in my hope, or my assurance, rather, +To see thee curvet, and mount like a dog in a blanket, +If ever thou presume to pass her threshold, +I will endure thy company. + +_Wellb._ Come along. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Hall in_ Lady Allworth's _House_. + +_Enter_ Allworth, Order, Amble, _and_ Watchall. + +_Allw._ Your courtesies overwhelm me: I much grieve +To part from this house, and yet, I find comfort; +My attendance on my honourable lord, +Whose resolution holds to visit my lady, +Will speedily bring me back. + +[_Knocking at the Gate._ Marall _and_ Wellborn _within_. + +_Mar._ Dar'st thou venture farther? + +_Wellb._ Yes, yes, and knock again. + +_Order._ 'Tis he; disperse; 'tis Mr. Wellborn. + +_Fur._ I know my cue, ne'er doubt me. + +[_Exeunt_ Amble _and_ Furnice. + +_Enter_ Marall _and_ Wellborn. + +_Order._ You were long since expected. +Most welcome, sir. + +_Wellb._ Say so much +To my friend, I pray you. + +_Order._ For your sake, I will, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Mar._ For his sake! + +_Wellb._ Mum! this is nothing. + +_Mar._ More than ever +I would have believed, though I had found it in my primer. + +_Allw._ When I have given you reasons for my late harshness, +You'll pardon, and excuse me: for, believe me; +Tho' now I part abruptly in my service, +I will deserve it. + +_Mar._ Service! with a vengeance! + +_Wellb._ I am satisfied: farewell, Tom. + +_Allw._ All joy stay with you. + +[_Exit_ Allworth. + +_Enter_ Amble. + +_Amble._ You are happily encounter'd: I never yet +Presented one so welcome, as I know +You will be to my lady. + +_Mar._ This is some vision; +Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dung-hill; +It cannot be a truth. + +_Wellb._ Be still a pagan, +An unbelieving infidel; be so, miscreant, +And meditate on blankets, and on dog-whips. + +_Enter_ Furnace. + +_Fur._ I am glad you are come; until I know your pleasure, +I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner. + +_Mar._ His pleasure! is it possible? [_Aside._ + +_Wellb._ What's thy will? + +_Fur._ Marry, sir, I have some growse and turkey chicken, +Some rails and quails; and my lady will'd me to ask you, +What kind of sauces best affect your palate, +That I may use my utmost skill to please it. + +_Mar._ The devil's enter'd this cook: sauce for his palate! +That on my knowledge, for a most this twelve-month, +Durst wish but cheese-parings, and brown bread on Sundays. + +_Wellb._ That way I like them best. + +_Fur._ It shall be done, sir. [_Exit_ Furnace. + +_Wellb._ What think you of the hedge we shall dine under? +Shall we feed gratis? + +_Mar._ I know not what to think: +Pray you, make me not mad. + +_Enter_ Order. + +_Order._ This place becomes you not: +'Pray you, walk sir, to the dining room. + +_Wellb._ I am well here, +Till her ladyship quits her chamber. + +_Mar._ Well here, say you! +'Tis a rare change! but yesterday, you thought +Yourself well in a barn, wrapp'd up in pease-straw. + +_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid. + +_Wom._ O sir, you are wish'd for. + +_Chamb._ My lady dreamt, sir, of you. + +_Wom._ And the first command she gave +After she rose, was to give her notice +When you approached here. + +_Order._ Sir, my lady. + +_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth.--_Salutes him._ + +_Lady A._ I come to meet you, and languished till I saw you. +This first kiss for form: I allow a second, +As token of my friendship. + +_Mar._ Heaven bless me! + +_Wellb._ I am wholly yours; yet, madam, if you please +To grace this gentleman with a salute---- + +_Mar._ Salute me at his bidding! + +_Wellb._ I shall receive it +As a most high favour. [_To_ Marall. + +_Lady A._ Sir, your friends are welcome to me. + +_Wellb._ Run backward from a lady! and such a lady! + +_Mar._ To kiss her foot, is to poor me, a favour +I am unworthy of. [_Offers to kiss her Foot._ + +_Lady A._ Nay, pray you rise; +And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you: +You shall dine with me to-day at mine own table. + +_Mar._ Your ladyship's table! I am not good enough +To sit at your steward's. + +_Lady A._ You are too modest: +I will not be denied. + +_Enter_ Order. + +_Order._ Dinner is ready for your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ Your arm, Mr. Wellborn: +Nay, keep us company. + +_Mar._ I was never so grac'd. Mercy on me! + +[_Exeunt_ Wellborn, Lady Allworth, Amble, _and_ Marall. + +_Enter_ Furnace. + +_Order._ So, we have play'd our parts, and are come off well. +But if I know the mystery, why my lady +Consented to it, or why Mr. Wellborn +Desir'd it, may I perish! + +_Fur._ 'Would I had +The roasting of his heart, that cheated him, +And forces the poor gentleman to these shifts! +Of all the griping and extorting tyrants +I ever heard or read of, I never met +A match to Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Watch._ What will you take +To tell him so, fellow Furnace? + +_Fur._ Just as much +As my throat is worth, for that would be the price on't. +To have a usurer that starves himself, +And wears a cloak of one and twenty years +On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the hangman, +To grow rich, is too common: +But this Sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants, +Who must at his command do any outrage; +Rich in his habit; vast in his expenses; +Yet he to admiration still increases +In wealth and lordships. + +_Order._ He frights men out of their estates, +And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb ill men, +As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him. +Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never +Lodg'd so unluckily. + +_Enter_ Amble. + +_Amble._ Ha! ha! I shall burst. + +_Order._ Contain thyself, man. + +_Fur._ Or make us partakers +Of your sudden mirth. + +_Amble._ Ha! ha! my lady has got +Such a guest at her table, this term-driver, Marall, +This snip of an attorney. + +_Fur._ What of him, man? + +_Amble._ The knave stinks, and feeds so slovenly! + +_Fur._ Is this all? + +_Amble._ My lady +Drank to him for fashion's sake, or to please Mr. Wellborn, +As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish, +In which there were some remnants of a boil'd capon, +And pledges her in white broth. +And when I brought him wine, +He leaves his chair, and after a leg or two, +Most humbly thanks my worship. + +_Order._ Rose already! + +_Amble._ I shall be chid. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth, Wellborn, _and_ Marall. + +_Fur._ My lady frowns. + +_Lady A._ You attended us well. +Let me have no more of this: I observ'd your leering. +Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy +To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean, +When I am present, is not your companion. + +_Order._ Nay, she'll preserve what's due to her. + +_Lady A._ You are master +Of your own will. I know so much of manners +As not to inquire your purposes; in a word, +To me you are ever welcome, as to a house +That is your own. + +_Wellb._ Mark that. + +_Mar._ With reverence, sir, +And it like your worship. + +_Wellb._ Trouble yourself no farther, +Dear madam; my heart's full of zeal and service. +However in my language I am sparing. +Come, Mr. Marall. + +_Mar._ I attend your worship. + +[_Exeunt_ Wellborn _and_ Marall. + +_Lady A._ I see in your looks you are sorry, and you know me +An easy mistress: be merry! I have forgot all. +Order and Furnace, come with me; I must give you +Farther directions. [_Exit._ + +_Order._ What you please. + +_Fur._ We are ready. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Country._ + +_Enter_ Wellborn _and_ Marall. + +_Wellb._ I think I am in a good way. + +_Mar._ Good sir, the best way; +The certain best way. + +_Wellb._ There are casualties +That men are subject to. + +_Mar._ You are above 'em: +As you are already worshipful, +I hope, ere long, you will increase in worship, +And be right worshipful. + +_Wellb._ Pr'thee do not flout me, +What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your ease, +You keep your hat off. + +_Mar._ Ease, and it like your worship! +I hope Jack Marall shall not live so long, +To prove himself such an unmannerly beast, +Though it hail hazel nuts, as to be covered, +When your worship's present. + +_Wellb._ Is not this a true rogue, [_Aside._ +That out of mere hope of a future coz'nage +Can turn thus suddenly? 'tis rank already. + +_Mar._ I know your worship's wise, and needs no counsel: +Yet if in my desire to do you service, +I humbly offer my advice (but still +Under correction), I hope I shall not +Incur your high displeasure. + +_Wellb._ No; speak freely. + +_Mar._ Then in my judgment, sir, my simple judgment, +(Still with your worship's favour) I could wish you +A better habit, for this cannot be +But much distasteful to the noble lady +That loves you: I have twenty pounds here, +Which, out of my true love, I presently +Lay down at your worship's feet; 'twill serve to buy you +A riding suit. + +_Wellb._ But Where's the horse? + +_Mar._ My gelding +Is at your service: nay, you shall ride me, +Before your worship shall be put to the trouble +To walk a-foot. Alas! when you are lord +Of this lady's manor (as I know you will be), +You may with the lease of glebe land, +Requite your vassal. + +_Wellb._ I thank thy love; but must make no use of it. +What's twenty pounds? + +_Mar._ 'Tis all that I can make, sir. + +_Wellb._ Dost thou think, though I want clothes, I could not have 'em, +For one word to my lady? + +_Mar._ As I know not that-- + +_Wellb._ Come, I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave thee. +I'll not give her the advantage, tho' she be +A gallant-minded lady, after we are married +To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forc'd +To buy my wedding clothes, +Or took me with a plain suit, and an ambling nag, +No, I'll be furnish'd something like myself. +And so farewell; for thy suit touching the glebe land, +When it is mine, 'tis thine. + +_Mar._ I thank your worship. [_Exit_ Wellborn. +How was I cozen'd in the calculation +Of this man's fortune! my master cozen'd too, +Whose pupil I am in the art of undoing men; +For that is our profession. Well, well, Mr. Wellborn, +You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be cheated: +Which, if the fates please, when you are possess'd +Of the land and lady, you, sans question, shall be. +I'll presently think of the means. + +[_Walks by, musing._ + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Sir G._ Sirrah, take my horse; +I'll walk to get me an appetite. 'Tis but a mile; +And exercise will keep me from being pursy. +Ha! Marall! is he conjuring? Perhaps +The knave has wrought the prodigal to do +Some outrage on himself, and now he feels +Compunction in his conscience for't: no matter, +So it be done. Marall! + +_Mar._ Sir! + +_Sir G._ How succeed we +In our plot on Wellborn? + +_Mar._ Never better, sir. + +_Sir G._ Has he hang'd, or drown'd himself? + +_Mar._ No sir, he lives, +Lives once more to be made a prey to you: +And greater prey than ever. + +_Sir G._ Art thou in thy wits? +If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly. + +_Mar._ A lady, sir, has fall'n in love with him. + +_Sir G._ With him! What lady? + +_Mar._ The rich Lady Allworth. + +_Sir G._ Thou dolt! how darst thou speak this? + +_Mar._ I speak true; +And I do so but once a year: unless +It be to you, sir. We din'd with her ladyship: +I thank his worship. + +_Sir G._ His worship! + +_Mar._ As I live, sir, +I din'd with him, at the great lady's table, +Simple as I stand here; and saw when she kiss'd him; +And, at his request, welcom'd me too. + +_Sir G._ Why, thou rascal, +To tell me these impossibilities: +Dine at her table! and kiss him! +Impudent varlet! Have not I myself, +To whom great countesses' doors have oft flown open, +Ten times attempted, since her husband's death, +In vain to see her, tho' I came--a suitor? +And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Wellborn, +Were brought into her presence, feasted with her. +But that I know thee a dog that cannot blush, +This most incredible lie would call up one into +Thy cheeks. + +_Mar._ Shall I not trust my eyes, sir? +Or taste? I feel her good cheer in my belly. + +_Sir G._ You shall feel me, if you give not over, sirrah! +Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd +With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids +Of serving men; and chambermaids; for, beyond these, +Thou never saw'st a woman; or, I'll quit you +From my employments. + +_Mar._ Will you credit this, yet? +On my confidence of their marriage, I offered Wellborn +(I would give a crown now, I durst say his worship [_Aside._ +My nag, and twenty pounds. + +_Sir G._ Did you so? [_Strikes him down._ +Was this the way to work him to despair, +Or rather to cross me? + +_Mar._ Will your worship kill me? + +_Sir G._ No, no; but drive the lying spirit out of you. + +_Mar._ He's gone. + +_Sir G._ I have done, then. Now forgetting +Your late imaginary feast and lady, +Know, my Lord Lovell dines with me tomorrow: +Be careful, not be wanting to receive him; +And bid my daughter's women trim her up, +Tho' they paint her, so she catch the lord, I'll thank 'em. +There's a piece for my late blows. + +_Mar._ I must yet suffer: +But there may be a time-- [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Do you grumble? + +_Mar._ O no, sir. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT. III. + + +SCENE I.--_The Country._ + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Allworth. + +_Lov._ Drive the carriage down the hill: something in private +I must impart to Allworth. + +_Allw._ O, my lord! +What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching; +Although I could put off the use of sleep, +And ever wait on your commands to serve 'em. +What danger, tho' in ne'er so horrid shapes, +Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it, +Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer: +But still the retribution will fall short +Of your bounties shower'd upon me. + +_Lov._ Loving youth, +Till what I purpose be put into act, +Do not o'erprize it: since you have trusted me +With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest secret, +Rest confident, 'tis in a cabinet lock'd, +Treachery shall never open. I have found you +More zealous in your love and service to me +Than I have been in my rewards. + +_Allw._ Still great ones, +Above my merit. You have been +More like a father to me than a master. +'Pray you pardon the comparison. + +_Lov._ I allow it; +And give you assurance I'm pleas'd in't. +My carriage and demeanour to your mistress. +Fair Margaret shall truly witness for me, +I can command my passion. + +_Allw._ 'Tis a conquest +Few lords can boast of when they are tempted--Oh! + +_Lov._ So young, and jealous! + +_Allw._ Were you to encounter with a single foe, +The victory were certain: but to stand +The charge of two such potent enemies, +At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty, +And those two seconded with power, is odds +Too great for Hurcules. +Hippolitus himself would leave Diana, +To follow such a Venus. + +_Lov._ Love hath made you +Poetical, Allworth. +How far is it +To Overreach's? + +_Allw._ At the most, some half hour's riding; +You'll soon be there. + +_Lov._ And you the sooner freed +From your jealous fears. + +_Allw._ Oh that I durst but hope it! [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Hall in Sir Giles's house._ + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ Spare for no cost, let my dressers crack with the weight +Of curious viands. + +_Greedy._ Store indeed's no sore, sir. + +_Sir G._ That proverb fits your stomach, Mr. Greedy. + +_Greedy._ It does indeed, Sir Giles. +I do not like to see a table ill spread, +Poor, meager, just sprinkled o'er with salads, +Slic'd beef, giblets, and pigs' pettitoes. +But the substantials--Oh! Sir Giles the substantials! +The state of a fat Turkey now, +The decorum, the grandeur he marches in with. +Then his sauce, with oranges and onions, +O, I declare, I do much honour a chine of beef! +O lord! I do reverence a loin of veal! + +_Sir G._ You shall have your will, Mr. Greedy. +And let no plate be seen, but what's pure gold, +Or such, whose workmanship exceeds the matter +That it is made of; let my choicest linen +Perfume the room; and when we wash, the water +With precious powders mix, to please my lord, +That he may with envy wish to bathe so ever. + +_Mar._ 'Twill be very chargeable. + +_Sir G._ Avaunt, you drudge! +Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake, +Is't time to think of thrift? Call in my daughter. + +_Exit_ Marall. + +And, master of justice, since you love choice dishes, +And plenty of 'em---- + +_Greedy._ As I do indeed, sir. +Almost as much as to give thanks for 'em-- + +_Sir G._ I do confer that province, with my power +Of absolute command, to have abundance, +To your best care. + +_Greedy._ I'll punctually discharge it, +And give the best direction. [Sir Giles _retires_.]--Now am I, +In mine own conceit, a monarch, at the least, +Arch president of the boil'd, the roast, the baked; +I would not change my empire for the great Mogul's, +Mercy on me, how I lack food! my belly +Is grown together like an empty satchell. +What an excellent thing did Heaven bestow on man, +When she did give him a good stomach! +It is of all blessings much the greatest. +I will eat often and give thanks +When my belly's brac'd up like a drum, and that's pure justice. + +_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ It must be so. Should the foolish girl prove modest, +She may spoil all; she had it not from me, +But from her mother: I was ever forward, +As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare her. Margaret! + +_Enter_ Margaret. + +_Marg._ Your pleasure, sir? + +_Sir G._ Ha! this is a neat dressing! +These orient pearls, and diamonds well plac'd too! +The gown affects me not; it should have been +Embroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold; +But these rich jewels and quaint fashion help it. +How like you your new woman, the Lady Downfall'n! + +_Marg._ Well for a companion: +Not as a servant. + +_Sir G._ Is she humble, Meg? +And careful too, her ladyship forgotten? + +_Marg._ I pity her fortune. + +_Sir G._ Pity her! trample on her. +I took her up in an old tatter'd gown +(E'en starv'd for want of food), to serve thee; +And if I understand she but repines +To do thee any duty, though ne'er so servile, +I'll pack her to her knight, where I have lodg'd him, +In the country, and there let them howl together. + +_Marg._ You know your own ways; but for me, I blush +When I command her that was once attended +With persons not inferior to myself +In birth. + +_Sir G._ In birth! Why, art thou not my daughter, +The blest child of my industry and wealth? +Why, foolish girl, was't not to make thee great, +That I have run, and still pursue those ways +That hale down curses on me, which I mind not? +Part with these humble thoughts, and apt thyself +To the noble state I labour to advance thee; +Or, by my hopes to see thee honourable, +I will adopt a stranger to my heir, +And throw thee from my care; do not provoke me. + +_Marg._ I will not, sir; mould me which way +you please. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Sir G._ How! interrupted? + +_Greedy._ 'Tis matter of importance. +The cook, sir, is self-will'd, and will not learn +From my experience. There's a fawn brought in, sir, +And for my life, I cannot make him roast it +With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it: +And, sir, we wise men know, without the dumpling +'Tis not worth three pence. + +_Sir G._ 'Would it were whole in thy belly, +To stuff it out; cook it any way--pr'ythee, leave me. + +_Greedy._ Without order for the dumpling? + +_Sir. G._ Let it be dumpled +Which way thou wilt: or, tell him I will scald him +In his own cauldron. + +_Greedy._ I had lost my stomach, +Had I lost my mistress's dumpling; I'll give ye thanks for't. + +_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ But to our business, Meg; you have heard who dines here? + +_Marg._ I have, sir. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis an honourable man. +A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment +Of soldiers; and what's rare, is one himself; +A bold and understanding one; and to be +A lord, and a good leader in one volume, +Is granted unto few, but such as rise up, +The kingdom's glory. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Greedy._ I'll resign my office, +If I be not better obey'd. + +_Sir G._ 'Slight, art thou frantic? + +_Greedy._ Frantic! 'twould make me frantic and stark mad, +Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too, +Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw for. +There are a dozen of woodcocks, +For which he has found out +A new device for sauce, and will not dish 'em +With toast and butter. + +_Sir G._ Cook, rogue, obey him. +I have given the word, pray you, now, remove yourself +To a collar of brawn, and trouble me no farther. + +_Greedy._ I will; and meditate what to eat at dinner, +For my guts have been in the kitchen this half hour. [_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ And, as I said, Meg, when this gull disturb'd us, +This honourable lord, this colonel, +I would have thy husband. + +_Marg._ There's too much disparity +Between his quality and mine, to hope it. + +_Sir G._ I more than hope it, and doubt not to effect it. +Be thou no enemy to thyself; my wealth +Shall weigh his titles down, and make you equals. +Now for the means to assure him thine, observe me; +Remember he's a courtier, and a soldier, +And not to be trifled with; and therefore, when +He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it. +This mincing modesty hath spoil'd many a match +By a first refusal, in vain after hop't for. + +_Marg._ You'll have me, sir, preserve the distance that +Confines a virgin? + +_Sir G._ Virgin me no virgins. +I will have you lose that name, or you lose me; +I will have you private; start not, I say, private. + +_Marg._ Though you can dispense +With your honour, I must guard my own. +This is not the way to make me his wife. +My modest breeding yielded up so soon, +Cannot but assure him, +I, that am light to him, will not hold weight +When tempted by others: so in judgment, +When to his will I have given up my honour, +He must, and will, forsake me. + +_Sir G._ How! forsake thee? +Do I wear a sword for fashion? or is this arm +Shrunk up, or wither'd? Does there live a man +Of that large list I have encounter'd with, +Can truly say I e'er gave inch of ground, +Not purchas'd with his blood that did oppose me? +Forsake thee when the thing is done! he dares not. +Though all his captains, echoes to his will, +Stood arm'd by his side, to justify the wrong, +Spite of his lordship, I will make him render +A bloody and a strict account; and force him, +By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour; +I have said it. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +_Mar._ Sir, the man of honour's come, +Newly alighted. + +_Sir G._ In, without reply, +And do as I command, or thou art lost. + +_Exit_ Margaret. + +Is the loud music, I gave order for, +Ready to receive him? + +_Mar._ 'Tis, sir. + +_Sir G._ Let 'em sound +A princely welcome. [_Exit_ Marall.) Roughness awhile leave me; +For fawning now, a stranger to my nature, +Must make way for me. + +_Enter_ Lovell, Allworth, Marall, _and_ Greedy. + +_Lov._ Sir, you meet your trouble. + +_Sir G._ What you are pleased to style so is an honour +Above my worth and fortunes. + +_Allw._ Strange! so humble. + +_Sir G._ A justice of peace, my lord. + +[_Presents_ Greedy to _him_. + +_Lov._ Your hand, good sir. + +_Greedy._ This is a lord; and some think this is a favour; +But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Room for my lord. + +_Lov._ I miss, sir, your fair daughter, +To crown my welcome. + +_Sir G._ May it please my lord +To taste a glass of Greek wine first; and suddenly +She shall attend my lord. + +_Lov._ You'll be obey'd, sir. + +[_Exeunt all but_ Sir Giles. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis to my wish; as soon as come, ask for her! +Why, Meg! Meg Overreach! + +_Enter_ Margaret. + +How! Tears in your eyes? +Hah! dry 'em quickly, or I'll dig 'em out. +Is this a time to whimper? Meet that greatness +That flies into thy bosom; think what tis +For me to say, my honourable daughter: +No more but be instructed, or expect-- +He comes. + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Greedy. + +A black-brow'd girl, my lord. + +_Lov._ As I live, a rare one! + +_Sir G._ That kiss +Came twanging off, I like it: quit the room. + +_Exit_ Greedy. + +A little bashful, my good lord: but you, +I hope, will teach her boldness. + +_Lov._ I am happy +In such a scholar: but---- + +_Sir G._ I am past learning, +And therefore leave you to yourselves: remember-- + +_Exit_ Sir Giles. + +_Lov._ You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous +To have you change the barren name of virgin +Into a hopeful wife. + +_Marg._ His haste, my lord, +Holds no power o'er my will. + +_Lov._ But o'er your duty---- + +_Marg._ Which forc'd too much may break. + +_Lov._ Bend rather, sweetest: +Think of your years. + +_Marg._ Too few to match with yours: + +_Lov._ Do you think I am old? + +_Marg._ I am sure, I am too young. + +_Lov._ I can advance you. + +_Marg._ To a hill of sorrow; +Where every hour I may expect to fall, +But never hope firm footing. You are noble; +I of low descent, however rich. +O my good lord, I could say more, but that +I dare not trust these walls. + +_Lov._ 'Pray you, trust my ear, then. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, _listening_. + +_Sir G._ Close at it! whispering! this is excellent! +And, by their postures, a consent on both parts. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Greedy._ Sir Giles! Sir Giles! + +_Sir G._ The great fiend stop that clapper! + +_Greedy._ It must ring out, sir, when my belly rings noon. +The bak'd meats are ran out, the roast turn'd powder. + +_Sir G._ Stop your insatiate jaws, or +I shall powder you. + +_Greedy._ Beat me to dust, I care not; +In such a cause as this I'll die martyr. + +_Sir G._ Disturb my lord, when he is in discourse? + +_Greedy._ Is't a time to talk +When we should have been munching? + +_Sir G._ Peace, villain! peace! shall we break a bargain +Almost made up? Vanish I say. + +_Thrusts_ Greedy _off_. + +_Lov._ Lady, I understand you: Overreach. +Rest most happy in your choice. Believe it, +I'll be a careful pilot to direct +Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety. + +_Marg._ So shall your honour save two lives, and bind us +Your slaves forever. + +_Lov._ I am in the act rewarded, +Since it is good; howe'er you must put on +An amorous carriage towards me, to delude +Your subtle father. + +_Marg._ I am bound to that. + +_Lov._ Now break off our conference,--Sir Giles +Where is Sir Giles? + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy, Allworth, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ My noble lord; and how +Does your lordship find her? + +_Lov._ Apt, Sir Giles, and coming, +And I like her the better. + +_Sir G._ So do I too. + +_Lov._ Yet, should we take forts at the first assault, +'Twere poor in the defendant. I must confirm her? +With a love-letter or two, which I must have +Deliver'd by my page, and you give way to't. + +_Sir G._ With all my soul.--A towardly gentleman! +Your hand, good Mr. Allworth; know my house +Is ever open to you. + +_Allw._ 'Twas still shut till now. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Well done, well done, my honourable daughter, +Thou'rt so already: know this gentle youth, +And cherish him, my honourable daughter. + +_Sir G._ What noise? + +_Greedy._ More stops +Before we go to dinner! O my guts! + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth _and_ Wellborn. + +_Lady. A._ If I find welcome, +You share in it; if not, I'll back again, +Now I know your ends! for I come arm'd for all +Can be objected. + +_Lov._ How! the Lady Allworth? + +_Sir G._ And thus attended! + +_Mar._ No, I am a dolt; +the spirit of lies had entered me! + +Lovell _salutes_ Lady Allworth, _who salutes_ Margaret. + +_Sir G._ Peace, patch, +'Tis more than wonder, an astonishment +That does possess me wholly. + +_Lov._ Noble Lady, +This is a favour to prevent my visit, +The service of my life can never equal. + +_Lady A._ My lord, I laid wait for you, and much hop'd +You would have made my poor house your first inn: +And therefore, doubting that you might forget me, +Or too long dwell here, having such ample cause, +In this unequal beauty, for your stay; +And fearing to trust any but myself +With the relation of my service to you, +I borrow'd so much from my long restraint, +And took the air in person to invite you. + +_Lov._ Your bounties are so great, they rob me, madam, +Of words to give you thanks. + +_Lady A._ Good Sir Giles Overreach! [_Salutes him._ +How dost thou, Marall? Lik'd you my meat so ill, +You'll dine no more with me? + +_Greedy._ I will when you please, +And it like your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ When you please, Mr. Greedy; +If meat can do it, you shall be satisfied; +And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge +This gentleman; howe'er his outside's coarse, + +_Presents_ Wellborn. + +His inward linings are as fine and fair +As any man's. Wonder not I speak at large: +And howsoe'er his humour carries him +To be thus accoutr'd; or what taint soe'er, +For his wild life has stuck upon his fame; +He may, ere long, with boldness rank himself +With some that have condemn'd him. Sir Giles Overreach, +If I am Welcome, bid him so. + +_Sir G._ My nephew! +He hath been too long a stranger: 'faith you have. +Pray let it be mended. + +[Lovell _conferring with_ Wellborn. + +_Mar._ Why, sir, what do you mean? +This is rogue Wellborn, monster, prodigy, +That should hang or drown himself, no man of worship, +Much less your nephew. + +_Sir G._ Well, sirrah, we shall reckon +For this hereafter. + +_Mar._ I'll not lose my jeer, +Though I be beaten dead for it. + +_Wellb._ Let my silence plead +In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure +Offer itself, to hear a full relation +Of my poor fortunes. + +_Lov._ I would hear and help them. [_Bell rings._ + +_Sir G._ Your dinner waits you. + +_Lov._ 'Pray you, lead, we follow. + +_Lady A._ Nay, you are my guest? Come, dear +Mr. Wellborn. [_Exeunt all but Greedy._ + +_Greedy._ Dear Mr. Wellborn! so she said; Heav'n! aven! +If my belly would give me leave, I could ruminate +All day on this: I have granted twenty warrants +To have him committed, from all prisons in the shire, +To Nottingham jail! and now, dear Mr. Wellborn! +And my good nephew!--But I play the fool +To stand here prating, and forget my dinner. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +Are they set, Marall? + +_Mar._ Long since; pray you a word, sir. + +_Greedy._ No wording now. + +_Mar._ In troth, I must: my master, +Knowing you are his good friend, makes bold with you, +And does entreat you, more guests being come in +Than he expected, especially his nephew, +The table being too full, you would excuse him, +And sup with him on the cold meat. + +_Greedy._ How! no dinner +After all my care? + +_Mar._ 'Tis but a penance for +A meal; besides, you have broke your fast. + +_Greedy._ That was +But a bit to stay my stomach. A man in commission +Give place to a tatterdemallion! + +_Mar._ No big words, sir. +Should his worship hear you---- + +_Greedy._ Loose my dumpling too; +And butter'd toasts and woodcocks? + +_Mar._ Come, have patience, +If you will dispense a little with your justiceship, +And sit with the waiting woman, you'll have dumpling, +Woodcock, and butter'd toasts too. + +_Greedy._ This revives me: +I will gorge there sufficiently. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, _as from dinner._ + +_Sir G._ She's caught! O woman! she neglect my lord, +And all her compliments apply to Wellborn! +The garment of her widowhood laid by, +She now appears as glorious as the spring. +Her eyes fix'd on him; in the wine she drinks, +He being her pledge, she sends him burning kisses, +She leaves my meat to feed upon his looks; +And, if in our discourse he be but nam'd, +From her a deep sigh follows. But why grieve I +At this? It makes for me; if she prove his, +All that is hers, is mine, as I will work him. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +_Mar._ Sir, the whole board is troubled at your rising. + +_Sir G._ No matter, I'll excuse it; pr'ythee, Marall, +watch an occasion to invite my nephew +To speak with me in private. + +_Mar._ Who, the rogue, +The lady scorn'd to look on? + +_Sir G._ Hold your peace! +My good lord, +Excuse my manners. + +_Enter_ Lovell, Margaret, _and_ Allworth. + +_Lov._ There needs none, Sir Giles; +I may ere long say father, when it please +My dearest mistress to give warrant to it. + +_Sir G._ She shall seal to it my lord, and make me happy. + +_Marg._ My lady-- + +_Enter_ Wellborn _and_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ My thanks, Sir Giles, +for my entertainment. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis your nobleness +To think it such. + +_Lady A._ I must do you a farther wrong, +In taking away your honourable guest. + +_Lov._ I wait on you, madam: farewell good Sir Giles. + +_Lady A._ Nay, come, Mr. Wellborn, +I must not leave you behind, in sooth, I must not. + +_Sir G._ Rob me not, madam, of all joys at once. +Let my nephew stay behind: he shall have my coach, +And, after some small conference between us, +Soon overtake your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ Stay not long, sir. + +_Lov._ You shall every day hear from me, +By my faithful page. [_To_ Margaret. + +_Allw._'Tis a service I am proud of. + +[_Exeunt_ Lovell, Lady Allworth, Allworth, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ Daughter, to your chamber. + +[_Exit_ Margaret. + +You may wonder, nephew, +After so long an enmity between us, +I shall desire your friendship. + +_Wellb._ So I do, sir: +Tis strange to me. + +_Sir G._ But I'll make it no wonder; +And, what is more, unfold my nature to you. +We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen, +Past hope, sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand +To lift 'em up, but rather set our feet +Upon their heads, to press 'em to the bottom; +As I must yield, with you I practis'd it: +But now I see you in a way to rise, +I can and will, assist you. This rich lady +(And I am glad of't) is enamour'd of you. + +_Wellb._ No such thing: +Compassion, rather, sir. + +_Sir G._ Well, in a word, +Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen +No more in this base shape; nor shall she say, +She married you like a beggar, or in debt. + +_Wellb._ He'll run into the noose, and save my labour! [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ You have a trunk of rich clothes, not far hence, +In pawn; I will redeem 'em: and, that no clamour +May taint your credit for your debts, +You shall have a thousand pounds to cut 'em off, +And go a freeman to the wealthy lady. + +_Wellb._ This done, sir, out of love, and no ends else-- + +_Sir G._ As it is, nephew. + +_Wellb._ Binds me still your servant. + +_Sir G._ No compliments; you are staid for: ere you've supp'd, +You shall hear from me. My coach, knaves! for my nephew: +Tomorrow I will visit you. + +_Wellb._ Here's an uncle +In a man's extremes? how much they do belie you, +That say you are hard hearted! + +_Sir G._ My deeds, nephew, +Shall speak my love; what men report, I weigh not. + +[_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE I--_A Chamber_ in Lady Allworth's _House_. + +Lovell _and_ Allworth _discovered_. + +_Lov._ 'Tis well. I now discharge you +From farther service. Mind your own affairs; +I hope they will prove successful. + +_Allw._ What is blest +With your good wish, my lord, cannot but prosper. +Let after-times report, and to your honour, +How much I stand engag'd; for I want language +To speak my debt: yet if a tear or two +Of joy, for your much goodness, can supply +My tongue's defects, I could---- + +_Lov._ Nay, do not melt: +This ceremonial of thanks to me's superfluous. + +_Sir G._ [_Within._] Is my lord stirring? + +_Lov._ 'Tis he! Oh, here's your letter; let him in. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles, Greedy, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ A good day to my lord. + +_Lov._ You are an early riser, Sir Giles. + +_Sir G._ And reason, to attend to your lordship. + +_Lov._ And you too, Mr. Greedy, up so soon? + +_Greedy._ In troth, my lord, after the sun is up +I cannot sleep; for I have a foolish stomach, +That croaks for breakfast. With your lordship's favour, +I have a serious question to demand +Of my worthy friend, Sir Giles. + +_Lov._ Pray you, use your pleasure. + +_Greedy._ How far, Sir Giles, and 'pray you, answer me +Upon your credit, hold you it to be, +From your manor-house, to this of my Lady Allworth's? + +_Sir G._ Why, some four miles. + +_Greedy._ How! four miles, good Sir Giles? +Upon your reputation think better; +For four miles riding +Could not have rais'd so huge an appetite +As I feel gnawing on me. + +_Mar._ Whether you ride +Or go a-foot, you are that way still provided, +And it please your worship. + +_Sir G._ How now, sirrah! prating +Before my lord! no difference? go to my nephew, +See all his debts discharged, and help his worship +To fit on his rich suit. + +_Mar._ I may fit you too. [_Exit_ Marall. + +_Lov._ I have writ this morning +A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter. + +_Sir G._ Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already. +Sweet Mr. Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry +To her presence, I warrant you; and there plead +For my good lord, if you shall find occasion. +That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a license, +Still, by this token. I'll have it despatch'd, +And suddenly, my lord: that I may say, +My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter. + +_Greedy._ Take my advice, young gentleman; get your breakfast. +'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting. I'll eat with you; +And that abundantly. + +_Sir G._ Some fury's in that gut: +Hungry again? Did you not devour this morning +A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester oysters? + +_Greedy._ Why, that was, sir, only to scour my stomach, +A kind of preparative. +I am no camelion, to feed on air; but love +To see the board well spread, +Groaning under the heavy burden of the beast +That cheweth the cud, and the fowl +That cleaveth the air. Come, young gentleman, +I will not have you feed alone, while I am here. + +_Lov._ Haste your return. + +_Allw._ I will not fail, my lord. + +_Greedy._ Nor I, to line +My Christmas coffer. + +[_Exeunt_ Greedy _and_ Allworth. + +_Sir G._ To my wish, we're private, +I come not to make offer with my daughter +A certain portion; that were poor and trivial: +In one word, I pronounce all that is mine, +In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods, +With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have +One motive to induce you to believe +I live too long, since every year I'll add +Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too. + +_Lov._ You are a right kind father. + +_Sir G._ You shall have reason +To think me such. How do you like this seat? +It is well wooded, and well water'd, the acres +Fertile and rich; would it not serve for change, +To entertain your friends in a summer's progress? +What thinks my noble lord? + +_Lov._ 'Tis a wholesome air, +And well built; and she, that's mistress of it, +Worthy the large revenue. + +_Sir G._ She the mistress? +It may be so for a time; but let my lord +Say only, that he but like it, and would have it, +I say, ere long 'tis his. + +_Lov._ Impossible! + +_Sir G._ You do conclude too fast, not knowing me, +Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone +The lady Allworth's lands; for those, once Wellborn's +(As by her dotage on him I know they will be,) +Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's +In all the shire, and say they lie convenient, +And useful for your lordship, and once more +I say aloud, they are yours. + +_Lov._ I dare not own +What's by unjust and cruel means extorted. +My fame and credit are more dear to me, +Than to expose 'em to be censur'd by +The public voice. + +_Sir G._ You run, my lord, no hazard; +Your reputation, shall stand as fair +In all good men's opinions, as now: +Nor can my actions, though condemned for ill, +Cast any foul aspersion upon yours. +For though I do contemn report myself, +As a mere sound; I still will be so tender +Of what concerns you in all points of honour, +That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, +Nor your unquestioned integrity, +Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot; +All my ambition is to have my daughter +Right honourable, which my lord can make her: +And might I live to dance upon my knee +A young Lord Lovell, born by her unto you, +I write _nil ultra_ to my proudest hopes. + +_Lov._ Are you not frightened with the imprecations +And curses of whole families, made wretched +By such practices? + +_Sir G._ Yes, as rocks are, +When foamy billows split themselves against +Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is mov'd, +When wolves, with hunger pin'd, howl at her brightness. +I am of a solid temper, and like these +Steer on a constant course: with mine own sword, +If called into the field, I can make that right, +Which fearful enemies murmur'd at as wrong. +Nay, when my ears are pierc'd with widow's cries. +And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold, +I only think what 'tis, to have my daughter +Right Honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm, +Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, +Or the least sting of conscience. +In one word, therefore, +Is it a match my lord? + +_Lov._ I hope that is past doubt now. + +_Sir G._ Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind here, +Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter, +Shall make me study aught but your advancement +One story higher. An earl! if gold can do it. +Dispute not my religion, nor my faith, +Though I am borne thus headlong to my will; +You may make choice of what belief you please, +To me thy are equal; so, my lord, good morrow. + +[_Exit._ + +_Lov._ He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear +Such a monster! I, that have liv'd a soldier, +And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted, +To hear this horrid beast, I'm bath'd all over +In a cold sweat; yet, like a mountain, he +Is no more shaken than Olympus is, +When angry Boreas loads his double head +With sudden drifts of snow. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ 'Save you, my lord. +Disturb I not your privacy? + +_Lov._ No, good madam; +For your own sake, I am glad you came no sooner. +Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Overreach, +Made such a plain discovery of himself, +And read this morning such a devilish mattins. +That I should think it a sin, next to his, +But to repeat it. + +_Lady A._ I ne'er press'd, my lord, +On others privacies; yet, against my will, +Walking, for health's sake, in the gallery +Adjoining to our lodgings, I was made +(So loud and vehement he was) partaker +Of his tempting offers. But, +My good lord, If I may use my freedom, +As to an honour'd friend---- + +_Lov._ You lessen else +Your favour to me. + +_Lady A._ I dare then say thus: +(However common men +Make sordid wealth the object and sole end +Of their industrious aims), 'twill not agree +With those of noble blood, of fame and honour. + +_Lov._ Madam, 'tis confess'd; +But what infer you from it? + +_Lady A._ This, my lord: I allow +The heir of Sir Giles Overreach, Margaret, +A maid well qualified, and the richest match +Our north part can boast of; yet she cannot, +With all she brings with her fill their mouths, +That never will forget who was her father; +Or that my husband Allworth's lands, and Wellborn's, +(How wrung from both needs no repetition,) +Were real motives, that more work'd your lordship +To join your families, than her form and virtues. +You may conceive the rest. + +_Lov._ I do, sweet madam; +And long since have consider'd it. +And this my resolution, mark me, madam; +Were Overreach's 'states thrice centupled; his daughter +Millions of degrees much fairer than she is, +I would not so adulterate my blood +By marrying Margaret. In my own tomb +I will inter my name first. + +_Lady A._ Why then, my lord, pretend you marriage to her? +Dissimulation but ties false knots +On that straight line, by which you hitherto +Have measured all your actions. + +_Lov._ I make answer, +And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have you, +That since your husband's death have liv'd a strict +And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given yourself +To visits and entertainments? Think you, madam, +'Tis not grown public conference? or the favours +Which you too prodigally have thrown on Wellborn, +Incur not censure? + +_Lady A._ I am innocent here; and, on my life, I swear +My ends are good. + +_Lov._ On my soul, so are mine +To Margaret; but leave both to the event: +And now this friendly privacy does serve +But as an offer'd means unto ourselves +To search each other farther; you have shown +Your care of me, I my respect to you. +Deny me not, but still in chaste words, madam, +An afternoon's discourse. + +_Lady A._ Affected modesty might deny your suit, +But such your honour; I accept it, lord. +My tongue unworthy can't belie my heart. +I shall attend your lordship. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Landscape before_ Tapwell's _House_. + +_Enter_ Tapwell _and_ Froth. + +_Tap._ Undone, undone! this was your counsel, Froth. + +_Froth._ Mine! I defy thee: did not Master Marall +(He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command us +(On pain of Sir Giles Overreach's displeasure) +To turn the gentleman out of doors? + +_Tap._ 'Tis true; +But now he's his uncle's darling, and has got +Master Justice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly) +At his commandment to do any thing; +Wo, wo to us. + +_Froth._ He may prove merciful. + +_Tap._ Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands. +Though he knew all the passages of our house, +As the receiving of stolen goods; +When he was rogue Wellborn, no man would believe him, +And then his information could not hurt us: +But now he is right worshipful again. +Who dares but doubt his testimony? Methinks +I see thee, Froth, already in a cart, +And my hand hissing (if I 'scape the halter) +With the letter R printed upon it. + +_Froth._ 'Would that were the worst! +That were but nine days wonder: as for credit, +We have none to loose; but we shall lose the money +He owes us, and his custom; there's the worst on't. + +_Tap._ He has summon'd all his creditors by the drum, +And they swarm about him like so many soldiers +On the pay day; and has found such a new way +To pay his old debts, as, 'tis very likely, +He shall be chronicled for it. + +_Froth._ He deserves it +More than ten pageants. But are you sure his worship +Comes this way to my lady's? + +[_A Cry Within_, Brave Mr. Wellborn!] + +_Tap._ Yes, I hear him. + +_Froth._ Be ready with your petition, and present it +To his good grace. + +_Enter_ Wellborn, _in a rich Habit_; Greedy, Marall, Amble, Order, +Furnace, _and Three_ Creditors; Tapwell, _kneeling, delivers his Bill of +Debt_. + +_Wellb._ How's this! petitioned too? +But note what miracles the payment of +A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes, +Can work upon these rascals. I shall be, +I think, Prince Wellborn. + +_Mar._ When your worship's married, +You may be--I know what I hope to see you. + +_Wellb._ Then look thou for advancement. + +_Mar._ To be known +Your worship's bailiff, is the mark I shoot at. + +_Wellb._ And thou shalt hit it. + +_Mar._ Pray you, sir, despatch, +And for my admittance. + +[_In this Interim_, Tapwell _and_ Froth _flattering and bribing_ Justice +Greedy. + +(Provided you'll defend me from Sir Giles, +Whose service I am weary of) I'll say something +You shall give thanks for. + +_Wellb._ Fear him not. + +_Greedy._ Who, Tapwell? I remember thy wife brought me +Last new year's tide, a couple of fat turkeys. + +_Tap._ And shall do every Christmas, let your worship +But stand my friend now. + +_Greedy._ How! with Mr. Wellborn? +I can do any thing with him, on such terms---- +See you this honest couple? they are good souls +As ever drew out spigot; have they not +A pair of honest faces? + +_Wellb._ I o'erheard you, +And the bribe he promis'd; you are cozen'd in them; +For of all the scum that grew rich by my riots, +This for a most unthankful knave, and this +For a base quean, have worse deserv'd; +And therefore speak not for them. By your place, +You are rather to do me justice; lend me your ear, +Forget his turkeys, and call in his license, +And every season I will send you venison, +Shall feast a mayor and the corporation. + +_Greedy._ I am changed on the sudden +In my opinion----Mum! my passion is great! +I fry like a burnt marrowbone--Come nearer, rascal. +And now I view him better, did you e'er see +One look so like an arch knave? his very countenance, +Should an understanding judge but look upon him, +Would hang him, though he were innocent. + +_Tap and Froth._ Worshipful sir! + +_Greedy._ No; though the great Turk came instead of turkeys, +To beg my favour, I am inexorable. +Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's stomachs, +A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of bacon, +Or any esculent, as the learned call it, +For their emolument, but sheer drink only. +For which gross fault, I here do damn thy license, +Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw; +For instantly, I will, in mine own person, +Command the constable to pull down thy sign; +And do it before I eat. + +_Froth._ No mercy? + +_Greedy._ Vanish. +If I show any, may my promis'd venison choke me. + +_Tap._ Unthankful knaves are ever so rewarded. + +[_Exeunt_ Tapwell and _Froth_. + +_Wellb._ Speak; what are you? + +_1 Cred._ A decayed vintner, sir, +That might have thriv'd, but that your worship broke me, +With trusting you with muscadine and eggs, +And five pound suppers, with your after-drinkings, +When you lodged upon the bankside. + +_Wellb._ I remember. + +_1 Cred._ I have not been hasty, nor e'er laid to arrest you; +And therefore, sir---- + +_Wellb._ Thou art an honest fellow: +I'll set thee up again: see this bill paid. +What are you? + +_2 Cred._ A tailor once, but now mere botcher. +I gave you credit for a suit of clothes, +Which was all my stock; but you failing in payment, +I was remov'd from the shop-board, and confin'd +Under a stall. + +_Wellb._ See him paid; and botch no more. + +_2 Cred._ I ask no interest, sir. + +_Wellb._ Such tailors need not: +If their bills are paid in one and twenty years, +They are seldom losers. +See all men else discharg'd; +And since old debts are clear'd by a new way, +A little bounty will not misbecome me. +Pray you, on before. +I'll attend you at dinner. + +_Greedy._ For Heaven's sake, don't stay long; +It is almost ready. + +[_Exeunt_ Greedy, Order, Furnace Amble, _and_ Creditors. + +_Wellb._ Now, Mr. Marall, what's the weighty secret, +You promis'd to impart? + +_Mar._ Sir, time nor place +Allow me to relate each circumstance; +This only in a word: I know Sir Giles +Will come upon you for security +For his thousand pounds: which you must not consent to. +As he grows in heat (as I am sure he will) +Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt +Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land: +I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame) +When you were defeated of it. + +_Wellb._ That's forgiven. + +_Mar._ I shall deserve then----urge him to produce +The deed in which you pass'd it over to him, +Which I know he'll have about him to deliver +To the Lord Lovell. +I'll instruct you farther, +As I wait on your worship; if I play not my part +To your full content, and your uncle's much vexation, +Hang up Jack Marall. + +_Wellb._ I rely upon thee. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Chamber in_ Sir Giles's _House_. + +_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Allw._ Whether to yield the first praise to my lord's +Unequal'd temperance, or your constant sweetness, +I yet rest doubtful. + +_Marg._ Give it to Lord Lovell; +For what in him was bounty, in me's duty. +I make but payment of a debt, to which +My vows, in that high office register'd, +Are faithful witnesses. + +_Allw._ 'Tis true, my dearest; +Yet, when I call to mind, how many fair ones +Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths. +To fill the arms of greatness; +And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out, +Against the stern authority of a father, +And spurn at honour, when it comes to court you; +I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly +Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me. + +_Marg._ To me what's title when content is wanting? +Or wealth, when the heart pines +In being dispossess'd of what it longs for? +Or the smooth brow +Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will? +And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted +By my obedience, and he see me great, +Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power +To make her own election. + +_Allw._ But the dangers +That follow the repulse. + +_Marg._ To me they are nothing: +Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy. +Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me; +A tear or two by you drop'd on my hearse, +In sorrow for my fate, will call back life, +So far as but to say, that I die yours, +I then shall rest in peace. + +_Allw._ Heaven avert +Such trials of your true affection to me! +Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy, +Show so much rigour. But since we must run +Such desperate hazards, let us do our best +To steer between them. + +_Marg._ Lord Lovell is your friend; +And, though but a young actor, second me, +In doing to the life what he has plotted. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +The end may yet prove happy: now, my Allworth. + +_Allw._ To your letter, and put on a seeming anger. + +_Marg._ I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title, +And, when, with terms not taking from his honour +He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him: +But in this peremptory, nay, commanding, way, +T'appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge; +A priest to tie the knot, can ne'er be undone +Till death unloose it, is a confidence +In his lordship that will deceive him. + +_Allw._ I hope better, good lady. + +_Marg._ Hope, sir, what you please: for me, +I must take a safe and secure course; I have +A father, and without his full consent, +Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my favour, +I can grant nothing. + +_Sir G._ I like this obedience. +But whatsoever my lord writes, must and shall be +Accepted and embrac'd. [_Aside._]--Sweet Mr. Allworth, +You show yourself a true and faithful servant +To your good lord; he has a jewel of you. +How! frowning, Meg! are these looks to receive +A messenger from my lord? What's this? give me it. + +_Marg._ A piece of arrogant paper, like th'inscriptions. + +[Sir Giles _reads the letter_. + +Fair mistress, from your servant learn, all joys +That we can hope for, if deferr'd prove toys; +Therefore this instant, and in private, meet +A husband, that will gladly at your feet +Lay down his honours, tend'ring them to you +With all content, the church being paid her due. + +_Sir G._ Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool! +Will you still be one? In the name of madness, what +Could his good honour write more to content you? +Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two +That are already offer'd? +What would you more? + +_Marg._ Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter, +Not hurried away i'th' night, I know not whither, +Without all ceremony; no friends invited, +To honour the solemnity. + +_Allw._ An't please your honour, +(For so before tomorrow I must style you,) +My lord desires this privacy, in respect +His honourable kinsmen are far off, +And his desires to have it done brook not +So long delay as to expect their coming; +And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due pomp, +To have his marriage at court celebrated, +When he has brought your honour up to London. + +_Sir G._ He tells you true; 'tis the fashion on my knowledge: +Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness, +Must put it off, forsooth. + +_Marg._ I could be contented, +Were you but by, to do a father's part, +And give me in the church. + +_Sir G._ So my lord have you, +What do I care who gives you? since my lord +Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him. +I know not, Mr. Allworth, how my lord +May be provided, and therefore there's a purse +Of gold: 'twill serve this night's expense; tomorrow +I'll furnish him with any sums. In the meantime +Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed +At my manor of Gotham, and call'd Parson Welldo: +'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him out in't. + +_Marg._ With your favour, sir, what warrant is your ring? +He may suppose I got that twenty ways, +Without your knowledge; and then to be refus'd, +Were such a stain upon me--If you please, sir, +Your presence would be better. + +_Sir G._ Still perverse? +I say again, I will not cross my lord, +Yet I'll prevent you too--Paper and ink there. + +_Allw._ I can furnish you. + +_Sir G._ I thank you, I can write then. + +[_Writes on his Book._ + +_Allw._ You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord, +In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write, +Marry her to this gentleman. + +_Sir G._ Well advis'd. [Margaret _kneels_. +'Tis done: away--my blessing, girl? thou hast it. +Nay, no reply--begone, good Mr. Allworth; +This shall be the best night's work you ever made. + +_Allw._ I hope so, sir. + +[_Exeunt_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Sir G._ Farewell. Now all's cocksure. +Methinks I hear already knights and ladies +Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with +Your honourable daughter? has her honour +Slept well tonight? or, will her honour please +To accept this monkey, dog, or paroquet? +(This is state in ladies) or my eldest son +To be her page, to wait upon her?---- +My ends, my ends are compass'd! then for Wellborn +And the lands; were he once married to the widow-- +I have him here----I can scarce contain myself, +I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over! [_Exit._ + + + + +ACT. V. + + +SCENE I.--_A Chamber in_ Lady Allworth's _House_. + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ By this you know how strong the motives were +That did, my lord, induce me to dispense +A little with my gravity, to advance +The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn. +Nor shall I e'er repent the action, +For he, that ventur'd all for my dear husband, +Might justly claim an obligation from me, +To pay him such a courtesy: which had I +Coyly, or over curiously deny'd, +It might have argued me of little love +To the deceas'd. + +_Lov._ What you intended, madam, +For the poor gentleman, hath found good success; +For, as I understand, his debts are paid, +And he once more furnish'd for fair employment: +But all the arts that I have us'd to raise +The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth, +Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well. +For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant +Than their years can promise; and for their desires, +On my knowledge they equal. + +_Lady A._ Though my wishes +Are with yours, my lord; yet give me leave to fear +The building, though well grounded. To deceive +Sir Giles (that's both a lion and a fox +In his proceedings) were a work beyond +The strongest undertakers; not the trial +Of two weak innocents. + +_Lov._ Despair not, madam: +Hard things are compass'd oft by easy means. +The cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms +The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth, +Is by simplicity oft overreach'd. + +_Lady A._ May be so. +The young ones have my warmest wishes. + +_Lov._ O, gentle lady, let them prove kind to me +You've kindly heard--now grant my suit. +What say you, lady? + +_Lady A._ Troth, my lord, +My own unworthiness may answer for me; +For had you, when I was in my prime, +Presented me with this great favour, +I could not but have thought it as a blessing, +Far, far beyond my merit. + +_Lov._ You are too modest. +In a word, +Our years, our states, our births, are not unequal. +If then you may be won to make me happy, +But join your hand to mine, and that shall be +A solemn contract. + +_Lady A._ I were blind to my own good, +Should I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me +As such a one; the study of whose whole life +Shall know no other object but to please you. + +_Lov._ If I return not, with all tenderness, +Equal respect to you, may I die wretched! + +_Lady A._ There needs no protestation, my lord, +To her, that cannot doubt--You are welcome, sir. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +Now you look like yourself. + +_Wellb._ And will continue that I am, +Your creature, madam, and will never hold +My life mine own, when you please to demand it. + +_Lov._ It is a thankfulness that well becomes you; +You could not make choice of a better shape +To dress your mind in. + +_Lady A._ For me, I am happy +That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late +Sir Giles, your uncle? + +_Wellb._ I heard of him, madam, +By his minister, Marall: he's grown into strange passions +About his daughter. This last night he look'd for +Your lordship, at his house; but, missing you, +And she not yet appearing, his wise head +Is much perplex'd and troubled. + +_Lov._ I hope my project took. + +_Lady A._ I strongly hope. + +_Sir G._ [_Without._] Ha! find her, booby; thou huge lump of +nothing, +I'll bore thine eyes out else. + +_Wellb._ May it please your lordship, +For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw +A little out of sight, though not of hearing.-- +You may, perhaps, have sport. + +_Lov._ You shall direct me. [_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Overreach, _drawing in_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ I shall sol fa you, rogue! + +_Mar._ Sir, for what cause +Do you use me thus? + +_Sir G._ Cause, slave! why, I am angry; +And thou a subject only fit for beating; +And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing; +Let but the seal be broke upon the box, +That has slept in my cabinet these three years, +I'll rack thy soul for't. + +_Mar._ I may yet cry 'quittance; +Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady? +And the lord her husband? Are they in your house? +If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy: +And, as an entrance to her place of honour, +See your ladyship on her left hand. + +_Lady A._ When I know, Sir Giles, +Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it; +But, in the meantime, +I give you to understand, I neither know +Nor care where her honour is. + +_Sir G._ When you once see her +Supported, and led by the lord her husband, +You'll be taught better.--Nephew! + +_Wellb._ Well. + +_Sir G._ No more! + +_Wellb._ 'Tis all I owe you. + +_Sir G._ Have your redeem'd rags +Made you thus insolent? + +_Wellb._ Insolent to you? [_In scorn._ +Why, what are you, sir, unless in years, more than myself? + +_Sir G._ His fortune swells him: +'Tis rank--he's married. + +_Lady A._ This is excellent! + +_Sir G._ Sir, in calm language (though I seldom use it), +I am familiar with the cause that makes you +Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buzz +Of a stolen marriage; Do you hear? of a stolen marriage; +In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozen'd. +I name no parties. [Lady Allworth _turns away_. + +_Wellb._ Well, sir; and what follows? + +_Sir G._ Marry, this: since you are peremptory, remember, +Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you +A thousand pounds; put me in good security, +And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, +Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you +Dragg'd in your lavender robe, to the jail; you know me, +And therefore do not trifle. + +_Wellb._ Can you be +So cruel to your nephew, now he's in +The way to rise? Was this the courtesy +You did me in pure love, and no ends else? + +_Sir G._ End me no ends; engage the whole estate, +And force your spouse to sign it: you shall have +Three or four thousand more to roar and swagger, +And revel in bawdy taverns. + +_Wellb._ And beg after: +Mean you not so? + +_Sir G._ My thoughts are mine, and free. +Shall I have security? + +_Wellb._ No, indeed, you shall not: +Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgement. +Your great looks fright not me. + +_Sir G._ But my deeds shall.---- +Out-brav'd! [_They both draw._ + +_Enter_ Two Servants. + +_Lady A._ Help! murder! murder! + +_Wellb._ Let him come on; +With all his wrongs and injuries about him, +Arm'd with his cut throat practices to guard him; +The right I bring with me will defend me, +And punish his extortion. + +_Sir G._ That I had thee +But single in the field! + +_Lady A._ You may; but make not +My house your quarrelling scene. + +_Sir G._ Were't in a church, +By heaven and hell, I'll do't. + +_Mar._ Now put him to +The showing of the deed. + +_Wellb._ This rage is vain, sir; +For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full, +Upon the least incitement: and whereas +You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, +If there be law (howe'er you have no conscience) +Either restore my land, or I'll recover +A debt that's truly due to me from you, +In value ten times more than what you challenge. + +_Sir G._ I in thy debt! oh, impudence! Did I not purchase +The land left by thy father? that rich land, +That had continued in Wellborn's name +Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool, +Thou didst make sale of? Is not here +The deed that does confirm it mine? + +_Mar._ Now, now! + +_Wellb._ I do acknowledge none; I ne'er pass'd o'er +Such land: I grant, for a year or two, +You had it in trust: which, if you do discharge +Surrendering the possession, you shall ease +Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law; +Which, if you prove not honest (as I doubt it), +Must, of necessity, follow. + +_Lady A._ In my judgment, +He does advise you well. + +_Sir G._ Good, good! conspire +With your new husband, lady; second him +In his dishonest practices; but, when +This manor is extended to my use, +You'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favor. + +_Wellb._ Let despair first seize me. + +_Sir G._ Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give +Thyself the lie, the loud lie--I draw out +The precious evidence: If thou canst forswear +Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of +Thy ears to the pillory--see, here's that will make +My interest clear. + +[_Shows the Deed out of his Pocket._ + +Ha!-- + +_Lady A._ A fair skin of parchment! + +_Wellb._ Indented, I confess, and labels too; +But neither wax nor words. How, thunderstruck! +Is this your precious evidence? Is this that makes +Your interest clear? + +_Sir G._ I am o'erwhelmed with wonder! +What prodigy was this? what subtle devil +Hath raz'd out the inscription? the wax +Turn'd into dust, +Made nothing! do you deal with witches, rascal? +There's a statute for you which will bring +Your neck in a hempen circle; + +[_Throws away the deed._ + +Yes there is. +And now 'tis better thought; for, cheater, know +This juggling shall not save you. + +_Wellb._ To save thee, +Would beggar the stock of mercy. + +_Sir G._ Marall? + +_Mar._ Sir! + +_Sir G._ Though the witnesses are dead, + +[_Flattering him._ + +Your testimony. +Help with an oath or two; and for thy master, +Thy liberal master, my good honest servant, +I know you will swear any thing, to dash +This cunning slight: besides, I know thou art +A public notary, and such stands in law +For a dozen witnesses; the deed being drawn too +By thee, my careful Marall, and deliver'd +When thou wert present, will make good my title: +Wilt thou not swear this? + +_Mar._ I! No, I assure you. +I have a conscience not sear'd up like yours; +I know no deeds. + +_Sir G._ Wilt thou betray me? + +_Mar._ Keep him +From using of his hands, I'll use my tongue +To his no little torment. + +_Sir G._ My own varlet +Rebel against me? + +_Mar._ Yes, and unease you too. +The idiot! the patch! the slave! the booby! +The property fit only to be beaten +For your morning exercise? your football, or +Th'unprofitable lump of flesh, your drudge, +Can now anatomize you, and lay open +All your black plots; level with the earth +Your hill of pride, and shake, +Nay pulverize, the walls you think defend you. + +_Lady A._ How he foams at the mouth with rage! + +_Sir G._ O, that I had thee in my gripe, I would tear thee +Joint after joint! + +_Mar._ I know you are a tearer. +But I'll have first your fangs pared off; and then +Come nearer to you; when I have discover'd, +And made it good before the judge what ways +And devilish practices you us'd to cozen with. + +_Wellb._ [_Keep between them._] All will come out. + +_Sir G._ But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee, +And make thee wish, and kneel in vain to die; +I play the fool, and make my anger but ridiculous. +There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards, +When you shall feel what I dare do. + +_Wellb._ I think so: +You dare do any ill; yet want true valour +To be honest, and repent. + +_Sir G._ They are words I know not, +No e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue, +Shall find no harbour here.--After these storms, +At length a calm appears. + + +_Enter_ Greedy _and_ Parson Welldo. + + +Welcome, most welcome: +There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done? +Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain, +And I am tame. + +_Welldo._ Married? yes, I assure you! + +_Sir G._ Then vanish all sad thoughts! +My doubts and fears are in the title drown'd +Of my right honourable, right honourable daughter. + +_Greedy._ Here will be feasting, at least for a month! + +_Sir G._ Instantly be here? + +[_Whispering to_ Welldo. + +To my wish! to my wish! Now you that plot against me, +And hoped to trip my heels up; that contemn'd me; +Think on't, and tremble. [_Loud Music._] They come, I hear the music. +A lane there! +Make way there for my lord. [_Music._ + +_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Marg._ Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing with +Your full allowance of the choice I have made. +As ever you could make use of your reason, [_Kneels._ +Grow not in passion; since you may as well +Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot +Which is so strongly fasten'd. +Not to dwell too long on words, +This is my husband. + +_Sir G._ How! + +_Allw._ So I assure you; all the rites of marriage +With every circumstance are past. +And, for right honourable son-in-law, you may say +Your dutiful daughter. + +_Sir G._ Devil! are they married? + +_Welldo._ Do a father's part, and say Heaven give them joy! + +_Sir G._ Confusion and ruin! Speak, and speak quickly, +Or thou art dead. + +_Welldo._ They are married. + +_Sir G._ Thou hadst better +Have made a contract with the king of fiends +Than these.----My brain turns! + +_Welldo._ Why this rage to me? +Is not this your letter, sir? and these the words? +Marry her to this gentleman. + +_Sir G._ It cannot; +Nor will I ever believe it: 'sdeath! I will not. +That I, that in all passages I touch'd +At worldly profit, have not left a print +Where I have trod, for the most curious search +To trace my footsteps; should be gull'd by children! +Baffled and fool'd; and all my hopes and labours +Defeated, and made void. + +_Welb._ As it appears, +You are so, my grave uncle. + +_Sir G._ Village nurses +Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste +A syllable, but thus I take the life +Which wretched I gave to thee. + +[_Offers to kill_ Margaret. + +_Lov._ Hold, for your own sake! +Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you +Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, +Can leave no hopes for peace or rest hereafter? + +_Sir G._ Lord! thus I spit at thee, +And at thy council; and again desire thee, +As thou art a soldier, if thy valour +Dares show itself where multitude and example +Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change +Six words in private. + +_Lov._ I am ready. + +_Wellb._ You'll grow like him, +Should you answer his vain challenge. + +_Sir G._ Are you pale? +Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds, +I'll stand against both. +Say, they were a squadron +Of pikes lined through with shot; when I am mounted +Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them? +No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed, + +[_Flourishing his Sword, sheathed._ + +I'll fall to execution.--Ha! I am feeble: +Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, +And takes away the use of't; and my sword, +Glew'd to my scabbard with wrong'd orphans' tears, +Will not be drawn. [Servants _hold him._ +Ha! what are these?--Sure, hangmen, +That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me +Before the judgment seat.--Now, they are new shapes, +And do appear like furies, with steel whips, +To scourge my ulcerous soul: Shall I then fall +Ingloriously, and yield? No: spite of fate +I will be forc'd to hell like to myself; +Though you were legions of accursed spirits, +Thus would I fly among you.-- + +[_Dragged off by_ Order _and_ Amble. + +_Mar._ It's brave sport! + +_Greedy._ Brave sport? I'm sure it has ta'en away my stomach. +I do not like the sauce! + +_Allw._ Nay, weep not, my dearest, + +[_To_ Margaret. + +Though it express your pity! what's decreed +Above, you cannot alter. + +_Mar._ Was it not a rare trick, +(An't please your worship) to make the deed nothing. + +_Wellb._ I pray thee discover, what cunning +Means you us'd to raze out the conveyance. + +_Mar._ Certain minerals I us'd, +Incorporated in the ink and wax. +Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me +With hopes and blows: and that was the inducement +To this conundrum. +If it please your worship +To call to memory, this mad beast once caus'd me +To urge you to drown or hang yourself; +I'll do the like to him if you command me. + +_Wellb._ You are a rascal. He that dares be false +To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true +To any other. Look not for reward, +Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight, +As I would do a basilisk's. + +_Greedy._ I'll commit him, +If you'll have me, sir. + +_Wellb._ Not a word, +But instantly be gone. + +[_Exit_ Marall. + +_Lov._ Here is a precedent to teach wicked men; +That when they leave religion, and turn atheists, +Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take comfort, +I will endeavour you shall be his guardians +In his distraction: and for your land, Mr. Wellborn, +Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire +Between you, and this the undoubted heir +Of Sir Giles Overreach: for me, here's the anchor +That I must fix on. + +[_Takes_ Lady Allworth's _hand_. + +_Allw._ What you shall determine, +My lord, I will allow of. + +_Wellb._ It is a time of action; if your lordship +Will please to confer a company upon me +In your command, I doubt not, in my service, +To my king and country, but I shall do something +That may make me right again. + +_Lov._ Your suit is granted, +And you lov'd for the motion. + +_Wellb._ Nothing wants then + +[_To the Audience._ + +But your allowance--and, in that, our all +Is comprehended; it being known, nor we, +Nor even the comedy itself is free, +Without your manumission. That +Obtain'd, +Our utmost wish we hold, and from the store +Of ancient wit, produce one genius more; +While honest Massinger himself, to night +Shall teach our modern witlings how to write. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic +Censor, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + +***** This file should be named 26954-8.txt or 26954-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/5/26954/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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. 4, April 1810 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter + +Release Date: October 18, 2008 [EBook #26954] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + + + +<h1>THE MIRROR OF TASTE,</h1> + +<h3>AND</h3> + +<h1>DRAMATIC CENSOR.</h1> + + +<h2>Vol. I APRIL 1810. No. 4.</h2> + + +<p class="notes">Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved +to the end of the article. Table of contents has been created for the HTML version.</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#HISTORY_OF_THE_STAGE"><b>HISTORY OF THE STAGE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BIOGRAPHY_FOR_THE_MIRROR"><b>BIOGRAPHY—FOR THE MIRROR.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BARRY_THE_PLAYER"><b>BARRY, THE PLAYER.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MISCELLANY"><b>MISCELLANY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#COMMUNICATIONS"><b>COMMUNICATIONS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#DRAMATIC_CENSOR"><b>DRAMATIC CENSOR.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A"><b>A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS</b></a><br /> + <a href="#ACT_I"><b>ACT I.</b></a><br /> + <a href="#ACT_II"><b>ACT II.</b></a><br /> + <a href="#ACT_III"><b>ACT. III.</b></a><br /> + <a href="#ACT_IV"><b>ACT IV.</b></a><br /> + <a href="#ACT_V"><b>ACT. V.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HISTORY_OF_THE_STAGE" id="HISTORY_OF_THE_STAGE"></a>HISTORY OF THE STAGE.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>ORIGIN OF COMEDY—ARISTOPHANES—DEATH OF SOCRATES.</h4> + + +<p>Though the term "tragedy" has from the first productions of Æschylus to +the present time, been exclusively appropriated to actions of a serious +nature and melancholy catastrophe, there is reason to believe that it +originally included also exhibitions of a pleasant, or comic kind. The +rude satires, and gross mummery which occupied the stage, or rather the +cart, of Thespis, were certainly calculated to provoke mirth in the +multitude. By what has already been shown, the reader is apprised that +the word, in its original sense, bore no relation whatever to those +passions and subjects, to the representations of which it is now +applied; but meant simply a dramatic action performed at the feast of +the goat, in honour of Bacchus. Thus the different provinces of the +drama then undistinguished, were confounded under one term, and +constituted the prime trunk from which sprung forth the two branches of +tragedy and comedy separately—the first in point of time usurping the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>original title of the parent stock, and retaining it ever after.</p> + +<p>Why human creatures should take delight in witnessing fictitious +representations of the anguish and misfortunes of their fellow-beings, +in tragedy, and, in comedy of those follies, foibles and imperfections +which degrade their nature, is a question which many have asked, but few +have been able to answer. The facts are admitted. Towards a solution of +their causes, let us consider what is said on the subject of tragedy in +that invaluable work "A philosophical inquiry into the origin of our +ideas of the <span class="smcap">sublime and beautiful</span>."</p> + +<p>"It is a common observation," says the author, in the chapter on +sympathy and its effects, "that objects which in the reality would +shock, are, in tragical and such like representations, the source of a +very high species of pleasure. This taken as a fact, has been the cause +of much reasoning. The satisfaction has been commonly attributed, first +to the comfort we receive in considering that so melancholy a story is +no more than a fiction; and next to the contemplation of our own freedom +from the evils which we see represented. I am afraid it is a practice +much too common in inquiries of this nature, to attribute the cause of +feelings, which merely arise from the mechanical structure of our +bodies, or from the natural frame and construction of our minds, to +certain conclusions of the reasoning faculty on the objects presented to +us: for I should imagine that the influence of reason, in producing our +passions, is nothing near so extensive as is commonly believed.</p> + +<p>"To examine this point, concerning the effect of tragedy in a proper +manner, we must previously consider how we are affected by the feelings +of our fellow-creatures, in circumstances of <i>real</i> distress. I am +convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the +<i>real</i> misfortunes and pains of others; for let the affection be what it +will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if, on the +contrary, it induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>them, in this case we must have a delight or pleasure of some species +or other in contemplating objects of this kind.</p> + +<p>"Do we not read the authentic histories of scenes of this nature with as +much pleasure as romances or poems, where the incidents are fictitious? +The prosperity of no empire, nor the grandeur of no king, can so +agreeably affect in the reading, as the ruin of the state of Macedon and +the distress of its unhappy prince. Such a catastrophe touches us in +history, as much as the destruction of Troy does in fable. Our delight +in cases of this kind is very greatly heightened if the sufferer be some +excellent person who sinks under an unworthy fortune. Scipio and Cato +are both virtuous characters, but we are more deeply affected by the +violent death of the one, and the ruin of the great cause he adhered to, +than with the deserved triumphs and uninterrupted prosperity of the +other; for terror is a passion which always produces delight when it +does not press too close; and pity is a passion accompanied with +pleasure, because it arises from love and social affection. Whenever we +are formed by nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates +us to it is attended with delight; and as our creator has designed we +should be united by the bond of <span class="smcap">sympathy</span>, he has strengthened that bond +by a proportionable delight; and there most, where our sympathy is most +wanted, in the distresses of others. If this passion was simply painful +we should shun with the greatest care all persons and places that could +excite such a passion; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not +to endure any strong impression, actually do. But the case is widely +different with the greater part of mankind; there is no spectacle we so +eagerly pursue as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity; so that +whether the misfortune is before our eyes, or whether they are turned +back to it in history, it always touches with delight. This is not an +unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. <i>The delight we +have in such things, hinders us from shunning scenes of misery</i>; and the +pain we feel <i>prompts us to relieve ourselves in relieving those who +suffer</i>;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> and all this antecedent to any reasoning by an instinct that +works us to its own purposes without our concurrence."</p> + +<p>The great author then proceeds to illustrate this position further, and +after some observations says:</p> + +<p>"The nearer tragedy approaches the reality, and the further it removes +us from all ideas of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its +power what it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a +day to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint +the most favourite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and +decorations; unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting and music; +and when you have collected your audience, just when their minds are +erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high +rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a +moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative +weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the <i>real</i> +sympathy. This notion of our having a simple pain in the reality, yet a +delight in the representation, arises hence, that we do not sufficiently +distinguish what we would by no means choose to do, from what we should +be eager enough to see, if it was once done. We delight in seeing things +which so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be, to see +redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I +believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a +conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to +the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident +to have happened, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the +ruins, and among them many who would have been content never to have +seen London in its glory."</p> + +<p>So much for the causes of the pleasure experienced from tragedy. But how +are we to account for the delight received from comedy? Some have +imagined it to arise from a bad pride which men feel at seeing their +fellow-creatures humiliated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> and the frailties and follies of their +neighbours exposed. The fact is indubitable, be the cause what it may. +The great moral philosopher quoted above, in another part of his works, +shrewdly observes, "In the disasters of their friends, people are seldom +wanting in a laudable patience. When they are such as do not threaten to +end fatally, they become even matter of pleasantry." The falling of a +person in the street, or his plunging into the gutter, excites the +laughter of those who witness the accident: but let the fall be +dangerous, or let a bone be broke, and then comic feelings give way to +the sympathetic emotions which belong to tragedy. On a superficial +consideration, the delight we feel in tragedy bears the aspect of a +cruel tendency in our hearts, yet it is implanted in us for the purposes +of mutual beneficence. The pleasure we feel in comedy, too, looks like a +malignity in our nature; but why may not it, like the other, be resolved +into an instinct working us to some useful purpose without our +concurrence?</p> + +<p>The end of comedy, like that of satire, is to correct the disorders of +mankind by exhibiting their faults and follies in ridiculous and +contemptible attitudes. The tendency we feel to laugh at each other's +foibles, or at those misadventures which denote weakness in us, being +implanted by the hands of Providence, was no doubt given to us for +special purposes of good, and in all probability to make men without the +least intervention of will or reason, moral guides and instructers to +each other. It is allowed by the soundest philosophers that ridicule has +a much better effect in curing the vices and imperfections of men, than +the most illustrious examples of rigid virtue, whose duties are so +sublimed that they rather intimidate the greater part of mankind from +the trial, than allure them to walk in their steps. The following +definition of comedy given by Aristotle and adopted by Horace, +Quintilian, and Boileau, corresponds with these observations: "Comedy," +says the Stagyrite, "is an imitation of the worst of men; when I say +worst, I don't mean in all sorts of vices, but only in the ridiculous, +which are properly deformities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> without pain, and which never contribute +to the destruction of the subject in which they exist."</p> + +<p>It has been remarked that the most severe satirists have been men of +exemplary goodness of heart. The giant satirist Juvenal, was a +conspicuous illustration of this truth. While his superior intelligence +and sagacity unfolded to him in their full size the vices and follies of +his fellow-creatures, his superior philanthropy heightened his +indignation at them. The same may perhaps be said of the dramatic +satirists, or writers of comedy in general. We could adduce many +instances to corroborate this assertion. That very man who stands +unrivalled at the head of comic poetry, stands not less high in the +estimation of all who know him, for generosity and benevolence. If those +who have traversed the life of the author of the School for Scandal with +the greatest ill will to the man, were put to the question which they +thought, his good-nature or his wit were the greater, they would +probably decide in favour of the former.</p> + +<p>The most unamiable form in which comedy has ever appeared, was that it +assumed at its first rise in Greece. The character of the Athenians was +peculiarly favourable to it. The abbe Brumoy who has discussed the +subject with vast labour and talent says, "generally speaking, the +Athenians were vain, hypocritical, captious, interested, slanderous, and +great lovers of novelty." A French author of considerable note, making +use of that people as an object of comparison, says, "<i>Un peuple aussi +malin et aussi railleur que celui d'Athenes.</i>" They were fond of liberty +to distraction, idolaters of their country, selfish, and vain, and to an +absurd excess scornful of every thing that was not their own. Their +tragic poets laid the unction of flattery in unsparing measure upon this +foible of theirs, representing kings abased as a contrast to their +republican dignity; and with all their greatness, it is easy to detect +through their writings, a lamentable propensity in their muse to play +the parasite with the people. To their gratification of the public +foible, the tragic poets no doubt owed some small part of that idolatry +in which they were held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> by the Athenian multitude. Yet no sooner did +the comic writers appear, ridiculing those very tragic poets, than they +became still greater favourites with the people. Horace has transmitted +to us the names of three of these comic poets, cotemporaries—Cratinus, +Eupolis and Aristophanes. If there were any before them, their names are +buried in oblivion. Taking the structure of the tragedies of Æschylus +for their model, these commenced the first great era of improvement in +the comic drama. Of the comedies of Cratinus, Quintilian speaks in great +commendation; the little of his poetry, however, that remained is not +thought to justify that praise. Eupolis is related to have composed +seventeen plays at the age of seventeen years. He was put to death by +Alcibiades for defamation, and died unlamented except by a dog, which +was so faithfully attached to him that he refused to take food and +starved to death upon his master's tomb. So that of the three, +Aristophanes alone lays claim here to particular commemoration.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there is not one character of antiquity upon which the opinions +of mankind are divided, and so opposite to each other as that of +Aristophanes. St. Chrysostom admired him so much that he always laid his +works under his pillow when he went to bed. Scaliger maintained that no +one could form a just judgment of the true Attic dialect who had not +Aristophanes by heart. Of Madame Dacier's idolatry he seems to be the +god: while the venerable Plutarch objects to him that he carried all his +thoughts beyond nature; that he wrote not to men of character but to the +mob; that his style is at once obscure, licentious, tragical, pompous +and mean—sometimes inflated and serious to bombast—sometimes +ludicrous, even to puerility; that he makes none of his personages speak +in any distinct character, so that in his scenes the son cannot be known +from the father—the citizen from the boor—the hero from the +shopkeeper, or the divine from the servant.</p> + +<p>Whatever doubts may exist as to his talents there can be none respecting +his morals. To admit all that his panegyrists have said of his genius is +but to augment his depravity, since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> by the most wicked and wanton +perversion of that genius, he made it the successful instrument of the +most base and barbarous purposes. Against all that was great and wise +and virtuous he with the most malevolent industry turned the shafts of +his poignant wit, his brilliant imagination, and his solid knowledge. +Corrupting the comic muse from her legitimate duty he seduced her from +the pursuit of her fair game, vice and folly, and made her fasten like a +bloodhound upon those who were most eminent for moral and intellectual +excellence. His caricaturing of Sophocles and Euripides, and turning +their valuable writings into ridicule for the amusement of the mob, may +be forgiven—but the death of Socrates will never cease to draw upon +Aristophanes the execration of every man who has the slightest +pretensions to virtue or honesty.</p> + +<p>It is here to be observed that the comedy of Greece is to be ranked +under three distinct heads. The plays composed of ribaldry, defamatory +licentiousness, indecency and loose jokes, which prevailed on the stage +while the supreme power remained in the hands of the multitude, +constitute the first of these; and it goes by the name of the old +comedy. In those pieces no person whatever was spared. Though they were +so modelled and represented as to deserve the name of regular comedy +they were obscene, scurrilous, and defamatory. In them the most +abominable falsehoods were fearlessly charged upon men and women of all +conditions and characters; not under fictitious names, nor by innuendo, +but directly and with the real name of the party, while the execrable +calumniator, protected by the licentious multitude, boldly defied both +the power of the law and the avenging arm of the abused individual. +Among that licentious people, nobody, not even the chief magistrate nor +the very judges themselves, by whose permission the comedians were +permitted to play, received any quarter, but were exposed to public +scorn by any merciless wretch of a libeller who chose to sacrifice them. +Nor were the bad effects of these calumnies confined to public +scorn—they often went to the pecuniary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> ruin of families; sometimes, as +in the case of Socrates, afterwards to the death of their object. At +length the miscreants proceeded to open impiety, and held up the gods, +no less than men to derision.</p> + +<p>These abuses continued to contaminate the people and disgrace the +country with daily augmented profligacy till a change took place in the +government, which took the administration from the multitude and vested +it in a few chosen men. The corruptions of the stage were then attended +to, and the poets were restrained by law from mentioning any man's name +on the stage. With this law terminated that which is called <span class="smcap">the old +comedy</span>.</p> + +<p>So far was this law from producing the salutary effect expected from it, +that it rendered the poison more mischievous by depriving it of the +grossness which in some degree operated as an antidote to its baleful +effects. The poets finding that certain limits were prescribed to them, +had recourse to greater ingenuity, and by cunning transgressed the +spirit while they obeyed the letter of the law. They fell to work upon +well known real characters, concealed under fictitious names; thereby +not only exciting in the multitude a keener relish for their slanders, +but giving a more wide and extensive scope to the operation of their +malice. When the name of the object was openly told, the calumny rested +upon him alone—but when a fictitious name was held up, however well +known the real object might be, the slander was applied to many, and +each spectator fixed it upon that particular person whom stupidity, +malice, or personal hatred first suggested to him. Thus the hearts of +the people were more corrupted by the more refined malice of guessing +the persons intended.</p> + +<p>This is what has been denominated the <span class="smcap">middle comedy</span>. In this particular +era it was that Aristophanes flourished, doing more mischief by his +labours than all the wit which was lavished upon the Grecian multitude +in ages could counterbalance. The virulence of the canker, however, at +last enforced the necessity of a resolute cure. The magistrates +interdicted the poets and players not only from using real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> names but +from representing real subjects. This admirable refinement produced +correspondent effects: comedy assumed a new character, and acquired a +new name. The poets being obliged to bring imaginary subjects and +fictitious names upon the stage, the safety of individuals from those +butcher slanderers was secured, and that safety begat tranquillity—thus +the theatre was gradually purified and enriched; and shortly after +Menander arose to dignify comedy and rescue the drama, and the public +taste of Greece from barbarism. This is the third division alluded to, +and is called the <span class="smcap">new comedy</span>. A sad proof of the danger to a nation of +allowing a false or corrupt practice to prevail for any time, arises +from the sequel. The Athenians were so vitiated by the <span class="smcap">old</span> and <span class="smcap">middle</span> +comedy that the <span class="smcap">new</span> was disagreeable to them, so that it rose to no +estimation in the world till it was transferred to Rome.</p> + +<p>To his poignant wit, and poisonous malignity, Aristophanes joined great +intrepidity of spirit. By the indefatigable exercise of his talents he +proceeded, unrestrained by fear, unchecked by conscience, inaccessible +to shame or pity, and alike regardless of the anger of foes and the +feelings of friends, giving to the middle comedy still more force and +acumen than ever belonged to the old. He cajoled the multitude by a +plausible affectation of a violent love for Athens, and an inveterate +hatred to all on whom he chose to fix the odium of wishing to enslave +her. Though he was a Rhodian by birth, he had the address to persuade +the Athenian multitude that he was a native of Athens. Wit of a much +more obtuse quality than his could not fail of winning the hearts of +such a people, if it were employed as his was in calumniating men of +wisdom, virtue and dignity.</p> + +<p>An instance of his intrepidity is worth relating. The very first man he +attacked was a man of vast power in Athens, named <span class="smcap">Cleo</span>: for the purpose +of exposing this man he wrote his comedy of the <span class="smcap">Equites</span>. He could not, +however prevail upon any of the actors to incur the danger of +personating Cleo, so much were they intimidated by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> man's power, +wealth and influence. He therefore resolutely determined to play the +character himself; which he did with such diabolical ability that the +Athenian multitude compelled the object of his defamation to reward him +with no less a sum than five talents; cast flowers upon his head; +carried him through the streets, shouting applause, and made a decree +that he should be honoured with a crown of the sacred olive in the +citadel, as a distinction of the highest kind that could be shown to a +citizen.</p> + +<p>The greatest admirer of this mischievous man was Madame Dacier, who +translated from the Greek, and read over no less than two hundred times +his comedy of <i>The Clouds</i>. A partiality which no doubt will be allowed +to reflect much credit on that lady's taste, moral as well as critical, +especially when it is considered that it was by that comedy the death of +Socrates was accomplished. Socrates had expressed his disapprobation of +the licentiousness of the comic poets, in their conduct as well as +writings. This exasperated Aristophanes, who, to accomplish his revenge, +conspired with three profligates named Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +orators and rhetoricians, to destroy that godlike being. Defended by the +reverence in which the people held him, Socrates was perpetually secured +from the feeble villany of these three associates, till Aristophanes +joining them, broke down by wit the barrier that protected him. In the +comedy of the Clouds he threw the venerable old man into such forcible +ridicule as overset all the respect of the mob for his character, and +all their gratitude for his services, and they no longer paid the least +reverence to the philosopher whom for fifty years Athens had regarded as +a being of a superior order. This accomplished, the conspirators stood +forth to criminate him; and the philosopher was summoned before the +tribunal of five hundred, where he was accused—first, of corrupting the +Athenian youth—secondly, of making innovations in religion—and +thirdly, of ridiculing the gods which the Athenians worshipped. To prove +these evident falsehoods, false witnesses were suborned, upon whose +perjuries and the envy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> and malice of the judges, the accusers wholly +relied. They were not disappointed. The judges expected from Socrates +that abject submission, that meanness of behaviour, and that servility +of defence which they were accustomed to receive from ordinary +criminals. In this they were deceived; and his firmness and uncomplying +integrity is supposed to have accelerated his fall.</p> + +<p>The death of Socrates has always been considered one of the most +interesting and afflicting events in history—interesting as it exhibits +in that illustrious philosopher the highest dignity to which mere human +nature has ever attained, and afflicting as it displays in the Athenians +the lowest depth of baseness to which nations may sink. In the history +of the Grecian drama it is necessarily introduced, as it serves to throw +a light upon the effects produced by the dramatic poetry upon that +people, and because a consideration of the manner of that philosopher's +death is inseparably connected with the character of the first of their +comic poets, Aristophanes: this chapter therefore will conclude with a +circumstantial relation of that event, taken from a celebrated +historian:</p> + +<p>"Lysias, one of the most celebrated orators of the age, composed an +oration in the most splendid and pathetic terms, and offered it to +Socrates to be delivered as his defence before the judges. Socrates read +it; but after having praised the eloquence and animation of the whole, +rejected it, as neither manly nor expressive of fortitude; and comparing +it to Sicyonian shoes, which though fitting, were proofs of effeminacy, +he observed that a philosopher ought to be conspicuous for magnanimity, +and for firmness of soul. In his defence he spoke with great animation, +and confessed that while others boasted they knew every thing, he +himself knew nothing. The whole discourse was full of simplicity and +grandeur—the energetic language of offended innocence. He modestly +said, that what he possessed was applied for the service of the +Athenians. It was his wish to make his fellow-citizens happy, and it was +a duty he performed by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> special command of the gods, "<span class="smcap">Whose +authority</span>," said he emphatically to his judges, "<span class="smcap">I regard more than +yours</span>." This language astonished and irritated the judges, and Socrates +was condemned by a majority of only three votes. When, according to the +spirit of the Athenian laws, he was called upon to pass sentence on +himself, and to choose the mode of his death, he said, "For my attempts +to teach the Athenian youth justice and moderation, and to make the rest +of my countrymen more happy, let me be maintained at the public expense +the remaining years of my life in the Pyrtaneum, an honour, O Athenians +which I deserve more than the victors of the Olympic games: they make +their countrymen more happy in appearance, but I have made you so in +reality." This exasperated the judges still more, and they condemned him +to drink hemlock. Upon this he addressed the court and more particularly +the judges who had decided in his favour, in a pathetic speech. He told +them that to die was a pleasure, since he was going to hold converse +with the greatest heroes of antiquity: he recommended to their paternal +care his defenceless children, and as he returned to the prison, he +exclaimed, "I go to die, you to live; but which is the best the divinity +alone can know.""</p> + +<p>The celebration of the Delian festivals suspended his execution for +thirty days, during which he was loaded with irons; his friends, +particularly his disciples, were his constant attendants, he discoursed +with them with his wonted cheerfulness and serenity—one of them +expressing his grief that he should suffer, though innocent, Socrates +replied, "would you then have me die guilty?"—with this composure he +spent his last days, instructing his pupils, and telling them his +opinions in support of the immortality of the soul. And, oh what a +majestic spectacle! disregarded the entreaties of his friends, and when +it was in his power to make his escape from prison refused it. Crito +having bribed the jailor and made his escape certain, urged Socrates to +fly; "where shall I fly," he replied, "to avoid the irrevocable doom +passed on all mankind?" Christians! wonder at this heathen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> and profit +by his example! in his last days he enlarged upon the wicked crime of +suicide, which he reprobated with an acrimony not usual with him, +declaring it to be an inexpiable offence to the gods, and degrading to +man because the basest cowardice.</p> + +<p>When the hour to drink the poison came, the executioner presented him +the cup, with tears in his eyes. Socrates received it with composure, +and after he had made a libation to the gods, drank it with an unaltered +countenance, and a few moments after expired. Thus did the villanous +libeller Aristophanes occasion the death of a man whom all succeeding +generations have concurred in pronouncing the wisest and best of +mankind, in the seventieth year of his age.</p> + +<p>Let justice record the sequel! Socrates was no sooner buried, than the +Athenians repented of their cruelty. His accusers were despised and +shunned; one was put to death; some were banished, and others with their +own hands put an end to a life which their cruelty to the first of +Athenians had rendered insupportable.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BIOGRAPHY_FOR_THE_MIRROR" id="BIOGRAPHY_FOR_THE_MIRROR"></a>BIOGRAPHY—FOR THE MIRROR.</h2> + +<h3>SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE MR. HODGKINSON.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>Continued from page 212.</i>)</h4> + + +<p>It has been found impossible to ascertain, with any degree of precision, +the year of Mr. Hodgkinson's birth. At the time of his death, which +happened in 1805, he was stated to be thirty-six years of age; but there +are many reasons for believing that he was older. There are few ways in +which human folly and vanity so often display themselves, as in the +concealment of age. The celebrated Charles Macklin clipped from his term +of existence not less than ten years, the obscurity of his early life +inducing him to fancy he could make his age whatever he pleased without +detection. Extremely attached to the sex, he wished to appear youthful +in their eyes as long as possible, and fixed his birth at the year 1700; +but it has, since his death, been ascertained, upon authority which +cannot be controverted, that he was, for safety, carried away from the +field, on the day of the battle of the Boyne, in 1690. Indeed there +exist letters of his to his daughter, dated so far back as 1750, stating +his incapacity to chew solid food, and deploring the necessity of living +upon spoon-meat, on account of the loss of his teeth. From circumstances +which the writer of this remembers to have heard from Mr. Hodgkinson, he +suspected that the age of that gentleman was underrated; and therefore +took some pains to collect the best information respecting it. The +result of his inquiry has justified his suspicion. There are in America +several persons who remember Hodgkinson at different periods of his +theatrical life, from whose united opinions it appears most likely that +he was born in 1765. If this estimate be correct (it cannot be far from +it) it must have been early in the year 1781 when he took his flight +from Manchester, and reached the city of Bristol.</p> + +<p>He stopped at a wagon-house in Broad-mead, and was, by the wagoner, +introduced to the landlord, who soon showed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> by the conduct of himself +and his family, that he was taught to consider our hero as a curiosity. +They treated him with exemplary kindness, however. The landlord, though +a rough homespun man, bred up in low life, manifested, not only +tenderness and humanity, but a degree of delicacy that could not have +been expected. A grown up young man, a son of his, the very evening he +arrived, took the liberty, upon the wagoner's report, of asking our +adventurer to sing him a song, for which the father reprimanded him, and +turning to John, said "Doant thee, doant thee sing for noabody, unless +thee likest it. If dost, thee'll have enow to do, I can tell thee." This +was one of the little incidents of his life upon which he was accustomed +to advert with pleasure; and often has he, with much good humour, +contrasted it with the rude and indelicate conduct of persons of great +pride and importance. No man that ever lived required less entreaty to +oblige his convivial friends with his charming singing. Of the families +where he was treated with friendship and free hospitality he delighted +to promote the happiness, and to them his song flowed cheerfully: but he +clearly distinguished from those, and has more than once, in the +confidence of friendship, spoken with feeling and considerable asperity, +of the indelicate conduct of some who, aspiring higher, ought to have +known better. "It is indeed," said he to the writer of this, "a trial +which few tempers could stand, but which I have often been obliged to +undergo. A person whom I have met, perhaps at the table of a real +friend, asks me to dine with him: I find a large company assembled upon +the occasion, and hardly is the cloth taken away, when mine host, with +all the freedom of an established acquaintance, without the least +delicacy, or even common feeling, often without the softening +circumstance of asking some other person to begin, or even of beginning +himself, calls upon Mr. Hodgkinson for a song."—"Then why do you +comply? why dont you refuse the invitation? or, if you cannot, why dont +you pretend to be hoarse?" "I will tell you why: because, in a place of +such limited population as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> this, the hostility of a few would spread +through the whole; and not only mine host, but all those whom he had +invited to Hodgkinson's <span class="smcap">song</span>, would fret at their disappointment, and +their fret would turn to an enmity which I should feel severely in empty +benches at my benefit." "It is not that, Hodge," said this writer; "but, +as Yorick said to corporal Trim, because thou art the very best natured +fellow in the world." It was upon an occasion of this kind Hodgkinson +related to the writer the incident with his Bristol landlord, observing +upon it, that there were many who washed down turtle dinners with +champaigne and burgundy that might derive profit and honour from +imitating the natural politeness and delicacy of that man whom, if they +had seen, they would have called a low fellow or a boor.</p> + +<p>To please the honest wagoner, and one or two fellow-travellers, however, +H. did sing several songs in the evening, and as at that time he had not +learned to drink, they thought themselves the more indebted to him, and +the landlord and his wife put him to sleep with their son, who kept him +awake the greater part of the night, asking him the most ridiculous +questions respecting his parentage, where he came from, whither he was +going, &c. and concluded with expressing his firm belief, because Sally, +the housemaid, had told him so, that he, Hodgkinson, was some great +man's son, who had run away from school, for fear of a flogging: "for +you know," said he, "that none but the great volks can afford to be +great singers and musicianers."</p> + +<p>Resolved to take leave of his kind friend the wagoner, who was to set +off on his return early in the morning, our young adventurer was up +betimes, and went to the stable to look for him. As he stood at the +door, a tall young stripling, dressed in what they call a smock frock, +with a pitchfork in his hand, came up and, taking his station a little +on one side, began to view him from head to foot, scratching his head +and grinning. Our youth was startled and blushed, but said nothing, and +affected firmness; yet he imagined he had seen the man's face before. +The arrival of the wagoner afforded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> him a seasonable relief, and he +returned with him into the inn kitchen, where breakfast was got ready +and John was invited to sit down and eat. He had hardly swallowed two +mouthfuls when he of the pitchfork, having left his hat and his +instrument aside, entered, and, taking his station at the dresser, +continued to gaze upon him, still scratching his pate and looking +significantly. Our adventurer was sadly disconcerted, but concealed his +emotions so that they were not observed, till breakfast was over, when +the rustic took an opportunity to beckon to him with an intimation to +follow him. They proceeded to the stable, where after carefully looking +out of the back door to see that nobody was near them, the rustic +without any preface said, "I'll tell thee what—thee art Jacky +Meadowcroft!—I know thee as well as I do that horse that stonds there +before my eyes; so don't you go vor to tell loies about it, or to deny +it." Hodgkinson who, though he might be startled, was not to be +intimidated, asked the fellow sturdily, and with a dash of stage +loftiness, what it was to him who he was, or what his name; upon which +the other rather abashed said, "No harm I assure thee Jack, nor hurt +would I do thee for ever so much: but I fear thee be'est upon no good: +now don't think hard of me, but do thee tell me, what prank art thee +upon here?—where dids't thee get those foin clothes?"—To this our +adventurer gave no answer but a look of haughty resentment, putting his +arms akimbo, elevating his head and neck, and finishing with a +contemptuous sneer of the right barn-buskin kind. "Nay, now," said the +other, "I am sure of it. Yes, Jack Meadowcroft thee hast left thy honest +parents, and mixed with the strolling fellers—the play actors,—a pize +upon them, with their tricks, making honest folks laugh to pick their +pockets."</p> + +<p>Our youth now saw that it would be useless to persevere in concealment, +and said to the other with a good-humoured cheerful air, "Who are you +who know me so well, and seem so much concerned about me?" "My name be +Jack as well as thine," replied the honest-hearted bumpkin. Hodgkinson +then discovered that the young man had been for sometime<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> a stable-boy +at Manchester, and was in the habit of going to his mother's house with +the gentlemen of the long whip; but being elder than John had not been +much noticed by him. H. understood from him that his singing at night +was the first thing that raised his suspicions, and that he determined +to know all about it in the morning. "I was pretty sure at the first +sight, said he, that thee wert Jack Meadowcroft; but still I was not +quite certain till I heard thee chattering with the folks at breakfast: +so being ostler, I called thee out to the stable to speak to thee <i>in +private</i>: for I'll tell thee what Jack, I will not betray thee." +Hodgkinson then told him that though he loved music and acting, and +should be glad to be a good player (at which the fellow shook his head) +he had not yet mixed with any strollers, nor did he believe any +strollers would let him mix with them; as he was too young and had not a +figure or person fit for their purpose; but his object was to go to sea +to escape from tyranny, hard fare, and oppression.</p> + +<p>How often are the intentions of the best heart frustrated by the +blunders of an uninformed head. Who can, without respect and admiration, +contemplate the sturdy integrity, and simple zeal with which this rustic +moralist enforced his laudable though mistaken notions? who can help +reflecting with some surprise upon the fact, that before he ceased to +apothegmatise and advise his young friend against having anything to do +with the actors he was actually the first who put him seriously in the +notion of going directly upon the stage as a public actor? It was a +curious process, and we will endeavour to relate it as nearly as +possible in the way Hodgkinson related it to us:</p> + +<p>"A plague upon going to sea," said the honest fellow, "I can't abide it, +thoff it be a hard, honest way of getting one's bread, and for that +reason ought to wear well—but some how or other I never seed a sailor +having anything to the fore; but always poor and dirty, except now and +then for a spurt. There's my two brothers went to sea, and it makes my +hair stand on end to hear what they go through;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> I would not lead such a +life—no, not for fifty pound a year; evermore some danger or some +trouble. One time a storm, expecting to be drowned—another a battle +with cannon, expecting to be murdered—one time pressed—another time +chased like a hare, that I wonder how they live. No, Jack, doan't thee +go to sea; but stay at home and die on dry land. Why see how happy I am! +and I'll be hong'd if measter within would'nt take thee with all love, +to tend customers and draw the beer: ay, and 'twould be worth his while +too, for thy song would bring custom, let me tell thee. As to being a +play-actor, confound it, I hate the very word; you need not think +anything about your size. Thou'rt very tall and hast a better face to +look at than any on 'un I see; and though thou be'est knock-kneed a bit, +its the way with all growing boys. Lord love thee, Jack, if wert to see +some of them fellows, for all they look so on the stage with paint and +tinsel and silk, when they stop to take a pint of beer, I think they be +the ugliest, conceitedest, foolishest talken fellows I ever ze'ed. Why +there's one feller was here for three days all time quite drunk—went +yesterday to Bath to get place there among them. He's a player, and as +ugly as an old mangy carthorse. But he's an Irishman to be sure, and +they say he won't do at Bath because he wants an eye."</p> + +<p>"You have players here at times then," said H. interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Yes! sometimes they comes for their baggage, that is, their trunks and +boxes and women and children. Sometimes the poor souls on 'un come in +the wagon themselves. Sometimes when it's a holliday we 'un, they walk +out to Stapleton and other parts to kill time, being very idle people; +then they stop to take beer here, and they talk such nonsense that I +can't abide the tuoads. Lauk! thee why Jack, thee know'st I would not +flatter thee now—thee art a king to some on 'un that talks ten times as +big as king George could for the life o' him."</p> + +<p>This intelligence given by the honest simpleton, in all likelihood for +the purpose of disgusting our adventurer with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> the stage, communicated +to him the first proud presentiment he felt of what afterwards occurred. +The thought instantly struck him, "If performers, so very despicable as +this man describes, are endured upon a public stage, thought he, why may +not I?—cannot I be as useful as them? besides I can—but these men +sing, I suppose—do not they sing John, much better than me?" "Noa, I +tell thee they doan't: sing better than thee! they can't sing at all. A +tinker's jackass is as good at it as any of them I see here. When they +are on the stage (I went three or four times with our Sall to the play) +od rot 'un—they make a noise by way of a song, and the musicianers sing +for them on their fiddles." The man to whom honest John alluded, arrived +from Bath that very day, execrating the injustice of the Bath and +Bristol managers, who though they could not but be convinced of his +talents, refused to give him even a trial. Our adventurer surveyed him +from head to foot, and from the information of the man's face, voice, +deportment, language, and person, concluded with himself that he had +little to fear; "If, said he, this man has ever been received as an +actor by any audience in this world, I'll offer myself to the first +company I meet." He was precisely such as the ostler had described +him—he wanted an eye, and was frightfully seamed by the small-pox, +which not only had deprived him of that organ, but given him a snuffling +stoppage of the nose. Such as this, was the whole man in every point, +who actually boasted that he was allowed by all judges to play Jaffier +better than any man that ever lived, but Barry, and who, disgusted with +the British managers for their want of taste, took shipping that very +evening for Cork.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> +<p>Without imparting a hint of his intention to the ostler who vowed, "as +he hoped to be saved" that he would never betray him (a vow which he +religiously fulfilled) Hodgkinson resolved to introduce himself in some +shape or other, to the company of the theatre as soon as they should +return from Bath to Bristol; an event which was to take place according +to the course of their custom, in two days. Meantime he walked +frequently to the theatre, in order to indulge himself with looking at +the outside of it; and he made the fine square before it, his promenade, +where he gave a loose to his imagination, and anticipating his future +success, built castles in the air from morning till night.</p> + +<p>He was at this work when the players returned from Bath. He saw the +gates laid open, and having taken his post at the passage to the +stage-door, resolved first to reconnoitre those who entered, and collect +from circumstances as they might occur, some clue to guide him in his +projected enterprise. As this was one of the eras in his life on which +he loved to ruminate and converse, he was more than commonly +circumstantial in his account of it. "There is a long passage," said he, +"that goes up to the stage-door at Bristol. For the first two days I +stood at the outside, but becoming more impatient, and impatience making +me bold, I took my station in the passage, with my hat under my left arm +stood up with my back to the wall, and as the actors and people of the +theatre passed by to rehearsal, I made a bow of my head to those whose +countenances and manners seemed most promising. For several days not one +of them took the least notice of me. There was one of them who looked so +unpromising that I should hardly have given him the honour of my bow, if +it were not for his superior age and venerable aspect; and I believe +when I did give it to him, it was but a mutilated affair. There was a +starched pompous man, too, whose aspect was, to my mind, so forbidding +and repulsive that I never <i>condescended</i> to take much notice of him. +From a loquacious, good-natured and communicative old Irish woman who +sold fruit at the door I gained the intelligence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> that the former of +these was Mr. Keasberry the manager—the other Mr. Dimond. That Mr. D. +said I to her, seems to be a proud man. "Och, God help your poor head!" +said my informant; "it's little you know about them; by Christ, my dear, +there's more pride in one of these make-games that live by the shilling +of you and me, and the likes of us, than in all the lords in the +parliament house of Dublin, aye and the lord-lieutenant along with them, +though he is an Englishman, and of course you know as proud as the devil +can make him:—not but the old fellow is good enough, and can be very +agreeable to poor people," My first act of extravagance in Bristol was +giving this poor woman three half-pence for an orange, and making her +eat a piece of it; a favour which many years after she had not +forgotten."</p> + +<p>"I believe it was on the fourth day of my standing sentinel," continued +H. "that the old gentleman passing by me, I made him a bow of more than +ordinary reverence. The Irishwoman's character of him had great weight +with me, and my opinions and feelings were transferred to my salute. He +walked on a few steps, halted, looked back, muttered something to +himself and went on. I thought he was going to speak, and was so dashed, +I wished myself away; yet when he did not speak, I was more than ever +unhappy. He returned again with two or three people about him in +conversation; his eye glanced upon me, but he went on without speaking +to me, and I left the place—for, said I to myself, if this man does not +notice me, none of them will. Discouraged and chop fallen I returned to +Broad-mead, and on my way began, for the first time, to reflect with +uneasiness upon my situation.</p> + +<p>"Next day, however, I returned to the charge, and assumed my wonted post +in the way to the stage-door of the theatre. Instinctively I took my +stand further up the passage, and just at the spot where the old +gentleman had the day before stopped and turned to look at me—after +some minutes I saw him coming—I was ashamed to look towards him as he +advanced, but I scanned his looks through the corner of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> my eye—my mind +misgiving me at the moment, that I had a mean and guilty look, so that +when he came up, I made my reverence with a very grave, I believe +indeed, a very sad face. The old gentleman stopped, and my heart beat so +with shame and trepidation that I thought I should have sunk. He saw my +confusion, yet addressed me in a manner which, though not unkind nor +positively harsh, was rather abrupt. "I have observed you, boy, for +several days," said he, "standing in this passage, and bow to me as I go +by; do you wish to say anything to me? or do you want anything?" I +hesitated, and was more confused than I remember to have ever been +before or since:—"Speak out, my boy, said he, do not be afraid!" These +words which he uttered in a softened, kinder tone, he accompanied with +an action which gave the most horrible alarm to my pride, and suggested +to my imagination a new and frightful idea. He passed his hand into his +pocket as if feeling for cash. Great God! said I to myself, have I +incurred the suspicion of beggary! the thought roused all of the man +that was within me, and I replied, "No, sir, I am not afraid; nor do I +<i>want</i> anything." He afterwards owned that the words, and still more the +delivery of them, made a strong impression upon him. Well then, my good +boy, what is it you wish for? coming here successively for so many days, +and addressing yourself to me by a salute, you must surely either want +or wish for something. "Sir," replied I, "I wish to go upon the stage." +"Upon the stage," said he emphatically, "how do you mean? oh to look at +the scenery I suppose"—"No, sir—I wish to be an actor.""</p> + +<p>Thus far the words of Hodgkinson himself are given. The name of the old +gentleman had entirely escaped the writer of this, who, when he heard +the relation from Hodgkinson, little thought that it would ever devolve +upon him to pay this posthumous tribute to his memory. Upon the facts +being since related, and the description of the person being given to +some gentlemen long and well acquainted with the affairs of the Bath and +Bristol theatres, they have cleared up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> the point to the writer, whose +recollection, though faint, perfectly coincides with their assurance +that it must have been Mr. Keasberry, who was at that time manager, and +with whose character this account is said to agree accurately.</p> + +<p>"I wish to be an actor," said our adventurer. The confidence and +firmness with which the boy spoke, surprised and greatly diverted the +old manager, who after eyeing him attentively a minute or two, +exclaimed, "You an actor, you young rascal!" then laughed heartily, and +continued, "An actor indeed! and what the devil part would you think of +acting?" By this time some of those who attended the theatre, +doorkeepers or supernumeraries, came up, and Mr. K. said to them, +laughing, "Here's a gentleman proposes to be an actor." And again +addressing the boy he said to him with an affected solemnity, "Pray, +sir, what character have you yet thought of enacting?" The jibing manner +in which this was spoken by the manager, and the sneering, scornful +looks of the sycophants about him, who, to curry favour with him, +chuckled at his cleverness, had nearly disconcerted the poor boy; +however, he was naturally resolute, and replied, "If I can do nothing +else I can snuff candles, or deliver a message, or do anything that +young lads do." "You can indeed?" "Yes, sir, and I can do more, I can +play the fiddle and sing a good song." "A good song! I dare say—but +d——d badly I'll answer for it." "Won't you give me a fair trial, sir?" +"Fair trial indeed!" repeated the old man laughing, and walking on a +step—"fair trial! a pretty trial truly—however," said he, turning +round and beckoning to the boy, as he got to the stage-door, "Come this +way, and let's hear what further you have to say for yourself!"</p> + +<p>Hodgkinson followed the manager, and for the first time in his life set +his foot on the stage of a public theatre. The actors were rehearsing; +and ensconced behind one of the side scenes he looked on, and "<i>with the +very comment of my soul I did observe them</i>," said he, "and not to +conceal anything from you, I thought I could have done a great part of +it much better myself! oh that I were but a little bigger and had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +beard! said I to myself twenty times while the actors were going through +the business." Had they thought of infant Rosciuses at the time, his +bread had been buttered on both sides, as the saying is. The rehearsal +being over, Mr. K. advanced to him and said, "You wish to be an actor, +eh!"—then turning to one of the actors, "Here is a person," continued +he, "who desires to go upon the stage, and is content by the way of a +beginning, to snuff the candles—humble enough you'll say. But he says +he can sing;" then ironically to H. "Now, pray sir, do us the favour to +say what song you <i>can</i> sing—you perceive the gentlemen of the band are +in the orchestra—or perhaps you would rather accompany yourself, as you +say you play the fiddle." Then without giving him time to answer he said +to one of the band, "hand this gentleman a fiddle, as he calls it." +Hodgkinson took the fiddle, and pitching upon the beautiful <i>Finale</i> at +the end of the first act of the farce of the Padlock, he played and sung +it not only to the astonishment of them all, but so much to their +satisfaction and delight, that Mr. K. after asking him whether he +thought he could sing accompanied by the band, and being answered in the +affirmative, spoke to the orchestra to go over the Finale with him, and +desired H. to sing it again. Emboldened by this mark of approbation, +John asked permission to sing another song: Mr. K. assented: the boy +then stepped forward to the orchestra and asked the leader whether it +would suit him to play one of the songs of Lionel? Certainly, he +replied, which of them? "Oh dry those Tears," said our juvenile hero: a +murmur escaped them all, as if they thought his vanity was carrying him +too far. "Try him, by all means try him," said Mr. K.—The boy +sung—their surprise was now raised to astonishment—and Mr. K. patting +him on the head, emphatically said to him, "My boy, you'll never be a +candle snuffer. For the present, however, you may carry a letter—or +something more perhaps." He then interrogated him—"have you ever been +about a theatre:—perhaps your parents are?"—"No sir, I never had the +sole of my foot on a stage till now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> "Where then did you first learn +to sing?" "In our church sir." "Your church! where is your church?" Here +finding that he had got into a dilemma, he hesitated and blushed: "a +number of other boys and I practised music together, sir." "But +where?"—then perceiving the boy's distress, Mr. K. shifted the question +and said, "So much for your singing, but where, in God's name, did you +learn to accompany your singing with such action; which I declare, said +he, turning to the people on the stage, wants little to be what I should +call perfect for a singer?" "We boys, sir, acted plays together." "And +you played—" "Several parts, sir." "You surprise me, boy!" "Well," said +he, "call upon this gentleman tomorrow morning betimes, and he will +converse with you." He then turned to the person who was acting as +prompter, and whispered him, when Hodgkinson, after getting the +gentleman's direction, made his bow. As he was going down the passage a +lad followed him and told him the manager had sent to let him know that +if he pleased he might come on the stage that evening during the +performance.</p> + +<p>Never before had our adventurer experienced such transporting +sensations. To use his own words, his head whirled and sung again with +delight. Instead of going straight back to Broad-mead, he walked about +the square plunged in a delicious reverie—perfectly insensible of +hunger or fatigue he continued on the stride, up the river side and +down, then about the square again—then here, then there, in short he +knew not whither nor why, wholly forgetful of home, dinner, and every +thing till some time after the playhouse opened, when going to the +stage-door he was admitted, and when he got behind the scenes, was +kindly accosted by some, questioned very impertinently, and curiously by +others, and stared at by all. The after-piece for the night was "the +Contrivances," which he had never seen or heard of before. He was vastly +taken with the song of "Make haste and away my only dear;" and as he +passed down from the stage, hummed it to himself; on which one of the +gentlemen of the band who was near him accosted him, "Hah, master +Henry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> is it you?—you have practised every piece on the stage, one +would think—and the Contrivances has not escaped you." "My name is not +Henry, sir—my name is John." "Well, Master John then, I beg your +pardon, but you have been at Rover I see." "No, sir, I never saw or +heard of the Contrivances till this night's performance." "You can't say +so," said the other, "you have learned that song before, assuredly!" +"Upon my word it is a truth, sir; I never heard it before tonight." "Do +me the favour to hum it over again for me," said the musician. +Hodgkinson complied. "Why you have the words of the song as well as the +air." "Of one verse only, sir: but the next time, I shall catch the +whole of it." The musician expressed his astonishment, and asked the boy +where he lodged; to which John replied, "Off this way, sir," and ran +away as fast as he could to Broad-mead, where he was resolved it should +not be known, for sometime, at least, that he had any connexion with the +theatre.</p> + +<p>When he reached his hospitable landlord and family, he found that they +had all been in great consternation at his absence. He had that morning +spoken to his friend John the ostler, about selling his silver buckles, +in order to pay his bill, and the generous souls were all afraid that he +was in distress. "Hast thee eat nothing since breakfast," said the good +man; "Lauk! why thee must be famished—what bewitched thee to stay away +from thy meals, child," cried the wife, "tis very bad for a young thing +like thee to fast," said another: and numberless other kind and tender +expostulations were uttered by the good people one and all, while ostler +John who was more frightened about him than any of them, and could not +get the naughty players out of his head, coming in said with +affectionate surliness, "Soh! thee'st come back, be thee?—Ecod thee +deservst to ha thee jacket trimmed, so thee dost—a young tuoad like +thee to stay out, God knows where, to this time o' night?" "Dont be +angry John," replied our adventurer, "dont be angry—and as to trimming, +John, it is not in thy jacket, to trim my jacket<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> John—so go to your +hayloft and dont make a fool of thyself!" In saying this he mimicked +John's clownish lingo so nearly that the family burst out laughing, and +John went off, growling out that he believed the devil or his imps the +player fellers had got possession of the boy.</p> + +<p>"John is thy friend," said the landlord, "he was quite down o' the mouth +about thee." "And I love and thank John," said Hodgkinson, "but I could +not help making fun of him for his talking of beating me. I accidentally +met with a friend who offered to bring me to the play, and I was so glad +I never thought of dinner." "Well come now," then said the good man, +"pay away upon that beef—lay in dinner and supper at once, my boy, and +thee shall have a cann of as good <i>yeal</i> as any in Somersetshire, and +moreover than all that it shall cost thee nothing but the trouble of +drinking it—so here's to thee, my boy." The worthy man drank, and his +wife drank, and son and daughter, and all drank, and H. told them all +about the play, and sung, "Make haste and away my only dear," for them, +to their great delight. He was then too innocent and too young to direct +it to the young lady of the house, or it is more than probable that she +would have been more delighted with it, than any of them.</p> + +<p>The next morning early he waited on Mr. ——,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> the prompter, who told +him that Mr. K—— desired that he would keep about the theatre, and +make himself as useful as he could in anything that might occur, till +something could be done for him. He accordingly attended it diligently, +examining and watching every thing done and every body that did it, and +storing his young mind with useful knowledge of the profession. What his +pittance was, he never told this writer, who therefore concludes it must +have been very small, particularly as he sold his buckles, and plumed +himself upon not parting with the silver seal given him by his old +friend at Manchester.</p> + +<h4>(<i>To be continued.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Upon comparing notes with Hodgkinson, and considering his +description, I was convinced that this was no exaggerated picture. +Precisely such a man I remember to have seen, but not playing. He was in +a strolling company in Ireland, and was admired for his miraculous power +of making people merry with tragedy. He was a well-meaning, honest, +simple poor man, but even his performance of Jaffier was hardly as +comical as the compliments he himself lavished upon it. +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Biographer.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> The name is entirely forgotten by the biographer.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BARRY_THE_PLAYER" id="BARRY_THE_PLAYER"></a>BARRY, THE PLAYER.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The following description of the person and acting of the +celebrated <span class="smcap">Barry</span> the player is introduced here, to accompany +the life of Hodgkinson, because a clear recollection of the +former in a multitude of characters, a long and scrutinous +investigation of the professional powers of the latter, and +an intimate knowledge of both of them, has long established +in our minds the unalterable opinion that of all the +performers who make up the feeble crowd that have followed +the men of Garrick's day in sad procession, not one so +nearly trod in the footsteps of Barry (<i>sed heu longo +intervallo</i>) as Hodgkinson. Whatever may have been said of +his comedy, we never could contemplate it with half the +satisfaction we received from some of his tragic +performances. His Osmond, his De Moor, and his Romeo were +infinitely superior to his Belcour, Ranger, and Ollapod. And +his Jaffier unquestionably stood next to Barry's. We know +nothing of Mr. Young, therefore do not mean to include him +in this position, though seeing and hearing what we every +day see and hear, of the present facility of pleasing in +England, we receive the encomiums of the other side of the +Atlantic on their passing favourites <i>cum grano salis</i>. In a +word, we are persuaded that Hodgkinson came nearer to Barry +in Barry's line, than any actor now living does to Garrick, +Barry, or Mossop in theirs. In Faulconbridge, and in it +alone he was perhaps equal to Barry.</p></div> + + +<p>Spranger Barry was in his person above five feet eleven inches high, +finely formed, and possessing a countenance in which manliness and +sweetness of feature were so happily blended, as formed one of the best +imitations of the Apollo Belvidere. With this fine commanding figure, he +was so much in the free and easy management of his limbs, as never to +look encumbered, or present an ungraceful attitude, in all his various +movements on the stage. Even his <i>exits</i> and <i>entrances</i> had peculiar +graces, from their characteristic ease and simplicity. What must have +greatly assisted Barry in the grace and ease of treading the stage, was +his skill in dancing and fencing; the first of which he was early in +life very fond of; and, on his coming to England, again instructed in, +under the care of the celebrated Denoyer, dancing-master<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> to Frederick +Prince of Wales's family. This was done at the prince's request after he +had seen him play in lord Townley, in the Provoked Husband. In short +when he appeared in the scene, grouped with other actors of ordinary +size, he appeared as much above them in his various qualifications as in +the proud superiority of his figure.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So, when a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All eyes are idly bent on him who follows next."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To this figure he added a voice so peculiarly musical as very early in +life obtained him the character of "the silver-toned Barry," which, in +all his love scenes, lighted up by the smiles of such a countenance, was +persuasion itself. Indeed, so strongly did he communicate his feelings +on these occasions, that whoever observed the expressive countenances of +most of the female part of his audience, each seemed to say, in the +language of Desdemona,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Would that Heaven had made me such a man."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Yet, with all this softness, it was capable of the fullest extent of +rage, which he often most powerfully exemplified, in several passages of +Alexander, Orestes, Othello, &c.</p> + +<p>We are aware of Churchill's criticism in the Rosciad standing against +us, where he says, "his voice comes forth like Echo from her cell." But +however party might have cried up this writer as a poet and a satirist +of the first order, Goldsmith had the sense and manliness to tell them +what they called satires were but tawdry lampoons, whose turbulence aped +the quality of force, whose frenzy that or fire. Beside, Churchill had a +stronger motive than prejudice or whim: the great hero of his poem was +Garrick; and as Barry was his most formidable rival, he had little +scruple to sacrifice him on this occasion.</p> + +<p>But to leave the criticisms of this literary drawcansir to that oblivion +to which they seem to be rapidly hastening, let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> us examine the merits +of Barry in some of those characters in which he was universally allowed +to excel; and on this scale we must give the preference to Othello. This +was the first character he ever appeared in, the first his inclination +prompted him to attempt—and the first without question, that exhibited +his genius in the full force and variety of its powers.</p> + +<p>In the outset of Othello, when he speaks but a few short sentences, +there appears a calmness and dignity in his nature, as evidently show +"the noble qualities of the Moor." These sentences we have often heard +spoken (and by actors too who have had considerable reputation) as if +they had been almost totally overlooked; reserving themselves for the +more shining passages with which this tragedy so much abounds: but Barry +knew the value of these introductory traits of character, and in his +first speech, "<i>'Tis better as it is</i>," bespoke such a preeminence of +judgment, such a dignified and manly forbearance of temper, as roused +the attention of his audience, and led them to expect the fullest +gratification of their wishes.</p> + +<p>His speech to the senate was a piece of oratory worthy the attention of +the critic and the senator. In the recital of his "feats of broils and +battles," the courage of the soldier was seen in all the charms of +gallantry and heroism; but when he came to those tender ejaculations of +Desdemona,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In faith 'twas strange—'twas passing strange!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>his voice was so melodiously harmonized to the expression, that the sigh +of pity communicated itself to the whole house, and all were advocates +for the sufferings of the fair heroine.</p> + +<p>In the second act, when he meets Desdemona at Cyprus, after being +separated in a storm, his rushing into her arms, and repeating that fine +speech,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">——"Oh! my soul's joy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If after every tempest come such calms," &c.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>was the voice of love itself; describing that passion in so ecstatic a +manner as seemingly to justify his fears</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That not another comfort like to this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Succeeds in unknown fate."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Through the whole of the third act, where Iago is working him to +jealousy, his breaks of <i>love</i> and <i>rage</i> were masterpieces of nature, +and communicated its first sympathies; but in his conference with +Desdemona, in the fourth act, where he describes the agonizing state of +his mind, and then, looking tenderly on her, exclaims,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But there, where I had garnered up my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where either I must live or bear no life,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>the extremes of love and misery were so powerfully painted in his face, +and so impressively given in his tones, that the audience seemed to lose +the <i>energies of their hands</i>, and could only thank him <i>with their +tears</i>.</p> + +<p>We have to lament, that in many of the last acts of some of our best +dramatic writers, there wants that degree of finish and grouping equal +to the rest. Shakspeare sometimes has this want in common with others; +but in this play he has lost none of his force and propriety of +character—here all continue to speak the language of their +conformation, and lose none of their original importance. Barry was an +actor that, in this particular, kept pace with the great poet he +represented—he supported Othello throughout with unabating +splendor—his ravings over the dead body of the <i>innocent</i> Desdemona, +his reconciliation with Cassio, and his dying soliloquy, were all in the +full play of varied excellence, and forced from the severest critic the +most unqualified applause.</p> + +<p>That this our opinion is not exaggerated, we refer to that of Colley +Cibber, an unquestionable good judge of his art, and who, with all his +partialities to Betterton, yet gave Barry the preference in Othello. In +short, it was from first to last a gem of the noblest kind, which can be +no otherwise defined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> than leaving every one at liberty to attach as +much excellence to it as he can conceive, and then suppose Barry to have +reached that point of perfection.</p> + +<p>His other favourite characters were, Jaffier, Orestes, Castalio, +Phocias, Varanes, Essex, Alexander, Romeo, &c. In all characters of this +stamp, where the lover or hero was to be exhibited, Barry was <i>unique</i>; +insomuch, that when Mrs. Cibber (whose reputation for love and plaintive +tenderness was well known) played with Garrick, she generally +represented his <i>daughter</i> or <i>sister</i>—with Barry she was always his +<i>mistress</i>.</p> + +<p>He likewise excelled in many parts of genteel comedy; such as lord +Townly, Young Belville, &c. &c. The Bastard in King John, was another +fine character of his, which Garrick attempted in vain—having neither +sufficiency of figure, or heroic jocularity. To that may be added Sir +Callaghan O'Brallaghan, in Macklin's farce of Love-a-la-Mode; a part in +which he gave such specimens of the gallant simplicity and integrity of +the <i>Irish gentleman</i>, as were sufficient to establish an independent +reputation.</p> + +<p>Though his Hamlet, Richard, Lear, Macbeth, &c. were <i>star height</i> above +what we see now, he lost by a comparison with Garrick. Here the latter +showed the <i>master</i> in an uncommon degree; as he did in all the quick +animated parts of tragedy. In the spritely, light kind of gentlemen, +Garrick had likewise the advantage; and in the whole range of low comedy +he blended such a knowledge of his art with the simplicity of nature as +made all the minutiæ of the picture complete. Thus his <i>Abel Drugger</i> +was as perfect in design and colouring as the miseries and distresses of +<i>Royal Lear</i>.</p> + +<p>In talking of these actors, it is impossible for the <i>amateurs</i> of the +stage not to regret their loss with some degree of sensibility—not only +as men who contributed to the entertainment and refinement of their +youth, but whose death seem to threaten a decay of the profession +itself. There are periods when the arts and sciences seem to mourn in +sullen silence the departure of those original geniuses, who, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +years, improved, exalted and refined them; and, like widows, whose +hearts were sincerely pledged to their first lords, will not sacrifice +on the altar of affectation to <i>secondary wooers</i>. Painting and statuary +suffered such a loss in the deaths of Titian, Raphael, and Michael +Angelo, that more than two centuries have not been able to supply it; +and how long the <i>present stage</i> may want the aid of such powerful +supporters as <i>Garrick</i> and <i>Barry</i>, the experience of near thirty years +holds out but very little hopes of encouragement.</p> + +<p>To this admirable description as true as it is eloquent, we subjoin the +following extracts from the old Dramatic Censor of England.</p> + +<hr style='width: 30%;' /> + +<p>Speaking of Castalio in <i>The Orphan</i>, he says, "His circumstances give +great scope for the exertion of various capital powers, which were +amazingly well supplied in the elegant figure, bewitching voice, and +excellent acting of Mr. Barry; who, in this part, defied the severest +criticism, and justly claimed what he always obtained, the warmest +applause that enchanted feelings could bestow."</p> + + +<h4><i>Antony in Julius Cæsar.</i></h4> + +<p>Mr. Barry beyond doubt stands foremost in our approbation for this part, +as possessing an adequate figure, an harmonious voice, and all the +plausibility of insinuation that Shakspeare meant; however, we think +that critic an enthusiastic admirer, who, speaking of him in the +Rostrum, exclaimed that Paul never preached so well at Athens.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> It is +certain, nature in this, as well as in all his dramatic undertakings, +furnished him with irresistible recommendations.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + +<h4><i>Varanes in Theodosius, or the Force of Love.</i></h4> + +<p>Varanes, who was most the object of our author's attention, is an odd +medley of love and pride; now he will, then will not; tender, impatient; +in short a romantic madman; yet notwithstanding inconsistencies of a +glaring nature, he is a dramatic personage highly interesting. Mr. Barry +must, in imagination, to those who are at all acquainted with his +performance, fill up every idea of excellence in this character: his +love was enchanting, his rage alarming, his grief melting: even now, +though overtaken by time, and impaired in constitution, he has not the +shadow of a competitor. The rheumatic stiffness of his joints has been +industriously trumpeted forth, and every mean art made use of to lower +him in public opinion; yet true it is that <i>if he hobbled upon stilts</i>, +he would be better than many persons, in his style, upon their best +legs. A gentleman of acknowledged judgment lately made the following +just and striking similitude: that Mr. Barry was like the time-worn +ruins of Palmyra and Balbec, which even in a fallen state show more +dignity and real beauty, than the most complete productions of modern +architecture.<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p> + + +<h4><i>In Altamont in The Fair Penitent.</i></h4> + +<p>After observing that this character lies a dead weight upon the play, +this great critic says, "We remember Mr. Barry, by exertion of singular +merit, making Altamont as respectable as any other character in the +piece, though Mr. Garrick did <i>Lothario</i> and Mr. Sheridan <i>Horatio</i> on +the same occasion. Indeed he so much outfigured all competitors and +illustrated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> so beautifully a character scarce known before, that he +appeared to great advantage."</p> + + +<h4><i>Othello.</i></h4> + +<p>"If any performer ever was born for one part in particular it must have +been Mr. Barry for the Moor: his figure was a good apology for +Desdemona's attachment, and the harmony of his voice to tell such a tale +as he describes, must have raised favourable prejudice in any one who +had an ear, or a heart to feel. There is a length of periods and an +extravagance of passion in this part, not to be found in any other for +so many successive scenes, to which Mr. Barry appeared peculiarly +suitable. He happily exhibited the hero, the lover, and the distracted +husband; he rose through all the passions to the utmost extent of +critical imagination, yet still appeared to leave an unexhausted fund of +expression behind; his rage and tenderness were equally interesting, but +when he uttered the words "rude am I in my speech," in tones as <i>soft as +feathered snow that melted as they fell</i>, we could by no means allow the +sound an echo to the sense."</p> + +<p>To these extracts we will add one from the life of the celebrated John +Palmer, already mentioned, in the Thespian dictionary.</p> + +<p>"The following summer he (Palmer) was engaged at the Haymarket, when Mr. +Barry was also engaged. The part of Iago was given to Mr. Palmer to +study, but at rehearsal he was so awed at the presence of Mr. Barry, +that in spite of all that gentleman's encouragement, he could not subdue +his terrors, and was obliged to resign his part to Mr. Lee."</p> + +<p>Yet there was a suavity and familiar frankness in his manner, +particularly if he had a point of interest or pleasure to carry, which +won young and old—man and woman. A British merchant having occasion to +go to Dublin when Barry and Mossop headed the rival theatres, was +commissioned to collect some debts, and among others two owing by those +celebrated men. When he returned to London his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> constituent asked him, +"Well, have you got the actors to pay you?" "Mossop has paid," he +replied, "Barry, not." "How comes that?" "To tell you the truth," +answered our merchant, "I called on Mr. Barry several times, but he +delighted me so much with his talk, and his kindness, that I swear, I +could not ask him for money, or do anything to hurt his feelings. When I +went from him to Mossop, he looked so stern, that I was overawed and +cowed, and so told him, that as I wished to <i>oblige</i> him, I would let +the matter lie over; and what do you think was his answer? In a voice +that made me tremble, he said, disdainfully, "<i>You</i> oblige <span class="smcap">me</span>, sir!—and +pray sir, who are <i>you</i> that presume to offer to oblige me?—call +tomorrow, sir, on my treasurer, and the pelf shall be paid to you, sir." +And as I went down stairs I could hear him say to himself several times, +"Oblige <span class="smcap">me</span> indeed, ha, ha, hah!—<i>you</i> oblige <span class="smcap">me</span>!!" In a word I got the +money from him, but never saw him after." "You saw Barry, though?" "Oh +yes, he gave me a general order to the house, introduced me to Mrs. +Barry,—and always smiled and spoke so kindly, squeezed my hand too +whenever I saw him, that I never thought of money. It dont signify +talking, but I verily believe, that he could wheedle the birds off the +trees with that sweet voice of his, and his good-natured look. I would +rather be put off by Barry, than paid by Mossop." In this simple +anecdote, which is a fact, the private characters of Barry and Mossop +are clearly and faithfully illustrated.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Our readers will partly judge what the powers of that roan +must have been, who could beguile an erudite critic into such an +enthusiastic, rapturous expression of approbation.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> The late John Palmer had one of the finest persons and +faces in Great Britain. I remember to have seen him, handsome Brereton, +and manly F. Aitkin, when in the prime of life on the stage at the same +time with Barry, when he was labouring under old age, and so miserably +infirm that he walked with difficulty. Yet neither I nor any one of the +spectators ever noticed the others, so lost were they to the sight under +the towering superiority of Barry. <i>Editor.</i></p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MISCELLANY" id="MISCELLANY"></a>MISCELLANY.</h2> + + +<h3> +THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS,<br /> +OR<br /> +SHAKSPEARE AS HE SHOULD BE.<br /> +</h3> + +<h3>NO. III.</h3> + +<h4><i>Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, continued.</i></h4> + + +<p>Marcellus invokes the ghost almost in the words of Charon, who, too +charitable to suffer a man to go to the devil in his own way, thus +addressed the son of Anchises:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quisquis es armatus qui nostra ad flumina tendis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare age venias: jam isthinc et comprime gressum.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The sybil in Virgil gives a civil answer to a civil question, and +narrates the birth, parentage, and education of her protegé. Not so "the +buried majesty of Denmark." Disdaining to be tried by any but his peers, +he withholds all parlance till he commences with his son, and having +entered O. P. (signifying "O Patience," to the inquisitive spectator) +makes his exit P. S. (signifying poor spirit). Marcellus, hereupon, +moralizes after the following fashion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Mar.</i> Thus twice before, and <i>jump</i> at this <i>dead</i> hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Why this dead hour? hours never die. In Ovid they are employed as grooms +in harnessing Apollo's steeds, and if there be any faith in <i>tempus +fugit</i>, how can the dead fly? to be sure, Marcellus was a sentinel, +whose duty it is to kill time: but I prefer <i>dread</i> hour! Now for +jump—Mr. Malone says, that in Shakspeare's time, jump and just were +synonimous terms. So they are in our time. Two men of sympathetic +sentiments are said to jump in a judgment. We have also a sect of just +men in Wales called jumpers. Strange that the same motion that carries a +man to heaven should carry a Kangaroo to Botany Bay!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i15">——multi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Committunt eadem diverso crimina fato<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hic diadema.—<i>Juv.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I do not think that the modern actors who personate the ghost, pay a +proper attention to the text. It is evident from the above passage, that +the ghost in crossing between the speakers and the audience, should give +a jump, taking special care to avoid both traps and lamps, otherwise he +may "fast in fires," a little too fast. "Gone by our watch," should be +divided thus, "Gone—by our watch;" meaning at this hour, as we compute +the time. Marcellus should here pull out his watch. A man will never +make an actor unless he is particular in these little matters. Horatio +continues thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Hor.</i> But in the <i>gross</i> and <i>scope</i> of mine opinion,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This bodes some strange <i>eruption</i> to our state.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Johnson will have it that "gross and scope," mean general thoughts and +tendency at large. Alas! that all the scope of his gross frame should +contain so small a meaning! I prefer <i>guess</i> and skip of my opinion; +that is a random notion hastily entertained.</p> + +<p>As for the eruption in the state, the reader will bear in mind the jump +of the ghost, and coupling it with the aforesaid eruption, will no +longer wonder that a modern writer couples the word jump with the Norman +invasion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hop, step, and jump,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here they came plump,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they kick'd up a dust in the island.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>O'Keefe has a character in his farce of <i>The Farmer</i>, called Jemmy +Jumps, but I cannot with all my diligence, discover that he takes his +name from a love of jumping. Molly Maybush, indeed, gives us a hint of +his fondness for that recreation in the following distich:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go hop my pretty pet along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the dance lead Bet along.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>But if his own evidence is to be believed, (and according to some recent +suggestions, that is the only evidence which ought to be received) he +has no penchant for it. The farmer asks him to join the village dance, +whereupon he indignantly exclaims, "What! I sport a toe among such a set +of rustics!" Upon the whole I am inclined to believe that as a +manufacturer of stays he takes his name from a part of those modish +ligatures called jumps.</p> + +<p>A figure of the very first water and magnitude, now makes his +<i>entré</i>—the ghost of the late king! and here I must digress awhile, and +like a raw notary's clerk, enter my feeble protest against the tame and +unimpressive manner in which that supernatural personage is permitted to +make his appearance. It should seem that our managers reserve all their +decorations for the inexplicable dumb show of the Wood Dæmon (that +diphthong is my delight), the Castle Spectre, &c. &c. The Bleeding Nun +in Raymond and Agnes is ushered in with a pre-<i>scent</i>-iment of blue +flame and brimstone. Angela's mother advances in a minuet step, to soft +music, like Goldsmith's bear, and is absolutely enveloped in +flames—none but a salamander, or Messrs. Shadrach and company can enact +the part with safety. But when we are presented with a dead Hamlet, +Banquo, or lady Anne, those impressive non-naturals of the poet of +Nature, they walk in as quiet and unadorned as at a morning rehearsal; +marching like a vender of clumsy Italian images, "with all their +imperfections on their head," and an additional load attributable to the +imperfect head of the manager. Remember the lines of the poet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another Eschylus appears—prepare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flame like Semelé be brought to bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst opening hell spouts wildfire at your head.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And let us in future see Shakspeare's ghosts adorned with the proper +paraphernalia and (impernalia) of thunder, hautboys, and brimstone. But +to return—For "eruption to our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> state;" some people prefer reading +corruption, alleging that most states are corrupt (England, as one of +the present company, of course excepted) but that eruptions are confined +to the towns that border on Mount Vesuvius. But surely, allowing the +observation its full swing, eruption is here the right reading. The +ghost, in a subsequent scene, expressly informs us that he is "confined +to fast in fires," and from his underground repetition of the word +"swear," it is clear that those fires were immediately under Hamlet's +feet. Yes, sir, this identical ghost was the Guy Faukes of Denmark, and +but for the vent he discovered in a cranny near Elsinore enabling him to +take a peep at the "glimpses of the moon," would doubtless have blown +the crown prince, and all his court into the air, and thus have rendered +unnecessary our late expedition for that purpose.</p> + +<p>I find nothing upon which to animadvert till the re-entry of the ghost. +He has evidently something upon his mind, which he wishes to +communicate; but with the heart of a lion shows that he also possesses +the fears of that royal beast, for upon the crowing of the cock (a sound +most injudiciously omitted, since the death of the bantam Roscius) the +spirit evaporates as quickly as from a glass of champagne, in the +drinking of a health.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Mar.</i> Shall I strike at it with my <i>partisan</i>?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Here performers, who move like blind asses in the manager's mill, +usually raise the right arm, as though partisan meant the instrument in +their grasp. O lame and impotent! As if a little bit of a truncheon +could bruise a ghost! What says Ossian, speaking of a ghost? "The dim +stars twinkled through his form." A plain proof of his want of +substance. So of Pope's sylph:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fate urg'd the shears and cut the sylph in twain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But airy substance soon unites again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Some fanciful persons will have it that partisan signifies companion, as +though Marcellus should say, "shall I strike<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> at it with the assistance +of Bernardo?" Listen to the real original meaning:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Mar.</i> Shall I strike at it with my <i>parmesan</i>?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In plain English, "shall I throw a cheese at its head?" This agrees with +what was before advanced relative to beef, and shows that the sentinels +of those days antedating the couplet in the Bath Guide,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that would fortify the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The belly first must fill,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>never mounted guard without a havresack well stuffed with eatables.</p> + +<hr style='width: 30%;' /> + +<h3><i>Coffee and Chocolate.</i></h3> + +<p>Coffee is the seed of a tree or shrub of the jessamine species, +originally a native of Arabia, but now thriving in the West Indies, +where it is become an important article of English commerce.</p> + +<p>The flower is yellow, and the berry juicy, containing two seeds: these +when gathered have a ferinaceous bitter taste, but are wholly without +that peculiar smell and flavour imparted to them by fire, and for which +an infusion or decoction of them is so much admired.</p> + +<p>This fashionable beverage, almost a necessary of life to the merchant, +the politician, and the author, on its first introduction in Asia, +caused a violent religious schism among the Mahometan doctors, almost as +early as the thirteenth century, although it was not till towards the +middle of the sixteenth, that a coffee-house properly so called, was +established at Constantinople: its discovery was announced by a +miraculous legend which each sect relates in its own way.</p> + +<p>A dervise, says a certain heterodox rational mussulman, if such there +be, "a dervise overflowing with zeal or with bile, was sorely troubled +on observing that his brethren were not animated by a spirit active as +his own: he saw, with concern, that they were listless and drowsy in the +performance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> of their religious exercises, their ecstasies, their +howlings, their whirlings round, their vertigoes, their bellowings, and +laborious breathings.</p> + +<p>"The dissatisfied dervise, taking a solitary walk to sooth his disturbed +spirits, or cool his heated imagination, observed that the cattle became +suddenly and remarkably playsome and lively, after feeding on a certain +leaf; judging, by analogy, that the same effect might be produced on +<i>other animals</i>, he gave his companions a strong infusion of it; their +heaviness and torpor were almost instantly removed, and they performed +the parts allotted to them with exemplary activity and vigour; the leaf +so powerful in its effects proved to be the shrub from which coffee +berries afterwards were gathered."</p> + +<p>"Listen not to such profane heresies," says an orthodox doctor of Mecca, +"it was in the six hundred and sixty-sixth year of the Hegira (about the +middle of the thirteenth century of the Christian era) that Abouhasan +Scazali, on a pilgrimage to the tomb of our most holy prophet, sinking +under fatigue, extreme heat, and old age, called unto him Omar, a +venerable Scheick, his friend and companion, and thus addressed him:</p> + +<p>"Teacher of the faithful! the angel of death hath laid his hand upon me; +cleansed from my corruptions in the waters of Paradise, I hope soon to +be in the presence of our prophet; but I cannot depart in peace, till I +have done justice to thy zeal, thy faith, and thy friendship; persevere +in the path thou hast so long trod, and rely on him, who drove the +infidels like sheep before him, to extricate thee from all thy +difficulties: farewell, sometimes think of Abouhasan, pity his errors, +and do justice to his good name:" he would have spoken further, but his +breath failed, his eyes became dim, and pressing that hand he was to +press no more, he expired without a groan.</p> + +<p>"Having performed the last office of friendship, Omar pursued his way: +but, a few days after, lost in devout contemplation, or overwhelmed with +sorrow, he wandered from his associates in the caravan, and was not +sensible of his situation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> till involved in one of those whirlwinds, +which, raising into the air the sandy soil of that country, generally +prove destructive. Falling on his face, the fury of the blast, and the +thick cloud of sand passed over him: almost suffocated with dust, +notwithstanding the precaution he had taken, separated from the +companions of his journey, without water to moisten his parched mouth, +and fainting for want of sustenance, he gave himself up for a lost man, +the stream of life was propelled with difficulty, perception and +sensation began to fail, and believing himself in the agonies of death, +he poured forth a mental ejaculation to Allah.</p> + +<p>"An angel of light immediately stood before him, waving his hand thrice +towards the holy city, and pronouncing deliberately three mysterious +words; a limpid stream suddenly gushed from the ground, and a luxuriant +shrub sprung forth from the barren sand of the desert; bathing the +temples, the eyes, and the lips of Omar, with the refreshing fluid, the +celestial messenger disappeared.</p> + +<p>"The cool stream, and the berries plucked from the miraculous tree, soon +recovered the sinking man; he poured forth his soul in thanksgiving, and +sunk into a deep sleep, from which he awoke in full vigour and spirits.</p> + +<p>"Omar, with renewed strength, soon rejoined the caravan, and relating +the supernatural circumstance, a mosque was erected on the spot, by the +zeal and contributions of true believers; coffee, that wonderful shrub, +the peculiar gift of our prophet, and more particularly the produce of +his favourite country, still continues the solace, cordial, and +comforter of his devoted followers."</p> + +<p>This singular specimen of Turkish superstition, in which the Mahometan +appears to have encroached on the prerogatives of the Vatican, is taken +from a curious book, which, previous to the Gallic revolution, was in +the library of the king of France, and presented to Louis the fifteenth, +by Said, an ambassador from the Porte to the court of Versailles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is called in the title page, Dgihan Numa, that is, a description of +the world, and was printed at Constantinople, in seventeen hundred and +thirty-one, adorned with plates and illustrated by maps; the author, or +rather the compiler, was Keatib Cheleli, a learned doctor of the Turkish +law.</p> + +<p>"Coffee," says this enlightened mussulman, who shaking off the stupidity +and indolence of his countrymen, assumes the character of a medical +inquirer, after he had quitted that of an implicit believer, "coffee is +a rejoicer of the heart, an enlivener of conversation, a sovereign +restorative after the fatigues of study, of labour or of love; its +peculiar characteristic is, to comfort the stomach, nourish the nerves, +and to protect the frame against the debilitating effects of a hot +climate and a fiery atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"Taken an hour after dinner, it prevents an accumulation of crudities in +the first passages, is an infallible remedy for the horrors of +indigestion, and the megrims."</p> + +<p>It was not probable that so wholesome and agreeable an article of diet +would be long confined to Asia; it is said to have been introduced to +the fashionable circles of Paris by Thevenot, in 1669, but had been made +use of in London as an exotic luxury before that time.</p> + +<p>The first coffee-house opened in the British metropolis, was in +George-yard, Lombard-street, by Rosqua, the Greek servant of a Turkey +merchant, in the year 1652; its flavour was considered so delicate, and +it was thought by the statesmen of those days (no very reputable +characters) to promote society and political conversation so much, that +a duty of fourpence was laid on every gallon made and sold.</p> + +<p>But Anthony Wood earnestly insists, that there was a house, for selling +coffee, at Oxford, two years before Rosqua commenced the trade in +London; "that those who delighted in novelty, drank it at the sign of +the angel, in that university, a house kept by an outlandish Jew."</p> + +<p>In another part of his works, he says that Nathaniel Conapius, a native +of Crete, and a fugitive from Constantinople, but residing in the year +1648, at Baliol college, Oxford,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> made, and drank every morning, a drink +called coffey, the first ever made use of in that ancient university.</p> + +<p>This popular beverage is mentioned in a tract published by judge Rumsey, +in 1659, entitled "Organum Salutis, or an instrument to cleanse the +stomach; together with divers new experiments on the virtues of tobacco +and coffee."</p> + +<p>It is observed in this work, by a correspondent of the author, "that +apprentices, clerks and others, formerly used to take their morning +draught in ale, beer or wine, which, by the dizziness they cause in the +brain, make many unfit for business; but that now they may safely play +the good fellow, in this wakeful civil drink, for the introduction of +which first in London the respect of the whole nation is due to Mr. +Muddiford."</p> + +<hr style='width: 30%;' /> + +<p>Chocolate, then, is a preparation from the seeds of a small American +tree, called by botanists <i>Cacao Guatimalensis</i>, bearing a large red +fruit in the shape of a cucumber, which generally contains twenty or +thirty of the nuts, boiled and prepared according to art.</p> + +<p>This highly nutritious, agreeable, and, to many, wholesome drink, became +on its first introduction, a subject of strong agitation, and warm +contest, with many conscientious and scrupulous catholics.</p> + +<p>Approaching in its original form, and in its alimentary properties, so +nearly to solid diet, it was doubted by the timid and the devout, +whether enjoying so delicious and invigorating a luxury in Lent, and +other seasons appointed by the church for fasts, was not violating or +eluding a sacred and indispensable ordinance.</p> + +<p>That party which was unwilling to resign their chocolate, quoted the +words of St. Thomas, who repeatedly asserts, that it is by solid food +only that a fast can be properly said to be broken; that if it is +unlawful to drink this liquor on fast days, because of the portion of +solid cocoa contained in it; by the same rule, wine and beer, which on +these occasions have never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> been interdicted, might be forbidden, as the +first contains a large proportion of the saccharine substance of the +grape, and the latter suspends rather than dissolves the whole of the +farina of the grain.</p> + +<p>The chocolate drinkers were opposed by a powerful party of rigid +disciplinarians, and austere devotees; a Spanish physician wrote a Latin +treatise, expressly against what appeared to him so impious a practice +on a fast day; his book, entitled "Tribunal Medico-Magicum," exhibits +much zeal and some learning; that he was strongly attached to the luxury +against which he declaims, is a strong presumption in favour of his +sincerity.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard's book was answered, by a cardinal of the catholic church +in a candid and agreeable way; it was the opinion of the ecclesiastic, +supported, indeed by reason and experience, that neither chocolate nor +wine taken in moderation could, strictly speaking, be construed into +breaking a fast; yet, he hoped, that such a concession, would not be +made a pretext by sensuality and wickedness, for using them to excess, +by which some of our greatest blessings are converted into curses; as +whatever tempts or occasions us to overstep the bounds of nature and of +temperance, can never be defended by the canons of the church.</p> + +<p>The Roman prelate concludes his rational and truly pious book, written +in Latin, not unworthy of the Augustan age, with the following words, +which ought to be written in letters of gold, in some conspicuous part +of every eating-room in Europe:</p> + +<p>"The infidel and voluptuary may ridicule the idea of the Almighty +Creator of the universe, being pleased, or displeased, with a man for +having a full or an empty stomach; but whatever tends directly or +remotely, to subdue rebellious passions, and subject a creature like man +to the restraints of reason and religion, cannot fail being a matter of +the highest importance to our well-doing, and our everlasting destiny +hereafter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h3> +MONUMENT IN HONOUR<br /> +OF THE<br /> +LATE DUKE OF BEDFORD.<br /> +<br /> +ERECTED IN RUSSELL SQUARE, BY R. WESTMACOTT, ASSOCIATE<br /> +OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.<br /> +</h3> + +<p>This monument consists principally of a colossal statue of the late Duke +of Bedford, habited in his parliamentary robes. At the feet of his +statue, or rather around the fragment of rock on which it stands, are +"the seasons personified by genii, or children in playful attitudes."</p> + +<p>"This group surmounts a pedestal composed of granite; the sides of which +are embellished by <i>bassi-relievi</i> of pastoral subjects. On the angles +are bulls heads; the intermediate friezes being occupied by +<i>bassi-relievi</i> of groups of cattle. The whole composition is about +twenty-five feet in height."</p> + +<p>The latter part of this general description, which we have marked as +quotation, is taken from Mr. Westmacott's own modest account of his +work, in the 'Academic Annals.'</p> + +<p>The whole forms an imposing, and, in some degree, magnificent pile of +sculpture, and seems the worthy ornament of a great metropolis; yet it +has such defects as inform us that it has not fallen from Heaven. The +statue is doubtless meant to be stable, manly, easy, and dignified; yet +it is not perfectly these, though perhaps no other words could be so +nearly used with propriety in describing its first bold impression on +the mind of the beholder, as he approaches from Bloomsbury square along +Bedford-place.</p> + +<p>A noble and sedate simplicity characterizes the general style of Mr. +Westmacott's sculpture, and is conspicuous in the <i>tout ensemble</i> of the +pile before us. The proportions of the statue and its ornamental +accompaniments, to the pedestal and double plinth basement, are well +regulated, and are the evident and successful result of study. The +bronze, of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> the statue and bas-reliefs are composed, being covered +with a fine green patina (which has apparently been superinduced), would +have assimilated very well with the sort of grave, negative colour of +the Scotch granite, of which the pedestal is formed, had the rock on +which the Duke stands been of bronze, as well as the statue and +personifications of the seasons which are designed to group with it. +This rock ought certainly not to have been of Scotch granite. The +pedestal alone should have been of this material, and all that surmounts +it of bronze. Beside that real rock is almost as unscientific in this +place, as would have been the real ermine on the Duke of Bedford's +robes, or a real wig on his head; it is almost as destructive too of the +chastity of sculpturesque effect. It gives a meager effect to the +seasons, while it mars the simplicity of what would else have appeared a +grand connected mass of imitative art. The granite and green bronze, if +kept in broad and distinct masses, would have harmonized extremely well +with the verdure of the pleasure ground in which it is placed; yet, as +it is, the whole composition, when viewed from any station near the +south end of Bedford-place, detaches with effect from the air-tint of +the distant country, excites a classic and elevated feeling, and invites +the steps of the tasteful to a nearer view.</p> + +<p>The figure of the Duke, in allusion, presumptively, to the firmness of +his character, stands on a rock, with his right foot somewhat advanced. +His right hand is also advanced, and rests on the shaft of the plough, +while his left arm, which is somewhat too short for the figure, hangs +perpendicularly, forming a line exactly parallel to the outline of the +drapery on this left side of the statue. One side of the figure is thus +perfectly tranquil, while the other is in gentle action. What the +sculptor may conceive he has gained in effect, by <i>thus</i> contrasting one +side of his statue to the other, he appears to us to have lost, in +losing that more easy contrast and graceful equilibrium which +distinguishes the best single figures of the ancients, and which should +not, we think, be absent from those of the moderns. If, however, +grandeur by these means be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> substituted for gracefulness, art and the +public are amply compensated, and the sculptor should be honoured for a +successful deviation from ancient authority and established principle. +We are only sorry to add, that in our opinion it is not.</p> + +<p>The features of the Duke's face are very judiciously generalised, or +<i>idealised</i> (as is the phrase among artists) to that degree which raises +the mental character of the head, and while it retains all those +peculiarities which are essential to portraiture, renders an individual +countenance more fit for the purpose of the sculptor, and perhaps +impresses a likeness more forcibly than minute finishing, especially at +a height of eighteen or twenty feet from the eye of the spectator. The +neck is increased in thickness, so as to give an Herculean air and +character to the bust: which yet, on the whole, so strongly resembles +that of the original, that it is immediately recognised by all who +remember the Duke of Bedford's person.</p> + +<p>Of the drapery, the general style is broad, square, and masterly. The +peculiarities of the English ducal robes are sufficiently attended to, +and sufficiently simplified; but the ermined part we esteem unfortunate +(as much of it at least as is seen in the front view of the figure) as +it disturbs the contour of the folds, and has a clumsy and +unsculpturesque appearance.</p> + +<p>Proceeding downward in our remarks, we now arrive at Mr. Westmacott's +personification of the seasons, where we find he has departed in some +measure from former analogies, without, in every instance, substituting +better.</p> + +<p>We have already remarked that these genii have a meager effect, and have +endeavoured to account for it by supposing it to be principally owing to +the ill-judged mixture of materials and colours, of which this part of +the pile consists. Yet beside this defect, in every view but that from +the westward, these figures appear to want grouping and connexion. +Seasons, which are blended in their real existence, should probably not +be disconnected, nor thrown out of their natural order, in their +allegorical representation. No man desires to see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> backside of +Spring unless Summer follow; and had Summer and Autumn been visible from +the principal approach, an association of ideas would have been excited, +more genial and more appropriate to the agricultural character of the +monument, if not to the <i>known bounty</i> of the late Duke of Bedford, than +by the presence of Winter and Spring. By placing the two former behind +his Grace, and turning one of them away from the eye of the spectator, +the sculptor has even left it so doubtful whether he has or has not +taken the liberty of changing the natural course of the seasons in order +to effect this, or some other purpose, that we have known some persons +mistake—unless we are ourselves mistaken—Summer for Autumn and Autumn +for Summer; and others puzzled between Summer and Spring. It is true, +the seasons in our climate, are sometimes so strangely disordered and +confused, that if Mr. Westmacott should plead that in this part of the +design, he has chosen rather to imitate nature than the antique, and +English nature rather than the nature of any other climate, we should +probably be silenced.</p> + +<p>It may also be pleaded with great truth in favour of the artist, that in +consequence of the arrangement which he has adopted, there is in every +view of the monument, something of merit and importance to gratify +public attention. In front, there is the statue itself contrasted by the +plainness and simplicity of the unadorned side of the pedestal. On the +east side there is the most beautiful of the bas-reliefs: on the west, +the most interesting view of the seasons, and what there is behind, God +knows. The public are not yet permitted to walk round it.</p> + +<p>We will now endeavour to explain the symbols and metaphors which Mr. +Westmacott has invented or adopted, as well as we are able, in the order +in which they present themselves on the monument. Spring is very +properly represented as rising a wreath of blossoms and other early +flowers, among which the lily is distinguishable; the genius of Autumn +is pouring forth her abundance of English fruits and vegetables (for +there is nothing exotic) from a cornucopia;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> Summer, as far as can be +seen from without the enclosed area of Russel-square, has a butterfly +perched on his hand, intimating that this is the season when this +beautiful insect bursts from its chrysales into new life; and Winter +sits shrunk and sheltered by drapery from inclemencies of which, to be +strictly correct, it should appear to have been the cause.</p> + +<p>The character and style of Mr. Westmacott's boys or genii, are something +between that of Fiamingo, and real life. Those of Summer and Autumn +especially, possess much of infantile grace; but the genius of Winter +appears disproportionably small, and the space left for his chest so +small, when compared with his limbs, that the Hibernian punsters will be +in some danger of thinking it is meant for a personification of—nobody. +What those may be tempted to think of it who are conversant with Dr. +Hunter's principal anatomical work, we shall not presume to say.</p> + +<p>The bulls heads on the angles have a new and not unpleasing effect, and +are executed in a grand style; their horns are short and bound for +sacrifice as in the antique. And the frieze which runs round the top of +the pedestal is enriched, the East side with two sheep, a lamb, and an +ox; the West side with two swine and a cow; and the South side, or front +of the monument with a horse, all sculptured in low relief, and in a +style partaking partly of the antique, and partly of English nature. +Immediately above this frieze on the south side, and in the interval +between Winter and Spring, the artist has placed a lamb, which is +perfectly in season.</p> + +<p>Of the bas-reliefs which adorn the sides of the pedestal, and which are +in conception and composition, if not of execution, the finest part of +the whole pile, one represents the season of <i>ploughing</i>, the other that +of <i>harvest</i>; and both are so classical in their appearance, and in +design so abstracted from localities, that could they have been +discovered in Sicily, the cognoscenti would, perhaps, have sworn that +Theocritus had seen and studied them when he wrote his Idyllia.</p> + +<p>As associated with, and calculated to call up, ideas of humble, innocent +and laudable occupation, these sculptured pastorals are of high moral +value in such a metropolis as this,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> where guilty dissimulation and +insidiousness so much abound—independent of their merit, and consequent +value as works of fine art. Why do we contemplate the innocent +occupations of children, and rural life, with sentiments of the purest +complacency? Why, but because the soul is revived as it recognises its +own nature through the disguise of society, and springs back with ardour +toward a state of things on which our ideas of Paradise itself have been +rested.</p> + +<p>Perhaps no works of art, and no poetry extant, will more forcibly recall +what we have read and fancied of the golden age, than these bas-reliefs. +They are delightful both in design and execution. To imagine the art as +co-existing with these in such an age of happy innocence as is here +suggested, raises cold criticism itself almost to rhapsody.</p> + +<p>In the first, which occupies the western side of the pedestal, peasants +are resting from the labour of the plough; a yoked ox shows the nature +of their employment; a ploughman takes a refreshing draught, from his +wooden bottle, while a youth blows a horn to call his fellow labourers +to an humble repast, which a female is busily engaged in preparing.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——Corydon and Thyrsis met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are at their savoury dinner set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of herbs, and other country messes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the neat handed Phyllis dresses.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the other relievo, which decorates the eastern side of the pedestal, +reapers and other peasantry are conversing and reposing from the toils +of the field. The group consists of a mower, a reaper, a harvest man +stooping to bind a sheaf, a shepherd and his dog. The principal and +central figure is that of a young female laden with corn, and holding a +sickle in her right hand, and is a most exquisite, and, we had almost +said, unparalleled piece of sculpture in its kind. In truth, the +unsophisticated, self-willed, easy, rustic, grace, of this figure, is +raised by the art of the sculptor into intellectual existence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her form is fresher than the morning rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dew wets its leaves; a native grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veil'd in a simple robe:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and all the characters are simple; yet free from any alloy of grossness, +while the grouping and drawing are excellent in a very high degree. +Modern art, excepting it be in the principal figure of Barry's Grecian +Harvest-home, has produced nothing of the kind, which can be compared +with this reaper, or which is so perfectly the vigorous offspring of +Poetry and Sculpture, generated in their happiest moments.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmacott has wisely chosen to display the most prominent and +distinguished trait of the Duke's character, and to that he has confined +himself. He has not frittered attention as a common-minded statuary +would have done, by endeavouring to make the subject of his chisel +appear to have been every thing that is great and good: he does not +compliment the Duke of Bedford, by surrounding him with various virtues, +and representing him as having been a great statesman, philosopher, +patron of art and literature, orator, agriculturist, &c. &c. but by +seizing the principal feature of his mental character, and representing +him simply as a great agriculturist, or patron of agriculture, he +powerfully impresses one important truth, which no spectator will +forget, and all who possess the means, may learn to emulate.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Bedford's agricultural, is probably the most permanent, as +well as honourable and prominent, feature of his character. In his +politics, like a large majority of statesmen, he attached himself too +much to persons, and attended too little to the ascertainment of +principles. As a politician, he might soon have been forgotten, or have +been remembered with little interest, while as an agriculturist, +posterity for many a century, may with pleasure view the seasons playing +round the foot of his statue.</p> + +<p>The statue is in fact as much a monument in honour of agriculture as of +the late Duke of Bedford; and, observing the public interest which this +excites, we cannot but think it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> would be well if our public ways were +adorned with statues to other noblemen and noble propensities.</p> + +<p>To agriculture, undoubtedly, in every country, <i>the first</i> of arts, in +point of time, and perhaps of importance, the first honours may be +allowed; but we deem that a sufficient portion of the attention of our +nobility and great landed proprietors has already been attracted toward +this pursuit; and among the various arts and sciences, we should not +forget that though the <i>iron</i> arts are more useful, the <i>golden</i> are +more precious. A taste for <i>fine</i> art, moreover, has a certain grace of +disinterestedness, which does not attach to an agricultural duke or +great landed proprietor, constantly employing himself in endeavours to +increase the produce of his lands.</p> + +<p>Wherefore, though the statue to agriculture and the late Duke of +Bedford, be extremely fit and proper in point of moral social influence, +it makes other statues or other moral works of art yet more necessary +than they were. Britain may boast of many a Cornelia, but where is the +monument to the maternal character? Many a Brutus and many a Mæcenas, +but where are the public enticements to disinterested patriotism and the +patronage of art?</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h3>O! NEVER LET US MARRY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We want no change, and least of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such change as you would bring us."—<i>Pizarro.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>TO ROSA.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If in possession passion die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we marry love deny,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis rapture still to tarry:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that soft breast must cease to warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those speaking eyes no longer charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O never let us marry!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I shall hang not on thy lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like bees on roses when they sip,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And thence less honey carry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I must cease to think it bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe my soul in every kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O never let us marry!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h3>THE SABLE APPARITION, OR MYSTERIOUS BELL ROPE.</h3> + +<h4><i>An extract from a Manuscript Novel.</i></h4> + + +<p>"'Twas nothing more, indeed my dear uncle! No, indeed, 'twas nothing +more! Dear, dear, how could I suppose it to be any thing more? And yet I +even tremble now," exclaimed Miss Godfrey to her astonished uncle, as he +entered the house. "For heaven's sake, my beloved Frances what has thus +dreadfully alarmed you?" returned the old gentleman. "Tell me I beseech +you! I'm on the rack till I know what could possibly have the power of +alarming you to this dreadful degree. Come my sweet girl, compose +yourself and relate to me this "soul harrowing" tale; for I'm half +inclined (seeing you smile) to suppose it some imaginary evil." It is +indeed, sir, an imaginary evil, and a very foolish fear: I am very, very +angry with myself, and am seriously apprehensive, that in disclosing to +you my weakness, I shall draw down your very just animadversion; but if +you will give me a patient hearing, and not think me too circumstantial +in my narrative, I will give you then the seeming cause for the disorder +in which you found me." Do not fear censure from me my dear Frances, we +all have our weak moments; and I am convinced, a girl with my Fanny's +understanding, could not be so alarmed at a very trifling circumstance; +therefore proceed, my love; I will promise not to fall asleep over the +recital."</p> + +<p>"Sitting in my dressing room at work, I was surprised by a very hasty +tap at the door, which I opened, when Monsieur l'Abbé appeared before +me, with his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his +whole frame so convulsed with terror, that I momentarily expected the +wax taper which he bore in his hand would make a somerset on my muslin +dress. I begged him to inform me if he was ill? whether any thing had +alarmed him? if I should ring for his servant? He shook his head in +token of disapprobation of my last interrogatory, and in broken and +almost inarticulate accents, begged I would indulge him with a moment's +hearing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> He then, with much difficulty, addressed me as follows:——</p> + +<p>"You know Miss Godfrey, I am the last man in the world to be frightened +at bugbears, or in other words, superstition and I were ever sworn +enemies: I think, then, after reprobating this weakness in others for +fifty years, I have this evening become its victim; for to that alone +must I ascribe my fears. Listen then to the cause of this weakness in +me. I was deeply immersed in Horace, when I heard a knocking against the +partition that separates the rooms. I paid little or no attention to it +at first, when a second time the knocks were repeated with more +violence. I then arose, and proceeded to the room where the noise +issued; and directing my eyes towards the bed, to my infinite surprise I +perceived the bell-rope making rapid and extensive strides from one side +of the partition to the other. After viewing it for a moment, I thought +I would take the liberty of stopping the marble breasted gentleman's +progress; I grasped the bell-rope, it yielded to my embrace, and became +quiescent; I sat a moment to observe it; it remained quiet, and I +returned to my studies. The instant I was seated, the same noise was +repeated with increased violence; I entered the room a second time, and +a second time saw the bell-rope in rapid motion. I then examined every +corner of the room, without discovering the least trace by which I might +elucidate this singular appearance. I again grasped the rope, and again +it was motionless: I sat two or three minutes in the room, I believe, +during which every thing was perfectly quiet. I returned to my room, +when scarcely had I seated myself, ere the same noise met my ear, with a +sort of hard breathing. This was more than even my philosophy could bear +at that moment, and must plead my excuse for appearing before you in the +disordered state which you have just witnessed." "You must pardon me, my +good sir, for smiling," I remarked, but I really have scarcely had +patience to hear you out, so anxious am I to be introduced to this ghost +in the shape of a bell-rope! lead me to the haunted room, and you will +gratify me beyond measure!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Magnanimous courage! exclaimed Monsieur, with such a guide, I'd face +e'en Beelzebub himself;" when each embracing our taper, we proceeded to +the mysterious room. My eager eye sought the bell-rope; but no sooner +did I perceive its motion (for it was moving as Monsieur had described) +than all my boasted philosophy forsook me. Ashamed to confess as much, I +begged my companion to once more stop its progress, and suppressing my +emotions, I assisted Monsieur in searching the room. Nothing, however, +which possessed animation could we discover, (ourselves excepted) and +indeed we could scarcely be said to possess it. Monsieur prevailed on me +to retire to his sitting room, when perhaps, he observed, we should hear +the noise repeated. I acquiesced, when to my inexpressible horror our +ears were assailed by a tremendous knocking, accompanied by a terrific +scream. This was more than human nature could bear. I rang the bell with +unusual violence, which brought up two of the female servants. Without +communicating my fears, I requested that the groom might be called: he +came, and thus, in a body we once more ventured to enter this terror +striking room, every corner of which was searched without success; when +the groom accidentally moving the bed, out sprung our—black cat! She +had so completely concealed herself in the head curtain of the bed, that +all our endeavours to discover anything were fruitless; and each time we +left the room, she amused herself with patting the pull of the bell, +which occasioned its motion to the infinite terror of a French +philosopher, and an heroic maiden.</p> + +<p>"The 'terrific scream,' was a faint groan, proceeding from a servant who +was ill in the house."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="COMMUNICATIONS" id="COMMUNICATIONS"></a>COMMUNICATIONS.</h2> + + +<h3>TO THE EDITOR OF THE DRAMATIC MISCELLANY.</h3> + +<p>Sir,</p> + +<p>I send you herewith the first number of a series of Papers, the +continuance of which will probably depend upon your opinion of their +tendency to amuse or gratify your readers.</p> + +<p>That they may not be tried by too rigid rules of criticism—and that +more may not be expected from the writer than he means to perform, I +deem it necessary to premise that the future numbers, like the present, +are intended to consist of such anecdotes respecting the drama and +dramatic writers, as I have heretofore, or hereafter may meet with in +the course of a very desultory course of reading—of such information of +that description, as I have collected in my progress through life—and +of such remarks and reflections as they may excite in my mind.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With sincere wishes for the success of your undertaking, I am,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yours, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Dramaticus.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4><i>Every One has his Fault.</i></h4> + +<p>Among the best dramatic performances that have appeared during the last +half of the eighteenth century, I have no hesitation in giving this +admirable comedy, by Mrs. Inchbald, a conspicuous place. For strongly +marked characters, interesting incidents, correct sentiments, and chaste +language, I know none to be preferred to it. It appeared here, at the +opening of the New Theatre in 1793, under as much advantage, as if the +authoress had actually studied the force of the company, and written the +parts for the respective performers. I was somewhat dissatisfied at +first with one particular character, lord Norland. I thought it hardly +possible such a being could have been drawn from nature. A further view +of mankind, has convinced me that I was in error. I annex the dramatis +personæ, and leave the reader to judge whether a higher dramatic feast +can probably be found at Covent Garden or Drury Lane.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="15" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Lord Norland,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Whitlock,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Capt. Irwin,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Fennel,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Robert Ramble,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Chalmers,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Placid,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Moreton,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Harmony,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Bates,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Solus,</td><td align='left'>Mr. Morris,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Edward,</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Marshal.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lady Erwin,</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Whitlock,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Placid,</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Shaw,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Woburn,</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Morris,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Spinster,</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Bates.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>It may be heresy and schism to institute the most distant comparison +between any modern writer and Shakspeare. But if so, I cannot help being +a heretic and schismatic, for I believe that the scene between lord +Norland, lady Irwin, and Edward, in which the latter abandons his +grandfather, and flies into the arms of his mother, then newly +discovered to him, is actually equal, for pathos and interest, to any +scene ever represented in the English or any other language. Mrs. +Inchbald, it is said, intended this drama for a tragedy, and made +captain Irwin suffer death: but by the advice of her friends converted +it into a comedy.</p> + + +<h4><i>Prostitution of the Theatre.</i></h4> + +<p>Those who do not look beyond the mere surface of things, are prone to +censure managers with great severity, when Theatres, which ought to be +held sacred for exhibiting the grandest effusions of the human mind, are +prostituted to puppet-shows, rope dancing, pantomimes and exhibitions of +elephants, &c. Whatever of censure is due to this preposterous +perversion, attaches elsewhere. It falls on those who frequent theatres. +Dr. Johnson, in a prologue which he wrote for Garrick, places this idea +in the strongest point of light.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah! let not censure term our fate our choice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stage but echoes back the public voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drama's laws the drama's patrons give:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <i>those who live to please, must please to live</i>."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>And therefore if Romeo and Juliet, the Clandestine Marriage, the West +Indian, the Gamester, Every one has his fault, and other dramatic works +of this order, fail to afford attractions equal to Mother Goose, +Cinderilla, the Forty thieves, an elephant, or a band of Indians, can it +be a subject of surprise if the managers furnish those bills of fare, +which possess the greatest gratification for that public on whom they +depend?</p> + + +<h4><i>Samuel Foote.</i></h4> + +<p>It is an old and trite maxim that ridicule is by no means a test of +truth—and yet it is an equally ancient remark, that many a serious +truth has been put out of countenance by ridicule, and that ridicule +unsupported by wit or humour.</p> + +<p>In a song sung by Mrs. Cibber, there was this line—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The roses will bloom when there's peace in the breast."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of the justice of which no man can entertain a doubt. The wicked wit +Foote parodied the line, thus</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The turtles will coo when there's pease in their craws,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And actually destroyed the popularity of the song.</p> + + +<h4><i>A spirited manager.</i></h4> + +<p>The latter part of the following interesting anecdote of Garrick is +unaccountably omitted in his life, by his biographer, Arthur Murphy.</p> + +<p>In the year 1755, the English Roscius expended large sums of money in +preparing what he termed a Chinese Festival, a grand spectacle, on a +most magnificent scale. He imported a large number of Swiss and Italians +to appear in it, which excited considerable jealousy among the London +populace, as a French war had then begun, and all foreigners were +indiscriminately regarded as Frenchmen. There was considerable +opposition made the first and second nights of its being exhibited—and +the 3d night, November 18, there was a large party formed, who were +determined to have it suppressed. Violent riots took place—"the rioters +tore up the benches, broke the lustres, threw down the partitions of the +boxes, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> mounting the stage, demolished the Chinese scenery." The +injury sustained by the manager was very considerable, and required +several days, and a very large sum of money to repair.</p> + +<p>Some nights after, Garrick appeared on the stage in the character of +Archer, and was imperiously and unjustly called upon to beg pardon of +the audience. At this, his indignation was enkindled, and he advanced +resolutely forward, stating the injury his property had sustained, and +assuring them that "he was above want, superior to insult, and unless he +was that night permitted to perform his duty to the best of his +abilities, he would never—never appear upon the stage again." The +audience were struck with the justice and propriety of what he +said—felt ashamed of the vile scenes that had taken place, and of the +indignity that had been offered to an old, a tried, and a deserving +favourite; and by an instantaneous burst of applause, bore a strong +testimony against the rioters and in favour of the respectable manager.</p> + + +<h4><i>Moody.</i></h4> + +<p>The preceding anecdote leads me to give another of the same description, +respecting Moody, a very valuable performer, one of Garrick's company.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of the year 1763, very considerable riots took place in +Drury-Lane, in consequence of an effort on the part of Garrick to +abolish a shabby practice that had prevailed in London from time +immemorial. This was, to admit persons into the theatre after the third +act, at half price. Great devastation was committed on every thing that +could be destroyed in the theatre. A wicked villain took a light, and +was deliberately setting fire to the scenes, which might have caused the +death of a portion of the misguided agents in this disgraceful outrage. +Moody fortunately perceived him, resolutely interposed, and prevented +the perpetration of his nefarious design. The next night that he +appeared, he was instantly called upon to beg pardon, for an act which +merited the highest gratitude. Moody addressed the +audience—"Gentlemen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> if by hindering the house from being burned, and +saving many of your lives, I have given you cause of displeasure, I ask +your pardon." This exasperated them still further, and there was an +universal outcry that he should beg pardon on his knees. Moody had too +much spirit, and too high a sense of his own dignity, to comply—and +resolutely addressed them once more—"Gentlemen, I will not degrade +myself so low, even in your opinion. By such an act, I should be an +abject wretch, unfit ever to appear before you again." This said, and +having made his bow, he retired. Garrick "received him with open arms," +and applauded him for his spirited conduct. The riot still continued, +and the manager being called for, he went before the audience, and a +loud clamour having been made to dismiss Moody for what was unjustly +styled his insolence, Garrick assured them that he should not perform on +that stage while he remained under their displeasure. He then went +behind the scenes; and, once more embracing Moody, pledged himself to +pay his salary, notwithstanding his temporary exile.</p> + + +<h4><i>Theatrical Licenses.</i></h4> + +<p>Although it is generally known that no new dramatic performance can be +introduced on the stage in England, without the previous license of the +Lord Chamberlain, it is not by any means equally well known to what +cause this regulation owes its origin. Henry Fielding composed a +theatrical representation to which he gave the name of Pasquin, the +object of which was to satirize some of the most conspicuous characters +in England, and among the number were the minister and many of his +friends. This satirical performance became very popular, and was +exhibited to crowded audiences for fifty successive nights. The +exasperated minister, Robert Walpole, was determined to repress the +licentiousness of the stage, and accordingly had a bill brought into +parliament to prohibit the representation of any dramatic performance +whatever, unless it had received the permission of the Lord chamberlain. +This act, which was carried in spite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> of the utmost opposition, took +from the crown the power of licensing any more theatres, and inflicted +considerable penalties on those who should violate its restrictions.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p> + + +<h4><i>Mrs. Centlivre. The Busy Body.</i></h4> + +<p>The theatrical history affords numberless instances of the fallacy and +folly of dogmatic decisions, and premature judgments. It were endless to +relate the cases of dramatic performances, which, previous to their +being acted, were regarded by managers and actors as execrable, and +certain of condemnation—and yet have lived a century beyond the +existence of their judges. And the instances are at least as numerous of +managers forming the most flattering anticipations of the success, and +the consequent emoluments of performances which were, to use the +technical term of the theatre, damned by the unanimous consent of the +audience.</p> + +<p>The Busy Body, by Mrs. Centlivre, is a very remarkable case in point. It +was decried before its appearance by all the players—Mr. Wilkes, the +Garrick of his day, for a time absolutely refused to take a part in +it—And the audience went to the theatre, so far prejudiced against it, +as to contemplate its condemnation. Yet it was so favourably received, +that it had a run of thirteen nights; and, after a lapse of an entire +century, for it was first represented in 1709, it is still received with +applause, and ranks deservedly high among the stock plays.</p> + + +<h4><i>Gay.——Beggar's opera.</i></h4> + +<p>There is a still more striking illustration of the position I laid down +in the preceding paragraph, than that afforded by the Busy Body. The +Beggar's opera was offered to Cibber and the other managers of Drurylane +theatre, and after examination was rejected by them, as not likely to +prove successful. The managers of the other theatre had a more correct +anticipation of the issue of this production, and hailed it with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> joy +and gladness. The event justified their opinion—for never was there a +more extraordinary degree of success than attended this rejected +performance. It had the unprecedented run of fifty three nights, I +believe successively, the first season in London—It spread into every +town in the three kingdoms, where there was a theatre, and was every +where received with unbounded applause. The songs were printed on +ladies' fans—and Miss Fenton, who performed the part of Polly, and who, +previous to her appearance in that character was in an inferior grade, +became a first rate favourite, and was so high in the public opinion, +that she was finally married to a peer of the realm. Gay's profits by +this piece were above two thousand pounds sterling, or nearly nine +thousand dollars.<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> + + +<h4><i>A Wine merchant.</i></h4> + +<p>Garrick, soon after his arrival in London, went into partnership with +his brother Peter, in the wine trade. Their circumstances were very +moderate. Foote, with whom it was a universal rule, never to spoil a +good story by a scrupulous adherence to truth; very often, at a +subsequent period, excited merriment at the expense of the modern +Roscius, by the narrative of his adventures at that era of his life. He +used to amuse his companions by telling them, that he remembered the +time when little Davy lived in Durham court, with three quarts of +<i>vinegar</i> in his cellar, and took upon himself the style and title of a +wine merchant.</p> + + +<h4><i>Garrick once more.</i></h4> + +<p>It is mortifying to reflect how the fairest fame may be destroyed, and +the best character be travestied in the public estimation, by a jest, a +bon mot, or an epigram, which contains any very pointed allusion. The +story tells to advantage. It is no diminution of its chance of progress, +that it is in the very last degree void of even the shadow of +foundation. Its wit,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> its humour, or its malignity embalms it, and saves +it from destruction. It enlivens social circles—It spreads abroad, and +gathers strength as it goes: It is received as complete evidence almost +as if it had been judicially established.</p> + +<p>These ideas are excited by the excellent and revered character, whose +name I have prefixed to this sketch. Of his avarice Foote circulated +some droll stories, which have had considerable currency, and found +their way into most of the jest books that have been published for these +thirty years. And it has been in consequence pretty generally believed +that Garrick was a miserable, narrow-souled creature, whom the <i>auri +sacra fames</i> would lead to any kind of meanness, and who was incapable +of a liberal or munificent action. Of him I acknowledge I had formed +this opinion: and such has been the opinion of most of my acquaintances. +It gives me great pleasure to find that the charge is totally +groundless; and that few men ever made a better use of their +wealth—none were more ready with their purse on every occasion where +distress or misfortune petitioned for assistance, or when any public +spirited undertaking had a fair claim upon private liberality.</p> + +<p>Malone's sketch of his life, and Boswell's life of Johnson, contain +numberless illustrious instances of his beneficence. Johnson, who was +much in the habit of collecting money among his friends for the relief +of persons in distress or embarrassment, repeatedly declared, that +Garrick was always ready on these occasions, and that his contributions +exceeded those of other persons in equal circumstances.</p> + +<p>Garrick's liberality in the establishment of the fund for the relief of +superannuated actors, would alone be sufficient to rescue him from the +charge of avarice. He gave a benefit play yearly for that purpose, in +which he always acted a leading character. He bestowed on the +association two houses for the meetings of the managers;—and when the +latter resolved to sell them, as unnecessary, Garrick bought them at the +valuation which was set upon them. He afterwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> bequeathed them by his +will to the increase of the fund.</p> + + +<h4><i>As it was damned.</i></h4> + +<p>One of Henry Fielding's farces having been hissed from the stage, the +author, when he published it, instead of the usual annunciation, "as it +was performed at the theatre royal," &c. substituted a more correct +reading, "<i>as it was damned</i> at the theatre royal, Drury Lane." This +laudable example of candor has never since been copied by any of the +bards whose performances have experienced the same awful fate.</p> + + +<h4><i>Vindication of Lord Rochester.</i></h4> + +<p>A miscreant of the name of Fishbourne in the reign of Charles II. +published a vile play, called Sodom, so detestably obscene, that the +earl of Rochester, then in the full career of licentiousness and +debauchery, finding it ascribed to him, thought it necessary publicly to +disclaim the infamy of the authorship. This circumstance, coupled with +the gross tendency of most of even the best plays of that time, must +convey to the reader a tolerably correct idea how far the wretched +author had outstripped his companions in the career of turpitude.</p> + + +<h4><i>An elegant translation.</i></h4> + +<p>One Gordon (not Thomas Gordon, the translator of Tacitus) translated +Terence in the year 1752, and rendered the words, <i>ignarum artis +meretricis</i>, "<i>quite a stranger to the trade of these b——s.</i>"</p> + + +<h4><i>Beware of a too free use of the bottle.</i></h4> + +<p>One Henry Higden, a dramatic writer about the close of the seventeenth +century, wrote a comedy, called the <i>Wary Widow</i>, in which he introduced +so many drinking scenes, that the actors were completely drunk before +the end of the third act, and being therefore unable to proceed with the +play, they dismissed the audience.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> See Baker's companion to the playhouse. Vol. I, page 21, +2.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> See Baker, Vol. I. page 185.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DRAMATIC_CENSOR" id="DRAMATIC_CENSOR"></a>DRAMATIC CENSOR.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><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></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Dr. Johnson's Idler, No. 25.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><i>DOMESTIC CRITICISM.</i></h3> + +<p>In dramatic criticism the leading characters of the play, and the actors +who perform them, lay claim to the first and most particular +investigation. Those upon whom the more enlightened part of the public +have bestowed the greatest approbation, require the most severe +scrutiny, since they only can affect the public taste. Birds of passage +too who like Mr. Cooper and Master Payne "<i>come like shadows, so +depart</i>," are entitled to priority of attention; we therefore in our +last number, travelled with Mr. Cooper through the characters he +performed on his first visit to Philadelphia, without adverting to the +other performers, except in a few instances, in which the sterling merit +of Mr. Wood impressed itself so strongly on our minds, that we could not +resist our desire to do it justice, and his characters were so closely +connected with those of Mr. Cooper, that we thought they could not well +be separated. It would indeed be difficult to discuss Mr. Cooper's +merits in Zanga or Pierre, without dwelling upon the able support he +received in them, from Mr. Wood's <i>Alonzo</i> and <i>Jaffier</i>. We cannot, +however, drop Mr. Wood there, since we rather glanced at, than reviewed +his performances. The public no doubt expect something more from us on +that gentleman's subject: the rapid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> advances he makes to professional +excellence, and the large space he now fills in public estimation, leave +to the critic no discretion. Such as the actor is, he must be shown. It +is a duty which we could not evade if we would; and we should be sorry +to be so deficient in taste, as not to discharge it with pleasure.</p> + +<p>Of no actor with whom we are acquainted can it with more truth be said +than it may of Mr. Wood, that he never performs a character positively +ill. A judgment clear, sound, and in general severely correct, with +exemplary labour and industry, secure him completely, even in those +characters for which he is least fitted, from offending the taste of his +auditors, or rendering his performance ridiculous; an assertion we would +hazard on the head of very few if any actors in America. This is to put +our opinion of him at once at the lowest: yet even that would appear +something to any one who could conceive the disgust with which it often +falls to our lot to turn from the scene before us.</p> + +<p>There is not in the whole catalogue of acting plays a character more +disadvantageous to an actor, than that of Alonzo. A compound of +imbecility and baseness, yet an object of commiseration: an unmanly, +blubbering, lovesick, querulous creature; a soldier, whining, piping and +besprent with tears, destitute of any good quality to gain esteem, or +any brilliant trait or interesting circumstance to relieve an actor +under the weight of representing him. In addition to this, there are so +many abrupt variations and different transitions that it requires great +talents in an actor to get through it, without incurring a share of the +contempt due to the character. Viewing him in this way, we could not +help regretting that it should devolve upon a young actor, who could +scarcely expect to escape unhurt in it. Our surprise was great, nor was +our pleasure less, to find in Mr. Wood's performance, a pleasing marked +delineation of the best features of Alonzo, with the worst considerably +softened and relieved. Seldom is a character so indebted to the aid of +an actor as this to the judgment of Mr. Wood. Dr. Young's muse flags +most dolefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> in this part, and Mr. Wood did more than could be +expected to bear her up. We could not help wishing upon the occasion +that Alonzo could have bartered a portion of his judgment for a share of +the physical powers of Zanga; both would profit by the exchange.</p> + +<p>In the Copper Captain Mr. Wood had a character very favourable to the +actor, and well suited to his powers and talents. Michael, however, is +one of those vigorous productions of the old comic muse in which a +player incurs the danger of overshooting the mark in his efforts not to +fall short of it. One in which while the judicious actor luxuriates, and +gives a force to his whole comic powers, he finds it difficult to +observe very strictly the <i>ne quid nimis</i> of the critic. The correct and +chaste judgment of Mr. Wood kept the bridle so firm on his performance +of it, that we do not think he once "o'erstepped the modesty of nature."</p> + +<p>In his performance of Iago we thought Mr. Wood inferior to himself. How +could he or any actor be expected to get through his business under the +circumstances of the theatre on that evening. A band of drunken butchers +had got into two of the front boxes, and converted them into a +grog-shop!</p> + +<p>In the prince of Wales in Henry IV. Mr. Wood displayed the versatility +of his talents. In the gay, thoughtless, trifling rake, the "madcap" +prince, he was spirited, and playful without puerility; in the serious +parts, whether as the penitent apologizing son, or the martial hero, he +was judicious, impressive, and not deficient in military importance.</p> + +<p>Where we see so much merit, merit so entirely his own, we advert to +faults with great reluctance. But it is our duty and we must do it. Of +the contagious nature of the <span class="smcap">Kemble plague</span> in acting we cannot adduce a +more lamentable proof than that it sometimes taints even this very +judicious performer. How has it been endured by the British public, how +can it be reconciled to common sense, that players who are supposed to +represent human beings, and who assume to speak and act as men in real +existence, speak and act in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> commerce of the world, should +constantly utter the lines set down for them, in such a manner as no +rational creature in real life ever yet did utter them, or ever will? +Does it give force, interest or dignity to the lines of a speech to take +up twice or thrice as much time in speaking them as the most formal, +deliberate, or pompous prig of an orator would employ upon them? Why +will not actors condescend to speak "<i>like the folks of this world</i>," +particularly as they pretend to imitate them? We never were at a royal +levee—but we have been at the pains to ask several persons who have +been, whether any king, or prince, or peer spoke there, as Mr. Kemble or +as Mr. Holman, or Mr. Pope after him, speak in Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth, +&c. and the uniform answer has been that the great men at court speak +just like all gentlemen in private society. As to public orators, we can +say that Mr. Kemble and his disciples occupy one third, or at least one +fourth more time in delivering any given number of words than ever the +stately William Pitt in his most slow and solemn exordiums. Yet this +they call speaking naturally—imitating the conduct of men.</p> + +<p>We do not allude to proper <i>pauses</i>, in the duration of which the actor +may be allowed some little license—and an extension of which is +frequently a beauty. Thus when <i>Balthazar</i> informs <i>Romeo</i> of <i>Juliet's</i> +death, Mr. Cooper maintained a pause of great length with the most +felicitous effect. He stood overwhelmed, stupified, and bereft of speech +with horror and astonishment, then said</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is it even so?—then I defy you stars!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and paused again. Here like a great artist he filled up the picture of +which Shakspeare only gave the outlines: but when, afterwards he +expostulated with the apothecary, we could see no reason why he should +deliver out the lines syllable by syllable like drops of blood +reluctantly given from the heart.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Art—thou—so—bare—and—full—of—wretchedness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—fear'st—to—die?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>To us the last appeared as ludicrous as the former was beautiful and +affecting. But, "in the name of all the gods at once," why this? Though +Mr. Wood sometimes falls into this error, a few of the first lines of +his Jaffier smacked of it wofully. We should find no apprehension of +laying any sum upon it, if the thing could possibly be ascertained, that +in pronouncing the words</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not hear me! by my sufferings but you shall!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lord—my lord! I'm not that abject wretch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he occupied full double the time that Barry did, or even the late +Hodgkinson, whose good fortune it was not to have studied, or seen, or +drawn one drop of his professional sap from the great root of these +abuses. It is said by some of Mr. Kemble's advocates that he speaks in +that manner from necessity—that he does it to nurse his voice in the +beginning, which else would flag before the end of a long performance. +If this were a sufficient excuse for Mr. K. we should not disallow it in +the case of any other gentleman who labours under the disadvantage of a +weak voice. But we think it is not; it would be infinitely better for +the audience to compound with the actor and allow him resting between +the speech times. The majestic Spranger Barry when we last saw him was +not only so decrepit that he hobbled along the stage, and so bent in the +middle that his body formed an angle with his lower limbs, almost as +acute as that of a mounted telescope, but was so encumbered by infirmity +and high living that upon any violent exertion of the lungs he puffed +very painfully; yet even in that state we have heard him speak the part +of <i>Rhadamistus</i> in <i>Zenobia</i>, with all the fire, rapidity, and +animation of youth, his fine person all the time raised erect for the +purpose: but as soon as the speech was over, down he sunk again to his +angle, and puffed and blowed, while the audience, with emotions mixed up +of admiration and grief gazed in a kind of melancholy delight on the +finest ruin that ever time made in the works of nature: thunders and +shouts of plaudits<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> filled the house; every female was seen gazing upon +the wonderful man as if her eyes were nailed upon their axes, and were +melting away with floods of tears, while he, from a face of almost +divine sweetness, gave back their love and their indulgence with +interest. He was allowed to take his own time—not in the speeches, but +between them.</p> + +<p>Though these remarks are introduced in a part of our criticism dedicated +to the performances of Mr. Wood, we by no means would have it understood +that it applies exclusively, or even particularly to him. There is no +performer on the American stage, perhaps, to whom they less frequently +apply; but we have started the subject with him purposely to point out +by an instance <i>a fortiori</i> how dangerous it is to a young actor, not to +guard against a great imperfection. When he whose sound judgment and +industry may reasonably be supposed to secure him from such errors, +insensibly falls into them, actors of inferior capacity and less +industry will see, or at least ought to see the necessity of standing +upon a more vigilant guard.</p> + +<p>Since the subject is started we will proceed with it, though perhaps to +the exclusion from this number of some other matter originally intended +for it. Can those, who, loving the drama, and feeling its beauties with +a true classic spirit, wish to see the public taste won over to the +tragic muse, hope that it can be accomplished, or can they be surprised +that on the contrary, tragedy so often excites merriment when they +reflect upon the way dramatic poetry is often delivered upon the stage. +Let the first three men who pass by the playhouse door be called in, one +of them taken from the highest order of life, a second from the middle +order, and the third from the very lowest class—let them hear a tragedy +through, or even some parts of a comedy, and let them then give their +verdict as on oath, whether what they heard, resembled anything they had +ever heard before out of a playhouse, or perchance a madhouse, and they +must answer in the negative or perjure themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was one of the evils which Garrick had the glory of eradicating. +Just before him, actors spoke in the ti-tum-ti monotonous sing-song way +of the new school. Old Macklin some years ago, assured the writer of +this, that except in some few declamatory speeches, or in the ghost of +Hamlet, <span class="smcap">Quin</span> would not be endured at that time in tragedy: and what said +this Quin himself when he was prevailed upon to go to Goodman's Fields +to see Garrick for the first time? "I dont know what to say," he replied +to one who asked his opinion of the young actor, "but if he be right, +<i>we have all been wrong</i>." Quin's integrity would not let him deny a +truth which his judgment told him in the very teeth of his prejudices.</p> + +<p>Absurd and <i>unnatural</i> as this miserable mode of speech is, it is very +difficult to be got rid of, when it once becomes habitual to an actor; a +memorable instance of which was old <span class="smcap">Mr. Wignell</span> of Covent garden, the +father of our late manager. He was one of the Quin school, and if now +alive and able to act, would once more hitch in very handsomely with the +recitativers of the new academy of acting, for, says the author of the +Thespian dictionary, "<i>He possessed the singular talent of imparting +stateliness to comic dialogues, and merriment to tragic scenes.</i>" Of +this gentleman many anecdotes are recorded, curious in themselves, and +well deserving the consideration of young actors.</p> + +<p>Upon the revival of the tragedy of Cato in London (Cato by Sheridan) Mr. +Wignell was put forward in his old established part of Portius. In the +first scene he stepped forward in his accustomed strut and began</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dawn is overcast, the morning low'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavily with clouds brings on the day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At this moment the audience began to vociferate "prologue, prologue, +prologue," when Wignell finding them resolute without moving from the +spot, without pausing, or changing his tone of voice, but in all the +pomposity of tragedy, went on as if it were part of the play.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ladies and gentlemen, there has been no<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prologue spoken to this play these twenty years—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great, the important day, big with the fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cato and of Rome."——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This wonderful effusion put the audience in good humour—they laughed +incontinently—clapped and shouted <i>bravo</i>, and Wignell proceeded with +his usual stateliness, self-complacency, and composure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wignell's biographer above mentioned relates the following anecdote. +"During a rehearsal of <i>the suspicious husband</i>, Mr. Garrick exclaimed +"pray Mr. Wignell, why cannot you enter and say, "<i>Mr. Strictland, sir, +your coach is ready</i>", without all the declamatory pomp of Booth or +Quin?"—"Upon my soul, Mr. Garrick," replied poor Wignell, "<i>I thought I +had kept the sentiment down as much as possible.</i>"" When Macklin +performed <i>Macbeth</i> Wignell played the <i>doctor</i>, and in this serious +character provoked loud fits of laughter.</p> + +<p>The above facts contain a valuable lesson to actors, some of whom can, +no more than Mr. Wignell, <i>get the sentiment down</i>, when they have an +event of such importance to announce as <i>the coach being ready</i>. In +serious truth we are persuaded that the fulsome, bombastical ridiculous +stateliness of some actors, tends to bring tragedy into disrepute, to +deprive it of its high preeminence, and must ultimately disgust the +multitude with some of the noblest productions of the human mind.</p> + +<p>Two other characters of the tragedies already alluded to, demand from +the justice of criticism the most full and unmixed praise. <i>Falstaff</i> in +Henry IV. and <i>Cacafogo</i> in Rule a Wife and have a Wife, had in Mr. +Warren a most able representative. Having seen several—the select ones +of the last five and thirty years—we can truly say, without entering +into nice comparisons, that if we were to sit to those two plays a +hundred times in America or Great Britain, we could be well contented +with just such a Falstaff and just such a Cacafogo as Mr. Warren.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><i>The Foundling of the Forest.</i></h4> + +<p>In our first number we made a few observations on this comedy. They were +not very favourable to it; and, notwithstanding its great success in +representation, we are not at all disposed to retract any of them, +because our opinion of the intrinsic value of the piece is not in the +least altered. In representation it is all—in the closet nothing. This +arises from the conduct of the plot, which indeed constitutes the whole +of its merit. In Europe, as in America, the judgment of every critic is +at variance with the decision of the multitude upon it, for while at the +Lyceum it has been applauded by "the million," it has been lashed by the +judicious, in various respectable publications.</p> + +<p>The time has been, nor has it long passed by, when that body in the +community who decided the fate of every literary performance, far from +being contented with <span class="smcap">effect</span> upon the stage, condemned it, if it were not +produced by an adequate <span class="smcap">cause</span> in nature. To that body the Farrago of +Melodrame, written spectacle, and mysterious agency, would have been +objects of ridicule or disapprobation, and the just influence of their +opinions upon the public would have driven back the German muse with all +her paraphernalia of tempests, castles, dungeons, and murderers, to rave +on her native ground: except in their proper place (farce or pantomime) +they would not have been tolerated. To write only to the passions, to +expose human beings to circumstances that cannot in the natural course +of life occur, and release them by means which outrage all probability, +and to those ends to urge vice and virtue beyond all possible bounds, +and fabricate extreme characters such as have rarely or never existed, +characters either better than saints, or worse than devils, for the mere +purpose of producing horror and astonishment, and hanging up the +feelings of the multitude on the tenterhooks of fearful suspense and +painful apprehension—to violate all the rules prescribed by nature and +experience, and place heroes and heroines in situations so far out of +the course of human conduct, that the poet cannot get them out again by +rational, feasible means, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> is compelled to leave their fate to the +guess of the spectators by picturesque grouping and dropping the +curtain. What is this but to reverse the very nature of the drama, +"Whose end," says its father Shakspeare, "both at the first and now, was +and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to Nature, to show Virtue her +own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time +his form and pressure."</p> + +<p>By such miserable expedients as these, the fascinating effects of the +Foundling of the Forest are produced. But in the management of those +materials, the author has displayed unparalleled skill. The story in its +original outline is certainly interesting, and the plot is not only +skilfully developed but artfully contrived as a vehicle for stage +effect—for such merely, has the author evidently intended it; his +arrangement of the machinery, such as it is, demands warm praise for its +perspicuity and just order, and if the alarming and horrific be +legitimate objects for a dramatist, Mr. Dimond has succeeded most +marvellously.</p> + +<p>The sorriest critic, however, knows that horror ought not to be produced +on the stage. The boundary that separates terror from horror, is the +lawful limit—the line not to be broken—the <i>Rubicon</i> which when the +poet passes, he commits treason against the sovereign laws of the drama. +The <i>mighty magician of Udolpho</i>, as the author of the pursuits of +Literature calls Mrs. Radcliff, with powers almost beyond human, infused +into the British public a taste for the horrible which has not yet been +palled by the nauseous draughts of it, poured forth by her impotent +successors. One would think that, like Macbeth, the novel and play +reading world had by this time, supped full of horrors; but not +so—every season brings forth a new proof that that taste so far from +being extinguished, has grown to an appetite canine and ravenous which +devours with indiscriminating greediness the elegant cates of the +sumptuous, board and the offal of the shambles; provided only that they +have sufficient of the German haut-gout of the marvellous and horrible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Plot—plot—plot</i>," says an enlightened British critic, "have been Mr. +Dimond's three studies." But what shall be said of the characters. To +any one who frequents the theatre, the characters of Longueville, +L'Eclair, Gaspard, Rosabelle, and perhaps more, are quite familiar. They +are among the worn out slippers of the modern dramatists. The character +of Bertrand is a moral novelty on the stage, and not less unnatural than +novel. Unnatural, not because he repents with a remorse truly horrible, +but because, while filled with that remorse, he submits to be a murderer +and a villian rather than violate an <i>oath</i> he had made to perpetrate +any crime Longueville should command. This unfortunate wretch is kept in +torments through the whole play, and after having by an act of bold and +resolute virtue expiated his crimes and brought about the happy +catastrophe of the piece, is left to sneak off unrewarded. As to +Florian, though obviously intended for the hero of the tale, he is a +strange nondescript, in whose language the author has given buffoonery +by way of wit, and bombast by way of dignity. The Count De Valmont is a +most interesting personage, and so is the countess Eugenia.</p> + +<p>Of the acting we can with truth speak more favourably than of the +writing. The characters throughout were well supported; but Mr. Wood in +De Valmont and Mr. M'Kenzie in Bertrand were so striking and impressive +that the critic's attention was chiefly attracted by them. Mr. Wood's +performance was exquisitely fine even on the first night, and every +repetition disclosed augmented excellence. In the second scene of the +second act, where Bertrand prostrates himself before Eugenia, Mr. +M'Kenzie presented in his posture of supplication, such a natural yet +terrible, picture of the humiliating effects of guilt and consequent +remorse, as could not fail to make an awful impression on the most +hardened and unfeeling sinner. In Longueville Mr. Warren was, as he +always is, correct and respectable, and Mr. Cone made much more of the +ticklish part of Florian than we had a right to expect. In L'Eclair Mr. +Jefferson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> was, as he seldom fails to be, diverting: But on a future +occasion we propose saying a few words, by way of friendly expostulation +with this powerful actor, who, yielding to the baneful itch for gallery +applause, is gradually sullying some of the finest talents, once the +chastest, too, upon the stage. In his Rosabelle (Mrs. Wilmot) he might +see admirable comic powers, and great histrionic skill, which the public +applause of years has not yet misled into the vulgar track—"the pitiful +ambition of setting on some quantity of <i>barren</i> spectators to laugh" by +buffoonery.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wood maintained her long acknowledged claim upon the respect and +approbation of her audience, and gained for the lovely sufferer Eugenia, +all the sympathy which the author could have hoped to excite. Always +highly interesting, one can't tell why—never incorrect or +indifferent—often extremely impressive in characters of a serious cast, +we think that comedy is her <i>forte</i>. In several parts, some too indeed +which verged upon the lower comedy, we have noticed enough to convince +us, that by a studious, and as far as might be, exclusive attention to +the comic muse, Mrs. W. would soon become one of her most distinguished +favourites.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In our next number Mr. <span class="smcap">Cooper's</span> second series of performances will be +attended to—particularly his <i>Orsino</i>, in which it gives us pleasure to +observe that we could not discover a fault, but all was uniform +excellence. This character we consider as making an era in the history +of Mr. Cooper's acting. <span class="smcap">Alphonso</span> is a tragedy which merits frequent +repetition.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A" id="A"></a>A</h2> + +<h2>NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS,</h2> + +<h4>A COMEDY,</h4> + +<h3>IN FIVE ACTS.</h3> + +<h3>BY PHILIP MASSINGER, ESQ.</h3> + + + +<p class="center">PRINTED FOR BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD-STREET,<br /> +PHILADELPHIA; INSKEEP AND BRADFORD, NEW-YORK;<br /> +AND WILLIAM M'ILHENNY, BOSTON,<br /> +BY SMITH AND M'KENZIE.<br /><br /> + +1810.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2>A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.</h2> + +<h3>DRAMATIS PERSONAE.</h3> + +<p> +Lord Lovell.<br /> +Sir Giles Overreach.<br /> +Justice Greedy.<br /> +Wellborn.<br /> +Allworth.<br /> +Marall.<br /> +Order.<br /> +Furnace.<br /> +Amble.<br /> +Tapwell.<br /> +Welldo.<br /> +Watchall.<br /> +Vintner.<br /> +Tailor.<br /> +Creditors.<br /> +Lady Allworth.<br /> +Margaret.<br /> +Froth.<br /> +Bridget.<br /> +Barbara.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2> + + +<h3>SCENE I.—<i>The Outside of a Village Alehouse.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Wellborn, Tapwell, <i>and</i> Froth, <i>from the House.</i></h4> + +<p> +<i>Wellb.</i> No liquor? nor no credit?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> None, sir, for you;<br /> +Not the remainder of a single can,<br /> +Left by a drunken porter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir:<br /> +'Tis verity, I assure you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Verity, you brach!<br /> +The devil turn'd precisian! Rogue, what am I?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Troth! durst I trust you with a looking-glass,<br /> +To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me,<br /> +And take the name yourself.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> How? dog!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Even so, sir.<br /> +And I must tell you, if you but advance a foot,<br /> +There dwells, and within call (if it please your worship,)<br /> +A potent monarch, call'd the constable,<br /> +That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks;<br /> +Such as with great dexterity will haul<br /> +Your poor tatter'd——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Rascal! slave!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> No rage, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> At his own peril! Do not put yourself<br /> +In too much heat; there being no water near<br /> +To quench your thirst: and sure, for other liquor,<br /> +I take it,<br /> +You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou talk thus?<br /> +Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell<br /> +Does keep no other register.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Am not I he<br /> +Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee? Wert thou not<br /> +Born on my father's land, and proud to be<br /> +A drudge in his house?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> What I was, sir, it skills not;<br /> +What you are, is apparent. Now, for a farewell:<br /> +Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,<br /> +I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,<br /> +My quondam master, was a man of worship;<br /> +Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace, and quorum;<br /> +And stood fair to be custos rotulorum:<br /> +Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a great house:<br /> +Reliev'd the poor, and so forth: but he dying,<br /> +And the twelve hundred a-year coming to you,<br /> +Late Mr. Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> Very hardly,<br /> +You cannot be out of your way.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> But to my story; I shall proceed, sir:<br /> +You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant,<br /> +And I your under-butler: note the change now;<br /> +You had a merry time of't: Hawks and hounds;<br /> +With choice of running horses; mistresses,<br /> +And other such extravagancies;<br /> +Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing,<br /> +Resolving not to lose so fair an opportunity,<br /> +On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,<br /> +For a while supplied your lavishness; and<br /> +Having got your land, then left you.<br /> +While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little stock,<br /> +Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage;<br /> +Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here;<br /> +Gave entertainment——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Yes, to whores and pickpockets.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> True; but they brought in profit;<br /> +And had a gift to pay what they call'd for;<br /> +And stuck not like your mastership. The poor income<br /> +I glean'd from them, hath made me, in my parish,<br /> +Thought worthy to be scavenger; and, in time,<br /> +May rise to be overseer of the poor:<br /> +Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn,<br /> +I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter;<br /> +And you shall thank my worship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Thus, you dog-bolt——<br /> +And thus—— [<i>Beats him.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Cry out for help!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Stir, and thou diest:<br /> +Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save you.<br /> +Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! Did not I<br /> +Make purses for you? Then you lick'd my boots<br /> +And thought your holiday coat too coarse to clean them.<br /> +'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever<br /> +Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst<br /> +Live like an emperor; 'twas I that gave it,<br /> +In ready gold. Deny this, wretch!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> I cannot, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> They are well rewarded<br /> +That beggar themselves to make such rascals rich.<br /> +Thou viper, thankless viper!<br /> +But since you are grown forgetful, I will help<br /> +Your memory, and beat thee into remembrance;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>Not leave one bone unbroken.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Oh!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Hold; for my sake, hold!<br /> +Deny me, Frank? they are not worth your anger?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> For once thou hast redeem'd them from<br /> +this sceptre: [<i>Shaking his Cudgel.</i><br /> +But let them vanish;<br /> +For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> This comes of your prating, husband! you presum'd<br /> +On your ambling wit, and must use your glib tongue,<br /> +Though you are beaten lame for't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Patience, Froth,<br /> +There's no law to cure our bruises.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>They go off into the House.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Sent for to your mother?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> My lady, Frank! my patroness! my all!<br /> +She's such a mourner for my father's death,<br /> +And, in her love to him, so favours me,<br /> +That I cannot pay too much observance to her.<br /> +There are few such stepdames.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> 'Tis a noble widow,<br /> +And keeps her reputation pure, and clear<br /> +From the least taint.<br /> +Pr'ythee, tell me<br /> +Has she no suitors?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Even the best of the shire, Frank,<br /> +My lord excepted: such as sue, and send,<br /> +And send, and sue again; but to no purpose.<br /> +Their frequent visits have not gain'd her presence;<br /> +Yet, she's so far from sullenness and pride,<br /> +That, I dare undertake, you shall meet from her<br /> +A liberal entertainment.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I doubt it not: but hear me, Allworth,<br /> +And take from me good counsel, I am bound to give it.——<br /> +Thy father was my friend; and that affection<br /> +I bore to him, in right descends to thee:<br /> +Thou art a handsome, and a hopeful youth,<br /> +Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee,<br /> +If I with any danger can prevent it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I thank your noble care; but, pray you, in what<br /> +Do I run the hazard?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Art thou not in love?<br /> +Put it not off with wonder.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> In love?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent.<br /> +I have heard all, and the choice that you have made;<br /> +And with my finger, can point out the north star,<br /> +By which the loadstone of your folly's guided.<br /> +And, to confirm this true, what think you of<br /> +Fair Margaret, the only child, and heir<br /> +Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start,<br /> +To hear her only nam'd? Blush at your want<br /> +Of wit and reason.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Howe'er you have discovered my intents,<br /> +You know my aims are lawful; and if ever<br /> +The queen of flowers, the glory of the Spring,<br /> +The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose,<br /> +Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer,<br /> +There's such disparity in their conditions,<br /> +Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter,<br /> +And the base churl her father.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Grant this true,<br /> +As I believe it; canst thou ever hope<br /> +To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father<br /> +Ruin'd thy state?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> And yours, too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I confess it, Allworth. But,<br /> +I must tell you as a friend, and freely,<br /> +Where impossibilities are apparent.<br /> +Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind thee)<br /> +That Sir Giles Overreach (that, to make her great<br /> +In swelling titles, without touch of conscience,<br /> +Will cut his neighbour's throat, and, I hope, his own too)<br /> +Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er,<br /> +And think of some course suitable to thy rank,<br /> +And prosper in it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> You have well advis'd me.<br /> +But, in the meantime, you that are so studious<br /> +Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own.<br /> +Remember yourself, and in what plight you are.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> No matter! no matter!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Yes, 'tis much material:<br /> +You know my fortune, and my means; yet something<br /> +I can spare from myself, to help your wants.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> How's this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Nay, be not angry. There's eight pieces<br /> +To put you in better fashion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Money from thee?<br /> +From a boy? a dependant? one that lives<br /> +At the devotion of a step-mother,<br /> +And the uncertain favour of a lord?<br /> +I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind Fortune<br /> +Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me;<br /> +Though I am thrust out of an alehouse,<br /> +And thus accoutred; know not where to eat,<br /> +Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy;<br /> +Although I thank thee, I disdain thy offer.<br /> +And as I, in my madness, broke my state,<br /> +Without the assistance of another's brain,<br /> +In my right wits I'll piece it. At the worst,<br /> +Die thus, and be forgotten. [<i>Exeunt severally.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE II.—<i>A Chamber in</i> Lady Allworth's <i>House.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Furnace, Amble, Order, <i>and</i> Watchall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Order.</i> Set all things right; or as my name is Order,<br /> +Whoever misses in his function,<br /> +For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast,<br /> +And privilege in the wine-cellar.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> You are merry,<br /> +Good master steward.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Let him; I'll be angry.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet,<br /> +Nor dinner taking up: then 'tis allow'd,<br /> +Cooks by their places, may be choleric.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> You think you have spoken wisely, goodman Amble,<br /> +My lady's go-before.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Nay, nay, no wrangling.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Twit me with the authority of the kitchen?<br /> +At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry:<br /> +And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers<br /> +I will be angry.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> There was no hurt meant.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> With whom?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> No matter whom: yet, now I think on't,<br /> +I'm angry with my lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Heaven forbid, man!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> What cause has she given thee?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Cause enough, master steward:<br /> +I was entertained by her to please her palate;<br /> +And, till she foreswore eating, I perform'd it.<br /> +Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died,<br /> +Though I crack'd my brains to find out tempting sauces,<br /> +And raise fortifications in the pastry,<br /> +When I am three parts roasted,<br /> +And the fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands,<br /> +She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada,<br /> +Or water-gruel, my skill never thought on.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> But your art is seen in the dining room.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> By whom?<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>By such as pretend to love her; but come<br /> +To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies<br /> +That do devour her, I am out of charity<br /> +With none so much, as the thin-gutted squire,<br /> +That's stolen into commission.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Justice Greedy?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> The same, the same. Meat's cast away upon him;<br /> +It never thrives. He holds this paradox,<br /> +Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well.<br /> +His stomach's as insatiate as the grave.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Watch.</i> One knocks.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[Allworth <i>knocks, and enters.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Order.</i> Our late young master.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Welcome, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Your hand—<br /> +If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat's ready.<br /> +We are all your servants.<br /> +<br /> +<i>All.</i> At once, my thanks to all:<br /> +This is yet some comfort. Is my lady stirring?<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth.</p> + +<p> +<i>Order.</i> Her presence answers for us.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Sort those silks well.<br /> +I'll take the air alone.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> You air, and air;<br /> +But will never taste but spoon meat more:<br /> +To what use serve I?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Pr'ythee, be not angry,<br /> +I shall, ere long: i'th' mean time, there<br /> +Is gold for thee.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> I am appeas'd—and Furnace now grows cold.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> And, as I gave directions, if this morning<br /> +I am visited by any, entertain them<br /> +As heretofore: but say, in my excuse,<br /> +I am indispos'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> I shall, madam.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Do, and leave me.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i> Order, Amble, Watchall <i>and</i> Furnace.</p> + +<p> +Nay, stay you, Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I shall gladly grow here,<br /> +To wait on your commands.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> So soon turn'd courtier?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Style not that courtship, madam, which is duty,<br /> +Purchased on your part.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Well, you shall o'ercome;<br /> +I'll not contend in words. How is it<br /> +With your noble master?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Ever like himself.<br /> +No scruple lessen'd in the full weight of honour:<br /> +He did command me (pardon my presumption),<br /> +As his unworthy deputy,<br /> +To kiss your ladyship's fair hands.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I am honour'd in<br /> +His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose<br /> +For the Low Countries?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Constantly, good madam:<br /> +But he will, in person, first present his service.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> And how approve you of his course? You are yet<br /> +Like virgin parchment, capable of any<br /> +Inscription, vitious or honourable.<br /> +I will not force your will, but leave you free<br /> +To your own election.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Any form you please<br /> +I will put on: but might I make my choice,<br /> +With humble emulation, I would follow<br /> +The path my lord marks to me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> 'Tis well answer'd,<br /> +And I commend your spirit: you had a father,<br /> +(Bless'd be his memory) that some few hours<br /> +Before the will of Heaven took him from me,<br /> +Did commend you, by the dearest ties<br /> +Of perfect love between us, to my charge:<br /> +And, therefore, what I speak, you are bound to hear<br /> +With such respect, as if he liv'd in me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I have found you,<br /> +Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me;<br /> +And with my utmost strength of care and service,<br /> +Will labour that you never may repent<br /> +Your bounties shower'd upon me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I much hope it.<br /> +These were your father's words: If e'er my son<br /> +Follow the war, tell him it is a school<br /> +Where all the principles tending to honour<br /> +Are taught, if truly follow'd: But for such<br /> +As repair thither, as a place in which<br /> +They do presume, they may with license practise<br /> +Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit<br /> +The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly<br /> +In a fair cause, and for the country's safety,<br /> +To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted;<br /> +To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies;<br /> +To bear with patience the winter's cold,<br /> +And summer's scorching heat—<br /> +Are the essential parts make up a soldier;<br /> +Not swearing, dice, or drinking.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> There's no syllable<br /> +You speak, but it is to me an oracle;<br /> +Which but to doubt were impious.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> To conclude—<br /> +Beware ill company; for, often, men<br /> +Are like to those with whom they do converse:<br /> +And from one man I warn you, and that's Wellborn:<br /> +Not cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity;<br /> +But that he's in his manners so debauch'd,<br /> +And hath to vitious courses sold himself.<br /> +'Tis true your father lov'd him, while he was<br /> +Worthy the loving; but, if he had liv'd<br /> +To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off,<br /> +As you must do.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I shall obey in all things.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Follow me to my chamber; you shall have gold<br /> +To furnish you like my son, and still supplied<br /> +As I hear from you. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE III.—<i>A Hall in Lady</i> Allworth's <i>House.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, Furnace, Watchall, <i>and</i> +Marall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Greedy.</i> Not to be seen?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Still cloister'd up?—Her reason,<br /> +I hope, assures her, though she makes herself<br /> +Close prisoner for ever for her husband's loss,<br /> +'Twill not recover him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Sir, it is her will:<br /> +Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve,<br /> +And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome:<br /> +And if you please to stay, that you may think so,<br /> +There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe<br /> +Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself<br /> +For my lady's honour.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Is it of the right race?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Yes, Mr. Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> How his mouth runs o'er!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> I'll make it run, and run. 'Save your good worship!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand; again!—How I love thee!<br /> +Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> If you have a mind to feed there is a chine<br /> +Of beef, well season'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Good.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> A pheasant larded—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> That I might now give thanks for't!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Other kickshaws.<br /> +Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood,<br /> +The fattest stag I ever cook'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> A stag, man?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner,<br /> +And bak'd in puff-paste.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Puff-paste too, Sir Giles!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded!<br /> +And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-paste!<br /> +All business set aside, let us give thanks here.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You know, we cannot.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Your worships are to sit on a commission,<br /> +And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy</i> Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for such a dinner,<br /> +We may put off a commission; you shall find it<br /> +<i>Henrici decimo quarto</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Fie, Mr. Greedy!<br /> +Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?<br /> +No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,<br /> +When we think of profit.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy</i> Well, you shall o'er-rule me.<br /> +I could even cry now. Do you hear, Mr. Cook?<br /> +Send but a corner of that immortal pasty;<br /> +And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,<br /> +Send you a brace of three-pences.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Will you be so prodigal?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Remember me to your lady.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Wellborn.</p> + +<p> +Who have we here?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Don't you know me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I did once, but now I will not;<br /> +Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar!<br /> +If ever thou presume to own me more,<br /> +I'll have thee cag'd and whipt.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I'll grant the warrant. [<i>Exit</i> Marall.<br /> +I do love thee, Furnace,<br /> +E'en as I do malmsey in a morning.<br /> +Think of pye-corner, Furnace!<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i> Sir Giles <i>and</i> Greedy.</p> + +<p> +<i>Watch.</i> Will you out, sir?<br /> +I wonder how you durst creep in.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> This is rudeness,<br /> +And saucy impudence.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Cannot you stay<br /> +To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket,<br /> +But you must press into the hall?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Pr'ythee, vanish<br /> +Into some outhouse, though it be the pigsty;<br /> +My scullion shall come to thee.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> This is rare:<br /> +Oh, here is Tom Allworth! Tom!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> We must be strangers;<br /> +Nor would I have seen you here for a million.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Better and better. He contemns me too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Woman <i>and</i> Chambermaid.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Woman.</i> Oh! what a smell's here? What thing is this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Cham.</i> Oh! a filthy creature!<br /> +Let us hence, for love's sake, or I shall swoon!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Woman.</i> I begin to faint, too. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Watch.</i> Will you know your way?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Or shall we teach it you,<br /> +By the head and shoulders?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> No; I will not stir:<br /> +Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch<br /> +That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves<br /> +Created only to make legs, and cringe;<br /> +To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher;<br /> +That have not souls to hope a blessing<br /> +Beyond your master's leavings; you that were born<br /> +Only to consume meat and drink;<br /> +Who advances? Who shows me the way?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Here comes my lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> What noise is this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Madam, my designs bear me to you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> To me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> And though I have met with<br /> +But ragged entertainment from your groom here,<br /> +I hope from you to receive that noble usage,<br /> +As may become the true friend of your husband;<br /> +And then I shall forget these.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I am amaz'd,<br /> +To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think,<br /> +Though sworn, that it can ever find belief,<br /> +That I, who to the best men of this country<br /> +Denied my presence since my husband's death,<br /> +Can fall so low as to change words with thee?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Scorn me not, good lady;<br /> +But, as in form you are angelical,<br /> +Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe<br /> +At least awhile to hear me. You will grant,<br /> +The blood that runs in this arm is as noble<br /> +As that which fills your veins; your swelling titles,<br /> +Equipage and fortune; your men's observance,<br /> +And women's flattery, are in you no virtues;<br /> +Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.<br /> +You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it;<br /> +Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more<br /> +Than in the pious sorrow you have shown<br /> +For your late noble husband.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> How she starts!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> That husband, madam, was once in his fortune,<br /> +Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and quarrels,<br /> +Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought<br /> +A boast in me, though I say, I reliev'd him.<br /> +'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword<br /> +That did on all occasions second his;<br /> +I brought him on and off with honour, lady:<br /> +And when in all men's judgments he was sunk,<br /> +And in his own hopes not to be buoyed up;<br /> +I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand,<br /> +And brought him to the shore.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Are not we base rogues<br /> +That could forget this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I confess you made him<br /> +Master of your estate; nor could your friends.<br /> +Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't:<br /> +For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind<br /> +Made up of all parts, either great or noble,<br /> +So winning a behaviour, not to be<br /> +Resisted, madam.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> 'Tis most true, he had.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> For his sake then, in that I was his friend,<br /> +Do not contemn me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> For what's past excuse me;<br /> +I will redeem it.<br /> +Order, give this gentleman an hundred pounds.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Madam, on no terms:<br /> +I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you;<br /> +But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever.<br /> +Only one suit I make, which you deny not<br /> +To strangers; and 'tis this: pray give me leave.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Whispers to her.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> [<i>Aside.</i>] What means this, I trow?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Mischief to us, if he has malice<br /> +To return our favour to him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Be still, and let us mark.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Fie, nothing else?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Nothing; unless you please to charge your servants<br /> +To throw away a little respect upon me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> What you demand is yours.<br /> +If you have said all,<br /> +When you please you may retire.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I thank you, lady.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit</i> Lady Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +Now what can be wrought out of such a suit,<br /> +Is yet in supposition. [Servants <i>bow</i>,] Nay, all's forgotten, all<br /> +forgiven.<br /> +<br /> +<i>All.</i> Good, dear, sweet, merry Mr. Wellborn!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit</i> Servants.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> 'Faith, a right worthy and a liberal lady,<br /> +Who can, at once, so kindly meet my purposes,<br /> +And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem<br /> +Her husband's friend! When, by this honest plot,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>The world believes she means to heal my wants<br /> +With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor<br /> +Will be struck mute, and I be left at large<br /> +To practise on my uncle Overreach;<br /> +Whose foul, rapacious spirit, (on the hearing<br /> +Of my encouragement from this rich lady,)<br /> +Again will court me to his house and patronage.<br /> +Here I may work the measure to redeem<br /> +My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripped me of,<br /> +When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason.<br /> +The fancy pleases—if the plot succeed,<br /> +'Tis a new way to pay old debts indeed!<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2> + + +<h3>SCENE I.—Sir Giles's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach <i>and</i> Marall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> He's gone, I warrant thee; this commission crush'd him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Your worship has the way on't, and ne'er miss<br /> +To squeeze these unthrifts into air; and yet<br /> +The chap-fallen justice did his part, returning<br /> +For your advantage the certificate,<br /> +Against his conscience and his knowledge too;<br /> +(With your good favour) to the utter ruin<br /> +Of the poor farmer.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Twas for these good ends<br /> +I made him a justice. He, that bribes his belly,<br /> +Is certain to command his soul.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I wonder.<br /> +Why, your worship having<br /> +The power to put this thin-gut in commission,<br /> +You are not in't yourself.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Thou art a fool:<br /> +In being out of office, I am out of danger;<br /> +Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble,<br /> +I might, or out of wilfulness, or error,<br /> +Run myself finely into a præmunire:<br /> +And so become a prey to the informer.<br /> +No, I'll have none of't: 'tis enough I keep<br /> +Greedy at my devotion: so he serve<br /> +My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not;<br /> +Friendship is but a word.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> You are all wisdom.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I would be worldly wise; for the other wisdom,<br /> +That does prescribe us a well-govern'd life,<br /> +And to do right to others, as ourselves,<br /> +I value not an atom.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> What course take you,<br /> +(With your good patience) to hedge in the manor<br /> +Of your neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As 'tis said,<br /> +He will not sell, nor borrow, nor exchange;<br /> +And his land lying in the midst of your many lordships,<br /> +Is a foul blemish.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir. G.</i> I have thought on't, Marall;<br /> +And it shall take. I must have all men sellers,<br /> +And I the only purchaser.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Tis most fit, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I'll, therefore, buy some cottage near his manor;<br /> +Which done, I'll make my men break ope' his fences,<br /> +Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the night<br /> +Set fire to his barns, or break his cattle's legs.<br /> +These trespasses draw on suits, and suits, expenses;<br /> +Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him.<br /> +When I have hurried him thus, two or three years,<br /> +Though he was sue forma pauperis, in spite<br /> +Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behind hand.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> The best I ever heard! I could adore you!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Then, with the favour of my man of law,<br /> +I will pretend some title; want will force him<br /> +To put it to arbitrement; then, if he sell<br /> +For half the value, he shall have ready money,<br /> +And I possess the land.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not<br /> +These fine arts, sir, to hook him in.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Well thought on.<br /> +This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long, to upbraid me<br /> +With my close cheat put upon him. Will nor cold<br /> +Nor hunger kill him?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I know not what to think on't.<br /> +I have us'd all means; and the last night I caus'd<br /> +His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors;<br /> +And have been since with all your friends and tenants,<br /> +And on the forfeit of your favour, charg'd them,<br /> +Tho' a crust of mouldy bread would keep him from starving,<br /> +Yet they should not relieve him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> That was something, Marall, but thou must go farther;<br /> +And suddenly, Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Where, and when you please, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I would have thee seek him out; and, if thou canst,<br /> +Persuade him, that 'tis better steal, than beg;<br /> +Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost,<br /> +Not all the world shall save him from the gallows.<br /> +Do anything to work him to despair,<br /> +And 'tis thy masterpiece.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I will do my best, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I am now on my main work, with the Lord Lovell;<br /> +The gallant-minded, popular Lord Lovell,<br /> +The minion of the people's love. I hear<br /> +He's come into the country; and my aims are<br /> +To insinuate myself into his knowledge,<br /> +And then invite him to my house.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I have you.<br /> +This points at my young mistress.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> She must part with<br /> +That humble title, and write honourable;<br /> +Right honourable, Marall; my right honourable daughter;<br /> +If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it.<br /> +I will have her well attended; there are ladies<br /> +Of errant knights decay'd, and brought so low,<br /> +That, for cast clothes, and meat, will gladly serve her.<br /> +And 'tis my glory, though I come from the city,<br /> +To have their issue, whom I have undone,<br /> +To kneel to mine, as bond slaves.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Tis fit state, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> And, therefore, I'll not have a chambermaid<br /> +That ties her shoes, or any meaner office,<br /> +But such, whose fathers were right worshipful.<br /> +'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been<br /> +More than a feud, a strange antipathy,<br /> +Between us, and true gentry.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> See! who's here, sir?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Hence, monster! prodigy!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Call me what you will, I am your nephew, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Avoid my sight! thy breath's infectious, rogue!<br /> +I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague.<br /> +Come hither, Marall, this is the time to work him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I warrant you, sir.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit</i> Sir Giles Overreach.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> By this light, I think he's mad.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Mad! had you took compassion on yourself,<br /> +You long since had been mad.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> You have took a course,<br /> +Between you and my venerable uncle,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>To make me so.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> The more pale-spirited you,<br /> +That would not be instructed. I swear deeply.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> By what?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> By my religion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Thy religion!<br /> +The devil's creed: but what would you have done?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Before, like you, I had outliv'd my fortunes,<br /> +A withe had serv'd my turn to hang myself.<br /> +I am zealous in your cause: 'pray you, hang yourself;<br /> +And presently, as you love your credit.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I thank you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Will you stay till you die in a ditch?<br /> +Or, if you dare not do the fate yourself,<br /> +But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble,<br /> +Is there no purse to be cut? house to be broken?<br /> +Or market-woman, with eggs, that you may murder,<br /> +And so despatch the business?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Here's variety,<br /> +I must confess; but I'll accept of none<br /> +Of all your gentle offers, I assure you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> If you like not hanging, drown yourself; take some course<br /> +For your reputation.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> 'Twill not do, dear tempter,<br /> +With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught you.<br /> +I am as far as thou art from despair.<br /> +Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope,<br /> +To live, and suddenly, better than ever.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Ha! ha! these castles you build in the air<br /> +Will not persuade me, or to give, or lend<br /> +A token to you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I'll be more kind to thee.<br /> +Come, thou shalt dine with me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> With you?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Nay, more, dine gratis.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Under what hedge, I pray you? or, at whose cost?<br /> +Are they padders, or gipsies, that are your consorts?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Thou art incredulous; but thou shalt dine,<br /> +Not alone at her house, but with a gallant lady;<br /> +With me, and with a lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Lady! what lady?<br /> +With the lady of the lake, or queen of fairies?<br /> +For I know it must be an enchanted dinner.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> With the Lady Allworth, knave.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Nay, now there's hope<br /> +Thy brain is crack'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Mark there, with what respect<br /> +I am entertain'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips.<br /> +Why, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> 'Tis not far off, go with me: trust thine own eyes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Troth, in my hope, or my assurance, rather,<br /> +To see thee curvet, and mount like a dog in a blanket,<br /> +If ever thou presume to pass her threshold,<br /> +I will endure thy company.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Come along. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE II.—<i>A Hall in</i> Lady Allworth's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Allworth, Order, Amble, <i>and</i> Watchall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Allw.</i> Your courtesies overwhelm me: I much grieve<br /> +To part from this house, and yet, I find comfort;<br /> +My attendance on my honourable lord,<br /> +Whose resolution holds to visit my lady,<br /> +Will speedily bring me back.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Knocking at the Gate.</i> Marall <i>and</i> Wellborn <i>within</i>.</p> + +<p> +<i>Mar.</i> Dar'st thou venture farther?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Yes, yes, and knock again.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> 'Tis he; disperse; 'tis Mr. Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> I know my cue, ne'er doubt me.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt</i> Amble <i>and</i> Furnice.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Marall <i>and</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> You were long since expected.<br /> +Most welcome, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Say so much<br /> +To my friend, I pray you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> For your sake, I will, sir. [<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> For his sake!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Mum! this is nothing.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> More than ever<br /> +I would have believed, though I had found it in my primer.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> When I have given you reasons for my late harshness,<br /> +You'll pardon, and excuse me: for, believe me;<br /> +Tho' now I part abruptly in my service,<br /> +I will deserve it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Service! with a vengeance!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I am satisfied: farewell, Tom.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> All joy stay with you.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit</i> Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Amble.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> You are happily encounter'd: I never yet<br /> +Presented one so welcome, as I know<br /> +You will be to my lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> This is some vision;<br /> +Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dung-hill;<br /> +It cannot be a truth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Be still a pagan,<br /> +An unbelieving infidel; be so, miscreant,<br /> +And meditate on blankets, and on dog-whips.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Furnace.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> I am glad you are come; until I know your pleasure,<br /> +I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> His pleasure! is it possible? [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> What's thy will?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Marry, sir, I have some growse and turkey chicken,<br /> +Some rails and quails; and my lady will'd me to ask you,<br /> +What kind of sauces best affect your palate,<br /> +That I may use my utmost skill to please it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> The devil's enter'd this cook: sauce for his palate!<br /> +That on my knowledge, for a most this twelve-month,<br /> +Durst wish but cheese-parings, and brown bread on Sundays.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> That way I like them best.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> It shall be done, sir. [<i>Exit</i> Furnace.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> What think you of the hedge we shall dine under?<br /> +Shall we feed gratis?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I know not what to think:<br /> +Pray you, make me not mad.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Order.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> This place becomes you not:<br /> +'Pray you, walk sir, to the dining room.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I am well here,<br /> +Till her ladyship quits her chamber.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Well here, say you!<br /> +'Tis a rare change! but yesterday, you thought<br /> +Yourself well in a barn, wrapp'd up in pease-straw.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Woman <i>and</i> Chambermaid.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wom.</i> O sir, you are wish'd for.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Chamb.</i> My lady dreamt, sir, of you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wom.</i> And the first command she gave<br /> +After she rose, was to give her notice<br /> +When you approached here.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Sir, my lady.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span><i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth.—<i>Salutes him.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I come to meet you, and languished till I saw you.<br /> +This first kiss for form: I allow a second,<br /> +As token of my friendship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Heaven bless me!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I am wholly yours; yet, madam, if you please<br /> +To grace this gentleman with a salute——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Salute me at his bidding!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I shall receive it<br /> +As a most high favour. [<i>To</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Sir, your friends are welcome to me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Run backward from a lady! and such a lady!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> To kiss her foot, is to poor me, a favour<br /> +I am unworthy of. [<i>Offers to kiss her Foot.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Nay, pray you rise;<br /> +And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you:<br /> +You shall dine with me to-day at mine own table.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Your ladyship's table! I am not good enough<br /> +To sit at your steward's.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> You are too modest:<br /> +I will not be denied.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Order.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Dinner is ready for your ladyship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Your arm, Mr. Wellborn:<br /> +Nay, keep us company.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I was never so grac'd. Mercy on me!<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i> Wellborn, Lady Allworth, Amble, <i>and</i> Marall.</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Furnace.</p> + +<p> +<i>Order.</i> So, we have play'd our parts, and are come off well.<br /> +But if I know the mystery, why my lady<br /> +Consented to it, or why Mr. Wellborn<br /> +Desir'd it, may I perish!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> 'Would I had<br /> +The roasting of his heart, that cheated him,<br /> +And forces the poor gentleman to these shifts!<br /> +Of all the griping and extorting tyrants<br /> +I ever heard or read of, I never met<br /> +A match to Sir Giles Overreach.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Watch.</i> What will you take<br /> +To tell him so, fellow Furnace?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Just as much<br /> +As my throat is worth, for that would be the price on't.<br /> +To have a usurer that starves himself,<br /> +And wears a cloak of one and twenty years<br /> +On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the hangman,<br /> +To grow rich, is too common:<br /> +But this Sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants,<br /> +Who must at his command do any outrage;<br /> +Rich in his habit; vast in his expenses;<br /> +Yet he to admiration still increases<br /> +In wealth and lordships.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> He frights men out of their estates,<br /> +And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb ill men,<br /> +As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him.<br /> +Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never<br /> +Lodg'd so unluckily.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Amble.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Ha! ha! I shall burst.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Contain thyself, man.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Or make us partakers<br /> +Of your sudden mirth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> Ha! ha! my lady has got<br /> +Such a guest at her table, this term-driver, Marall,<br /> +This snip of an attorney.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> What of him, man?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> The knave stinks, and feeds so slovenly!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> Is this all?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> My lady<br /> +Drank to him for fashion's sake, or to please Mr. Wellborn,<br /> +As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish,<br /> +In which there were some remnants of a boil'd capon,<br /> +And pledges her in white broth.<br /> +And when I brought him wine,<br /> +He leaves his chair, and after a leg or two,<br /> +Most humbly thanks my worship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Rose already!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Amble.</i> I shall be chid.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth, Wellborn, <i>and</i> Marall.</p> + +<p> +<i>Fur.</i> My lady frowns.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> You attended us well.<br /> +Let me have no more of this: I observ'd your leering.<br /> +Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy<br /> +To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean,<br /> +When I am present, is not your companion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> Nay, she'll preserve what's due to her.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> You are master<br /> +Of your own will. I know so much of manners<br /> +As not to inquire your purposes; in a word,<br /> +To me you are ever welcome, as to a house<br /> +That is your own.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Mark that.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> With reverence, sir,<br /> +And it like your worship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Trouble yourself no farther,<br /> +Dear madam; my heart's full of zeal and service.<br /> +However in my language I am sparing.<br /> +Come, Mr. Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I attend your worship.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt</i> Wellborn <i>and</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I see in your looks you are sorry, and you know me<br /> +An easy mistress: be merry! I have forgot all.<br /> +Order and Furnace, come with me; I must give you<br /> +Farther directions. [<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Order.</i> What you please.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Fur.</i> We are ready. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE III.—<i>The Country.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Wellborn <i>and</i> Marall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Wellb.</i> I think I am in a good way.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Good sir, the best way;<br /> +The certain best way.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> There are casualties<br /> +That men are subject to.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> You are above 'em:<br /> +As you are already worshipful,<br /> +I hope, ere long, you will increase in worship,<br /> +And be right worshipful.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Pr'thee do not flout me,<br /> +What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your ease,<br /> +You keep your hat off.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Ease, and it like your worship!<br /> +I hope Jack Marall shall not live so long,<br /> +To prove himself such an unmannerly beast,<br /> +Though it hail hazel nuts, as to be covered,<br /> +When your worship's present.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Is not this a true rogue, [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +That out of mere hope of a future coz'nage<br /> +Can turn thus suddenly? 'tis rank already.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I know your worship's wise, and needs no counsel:<br /> +Yet if in my desire to do you service,<br /> +I humbly offer my advice (but still<br /> +Under correction), I hope I shall not<br /> +Incur your high displeasure.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> No; speak freely.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Then in my judgment, sir, my simple judgment,<br /> +(Still with your worship's favour) I could wish you<br /> +A better habit, for this cannot be<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>But much distasteful to the noble lady<br /> +That loves you: I have twenty pounds here,<br /> +Which, out of my true love, I presently<br /> +Lay down at your worship's feet; 'twill serve to buy you<br /> +A riding suit.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> But Where's the horse?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> My gelding<br /> +Is at your service: nay, you shall ride me,<br /> +Before your worship shall be put to the trouble<br /> +To walk a-foot. Alas! when you are lord<br /> +Of this lady's manor (as I know you will be),<br /> +You may with the lease of glebe land,<br /> +Requite your vassal.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I thank thy love; but must make no use of it.<br /> +What's twenty pounds?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Tis all that I can make, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Dost thou think, though I want clothes, I could not have 'em,<br /> +For one word to my lady?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> As I know not that—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Come, I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave thee.<br /> +I'll not give her the advantage, tho' she be<br /> +A gallant-minded lady, after we are married<br /> +To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forc'd<br /> +To buy my wedding clothes,<br /> +Or took me with a plain suit, and an ambling nag,<br /> +No, I'll be furnish'd something like myself.<br /> +And so farewell; for thy suit touching the glebe land,<br /> +When it is mine, 'tis thine.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I thank your worship. [<i>Exit</i> Wellborn.<br /> +How was I cozen'd in the calculation<br /> +Of this man's fortune! my master cozen'd too,<br /> +Whose pupil I am in the art of undoing men;<br /> +For that is our profession. Well, well, Mr. Wellborn,<br /> +You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be cheated:<br /> +Which, if the fates please, when you are possess'd<br /> +Of the land and lady, you, sans question, shall be.<br /> +I'll presently think of the means.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Walks by, musing.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Sirrah, take my horse;<br /> +I'll walk to get me an appetite. 'Tis but a mile;<br /> +And exercise will keep me from being pursy.<br /> +Ha! Marall! is he conjuring? Perhaps<br /> +The knave has wrought the prodigal to do<br /> +Some outrage on himself, and now he feels<br /> +Compunction in his conscience for't: no matter,<br /> +So it be done. Marall!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> How succeed we<br /> +In our plot on Wellborn?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Never better, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Has he hang'd, or drown'd himself?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> No sir, he lives,<br /> +Lives once more to be made a prey to you:<br /> +And greater prey than ever.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Art thou in thy wits?<br /> +If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> A lady, sir, has fall'n in love with him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> With him! What lady?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> The rich Lady Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Thou dolt! how darst thou speak this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I speak true;<br /> +And I do so but once a year: unless<br /> +It be to you, sir. We din'd with her ladyship:<br /> +I thank his worship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> His worship!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> As I live, sir,<br /> +I din'd with him, at the great lady's table,<br /> +Simple as I stand here; and saw when she kiss'd him;<br /> +And, at his request, welcom'd me too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Why, thou rascal,<br /> +To tell me these impossibilities:<br /> +Dine at her table! and kiss him!<br /> +Impudent varlet! Have not I myself,<br /> +To whom great countesses' doors have oft flown open,<br /> +Ten times attempted, since her husband's death,<br /> +In vain to see her, tho' I came—a suitor?<br /> +And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Wellborn,<br /> +Were brought into her presence, feasted with her.<br /> +But that I know thee a dog that cannot blush,<br /> +This most incredible lie would call up one into<br /> +Thy cheeks.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Shall I not trust my eyes, sir?<br /> +Or taste? I feel her good cheer in my belly.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You shall feel me, if you give not over, sirrah!<br /> +Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd<br /> +With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids<br /> +Of serving men; and chambermaids; for, beyond these,<br /> +Thou never saw'st a woman; or, I'll quit you<br /> +From my employments.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Will you credit this, yet?<br /> +On my confidence of their marriage, I offered Wellborn<br /> +(I would give a crown now, I durst say his worship [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +My nag, and twenty pounds.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Did you so? [<i>Strikes him down.</i><br /> +Was this the way to work him to despair,<br /> +Or rather to cross me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Will your worship kill me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> No, no; but drive the lying spirit out of you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> He's gone.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I have done, then. Now forgetting<br /> +Your late imaginary feast and lady,<br /> +Know, my Lord Lovell dines with me tomorrow:<br /> +Be careful, not be wanting to receive him;<br /> +And bid my daughter's women trim her up,<br /> +Tho' they paint her, so she catch the lord, I'll thank 'em.<br /> +There's a piece for my late blows.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I must yet suffer:<br /> +But there may be a time— [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Do you grumble?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> O no, sir. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT. III.</h2> + + +<h3>SCENE I.—<i>The Country.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Lovell <i>and</i> Allworth.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Lov.</i> Drive the carriage down the hill: something in private<br /> +I must impart to Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> O, my lord!<br /> +What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching;<br /> +Although I could put off the use of sleep,<br /> +And ever wait on your commands to serve 'em.<br /> +What danger, tho' in ne'er so horrid shapes,<br /> +Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it,<br /> +Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer:<br /> +But still the retribution will fall short<br /> +Of your bounties shower'd upon me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Loving youth,<br /> +Till what I purpose be put into act,<br /> +Do not o'erprize it: since you have trusted me<br /> +With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest secret,<br /> +Rest confident, 'tis in a cabinet lock'd,<br /> +Treachery shall never open. I have found you<br /> +More zealous in your love and service to me<br /> +Than I have been in my rewards.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Still great ones,<br /> +Above my merit. You have been<br /> +More like a father to me than a master.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>'Pray you pardon the comparison.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I allow it;<br /> +And give you assurance I'm pleas'd in't.<br /> +My carriage and demeanour to your mistress.<br /> +Fair Margaret shall truly witness for me,<br /> +I can command my passion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> 'Tis a conquest<br /> +Few lords can boast of when they are tempted—Oh!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> So young, and jealous!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Were you to encounter with a single foe,<br /> +The victory were certain: but to stand<br /> +The charge of two such potent enemies,<br /> +At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty,<br /> +And those two seconded with power, is odds<br /> +Too great for Hurcules.<br /> +Hippolitus himself would leave Diana,<br /> +To follow such a Venus.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Love hath made you<br /> +Poetical, Allworth.<br /> +How far is it<br /> +To Overreach's?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> At the most, some half hour's riding;<br /> +You'll soon be there.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> And you the sooner freed<br /> +From your jealous fears.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Oh that I durst but hope it! [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE II.—<i>A Hall in Sir Giles's house.</i></h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy <i>and</i> Marall.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> Spare for no cost, let my dressers crack with the weight<br /> +Of curious viands.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Store indeed's no sore, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> That proverb fits your stomach, Mr. Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> It does indeed, Sir Giles.<br /> +I do not like to see a table ill spread,<br /> +Poor, meager, just sprinkled o'er with salads,<br /> +Slic'd beef, giblets, and pigs' pettitoes.<br /> +But the substantials—Oh! Sir Giles the substantials!<br /> +The state of a fat Turkey now,<br /> +The decorum, the grandeur he marches in with.<br /> +Then his sauce, with oranges and onions,<br /> +O, I declare, I do much honour a chine of beef!<br /> +O lord! I do reverence a loin of veal!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You shall have your will, Mr. Greedy.<br /> +And let no plate be seen, but what's pure gold,<br /> +Or such, whose workmanship exceeds the matter<br /> +That it is made of; let my choicest linen<br /> +Perfume the room; and when we wash, the water<br /> +With precious powders mix, to please my lord,<br /> +That he may with envy wish to bathe so ever.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Twill be very chargeable.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Avaunt, you drudge!<br /> +Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake,<br /> +Is't time to think of thrift? Call in my daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +And, master of justice, since you love choice dishes,<br /> +And plenty of 'em——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> As I do indeed, sir.<br /> +Almost as much as to give thanks for 'em—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I do confer that province, with my power<br /> +Of absolute command, to have abundance,<br /> +To your best care.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I'll punctually discharge it,<br /> +And give the best direction. [Sir Giles <i>retires</i>.]—Now am I,<br /> +In mine own conceit, a monarch, at the least,<br /> +Arch president of the boil'd, the roast, the baked;<br /> +I would not change my empire for the great Mogul's,<br /> +Mercy on me, how I lack food! my belly<br /> +Is grown together like an empty satchell.<br /> +What an excellent thing did Heaven bestow on man,<br /> +When she did give him a good stomach!<br /> +It is of all blessings much the greatest.<br /> +I will eat often and give thanks<br /> +When my belly's brac'd up like a drum, and that's pure justice.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> It must be so. Should the foolish girl prove modest,<br /> +She may spoil all; she had it not from me,<br /> +But from her mother: I was ever forward,<br /> +As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare her. Margaret!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Your pleasure, sir?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Ha! this is a neat dressing!<br /> +These orient pearls, and diamonds well plac'd too!<br /> +The gown affects me not; it should have been<br /> +Embroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold;<br /> +But these rich jewels and quaint fashion help it.<br /> +How like you your new woman, the Lady Downfall'n!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Well for a companion:<br /> +Not as a servant.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Is she humble, Meg?<br /> +And careful too, her ladyship forgotten?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I pity her fortune.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Pity her! trample on her.<br /> +I took her up in an old tatter'd gown<br /> +(E'en starv'd for want of food), to serve thee;<br /> +And if I understand she but repines<br /> +To do thee any duty, though ne'er so servile,<br /> +I'll pack her to her knight, where I have lodg'd him,<br /> +In the country, and there let them howl together.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> You know your own ways; but for me, I blush<br /> +When I command her that was once attended<br /> +With persons not inferior to myself<br /> +In birth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> In birth! Why, art thou not my daughter,<br /> +The blest child of my industry and wealth?<br /> +Why, foolish girl, was't not to make thee great,<br /> +That I have run, and still pursue those ways<br /> +That hale down curses on me, which I mind not?<br /> +Part with these humble thoughts, and apt thyself<br /> +To the noble state I labour to advance thee;<br /> +Or, by my hopes to see thee honourable,<br /> +I will adopt a stranger to my heir,<br /> +And throw thee from my care; do not provoke me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I will not, sir; mould me which way<br /> +you please.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> How! interrupted?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> 'Tis matter of importance.<br /> +The cook, sir, is self-will'd, and will not learn<br /> +From my experience. There's a fawn brought in, sir,<br /> +And for my life, I cannot make him roast it<br /> +With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it:<br /> +And, sir, we wise men know, without the dumpling<br /> +'Tis not worth three pence.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Would it were whole in thy belly,<br /> +To stuff it out; cook it any way—pr'ythee, leave me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Without order for the dumpling?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir. G.</i> Let it be dumpled<br /> +Which way thou wilt: or, tell him I will scald him<br /> +In his own cauldron.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I had lost my stomach,<br /> +Had I lost my mistress's dumpling; I'll give ye thanks for't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> But to our business, Meg; you have heard who dines here?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I have, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Tis an honourable man.<br /> +A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment<br /> +Of soldiers; and what's rare, is one himself;<br /> +A bold and understanding one; and to be<br /> +A lord, and a good leader in one volume,<br /> +Is granted unto few, but such as rise up,<br /> +The kingdom's glory.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span><i>Greedy.</i> I'll resign my office,<br /> +If I be not better obey'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Slight, art thou frantic?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Frantic! 'twould make me frantic and stark mad,<br /> +Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too,<br /> +Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw for.<br /> +There are a dozen of woodcocks,<br /> +For which he has found out<br /> +A new device for sauce, and will not dish 'em<br /> +With toast and butter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Cook, rogue, obey him.<br /> +I have given the word, pray you, now, remove yourself<br /> +To a collar of brawn, and trouble me no farther.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I will; and meditate what to eat at dinner,<br /> +For my guts have been in the kitchen this half hour. [<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> And, as I said, Meg, when this gull disturb'd us,<br /> +This honourable lord, this colonel,<br /> +I would have thy husband.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> There's too much disparity<br /> +Between his quality and mine, to hope it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I more than hope it, and doubt not to effect it.<br /> +Be thou no enemy to thyself; my wealth<br /> +Shall weigh his titles down, and make you equals.<br /> +Now for the means to assure him thine, observe me;<br /> +Remember he's a courtier, and a soldier,<br /> +And not to be trifled with; and therefore, when<br /> +He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it.<br /> +This mincing modesty hath spoil'd many a match<br /> +By a first refusal, in vain after hop't for.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> You'll have me, sir, preserve the distance that<br /> +Confines a virgin?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Virgin me no virgins.<br /> +I will have you lose that name, or you lose me;<br /> +I will have you private; start not, I say, private.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Though you can dispense<br /> +With your honour, I must guard my own.<br /> +This is not the way to make me his wife.<br /> +My modest breeding yielded up so soon,<br /> +Cannot but assure him,<br /> +I, that am light to him, will not hold weight<br /> +When tempted by others: so in judgment,<br /> +When to his will I have given up my honour,<br /> +He must, and will, forsake me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> How! forsake thee?<br /> +Do I wear a sword for fashion? or is this arm<br /> +Shrunk up, or wither'd? Does there live a man<br /> +Of that large list I have encounter'd with,<br /> +Can truly say I e'er gave inch of ground,<br /> +Not purchas'd with his blood that did oppose me?<br /> +Forsake thee when the thing is done! he dares not.<br /> +Though all his captains, echoes to his will,<br /> +Stood arm'd by his side, to justify the wrong,<br /> +Spite of his lordship, I will make him render<br /> +A bloody and a strict account; and force him,<br /> +By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour;<br /> +I have said it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir, the man of honour's come,<br /> +Newly alighted.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> In, without reply,<br /> +And do as I command, or thou art lost.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +Is the loud music, I gave order for,<br /> +Ready to receive him?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Tis, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Let 'em sound<br /> +A princely welcome. [<i>Exit</i> Marall.) Roughness awhile leave me;<br /> +For fawning now, a stranger to my nature,<br /> +Must make way for me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lovell, Allworth, Marall, <i>and</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Sir, you meet your trouble.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> What you are pleased to style so is an honour<br /> +Above my worth and fortunes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Strange! so humble.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> A justice of peace, my lord.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Presents</i> Greedy to <i>him</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Your hand, good sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> This is a lord; and some think this is a favour;<br /> +But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Room for my lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I miss, sir, your fair daughter,<br /> +To crown my welcome.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> May it please my lord<br /> +To taste a glass of Greek wine first; and suddenly<br /> +She shall attend my lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You'll be obey'd, sir.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt all but</i> Sir Giles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Tis to my wish; as soon as come, ask for her!<br /> +Why, Meg! Meg Overreach!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +How! Tears in your eyes?<br /> +Hah! dry 'em quickly, or I'll dig 'em out.<br /> +Is this a time to whimper? Meet that greatness<br /> +That flies into thy bosom; think what tis<br /> +For me to say, my honourable daughter:<br /> +No more but be instructed, or expect—<br /> +He comes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lovell <i>and</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +A black-brow'd girl, my lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> As I live, a rare one!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> That kiss<br /> +Came twanging off, I like it: quit the room.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +A little bashful, my good lord: but you,<br /> +I hope, will teach her boldness.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I am happy<br /> +In such a scholar: but——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I am past learning,<br /> +And therefore leave you to yourselves: remember—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Exit</i> Sir Giles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous<br /> +To have you change the barren name of virgin<br /> +Into a hopeful wife.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> His haste, my lord,<br /> +Holds no power o'er my will.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> But o'er your duty——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Which forc'd too much may break.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Bend rather, sweetest:<br /> +Think of your years.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Too few to match with yours:<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Do you think I am old?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I am sure, I am too young.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I can advance you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> To a hill of sorrow;<br /> +Where every hour I may expect to fall,<br /> +But never hope firm footing. You are noble;<br /> +I of low descent, however rich.<br /> +O my good lord, I could say more, but that<br /> +I dare not trust these walls.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> 'Pray you, trust my ear, then.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach, <i>listening</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Close at it! whispering! this is excellent!<br /> +And, by their postures, a consent on both parts.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Greedy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Sir Giles! Sir Giles!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> The great fiend stop that clapper!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> It must ring out, sir, when my belly rings noon.<br /> +The bak'd meats are ran out, the roast turn'd powder.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Stop your insatiate jaws, or<br /> +I shall powder you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Beat me to dust, I care not;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>In such a cause as this I'll die martyr.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Disturb my lord, when he is in discourse?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Is't a time to talk<br /> +When we should have been munching?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Peace, villain! peace! shall we break a bargain<br /> +Almost made up? Vanish I say.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Thrusts</i> Greedy <i>off</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Lady, I understand you: Overreach.<br /> +Rest most happy in your choice. Believe it,<br /> +I'll be a careful pilot to direct<br /> +Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> So shall your honour save two lives, and bind us<br /> +Your slaves forever.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I am in the act rewarded,<br /> +Since it is good; howe'er you must put on<br /> +An amorous carriage towards me, to delude<br /> +Your subtle father.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I am bound to that.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Now break off our conference,—Sir Giles<br /> +Where is Sir Giles?<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy, Allworth, <i>and</i> Marall.</p> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> My noble lord; and how<br /> +Does your lordship find her?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Apt, Sir Giles, and coming,<br /> +And I like her the better.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> So do I too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Yet, should we take forts at the first assault,<br /> +'Twere poor in the defendant. I must confirm her?<br /> +With a love-letter or two, which I must have<br /> +Deliver'd by my page, and you give way to't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> With all my soul.—A towardly gentleman!<br /> +Your hand, good Mr. Allworth; know my house<br /> +Is ever open to you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> 'Twas still shut till now. [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Well done, well done, my honourable daughter,<br /> +Thou'rt so already: know this gentle youth,<br /> +And cherish him, my honourable daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> What noise?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> More stops<br /> +Before we go to dinner! O my guts!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth <i>and</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady. A.</i> If I find welcome,<br /> +You share in it; if not, I'll back again,<br /> +Now I know your ends! for I come arm'd for all<br /> +Can be objected.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> How! the Lady Allworth?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> And thus attended!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> No, I am a dolt;<br /> +the spirit of lies had entered me!<br /> +<br /> +Lovell <i>salutes</i> Lady Allworth, <i>who salutes</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Peace, patch,<br /> +'Tis more than wonder, an astonishment<br /> +That does possess me wholly.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Noble Lady,<br /> +This is a favour to prevent my visit,<br /> +The service of my life can never equal.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> My lord, I laid wait for you, and much hop'd<br /> +You would have made my poor house your first inn:<br /> +And therefore, doubting that you might forget me,<br /> +Or too long dwell here, having such ample cause,<br /> +In this unequal beauty, for your stay;<br /> +And fearing to trust any but myself<br /> +With the relation of my service to you,<br /> +I borrow'd so much from my long restraint,<br /> +And took the air in person to invite you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Your bounties are so great, they rob me, madam,<br /> +Of words to give you thanks.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Good Sir Giles Overreach! [<i>Salutes him.</i><br /> +How dost thou, Marall? Lik'd you my meat so ill,<br /> +You'll dine no more with me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I will when you please,<br /> +And it like your ladyship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> When you please, Mr. Greedy;<br /> +If meat can do it, you shall be satisfied;<br /> +And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge<br /> +This gentleman; howe'er his outside's coarse,<br /> +<br /> +<i>Presents</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +His inward linings are as fine and fair<br /> +As any man's. Wonder not I speak at large:<br /> +And howsoe'er his humour carries him<br /> +To be thus accoutr'd; or what taint soe'er,<br /> +For his wild life has stuck upon his fame;<br /> +He may, ere long, with boldness rank himself<br /> +With some that have condemn'd him. Sir Giles Overreach,<br /> +If I am Welcome, bid him so.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> My nephew!<br /> +He hath been too long a stranger: 'faith you have.<br /> +Pray let it be mended.<br /> +<br /> +[Lovell <i>conferring with</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Why, sir, what do you mean?<br /> +This is rogue Wellborn, monster, prodigy,<br /> +That should hang or drown himself, no man of worship,<br /> +Much less your nephew.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Well, sirrah, we shall reckon<br /> +For this hereafter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I'll not lose my jeer,<br /> +Though I be beaten dead for it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Let my silence plead<br /> +In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure<br /> +Offer itself, to hear a full relation<br /> +Of my poor fortunes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I would hear and help them. [<i>Bell rings.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Your dinner waits you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> 'Pray you, lead, we follow.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Nay, you are my guest? Come, dear<br /> +Mr. Wellborn. [<i>Exeunt all but Greedy.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Dear Mr. Wellborn! so she said; Heav'n! aven!<br /> +If my belly would give me leave, I could ruminate<br /> +All day on this: I have granted twenty warrants<br /> +To have him committed, from all prisons in the shire,<br /> +To Nottingham jail! and now, dear Mr. Wellborn!<br /> +And my good nephew!—But I play the fool<br /> +To stand here prating, and forget my dinner.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +Are they set, Marall?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Long since; pray you a word, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> No wording now.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> In troth, I must: my master,<br /> +Knowing you are his good friend, makes bold with you,<br /> +And does entreat you, more guests being come in<br /> +Than he expected, especially his nephew,<br /> +The table being too full, you would excuse him,<br /> +And sup with him on the cold meat.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> How! no dinner<br /> +After all my care?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> 'Tis but a penance for<br /> +A meal; besides, you have broke your fast.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> That was<br /> +But a bit to stay my stomach. A man in commission<br /> +Give place to a tatterdemallion!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> No big words, sir.<br /> +Should his worship hear you——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Loose my dumpling too;<br /> +And butter'd toasts and woodcocks?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Come, have patience,<br /> +If you will dispense a little with your justiceship,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>And sit with the waiting woman, you'll have dumpling,<br /> +Woodcock, and butter'd toasts too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> This revives me:<br /> +I will gorge there sufficiently.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach, <i>as from dinner.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> She's caught! O woman! she neglect my lord,<br /> +And all her compliments apply to Wellborn!<br /> +The garment of her widowhood laid by,<br /> +She now appears as glorious as the spring.<br /> +Her eyes fix'd on him; in the wine she drinks,<br /> +He being her pledge, she sends him burning kisses,<br /> +She leaves my meat to feed upon his looks;<br /> +And, if in our discourse he be but nam'd,<br /> +From her a deep sigh follows. But why grieve I<br /> +At this? It makes for me; if she prove his,<br /> +All that is hers, is mine, as I will work him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir, the whole board is troubled at your rising.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> No matter, I'll excuse it; pr'ythee, Marall,<br /> +watch an occasion to invite my nephew<br /> +To speak with me in private.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Who, the rogue,<br /> +The lady scorn'd to look on?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Hold your peace!<br /> +My good lord,<br /> +Excuse my manners.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Lovell, Margaret, <i>and</i> Allworth.</p> + +<p> +<i>Lov.</i> There needs none, Sir Giles;<br /> +I may ere long say father, when it please<br /> +My dearest mistress to give warrant to it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> She shall seal to it my lord, and make me happy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> My lady—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Wellborn <i>and</i> Lady Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> My thanks, Sir Giles,<br /> +for my entertainment.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> 'Tis your nobleness<br /> +To think it such.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I must do you a farther wrong,<br /> +In taking away your honourable guest.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I wait on you, madam: farewell good Sir Giles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Nay, come, Mr. Wellborn,<br /> +I must not leave you behind, in sooth, I must not.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Rob me not, madam, of all joys at once.<br /> +Let my nephew stay behind: he shall have my coach,<br /> +And, after some small conference between us,<br /> +Soon overtake your ladyship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Stay not long, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You shall every day hear from me,<br /> +By my faithful page. [<i>To</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i>'Tis a service I am proud of.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i> Lovell, Lady Allworth, Allworth, <i>and</i> Marall.</p> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> Daughter, to your chamber.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +You may wonder, nephew,<br /> +After so long an enmity between us,<br /> +I shall desire your friendship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> So I do, sir:<br /> +Tis strange to me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> But I'll make it no wonder;<br /> +And, what is more, unfold my nature to you.<br /> +We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen,<br /> +Past hope, sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand<br /> +To lift 'em up, but rather set our feet<br /> +Upon their heads, to press 'em to the bottom;<br /> +As I must yield, with you I practis'd it:<br /> +But now I see you in a way to rise,<br /> +I can and will, assist you. This rich lady<br /> +(And I am glad of't) is enamour'd of you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> No such thing:<br /> +Compassion, rather, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Well, in a word,<br /> +Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen<br /> +No more in this base shape; nor shall she say,<br /> +She married you like a beggar, or in debt.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> He'll run into the noose, and save my labour! [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You have a trunk of rich clothes, not far hence,<br /> +In pawn; I will redeem 'em: and, that no clamour<br /> +May taint your credit for your debts,<br /> +You shall have a thousand pounds to cut 'em off,<br /> +And go a freeman to the wealthy lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> This done, sir, out of love, and no ends else—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> As it is, nephew.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Binds me still your servant.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> No compliments; you are staid for: ere you've supp'd,<br /> +You shall hear from me. My coach, knaves! for my nephew:<br /> +Tomorrow I will visit you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Here's an uncle<br /> +In a man's extremes? how much they do belie you,<br /> +That say you are hard hearted!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> My deeds, nephew,<br /> +Shall speak my love; what men report, I weigh not.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2> + + +<h3>SCENE I—<i>A Chamber</i> in Lady Allworth's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4>Lovell <i>and</i> Allworth <i>discovered</i>.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Lov.</i> 'Tis well. I now discharge you<br /> +From farther service. Mind your own affairs;<br /> +I hope they will prove successful.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> What is blest<br /> +With your good wish, my lord, cannot but prosper.<br /> +Let after-times report, and to your honour,<br /> +How much I stand engag'd; for I want language<br /> +To speak my debt: yet if a tear or two<br /> +Of joy, for your much goodness, can supply<br /> +My tongue's defects, I could——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Nay, do not melt:<br /> +This ceremonial of thanks to me's superfluous.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> [<i>Within.</i>] Is my lord stirring?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> 'Tis he! Oh, here's your letter; let him in.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Sir Giles, Greedy, <i>and</i> Marall.</p> + +<p> +<i>Sir G.</i> A good day to my lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You are an early riser, Sir Giles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> And reason, to attend to your lordship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> And you too, Mr. Greedy, up so soon?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> In troth, my lord, after the sun is up<br /> +I cannot sleep; for I have a foolish stomach,<br /> +That croaks for breakfast. With your lordship's favour,<br /> +I have a serious question to demand<br /> +Of my worthy friend, Sir Giles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Pray you, use your pleasure.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> How far, Sir Giles, and 'pray you, answer me<br /> +Upon your credit, hold you it to be,<br /> +From your manor-house, to this of my Lady Allworth's?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Why, some four miles.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> How! four miles, good Sir Giles?<br /> +Upon your reputation think better;<br /> +For four miles riding<br /> +Could not have rais'd so huge an appetite<br /> +As I feel gnawing on me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Whether you ride<br /> +Or go a-foot, you are that way still provided,<br /> +And it please your worship.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> How now, sirrah! prating<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Before my lord! no difference? go to my nephew,<br /> +See all his debts discharged, and help his worship<br /> +To fit on his rich suit.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I may fit you too. [<i>Exit</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I have writ this morning<br /> +A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already.<br /> +Sweet Mr. Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry<br /> +To her presence, I warrant you; and there plead<br /> +For my good lord, if you shall find occasion.<br /> +That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a license,<br /> +Still, by this token. I'll have it despatch'd,<br /> +And suddenly, my lord: that I may say,<br /> +My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Take my advice, young gentleman; get your breakfast.<br /> +'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting. I'll eat with you;<br /> +And that abundantly.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Some fury's in that gut:<br /> +Hungry again? Did you not devour this morning<br /> +A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester oysters?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Why, that was, sir, only to scour my stomach,<br /> +A kind of preparative.<br /> +I am no camelion, to feed on air; but love<br /> +To see the board well spread,<br /> +Groaning under the heavy burden of the beast<br /> +That cheweth the cud, and the fowl<br /> +That cleaveth the air. Come, young gentleman,<br /> +I will not have you feed alone, while I am here.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Haste your return.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I will not fail, my lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Nor I, to line<br /> +My Christmas coffer.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt</i> Greedy <i>and</i> Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> To my wish, we're private,<br /> +I come not to make offer with my daughter<br /> +A certain portion; that were poor and trivial:<br /> +In one word, I pronounce all that is mine,<br /> +In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods,<br /> +With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have<br /> +One motive to induce you to believe<br /> +I live too long, since every year I'll add<br /> +Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You are a right kind father.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You shall have reason<br /> +To think me such. How do you like this seat?<br /> +It is well wooded, and well water'd, the acres<br /> +Fertile and rich; would it not serve for change,<br /> +To entertain your friends in a summer's progress?<br /> +What thinks my noble lord?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> 'Tis a wholesome air,<br /> +And well built; and she, that's mistress of it,<br /> +Worthy the large revenue.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> She the mistress?<br /> +It may be so for a time; but let my lord<br /> +Say only, that he but like it, and would have it,<br /> +I say, ere long 'tis his.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Impossible!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You do conclude too fast, not knowing me,<br /> +Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone<br /> +The lady Allworth's lands; for those, once Wellborn's<br /> +(As by her dotage on him I know they will be,)<br /> +Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's<br /> +In all the shire, and say they lie convenient,<br /> +And useful for your lordship, and once more<br /> +I say aloud, they are yours.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I dare not own<br /> +What's by unjust and cruel means extorted.<br /> +My fame and credit are more dear to me,<br /> +Than to expose 'em to be censur'd by<br /> +The public voice.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> You run, my lord, no hazard;<br /> +Your reputation, shall stand as fair<br /> +In all good men's opinions, as now:<br /> +Nor can my actions, though condemned for ill,<br /> +Cast any foul aspersion upon yours.<br /> +For though I do contemn report myself,<br /> +As a mere sound; I still will be so tender<br /> +Of what concerns you in all points of honour,<br /> +That the immaculate whiteness of your fame,<br /> +Nor your unquestioned integrity,<br /> +Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot;<br /> +All my ambition is to have my daughter<br /> +Right honourable, which my lord can make her:<br /> +And might I live to dance upon my knee<br /> +A young Lord Lovell, born by her unto you,<br /> +I write <i>nil ultra</i> to my proudest hopes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Are you not frightened with the imprecations<br /> +And curses of whole families, made wretched<br /> +By such practices?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Yes, as rocks are,<br /> +When foamy billows split themselves against<br /> +Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is mov'd,<br /> +When wolves, with hunger pin'd, howl at her brightness.<br /> +I am of a solid temper, and like these<br /> +Steer on a constant course: with mine own sword,<br /> +If called into the field, I can make that right,<br /> +Which fearful enemies murmur'd at as wrong.<br /> +Nay, when my ears are pierc'd with widow's cries.<br /> +And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold,<br /> +I only think what 'tis, to have my daughter<br /> +Right Honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm,<br /> +Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity,<br /> +Or the least sting of conscience.<br /> +In one word, therefore,<br /> +Is it a match my lord?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I hope that is past doubt now.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind here,<br /> +Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter,<br /> +Shall make me study aught but your advancement<br /> +One story higher. An earl! if gold can do it.<br /> +Dispute not my religion, nor my faith,<br /> +Though I am borne thus headlong to my will;<br /> +You may make choice of what belief you please,<br /> +To me thy are equal; so, my lord, good morrow.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear<br /> +Such a monster! I, that have liv'd a soldier,<br /> +And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted,<br /> +To hear this horrid beast, I'm bath'd all over<br /> +In a cold sweat; yet, like a mountain, he<br /> +Is no more shaken than Olympus is,<br /> +When angry Boreas loads his double head<br /> +With sudden drifts of snow.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Lady Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> 'Save you, my lord.<br /> +Disturb I not your privacy?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> No, good madam;<br /> +For your own sake, I am glad you came no sooner.<br /> +Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Overreach,<br /> +Made such a plain discovery of himself,<br /> +And read this morning such a devilish mattins.<br /> +That I should think it a sin, next to his,<br /> +But to repeat it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I ne'er press'd, my lord,<br /> +On others privacies; yet, against my will,<br /> +Walking, for health's sake, in the gallery<br /> +Adjoining to our lodgings, I was made<br /> +(So loud and vehement he was) partaker<br /> +Of his tempting offers. But,<br /> +My good lord, If I may use my freedom,<br /> +As to an honour'd friend——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You lessen else<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>Your favour to me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I dare then say thus:<br /> +(However common men<br /> +Make sordid wealth the object and sole end<br /> +Of their industrious aims), 'twill not agree<br /> +With those of noble blood, of fame and honour.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Madam, 'tis confess'd;<br /> +But what infer you from it?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> This, my lord: I allow<br /> +The heir of Sir Giles Overreach, Margaret,<br /> +A maid well qualified, and the richest match<br /> +Our north part can boast of; yet she cannot,<br /> +With all she brings with her fill their mouths,<br /> +That never will forget who was her father;<br /> +Or that my husband Allworth's lands, and Wellborn's,<br /> +(How wrung from both needs no repetition,)<br /> +Were real motives, that more work'd your lordship<br /> +To join your families, than her form and virtues.<br /> +You may conceive the rest.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I do, sweet madam;<br /> +And long since have consider'd it.<br /> +And this my resolution, mark me, madam;<br /> +Were Overreach's 'states thrice centupled; his daughter<br /> +Millions of degrees much fairer than she is,<br /> +I would not so adulterate my blood<br /> +By marrying Margaret. In my own tomb<br /> +I will inter my name first.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Why then, my lord, pretend you marriage to her?<br /> +Dissimulation but ties false knots<br /> +On that straight line, by which you hitherto<br /> +Have measured all your actions.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I make answer,<br /> +And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have you,<br /> +That since your husband's death have liv'd a strict<br /> +And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given yourself<br /> +To visits and entertainments? Think you, madam,<br /> +'Tis not grown public conference? or the favours<br /> +Which you too prodigally have thrown on Wellborn,<br /> +Incur not censure?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I am innocent here; and, on my life, I swear<br /> +My ends are good.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> On my soul, so are mine<br /> +To Margaret; but leave both to the event:<br /> +And now this friendly privacy does serve<br /> +But as an offer'd means unto ourselves<br /> +To search each other farther; you have shown<br /> +Your care of me, I my respect to you.<br /> +Deny me not, but still in chaste words, madam,<br /> +An afternoon's discourse.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Affected modesty might deny your suit,<br /> +But such your honour; I accept it, lord.<br /> +My tongue unworthy can't belie my heart.<br /> +I shall attend your lordship. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE II.—<i>A Landscape before</i> Tapwell's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Tapwell <i>and</i> Froth.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Tap.</i> Undone, undone! this was your counsel, Froth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> Mine! I defy thee: did not Master Marall<br /> +(He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command us<br /> +(On pain of Sir Giles Overreach's displeasure)<br /> +To turn the gentleman out of doors?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> 'Tis true;<br /> +But now he's his uncle's darling, and has got<br /> +Master Justice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly)<br /> +At his commandment to do any thing;<br /> +Wo, wo to us.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> He may prove merciful.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands.<br /> +Though he knew all the passages of our house,<br /> +As the receiving of stolen goods;<br /> +When he was rogue Wellborn, no man would believe him,<br /> +And then his information could not hurt us:<br /> +But now he is right worshipful again.<br /> +Who dares but doubt his testimony? Methinks<br /> +I see thee, Froth, already in a cart,<br /> +And my hand hissing (if I 'scape the halter)<br /> +With the letter R printed upon it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> 'Would that were the worst!<br /> +That were but nine days wonder: as for credit,<br /> +We have none to loose; but we shall lose the money<br /> +He owes us, and his custom; there's the worst on't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> He has summon'd all his creditors by the drum,<br /> +And they swarm about him like so many soldiers<br /> +On the pay day; and has found such a new way<br /> +To pay his old debts, as, 'tis very likely,<br /> +He shall be chronicled for it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> He deserves it<br /> +More than ten pageants. But are you sure his worship<br /> +Comes this way to my lady's?<br /> +<br /> +[<i>A Cry Within</i>, Brave Mr. Wellborn!]<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Yes, I hear him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> Be ready with your petition, and present it<br /> +To his good grace.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Wellborn, <i>in a rich Habit</i>; Greedy, Marall, Amble, Order, +Furnace, <i>and Three</i> Creditors; Tapwell, <i>kneeling, delivers his Bill of +Debt</i>.</p> + +<p> +<i>Wellb.</i> How's this! petitioned too?<br /> +But note what miracles the payment of<br /> +A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes,<br /> +Can work upon these rascals. I shall be,<br /> +I think, Prince Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> When your worship's married,<br /> +You may be—I know what I hope to see you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Then look thou for advancement.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> To be known<br /> +Your worship's bailiff, is the mark I shoot at.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> And thou shalt hit it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Pray you, sir, despatch,<br /> +And for my admittance.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>In this Interim</i>, Tapwell <i>and</i> Froth <i>flattering and bribing</i> Justice +Greedy.</p> + +<p> +(Provided you'll defend me from Sir Giles,<br /> +Whose service I am weary of) I'll say something<br /> +You shall give thanks for.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Fear him not.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Who, Tapwell? I remember thy wife brought me<br /> +Last new year's tide, a couple of fat turkeys.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> And shall do every Christmas, let your worship<br /> +But stand my friend now.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> How! with Mr. Wellborn?<br /> +I can do any thing with him, on such terms——<br /> +See you this honest couple? they are good souls<br /> +As ever drew out spigot; have they not<br /> +A pair of honest faces?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I o'erheard you,<br /> +And the bribe he promis'd; you are cozen'd in them;<br /> +For of all the scum that grew rich by my riots,<br /> +This for a most unthankful knave, and this<br /> +For a base quean, have worse deserv'd;<br /> +And therefore speak not for them. By your place,<br /> +You are rather to do me justice; lend me your ear,<br /> +Forget his turkeys, and call in his license,<br /> +And every season I will send you venison,<br /> +Shall feast a mayor and the corporation.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I am changed on the sudden<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>In my opinion——Mum! my passion is great!<br /> +I fry like a burnt marrowbone—Come nearer, rascal.<br /> +And now I view him better, did you e'er see<br /> +One look so like an arch knave? his very countenance,<br /> +Should an understanding judge but look upon him,<br /> +Would hang him, though he were innocent.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap and Froth.</i> Worshipful sir!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> No; though the great Turk came instead of turkeys,<br /> +To beg my favour, I am inexorable.<br /> +Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's stomachs,<br /> +A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of bacon,<br /> +Or any esculent, as the learned call it,<br /> +For their emolument, but sheer drink only.<br /> +For which gross fault, I here do damn thy license,<br /> +Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw;<br /> +For instantly, I will, in mine own person,<br /> +Command the constable to pull down thy sign;<br /> +And do it before I eat.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Froth.</i> No mercy?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Vanish.<br /> +If I show any, may my promis'd venison choke me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tap.</i> Unthankful knaves are ever so rewarded.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt</i> Tapwell and <i>Froth</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Speak; what are you?<br /> +<br /> +<i>1 Cred.</i> A decayed vintner, sir,<br /> +That might have thriv'd, but that your worship broke me,<br /> +With trusting you with muscadine and eggs,<br /> +And five pound suppers, with your after-drinkings,<br /> +When you lodged upon the bankside.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I remember.<br /> +<br /> +<i>1 Cred.</i> I have not been hasty, nor e'er laid to arrest you;<br /> +And therefore, sir——<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Thou art an honest fellow:<br /> +I'll set thee up again: see this bill paid.<br /> +What are you?<br /> +<br /> +<i>2 Cred.</i> A tailor once, but now mere botcher.<br /> +I gave you credit for a suit of clothes,<br /> +Which was all my stock; but you failing in payment,<br /> +I was remov'd from the shop-board, and confin'd<br /> +Under a stall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> See him paid; and botch no more.<br /> +<br /> +<i>2 Cred.</i> I ask no interest, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Such tailors need not:<br /> +If their bills are paid in one and twenty years,<br /> +They are seldom losers.<br /> +See all men else discharg'd;<br /> +And since old debts are clear'd by a new way,<br /> +A little bounty will not misbecome me.<br /> +Pray you, on before.<br /> +I'll attend you at dinner.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> For Heaven's sake, don't stay long;<br /> +It is almost ready.<br /> +</p> + +<p>[<i>Exeunt</i> Greedy, Order, Furnace Amble, <i>and</i> Creditors.</p> + +<p> +<i>Wellb.</i> Now, Mr. Marall, what's the weighty secret,<br /> +You promis'd to impart?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir, time nor place<br /> +Allow me to relate each circumstance;<br /> +This only in a word: I know Sir Giles<br /> +Will come upon you for security<br /> +For his thousand pounds: which you must not consent to.<br /> +As he grows in heat (as I am sure he will)<br /> +Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt<br /> +Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land:<br /> +I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame)<br /> +When you were defeated of it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> That's forgiven.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I shall deserve then——urge him to produce<br /> +The deed in which you pass'd it over to him,<br /> +Which I know he'll have about him to deliver<br /> +To the Lord Lovell.<br /> +I'll instruct you farther,<br /> +As I wait on your worship; if I play not my part<br /> +To your full content, and your uncle's much vexation,<br /> +Hang up Jack Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I rely upon thee. [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SCENE III.—<i>A Chamber in</i> Sir Giles's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Allworth <i>and</i> Margaret.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Allw.</i> Whether to yield the first praise to my lord's<br /> +Unequal'd temperance, or your constant sweetness,<br /> +I yet rest doubtful.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Give it to Lord Lovell;<br /> +For what in him was bounty, in me's duty.<br /> +I make but payment of a debt, to which<br /> +My vows, in that high office register'd,<br /> +Are faithful witnesses.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> 'Tis true, my dearest;<br /> +Yet, when I call to mind, how many fair ones<br /> +Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths.<br /> +To fill the arms of greatness;<br /> +And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out,<br /> +Against the stern authority of a father,<br /> +And spurn at honour, when it comes to court you;<br /> +I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly<br /> +Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> To me what's title when content is wanting?<br /> +Or wealth, when the heart pines<br /> +In being dispossess'd of what it longs for?<br /> +Or the smooth brow<br /> +Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will?<br /> +And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted<br /> +By my obedience, and he see me great,<br /> +Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power<br /> +To make her own election.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> But the dangers<br /> +That follow the repulse.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> To me they are nothing:<br /> +Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy.<br /> +Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me;<br /> +A tear or two by you drop'd on my hearse,<br /> +In sorrow for my fate, will call back life,<br /> +So far as but to say, that I die yours,<br /> +I then shall rest in peace.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Heaven avert<br /> +Such trials of your true affection to me!<br /> +Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy,<br /> +Show so much rigour. But since we must run<br /> +Such desperate hazards, let us do our best<br /> +To steer between them.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Lord Lovell is your friend;<br /> +And, though but a young actor, second me,<br /> +In doing to the life what he has plotted.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Sir Giles Overreach.<br /> +<br /> +The end may yet prove happy: now, my Allworth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title,<br /> +And, when, with terms not taking from his honour<br /> +He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him:<br /> +But in this peremptory, nay, commanding, way,<br /> +T'appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge;<br /> +A priest to tie the knot, can ne'er be undone<br /> +Till death unloose it, is a confidence<br /> +In his lordship that will deceive him.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I hope better, good lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Hope, sir, what you please: for me,<br /> +I must take a safe and secure course; I have<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>A father, and without his full consent,<br /> +Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my favour,<br /> +I can grant nothing.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I like this obedience.<br /> +But whatsoever my lord writes, must and shall be<br /> +Accepted and embrac'd. [<i>Aside.</i>]—Sweet Mr. Allworth,<br /> +You show yourself a true and faithful servant<br /> +To your good lord; he has a jewel of you.<br /> +How! frowning, Meg! are these looks to receive<br /> +A messenger from my lord? What's this? give me it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> A piece of arrogant paper, like th'inscriptions.<br /> +<br /> +[Sir Giles <i>reads the letter</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Fair mistress, from your servant learn, all joys<br /> +That we can hope for, if deferr'd prove toys;<br /> +Therefore this instant, and in private, meet<br /> +A husband, that will gladly at your feet<br /> +Lay down his honours, tend'ring them to you<br /> +With all content, the church being paid her due.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool!<br /> +Will you still be one? In the name of madness, what<br /> +Could his good honour write more to content you?<br /> +Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two<br /> +That are already offer'd?<br /> +What would you more?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter,<br /> +Not hurried away i'th' night, I know not whither,<br /> +Without all ceremony; no friends invited,<br /> +To honour the solemnity.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> An't please your honour,<br /> +(For so before tomorrow I must style you,)<br /> +My lord desires this privacy, in respect<br /> +His honourable kinsmen are far off,<br /> +And his desires to have it done brook not<br /> +So long delay as to expect their coming;<br /> +And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due pomp,<br /> +To have his marriage at court celebrated,<br /> +When he has brought your honour up to London.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> He tells you true; 'tis the fashion on my knowledge:<br /> +Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness,<br /> +Must put it off, forsooth.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> I could be contented,<br /> +Were you but by, to do a father's part,<br /> +And give me in the church.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> So my lord have you,<br /> +What do I care who gives you? since my lord<br /> +Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him.<br /> +I know not, Mr. Allworth, how my lord<br /> +May be provided, and therefore there's a purse<br /> +Of gold: 'twill serve this night's expense; tomorrow<br /> +I'll furnish him with any sums. In the meantime<br /> +Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed<br /> +At my manor of Gotham, and call'd Parson Welldo:<br /> +'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him out in't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> With your favour, sir, what warrant is your ring?<br /> +He may suppose I got that twenty ways,<br /> +Without your knowledge; and then to be refus'd,<br /> +Were such a stain upon me—If you please, sir,<br /> +Your presence would be better.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Still perverse?<br /> +I say again, I will not cross my lord,<br /> +Yet I'll prevent you too—Paper and ink there.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I can furnish you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I thank you, I can write then.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Writes on his Book.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord,<br /> +In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write,<br /> +Marry her to this gentleman.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Well advis'd. [Margaret <i>kneels</i>.<br /> +'Tis done: away—my blessing, girl? thou hast it.<br /> +Nay, no reply—begone, good Mr. Allworth;<br /> +This shall be the best night's work you ever made.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> I hope so, sir.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exeunt</i> Allworth <i>and</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Farewell. Now all's cocksure.<br /> +Methinks I hear already knights and ladies<br /> +Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with<br /> +Your honourable daughter? has her honour<br /> +Slept well tonight? or, will her honour please<br /> +To accept this monkey, dog, or paroquet?<br /> +(This is state in ladies) or my eldest son<br /> +To be her page, to wait upon her?——<br /> +My ends, my ends are compass'd! then for Wellborn<br /> +And the lands; were he once married to the widow—<br /> +I have him here——I can scarce contain myself,<br /> +I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over! [<i>Exit.</i><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"></a>ACT. V.</h2> + + +<h3>SCENE I.—<i>A Chamber in</i> Lady Allworth's <i>House</i>.</h3> + +<h4><i>Enter</i> Lovell <i>and</i> Lady Allworth.</h4> + +<p> +<i>Lady A.</i> By this you know how strong the motives were<br /> +That did, my lord, induce me to dispense<br /> +A little with my gravity, to advance<br /> +The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn.<br /> +Nor shall I e'er repent the action,<br /> +For he, that ventur'd all for my dear husband,<br /> +Might justly claim an obligation from me,<br /> +To pay him such a courtesy: which had I<br /> +Coyly, or over curiously deny'd,<br /> +It might have argued me of little love<br /> +To the deceas'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> What you intended, madam,<br /> +For the poor gentleman, hath found good success;<br /> +For, as I understand, his debts are paid,<br /> +And he once more furnish'd for fair employment:<br /> +But all the arts that I have us'd to raise<br /> +The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth,<br /> +Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well.<br /> +For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant<br /> +Than their years can promise; and for their desires,<br /> +On my knowledge they equal.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Though my wishes<br /> +Are with yours, my lord; yet give me leave to fear<br /> +The building, though well grounded. To deceive<br /> +Sir Giles (that's both a lion and a fox<br /> +In his proceedings) were a work beyond<br /> +The strongest undertakers; not the trial<br /> +Of two weak innocents.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Despair not, madam:<br /> +Hard things are compass'd oft by easy means.<br /> +The cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms<br /> +The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth,<br /> +Is by simplicity oft overreach'd.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> May be so.<br /> +The young ones have my warmest wishes.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> O, gentle lady, let them prove kind to me<br /> +You've kindly heard—now grant my suit.<br /> +What say you, lady?<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><i>Lady A.</i> Troth, my lord,<br /> +My own unworthiness may answer for me;<br /> +For had you, when I was in my prime,<br /> +Presented me with this great favour,<br /> +I could not but have thought it as a blessing,<br /> +Far, far beyond my merit.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You are too modest.<br /> +In a word,<br /> +Our years, our states, our births, are not unequal.<br /> +If then you may be won to make me happy,<br /> +But join your hand to mine, and that shall be<br /> +A solemn contract.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I were blind to my own good,<br /> +Should I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me<br /> +As such a one; the study of whose whole life<br /> +Shall know no other object but to please you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> If I return not, with all tenderness,<br /> +Equal respect to you, may I die wretched!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> There needs no protestation, my lord,<br /> +To her, that cannot doubt—You are welcome, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Wellborn.<br /> +<br /> +Now you look like yourself.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> And will continue that I am,<br /> +Your creature, madam, and will never hold<br /> +My life mine own, when you please to demand it.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> It is a thankfulness that well becomes you;<br /> +You could not make choice of a better shape<br /> +To dress your mind in.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> For me, I am happy<br /> +That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late<br /> +Sir Giles, your uncle?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I heard of him, madam,<br /> +By his minister, Marall: he's grown into strange passions<br /> +About his daughter. This last night he look'd for<br /> +Your lordship, at his house; but, missing you,<br /> +And she not yet appearing, his wise head<br /> +Is much perplex'd and troubled.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I hope my project took.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> I strongly hope.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> [<i>Without.</i>] Ha! find her, booby; thou huge lump of<br /> +nothing,<br /> +I'll bore thine eyes out else.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> May it please your lordship,<br /> +For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw<br /> +A little out of sight, though not of hearing.—<br /> +You may, perhaps, have sport.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> You shall direct me. [<i>Exit.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Overreach, <i>drawing in</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I shall sol fa you, rogue!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir, for what cause<br /> +Do you use me thus?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Cause, slave! why, I am angry;<br /> +And thou a subject only fit for beating;<br /> +And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing;<br /> +Let but the seal be broke upon the box,<br /> +That has slept in my cabinet these three years,<br /> +I'll rack thy soul for't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I may yet cry 'quittance;<br /> +Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. [<i>Aside.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady?<br /> +And the lord her husband? Are they in your house?<br /> +If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy:<br /> +And, as an entrance to her place of honour,<br /> +See your ladyship on her left hand.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> When I know, Sir Giles,<br /> +Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it;<br /> +But, in the meantime,<br /> +I give you to understand, I neither know<br /> +Nor care where her honour is.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> When you once see her<br /> +Supported, and led by the lord her husband,<br /> +You'll be taught better.—Nephew!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Well.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> No more!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> 'Tis all I owe you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Have your redeem'd rags<br /> +Made you thus insolent?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Insolent to you? [<i>In scorn.</i><br /> +Why, what are you, sir, unless in years, more than myself?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> His fortune swells him:<br /> +'Tis rank—he's married.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> This is excellent!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Sir, in calm language (though I seldom use it),<br /> +I am familiar with the cause that makes you<br /> +Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buzz<br /> +Of a stolen marriage; Do you hear? of a stolen marriage;<br /> +In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozen'd.<br /> +I name no parties. [Lady Allworth <i>turns away</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Well, sir; and what follows?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Marry, this: since you are peremptory, remember,<br /> +Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you<br /> +A thousand pounds; put me in good security,<br /> +And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute,<br /> +Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you<br /> +Dragg'd in your lavender robe, to the jail; you know me,<br /> +And therefore do not trifle.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Can you be<br /> +So cruel to your nephew, now he's in<br /> +The way to rise? Was this the courtesy<br /> +You did me in pure love, and no ends else?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> End me no ends; engage the whole estate,<br /> +And force your spouse to sign it: you shall have<br /> +Three or four thousand more to roar and swagger,<br /> +And revel in bawdy taverns.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> And beg after:<br /> +Mean you not so?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> My thoughts are mine, and free.<br /> +Shall I have security?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> No, indeed, you shall not:<br /> +Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgement.<br /> +Your great looks fright not me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> But my deeds shall.——<br /> +Out-brav'd! [<i>They both draw.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Two Servants.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> Help! murder! murder!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Let him come on;<br /> +With all his wrongs and injuries about him,<br /> +Arm'd with his cut throat practices to guard him;<br /> +The right I bring with me will defend me,<br /> +And punish his extortion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> That I had thee<br /> +But single in the field!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> You may; but make not<br /> +My house your quarrelling scene.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Were't in a church,<br /> +By heaven and hell, I'll do't.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Now put him to<br /> +The showing of the deed.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> This rage is vain, sir;<br /> +For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full,<br /> +Upon the least incitement: and whereas<br /> +You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds,<br /> +If there be law (howe'er you have no conscience)<br /> +Either restore my land, or I'll recover<br /> +A debt that's truly due to me from you,<br /> +In value ten times more than what you challenge.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I in thy debt! oh, impudence! Did I not purchase<br /> +The land left by thy father? that rich land,<br /> +That had continued in Wellborn's name<br /> +Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool,<br /> +Thou didst make sale of? Is not here<br /> +The deed that does confirm it mine?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Now, now!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I do acknowledge none; I ne'er pass'd o'er<br /> +Such land: I grant, for a year or two,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>You had it in trust: which, if you do discharge<br /> +Surrendering the possession, you shall ease<br /> +Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law;<br /> +Which, if you prove not honest (as I doubt it),<br /> +Must, of necessity, follow.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> In my judgment,<br /> +He does advise you well.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Good, good! conspire<br /> +With your new husband, lady; second him<br /> +In his dishonest practices; but, when<br /> +This manor is extended to my use,<br /> +You'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favor.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Let despair first seize me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give<br /> +Thyself the lie, the loud lie—I draw out<br /> +The precious evidence: If thou canst forswear<br /> +Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of<br /> +Thy ears to the pillory—see, here's that will make<br /> +My interest clear.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Shows the Deed out of his Pocket.</i><br /> +<br /> +Ha!—<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> A fair skin of parchment!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Indented, I confess, and labels too;<br /> +But neither wax nor words. How, thunderstruck!<br /> +Is this your precious evidence? Is this that makes<br /> +Your interest clear?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> I am o'erwhelmed with wonder!<br /> +What prodigy was this? what subtle devil<br /> +Hath raz'd out the inscription? the wax<br /> +Turn'd into dust,<br /> +Made nothing! do you deal with witches, rascal?<br /> +There's a statute for you which will bring<br /> +Your neck in a hempen circle;<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Throws away the deed.</i><br /> +<br /> +Yes there is.<br /> +And now 'tis better thought; for, cheater, know<br /> +This juggling shall not save you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> To save thee,<br /> +Would beggar the stock of mercy.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Marall?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Sir!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Though the witnesses are dead,<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Flattering him.</i><br /> +<br /> +Your testimony.<br /> +Help with an oath or two; and for thy master,<br /> +Thy liberal master, my good honest servant,<br /> +I know you will swear any thing, to dash<br /> +This cunning slight: besides, I know thou art<br /> +A public notary, and such stands in law<br /> +For a dozen witnesses; the deed being drawn too<br /> +By thee, my careful Marall, and deliver'd<br /> +When thou wert present, will make good my title:<br /> +Wilt thou not swear this?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I! No, I assure you.<br /> +I have a conscience not sear'd up like yours;<br /> +I know no deeds.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Wilt thou betray me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Keep him<br /> +From using of his hands, I'll use my tongue<br /> +To his no little torment.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> My own varlet<br /> +Rebel against me?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Yes, and unease you too.<br /> +The idiot! the patch! the slave! the booby!<br /> +The property fit only to be beaten<br /> +For your morning exercise? your football, or<br /> +Th'unprofitable lump of flesh, your drudge,<br /> +Can now anatomize you, and lay open<br /> +All your black plots; level with the earth<br /> +Your hill of pride, and shake,<br /> +Nay pulverize, the walls you think defend you.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady A.</i> How he foams at the mouth with rage!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> O, that I had thee in my gripe, I would tear thee<br /> +Joint after joint!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> I know you are a tearer.<br /> +But I'll have first your fangs pared off; and then<br /> +Come nearer to you; when I have discover'd,<br /> +And made it good before the judge what ways<br /> +And devilish practices you us'd to cozen with.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> [<i>Keep between them.</i>] All will come out.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee,<br /> +And make thee wish, and kneel in vain to die;<br /> +I play the fool, and make my anger but ridiculous.<br /> +There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards,<br /> +When you shall feel what I dare do.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I think so:<br /> +You dare do any ill; yet want true valour<br /> +To be honest, and repent.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> They are words I know not,<br /> +No e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue,<br /> +Shall find no harbour here.—After these storms,<br /> +At length a calm appears.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Greedy <i>and</i> Parson Welldo.<br /> +<br /> +Welcome, most welcome:<br /> +There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done?<br /> +Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain,<br /> +And I am tame.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Welldo.</i> Married? yes, I assure you!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Then vanish all sad thoughts!<br /> +My doubts and fears are in the title drown'd<br /> +Of my right honourable, right honourable daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Here will be feasting, at least for a month!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Instantly be here?<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Whispering to</i> Welldo.<br /> +<br /> +To my wish! to my wish! Now you that plot against me,<br /> +And hoped to trip my heels up; that contemn'd me;<br /> +Think on't, and tremble. [<i>Loud Music.</i>] They come, I hear the music.<br /> +A lane there!<br /> +Make way there for my lord. [<i>Music.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Enter</i> Allworth <i>and</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Marg.</i> Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing with<br /> +Your full allowance of the choice I have made.<br /> +As ever you could make use of your reason, [<i>Kneels.</i><br /> +Grow not in passion; since you may as well<br /> +Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot<br /> +Which is so strongly fasten'd.<br /> +Not to dwell too long on words,<br /> +This is my husband.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> How!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> So I assure you; all the rites of marriage<br /> +With every circumstance are past.<br /> +And, for right honourable son-in-law, you may say<br /> +Your dutiful daughter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Devil! are they married?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Welldo.</i> Do a father's part, and say Heaven give them joy!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Confusion and ruin! Speak, and speak quickly,<br /> +Or thou art dead.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Welldo.</i> They are married.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Thou hadst better<br /> +Have made a contract with the king of fiends<br /> +Than these.——My brain turns!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Welldo.</i> Why this rage to me?<br /> +Is not this your letter, sir? and these the words?<br /> +Marry her to this gentleman.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> It cannot;<br /> +Nor will I ever believe it: 'sdeath! I will not.<br /> +That I, that in all passages I touch'd<br /> +At worldly profit, have not left a print<br /> +Where I have trod, for the most curious search<br /> +To trace my footsteps; should be gull'd by children!<br /> +Baffled and fool'd; and all my hopes and labours<br /> +Defeated, and made void.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Welb.</i> As it appears,<br /> +You are so, my grave uncle.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Village nurses<br /> +Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>A syllable, but thus I take the life<br /> +Which wretched I gave to thee.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Offers to kill</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Hold, for your own sake!<br /> +Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you<br /> +Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here,<br /> +Can leave no hopes for peace or rest hereafter?<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Lord! thus I spit at thee,<br /> +And at thy council; and again desire thee,<br /> +As thou art a soldier, if thy valour<br /> +Dares show itself where multitude and example<br /> +Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change<br /> +Six words in private.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> I am ready.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> You'll grow like him,<br /> +Should you answer his vain challenge.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Sir G.</i> Are you pale?<br /> +Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds,<br /> +I'll stand against both.<br /> +Say, they were a squadron<br /> +Of pikes lined through with shot; when I am mounted<br /> +Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them?<br /> +No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed,<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Flourishing his Sword, sheathed.</i><br /> +<br /> +I'll fall to execution.—Ha! I am feeble:<br /> +Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,<br /> +And takes away the use of't; and my sword,<br /> +Glew'd to my scabbard with wrong'd orphans' tears,<br /> +Will not be drawn. [Servants <i>hold him.</i><br /> +Ha! what are these?—Sure, hangmen,<br /> +That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me<br /> +Before the judgment seat.—Now, they are new shapes,<br /> +And do appear like furies, with steel whips,<br /> +To scourge my ulcerous soul: Shall I then fall<br /> +Ingloriously, and yield? No: spite of fate<br /> +I will be forc'd to hell like to myself;<br /> +Though you were legions of accursed spirits,<br /> +Thus would I fly among you.—<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Dragged off by</i> Order <i>and</i> Amble.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> It's brave sport!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> Brave sport? I'm sure it has ta'en away my stomach.<br /> +I do not like the sauce!<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> Nay, weep not, my dearest,<br /> +<br /> +[<i>To</i> Margaret.<br /> +<br /> +Though it express your pity! what's decreed<br /> +Above, you cannot alter.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Was it not a rare trick,<br /> +(An't please your worship) to make the deed nothing.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> I pray thee discover, what cunning<br /> +Means you us'd to raze out the conveyance.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mar.</i> Certain minerals I us'd,<br /> +Incorporated in the ink and wax.<br /> +Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me<br /> +With hopes and blows: and that was the inducement<br /> +To this conundrum.<br /> +If it please your worship<br /> +To call to memory, this mad beast once caus'd me<br /> +To urge you to drown or hang yourself;<br /> +I'll do the like to him if you command me.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> You are a rascal. He that dares be false<br /> +To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true<br /> +To any other. Look not for reward,<br /> +Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight,<br /> +As I would do a basilisk's.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Greedy.</i> I'll commit him,<br /> +If you'll have me, sir.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Not a word,<br /> +But instantly be gone.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Exit</i> Marall.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Here is a precedent to teach wicked men;<br /> +That when they leave religion, and turn atheists,<br /> +Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take comfort,<br /> +I will endeavour you shall be his guardians<br /> +In his distraction: and for your land, Mr. Wellborn,<br /> +Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire<br /> +Between you, and this the undoubted heir<br /> +Of Sir Giles Overreach: for me, here's the anchor<br /> +That I must fix on.<br /> +<br /> +[<i>Takes</i> Lady Allworth's <i>hand</i>.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Allw.</i> What you shall determine,<br /> +My lord, I will allow of.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> It is a time of action; if your lordship<br /> +Will please to confer a company upon me<br /> +In your command, I doubt not, in my service,<br /> +To my king and country, but I shall do something<br /> +That may make me right again.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lov.</i> Your suit is granted,<br /> +And you lov'd for the motion.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Wellb.</i> Nothing wants then<br /> +<br /> +[<i>To the Audience.</i><br /> +<br /> +But your allowance—and, in that, our all<br /> +Is comprehended; it being known, nor we,<br /> +Nor even the comedy itself is free,<br /> +Without your manumission. That<br /> +Obtain'd,<br /> +Our utmost wish we hold, and from the store<br /> +Of ancient wit, produce one genius more;<br /> +While honest Massinger himself, to night<br /> +Shall teach our modern witlings how to write.<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic +Censor, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + +***** This file should be named 26954-h.htm or 26954-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/5/26954/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Taste, and Dramatic Censor, +Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter + +Release Date: October 18, 2008 [EBook #26954] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + + + + +THE MIRROR OF TASTE, + +AND + +DRAMATIC CENSOR. + + +Vol. I APRIL 1810. No. 4. + + + + +HISTORY OF THE STAGE. + +CHAPTER IV. + +ORIGIN OF COMEDY--ARISTOPHANES--DEATH OF SOCRATES. + + +Though the term "tragedy" has from the first productions of AEschylus to +the present time, been exclusively appropriated to actions of a serious +nature and melancholy catastrophe, there is reason to believe that it +originally included also exhibitions of a pleasant, or comic kind. The +rude satires, and gross mummery which occupied the stage, or rather the +cart, of Thespis, were certainly calculated to provoke mirth in the +multitude. By what has already been shown, the reader is apprised that +the word, in its original sense, bore no relation whatever to those +passions and subjects, to the representations of which it is now +applied; but meant simply a dramatic action performed at the feast of +the goat, in honour of Bacchus. Thus the different provinces of the +drama then undistinguished, were confounded under one term, and +constituted the prime trunk from which sprung forth the two branches of +tragedy and comedy separately--the first in point of time usurping the +original title of the parent stock, and retaining it ever after. + +Why human creatures should take delight in witnessing fictitious +representations of the anguish and misfortunes of their fellow-beings, +in tragedy, and, in comedy of those follies, foibles and imperfections +which degrade their nature, is a question which many have asked, but few +have been able to answer. The facts are admitted. Towards a solution of +their causes, let us consider what is said on the subject of tragedy in +that invaluable work "A philosophical inquiry into the origin of our +ideas of the SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL." + +"It is a common observation," says the author, in the chapter on +sympathy and its effects, "that objects which in the reality would +shock, are, in tragical and such like representations, the source of a +very high species of pleasure. This taken as a fact, has been the cause +of much reasoning. The satisfaction has been commonly attributed, first +to the comfort we receive in considering that so melancholy a story is +no more than a fiction; and next to the contemplation of our own freedom +from the evils which we see represented. I am afraid it is a practice +much too common in inquiries of this nature, to attribute the cause of +feelings, which merely arise from the mechanical structure of our +bodies, or from the natural frame and construction of our minds, to +certain conclusions of the reasoning faculty on the objects presented to +us: for I should imagine that the influence of reason, in producing our +passions, is nothing near so extensive as is commonly believed. + +"To examine this point, concerning the effect of tragedy in a proper +manner, we must previously consider how we are affected by the feelings +of our fellow-creatures, in circumstances of _real_ distress. I am +convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the +_real_ misfortunes and pains of others; for let the affection be what it +will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if, on the +contrary, it induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon +them, in this case we must have a delight or pleasure of some species +or other in contemplating objects of this kind. + +"Do we not read the authentic histories of scenes of this nature with as +much pleasure as romances or poems, where the incidents are fictitious? +The prosperity of no empire, nor the grandeur of no king, can so +agreeably affect in the reading, as the ruin of the state of Macedon and +the distress of its unhappy prince. Such a catastrophe touches us in +history, as much as the destruction of Troy does in fable. Our delight +in cases of this kind is very greatly heightened if the sufferer be some +excellent person who sinks under an unworthy fortune. Scipio and Cato +are both virtuous characters, but we are more deeply affected by the +violent death of the one, and the ruin of the great cause he adhered to, +than with the deserved triumphs and uninterrupted prosperity of the +other; for terror is a passion which always produces delight when it +does not press too close; and pity is a passion accompanied with +pleasure, because it arises from love and social affection. Whenever we +are formed by nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates +us to it is attended with delight; and as our creator has designed we +should be united by the bond of SYMPATHY, he has strengthened that bond +by a proportionable delight; and there most, where our sympathy is most +wanted, in the distresses of others. If this passion was simply painful +we should shun with the greatest care all persons and places that could +excite such a passion; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not +to endure any strong impression, actually do. But the case is widely +different with the greater part of mankind; there is no spectacle we so +eagerly pursue as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity; so that +whether the misfortune is before our eyes, or whether they are turned +back to it in history, it always touches with delight. This is not an +unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. _The delight we +have in such things, hinders us from shunning scenes of misery_; and the +pain we feel _prompts us to relieve ourselves in relieving those who +suffer_; and all this antecedent to any reasoning by an instinct that +works us to its own purposes without our concurrence." + +The great author then proceeds to illustrate this position further, and +after some observations says: + +"The nearer tragedy approaches the reality, and the further it removes +us from all ideas of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its +power what it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a +day to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint +the most favourite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and +decorations; unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting and music; +and when you have collected your audience, just when their minds are +erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high +rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a +moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative +weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the _real_ +sympathy. This notion of our having a simple pain in the reality, yet a +delight in the representation, arises hence, that we do not sufficiently +distinguish what we would by no means choose to do, from what we should +be eager enough to see, if it was once done. We delight in seeing things +which so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be, to see +redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I +believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a +conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to +the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident +to have happened, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the +ruins, and among them many who would have been content never to have +seen London in its glory." + +So much for the causes of the pleasure experienced from tragedy. But how +are we to account for the delight received from comedy? Some have +imagined it to arise from a bad pride which men feel at seeing their +fellow-creatures humiliated, and the frailties and follies of their +neighbours exposed. The fact is indubitable, be the cause what it may. +The great moral philosopher quoted above, in another part of his works, +shrewdly observes, "In the disasters of their friends, people are seldom +wanting in a laudable patience. When they are such as do not threaten to +end fatally, they become even matter of pleasantry." The falling of a +person in the street, or his plunging into the gutter, excites the +laughter of those who witness the accident: but let the fall be +dangerous, or let a bone be broke, and then comic feelings give way to +the sympathetic emotions which belong to tragedy. On a superficial +consideration, the delight we feel in tragedy bears the aspect of a +cruel tendency in our hearts, yet it is implanted in us for the purposes +of mutual beneficence. The pleasure we feel in comedy, too, looks like a +malignity in our nature; but why may not it, like the other, be resolved +into an instinct working us to some useful purpose without our +concurrence? + +The end of comedy, like that of satire, is to correct the disorders of +mankind by exhibiting their faults and follies in ridiculous and +contemptible attitudes. The tendency we feel to laugh at each other's +foibles, or at those misadventures which denote weakness in us, being +implanted by the hands of Providence, was no doubt given to us for +special purposes of good, and in all probability to make men without the +least intervention of will or reason, moral guides and instructers to +each other. It is allowed by the soundest philosophers that ridicule has +a much better effect in curing the vices and imperfections of men, than +the most illustrious examples of rigid virtue, whose duties are so +sublimed that they rather intimidate the greater part of mankind from +the trial, than allure them to walk in their steps. The following +definition of comedy given by Aristotle and adopted by Horace, +Quintilian, and Boileau, corresponds with these observations: "Comedy," +says the Stagyrite, "is an imitation of the worst of men; when I say +worst, I don't mean in all sorts of vices, but only in the ridiculous, +which are properly deformities without pain, and which never contribute +to the destruction of the subject in which they exist." + +It has been remarked that the most severe satirists have been men of +exemplary goodness of heart. The giant satirist Juvenal, was a +conspicuous illustration of this truth. While his superior intelligence +and sagacity unfolded to him in their full size the vices and follies of +his fellow-creatures, his superior philanthropy heightened his +indignation at them. The same may perhaps be said of the dramatic +satirists, or writers of comedy in general. We could adduce many +instances to corroborate this assertion. That very man who stands +unrivalled at the head of comic poetry, stands not less high in the +estimation of all who know him, for generosity and benevolence. If those +who have traversed the life of the author of the School for Scandal with +the greatest ill will to the man, were put to the question which they +thought, his good-nature or his wit were the greater, they would +probably decide in favour of the former. + +The most unamiable form in which comedy has ever appeared, was that it +assumed at its first rise in Greece. The character of the Athenians was +peculiarly favourable to it. The abbe Brumoy who has discussed the +subject with vast labour and talent says, "generally speaking, the +Athenians were vain, hypocritical, captious, interested, slanderous, and +great lovers of novelty." A French author of considerable note, making +use of that people as an object of comparison, says, "_Un peuple aussi +malin et aussi railleur que celui d'Athenes._" They were fond of liberty +to distraction, idolaters of their country, selfish, and vain, and to an +absurd excess scornful of every thing that was not their own. Their +tragic poets laid the unction of flattery in unsparing measure upon this +foible of theirs, representing kings abased as a contrast to their +republican dignity; and with all their greatness, it is easy to detect +through their writings, a lamentable propensity in their muse to play +the parasite with the people. To their gratification of the public +foible, the tragic poets no doubt owed some small part of that idolatry +in which they were held by the Athenian multitude. Yet no sooner did +the comic writers appear, ridiculing those very tragic poets, than they +became still greater favourites with the people. Horace has transmitted +to us the names of three of these comic poets, cotemporaries--Cratinus, +Eupolis and Aristophanes. If there were any before them, their names are +buried in oblivion. Taking the structure of the tragedies of AEschylus +for their model, these commenced the first great era of improvement in +the comic drama. Of the comedies of Cratinus, Quintilian speaks in great +commendation; the little of his poetry, however, that remained is not +thought to justify that praise. Eupolis is related to have composed +seventeen plays at the age of seventeen years. He was put to death by +Alcibiades for defamation, and died unlamented except by a dog, which +was so faithfully attached to him that he refused to take food and +starved to death upon his master's tomb. So that of the three, +Aristophanes alone lays claim here to particular commemoration. + +Perhaps there is not one character of antiquity upon which the opinions +of mankind are divided, and so opposite to each other as that of +Aristophanes. St. Chrysostom admired him so much that he always laid his +works under his pillow when he went to bed. Scaliger maintained that no +one could form a just judgment of the true Attic dialect who had not +Aristophanes by heart. Of Madame Dacier's idolatry he seems to be the +god: while the venerable Plutarch objects to him that he carried all his +thoughts beyond nature; that he wrote not to men of character but to the +mob; that his style is at once obscure, licentious, tragical, pompous +and mean--sometimes inflated and serious to bombast--sometimes +ludicrous, even to puerility; that he makes none of his personages speak +in any distinct character, so that in his scenes the son cannot be known +from the father--the citizen from the boor--the hero from the +shopkeeper, or the divine from the servant. + +Whatever doubts may exist as to his talents there can be none respecting +his morals. To admit all that his panegyrists have said of his genius is +but to augment his depravity, since by the most wicked and wanton +perversion of that genius, he made it the successful instrument of the +most base and barbarous purposes. Against all that was great and wise +and virtuous he with the most malevolent industry turned the shafts of +his poignant wit, his brilliant imagination, and his solid knowledge. +Corrupting the comic muse from her legitimate duty he seduced her from +the pursuit of her fair game, vice and folly, and made her fasten like a +bloodhound upon those who were most eminent for moral and intellectual +excellence. His caricaturing of Sophocles and Euripides, and turning +their valuable writings into ridicule for the amusement of the mob, may +be forgiven--but the death of Socrates will never cease to draw upon +Aristophanes the execration of every man who has the slightest +pretensions to virtue or honesty. + +It is here to be observed that the comedy of Greece is to be ranked +under three distinct heads. The plays composed of ribaldry, defamatory +licentiousness, indecency and loose jokes, which prevailed on the stage +while the supreme power remained in the hands of the multitude, +constitute the first of these; and it goes by the name of the old +comedy. In those pieces no person whatever was spared. Though they were +so modelled and represented as to deserve the name of regular comedy +they were obscene, scurrilous, and defamatory. In them the most +abominable falsehoods were fearlessly charged upon men and women of all +conditions and characters; not under fictitious names, nor by innuendo, +but directly and with the real name of the party, while the execrable +calumniator, protected by the licentious multitude, boldly defied both +the power of the law and the avenging arm of the abused individual. +Among that licentious people, nobody, not even the chief magistrate nor +the very judges themselves, by whose permission the comedians were +permitted to play, received any quarter, but were exposed to public +scorn by any merciless wretch of a libeller who chose to sacrifice them. +Nor were the bad effects of these calumnies confined to public +scorn--they often went to the pecuniary ruin of families; sometimes, as +in the case of Socrates, afterwards to the death of their object. At +length the miscreants proceeded to open impiety, and held up the gods, +no less than men to derision. + +These abuses continued to contaminate the people and disgrace the +country with daily augmented profligacy till a change took place in the +government, which took the administration from the multitude and vested +it in a few chosen men. The corruptions of the stage were then attended +to, and the poets were restrained by law from mentioning any man's name +on the stage. With this law terminated that which is called THE OLD +COMEDY. + +So far was this law from producing the salutary effect expected from it, +that it rendered the poison more mischievous by depriving it of the +grossness which in some degree operated as an antidote to its baleful +effects. The poets finding that certain limits were prescribed to them, +had recourse to greater ingenuity, and by cunning transgressed the +spirit while they obeyed the letter of the law. They fell to work upon +well known real characters, concealed under fictitious names; thereby +not only exciting in the multitude a keener relish for their slanders, +but giving a more wide and extensive scope to the operation of their +malice. When the name of the object was openly told, the calumny rested +upon him alone--but when a fictitious name was held up, however well +known the real object might be, the slander was applied to many, and +each spectator fixed it upon that particular person whom stupidity, +malice, or personal hatred first suggested to him. Thus the hearts of +the people were more corrupted by the more refined malice of guessing +the persons intended. + +This is what has been denominated the MIDDLE COMEDY. In this particular +era it was that Aristophanes flourished, doing more mischief by his +labours than all the wit which was lavished upon the Grecian multitude +in ages could counterbalance. The virulence of the canker, however, at +last enforced the necessity of a resolute cure. The magistrates +interdicted the poets and players not only from using real names but +from representing real subjects. This admirable refinement produced +correspondent effects: comedy assumed a new character, and acquired a +new name. The poets being obliged to bring imaginary subjects and +fictitious names upon the stage, the safety of individuals from those +butcher slanderers was secured, and that safety begat tranquillity--thus +the theatre was gradually purified and enriched; and shortly after +Menander arose to dignify comedy and rescue the drama, and the public +taste of Greece from barbarism. This is the third division alluded to, +and is called the NEW COMEDY. A sad proof of the danger to a nation of +allowing a false or corrupt practice to prevail for any time, arises +from the sequel. The Athenians were so vitiated by the OLD and MIDDLE +comedy that the NEW was disagreeable to them, so that it rose to no +estimation in the world till it was transferred to Rome. + +To his poignant wit, and poisonous malignity, Aristophanes joined great +intrepidity of spirit. By the indefatigable exercise of his talents he +proceeded, unrestrained by fear, unchecked by conscience, inaccessible +to shame or pity, and alike regardless of the anger of foes and the +feelings of friends, giving to the middle comedy still more force and +acumen than ever belonged to the old. He cajoled the multitude by a +plausible affectation of a violent love for Athens, and an inveterate +hatred to all on whom he chose to fix the odium of wishing to enslave +her. Though he was a Rhodian by birth, he had the address to persuade +the Athenian multitude that he was a native of Athens. Wit of a much +more obtuse quality than his could not fail of winning the hearts of +such a people, if it were employed as his was in calumniating men of +wisdom, virtue and dignity. + +An instance of his intrepidity is worth relating. The very first man he +attacked was a man of vast power in Athens, named CLEO: for the purpose +of exposing this man he wrote his comedy of the EQUITES. He could not, +however prevail upon any of the actors to incur the danger of +personating Cleo, so much were they intimidated by the man's power, +wealth and influence. He therefore resolutely determined to play the +character himself; which he did with such diabolical ability that the +Athenian multitude compelled the object of his defamation to reward him +with no less a sum than five talents; cast flowers upon his head; +carried him through the streets, shouting applause, and made a decree +that he should be honoured with a crown of the sacred olive in the +citadel, as a distinction of the highest kind that could be shown to a +citizen. + +The greatest admirer of this mischievous man was Madame Dacier, who +translated from the Greek, and read over no less than two hundred times +his comedy of _The Clouds_. A partiality which no doubt will be allowed +to reflect much credit on that lady's taste, moral as well as critical, +especially when it is considered that it was by that comedy the death of +Socrates was accomplished. Socrates had expressed his disapprobation of +the licentiousness of the comic poets, in their conduct as well as +writings. This exasperated Aristophanes, who, to accomplish his revenge, +conspired with three profligates named Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +orators and rhetoricians, to destroy that godlike being. Defended by the +reverence in which the people held him, Socrates was perpetually secured +from the feeble villany of these three associates, till Aristophanes +joining them, broke down by wit the barrier that protected him. In the +comedy of the Clouds he threw the venerable old man into such forcible +ridicule as overset all the respect of the mob for his character, and +all their gratitude for his services, and they no longer paid the least +reverence to the philosopher whom for fifty years Athens had regarded as +a being of a superior order. This accomplished, the conspirators stood +forth to criminate him; and the philosopher was summoned before the +tribunal of five hundred, where he was accused--first, of corrupting the +Athenian youth--secondly, of making innovations in religion--and +thirdly, of ridiculing the gods which the Athenians worshipped. To prove +these evident falsehoods, false witnesses were suborned, upon whose +perjuries and the envy and malice of the judges, the accusers wholly +relied. They were not disappointed. The judges expected from Socrates +that abject submission, that meanness of behaviour, and that servility +of defence which they were accustomed to receive from ordinary +criminals. In this they were deceived; and his firmness and uncomplying +integrity is supposed to have accelerated his fall. + +The death of Socrates has always been considered one of the most +interesting and afflicting events in history--interesting as it exhibits +in that illustrious philosopher the highest dignity to which mere human +nature has ever attained, and afflicting as it displays in the Athenians +the lowest depth of baseness to which nations may sink. In the history +of the Grecian drama it is necessarily introduced, as it serves to throw +a light upon the effects produced by the dramatic poetry upon that +people, and because a consideration of the manner of that philosopher's +death is inseparably connected with the character of the first of their +comic poets, Aristophanes: this chapter therefore will conclude with a +circumstantial relation of that event, taken from a celebrated +historian: + +"Lysias, one of the most celebrated orators of the age, composed an +oration in the most splendid and pathetic terms, and offered it to +Socrates to be delivered as his defence before the judges. Socrates read +it; but after having praised the eloquence and animation of the whole, +rejected it, as neither manly nor expressive of fortitude; and comparing +it to Sicyonian shoes, which though fitting, were proofs of effeminacy, +he observed that a philosopher ought to be conspicuous for magnanimity, +and for firmness of soul. In his defence he spoke with great animation, +and confessed that while others boasted they knew every thing, he +himself knew nothing. The whole discourse was full of simplicity and +grandeur--the energetic language of offended innocence. He modestly +said, that what he possessed was applied for the service of the +Athenians. It was his wish to make his fellow-citizens happy, and it was +a duty he performed by the special command of the gods, "WHOSE +AUTHORITY," said he emphatically to his judges, "I REGARD MORE THAN +YOURS." This language astonished and irritated the judges, and Socrates +was condemned by a majority of only three votes. When, according to the +spirit of the Athenian laws, he was called upon to pass sentence on +himself, and to choose the mode of his death, he said, "For my attempts +to teach the Athenian youth justice and moderation, and to make the rest +of my countrymen more happy, let me be maintained at the public expense +the remaining years of my life in the Pyrtaneum, an honour, O Athenians +which I deserve more than the victors of the Olympic games: they make +their countrymen more happy in appearance, but I have made you so in +reality." This exasperated the judges still more, and they condemned him +to drink hemlock. Upon this he addressed the court and more particularly +the judges who had decided in his favour, in a pathetic speech. He told +them that to die was a pleasure, since he was going to hold converse +with the greatest heroes of antiquity: he recommended to their paternal +care his defenceless children, and as he returned to the prison, he +exclaimed, "I go to die, you to live; but which is the best the divinity +alone can know."" + +The celebration of the Delian festivals suspended his execution for +thirty days, during which he was loaded with irons; his friends, +particularly his disciples, were his constant attendants, he discoursed +with them with his wonted cheerfulness and serenity--one of them +expressing his grief that he should suffer, though innocent, Socrates +replied, "would you then have me die guilty?"--with this composure he +spent his last days, instructing his pupils, and telling them his +opinions in support of the immortality of the soul. And, oh what a +majestic spectacle! disregarded the entreaties of his friends, and when +it was in his power to make his escape from prison refused it. Crito +having bribed the jailor and made his escape certain, urged Socrates to +fly; "where shall I fly," he replied, "to avoid the irrevocable doom +passed on all mankind?" Christians! wonder at this heathen, and profit +by his example! in his last days he enlarged upon the wicked crime of +suicide, which he reprobated with an acrimony not usual with him, +declaring it to be an inexpiable offence to the gods, and degrading to +man because the basest cowardice. + +When the hour to drink the poison came, the executioner presented him +the cup, with tears in his eyes. Socrates received it with composure, +and after he had made a libation to the gods, drank it with an unaltered +countenance, and a few moments after expired. Thus did the villanous +libeller Aristophanes occasion the death of a man whom all succeeding +generations have concurred in pronouncing the wisest and best of +mankind, in the seventieth year of his age. + +Let justice record the sequel! Socrates was no sooner buried, than the +Athenians repented of their cruelty. His accusers were despised and +shunned; one was put to death; some were banished, and others with their +own hands put an end to a life which their cruelty to the first of +Athenians had rendered insupportable. + + + + +BIOGRAPHY--FOR THE MIRROR. + +SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE MR. HODGKINSON. + +(_Continued from page 212._) + + +It has been found impossible to ascertain, with any degree of precision, +the year of Mr. Hodgkinson's birth. At the time of his death, which +happened in 1805, he was stated to be thirty-six years of age; but there +are many reasons for believing that he was older. There are few ways in +which human folly and vanity so often display themselves, as in the +concealment of age. The celebrated Charles Macklin clipped from his term +of existence not less than ten years, the obscurity of his early life +inducing him to fancy he could make his age whatever he pleased without +detection. Extremely attached to the sex, he wished to appear youthful +in their eyes as long as possible, and fixed his birth at the year 1700; +but it has, since his death, been ascertained, upon authority which +cannot be controverted, that he was, for safety, carried away from the +field, on the day of the battle of the Boyne, in 1690. Indeed there +exist letters of his to his daughter, dated so far back as 1750, stating +his incapacity to chew solid food, and deploring the necessity of living +upon spoon-meat, on account of the loss of his teeth. From circumstances +which the writer of this remembers to have heard from Mr. Hodgkinson, he +suspected that the age of that gentleman was underrated; and therefore +took some pains to collect the best information respecting it. The +result of his inquiry has justified his suspicion. There are in America +several persons who remember Hodgkinson at different periods of his +theatrical life, from whose united opinions it appears most likely that +he was born in 1765. If this estimate be correct (it cannot be far from +it) it must have been early in the year 1781 when he took his flight +from Manchester, and reached the city of Bristol. + +He stopped at a wagon-house in Broad-mead, and was, by the wagoner, +introduced to the landlord, who soon showed, by the conduct of himself +and his family, that he was taught to consider our hero as a curiosity. +They treated him with exemplary kindness, however. The landlord, though +a rough homespun man, bred up in low life, manifested, not only +tenderness and humanity, but a degree of delicacy that could not have +been expected. A grown up young man, a son of his, the very evening he +arrived, took the liberty, upon the wagoner's report, of asking our +adventurer to sing him a song, for which the father reprimanded him, and +turning to John, said "Doant thee, doant thee sing for noabody, unless +thee likest it. If dost, thee'll have enow to do, I can tell thee." This +was one of the little incidents of his life upon which he was accustomed +to advert with pleasure; and often has he, with much good humour, +contrasted it with the rude and indelicate conduct of persons of great +pride and importance. No man that ever lived required less entreaty to +oblige his convivial friends with his charming singing. Of the families +where he was treated with friendship and free hospitality he delighted +to promote the happiness, and to them his song flowed cheerfully: but he +clearly distinguished from those, and has more than once, in the +confidence of friendship, spoken with feeling and considerable asperity, +of the indelicate conduct of some who, aspiring higher, ought to have +known better. "It is indeed," said he to the writer of this, "a trial +which few tempers could stand, but which I have often been obliged to +undergo. A person whom I have met, perhaps at the table of a real +friend, asks me to dine with him: I find a large company assembled upon +the occasion, and hardly is the cloth taken away, when mine host, with +all the freedom of an established acquaintance, without the least +delicacy, or even common feeling, often without the softening +circumstance of asking some other person to begin, or even of beginning +himself, calls upon Mr. Hodgkinson for a song."--"Then why do you +comply? why dont you refuse the invitation? or, if you cannot, why dont +you pretend to be hoarse?" "I will tell you why: because, in a place of +such limited population as this, the hostility of a few would spread +through the whole; and not only mine host, but all those whom he had +invited to Hodgkinson's SONG, would fret at their disappointment, and +their fret would turn to an enmity which I should feel severely in empty +benches at my benefit." "It is not that, Hodge," said this writer; "but, +as Yorick said to corporal Trim, because thou art the very best natured +fellow in the world." It was upon an occasion of this kind Hodgkinson +related to the writer the incident with his Bristol landlord, observing +upon it, that there were many who washed down turtle dinners with +champaigne and burgundy that might derive profit and honour from +imitating the natural politeness and delicacy of that man whom, if they +had seen, they would have called a low fellow or a boor. + +To please the honest wagoner, and one or two fellow-travellers, however, +H. did sing several songs in the evening, and as at that time he had not +learned to drink, they thought themselves the more indebted to him, and +the landlord and his wife put him to sleep with their son, who kept him +awake the greater part of the night, asking him the most ridiculous +questions respecting his parentage, where he came from, whither he was +going, &c. and concluded with expressing his firm belief, because Sally, +the housemaid, had told him so, that he, Hodgkinson, was some great +man's son, who had run away from school, for fear of a flogging: "for +you know," said he, "that none but the great volks can afford to be +great singers and musicianers." + +Resolved to take leave of his kind friend the wagoner, who was to set +off on his return early in the morning, our young adventurer was up +betimes, and went to the stable to look for him. As he stood at the +door, a tall young stripling, dressed in what they call a smock frock, +with a pitchfork in his hand, came up and, taking his station a little +on one side, began to view him from head to foot, scratching his head +and grinning. Our youth was startled and blushed, but said nothing, and +affected firmness; yet he imagined he had seen the man's face before. +The arrival of the wagoner afforded him a seasonable relief, and he +returned with him into the inn kitchen, where breakfast was got ready +and John was invited to sit down and eat. He had hardly swallowed two +mouthfuls when he of the pitchfork, having left his hat and his +instrument aside, entered, and, taking his station at the dresser, +continued to gaze upon him, still scratching his pate and looking +significantly. Our adventurer was sadly disconcerted, but concealed his +emotions so that they were not observed, till breakfast was over, when +the rustic took an opportunity to beckon to him with an intimation to +follow him. They proceeded to the stable, where after carefully looking +out of the back door to see that nobody was near them, the rustic +without any preface said, "I'll tell thee what--thee art Jacky +Meadowcroft!--I know thee as well as I do that horse that stonds there +before my eyes; so don't you go vor to tell loies about it, or to deny +it." Hodgkinson who, though he might be startled, was not to be +intimidated, asked the fellow sturdily, and with a dash of stage +loftiness, what it was to him who he was, or what his name; upon which +the other rather abashed said, "No harm I assure thee Jack, nor hurt +would I do thee for ever so much: but I fear thee be'est upon no good: +now don't think hard of me, but do thee tell me, what prank art thee +upon here?--where dids't thee get those foin clothes?"--To this our +adventurer gave no answer but a look of haughty resentment, putting his +arms akimbo, elevating his head and neck, and finishing with a +contemptuous sneer of the right barn-buskin kind. "Nay, now," said the +other, "I am sure of it. Yes, Jack Meadowcroft thee hast left thy honest +parents, and mixed with the strolling fellers--the play actors,--a pize +upon them, with their tricks, making honest folks laugh to pick their +pockets." + +Our youth now saw that it would be useless to persevere in concealment, +and said to the other with a good-humoured cheerful air, "Who are you +who know me so well, and seem so much concerned about me?" "My name be +Jack as well as thine," replied the honest-hearted bumpkin. Hodgkinson +then discovered that the young man had been for sometime a stable-boy +at Manchester, and was in the habit of going to his mother's house with +the gentlemen of the long whip; but being elder than John had not been +much noticed by him. H. understood from him that his singing at night +was the first thing that raised his suspicions, and that he determined +to know all about it in the morning. "I was pretty sure at the first +sight, said he, that thee wert Jack Meadowcroft; but still I was not +quite certain till I heard thee chattering with the folks at breakfast: +so being ostler, I called thee out to the stable to speak to thee _in +private_: for I'll tell thee what Jack, I will not betray thee." +Hodgkinson then told him that though he loved music and acting, and +should be glad to be a good player (at which the fellow shook his head) +he had not yet mixed with any strollers, nor did he believe any +strollers would let him mix with them; as he was too young and had not a +figure or person fit for their purpose; but his object was to go to sea +to escape from tyranny, hard fare, and oppression. + +How often are the intentions of the best heart frustrated by the +blunders of an uninformed head. Who can, without respect and admiration, +contemplate the sturdy integrity, and simple zeal with which this rustic +moralist enforced his laudable though mistaken notions? who can help +reflecting with some surprise upon the fact, that before he ceased to +apothegmatise and advise his young friend against having anything to do +with the actors he was actually the first who put him seriously in the +notion of going directly upon the stage as a public actor? It was a +curious process, and we will endeavour to relate it as nearly as +possible in the way Hodgkinson related it to us: + +"A plague upon going to sea," said the honest fellow, "I can't abide it, +thoff it be a hard, honest way of getting one's bread, and for that +reason ought to wear well--but some how or other I never seed a sailor +having anything to the fore; but always poor and dirty, except now and +then for a spurt. There's my two brothers went to sea, and it makes my +hair stand on end to hear what they go through; I would not lead such a +life--no, not for fifty pound a year; evermore some danger or some +trouble. One time a storm, expecting to be drowned--another a battle +with cannon, expecting to be murdered--one time pressed--another time +chased like a hare, that I wonder how they live. No, Jack, doan't thee +go to sea; but stay at home and die on dry land. Why see how happy I am! +and I'll be hong'd if measter within would'nt take thee with all love, +to tend customers and draw the beer: ay, and 'twould be worth his while +too, for thy song would bring custom, let me tell thee. As to being a +play-actor, confound it, I hate the very word; you need not think +anything about your size. Thou'rt very tall and hast a better face to +look at than any on 'un I see; and though thou be'est knock-kneed a bit, +its the way with all growing boys. Lord love thee, Jack, if wert to see +some of them fellows, for all they look so on the stage with paint and +tinsel and silk, when they stop to take a pint of beer, I think they be +the ugliest, conceitedest, foolishest talken fellows I ever ze'ed. Why +there's one feller was here for three days all time quite drunk--went +yesterday to Bath to get place there among them. He's a player, and as +ugly as an old mangy carthorse. But he's an Irishman to be sure, and +they say he won't do at Bath because he wants an eye." + +"You have players here at times then," said H. interrogatively. + +"Yes! sometimes they comes for their baggage, that is, their trunks and +boxes and women and children. Sometimes the poor souls on 'un come in +the wagon themselves. Sometimes when it's a holliday we 'un, they walk +out to Stapleton and other parts to kill time, being very idle people; +then they stop to take beer here, and they talk such nonsense that I +can't abide the tuoads. Lauk! thee why Jack, thee know'st I would not +flatter thee now--thee art a king to some on 'un that talks ten times as +big as king George could for the life o' him." + +This intelligence given by the honest simpleton, in all likelihood for +the purpose of disgusting our adventurer with the stage, communicated +to him the first proud presentiment he felt of what afterwards occurred. +The thought instantly struck him, "If performers, so very despicable as +this man describes, are endured upon a public stage, thought he, why may +not I?--cannot I be as useful as them? besides I can--but these men +sing, I suppose--do not they sing John, much better than me?" "Noa, I +tell thee they doan't: sing better than thee! they can't sing at all. A +tinker's jackass is as good at it as any of them I see here. When they +are on the stage (I went three or four times with our Sall to the play) +od rot 'un--they make a noise by way of a song, and the musicianers sing +for them on their fiddles." The man to whom honest John alluded, arrived +from Bath that very day, execrating the injustice of the Bath and +Bristol managers, who though they could not but be convinced of his +talents, refused to give him even a trial. Our adventurer surveyed him +from head to foot, and from the information of the man's face, voice, +deportment, language, and person, concluded with himself that he had +little to fear; "If, said he, this man has ever been received as an +actor by any audience in this world, I'll offer myself to the first +company I meet." He was precisely such as the ostler had described +him--he wanted an eye, and was frightfully seamed by the small-pox, +which not only had deprived him of that organ, but given him a snuffling +stoppage of the nose. Such as this, was the whole man in every point, +who actually boasted that he was allowed by all judges to play Jaffier +better than any man that ever lived, but Barry, and who, disgusted with +the British managers for their want of taste, took shipping that very +evening for Cork.[A] + +Without imparting a hint of his intention to the ostler who vowed, "as +he hoped to be saved" that he would never betray him (a vow which he +religiously fulfilled) Hodgkinson resolved to introduce himself in some +shape or other, to the company of the theatre as soon as they should +return from Bath to Bristol; an event which was to take place according +to the course of their custom, in two days. Meantime he walked +frequently to the theatre, in order to indulge himself with looking at +the outside of it; and he made the fine square before it, his promenade, +where he gave a loose to his imagination, and anticipating his future +success, built castles in the air from morning till night. + +He was at this work when the players returned from Bath. He saw the +gates laid open, and having taken his post at the passage to the +stage-door, resolved first to reconnoitre those who entered, and collect +from circumstances as they might occur, some clue to guide him in his +projected enterprise. As this was one of the eras in his life on which +he loved to ruminate and converse, he was more than commonly +circumstantial in his account of it. "There is a long passage," said he, +"that goes up to the stage-door at Bristol. For the first two days I +stood at the outside, but becoming more impatient, and impatience making +me bold, I took my station in the passage, with my hat under my left arm +stood up with my back to the wall, and as the actors and people of the +theatre passed by to rehearsal, I made a bow of my head to those whose +countenances and manners seemed most promising. For several days not one +of them took the least notice of me. There was one of them who looked so +unpromising that I should hardly have given him the honour of my bow, if +it were not for his superior age and venerable aspect; and I believe +when I did give it to him, it was but a mutilated affair. There was a +starched pompous man, too, whose aspect was, to my mind, so forbidding +and repulsive that I never _condescended_ to take much notice of him. +From a loquacious, good-natured and communicative old Irish woman who +sold fruit at the door I gained the intelligence that the former of +these was Mr. Keasberry the manager--the other Mr. Dimond. That Mr. D. +said I to her, seems to be a proud man. "Och, God help your poor head!" +said my informant; "it's little you know about them; by Christ, my dear, +there's more pride in one of these make-games that live by the shilling +of you and me, and the likes of us, than in all the lords in the +parliament house of Dublin, aye and the lord-lieutenant along with them, +though he is an Englishman, and of course you know as proud as the devil +can make him:--not but the old fellow is good enough, and can be very +agreeable to poor people," My first act of extravagance in Bristol was +giving this poor woman three half-pence for an orange, and making her +eat a piece of it; a favour which many years after she had not +forgotten." + +"I believe it was on the fourth day of my standing sentinel," continued +H. "that the old gentleman passing by me, I made him a bow of more than +ordinary reverence. The Irishwoman's character of him had great weight +with me, and my opinions and feelings were transferred to my salute. He +walked on a few steps, halted, looked back, muttered something to +himself and went on. I thought he was going to speak, and was so dashed, +I wished myself away; yet when he did not speak, I was more than ever +unhappy. He returned again with two or three people about him in +conversation; his eye glanced upon me, but he went on without speaking +to me, and I left the place--for, said I to myself, if this man does not +notice me, none of them will. Discouraged and chop fallen I returned to +Broad-mead, and on my way began, for the first time, to reflect with +uneasiness upon my situation. + +"Next day, however, I returned to the charge, and assumed my wonted post +in the way to the stage-door of the theatre. Instinctively I took my +stand further up the passage, and just at the spot where the old +gentleman had the day before stopped and turned to look at me--after +some minutes I saw him coming--I was ashamed to look towards him as he +advanced, but I scanned his looks through the corner of my eye--my mind +misgiving me at the moment, that I had a mean and guilty look, so that +when he came up, I made my reverence with a very grave, I believe +indeed, a very sad face. The old gentleman stopped, and my heart beat so +with shame and trepidation that I thought I should have sunk. He saw my +confusion, yet addressed me in a manner which, though not unkind nor +positively harsh, was rather abrupt. "I have observed you, boy, for +several days," said he, "standing in this passage, and bow to me as I go +by; do you wish to say anything to me? or do you want anything?" I +hesitated, and was more confused than I remember to have ever been +before or since:--"Speak out, my boy, said he, do not be afraid!" These +words which he uttered in a softened, kinder tone, he accompanied with +an action which gave the most horrible alarm to my pride, and suggested +to my imagination a new and frightful idea. He passed his hand into his +pocket as if feeling for cash. Great God! said I to myself, have I +incurred the suspicion of beggary! the thought roused all of the man +that was within me, and I replied, "No, sir, I am not afraid; nor do I +_want_ anything." He afterwards owned that the words, and still more the +delivery of them, made a strong impression upon him. Well then, my good +boy, what is it you wish for? coming here successively for so many days, +and addressing yourself to me by a salute, you must surely either want +or wish for something. "Sir," replied I, "I wish to go upon the stage." +"Upon the stage," said he emphatically, "how do you mean? oh to look at +the scenery I suppose"--"No, sir--I wish to be an actor."" + +Thus far the words of Hodgkinson himself are given. The name of the old +gentleman had entirely escaped the writer of this, who, when he heard +the relation from Hodgkinson, little thought that it would ever devolve +upon him to pay this posthumous tribute to his memory. Upon the facts +being since related, and the description of the person being given to +some gentlemen long and well acquainted with the affairs of the Bath and +Bristol theatres, they have cleared up the point to the writer, whose +recollection, though faint, perfectly coincides with their assurance +that it must have been Mr. Keasberry, who was at that time manager, and +with whose character this account is said to agree accurately. + +"I wish to be an actor," said our adventurer. The confidence and +firmness with which the boy spoke, surprised and greatly diverted the +old manager, who after eyeing him attentively a minute or two, +exclaimed, "You an actor, you young rascal!" then laughed heartily, and +continued, "An actor indeed! and what the devil part would you think of +acting?" By this time some of those who attended the theatre, +doorkeepers or supernumeraries, came up, and Mr. K. said to them, +laughing, "Here's a gentleman proposes to be an actor." And again +addressing the boy he said to him with an affected solemnity, "Pray, +sir, what character have you yet thought of enacting?" The jibing manner +in which this was spoken by the manager, and the sneering, scornful +looks of the sycophants about him, who, to curry favour with him, +chuckled at his cleverness, had nearly disconcerted the poor boy; +however, he was naturally resolute, and replied, "If I can do nothing +else I can snuff candles, or deliver a message, or do anything that +young lads do." "You can indeed?" "Yes, sir, and I can do more, I can +play the fiddle and sing a good song." "A good song! I dare say--but +d----d badly I'll answer for it." "Won't you give me a fair trial, sir?" +"Fair trial indeed!" repeated the old man laughing, and walking on a +step--"fair trial! a pretty trial truly--however," said he, turning +round and beckoning to the boy, as he got to the stage-door, "Come this +way, and let's hear what further you have to say for yourself!" + +Hodgkinson followed the manager, and for the first time in his life set +his foot on the stage of a public theatre. The actors were rehearsing; +and ensconced behind one of the side scenes he looked on, and "_with the +very comment of my soul I did observe them_," said he, "and not to +conceal anything from you, I thought I could have done a great part of +it much better myself! oh that I were but a little bigger and had a +beard! said I to myself twenty times while the actors were going through +the business." Had they thought of infant Rosciuses at the time, his +bread had been buttered on both sides, as the saying is. The rehearsal +being over, Mr. K. advanced to him and said, "You wish to be an actor, +eh!"--then turning to one of the actors, "Here is a person," continued +he, "who desires to go upon the stage, and is content by the way of a +beginning, to snuff the candles--humble enough you'll say. But he says +he can sing;" then ironically to H. "Now, pray sir, do us the favour to +say what song you _can_ sing--you perceive the gentlemen of the band are +in the orchestra--or perhaps you would rather accompany yourself, as you +say you play the fiddle." Then without giving him time to answer he said +to one of the band, "hand this gentleman a fiddle, as he calls it." +Hodgkinson took the fiddle, and pitching upon the beautiful _Finale_ at +the end of the first act of the farce of the Padlock, he played and sung +it not only to the astonishment of them all, but so much to their +satisfaction and delight, that Mr. K. after asking him whether he +thought he could sing accompanied by the band, and being answered in the +affirmative, spoke to the orchestra to go over the Finale with him, and +desired H. to sing it again. Emboldened by this mark of approbation, +John asked permission to sing another song: Mr. K. assented: the boy +then stepped forward to the orchestra and asked the leader whether it +would suit him to play one of the songs of Lionel? Certainly, he +replied, which of them? "Oh dry those Tears," said our juvenile hero: a +murmur escaped them all, as if they thought his vanity was carrying him +too far. "Try him, by all means try him," said Mr. K.--The boy +sung--their surprise was now raised to astonishment--and Mr. K. patting +him on the head, emphatically said to him, "My boy, you'll never be a +candle snuffer. For the present, however, you may carry a letter--or +something more perhaps." He then interrogated him--"have you ever been +about a theatre:--perhaps your parents are?"--"No sir, I never had the +sole of my foot on a stage till now." "Where then did you first learn +to sing?" "In our church sir." "Your church! where is your church?" Here +finding that he had got into a dilemma, he hesitated and blushed: "a +number of other boys and I practised music together, sir." "But +where?"--then perceiving the boy's distress, Mr. K. shifted the question +and said, "So much for your singing, but where, in God's name, did you +learn to accompany your singing with such action; which I declare, said +he, turning to the people on the stage, wants little to be what I should +call perfect for a singer?" "We boys, sir, acted plays together." "And +you played--" "Several parts, sir." "You surprise me, boy!" "Well," said +he, "call upon this gentleman tomorrow morning betimes, and he will +converse with you." He then turned to the person who was acting as +prompter, and whispered him, when Hodgkinson, after getting the +gentleman's direction, made his bow. As he was going down the passage a +lad followed him and told him the manager had sent to let him know that +if he pleased he might come on the stage that evening during the +performance. + +Never before had our adventurer experienced such transporting +sensations. To use his own words, his head whirled and sung again with +delight. Instead of going straight back to Broad-mead, he walked about +the square plunged in a delicious reverie--perfectly insensible of +hunger or fatigue he continued on the stride, up the river side and +down, then about the square again--then here, then there, in short he +knew not whither nor why, wholly forgetful of home, dinner, and every +thing till some time after the playhouse opened, when going to the +stage-door he was admitted, and when he got behind the scenes, was +kindly accosted by some, questioned very impertinently, and curiously by +others, and stared at by all. The after-piece for the night was "the +Contrivances," which he had never seen or heard of before. He was vastly +taken with the song of "Make haste and away my only dear;" and as he +passed down from the stage, hummed it to himself; on which one of the +gentlemen of the band who was near him accosted him, "Hah, master +Henry, is it you?--you have practised every piece on the stage, one +would think--and the Contrivances has not escaped you." "My name is not +Henry, sir--my name is John." "Well, Master John then, I beg your +pardon, but you have been at Rover I see." "No, sir, I never saw or +heard of the Contrivances till this night's performance." "You can't say +so," said the other, "you have learned that song before, assuredly!" +"Upon my word it is a truth, sir; I never heard it before tonight." "Do +me the favour to hum it over again for me," said the musician. +Hodgkinson complied. "Why you have the words of the song as well as the +air." "Of one verse only, sir: but the next time, I shall catch the +whole of it." The musician expressed his astonishment, and asked the boy +where he lodged; to which John replied, "Off this way, sir," and ran +away as fast as he could to Broad-mead, where he was resolved it should +not be known, for sometime, at least, that he had any connexion with the +theatre. + +When he reached his hospitable landlord and family, he found that they +had all been in great consternation at his absence. He had that morning +spoken to his friend John the ostler, about selling his silver buckles, +in order to pay his bill, and the generous souls were all afraid that he +was in distress. "Hast thee eat nothing since breakfast," said the good +man; "Lauk! why thee must be famished--what bewitched thee to stay away +from thy meals, child," cried the wife, "tis very bad for a young thing +like thee to fast," said another: and numberless other kind and tender +expostulations were uttered by the good people one and all, while ostler +John who was more frightened about him than any of them, and could not +get the naughty players out of his head, coming in said with +affectionate surliness, "Soh! thee'st come back, be thee?--Ecod thee +deservst to ha thee jacket trimmed, so thee dost--a young tuoad like +thee to stay out, God knows where, to this time o' night?" "Dont be +angry John," replied our adventurer, "dont be angry--and as to trimming, +John, it is not in thy jacket, to trim my jacket John--so go to your +hayloft and dont make a fool of thyself!" In saying this he mimicked +John's clownish lingo so nearly that the family burst out laughing, and +John went off, growling out that he believed the devil or his imps the +player fellers had got possession of the boy. + +"John is thy friend," said the landlord, "he was quite down o' the mouth +about thee." "And I love and thank John," said Hodgkinson, "but I could +not help making fun of him for his talking of beating me. I accidentally +met with a friend who offered to bring me to the play, and I was so glad +I never thought of dinner." "Well come now," then said the good man, +"pay away upon that beef--lay in dinner and supper at once, my boy, and +thee shall have a cann of as good _yeal_ as any in Somersetshire, and +moreover than all that it shall cost thee nothing but the trouble of +drinking it--so here's to thee, my boy." The worthy man drank, and his +wife drank, and son and daughter, and all drank, and H. told them all +about the play, and sung, "Make haste and away my only dear," for them, +to their great delight. He was then too innocent and too young to direct +it to the young lady of the house, or it is more than probable that she +would have been more delighted with it, than any of them. + +The next morning early he waited on Mr. ----,[B] the prompter, who told +him that Mr. K---- desired that he would keep about the theatre, and +make himself as useful as he could in anything that might occur, till +something could be done for him. He accordingly attended it diligently, +examining and watching every thing done and every body that did it, and +storing his young mind with useful knowledge of the profession. What his +pittance was, he never told this writer, who therefore concludes it must +have been very small, particularly as he sold his buckles, and plumed +himself upon not parting with the silver seal given him by his old +friend at Manchester. + +(_To be continued._) + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] Upon comparing notes with Hodgkinson, and considering his +description, I was convinced that this was no exaggerated picture. +Precisely such a man I remember to have seen, but not playing. He was in +a strolling company in Ireland, and was admired for his miraculous power +of making people merry with tragedy. He was a well-meaning, honest, +simple poor man, but even his performance of Jaffier was hardly as +comical as the compliments he himself lavished upon it. + + _Biographer._ + + +[B] The name is entirely forgotten by the biographer. + + + + +BARRY, THE PLAYER. + + The following description of the person and acting of the + celebrated BARRY the player is introduced here, to accompany + the life of Hodgkinson, because a clear recollection of the + former in a multitude of characters, a long and scrutinous + investigation of the professional powers of the latter, and + an intimate knowledge of both of them, has long established + in our minds the unalterable opinion that of all the + performers who make up the feeble crowd that have followed + the men of Garrick's day in sad procession, not one so + nearly trod in the footsteps of Barry (_sed heu longo + intervallo_) as Hodgkinson. Whatever may have been said of + his comedy, we never could contemplate it with half the + satisfaction we received from some of his tragic + performances. His Osmond, his De Moor, and his Romeo were + infinitely superior to his Belcour, Ranger, and Ollapod. And + his Jaffier unquestionably stood next to Barry's. We know + nothing of Mr. Young, therefore do not mean to include him + in this position, though seeing and hearing what we every + day see and hear, of the present facility of pleasing in + England, we receive the encomiums of the other side of the + Atlantic on their passing favourites _cum grano salis_. In a + word, we are persuaded that Hodgkinson came nearer to Barry + in Barry's line, than any actor now living does to Garrick, + Barry, or Mossop in theirs. In Faulconbridge, and in it + alone he was perhaps equal to Barry. + + +Spranger Barry was in his person above five feet eleven inches high, +finely formed, and possessing a countenance in which manliness and +sweetness of feature were so happily blended, as formed one of the best +imitations of the Apollo Belvidere. With this fine commanding figure, he +was so much in the free and easy management of his limbs, as never to +look encumbered, or present an ungraceful attitude, in all his various +movements on the stage. Even his _exits_ and _entrances_ had peculiar +graces, from their characteristic ease and simplicity. What must have +greatly assisted Barry in the grace and ease of treading the stage, was +his skill in dancing and fencing; the first of which he was early in +life very fond of; and, on his coming to England, again instructed in, +under the care of the celebrated Denoyer, dancing-master to Frederick +Prince of Wales's family. This was done at the prince's request after he +had seen him play in lord Townley, in the Provoked Husband. In short +when he appeared in the scene, grouped with other actors of ordinary +size, he appeared as much above them in his various qualifications as in +the proud superiority of his figure. + + "So, when a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, + All eyes are idly bent on him who follows next." + +To this figure he added a voice so peculiarly musical as very early in +life obtained him the character of "the silver-toned Barry," which, in +all his love scenes, lighted up by the smiles of such a countenance, was +persuasion itself. Indeed, so strongly did he communicate his feelings +on these occasions, that whoever observed the expressive countenances of +most of the female part of his audience, each seemed to say, in the +language of Desdemona, + + "Would that Heaven had made me such a man." + +Yet, with all this softness, it was capable of the fullest extent of +rage, which he often most powerfully exemplified, in several passages of +Alexander, Orestes, Othello, &c. + +We are aware of Churchill's criticism in the Rosciad standing against +us, where he says, "his voice comes forth like Echo from her cell." But +however party might have cried up this writer as a poet and a satirist +of the first order, Goldsmith had the sense and manliness to tell them +what they called satires were but tawdry lampoons, whose turbulence aped +the quality of force, whose frenzy that or fire. Beside, Churchill had a +stronger motive than prejudice or whim: the great hero of his poem was +Garrick; and as Barry was his most formidable rival, he had little +scruple to sacrifice him on this occasion. + +But to leave the criticisms of this literary drawcansir to that oblivion +to which they seem to be rapidly hastening, let us examine the merits +of Barry in some of those characters in which he was universally allowed +to excel; and on this scale we must give the preference to Othello. This +was the first character he ever appeared in, the first his inclination +prompted him to attempt--and the first without question, that exhibited +his genius in the full force and variety of its powers. + +In the outset of Othello, when he speaks but a few short sentences, +there appears a calmness and dignity in his nature, as evidently show +"the noble qualities of the Moor." These sentences we have often heard +spoken (and by actors too who have had considerable reputation) as if +they had been almost totally overlooked; reserving themselves for the +more shining passages with which this tragedy so much abounds: but Barry +knew the value of these introductory traits of character, and in his +first speech, "_'Tis better as it is_," bespoke such a preeminence of +judgment, such a dignified and manly forbearance of temper, as roused +the attention of his audience, and led them to expect the fullest +gratification of their wishes. + +His speech to the senate was a piece of oratory worthy the attention of +the critic and the senator. In the recital of his "feats of broils and +battles," the courage of the soldier was seen in all the charms of +gallantry and heroism; but when he came to those tender ejaculations of +Desdemona, + + "In faith 'twas strange--'twas passing strange! + 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful!" + +his voice was so melodiously harmonized to the expression, that the sigh +of pity communicated itself to the whole house, and all were advocates +for the sufferings of the fair heroine. + +In the second act, when he meets Desdemona at Cyprus, after being +separated in a storm, his rushing into her arms, and repeating that fine +speech, + + ----"Oh! my soul's joy! + If after every tempest come such calms," &c. + +was the voice of love itself; describing that passion in so ecstatic a +manner as seemingly to justify his fears + + "That not another comfort like to this + Succeeds in unknown fate." + +Through the whole of the third act, where Iago is working him to +jealousy, his breaks of _love_ and _rage_ were masterpieces of nature, +and communicated its first sympathies; but in his conference with +Desdemona, in the fourth act, where he describes the agonizing state of +his mind, and then, looking tenderly on her, exclaims, + + "But there, where I had garnered up my heart, + Where either I must live or bear no life," + +the extremes of love and misery were so powerfully painted in his face, +and so impressively given in his tones, that the audience seemed to lose +the _energies of their hands_, and could only thank him _with their +tears_. + +We have to lament, that in many of the last acts of some of our best +dramatic writers, there wants that degree of finish and grouping equal +to the rest. Shakspeare sometimes has this want in common with others; +but in this play he has lost none of his force and propriety of +character--here all continue to speak the language of their +conformation, and lose none of their original importance. Barry was an +actor that, in this particular, kept pace with the great poet he +represented--he supported Othello throughout with unabating +splendor--his ravings over the dead body of the _innocent_ Desdemona, +his reconciliation with Cassio, and his dying soliloquy, were all in the +full play of varied excellence, and forced from the severest critic the +most unqualified applause. + +That this our opinion is not exaggerated, we refer to that of Colley +Cibber, an unquestionable good judge of his art, and who, with all his +partialities to Betterton, yet gave Barry the preference in Othello. In +short, it was from first to last a gem of the noblest kind, which can be +no otherwise defined than leaving every one at liberty to attach as +much excellence to it as he can conceive, and then suppose Barry to have +reached that point of perfection. + +His other favourite characters were, Jaffier, Orestes, Castalio, +Phocias, Varanes, Essex, Alexander, Romeo, &c. In all characters of this +stamp, where the lover or hero was to be exhibited, Barry was _unique_; +insomuch, that when Mrs. Cibber (whose reputation for love and plaintive +tenderness was well known) played with Garrick, she generally +represented his _daughter_ or _sister_--with Barry she was always his +_mistress_. + +He likewise excelled in many parts of genteel comedy; such as lord +Townly, Young Belville, &c. &c. The Bastard in King John, was another +fine character of his, which Garrick attempted in vain--having neither +sufficiency of figure, or heroic jocularity. To that may be added Sir +Callaghan O'Brallaghan, in Macklin's farce of Love-a-la-Mode; a part in +which he gave such specimens of the gallant simplicity and integrity of +the _Irish gentleman_, as were sufficient to establish an independent +reputation. + +Though his Hamlet, Richard, Lear, Macbeth, &c. were _star height_ above +what we see now, he lost by a comparison with Garrick. Here the latter +showed the _master_ in an uncommon degree; as he did in all the quick +animated parts of tragedy. In the spritely, light kind of gentlemen, +Garrick had likewise the advantage; and in the whole range of low comedy +he blended such a knowledge of his art with the simplicity of nature as +made all the minutiae of the picture complete. Thus his _Abel Drugger_ +was as perfect in design and colouring as the miseries and distresses of +_Royal Lear_. + +In talking of these actors, it is impossible for the _amateurs_ of the +stage not to regret their loss with some degree of sensibility--not only +as men who contributed to the entertainment and refinement of their +youth, but whose death seem to threaten a decay of the profession +itself. There are periods when the arts and sciences seem to mourn in +sullen silence the departure of those original geniuses, who, for +years, improved, exalted and refined them; and, like widows, whose +hearts were sincerely pledged to their first lords, will not sacrifice +on the altar of affectation to _secondary wooers_. Painting and statuary +suffered such a loss in the deaths of Titian, Raphael, and Michael +Angelo, that more than two centuries have not been able to supply it; +and how long the _present stage_ may want the aid of such powerful +supporters as _Garrick_ and _Barry_, the experience of near thirty years +holds out but very little hopes of encouragement. + +To this admirable description as true as it is eloquent, we subjoin the +following extracts from the old Dramatic Censor of England. + + * * * * * + +Speaking of Castalio in _The Orphan_, he says, "His circumstances give +great scope for the exertion of various capital powers, which were +amazingly well supplied in the elegant figure, bewitching voice, and +excellent acting of Mr. Barry; who, in this part, defied the severest +criticism, and justly claimed what he always obtained, the warmest +applause that enchanted feelings could bestow." + + +_Antony in Julius Caesar._ + +Mr. Barry beyond doubt stands foremost in our approbation for this part, +as possessing an adequate figure, an harmonious voice, and all the +plausibility of insinuation that Shakspeare meant; however, we think +that critic an enthusiastic admirer, who, speaking of him in the +Rostrum, exclaimed that Paul never preached so well at Athens.[C] It is +certain, nature in this, as well as in all his dramatic undertakings, +furnished him with irresistible recommendations. + + +_Varanes in Theodosius, or the Force of Love._ + +Varanes, who was most the object of our author's attention, is an odd +medley of love and pride; now he will, then will not; tender, impatient; +in short a romantic madman; yet notwithstanding inconsistencies of a +glaring nature, he is a dramatic personage highly interesting. Mr. Barry +must, in imagination, to those who are at all acquainted with his +performance, fill up every idea of excellence in this character: his +love was enchanting, his rage alarming, his grief melting: even now, +though overtaken by time, and impaired in constitution, he has not the +shadow of a competitor. The rheumatic stiffness of his joints has been +industriously trumpeted forth, and every mean art made use of to lower +him in public opinion; yet true it is that _if he hobbled upon stilts_, +he would be better than many persons, in his style, upon their best +legs. A gentleman of acknowledged judgment lately made the following +just and striking similitude: that Mr. Barry was like the time-worn +ruins of Palmyra and Balbec, which even in a fallen state show more +dignity and real beauty, than the most complete productions of modern +architecture.[D] + + +_In Altamont in The Fair Penitent._ + +After observing that this character lies a dead weight upon the play, +this great critic says, "We remember Mr. Barry, by exertion of singular +merit, making Altamont as respectable as any other character in the +piece, though Mr. Garrick did _Lothario_ and Mr. Sheridan _Horatio_ on +the same occasion. Indeed he so much outfigured all competitors and +illustrated so beautifully a character scarce known before, that he +appeared to great advantage." + + +_Othello._ + +"If any performer ever was born for one part in particular it must have +been Mr. Barry for the Moor: his figure was a good apology for +Desdemona's attachment, and the harmony of his voice to tell such a tale +as he describes, must have raised favourable prejudice in any one who +had an ear, or a heart to feel. There is a length of periods and an +extravagance of passion in this part, not to be found in any other for +so many successive scenes, to which Mr. Barry appeared peculiarly +suitable. He happily exhibited the hero, the lover, and the distracted +husband; he rose through all the passions to the utmost extent of +critical imagination, yet still appeared to leave an unexhausted fund of +expression behind; his rage and tenderness were equally interesting, but +when he uttered the words "rude am I in my speech," in tones as _soft as +feathered snow that melted as they fell_, we could by no means allow the +sound an echo to the sense." + +To these extracts we will add one from the life of the celebrated John +Palmer, already mentioned, in the Thespian dictionary. + +"The following summer he (Palmer) was engaged at the Haymarket, when Mr. +Barry was also engaged. The part of Iago was given to Mr. Palmer to +study, but at rehearsal he was so awed at the presence of Mr. Barry, +that in spite of all that gentleman's encouragement, he could not subdue +his terrors, and was obliged to resign his part to Mr. Lee." + +Yet there was a suavity and familiar frankness in his manner, +particularly if he had a point of interest or pleasure to carry, which +won young and old--man and woman. A British merchant having occasion to +go to Dublin when Barry and Mossop headed the rival theatres, was +commissioned to collect some debts, and among others two owing by those +celebrated men. When he returned to London his constituent asked him, +"Well, have you got the actors to pay you?" "Mossop has paid," he +replied, "Barry, not." "How comes that?" "To tell you the truth," +answered our merchant, "I called on Mr. Barry several times, but he +delighted me so much with his talk, and his kindness, that I swear, I +could not ask him for money, or do anything to hurt his feelings. When I +went from him to Mossop, he looked so stern, that I was overawed and +cowed, and so told him, that as I wished to _oblige_ him, I would let +the matter lie over; and what do you think was his answer? In a voice +that made me tremble, he said, disdainfully, "_You_ oblige ME, sir!--and +pray sir, who are _you_ that presume to offer to oblige me?--call +tomorrow, sir, on my treasurer, and the pelf shall be paid to you, sir." +And as I went down stairs I could hear him say to himself several times, +"Oblige ME indeed, ha, ha, hah!--_you_ oblige ME!!" In a word I got the +money from him, but never saw him after." "You saw Barry, though?" "Oh +yes, he gave me a general order to the house, introduced me to Mrs. +Barry,--and always smiled and spoke so kindly, squeezed my hand too +whenever I saw him, that I never thought of money. It dont signify +talking, but I verily believe, that he could wheedle the birds off the +trees with that sweet voice of his, and his good-natured look. I would +rather be put off by Barry, than paid by Mossop." In this simple +anecdote, which is a fact, the private characters of Barry and Mossop +are clearly and faithfully illustrated. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[C] Our readers will partly judge what the powers of that roan must have +been, who could beguile an erudite critic into such an enthusiastic, +rapturous expression of approbation. + +[D] The late John Palmer had one of the finest persons and faces in +Great Britain. I remember to have seen him, handsome Brereton, and manly +F. Aitkin, when in the prime of life on the stage at the same time with +Barry, when he was labouring under old age, and so miserably infirm that +he walked with difficulty. Yet neither I nor any one of the spectators +ever noticed the others, so lost were they to the sight under the +towering superiority of Barry. _Editor._ + + + + +MISCELLANY. + + +THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS, +OR +SHAKSPEARE AS HE SHOULD BE. + +NO. III. + +_Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, continued._ + + +Marcellus invokes the ghost almost in the words of Charon, who, too +charitable to suffer a man to go to the devil in his own way, thus +addressed the son of Anchises: + + Quisquis es armatus qui nostra ad flumina tendis, + Fare age venias: jam isthinc et comprime gressum. + +The sybil in Virgil gives a civil answer to a civil question, and +narrates the birth, parentage, and education of her protege. Not so "the +buried majesty of Denmark." Disdaining to be tried by any but his peers, +he withholds all parlance till he commences with his son, and having +entered O. P. (signifying "O Patience," to the inquisitive spectator) +makes his exit P. S. (signifying poor spirit). Marcellus, hereupon, +moralizes after the following fashion: + + _Mar._ Thus twice before, and _jump_ at this _dead_ hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + +Why this dead hour? hours never die. In Ovid they are employed as grooms +in harnessing Apollo's steeds, and if there be any faith in _tempus +fugit_, how can the dead fly? to be sure, Marcellus was a sentinel, +whose duty it is to kill time: but I prefer _dread_ hour! Now for +jump--Mr. Malone says, that in Shakspeare's time, jump and just were +synonimous terms. So they are in our time. Two men of sympathetic +sentiments are said to jump in a judgment. We have also a sect of just +men in Wales called jumpers. Strange that the same motion that carries a +man to heaven should carry a Kangaroo to Botany Bay! + + ----multi + Committunt eadem diverso crimina fato + Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hic diadema.--_Juv._ + +I do not think that the modern actors who personate the ghost, pay a +proper attention to the text. It is evident from the above passage, that +the ghost in crossing between the speakers and the audience, should give +a jump, taking special care to avoid both traps and lamps, otherwise he +may "fast in fires," a little too fast. "Gone by our watch," should be +divided thus, "Gone--by our watch;" meaning at this hour, as we compute +the time. Marcellus should here pull out his watch. A man will never +make an actor unless he is particular in these little matters. Horatio +continues thus: + + _Hor._ But in the _gross_ and _scope_ of mine opinion, + This bodes some strange _eruption_ to our state. + +Johnson will have it that "gross and scope," mean general thoughts and +tendency at large. Alas! that all the scope of his gross frame should +contain so small a meaning! I prefer _guess_ and skip of my opinion; +that is a random notion hastily entertained. + +As for the eruption in the state, the reader will bear in mind the jump +of the ghost, and coupling it with the aforesaid eruption, will no +longer wonder that a modern writer couples the word jump with the Norman +invasion: + + Hop, step, and jump, + Here they came plump, + And they kick'd up a dust in the island. + +O'Keefe has a character in his farce of _The Farmer_, called Jemmy +Jumps, but I cannot with all my diligence, discover that he takes his +name from a love of jumping. Molly Maybush, indeed, gives us a hint of +his fondness for that recreation in the following distich: + + Go hop my pretty pet along, + And down the dance lead Bet along. + +But if his own evidence is to be believed, (and according to some recent +suggestions, that is the only evidence which ought to be received) he +has no penchant for it. The farmer asks him to join the village dance, +whereupon he indignantly exclaims, "What! I sport a toe among such a set +of rustics!" Upon the whole I am inclined to believe that as a +manufacturer of stays he takes his name from a part of those modish +ligatures called jumps. + +A figure of the very first water and magnitude, now makes his +_entre_--the ghost of the late king! and here I must digress awhile, and +like a raw notary's clerk, enter my feeble protest against the tame and +unimpressive manner in which that supernatural personage is permitted to +make his appearance. It should seem that our managers reserve all their +decorations for the inexplicable dumb show of the Wood Daemon (that +diphthong is my delight), the Castle Spectre, &c. &c. The Bleeding Nun +in Raymond and Agnes is ushered in with a pre-_scent_-iment of blue +flame and brimstone. Angela's mother advances in a minuet step, to soft +music, like Goldsmith's bear, and is absolutely enveloped in +flames--none but a salamander, or Messrs. Shadrach and company can enact +the part with safety. But when we are presented with a dead Hamlet, +Banquo, or lady Anne, those impressive non-naturals of the poet of +Nature, they walk in as quiet and unadorned as at a morning rehearsal; +marching like a vender of clumsy Italian images, "with all their +imperfections on their head," and an additional load attributable to the +imperfect head of the manager. Remember the lines of the poet: + + Another Eschylus appears--prepare + For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair, + In flame like Semele be brought to bed, + Whilst opening hell spouts wildfire at your head. + +And let us in future see Shakspeare's ghosts adorned with the proper +paraphernalia and (impernalia) of thunder, hautboys, and brimstone. But +to return--For "eruption to our state;" some people prefer reading +corruption, alleging that most states are corrupt (England, as one of +the present company, of course excepted) but that eruptions are confined +to the towns that border on Mount Vesuvius. But surely, allowing the +observation its full swing, eruption is here the right reading. The +ghost, in a subsequent scene, expressly informs us that he is "confined +to fast in fires," and from his underground repetition of the word +"swear," it is clear that those fires were immediately under Hamlet's +feet. Yes, sir, this identical ghost was the Guy Faukes of Denmark, and +but for the vent he discovered in a cranny near Elsinore enabling him to +take a peep at the "glimpses of the moon," would doubtless have blown +the crown prince, and all his court into the air, and thus have rendered +unnecessary our late expedition for that purpose. + +I find nothing upon which to animadvert till the re-entry of the ghost. +He has evidently something upon his mind, which he wishes to +communicate; but with the heart of a lion shows that he also possesses +the fears of that royal beast, for upon the crowing of the cock (a sound +most injudiciously omitted, since the death of the bantam Roscius) the +spirit evaporates as quickly as from a glass of champagne, in the +drinking of a health. + + _Mar._ Shall I strike at it with my _partisan_? + +Here performers, who move like blind asses in the manager's mill, +usually raise the right arm, as though partisan meant the instrument in +their grasp. O lame and impotent! As if a little bit of a truncheon +could bruise a ghost! What says Ossian, speaking of a ghost? "The dim +stars twinkled through his form." A plain proof of his want of +substance. So of Pope's sylph: + + Fate urg'd the shears and cut the sylph in twain; + But airy substance soon unites again. + +Some fanciful persons will have it that partisan signifies companion, as +though Marcellus should say, "shall I strike at it with the assistance +of Bernardo?" Listen to the real original meaning: + + _Mar._ Shall I strike at it with my _parmesan_? + +In plain English, "shall I throw a cheese at its head?" This agrees with +what was before advanced relative to beef, and shows that the sentinels +of those days antedating the couplet in the Bath Guide, + + He that would fortify the mind, + The belly first must fill,-- + +never mounted guard without a havresack well stuffed with eatables. + + * * * * * + +_Coffee and Chocolate._ + +Coffee is the seed of a tree or shrub of the jessamine species, +originally a native of Arabia, but now thriving in the West Indies, +where it is become an important article of English commerce. + +The flower is yellow, and the berry juicy, containing two seeds: these +when gathered have a ferinaceous bitter taste, but are wholly without +that peculiar smell and flavour imparted to them by fire, and for which +an infusion or decoction of them is so much admired. + +This fashionable beverage, almost a necessary of life to the merchant, +the politician, and the author, on its first introduction in Asia, +caused a violent religious schism among the Mahometan doctors, almost as +early as the thirteenth century, although it was not till towards the +middle of the sixteenth, that a coffee-house properly so called, was +established at Constantinople: its discovery was announced by a +miraculous legend which each sect relates in its own way. + +A dervise, says a certain heterodox rational mussulman, if such there +be, "a dervise overflowing with zeal or with bile, was sorely troubled +on observing that his brethren were not animated by a spirit active as +his own: he saw, with concern, that they were listless and drowsy in the +performance of their religious exercises, their ecstasies, their +howlings, their whirlings round, their vertigoes, their bellowings, and +laborious breathings. + +"The dissatisfied dervise, taking a solitary walk to sooth his disturbed +spirits, or cool his heated imagination, observed that the cattle became +suddenly and remarkably playsome and lively, after feeding on a certain +leaf; judging, by analogy, that the same effect might be produced on +_other animals_, he gave his companions a strong infusion of it; their +heaviness and torpor were almost instantly removed, and they performed +the parts allotted to them with exemplary activity and vigour; the leaf +so powerful in its effects proved to be the shrub from which coffee +berries afterwards were gathered." + +"Listen not to such profane heresies," says an orthodox doctor of Mecca, +"it was in the six hundred and sixty-sixth year of the Hegira (about the +middle of the thirteenth century of the Christian era) that Abouhasan +Scazali, on a pilgrimage to the tomb of our most holy prophet, sinking +under fatigue, extreme heat, and old age, called unto him Omar, a +venerable Scheick, his friend and companion, and thus addressed him: + +"Teacher of the faithful! the angel of death hath laid his hand upon me; +cleansed from my corruptions in the waters of Paradise, I hope soon to +be in the presence of our prophet; but I cannot depart in peace, till I +have done justice to thy zeal, thy faith, and thy friendship; persevere +in the path thou hast so long trod, and rely on him, who drove the +infidels like sheep before him, to extricate thee from all thy +difficulties: farewell, sometimes think of Abouhasan, pity his errors, +and do justice to his good name:" he would have spoken further, but his +breath failed, his eyes became dim, and pressing that hand he was to +press no more, he expired without a groan. + +"Having performed the last office of friendship, Omar pursued his way: +but, a few days after, lost in devout contemplation, or overwhelmed with +sorrow, he wandered from his associates in the caravan, and was not +sensible of his situation, till involved in one of those whirlwinds, +which, raising into the air the sandy soil of that country, generally +prove destructive. Falling on his face, the fury of the blast, and the +thick cloud of sand passed over him: almost suffocated with dust, +notwithstanding the precaution he had taken, separated from the +companions of his journey, without water to moisten his parched mouth, +and fainting for want of sustenance, he gave himself up for a lost man, +the stream of life was propelled with difficulty, perception and +sensation began to fail, and believing himself in the agonies of death, +he poured forth a mental ejaculation to Allah. + +"An angel of light immediately stood before him, waving his hand thrice +towards the holy city, and pronouncing deliberately three mysterious +words; a limpid stream suddenly gushed from the ground, and a luxuriant +shrub sprung forth from the barren sand of the desert; bathing the +temples, the eyes, and the lips of Omar, with the refreshing fluid, the +celestial messenger disappeared. + +"The cool stream, and the berries plucked from the miraculous tree, soon +recovered the sinking man; he poured forth his soul in thanksgiving, and +sunk into a deep sleep, from which he awoke in full vigour and spirits. + +"Omar, with renewed strength, soon rejoined the caravan, and relating +the supernatural circumstance, a mosque was erected on the spot, by the +zeal and contributions of true believers; coffee, that wonderful shrub, +the peculiar gift of our prophet, and more particularly the produce of +his favourite country, still continues the solace, cordial, and +comforter of his devoted followers." + +This singular specimen of Turkish superstition, in which the Mahometan +appears to have encroached on the prerogatives of the Vatican, is taken +from a curious book, which, previous to the Gallic revolution, was in +the library of the king of France, and presented to Louis the fifteenth, +by Said, an ambassador from the Porte to the court of Versailles. + +It is called in the title page, Dgihan Numa, that is, a description of +the world, and was printed at Constantinople, in seventeen hundred and +thirty-one, adorned with plates and illustrated by maps; the author, or +rather the compiler, was Keatib Cheleli, a learned doctor of the Turkish +law. + +"Coffee," says this enlightened mussulman, who shaking off the stupidity +and indolence of his countrymen, assumes the character of a medical +inquirer, after he had quitted that of an implicit believer, "coffee is +a rejoicer of the heart, an enlivener of conversation, a sovereign +restorative after the fatigues of study, of labour or of love; its +peculiar characteristic is, to comfort the stomach, nourish the nerves, +and to protect the frame against the debilitating effects of a hot +climate and a fiery atmosphere. + +"Taken an hour after dinner, it prevents an accumulation of crudities in +the first passages, is an infallible remedy for the horrors of +indigestion, and the megrims." + +It was not probable that so wholesome and agreeable an article of diet +would be long confined to Asia; it is said to have been introduced to +the fashionable circles of Paris by Thevenot, in 1669, but had been made +use of in London as an exotic luxury before that time. + +The first coffee-house opened in the British metropolis, was in +George-yard, Lombard-street, by Rosqua, the Greek servant of a Turkey +merchant, in the year 1652; its flavour was considered so delicate, and +it was thought by the statesmen of those days (no very reputable +characters) to promote society and political conversation so much, that +a duty of fourpence was laid on every gallon made and sold. + +But Anthony Wood earnestly insists, that there was a house, for selling +coffee, at Oxford, two years before Rosqua commenced the trade in +London; "that those who delighted in novelty, drank it at the sign of +the angel, in that university, a house kept by an outlandish Jew." + +In another part of his works, he says that Nathaniel Conapius, a native +of Crete, and a fugitive from Constantinople, but residing in the year +1648, at Baliol college, Oxford, made, and drank every morning, a drink +called coffey, the first ever made use of in that ancient university. + +This popular beverage is mentioned in a tract published by judge Rumsey, +in 1659, entitled "Organum Salutis, or an instrument to cleanse the +stomach; together with divers new experiments on the virtues of tobacco +and coffee." + +It is observed in this work, by a correspondent of the author, "that +apprentices, clerks and others, formerly used to take their morning +draught in ale, beer or wine, which, by the dizziness they cause in the +brain, make many unfit for business; but that now they may safely play +the good fellow, in this wakeful civil drink, for the introduction of +which first in London the respect of the whole nation is due to Mr. +Muddiford." + + * * * * * + +Chocolate, then, is a preparation from the seeds of a small American +tree, called by botanists _Cacao Guatimalensis_, bearing a large red +fruit in the shape of a cucumber, which generally contains twenty or +thirty of the nuts, boiled and prepared according to art. + +This highly nutritious, agreeable, and, to many, wholesome drink, became +on its first introduction, a subject of strong agitation, and warm +contest, with many conscientious and scrupulous catholics. + +Approaching in its original form, and in its alimentary properties, so +nearly to solid diet, it was doubted by the timid and the devout, +whether enjoying so delicious and invigorating a luxury in Lent, and +other seasons appointed by the church for fasts, was not violating or +eluding a sacred and indispensable ordinance. + +That party which was unwilling to resign their chocolate, quoted the +words of St. Thomas, who repeatedly asserts, that it is by solid food +only that a fast can be properly said to be broken; that if it is +unlawful to drink this liquor on fast days, because of the portion of +solid cocoa contained in it; by the same rule, wine and beer, which on +these occasions have never been interdicted, might be forbidden, as the +first contains a large proportion of the saccharine substance of the +grape, and the latter suspends rather than dissolves the whole of the +farina of the grain. + +The chocolate drinkers were opposed by a powerful party of rigid +disciplinarians, and austere devotees; a Spanish physician wrote a Latin +treatise, expressly against what appeared to him so impious a practice +on a fast day; his book, entitled "Tribunal Medico-Magicum," exhibits +much zeal and some learning; that he was strongly attached to the luxury +against which he declaims, is a strong presumption in favour of his +sincerity. + +The Spaniard's book was answered, by a cardinal of the catholic church +in a candid and agreeable way; it was the opinion of the ecclesiastic, +supported, indeed by reason and experience, that neither chocolate nor +wine taken in moderation could, strictly speaking, be construed into +breaking a fast; yet, he hoped, that such a concession, would not be +made a pretext by sensuality and wickedness, for using them to excess, +by which some of our greatest blessings are converted into curses; as +whatever tempts or occasions us to overstep the bounds of nature and of +temperance, can never be defended by the canons of the church. + +The Roman prelate concludes his rational and truly pious book, written +in Latin, not unworthy of the Augustan age, with the following words, +which ought to be written in letters of gold, in some conspicuous part +of every eating-room in Europe: + +"The infidel and voluptuary may ridicule the idea of the Almighty +Creator of the universe, being pleased, or displeased, with a man for +having a full or an empty stomach; but whatever tends directly or +remotely, to subdue rebellious passions, and subject a creature like man +to the restraints of reason and religion, cannot fail being a matter of +the highest importance to our well-doing, and our everlasting destiny +hereafter." + + * * * * * + +MONUMENT IN HONOUR +OF THE +LATE DUKE OF BEDFORD. + +ERECTED IN RUSSELL SQUARE, BY R. WESTMACOTT, ASSOCIATE +OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. + +This monument consists principally of a colossal statue of the late Duke +of Bedford, habited in his parliamentary robes. At the feet of his +statue, or rather around the fragment of rock on which it stands, are +"the seasons personified by genii, or children in playful attitudes." + +"This group surmounts a pedestal composed of granite; the sides of which +are embellished by _bassi-relievi_ of pastoral subjects. On the angles +are bulls heads; the intermediate friezes being occupied by +_bassi-relievi_ of groups of cattle. The whole composition is about +twenty-five feet in height." + +The latter part of this general description, which we have marked as +quotation, is taken from Mr. Westmacott's own modest account of his +work, in the 'Academic Annals.' + +The whole forms an imposing, and, in some degree, magnificent pile of +sculpture, and seems the worthy ornament of a great metropolis; yet it +has such defects as inform us that it has not fallen from Heaven. The +statue is doubtless meant to be stable, manly, easy, and dignified; yet +it is not perfectly these, though perhaps no other words could be so +nearly used with propriety in describing its first bold impression on +the mind of the beholder, as he approaches from Bloomsbury square along +Bedford-place. + +A noble and sedate simplicity characterizes the general style of Mr. +Westmacott's sculpture, and is conspicuous in the _tout ensemble_ of the +pile before us. The proportions of the statue and its ornamental +accompaniments, to the pedestal and double plinth basement, are well +regulated, and are the evident and successful result of study. The +bronze, of which the statue and bas-reliefs are composed, being covered +with a fine green patina (which has apparently been superinduced), would +have assimilated very well with the sort of grave, negative colour of +the Scotch granite, of which the pedestal is formed, had the rock on +which the Duke stands been of bronze, as well as the statue and +personifications of the seasons which are designed to group with it. +This rock ought certainly not to have been of Scotch granite. The +pedestal alone should have been of this material, and all that surmounts +it of bronze. Beside that real rock is almost as unscientific in this +place, as would have been the real ermine on the Duke of Bedford's +robes, or a real wig on his head; it is almost as destructive too of the +chastity of sculpturesque effect. It gives a meager effect to the +seasons, while it mars the simplicity of what would else have appeared a +grand connected mass of imitative art. The granite and green bronze, if +kept in broad and distinct masses, would have harmonized extremely well +with the verdure of the pleasure ground in which it is placed; yet, as +it is, the whole composition, when viewed from any station near the +south end of Bedford-place, detaches with effect from the air-tint of +the distant country, excites a classic and elevated feeling, and invites +the steps of the tasteful to a nearer view. + +The figure of the Duke, in allusion, presumptively, to the firmness of +his character, stands on a rock, with his right foot somewhat advanced. +His right hand is also advanced, and rests on the shaft of the plough, +while his left arm, which is somewhat too short for the figure, hangs +perpendicularly, forming a line exactly parallel to the outline of the +drapery on this left side of the statue. One side of the figure is thus +perfectly tranquil, while the other is in gentle action. What the +sculptor may conceive he has gained in effect, by _thus_ contrasting one +side of his statue to the other, he appears to us to have lost, in +losing that more easy contrast and graceful equilibrium which +distinguishes the best single figures of the ancients, and which should +not, we think, be absent from those of the moderns. If, however, +grandeur by these means be substituted for gracefulness, art and the +public are amply compensated, and the sculptor should be honoured for a +successful deviation from ancient authority and established principle. +We are only sorry to add, that in our opinion it is not. + +The features of the Duke's face are very judiciously generalised, or +_idealised_ (as is the phrase among artists) to that degree which raises +the mental character of the head, and while it retains all those +peculiarities which are essential to portraiture, renders an individual +countenance more fit for the purpose of the sculptor, and perhaps +impresses a likeness more forcibly than minute finishing, especially at +a height of eighteen or twenty feet from the eye of the spectator. The +neck is increased in thickness, so as to give an Herculean air and +character to the bust: which yet, on the whole, so strongly resembles +that of the original, that it is immediately recognised by all who +remember the Duke of Bedford's person. + +Of the drapery, the general style is broad, square, and masterly. The +peculiarities of the English ducal robes are sufficiently attended to, +and sufficiently simplified; but the ermined part we esteem unfortunate +(as much of it at least as is seen in the front view of the figure) as +it disturbs the contour of the folds, and has a clumsy and +unsculpturesque appearance. + +Proceeding downward in our remarks, we now arrive at Mr. Westmacott's +personification of the seasons, where we find he has departed in some +measure from former analogies, without, in every instance, substituting +better. + +We have already remarked that these genii have a meager effect, and have +endeavoured to account for it by supposing it to be principally owing to +the ill-judged mixture of materials and colours, of which this part of +the pile consists. Yet beside this defect, in every view but that from +the westward, these figures appear to want grouping and connexion. +Seasons, which are blended in their real existence, should probably not +be disconnected, nor thrown out of their natural order, in their +allegorical representation. No man desires to see the backside of +Spring unless Summer follow; and had Summer and Autumn been visible from +the principal approach, an association of ideas would have been excited, +more genial and more appropriate to the agricultural character of the +monument, if not to the _known bounty_ of the late Duke of Bedford, than +by the presence of Winter and Spring. By placing the two former behind +his Grace, and turning one of them away from the eye of the spectator, +the sculptor has even left it so doubtful whether he has or has not +taken the liberty of changing the natural course of the seasons in order +to effect this, or some other purpose, that we have known some persons +mistake--unless we are ourselves mistaken--Summer for Autumn and Autumn +for Summer; and others puzzled between Summer and Spring. It is true, +the seasons in our climate, are sometimes so strangely disordered and +confused, that if Mr. Westmacott should plead that in this part of the +design, he has chosen rather to imitate nature than the antique, and +English nature rather than the nature of any other climate, we should +probably be silenced. + +It may also be pleaded with great truth in favour of the artist, that in +consequence of the arrangement which he has adopted, there is in every +view of the monument, something of merit and importance to gratify +public attention. In front, there is the statue itself contrasted by the +plainness and simplicity of the unadorned side of the pedestal. On the +east side there is the most beautiful of the bas-reliefs: on the west, +the most interesting view of the seasons, and what there is behind, God +knows. The public are not yet permitted to walk round it. + +We will now endeavour to explain the symbols and metaphors which Mr. +Westmacott has invented or adopted, as well as we are able, in the order +in which they present themselves on the monument. Spring is very +properly represented as rising a wreath of blossoms and other early +flowers, among which the lily is distinguishable; the genius of Autumn +is pouring forth her abundance of English fruits and vegetables (for +there is nothing exotic) from a cornucopia; Summer, as far as can be +seen from without the enclosed area of Russel-square, has a butterfly +perched on his hand, intimating that this is the season when this +beautiful insect bursts from its chrysales into new life; and Winter +sits shrunk and sheltered by drapery from inclemencies of which, to be +strictly correct, it should appear to have been the cause. + +The character and style of Mr. Westmacott's boys or genii, are something +between that of Fiamingo, and real life. Those of Summer and Autumn +especially, possess much of infantile grace; but the genius of Winter +appears disproportionably small, and the space left for his chest so +small, when compared with his limbs, that the Hibernian punsters will be +in some danger of thinking it is meant for a personification of--nobody. +What those may be tempted to think of it who are conversant with Dr. +Hunter's principal anatomical work, we shall not presume to say. + +The bulls heads on the angles have a new and not unpleasing effect, and +are executed in a grand style; their horns are short and bound for +sacrifice as in the antique. And the frieze which runs round the top of +the pedestal is enriched, the East side with two sheep, a lamb, and an +ox; the West side with two swine and a cow; and the South side, or front +of the monument with a horse, all sculptured in low relief, and in a +style partaking partly of the antique, and partly of English nature. +Immediately above this frieze on the south side, and in the interval +between Winter and Spring, the artist has placed a lamb, which is +perfectly in season. + +Of the bas-reliefs which adorn the sides of the pedestal, and which are +in conception and composition, if not of execution, the finest part of +the whole pile, one represents the season of _ploughing_, the other that +of _harvest_; and both are so classical in their appearance, and in +design so abstracted from localities, that could they have been +discovered in Sicily, the cognoscenti would, perhaps, have sworn that +Theocritus had seen and studied them when he wrote his Idyllia. + +As associated with, and calculated to call up, ideas of humble, innocent +and laudable occupation, these sculptured pastorals are of high moral +value in such a metropolis as this, where guilty dissimulation and +insidiousness so much abound--independent of their merit, and consequent +value as works of fine art. Why do we contemplate the innocent +occupations of children, and rural life, with sentiments of the purest +complacency? Why, but because the soul is revived as it recognises its +own nature through the disguise of society, and springs back with ardour +toward a state of things on which our ideas of Paradise itself have been +rested. + +Perhaps no works of art, and no poetry extant, will more forcibly recall +what we have read and fancied of the golden age, than these bas-reliefs. +They are delightful both in design and execution. To imagine the art as +co-existing with these in such an age of happy innocence as is here +suggested, raises cold criticism itself almost to rhapsody. + +In the first, which occupies the western side of the pedestal, peasants +are resting from the labour of the plough; a yoked ox shows the nature +of their employment; a ploughman takes a refreshing draught, from his +wooden bottle, while a youth blows a horn to call his fellow labourers +to an humble repast, which a female is busily engaged in preparing. + + ----Corydon and Thyrsis met, + Are at their savoury dinner set, + Of herbs, and other country messes, + Which the neat handed Phyllis dresses. + +In the other relievo, which decorates the eastern side of the pedestal, +reapers and other peasantry are conversing and reposing from the toils +of the field. The group consists of a mower, a reaper, a harvest man +stooping to bind a sheaf, a shepherd and his dog. The principal and +central figure is that of a young female laden with corn, and holding a +sickle in her right hand, and is a most exquisite, and, we had almost +said, unparalleled piece of sculpture in its kind. In truth, the +unsophisticated, self-willed, easy, rustic, grace, of this figure, is +raised by the art of the sculptor into intellectual existence-- + + Her form is fresher than the morning rose, + When the dew wets its leaves; a native grace + Sits fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, + Veil'd in a simple robe: + +and all the characters are simple; yet free from any alloy of grossness, +while the grouping and drawing are excellent in a very high degree. +Modern art, excepting it be in the principal figure of Barry's Grecian +Harvest-home, has produced nothing of the kind, which can be compared +with this reaper, or which is so perfectly the vigorous offspring of +Poetry and Sculpture, generated in their happiest moments. + +Mr. Westmacott has wisely chosen to display the most prominent and +distinguished trait of the Duke's character, and to that he has confined +himself. He has not frittered attention as a common-minded statuary +would have done, by endeavouring to make the subject of his chisel +appear to have been every thing that is great and good: he does not +compliment the Duke of Bedford, by surrounding him with various virtues, +and representing him as having been a great statesman, philosopher, +patron of art and literature, orator, agriculturist, &c. &c. but by +seizing the principal feature of his mental character, and representing +him simply as a great agriculturist, or patron of agriculture, he +powerfully impresses one important truth, which no spectator will +forget, and all who possess the means, may learn to emulate. + +The Duke of Bedford's agricultural, is probably the most permanent, as +well as honourable and prominent, feature of his character. In his +politics, like a large majority of statesmen, he attached himself too +much to persons, and attended too little to the ascertainment of +principles. As a politician, he might soon have been forgotten, or have +been remembered with little interest, while as an agriculturist, +posterity for many a century, may with pleasure view the seasons playing +round the foot of his statue. + +The statue is in fact as much a monument in honour of agriculture as of +the late Duke of Bedford; and, observing the public interest which this +excites, we cannot but think it would be well if our public ways were +adorned with statues to other noblemen and noble propensities. + +To agriculture, undoubtedly, in every country, _the first_ of arts, in +point of time, and perhaps of importance, the first honours may be +allowed; but we deem that a sufficient portion of the attention of our +nobility and great landed proprietors has already been attracted toward +this pursuit; and among the various arts and sciences, we should not +forget that though the _iron_ arts are more useful, the _golden_ are +more precious. A taste for _fine_ art, moreover, has a certain grace of +disinterestedness, which does not attach to an agricultural duke or +great landed proprietor, constantly employing himself in endeavours to +increase the produce of his lands. + +Wherefore, though the statue to agriculture and the late Duke of +Bedford, be extremely fit and proper in point of moral social influence, +it makes other statues or other moral works of art yet more necessary +than they were. Britain may boast of many a Cornelia, but where is the +monument to the maternal character? Many a Brutus and many a Maecenas, +but where are the public enticements to disinterested patriotism and the +patronage of art? + + * * * * * + +O! NEVER LET US MARRY. + + "We want no change, and least of all, + Such change as you would bring us."--_Pizarro._ + + +TO ROSA. + + If in possession passion die, + And when we marry love deny, + 'Tis rapture still to tarry: + If that soft breast must cease to warm, + Those speaking eyes no longer charm, + O never let us marry! + + If I shall hang not on thy lip, + Like bees on roses when they sip, + And thence less honey carry; + If I must cease to think it bliss + To breathe my soul in every kiss, + O never let us marry! + + * * * * * + +THE SABLE APPARITION, OR MYSTERIOUS BELL ROPE. + +_An extract from a Manuscript Novel._ + + +"'Twas nothing more, indeed my dear uncle! No, indeed, 'twas nothing +more! Dear, dear, how could I suppose it to be any thing more? And yet I +even tremble now," exclaimed Miss Godfrey to her astonished uncle, as he +entered the house. "For heaven's sake, my beloved Frances what has thus +dreadfully alarmed you?" returned the old gentleman. "Tell me I beseech +you! I'm on the rack till I know what could possibly have the power of +alarming you to this dreadful degree. Come my sweet girl, compose +yourself and relate to me this "soul harrowing" tale; for I'm half +inclined (seeing you smile) to suppose it some imaginary evil." It is +indeed, sir, an imaginary evil, and a very foolish fear: I am very, very +angry with myself, and am seriously apprehensive, that in disclosing to +you my weakness, I shall draw down your very just animadversion; but if +you will give me a patient hearing, and not think me too circumstantial +in my narrative, I will give you then the seeming cause for the disorder +in which you found me." Do not fear censure from me my dear Frances, we +all have our weak moments; and I am convinced, a girl with my Fanny's +understanding, could not be so alarmed at a very trifling circumstance; +therefore proceed, my love; I will promise not to fall asleep over the +recital." + +"Sitting in my dressing room at work, I was surprised by a very hasty +tap at the door, which I opened, when Monsieur l'Abbe appeared before +me, with his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his +whole frame so convulsed with terror, that I momentarily expected the +wax taper which he bore in his hand would make a somerset on my muslin +dress. I begged him to inform me if he was ill? whether any thing had +alarmed him? if I should ring for his servant? He shook his head in +token of disapprobation of my last interrogatory, and in broken and +almost inarticulate accents, begged I would indulge him with a moment's +hearing. He then, with much difficulty, addressed me as follows:---- + +"You know Miss Godfrey, I am the last man in the world to be frightened +at bugbears, or in other words, superstition and I were ever sworn +enemies: I think, then, after reprobating this weakness in others for +fifty years, I have this evening become its victim; for to that alone +must I ascribe my fears. Listen then to the cause of this weakness in +me. I was deeply immersed in Horace, when I heard a knocking against the +partition that separates the rooms. I paid little or no attention to it +at first, when a second time the knocks were repeated with more +violence. I then arose, and proceeded to the room where the noise +issued; and directing my eyes towards the bed, to my infinite surprise I +perceived the bell-rope making rapid and extensive strides from one side +of the partition to the other. After viewing it for a moment, I thought +I would take the liberty of stopping the marble breasted gentleman's +progress; I grasped the bell-rope, it yielded to my embrace, and became +quiescent; I sat a moment to observe it; it remained quiet, and I +returned to my studies. The instant I was seated, the same noise was +repeated with increased violence; I entered the room a second time, and +a second time saw the bell-rope in rapid motion. I then examined every +corner of the room, without discovering the least trace by which I might +elucidate this singular appearance. I again grasped the rope, and again +it was motionless: I sat two or three minutes in the room, I believe, +during which every thing was perfectly quiet. I returned to my room, +when scarcely had I seated myself, ere the same noise met my ear, with a +sort of hard breathing. This was more than even my philosophy could bear +at that moment, and must plead my excuse for appearing before you in the +disordered state which you have just witnessed." "You must pardon me, my +good sir, for smiling," I remarked, but I really have scarcely had +patience to hear you out, so anxious am I to be introduced to this ghost +in the shape of a bell-rope! lead me to the haunted room, and you will +gratify me beyond measure!" + +"Magnanimous courage! exclaimed Monsieur, with such a guide, I'd face +e'en Beelzebub himself;" when each embracing our taper, we proceeded to +the mysterious room. My eager eye sought the bell-rope; but no sooner +did I perceive its motion (for it was moving as Monsieur had described) +than all my boasted philosophy forsook me. Ashamed to confess as much, I +begged my companion to once more stop its progress, and suppressing my +emotions, I assisted Monsieur in searching the room. Nothing, however, +which possessed animation could we discover, (ourselves excepted) and +indeed we could scarcely be said to possess it. Monsieur prevailed on me +to retire to his sitting room, when perhaps, he observed, we should hear +the noise repeated. I acquiesced, when to my inexpressible horror our +ears were assailed by a tremendous knocking, accompanied by a terrific +scream. This was more than human nature could bear. I rang the bell with +unusual violence, which brought up two of the female servants. Without +communicating my fears, I requested that the groom might be called: he +came, and thus, in a body we once more ventured to enter this terror +striking room, every corner of which was searched without success; when +the groom accidentally moving the bed, out sprung our--black cat! She +had so completely concealed herself in the head curtain of the bed, that +all our endeavours to discover anything were fruitless; and each time we +left the room, she amused herself with patting the pull of the bell, +which occasioned its motion to the infinite terror of a French +philosopher, and an heroic maiden. + +"The 'terrific scream,' was a faint groan, proceeding from a servant who +was ill in the house." + + + + +COMMUNICATIONS. + + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE DRAMATIC MISCELLANY. + +Sir, + +I send you herewith the first number of a series of Papers, the +continuance of which will probably depend upon your opinion of their +tendency to amuse or gratify your readers. + +That they may not be tried by too rigid rules of criticism--and that +more may not be expected from the writer than he means to perform, I +deem it necessary to premise that the future numbers, like the present, +are intended to consist of such anecdotes respecting the drama and +dramatic writers, as I have heretofore, or hereafter may meet with in +the course of a very desultory course of reading--of such information of +that description, as I have collected in my progress through life--and +of such remarks and reflections as they may excite in my mind. + + With sincere wishes for the success of your undertaking, I am, + Yours, &c. + DRAMATICUS. + + +_Every One has his Fault._ + +Among the best dramatic performances that have appeared during the last +half of the eighteenth century, I have no hesitation in giving this +admirable comedy, by Mrs. Inchbald, a conspicuous place. For strongly +marked characters, interesting incidents, correct sentiments, and chaste +language, I know none to be preferred to it. It appeared here, at the +opening of the New Theatre in 1793, under as much advantage, as if the +authoress had actually studied the force of the company, and written the +parts for the respective performers. I was somewhat dissatisfied at +first with one particular character, lord Norland. I thought it hardly +possible such a being could have been drawn from nature. A further view +of mankind, has convinced me that I was in error. I annex the dramatis +personae, and leave the reader to judge whether a higher dramatic feast +can probably be found at Covent Garden or Drury Lane. + + Lord Norland, Mr. Whitlock, + Capt. Irwin, Mr. Fennel, + Sir Robert Ramble, Mr. Chalmers, + Mr. Placid, Mr. Moreton, + Harmony, Mr. Bates, + Solus, Mr. Morris, + Edward, Mrs. Marshal. + Lady Erwin, Mrs. Whitlock, + Mrs. Placid, Mrs. Shaw, + Miss Woburn, Mrs. Morris, + Miss Spinster, Mrs. Bates. + +It may be heresy and schism to institute the most distant comparison +between any modern writer and Shakspeare. But if so, I cannot help being +a heretic and schismatic, for I believe that the scene between lord +Norland, lady Irwin, and Edward, in which the latter abandons his +grandfather, and flies into the arms of his mother, then newly +discovered to him, is actually equal, for pathos and interest, to any +scene ever represented in the English or any other language. Mrs. +Inchbald, it is said, intended this drama for a tragedy, and made +captain Irwin suffer death: but by the advice of her friends converted +it into a comedy. + + +_Prostitution of the Theatre._ + +Those who do not look beyond the mere surface of things, are prone to +censure managers with great severity, when Theatres, which ought to be +held sacred for exhibiting the grandest effusions of the human mind, are +prostituted to puppet-shows, rope dancing, pantomimes and exhibitions of +elephants, &c. Whatever of censure is due to this preposterous +perversion, attaches elsewhere. It falls on those who frequent theatres. +Dr. Johnson, in a prologue which he wrote for Garrick, places this idea +in the strongest point of light. + + "Ah! let not censure term our fate our choice: + The stage but echoes back the public voice. + The drama's laws the drama's patrons give: + For _those who live to please, must please to live_." + +And therefore if Romeo and Juliet, the Clandestine Marriage, the West +Indian, the Gamester, Every one has his fault, and other dramatic works +of this order, fail to afford attractions equal to Mother Goose, +Cinderilla, the Forty thieves, an elephant, or a band of Indians, can it +be a subject of surprise if the managers furnish those bills of fare, +which possess the greatest gratification for that public on whom they +depend? + + +_Samuel Foote._ + +It is an old and trite maxim that ridicule is by no means a test of +truth--and yet it is an equally ancient remark, that many a serious +truth has been put out of countenance by ridicule, and that ridicule +unsupported by wit or humour. + +In a song sung by Mrs. Cibber, there was this line-- + + "The roses will bloom when there's peace in the breast." + +Of the justice of which no man can entertain a doubt. The wicked wit +Foote parodied the line, thus + + "The turtles will coo when there's pease in their craws," + +And actually destroyed the popularity of the song. + + +_A spirited manager._ + +The latter part of the following interesting anecdote of Garrick is +unaccountably omitted in his life, by his biographer, Arthur Murphy. + +In the year 1755, the English Roscius expended large sums of money in +preparing what he termed a Chinese Festival, a grand spectacle, on a +most magnificent scale. He imported a large number of Swiss and Italians +to appear in it, which excited considerable jealousy among the London +populace, as a French war had then begun, and all foreigners were +indiscriminately regarded as Frenchmen. There was considerable +opposition made the first and second nights of its being exhibited--and +the 3d night, November 18, there was a large party formed, who were +determined to have it suppressed. Violent riots took place--"the rioters +tore up the benches, broke the lustres, threw down the partitions of the +boxes, and mounting the stage, demolished the Chinese scenery." The +injury sustained by the manager was very considerable, and required +several days, and a very large sum of money to repair. + +Some nights after, Garrick appeared on the stage in the character of +Archer, and was imperiously and unjustly called upon to beg pardon of +the audience. At this, his indignation was enkindled, and he advanced +resolutely forward, stating the injury his property had sustained, and +assuring them that "he was above want, superior to insult, and unless he +was that night permitted to perform his duty to the best of his +abilities, he would never--never appear upon the stage again." The +audience were struck with the justice and propriety of what he +said--felt ashamed of the vile scenes that had taken place, and of the +indignity that had been offered to an old, a tried, and a deserving +favourite; and by an instantaneous burst of applause, bore a strong +testimony against the rioters and in favour of the respectable manager. + + +_Moody._ + +The preceding anecdote leads me to give another of the same description, +respecting Moody, a very valuable performer, one of Garrick's company. + +In the beginning of the year 1763, very considerable riots took place in +Drury-Lane, in consequence of an effort on the part of Garrick to +abolish a shabby practice that had prevailed in London from time +immemorial. This was, to admit persons into the theatre after the third +act, at half price. Great devastation was committed on every thing that +could be destroyed in the theatre. A wicked villain took a light, and +was deliberately setting fire to the scenes, which might have caused the +death of a portion of the misguided agents in this disgraceful outrage. +Moody fortunately perceived him, resolutely interposed, and prevented +the perpetration of his nefarious design. The next night that he +appeared, he was instantly called upon to beg pardon, for an act +which merited the highest gratitude. Moody addressed the +audience--"Gentlemen, if by hindering the house from being burned, and +saving many of your lives, I have given you cause of displeasure, I ask +your pardon." This exasperated them still further, and there was an +universal outcry that he should beg pardon on his knees. Moody had too +much spirit, and too high a sense of his own dignity, to comply--and +resolutely addressed them once more--"Gentlemen, I will not degrade +myself so low, even in your opinion. By such an act, I should be an +abject wretch, unfit ever to appear before you again." This said, and +having made his bow, he retired. Garrick "received him with open arms," +and applauded him for his spirited conduct. The riot still continued, +and the manager being called for, he went before the audience, and a +loud clamour having been made to dismiss Moody for what was unjustly +styled his insolence, Garrick assured them that he should not perform on +that stage while he remained under their displeasure. He then went +behind the scenes; and, once more embracing Moody, pledged himself to +pay his salary, notwithstanding his temporary exile. + + +_Theatrical Licenses._ + +Although it is generally known that no new dramatic performance can be +introduced on the stage in England, without the previous license of the +Lord Chamberlain, it is not by any means equally well known to what +cause this regulation owes its origin. Henry Fielding composed a +theatrical representation to which he gave the name of Pasquin, the +object of which was to satirize some of the most conspicuous characters +in England, and among the number were the minister and many of his +friends. This satirical performance became very popular, and was +exhibited to crowded audiences for fifty successive nights. The +exasperated minister, Robert Walpole, was determined to repress the +licentiousness of the stage, and accordingly had a bill brought into +parliament to prohibit the representation of any dramatic performance +whatever, unless it had received the permission of the Lord chamberlain. +This act, which was carried in spite of the utmost opposition, took +from the crown the power of licensing any more theatres, and inflicted +considerable penalties on those who should violate its restrictions.[E] + + +_Mrs. Centlivre. The Busy Body._ + +The theatrical history affords numberless instances of the fallacy and +folly of dogmatic decisions, and premature judgments. It were endless to +relate the cases of dramatic performances, which, previous to their +being acted, were regarded by managers and actors as execrable, and +certain of condemnation--and yet have lived a century beyond the +existence of their judges. And the instances are at least as numerous of +managers forming the most flattering anticipations of the success, and +the consequent emoluments of performances which were, to use the +technical term of the theatre, damned by the unanimous consent of the +audience. + +The Busy Body, by Mrs. Centlivre, is a very remarkable case in point. It +was decried before its appearance by all the players--Mr. Wilkes, the +Garrick of his day, for a time absolutely refused to take a part in +it--And the audience went to the theatre, so far prejudiced against it, +as to contemplate its condemnation. Yet it was so favourably received, +that it had a run of thirteen nights; and, after a lapse of an entire +century, for it was first represented in 1709, it is still received with +applause, and ranks deservedly high among the stock plays. + + +_Gay.----Beggar's opera._ + +There is a still more striking illustration of the position I laid down +in the preceding paragraph, than that afforded by the Busy Body. The +Beggar's opera was offered to Cibber and the other managers of Drurylane +theatre, and after examination was rejected by them, as not likely to +prove successful. The managers of the other theatre had a more correct +anticipation of the issue of this production, and hailed it with joy +and gladness. The event justified their opinion--for never was there a +more extraordinary degree of success than attended this rejected +performance. It had the unprecedented run of fifty three nights, I +believe successively, the first season in London--It spread into every +town in the three kingdoms, where there was a theatre, and was every +where received with unbounded applause. The songs were printed on +ladies' fans--and Miss Fenton, who performed the part of Polly, and who, +previous to her appearance in that character was in an inferior grade, +became a first rate favourite, and was so high in the public opinion, +that she was finally married to a peer of the realm. Gay's profits by +this piece were above two thousand pounds sterling, or nearly nine +thousand dollars.[F] + + +_A Wine merchant._ + +Garrick, soon after his arrival in London, went into partnership with +his brother Peter, in the wine trade. Their circumstances were very +moderate. Foote, with whom it was a universal rule, never to spoil a +good story by a scrupulous adherence to truth; very often, at a +subsequent period, excited merriment at the expense of the modern +Roscius, by the narrative of his adventures at that era of his life. He +used to amuse his companions by telling them, that he remembered the +time when little Davy lived in Durham court, with three quarts of +_vinegar_ in his cellar, and took upon himself the style and title of a +wine merchant. + + +_Garrick once more._ + +It is mortifying to reflect how the fairest fame may be destroyed, and +the best character be travestied in the public estimation, by a jest, a +bon mot, or an epigram, which contains any very pointed allusion. The +story tells to advantage. It is no diminution of its chance of progress, +that it is in the very last degree void of even the shadow of +foundation. Its wit, its humour, or its malignity embalms it, and saves +it from destruction. It enlivens social circles--It spreads abroad, and +gathers strength as it goes: It is received as complete evidence almost +as if it had been judicially established. + +These ideas are excited by the excellent and revered character, whose +name I have prefixed to this sketch. Of his avarice Foote circulated +some droll stories, which have had considerable currency, and found +their way into most of the jest books that have been published for these +thirty years. And it has been in consequence pretty generally believed +that Garrick was a miserable, narrow-souled creature, whom the _auri +sacra fames_ would lead to any kind of meanness, and who was incapable +of a liberal or munificent action. Of him I acknowledge I had formed +this opinion: and such has been the opinion of most of my acquaintances. +It gives me great pleasure to find that the charge is totally +groundless; and that few men ever made a better use of their +wealth--none were more ready with their purse on every occasion where +distress or misfortune petitioned for assistance, or when any public +spirited undertaking had a fair claim upon private liberality. + +Malone's sketch of his life, and Boswell's life of Johnson, contain +numberless illustrious instances of his beneficence. Johnson, who was +much in the habit of collecting money among his friends for the relief +of persons in distress or embarrassment, repeatedly declared, that +Garrick was always ready on these occasions, and that his contributions +exceeded those of other persons in equal circumstances. + +Garrick's liberality in the establishment of the fund for the relief of +superannuated actors, would alone be sufficient to rescue him from the +charge of avarice. He gave a benefit play yearly for that purpose, in +which he always acted a leading character. He bestowed on the +association two houses for the meetings of the managers;--and when the +latter resolved to sell them, as unnecessary, Garrick bought them at the +valuation which was set upon them. He afterwards bequeathed them by his +will to the increase of the fund. + + +_As it was damned._ + +One of Henry Fielding's farces having been hissed from the stage, the +author, when he published it, instead of the usual annunciation, "as it +was performed at the theatre royal," &c. substituted a more correct +reading, "_as it was damned_ at the theatre royal, Drury Lane." This +laudable example of candor has never since been copied by any of the +bards whose performances have experienced the same awful fate. + + +_Vindication of Lord Rochester._ + +A miscreant of the name of Fishbourne in the reign of Charles II. +published a vile play, called Sodom, so detestably obscene, that the +earl of Rochester, then in the full career of licentiousness and +debauchery, finding it ascribed to him, thought it necessary publicly to +disclaim the infamy of the authorship. This circumstance, coupled with +the gross tendency of most of even the best plays of that time, must +convey to the reader a tolerably correct idea how far the wretched +author had outstripped his companions in the career of turpitude. + + +_An elegant translation._ + +One Gordon (not Thomas Gordon, the translator of Tacitus) translated +Terence in the year 1752, and rendered the words, _ignarum artis +meretricis_, "_quite a stranger to the trade of these b----s._" + + +_Beware of a too free use of the bottle._ + +One Henry Higden, a dramatic writer about the close of the seventeenth +century, wrote a comedy, called the _Wary Widow_, in which he introduced +so many drinking scenes, that the actors were completely drunk before +the end of the third act, and being therefore unable to proceed with the +play, they dismissed the audience. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[E] See Baker's companion to the playhouse. Vol. I, page 21, 2. + +[F] See Baker, Vol. I. page 185. + + + + +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._ + + +_DOMESTIC CRITICISM._ + +In dramatic criticism the leading characters of the play, and the actors +who perform them, lay claim to the first and most particular +investigation. Those upon whom the more enlightened part of the public +have bestowed the greatest approbation, require the most severe +scrutiny, since they only can affect the public taste. Birds of passage +too who like Mr. Cooper and Master Payne "_come like shadows, so +depart_," are entitled to priority of attention; we therefore in our +last number, travelled with Mr. Cooper through the characters he +performed on his first visit to Philadelphia, without adverting to the +other performers, except in a few instances, in which the sterling merit +of Mr. Wood impressed itself so strongly on our minds, that we could not +resist our desire to do it justice, and his characters were so closely +connected with those of Mr. Cooper, that we thought they could not well +be separated. It would indeed be difficult to discuss Mr. Cooper's +merits in Zanga or Pierre, without dwelling upon the able support he +received in them, from Mr. Wood's _Alonzo_ and _Jaffier_. We cannot, +however, drop Mr. Wood there, since we rather glanced at, than reviewed +his performances. The public no doubt expect something more from us on +that gentleman's subject: the rapid advances he makes to professional +excellence, and the large space he now fills in public estimation, leave +to the critic no discretion. Such as the actor is, he must be shown. It +is a duty which we could not evade if we would; and we should be sorry +to be so deficient in taste, as not to discharge it with pleasure. + +Of no actor with whom we are acquainted can it with more truth be said +than it may of Mr. Wood, that he never performs a character positively +ill. A judgment clear, sound, and in general severely correct, with +exemplary labour and industry, secure him completely, even in those +characters for which he is least fitted, from offending the taste of his +auditors, or rendering his performance ridiculous; an assertion we would +hazard on the head of very few if any actors in America. This is to put +our opinion of him at once at the lowest: yet even that would appear +something to any one who could conceive the disgust with which it often +falls to our lot to turn from the scene before us. + +There is not in the whole catalogue of acting plays a character more +disadvantageous to an actor, than that of Alonzo. A compound of +imbecility and baseness, yet an object of commiseration: an unmanly, +blubbering, lovesick, querulous creature; a soldier, whining, piping and +besprent with tears, destitute of any good quality to gain esteem, or +any brilliant trait or interesting circumstance to relieve an actor +under the weight of representing him. In addition to this, there are so +many abrupt variations and different transitions that it requires great +talents in an actor to get through it, without incurring a share of the +contempt due to the character. Viewing him in this way, we could not +help regretting that it should devolve upon a young actor, who could +scarcely expect to escape unhurt in it. Our surprise was great, nor was +our pleasure less, to find in Mr. Wood's performance, a pleasing marked +delineation of the best features of Alonzo, with the worst considerably +softened and relieved. Seldom is a character so indebted to the aid of +an actor as this to the judgment of Mr. Wood. Dr. Young's muse flags +most dolefully in this part, and Mr. Wood did more than could be +expected to bear her up. We could not help wishing upon the occasion +that Alonzo could have bartered a portion of his judgment for a share of +the physical powers of Zanga; both would profit by the exchange. + +In the Copper Captain Mr. Wood had a character very favourable to the +actor, and well suited to his powers and talents. Michael, however, is +one of those vigorous productions of the old comic muse in which a +player incurs the danger of overshooting the mark in his efforts not to +fall short of it. One in which while the judicious actor luxuriates, and +gives a force to his whole comic powers, he finds it difficult to +observe very strictly the _ne quid nimis_ of the critic. The correct and +chaste judgment of Mr. Wood kept the bridle so firm on his performance +of it, that we do not think he once "o'erstepped the modesty of nature." + +In his performance of Iago we thought Mr. Wood inferior to himself. How +could he or any actor be expected to get through his business under the +circumstances of the theatre on that evening. A band of drunken butchers +had got into two of the front boxes, and converted them into a +grog-shop! + +In the prince of Wales in Henry IV. Mr. Wood displayed the versatility +of his talents. In the gay, thoughtless, trifling rake, the "madcap" +prince, he was spirited, and playful without puerility; in the serious +parts, whether as the penitent apologizing son, or the martial hero, he +was judicious, impressive, and not deficient in military importance. + +Where we see so much merit, merit so entirely his own, we advert to +faults with great reluctance. But it is our duty and we must do it. Of +the contagious nature of the KEMBLE PLAGUE in acting we cannot adduce a +more lamentable proof than that it sometimes taints even this very +judicious performer. How has it been endured by the British public, how +can it be reconciled to common sense, that players who are supposed to +represent human beings, and who assume to speak and act as men in real +existence, speak and act in the commerce of the world, should +constantly utter the lines set down for them, in such a manner as no +rational creature in real life ever yet did utter them, or ever will? +Does it give force, interest or dignity to the lines of a speech to take +up twice or thrice as much time in speaking them as the most formal, +deliberate, or pompous prig of an orator would employ upon them? Why +will not actors condescend to speak "_like the folks of this world_," +particularly as they pretend to imitate them? We never were at a royal +levee--but we have been at the pains to ask several persons who have +been, whether any king, or prince, or peer spoke there, as Mr. Kemble or +as Mr. Holman, or Mr. Pope after him, speak in Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth, +&c. and the uniform answer has been that the great men at court speak +just like all gentlemen in private society. As to public orators, we can +say that Mr. Kemble and his disciples occupy one third, or at least one +fourth more time in delivering any given number of words than ever the +stately William Pitt in his most slow and solemn exordiums. Yet this +they call speaking naturally--imitating the conduct of men. + +We do not allude to proper _pauses_, in the duration of which the actor +may be allowed some little license--and an extension of which is +frequently a beauty. Thus when _Balthazar_ informs _Romeo_ of _Juliet's_ +death, Mr. Cooper maintained a pause of great length with the most +felicitous effect. He stood overwhelmed, stupified, and bereft of speech +with horror and astonishment, then said + + "Is it even so?--then I defy you stars!" + +and paused again. Here like a great artist he filled up the picture of +which Shakspeare only gave the outlines: but when, afterwards he +expostulated with the apothecary, we could see no reason why he should +deliver out the lines syllable by syllable like drops of blood +reluctantly given from the heart. + + Art--thou--so--bare--and--full--of--wretchedness + And--fear'st--to--die? + +To us the last appeared as ludicrous as the former was beautiful and +affecting. But, "in the name of all the gods at once," why this? Though +Mr. Wood sometimes falls into this error, a few of the first lines of +his Jaffier smacked of it wofully. We should find no apprehension of +laying any sum upon it, if the thing could possibly be ascertained, that +in pronouncing the words + + Not hear me! by my sufferings but you shall! + My lord--my lord! I'm not that abject wretch + You think me. + +he occupied full double the time that Barry did, or even the late +Hodgkinson, whose good fortune it was not to have studied, or seen, or +drawn one drop of his professional sap from the great root of these +abuses. It is said by some of Mr. Kemble's advocates that he speaks in +that manner from necessity--that he does it to nurse his voice in the +beginning, which else would flag before the end of a long performance. +If this were a sufficient excuse for Mr. K. we should not disallow it in +the case of any other gentleman who labours under the disadvantage of a +weak voice. But we think it is not; it would be infinitely better for +the audience to compound with the actor and allow him resting between +the speech times. The majestic Spranger Barry when we last saw him was +not only so decrepit that he hobbled along the stage, and so bent in the +middle that his body formed an angle with his lower limbs, almost as +acute as that of a mounted telescope, but was so encumbered by infirmity +and high living that upon any violent exertion of the lungs he puffed +very painfully; yet even in that state we have heard him speak the part +of _Rhadamistus_ in _Zenobia_, with all the fire, rapidity, and +animation of youth, his fine person all the time raised erect for the +purpose: but as soon as the speech was over, down he sunk again to his +angle, and puffed and blowed, while the audience, with emotions mixed up +of admiration and grief gazed in a kind of melancholy delight on the +finest ruin that ever time made in the works of nature: thunders and +shouts of plaudits filled the house; every female was seen gazing upon +the wonderful man as if her eyes were nailed upon their axes, and were +melting away with floods of tears, while he, from a face of almost +divine sweetness, gave back their love and their indulgence with +interest. He was allowed to take his own time--not in the speeches, but +between them. + +Though these remarks are introduced in a part of our criticism dedicated +to the performances of Mr. Wood, we by no means would have it understood +that it applies exclusively, or even particularly to him. There is no +performer on the American stage, perhaps, to whom they less frequently +apply; but we have started the subject with him purposely to point out +by an instance _a fortiori_ how dangerous it is to a young actor, not to +guard against a great imperfection. When he whose sound judgment and +industry may reasonably be supposed to secure him from such errors, +insensibly falls into them, actors of inferior capacity and less +industry will see, or at least ought to see the necessity of standing +upon a more vigilant guard. + +Since the subject is started we will proceed with it, though perhaps to +the exclusion from this number of some other matter originally intended +for it. Can those, who, loving the drama, and feeling its beauties with +a true classic spirit, wish to see the public taste won over to the +tragic muse, hope that it can be accomplished, or can they be surprised +that on the contrary, tragedy so often excites merriment when they +reflect upon the way dramatic poetry is often delivered upon the stage. +Let the first three men who pass by the playhouse door be called in, one +of them taken from the highest order of life, a second from the middle +order, and the third from the very lowest class--let them hear a tragedy +through, or even some parts of a comedy, and let them then give their +verdict as on oath, whether what they heard, resembled anything they had +ever heard before out of a playhouse, or perchance a madhouse, and they +must answer in the negative or perjure themselves. + +This was one of the evils which Garrick had the glory of eradicating. +Just before him, actors spoke in the ti-tum-ti monotonous sing-song way +of the new school. Old Macklin some years ago, assured the writer of +this, that except in some few declamatory speeches, or in the ghost of +Hamlet, QUIN would not be endured at that time in tragedy: and what said +this Quin himself when he was prevailed upon to go to Goodman's Fields +to see Garrick for the first time? "I dont know what to say," he replied +to one who asked his opinion of the young actor, "but if he be right, +_we have all been wrong_." Quin's integrity would not let him deny a +truth which his judgment told him in the very teeth of his prejudices. + +Absurd and _unnatural_ as this miserable mode of speech is, it is very +difficult to be got rid of, when it once becomes habitual to an actor; a +memorable instance of which was old MR. WIGNELL of Covent garden, the +father of our late manager. He was one of the Quin school, and if now +alive and able to act, would once more hitch in very handsomely with the +recitativers of the new academy of acting, for, says the author of the +Thespian dictionary, "_He possessed the singular talent of imparting +stateliness to comic dialogues, and merriment to tragic scenes._" Of +this gentleman many anecdotes are recorded, curious in themselves, and +well deserving the consideration of young actors. + +Upon the revival of the tragedy of Cato in London (Cato by Sheridan) Mr. +Wignell was put forward in his old established part of Portius. In the +first scene he stepped forward in his accustomed strut and began + + The dawn is overcast, the morning low'rs + And heavily with clouds brings on the day. + +At this moment the audience began to vociferate "prologue, prologue, +prologue," when Wignell finding them resolute without moving from the +spot, without pausing, or changing his tone of voice, but in all the +pomposity of tragedy, went on as if it were part of the play. + + "Ladies and gentlemen, there has been no + Prologue spoken to this play these twenty years-- + The great, the important day, big with the fate + Of Cato and of Rome."---- + +This wonderful effusion put the audience in good humour--they laughed +incontinently--clapped and shouted _bravo_, and Wignell proceeded with +his usual stateliness, self-complacency, and composure. + +Mr. Wignell's biographer above mentioned relates the following anecdote. +"During a rehearsal of _the suspicious husband_, Mr. Garrick exclaimed +"pray Mr. Wignell, why cannot you enter and say, "_Mr. Strictland, sir, +your coach is ready_", without all the declamatory pomp of Booth or +Quin?"--"Upon my soul, Mr. Garrick," replied poor Wignell, "_I thought I +had kept the sentiment down as much as possible._"" When Macklin +performed _Macbeth_ Wignell played the _doctor_, and in this serious +character provoked loud fits of laughter. + +The above facts contain a valuable lesson to actors, some of whom can, +no more than Mr. Wignell, _get the sentiment down_, when they have an +event of such importance to announce as _the coach being ready_. In +serious truth we are persuaded that the fulsome, bombastical ridiculous +stateliness of some actors, tends to bring tragedy into disrepute, to +deprive it of its high preeminence, and must ultimately disgust the +multitude with some of the noblest productions of the human mind. + +Two other characters of the tragedies already alluded to, demand from +the justice of criticism the most full and unmixed praise. _Falstaff_ in +Henry IV. and _Cacafogo_ in Rule a Wife and have a Wife, had in Mr. +Warren a most able representative. Having seen several--the select ones +of the last five and thirty years--we can truly say, without entering +into nice comparisons, that if we were to sit to those two plays a +hundred times in America or Great Britain, we could be well contented +with just such a Falstaff and just such a Cacafogo as Mr. Warren. + + +_The Foundling of the Forest._ + +In our first number we made a few observations on this comedy. They were +not very favourable to it; and, notwithstanding its great success in +representation, we are not at all disposed to retract any of them, +because our opinion of the intrinsic value of the piece is not in the +least altered. In representation it is all--in the closet nothing. This +arises from the conduct of the plot, which indeed constitutes the whole +of its merit. In Europe, as in America, the judgment of every critic is +at variance with the decision of the multitude upon it, for while at the +Lyceum it has been applauded by "the million," it has been lashed by the +judicious, in various respectable publications. + +The time has been, nor has it long passed by, when that body in the +community who decided the fate of every literary performance, far from +being contented with EFFECT upon the stage, condemned it, if it were not +produced by an adequate CAUSE in nature. To that body the Farrago of +Melodrame, written spectacle, and mysterious agency, would have been +objects of ridicule or disapprobation, and the just influence of their +opinions upon the public would have driven back the German muse with all +her paraphernalia of tempests, castles, dungeons, and murderers, to rave +on her native ground: except in their proper place (farce or pantomime) +they would not have been tolerated. To write only to the passions, to +expose human beings to circumstances that cannot in the natural course +of life occur, and release them by means which outrage all probability, +and to those ends to urge vice and virtue beyond all possible bounds, +and fabricate extreme characters such as have rarely or never existed, +characters either better than saints, or worse than devils, for the mere +purpose of producing horror and astonishment, and hanging up the +feelings of the multitude on the tenterhooks of fearful suspense and +painful apprehension--to violate all the rules prescribed by nature and +experience, and place heroes and heroines in situations so far out of +the course of human conduct, that the poet cannot get them out again by +rational, feasible means, but is compelled to leave their fate to the +guess of the spectators by picturesque grouping and dropping the +curtain. What is this but to reverse the very nature of the drama, +"Whose end," says its father Shakspeare, "both at the first and now, was +and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to Nature, to show Virtue her +own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time +his form and pressure." + +By such miserable expedients as these, the fascinating effects of the +Foundling of the Forest are produced. But in the management of those +materials, the author has displayed unparalleled skill. The story in its +original outline is certainly interesting, and the plot is not only +skilfully developed but artfully contrived as a vehicle for stage +effect--for such merely, has the author evidently intended it; his +arrangement of the machinery, such as it is, demands warm praise for its +perspicuity and just order, and if the alarming and horrific be +legitimate objects for a dramatist, Mr. Dimond has succeeded most +marvellously. + +The sorriest critic, however, knows that horror ought not to be produced +on the stage. The boundary that separates terror from horror, is the +lawful limit--the line not to be broken--the _Rubicon_ which when the +poet passes, he commits treason against the sovereign laws of the drama. +The _mighty magician of Udolpho_, as the author of the pursuits of +Literature calls Mrs. Radcliff, with powers almost beyond human, infused +into the British public a taste for the horrible which has not yet been +palled by the nauseous draughts of it, poured forth by her impotent +successors. One would think that, like Macbeth, the novel and play +reading world had by this time, supped full of horrors; but not +so--every season brings forth a new proof that that taste so far from +being extinguished, has grown to an appetite canine and ravenous which +devours with indiscriminating greediness the elegant cates of the +sumptuous, board and the offal of the shambles; provided only that they +have sufficient of the German haut-gout of the marvellous and horrible. + +"_Plot--plot--plot_," says an enlightened British critic, "have been Mr. +Dimond's three studies." But what shall be said of the characters. To +any one who frequents the theatre, the characters of Longueville, +L'Eclair, Gaspard, Rosabelle, and perhaps more, are quite familiar. They +are among the worn out slippers of the modern dramatists. The character +of Bertrand is a moral novelty on the stage, and not less unnatural than +novel. Unnatural, not because he repents with a remorse truly horrible, +but because, while filled with that remorse, he submits to be a murderer +and a villian rather than violate an _oath_ he had made to perpetrate +any crime Longueville should command. This unfortunate wretch is kept in +torments through the whole play, and after having by an act of bold and +resolute virtue expiated his crimes and brought about the happy +catastrophe of the piece, is left to sneak off unrewarded. As to +Florian, though obviously intended for the hero of the tale, he is a +strange nondescript, in whose language the author has given buffoonery +by way of wit, and bombast by way of dignity. The Count De Valmont is a +most interesting personage, and so is the countess Eugenia. + +Of the acting we can with truth speak more favourably than of the +writing. The characters throughout were well supported; but Mr. Wood in +De Valmont and Mr. M'Kenzie in Bertrand were so striking and impressive +that the critic's attention was chiefly attracted by them. Mr. Wood's +performance was exquisitely fine even on the first night, and every +repetition disclosed augmented excellence. In the second scene of the +second act, where Bertrand prostrates himself before Eugenia, Mr. +M'Kenzie presented in his posture of supplication, such a natural yet +terrible, picture of the humiliating effects of guilt and consequent +remorse, as could not fail to make an awful impression on the most +hardened and unfeeling sinner. In Longueville Mr. Warren was, as he +always is, correct and respectable, and Mr. Cone made much more of the +ticklish part of Florian than we had a right to expect. In L'Eclair Mr. +Jefferson was, as he seldom fails to be, diverting: But on a future +occasion we propose saying a few words, by way of friendly expostulation +with this powerful actor, who, yielding to the baneful itch for gallery +applause, is gradually sullying some of the finest talents, once the +chastest, too, upon the stage. In his Rosabelle (Mrs. Wilmot) he might +see admirable comic powers, and great histrionic skill, which the public +applause of years has not yet misled into the vulgar track--"the pitiful +ambition of setting on some quantity of _barren_ spectators to laugh" by +buffoonery. + +Mrs. Wood maintained her long acknowledged claim upon the respect and +approbation of her audience, and gained for the lovely sufferer Eugenia, +all the sympathy which the author could have hoped to excite. Always +highly interesting, one can't tell why--never incorrect or +indifferent--often extremely impressive in characters of a serious cast, +we think that comedy is her _forte_. In several parts, some too indeed +which verged upon the lower comedy, we have noticed enough to convince +us, that by a studious, and as far as might be, exclusive attention to +the comic muse, Mrs. W. would soon become one of her most distinguished +favourites. + + * * * * * + +In our next number Mr. COOPER'S second series of performances will be +attended to--particularly his _Orsino_, in which it gives us pleasure to +observe that we could not discover a fault, but all was uniform +excellence. This character we consider as making an era in the history +of Mr. Cooper's acting. ALPHONSO is a tragedy which merits frequent +repetition. + + + + +A + +NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS, + +A COMEDY, + +IN FIVE ACTS. + +BY PHILIP MASSINGER, ESQ. + + + PRINTED FOR BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD-STREET, + PHILADELPHIA; INSKEEP AND BRADFORD, NEW-YORK; + AND WILLIAM M'ILHENNY, BOSTON, + BY SMITH AND M'KENZIE. + + 1810. + + + +A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +Lord Lovell. +Sir Giles Overreach. +Justice Greedy. +Wellborn. +Allworth. +Marall. +Order. +Furnace. +Amble. +Tapwell. +Welldo. +Watchall. +Vintner. +Tailor. +Creditors. +Lady Allworth. +Margaret. +Froth. +Bridget. +Barbara. + + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I.--_The Outside of a Village Alehouse._ + +_Enter_ Wellborn, Tapwell, _and_ Froth, _from the House._ + +_Wellb._ No liquor? nor no credit? + +_Tap._ None, sir, for you; +Not the remainder of a single can, +Left by a drunken porter. + +_Froth._ Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir: +'Tis verity, I assure you. + +_Wellb._ Verity, you brach! +The devil turn'd precisian! Rogue, what am I? + +_Tap._ Troth! durst I trust you with a looking-glass, +To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me, +And take the name yourself. + +_Wellb._ How? dog! + +_Tap._ Even so, sir. +And I must tell you, if you but advance a foot, +There dwells, and within call (if it please your worship,) +A potent monarch, call'd the constable, +That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks; +Such as with great dexterity will haul +Your poor tatter'd---- + +_Wellb._ Rascal! slave! + +_Froth._ No rage, sir. + +_Tap._ At his own peril! Do not put yourself +In too much heat; there being no water near +To quench your thirst: and sure, for other liquor, +I take it, +You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir. + +_Wellb._ Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou talk thus? +Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift? + +_Tap._ I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell +Does keep no other register. + +_Wellb._ Am not I he +Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee? Wert thou not +Born on my father's land, and proud to be +A drudge in his house? + +_Tap._ What I was, sir, it skills not; +What you are, is apparent. Now, for a farewell: +Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you, +I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, +My quondam master, was a man of worship; +Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace, and quorum; +And stood fair to be custos rotulorum: +Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a great house: +Reliev'd the poor, and so forth: but he dying, +And the twelve hundred a-year coming to you, +Late Mr. Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn---- + +_Wellb._ Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself. + +_Froth._ Very hardly, +You cannot be out of your way. + +_Tap._ But to my story; I shall proceed, sir: +You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant, +And I your under-butler: note the change now; +You had a merry time of't: Hawks and hounds; +With choice of running horses; mistresses, +And other such extravagancies; +Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing, +Resolving not to lose so fair an opportunity, +On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, +For a while supplied your lavishness; and +Having got your land, then left you. +While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little stock, +Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage; +Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here; +Gave entertainment---- + +_Wellb._ Yes, to whores and pickpockets. + +_Tap._ True; but they brought in profit; +And had a gift to pay what they call'd for; +And stuck not like your mastership. The poor income +I glean'd from them, hath made me, in my parish, +Thought worthy to be scavenger; and, in time, +May rise to be overseer of the poor: +Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn, +I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter; +And you shall thank my worship. + +_Wellb._ Thus, you dog-bolt---- +And thus---- [_Beats him._ + +_Tap._ Cry out for help! + +_Wellb._ Stir, and thou diest: +Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save you. +Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! Did not I +Make purses for you? Then you lick'd my boots +And thought your holiday coat too coarse to clean them. +'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever +Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst +Live like an emperor; 'twas I that gave it, +In ready gold. Deny this, wretch! + +_Tap._ I cannot, sir. + +_Wellb._ They are well rewarded +That beggar themselves to make such rascals rich. +Thou viper, thankless viper! +But since you are grown forgetful, I will help +Your memory, and beat thee into remembrance; +Not leave one bone unbroken. + +_Tap._ Oh! + +_Enter_ Allworth. + +_Allw._ Hold; for my sake, hold! +Deny me, Frank? they are not worth your anger? + +_Wellb._ For once thou hast redeem'd them from +this sceptre: [_Shaking his Cudgel._ +But let them vanish; +For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. + +_Froth._ This comes of your prating, husband! you presum'd +On your ambling wit, and must use your glib tongue, +Though you are beaten lame for't. + +_Tap._ Patience, Froth, +There's no law to cure our bruises. + +[_They go off into the House._ + +_Wellb._ Sent for to your mother? + +_Allw._ My lady, Frank! my patroness! my all! +She's such a mourner for my father's death, +And, in her love to him, so favours me, +That I cannot pay too much observance to her. +There are few such stepdames. + +_Wellb._ 'Tis a noble widow, +And keeps her reputation pure, and clear +From the least taint. +Pr'ythee, tell me +Has she no suitors? + +_Allw._ Even the best of the shire, Frank, +My lord excepted: such as sue, and send, +And send, and sue again; but to no purpose. +Their frequent visits have not gain'd her presence; +Yet, she's so far from sullenness and pride, +That, I dare undertake, you shall meet from her +A liberal entertainment. + +_Wellb._ I doubt it not: but hear me, Allworth, +And take from me good counsel, I am bound to give it.---- +Thy father was my friend; and that affection +I bore to him, in right descends to thee: +Thou art a handsome, and a hopeful youth, +Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, +If I with any danger can prevent it. + +_Allw._ I thank your noble care; but, pray you, in what +Do I run the hazard? + +_Wellb._ Art thou not in love? +Put it not off with wonder. + +_Allw._ In love? + +_Wellb._ You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent. +I have heard all, and the choice that you have made; +And with my finger, can point out the north star, +By which the loadstone of your folly's guided. +And, to confirm this true, what think you of +Fair Margaret, the only child, and heir +Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start, +To hear her only nam'd? Blush at your want +Of wit and reason. + +_Allw._ Howe'er you have discovered my intents, +You know my aims are lawful; and if ever +The queen of flowers, the glory of the Spring, +The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose, +Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer, +There's such disparity in their conditions, +Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter, +And the base churl her father. + +_Wellb._ Grant this true, +As I believe it; canst thou ever hope +To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father +Ruin'd thy state? + +_Allw._ And yours, too. + +_Wellb._ I confess it, Allworth. But, +I must tell you as a friend, and freely, +Where impossibilities are apparent. +Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind thee) +That Sir Giles Overreach (that, to make her great +In swelling titles, without touch of conscience, +Will cut his neighbour's throat, and, I hope, his own too) +Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er, +And think of some course suitable to thy rank, +And prosper in it. + +_Allw._ You have well advis'd me. +But, in the meantime, you that are so studious +Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own. +Remember yourself, and in what plight you are. + +_Wellb._ No matter! no matter! + +_Allw._ Yes, 'tis much material: +You know my fortune, and my means; yet something +I can spare from myself, to help your wants. + +_Wellb._ How's this? + +_Allw._ Nay, be not angry. There's eight pieces +To put you in better fashion. + +_Wellb._ Money from thee? +From a boy? a dependant? one that lives +At the devotion of a step-mother, +And the uncertain favour of a lord? +I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind Fortune +Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me; +Though I am thrust out of an alehouse, +And thus accoutred; know not where to eat, +Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy; +Although I thank thee, I disdain thy offer. +And as I, in my madness, broke my state, +Without the assistance of another's brain, +In my right wits I'll piece it. At the worst, +Die thus, and be forgotten. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Chamber in_ Lady Allworth's _House._ + +_Enter_ Furnace, Amble, Order, _and_ Watchall. + +_Order._ Set all things right; or as my name is Order, +Whoever misses in his function, +For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast, +And privilege in the wine-cellar. + +_Amble._ You are merry, +Good master steward. + +_Fur._ Let him; I'll be angry. + +_Amble._ Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet, +Nor dinner taking up: then 'tis allow'd, +Cooks by their places, may be choleric. + +_Fur._ You think you have spoken wisely, goodman Amble, +My lady's go-before. + +_Order._ Nay, nay, no wrangling. + +_Fur._ Twit me with the authority of the kitchen? +At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry: +And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers +I will be angry. + +_Amble._ There was no hurt meant. + +_Fur._ I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry. + +_Order._ With whom? + +_Fur._ No matter whom: yet, now I think on't, +I'm angry with my lady. + +_Amble._ Heaven forbid, man! + +_Order._ What cause has she given thee? + +_Fur._ Cause enough, master steward: +I was entertained by her to please her palate; +And, till she foreswore eating, I perform'd it. +Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died, +Though I crack'd my brains to find out tempting sauces, +And raise fortifications in the pastry, +When I am three parts roasted, +And the fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands, +She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada, +Or water-gruel, my skill never thought on. + +_Order._ But your art is seen in the dining room. + +_Fur._ By whom? +By such as pretend to love her; but come +To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies +That do devour her, I am out of charity +With none so much, as the thin-gutted squire, +That's stolen into commission. + +_Order._ Justice Greedy? + +_Fur._ The same, the same. Meat's cast away upon him; +It never thrives. He holds this paradox, +Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well. +His stomach's as insatiate as the grave. + +_Watch._ One knocks. + +[Allworth _knocks, and enters._ + +_Order._ Our late young master. + +_Amble._ Welcome, sir. + +_Fur._ Your hand-- +If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat's ready. +We are all your servants. + +_All._ At once, my thanks to all: +This is yet some comfort. Is my lady stirring? + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Order._ Her presence answers for us. + +_Lady A._ Sort those silks well. +I'll take the air alone. + +_Fur._ You air, and air; +But will never taste but spoon meat more: +To what use serve I? + +_Lady A._ Pr'ythee, be not angry, +I shall, ere long: i'th' mean time, there +Is gold for thee. + +_Fur._ I am appeas'd--and Furnace now grows cold. + +_Lady A._ And, as I gave directions, if this morning +I am visited by any, entertain them +As heretofore: but say, in my excuse, +I am indispos'd. + +_Order._ I shall, madam. + +_Lady A._ Do, and leave me. + +[_Exeunt_ Order, Amble, Watchall _and_ Furnace. + +Nay, stay you, Allworth. + +_Allw._ I shall gladly grow here, +To wait on your commands. + +_Lady A._ So soon turn'd courtier? + +_Allw._ Style not that courtship, madam, which is duty, +Purchased on your part. + +_Lady A._ Well, you shall o'ercome; +I'll not contend in words. How is it +With your noble master? + +_Allw._ Ever like himself. +No scruple lessen'd in the full weight of honour: +He did command me (pardon my presumption), +As his unworthy deputy, +To kiss your ladyship's fair hands. + +_Lady A._ I am honour'd in +His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose +For the Low Countries? + +_Allw._ Constantly, good madam: +But he will, in person, first present his service. + +_Lady A._ And how approve you of his course? You are yet +Like virgin parchment, capable of any +Inscription, vitious or honourable. +I will not force your will, but leave you free +To your own election. + +_Allw._ Any form you please +I will put on: but might I make my choice, +With humble emulation, I would follow +The path my lord marks to me. + +_Lady A._ 'Tis well answer'd, +And I commend your spirit: you had a father, +(Bless'd be his memory) that some few hours +Before the will of Heaven took him from me, +Did commend you, by the dearest ties +Of perfect love between us, to my charge: +And, therefore, what I speak, you are bound to hear +With such respect, as if he liv'd in me. + +_Allw._ I have found you, +Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me; +And with my utmost strength of care and service, +Will labour that you never may repent +Your bounties shower'd upon me. + +_Lady A._ I much hope it. +These were your father's words: If e'er my son +Follow the war, tell him it is a school +Where all the principles tending to honour +Are taught, if truly follow'd: But for such +As repair thither, as a place in which +They do presume, they may with license practise +Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit +The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly +In a fair cause, and for the country's safety, +To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted; +To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies; +To bear with patience the winter's cold, +And summer's scorching heat-- +Are the essential parts make up a soldier; +Not swearing, dice, or drinking. + +_Allw._ There's no syllable +You speak, but it is to me an oracle; +Which but to doubt were impious. + +_Lady A._ To conclude-- +Beware ill company; for, often, men +Are like to those with whom they do converse: +And from one man I warn you, and that's Wellborn: +Not cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity; +But that he's in his manners so debauch'd, +And hath to vitious courses sold himself. +'Tis true your father lov'd him, while he was +Worthy the loving; but, if he had liv'd +To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off, +As you must do. + +_Allw._ I shall obey in all things. + +_Lady A._ Follow me to my chamber; you shall have gold +To furnish you like my son, and still supplied +As I hear from you. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Hall in Lady_ Allworth's _House._ + +_Enter_ Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, Furnace, Watchall, _and_ +Marall. + +_Greedy._ Not to be seen? + +_Sir G._ Still cloister'd up?--Her reason, +I hope, assures her, though she makes herself +Close prisoner for ever for her husband's loss, +'Twill not recover him. + +_Order._ Sir, it is her will: +Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, +And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome: +And if you please to stay, that you may think so, +There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe +Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself +For my lady's honour. + +_Greedy._ Is it of the right race? + +_Order._ Yes, Mr. Greedy. + +_Amble._ How his mouth runs o'er! + +_Fur._ I'll make it run, and run. 'Save your good worship! + +_Greedy._ Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand; again!--How I love thee! +Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy. + +_Fur._ If you have a mind to feed there is a chine +Of beef, well season'd. + +_Greedy._ Good. + +_Fur._ A pheasant larded-- + +_Greedy._ That I might now give thanks for't! + +_Fur._ Other kickshaws. +Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood, +The fattest stag I ever cook'd. + +_Greedy._ A stag, man? + +_Fur._ A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner, +And bak'd in puff-paste. + +_Greedy._ Puff-paste too, Sir Giles! +A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded! +And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-paste! +All business set aside, let us give thanks here. + +_Sir G._ You know, we cannot. + +_Mar._ Your worships are to sit on a commission, +And if you fail to come, you lose the cause. + +_Greedy_ Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for such a dinner, +We may put off a commission; you shall find it +_Henrici decimo quarto_. + +_Sir G._ Fie, Mr. Greedy! +Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner? +No more, for shame! We must forget the belly, +When we think of profit. + +_Greedy_ Well, you shall o'er-rule me. +I could even cry now. Do you hear, Mr. Cook? +Send but a corner of that immortal pasty; +And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy, +Send you a brace of three-pences. + +_Fur._ Will you be so prodigal? + +_Sir G._ Remember me to your lady. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +Who have we here? + +_Wellb._ Don't you know me? + +_Sir G._ I did once, but now I will not; +Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar! +If ever thou presume to own me more, +I'll have thee cag'd and whipt. + +_Greedy._ I'll grant the warrant. [_Exit_ Marall. +I do love thee, Furnace, +E'en as I do malmsey in a morning. +Think of pye-corner, Furnace! + +[_Exeunt_ Sir Giles _and_ Greedy. + +_Watch._ Will you out, sir? +I wonder how you durst creep in. + +_Order._ This is rudeness, +And saucy impudence. + +_Amble._ Cannot you stay +To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket, +But you must press into the hall? + +_Fur._ Pr'ythee, vanish +Into some outhouse, though it be the pigsty; +My scullion shall come to thee. + +_Enter_ Allworth. + +_Wellb._ This is rare: +Oh, here is Tom Allworth! Tom! + +_Allw._ We must be strangers; +Nor would I have seen you here for a million. + +[_Exit._ + +_Wellb._ Better and better. He contemns me too. + +_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid. + +_Woman._ Oh! what a smell's here? What thing is this? + +_Cham._ Oh! a filthy creature! +Let us hence, for love's sake, or I shall swoon! + +_Woman._ I begin to faint, too. [_Exeunt._ + +_Watch._ Will you know your way? + +_Amble._ Or shall we teach it you, +By the head and shoulders? + +_Wellb._ No; I will not stir: +Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch +That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves +Created only to make legs, and cringe; +To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher; +That have not souls to hope a blessing +Beyond your master's leavings; you that were born +Only to consume meat and drink; +Who advances? Who shows me the way? + +_Order._ Here comes my lady. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ What noise is this? + +_Wellb._ Madam, my designs bear me to you. + +_Lady A._ To me? + +_Wellb._ And though I have met with +But ragged entertainment from your groom here, +I hope from you to receive that noble usage, +As may become the true friend of your husband; +And then I shall forget these. + +_Lady A._ I am amaz'd, +To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think, +Though sworn, that it can ever find belief, +That I, who to the best men of this country +Denied my presence since my husband's death, +Can fall so low as to change words with thee? + +_Wellb._ Scorn me not, good lady; +But, as in form you are angelical, +Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe +At least awhile to hear me. You will grant, +The blood that runs in this arm is as noble +As that which fills your veins; your swelling titles, +Equipage and fortune; your men's observance, +And women's flattery, are in you no virtues; +Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. +You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it; +Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more +Than in the pious sorrow you have shown +For your late noble husband. + +_Order._ How she starts! + +_Wellb._ That husband, madam, was once in his fortune, +Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and quarrels, +Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought +A boast in me, though I say, I reliev'd him. +'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword +That did on all occasions second his; +I brought him on and off with honour, lady: +And when in all men's judgments he was sunk, +And in his own hopes not to be buoyed up; +I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, +And brought him to the shore. + +_Fur._ Are not we base rogues +That could forget this? + +_Wellb._ I confess you made him +Master of your estate; nor could your friends. +Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't: +For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind +Made up of all parts, either great or noble, +So winning a behaviour, not to be +Resisted, madam. + +_Lady A._ 'Tis most true, he had. + +_Wellb._ For his sake then, in that I was his friend, +Do not contemn me. + +_Lady A._ For what's past excuse me; +I will redeem it. +Order, give this gentleman an hundred pounds. + +_Wellb._ Madam, on no terms: +I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you; +But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever. +Only one suit I make, which you deny not +To strangers; and 'tis this: pray give me leave. + +[_Whispers to her._ + +_Order._ [_Aside._] What means this, I trow? + +_Fur._ Mischief to us, if he has malice +To return our favour to him. + +_Order._ Be still, and let us mark. + +_Lady A._ Fie, nothing else? + +_Wellb._ Nothing; unless you please to charge your servants +To throw away a little respect upon me. + +_Lady A._ What you demand is yours. +If you have said all, +When you please you may retire. + +_Wellb._ I thank you, lady. + +[_Exit_ Lady Allworth. + +Now what can be wrought out of such a suit, +Is yet in supposition. [Servants _bow_,] Nay, all's forgotten, all +forgiven. + +_All._ Good, dear, sweet, merry Mr. Wellborn! + +_Exit_ Servants. + +_Wellb._ 'Faith, a right worthy and a liberal lady, +Who can, at once, so kindly meet my purposes, +And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem +Her husband's friend! When, by this honest plot, +The world believes she means to heal my wants +With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor +Will be struck mute, and I be left at large +To practise on my uncle Overreach; +Whose foul, rapacious spirit, (on the hearing +Of my encouragement from this rich lady,) +Again will court me to his house and patronage. +Here I may work the measure to redeem +My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripped me of, +When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason. +The fancy pleases--if the plot succeed, +'Tis a new way to pay old debts indeed! + +[_Exit._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE I.--Sir Giles's _House_. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ He's gone, I warrant thee; this commission crush'd him. + +_Mar._ Your worship has the way on't, and ne'er miss +To squeeze these unthrifts into air; and yet +The chap-fallen justice did his part, returning +For your advantage the certificate, +Against his conscience and his knowledge too; +(With your good favour) to the utter ruin +Of the poor farmer. + +_Sir G._ 'Twas for these good ends +I made him a justice. He, that bribes his belly, +Is certain to command his soul. + +_Mar._ I wonder. +Why, your worship having +The power to put this thin-gut in commission, +You are not in't yourself. + +_Sir G._ Thou art a fool: +In being out of office, I am out of danger; +Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble, +I might, or out of wilfulness, or error, +Run myself finely into a praemunire: +And so become a prey to the informer. +No, I'll have none of't: 'tis enough I keep +Greedy at my devotion: so he serve +My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not; +Friendship is but a word. + +_Mar._ You are all wisdom. + +_Sir G._ I would be worldly wise; for the other wisdom, +That does prescribe us a well-govern'd life, +And to do right to others, as ourselves, +I value not an atom. + +_Mar._ What course take you, +(With your good patience) to hedge in the manor +Of your neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As 'tis said, +He will not sell, nor borrow, nor exchange; +And his land lying in the midst of your many lordships, +Is a foul blemish. + +_Sir. G._ I have thought on't, Marall; +And it shall take. I must have all men sellers, +And I the only purchaser. + +_Mar._ 'Tis most fit, sir. + +_Sir G._ I'll, therefore, buy some cottage near his manor; +Which done, I'll make my men break ope' his fences, +Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the night +Set fire to his barns, or break his cattle's legs. +These trespasses draw on suits, and suits, expenses; +Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him. +When I have hurried him thus, two or three years, +Though he was sue forma pauperis, in spite +Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behind hand. + +_Mar._ The best I ever heard! I could adore you! + +_Sir G._ Then, with the favour of my man of law, +I will pretend some title; want will force him +To put it to arbitrement; then, if he sell +For half the value, he shall have ready money, +And I possess the land. + +_Mar._ Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not +These fine arts, sir, to hook him in. + +_Sir G._ Well thought on. +This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long, to upbraid me +With my close cheat put upon him. Will nor cold +Nor hunger kill him? + +_Mar._ I know not what to think on't. +I have us'd all means; and the last night I caus'd +His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors; +And have been since with all your friends and tenants, +And on the forfeit of your favour, charg'd them, +Tho' a crust of mouldy bread would keep him from starving, +Yet they should not relieve him. + +_Sir G._ That was something, Marall, but thou must go farther; +And suddenly, Marall. + +_Mar._ Where, and when you please, sir. + +_Sir G._ I would have thee seek him out; and, if thou canst, +Persuade him, that 'tis better steal, than beg; +Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost, +Not all the world shall save him from the gallows. +Do anything to work him to despair, +And 'tis thy masterpiece. + +_Mar._ I will do my best, sir. + +_Sir G._ I am now on my main work, with the Lord Lovell; +The gallant-minded, popular Lord Lovell, +The minion of the people's love. I hear +He's come into the country; and my aims are +To insinuate myself into his knowledge, +And then invite him to my house. + +_Mar._ I have you. +This points at my young mistress. + +_Sir G._ She must part with +That humble title, and write honourable; +Right honourable, Marall; my right honourable daughter; +If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it. +I will have her well attended; there are ladies +Of errant knights decay'd, and brought so low, +That, for cast clothes, and meat, will gladly serve her. +And 'tis my glory, though I come from the city, +To have their issue, whom I have undone, +To kneel to mine, as bond slaves. + +_Mar._ 'Tis fit state, sir. + +_Sir G._ And, therefore, I'll not have a chambermaid +That ties her shoes, or any meaner office, +But such, whose fathers were right worshipful. +'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been +More than a feud, a strange antipathy, +Between us, and true gentry. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +_Mar._ See! who's here, sir? + +_Sir G._ Hence, monster! prodigy! + +_Wellb._ Call me what you will, I am your nephew, sir. + +_Sir G._ Avoid my sight! thy breath's infectious, rogue! +I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague. +Come hither, Marall, this is the time to work him. + +_Mar._ I warrant you, sir. + +[_Exit_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Wellb._ By this light, I think he's mad. + +_Mar._ Mad! had you took compassion on yourself, +You long since had been mad. + +_Wellb._ You have took a course, +Between you and my venerable uncle, +To make me so. + +_Mar._ The more pale-spirited you, +That would not be instructed. I swear deeply. + +_Wellb._ By what? + +_Mar._ By my religion. + +_Wellb._ Thy religion! +The devil's creed: but what would you have done? + +_Mar._ Before, like you, I had outliv'd my fortunes, +A withe had serv'd my turn to hang myself. +I am zealous in your cause: 'pray you, hang yourself; +And presently, as you love your credit. + +_Wellb._ I thank you. + +_Mar._ Will you stay till you die in a ditch? +Or, if you dare not do the fate yourself, +But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble, +Is there no purse to be cut? house to be broken? +Or market-woman, with eggs, that you may murder, +And so despatch the business? + +_Wellb._ Here's variety, +I must confess; but I'll accept of none +Of all your gentle offers, I assure you. + +_Mar._ If you like not hanging, drown yourself; take some course +For your reputation. + +_Wellb._ 'Twill not do, dear tempter, +With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught you. +I am as far as thou art from despair. +Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope, +To live, and suddenly, better than ever. + +_Mar._ Ha! ha! these castles you build in the air +Will not persuade me, or to give, or lend +A token to you. + +_Wellb._ I'll be more kind to thee. +Come, thou shalt dine with me. + +_Mar._ With you? + +_Wellb._ Nay, more, dine gratis. + +_Mar._ Under what hedge, I pray you? or, at whose cost? +Are they padders, or gipsies, that are your consorts? + +_Wellb._ Thou art incredulous; but thou shalt dine, +Not alone at her house, but with a gallant lady; +With me, and with a lady. + +_Mar._ Lady! what lady? +With the lady of the lake, or queen of fairies? +For I know it must be an enchanted dinner. + +_Wellb._ With the Lady Allworth, knave. + +_Mar._ Nay, now there's hope +Thy brain is crack'd. + +_Wellb._ Mark there, with what respect +I am entertain'd. + +_Mar._ With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips. +Why, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter? + +_Wellb._ 'Tis not far off, go with me: trust thine own eyes. + +_Mar._ Troth, in my hope, or my assurance, rather, +To see thee curvet, and mount like a dog in a blanket, +If ever thou presume to pass her threshold, +I will endure thy company. + +_Wellb._ Come along. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Hall in_ Lady Allworth's _House_. + +_Enter_ Allworth, Order, Amble, _and_ Watchall. + +_Allw._ Your courtesies overwhelm me: I much grieve +To part from this house, and yet, I find comfort; +My attendance on my honourable lord, +Whose resolution holds to visit my lady, +Will speedily bring me back. + +[_Knocking at the Gate._ Marall _and_ Wellborn _within_. + +_Mar._ Dar'st thou venture farther? + +_Wellb._ Yes, yes, and knock again. + +_Order._ 'Tis he; disperse; 'tis Mr. Wellborn. + +_Fur._ I know my cue, ne'er doubt me. + +[_Exeunt_ Amble _and_ Furnice. + +_Enter_ Marall _and_ Wellborn. + +_Order._ You were long since expected. +Most welcome, sir. + +_Wellb._ Say so much +To my friend, I pray you. + +_Order._ For your sake, I will, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Mar._ For his sake! + +_Wellb._ Mum! this is nothing. + +_Mar._ More than ever +I would have believed, though I had found it in my primer. + +_Allw._ When I have given you reasons for my late harshness, +You'll pardon, and excuse me: for, believe me; +Tho' now I part abruptly in my service, +I will deserve it. + +_Mar._ Service! with a vengeance! + +_Wellb._ I am satisfied: farewell, Tom. + +_Allw._ All joy stay with you. + +[_Exit_ Allworth. + +_Enter_ Amble. + +_Amble._ You are happily encounter'd: I never yet +Presented one so welcome, as I know +You will be to my lady. + +_Mar._ This is some vision; +Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dung-hill; +It cannot be a truth. + +_Wellb._ Be still a pagan, +An unbelieving infidel; be so, miscreant, +And meditate on blankets, and on dog-whips. + +_Enter_ Furnace. + +_Fur._ I am glad you are come; until I know your pleasure, +I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner. + +_Mar._ His pleasure! is it possible? [_Aside._ + +_Wellb._ What's thy will? + +_Fur._ Marry, sir, I have some growse and turkey chicken, +Some rails and quails; and my lady will'd me to ask you, +What kind of sauces best affect your palate, +That I may use my utmost skill to please it. + +_Mar._ The devil's enter'd this cook: sauce for his palate! +That on my knowledge, for a most this twelve-month, +Durst wish but cheese-parings, and brown bread on Sundays. + +_Wellb._ That way I like them best. + +_Fur._ It shall be done, sir. [_Exit_ Furnace. + +_Wellb._ What think you of the hedge we shall dine under? +Shall we feed gratis? + +_Mar._ I know not what to think: +Pray you, make me not mad. + +_Enter_ Order. + +_Order._ This place becomes you not: +'Pray you, walk sir, to the dining room. + +_Wellb._ I am well here, +Till her ladyship quits her chamber. + +_Mar._ Well here, say you! +'Tis a rare change! but yesterday, you thought +Yourself well in a barn, wrapp'd up in pease-straw. + +_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid. + +_Wom._ O sir, you are wish'd for. + +_Chamb._ My lady dreamt, sir, of you. + +_Wom._ And the first command she gave +After she rose, was to give her notice +When you approached here. + +_Order._ Sir, my lady. + +_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth.--_Salutes him._ + +_Lady A._ I come to meet you, and languished till I saw you. +This first kiss for form: I allow a second, +As token of my friendship. + +_Mar._ Heaven bless me! + +_Wellb._ I am wholly yours; yet, madam, if you please +To grace this gentleman with a salute---- + +_Mar._ Salute me at his bidding! + +_Wellb._ I shall receive it +As a most high favour. [_To_ Marall. + +_Lady A._ Sir, your friends are welcome to me. + +_Wellb._ Run backward from a lady! and such a lady! + +_Mar._ To kiss her foot, is to poor me, a favour +I am unworthy of. [_Offers to kiss her Foot._ + +_Lady A._ Nay, pray you rise; +And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you: +You shall dine with me to-day at mine own table. + +_Mar._ Your ladyship's table! I am not good enough +To sit at your steward's. + +_Lady A._ You are too modest: +I will not be denied. + +_Enter_ Order. + +_Order._ Dinner is ready for your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ Your arm, Mr. Wellborn: +Nay, keep us company. + +_Mar._ I was never so grac'd. Mercy on me! + +[_Exeunt_ Wellborn, Lady Allworth, Amble, _and_ Marall. + +_Enter_ Furnace. + +_Order._ So, we have play'd our parts, and are come off well. +But if I know the mystery, why my lady +Consented to it, or why Mr. Wellborn +Desir'd it, may I perish! + +_Fur._ 'Would I had +The roasting of his heart, that cheated him, +And forces the poor gentleman to these shifts! +Of all the griping and extorting tyrants +I ever heard or read of, I never met +A match to Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Watch._ What will you take +To tell him so, fellow Furnace? + +_Fur._ Just as much +As my throat is worth, for that would be the price on't. +To have a usurer that starves himself, +And wears a cloak of one and twenty years +On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the hangman, +To grow rich, is too common: +But this Sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants, +Who must at his command do any outrage; +Rich in his habit; vast in his expenses; +Yet he to admiration still increases +In wealth and lordships. + +_Order._ He frights men out of their estates, +And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb ill men, +As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him. +Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never +Lodg'd so unluckily. + +_Enter_ Amble. + +_Amble._ Ha! ha! I shall burst. + +_Order._ Contain thyself, man. + +_Fur._ Or make us partakers +Of your sudden mirth. + +_Amble._ Ha! ha! my lady has got +Such a guest at her table, this term-driver, Marall, +This snip of an attorney. + +_Fur._ What of him, man? + +_Amble._ The knave stinks, and feeds so slovenly! + +_Fur._ Is this all? + +_Amble._ My lady +Drank to him for fashion's sake, or to please Mr. Wellborn, +As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish, +In which there were some remnants of a boil'd capon, +And pledges her in white broth. +And when I brought him wine, +He leaves his chair, and after a leg or two, +Most humbly thanks my worship. + +_Order._ Rose already! + +_Amble._ I shall be chid. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth, Wellborn, _and_ Marall. + +_Fur._ My lady frowns. + +_Lady A._ You attended us well. +Let me have no more of this: I observ'd your leering. +Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy +To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean, +When I am present, is not your companion. + +_Order._ Nay, she'll preserve what's due to her. + +_Lady A._ You are master +Of your own will. I know so much of manners +As not to inquire your purposes; in a word, +To me you are ever welcome, as to a house +That is your own. + +_Wellb._ Mark that. + +_Mar._ With reverence, sir, +And it like your worship. + +_Wellb._ Trouble yourself no farther, +Dear madam; my heart's full of zeal and service. +However in my language I am sparing. +Come, Mr. Marall. + +_Mar._ I attend your worship. + +[_Exeunt_ Wellborn _and_ Marall. + +_Lady A._ I see in your looks you are sorry, and you know me +An easy mistress: be merry! I have forgot all. +Order and Furnace, come with me; I must give you +Farther directions. [_Exit._ + +_Order._ What you please. + +_Fur._ We are ready. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Country._ + +_Enter_ Wellborn _and_ Marall. + +_Wellb._ I think I am in a good way. + +_Mar._ Good sir, the best way; +The certain best way. + +_Wellb._ There are casualties +That men are subject to. + +_Mar._ You are above 'em: +As you are already worshipful, +I hope, ere long, you will increase in worship, +And be right worshipful. + +_Wellb._ Pr'thee do not flout me, +What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your ease, +You keep your hat off. + +_Mar._ Ease, and it like your worship! +I hope Jack Marall shall not live so long, +To prove himself such an unmannerly beast, +Though it hail hazel nuts, as to be covered, +When your worship's present. + +_Wellb._ Is not this a true rogue, [_Aside._ +That out of mere hope of a future coz'nage +Can turn thus suddenly? 'tis rank already. + +_Mar._ I know your worship's wise, and needs no counsel: +Yet if in my desire to do you service, +I humbly offer my advice (but still +Under correction), I hope I shall not +Incur your high displeasure. + +_Wellb._ No; speak freely. + +_Mar._ Then in my judgment, sir, my simple judgment, +(Still with your worship's favour) I could wish you +A better habit, for this cannot be +But much distasteful to the noble lady +That loves you: I have twenty pounds here, +Which, out of my true love, I presently +Lay down at your worship's feet; 'twill serve to buy you +A riding suit. + +_Wellb._ But Where's the horse? + +_Mar._ My gelding +Is at your service: nay, you shall ride me, +Before your worship shall be put to the trouble +To walk a-foot. Alas! when you are lord +Of this lady's manor (as I know you will be), +You may with the lease of glebe land, +Requite your vassal. + +_Wellb._ I thank thy love; but must make no use of it. +What's twenty pounds? + +_Mar._ 'Tis all that I can make, sir. + +_Wellb._ Dost thou think, though I want clothes, I could not have 'em, +For one word to my lady? + +_Mar._ As I know not that-- + +_Wellb._ Come, I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave thee. +I'll not give her the advantage, tho' she be +A gallant-minded lady, after we are married +To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forc'd +To buy my wedding clothes, +Or took me with a plain suit, and an ambling nag, +No, I'll be furnish'd something like myself. +And so farewell; for thy suit touching the glebe land, +When it is mine, 'tis thine. + +_Mar._ I thank your worship. [_Exit_ Wellborn. +How was I cozen'd in the calculation +Of this man's fortune! my master cozen'd too, +Whose pupil I am in the art of undoing men; +For that is our profession. Well, well, Mr. Wellborn, +You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be cheated: +Which, if the fates please, when you are possess'd +Of the land and lady, you, sans question, shall be. +I'll presently think of the means. + +[_Walks by, musing._ + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +_Sir G._ Sirrah, take my horse; +I'll walk to get me an appetite. 'Tis but a mile; +And exercise will keep me from being pursy. +Ha! Marall! is he conjuring? Perhaps +The knave has wrought the prodigal to do +Some outrage on himself, and now he feels +Compunction in his conscience for't: no matter, +So it be done. Marall! + +_Mar._ Sir! + +_Sir G._ How succeed we +In our plot on Wellborn? + +_Mar._ Never better, sir. + +_Sir G._ Has he hang'd, or drown'd himself? + +_Mar._ No sir, he lives, +Lives once more to be made a prey to you: +And greater prey than ever. + +_Sir G._ Art thou in thy wits? +If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly. + +_Mar._ A lady, sir, has fall'n in love with him. + +_Sir G._ With him! What lady? + +_Mar._ The rich Lady Allworth. + +_Sir G._ Thou dolt! how darst thou speak this? + +_Mar._ I speak true; +And I do so but once a year: unless +It be to you, sir. We din'd with her ladyship: +I thank his worship. + +_Sir G._ His worship! + +_Mar._ As I live, sir, +I din'd with him, at the great lady's table, +Simple as I stand here; and saw when she kiss'd him; +And, at his request, welcom'd me too. + +_Sir G._ Why, thou rascal, +To tell me these impossibilities: +Dine at her table! and kiss him! +Impudent varlet! Have not I myself, +To whom great countesses' doors have oft flown open, +Ten times attempted, since her husband's death, +In vain to see her, tho' I came--a suitor? +And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Wellborn, +Were brought into her presence, feasted with her. +But that I know thee a dog that cannot blush, +This most incredible lie would call up one into +Thy cheeks. + +_Mar._ Shall I not trust my eyes, sir? +Or taste? I feel her good cheer in my belly. + +_Sir G._ You shall feel me, if you give not over, sirrah! +Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd +With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids +Of serving men; and chambermaids; for, beyond these, +Thou never saw'st a woman; or, I'll quit you +From my employments. + +_Mar._ Will you credit this, yet? +On my confidence of their marriage, I offered Wellborn +(I would give a crown now, I durst say his worship [_Aside._ +My nag, and twenty pounds. + +_Sir G._ Did you so? [_Strikes him down._ +Was this the way to work him to despair, +Or rather to cross me? + +_Mar._ Will your worship kill me? + +_Sir G._ No, no; but drive the lying spirit out of you. + +_Mar._ He's gone. + +_Sir G._ I have done, then. Now forgetting +Your late imaginary feast and lady, +Know, my Lord Lovell dines with me tomorrow: +Be careful, not be wanting to receive him; +And bid my daughter's women trim her up, +Tho' they paint her, so she catch the lord, I'll thank 'em. +There's a piece for my late blows. + +_Mar._ I must yet suffer: +But there may be a time-- [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Do you grumble? + +_Mar._ O no, sir. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT. III. + + +SCENE I.--_The Country._ + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Allworth. + +_Lov._ Drive the carriage down the hill: something in private +I must impart to Allworth. + +_Allw._ O, my lord! +What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching; +Although I could put off the use of sleep, +And ever wait on your commands to serve 'em. +What danger, tho' in ne'er so horrid shapes, +Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it, +Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer: +But still the retribution will fall short +Of your bounties shower'd upon me. + +_Lov._ Loving youth, +Till what I purpose be put into act, +Do not o'erprize it: since you have trusted me +With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest secret, +Rest confident, 'tis in a cabinet lock'd, +Treachery shall never open. I have found you +More zealous in your love and service to me +Than I have been in my rewards. + +_Allw._ Still great ones, +Above my merit. You have been +More like a father to me than a master. +'Pray you pardon the comparison. + +_Lov._ I allow it; +And give you assurance I'm pleas'd in't. +My carriage and demeanour to your mistress. +Fair Margaret shall truly witness for me, +I can command my passion. + +_Allw._ 'Tis a conquest +Few lords can boast of when they are tempted--Oh! + +_Lov._ So young, and jealous! + +_Allw._ Were you to encounter with a single foe, +The victory were certain: but to stand +The charge of two such potent enemies, +At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty, +And those two seconded with power, is odds +Too great for Hurcules. +Hippolitus himself would leave Diana, +To follow such a Venus. + +_Lov._ Love hath made you +Poetical, Allworth. +How far is it +To Overreach's? + +_Allw._ At the most, some half hour's riding; +You'll soon be there. + +_Lov._ And you the sooner freed +From your jealous fears. + +_Allw._ Oh that I durst but hope it! [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Hall in Sir Giles's house._ + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ Spare for no cost, let my dressers crack with the weight +Of curious viands. + +_Greedy._ Store indeed's no sore, sir. + +_Sir G._ That proverb fits your stomach, Mr. Greedy. + +_Greedy._ It does indeed, Sir Giles. +I do not like to see a table ill spread, +Poor, meager, just sprinkled o'er with salads, +Slic'd beef, giblets, and pigs' pettitoes. +But the substantials--Oh! Sir Giles the substantials! +The state of a fat Turkey now, +The decorum, the grandeur he marches in with. +Then his sauce, with oranges and onions, +O, I declare, I do much honour a chine of beef! +O lord! I do reverence a loin of veal! + +_Sir G._ You shall have your will, Mr. Greedy. +And let no plate be seen, but what's pure gold, +Or such, whose workmanship exceeds the matter +That it is made of; let my choicest linen +Perfume the room; and when we wash, the water +With precious powders mix, to please my lord, +That he may with envy wish to bathe so ever. + +_Mar._ 'Twill be very chargeable. + +_Sir G._ Avaunt, you drudge! +Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake, +Is't time to think of thrift? Call in my daughter. + +_Exit_ Marall. + +And, master of justice, since you love choice dishes, +And plenty of 'em---- + +_Greedy._ As I do indeed, sir. +Almost as much as to give thanks for 'em-- + +_Sir G._ I do confer that province, with my power +Of absolute command, to have abundance, +To your best care. + +_Greedy._ I'll punctually discharge it, +And give the best direction. [Sir Giles _retires_.]--Now am I, +In mine own conceit, a monarch, at the least, +Arch president of the boil'd, the roast, the baked; +I would not change my empire for the great Mogul's, +Mercy on me, how I lack food! my belly +Is grown together like an empty satchell. +What an excellent thing did Heaven bestow on man, +When she did give him a good stomach! +It is of all blessings much the greatest. +I will eat often and give thanks +When my belly's brac'd up like a drum, and that's pure justice. + +_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ It must be so. Should the foolish girl prove modest, +She may spoil all; she had it not from me, +But from her mother: I was ever forward, +As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare her. Margaret! + +_Enter_ Margaret. + +_Marg._ Your pleasure, sir? + +_Sir G._ Ha! this is a neat dressing! +These orient pearls, and diamonds well plac'd too! +The gown affects me not; it should have been +Embroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold; +But these rich jewels and quaint fashion help it. +How like you your new woman, the Lady Downfall'n! + +_Marg._ Well for a companion: +Not as a servant. + +_Sir G._ Is she humble, Meg? +And careful too, her ladyship forgotten? + +_Marg._ I pity her fortune. + +_Sir G._ Pity her! trample on her. +I took her up in an old tatter'd gown +(E'en starv'd for want of food), to serve thee; +And if I understand she but repines +To do thee any duty, though ne'er so servile, +I'll pack her to her knight, where I have lodg'd him, +In the country, and there let them howl together. + +_Marg._ You know your own ways; but for me, I blush +When I command her that was once attended +With persons not inferior to myself +In birth. + +_Sir G._ In birth! Why, art thou not my daughter, +The blest child of my industry and wealth? +Why, foolish girl, was't not to make thee great, +That I have run, and still pursue those ways +That hale down curses on me, which I mind not? +Part with these humble thoughts, and apt thyself +To the noble state I labour to advance thee; +Or, by my hopes to see thee honourable, +I will adopt a stranger to my heir, +And throw thee from my care; do not provoke me. + +_Marg._ I will not, sir; mould me which way +you please. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Sir G._ How! interrupted? + +_Greedy._ 'Tis matter of importance. +The cook, sir, is self-will'd, and will not learn +From my experience. There's a fawn brought in, sir, +And for my life, I cannot make him roast it +With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it: +And, sir, we wise men know, without the dumpling +'Tis not worth three pence. + +_Sir G._ 'Would it were whole in thy belly, +To stuff it out; cook it any way--pr'ythee, leave me. + +_Greedy._ Without order for the dumpling? + +_Sir. G._ Let it be dumpled +Which way thou wilt: or, tell him I will scald him +In his own cauldron. + +_Greedy._ I had lost my stomach, +Had I lost my mistress's dumpling; I'll give ye thanks for't. + +_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ But to our business, Meg; you have heard who dines here? + +_Marg._ I have, sir. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis an honourable man. +A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment +Of soldiers; and what's rare, is one himself; +A bold and understanding one; and to be +A lord, and a good leader in one volume, +Is granted unto few, but such as rise up, +The kingdom's glory. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Greedy._ I'll resign my office, +If I be not better obey'd. + +_Sir G._ 'Slight, art thou frantic? + +_Greedy._ Frantic! 'twould make me frantic and stark mad, +Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too, +Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw for. +There are a dozen of woodcocks, +For which he has found out +A new device for sauce, and will not dish 'em +With toast and butter. + +_Sir G._ Cook, rogue, obey him. +I have given the word, pray you, now, remove yourself +To a collar of brawn, and trouble me no farther. + +_Greedy._ I will; and meditate what to eat at dinner, +For my guts have been in the kitchen this half hour. [_Exit._ + +_Sir G._ And, as I said, Meg, when this gull disturb'd us, +This honourable lord, this colonel, +I would have thy husband. + +_Marg._ There's too much disparity +Between his quality and mine, to hope it. + +_Sir G._ I more than hope it, and doubt not to effect it. +Be thou no enemy to thyself; my wealth +Shall weigh his titles down, and make you equals. +Now for the means to assure him thine, observe me; +Remember he's a courtier, and a soldier, +And not to be trifled with; and therefore, when +He comes to woo you, see you do not coy it. +This mincing modesty hath spoil'd many a match +By a first refusal, in vain after hop't for. + +_Marg._ You'll have me, sir, preserve the distance that +Confines a virgin? + +_Sir G._ Virgin me no virgins. +I will have you lose that name, or you lose me; +I will have you private; start not, I say, private. + +_Marg._ Though you can dispense +With your honour, I must guard my own. +This is not the way to make me his wife. +My modest breeding yielded up so soon, +Cannot but assure him, +I, that am light to him, will not hold weight +When tempted by others: so in judgment, +When to his will I have given up my honour, +He must, and will, forsake me. + +_Sir G._ How! forsake thee? +Do I wear a sword for fashion? or is this arm +Shrunk up, or wither'd? Does there live a man +Of that large list I have encounter'd with, +Can truly say I e'er gave inch of ground, +Not purchas'd with his blood that did oppose me? +Forsake thee when the thing is done! he dares not. +Though all his captains, echoes to his will, +Stood arm'd by his side, to justify the wrong, +Spite of his lordship, I will make him render +A bloody and a strict account; and force him, +By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour; +I have said it. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +_Mar._ Sir, the man of honour's come, +Newly alighted. + +_Sir G._ In, without reply, +And do as I command, or thou art lost. + +_Exit_ Margaret. + +Is the loud music, I gave order for, +Ready to receive him? + +_Mar._ 'Tis, sir. + +_Sir G._ Let 'em sound +A princely welcome. [_Exit_ Marall.) Roughness awhile leave me; +For fawning now, a stranger to my nature, +Must make way for me. + +_Enter_ Lovell, Allworth, Marall, _and_ Greedy. + +_Lov._ Sir, you meet your trouble. + +_Sir G._ What you are pleased to style so is an honour +Above my worth and fortunes. + +_Allw._ Strange! so humble. + +_Sir G._ A justice of peace, my lord. + +[_Presents_ Greedy to _him_. + +_Lov._ Your hand, good sir. + +_Greedy._ This is a lord; and some think this is a favour; +But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Room for my lord. + +_Lov._ I miss, sir, your fair daughter, +To crown my welcome. + +_Sir G._ May it please my lord +To taste a glass of Greek wine first; and suddenly +She shall attend my lord. + +_Lov._ You'll be obey'd, sir. + +[_Exeunt all but_ Sir Giles. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis to my wish; as soon as come, ask for her! +Why, Meg! Meg Overreach! + +_Enter_ Margaret. + +How! Tears in your eyes? +Hah! dry 'em quickly, or I'll dig 'em out. +Is this a time to whimper? Meet that greatness +That flies into thy bosom; think what tis +For me to say, my honourable daughter: +No more but be instructed, or expect-- +He comes. + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Greedy. + +A black-brow'd girl, my lord. + +_Lov._ As I live, a rare one! + +_Sir G._ That kiss +Came twanging off, I like it: quit the room. + +_Exit_ Greedy. + +A little bashful, my good lord: but you, +I hope, will teach her boldness. + +_Lov._ I am happy +In such a scholar: but---- + +_Sir G._ I am past learning, +And therefore leave you to yourselves: remember-- + +_Exit_ Sir Giles. + +_Lov._ You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous +To have you change the barren name of virgin +Into a hopeful wife. + +_Marg._ His haste, my lord, +Holds no power o'er my will. + +_Lov._ But o'er your duty---- + +_Marg._ Which forc'd too much may break. + +_Lov._ Bend rather, sweetest: +Think of your years. + +_Marg._ Too few to match with yours: + +_Lov._ Do you think I am old? + +_Marg._ I am sure, I am too young. + +_Lov._ I can advance you. + +_Marg._ To a hill of sorrow; +Where every hour I may expect to fall, +But never hope firm footing. You are noble; +I of low descent, however rich. +O my good lord, I could say more, but that +I dare not trust these walls. + +_Lov._ 'Pray you, trust my ear, then. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, _listening_. + +_Sir G._ Close at it! whispering! this is excellent! +And, by their postures, a consent on both parts. + +_Enter_ Greedy. + +_Greedy._ Sir Giles! Sir Giles! + +_Sir G._ The great fiend stop that clapper! + +_Greedy._ It must ring out, sir, when my belly rings noon. +The bak'd meats are ran out, the roast turn'd powder. + +_Sir G._ Stop your insatiate jaws, or +I shall powder you. + +_Greedy._ Beat me to dust, I care not; +In such a cause as this I'll die martyr. + +_Sir G._ Disturb my lord, when he is in discourse? + +_Greedy._ Is't a time to talk +When we should have been munching? + +_Sir G._ Peace, villain! peace! shall we break a bargain +Almost made up? Vanish I say. + +_Thrusts_ Greedy _off_. + +_Lov._ Lady, I understand you: Overreach. +Rest most happy in your choice. Believe it, +I'll be a careful pilot to direct +Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety. + +_Marg._ So shall your honour save two lives, and bind us +Your slaves forever. + +_Lov._ I am in the act rewarded, +Since it is good; howe'er you must put on +An amorous carriage towards me, to delude +Your subtle father. + +_Marg._ I am bound to that. + +_Lov._ Now break off our conference,--Sir Giles +Where is Sir Giles? + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, Greedy, Allworth, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ My noble lord; and how +Does your lordship find her? + +_Lov._ Apt, Sir Giles, and coming, +And I like her the better. + +_Sir G._ So do I too. + +_Lov._ Yet, should we take forts at the first assault, +'Twere poor in the defendant. I must confirm her? +With a love-letter or two, which I must have +Deliver'd by my page, and you give way to't. + +_Sir G._ With all my soul.--A towardly gentleman! +Your hand, good Mr. Allworth; know my house +Is ever open to you. + +_Allw._ 'Twas still shut till now. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Well done, well done, my honourable daughter, +Thou'rt so already: know this gentle youth, +And cherish him, my honourable daughter. + +_Sir G._ What noise? + +_Greedy._ More stops +Before we go to dinner! O my guts! + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth _and_ Wellborn. + +_Lady. A._ If I find welcome, +You share in it; if not, I'll back again, +Now I know your ends! for I come arm'd for all +Can be objected. + +_Lov._ How! the Lady Allworth? + +_Sir G._ And thus attended! + +_Mar._ No, I am a dolt; +the spirit of lies had entered me! + +Lovell _salutes_ Lady Allworth, _who salutes_ Margaret. + +_Sir G._ Peace, patch, +'Tis more than wonder, an astonishment +That does possess me wholly. + +_Lov._ Noble Lady, +This is a favour to prevent my visit, +The service of my life can never equal. + +_Lady A._ My lord, I laid wait for you, and much hop'd +You would have made my poor house your first inn: +And therefore, doubting that you might forget me, +Or too long dwell here, having such ample cause, +In this unequal beauty, for your stay; +And fearing to trust any but myself +With the relation of my service to you, +I borrow'd so much from my long restraint, +And took the air in person to invite you. + +_Lov._ Your bounties are so great, they rob me, madam, +Of words to give you thanks. + +_Lady A._ Good Sir Giles Overreach! [_Salutes him._ +How dost thou, Marall? Lik'd you my meat so ill, +You'll dine no more with me? + +_Greedy._ I will when you please, +And it like your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ When you please, Mr. Greedy; +If meat can do it, you shall be satisfied; +And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge +This gentleman; howe'er his outside's coarse, + +_Presents_ Wellborn. + +His inward linings are as fine and fair +As any man's. Wonder not I speak at large: +And howsoe'er his humour carries him +To be thus accoutr'd; or what taint soe'er, +For his wild life has stuck upon his fame; +He may, ere long, with boldness rank himself +With some that have condemn'd him. Sir Giles Overreach, +If I am Welcome, bid him so. + +_Sir G._ My nephew! +He hath been too long a stranger: 'faith you have. +Pray let it be mended. + +[Lovell _conferring with_ Wellborn. + +_Mar._ Why, sir, what do you mean? +This is rogue Wellborn, monster, prodigy, +That should hang or drown himself, no man of worship, +Much less your nephew. + +_Sir G._ Well, sirrah, we shall reckon +For this hereafter. + +_Mar._ I'll not lose my jeer, +Though I be beaten dead for it. + +_Wellb._ Let my silence plead +In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure +Offer itself, to hear a full relation +Of my poor fortunes. + +_Lov._ I would hear and help them. [_Bell rings._ + +_Sir G._ Your dinner waits you. + +_Lov._ 'Pray you, lead, we follow. + +_Lady A._ Nay, you are my guest? Come, dear +Mr. Wellborn. [_Exeunt all but Greedy._ + +_Greedy._ Dear Mr. Wellborn! so she said; Heav'n! aven! +If my belly would give me leave, I could ruminate +All day on this: I have granted twenty warrants +To have him committed, from all prisons in the shire, +To Nottingham jail! and now, dear Mr. Wellborn! +And my good nephew!--But I play the fool +To stand here prating, and forget my dinner. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +Are they set, Marall? + +_Mar._ Long since; pray you a word, sir. + +_Greedy._ No wording now. + +_Mar._ In troth, I must: my master, +Knowing you are his good friend, makes bold with you, +And does entreat you, more guests being come in +Than he expected, especially his nephew, +The table being too full, you would excuse him, +And sup with him on the cold meat. + +_Greedy._ How! no dinner +After all my care? + +_Mar._ 'Tis but a penance for +A meal; besides, you have broke your fast. + +_Greedy._ That was +But a bit to stay my stomach. A man in commission +Give place to a tatterdemallion! + +_Mar._ No big words, sir. +Should his worship hear you---- + +_Greedy._ Loose my dumpling too; +And butter'd toasts and woodcocks? + +_Mar._ Come, have patience, +If you will dispense a little with your justiceship, +And sit with the waiting woman, you'll have dumpling, +Woodcock, and butter'd toasts too. + +_Greedy._ This revives me: +I will gorge there sufficiently. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach, _as from dinner._ + +_Sir G._ She's caught! O woman! she neglect my lord, +And all her compliments apply to Wellborn! +The garment of her widowhood laid by, +She now appears as glorious as the spring. +Her eyes fix'd on him; in the wine she drinks, +He being her pledge, she sends him burning kisses, +She leaves my meat to feed upon his looks; +And, if in our discourse he be but nam'd, +From her a deep sigh follows. But why grieve I +At this? It makes for me; if she prove his, +All that is hers, is mine, as I will work him. + +_Enter_ Marall. + +_Mar._ Sir, the whole board is troubled at your rising. + +_Sir G._ No matter, I'll excuse it; pr'ythee, Marall, +watch an occasion to invite my nephew +To speak with me in private. + +_Mar._ Who, the rogue, +The lady scorn'd to look on? + +_Sir G._ Hold your peace! +My good lord, +Excuse my manners. + +_Enter_ Lovell, Margaret, _and_ Allworth. + +_Lov._ There needs none, Sir Giles; +I may ere long say father, when it please +My dearest mistress to give warrant to it. + +_Sir G._ She shall seal to it my lord, and make me happy. + +_Marg._ My lady-- + +_Enter_ Wellborn _and_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ My thanks, Sir Giles, +for my entertainment. + +_Sir G._ 'Tis your nobleness +To think it such. + +_Lady A._ I must do you a farther wrong, +In taking away your honourable guest. + +_Lov._ I wait on you, madam: farewell good Sir Giles. + +_Lady A._ Nay, come, Mr. Wellborn, +I must not leave you behind, in sooth, I must not. + +_Sir G._ Rob me not, madam, of all joys at once. +Let my nephew stay behind: he shall have my coach, +And, after some small conference between us, +Soon overtake your ladyship. + +_Lady A._ Stay not long, sir. + +_Lov._ You shall every day hear from me, +By my faithful page. [_To_ Margaret. + +_Allw._'Tis a service I am proud of. + +[_Exeunt_ Lovell, Lady Allworth, Allworth, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ Daughter, to your chamber. + +[_Exit_ Margaret. + +You may wonder, nephew, +After so long an enmity between us, +I shall desire your friendship. + +_Wellb._ So I do, sir: +Tis strange to me. + +_Sir G._ But I'll make it no wonder; +And, what is more, unfold my nature to you. +We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen, +Past hope, sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand +To lift 'em up, but rather set our feet +Upon their heads, to press 'em to the bottom; +As I must yield, with you I practis'd it: +But now I see you in a way to rise, +I can and will, assist you. This rich lady +(And I am glad of't) is enamour'd of you. + +_Wellb._ No such thing: +Compassion, rather, sir. + +_Sir G._ Well, in a word, +Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen +No more in this base shape; nor shall she say, +She married you like a beggar, or in debt. + +_Wellb._ He'll run into the noose, and save my labour! [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ You have a trunk of rich clothes, not far hence, +In pawn; I will redeem 'em: and, that no clamour +May taint your credit for your debts, +You shall have a thousand pounds to cut 'em off, +And go a freeman to the wealthy lady. + +_Wellb._ This done, sir, out of love, and no ends else-- + +_Sir G._ As it is, nephew. + +_Wellb._ Binds me still your servant. + +_Sir G._ No compliments; you are staid for: ere you've supp'd, +You shall hear from me. My coach, knaves! for my nephew: +Tomorrow I will visit you. + +_Wellb._ Here's an uncle +In a man's extremes? how much they do belie you, +That say you are hard hearted! + +_Sir G._ My deeds, nephew, +Shall speak my love; what men report, I weigh not. + +[_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE I--_A Chamber_ in Lady Allworth's _House_. + +Lovell _and_ Allworth _discovered_. + +_Lov._ 'Tis well. I now discharge you +From farther service. Mind your own affairs; +I hope they will prove successful. + +_Allw._ What is blest +With your good wish, my lord, cannot but prosper. +Let after-times report, and to your honour, +How much I stand engag'd; for I want language +To speak my debt: yet if a tear or two +Of joy, for your much goodness, can supply +My tongue's defects, I could---- + +_Lov._ Nay, do not melt: +This ceremonial of thanks to me's superfluous. + +_Sir G._ [_Within._] Is my lord stirring? + +_Lov._ 'Tis he! Oh, here's your letter; let him in. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles, Greedy, _and_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ A good day to my lord. + +_Lov._ You are an early riser, Sir Giles. + +_Sir G._ And reason, to attend to your lordship. + +_Lov._ And you too, Mr. Greedy, up so soon? + +_Greedy._ In troth, my lord, after the sun is up +I cannot sleep; for I have a foolish stomach, +That croaks for breakfast. With your lordship's favour, +I have a serious question to demand +Of my worthy friend, Sir Giles. + +_Lov._ Pray you, use your pleasure. + +_Greedy._ How far, Sir Giles, and 'pray you, answer me +Upon your credit, hold you it to be, +From your manor-house, to this of my Lady Allworth's? + +_Sir G._ Why, some four miles. + +_Greedy._ How! four miles, good Sir Giles? +Upon your reputation think better; +For four miles riding +Could not have rais'd so huge an appetite +As I feel gnawing on me. + +_Mar._ Whether you ride +Or go a-foot, you are that way still provided, +And it please your worship. + +_Sir G._ How now, sirrah! prating +Before my lord! no difference? go to my nephew, +See all his debts discharged, and help his worship +To fit on his rich suit. + +_Mar._ I may fit you too. [_Exit_ Marall. + +_Lov._ I have writ this morning +A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter. + +_Sir G._ Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already. +Sweet Mr. Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry +To her presence, I warrant you; and there plead +For my good lord, if you shall find occasion. +That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a license, +Still, by this token. I'll have it despatch'd, +And suddenly, my lord: that I may say, +My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter. + +_Greedy._ Take my advice, young gentleman; get your breakfast. +'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting. I'll eat with you; +And that abundantly. + +_Sir G._ Some fury's in that gut: +Hungry again? Did you not devour this morning +A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester oysters? + +_Greedy._ Why, that was, sir, only to scour my stomach, +A kind of preparative. +I am no camelion, to feed on air; but love +To see the board well spread, +Groaning under the heavy burden of the beast +That cheweth the cud, and the fowl +That cleaveth the air. Come, young gentleman, +I will not have you feed alone, while I am here. + +_Lov._ Haste your return. + +_Allw._ I will not fail, my lord. + +_Greedy._ Nor I, to line +My Christmas coffer. + +[_Exeunt_ Greedy _and_ Allworth. + +_Sir G._ To my wish, we're private, +I come not to make offer with my daughter +A certain portion; that were poor and trivial: +In one word, I pronounce all that is mine, +In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods, +With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have +One motive to induce you to believe +I live too long, since every year I'll add +Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too. + +_Lov._ You are a right kind father. + +_Sir G._ You shall have reason +To think me such. How do you like this seat? +It is well wooded, and well water'd, the acres +Fertile and rich; would it not serve for change, +To entertain your friends in a summer's progress? +What thinks my noble lord? + +_Lov._ 'Tis a wholesome air, +And well built; and she, that's mistress of it, +Worthy the large revenue. + +_Sir G._ She the mistress? +It may be so for a time; but let my lord +Say only, that he but like it, and would have it, +I say, ere long 'tis his. + +_Lov._ Impossible! + +_Sir G._ You do conclude too fast, not knowing me, +Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone +The lady Allworth's lands; for those, once Wellborn's +(As by her dotage on him I know they will be,) +Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's +In all the shire, and say they lie convenient, +And useful for your lordship, and once more +I say aloud, they are yours. + +_Lov._ I dare not own +What's by unjust and cruel means extorted. +My fame and credit are more dear to me, +Than to expose 'em to be censur'd by +The public voice. + +_Sir G._ You run, my lord, no hazard; +Your reputation, shall stand as fair +In all good men's opinions, as now: +Nor can my actions, though condemned for ill, +Cast any foul aspersion upon yours. +For though I do contemn report myself, +As a mere sound; I still will be so tender +Of what concerns you in all points of honour, +That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, +Nor your unquestioned integrity, +Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot; +All my ambition is to have my daughter +Right honourable, which my lord can make her: +And might I live to dance upon my knee +A young Lord Lovell, born by her unto you, +I write _nil ultra_ to my proudest hopes. + +_Lov._ Are you not frightened with the imprecations +And curses of whole families, made wretched +By such practices? + +_Sir G._ Yes, as rocks are, +When foamy billows split themselves against +Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is mov'd, +When wolves, with hunger pin'd, howl at her brightness. +I am of a solid temper, and like these +Steer on a constant course: with mine own sword, +If called into the field, I can make that right, +Which fearful enemies murmur'd at as wrong. +Nay, when my ears are pierc'd with widow's cries. +And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold, +I only think what 'tis, to have my daughter +Right Honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm, +Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, +Or the least sting of conscience. +In one word, therefore, +Is it a match my lord? + +_Lov._ I hope that is past doubt now. + +_Sir G._ Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind here, +Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter, +Shall make me study aught but your advancement +One story higher. An earl! if gold can do it. +Dispute not my religion, nor my faith, +Though I am borne thus headlong to my will; +You may make choice of what belief you please, +To me thy are equal; so, my lord, good morrow. + +[_Exit._ + +_Lov._ He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear +Such a monster! I, that have liv'd a soldier, +And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted, +To hear this horrid beast, I'm bath'd all over +In a cold sweat; yet, like a mountain, he +Is no more shaken than Olympus is, +When angry Boreas loads his double head +With sudden drifts of snow. + +_Enter_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ 'Save you, my lord. +Disturb I not your privacy? + +_Lov._ No, good madam; +For your own sake, I am glad you came no sooner. +Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Overreach, +Made such a plain discovery of himself, +And read this morning such a devilish mattins. +That I should think it a sin, next to his, +But to repeat it. + +_Lady A._ I ne'er press'd, my lord, +On others privacies; yet, against my will, +Walking, for health's sake, in the gallery +Adjoining to our lodgings, I was made +(So loud and vehement he was) partaker +Of his tempting offers. But, +My good lord, If I may use my freedom, +As to an honour'd friend---- + +_Lov._ You lessen else +Your favour to me. + +_Lady A._ I dare then say thus: +(However common men +Make sordid wealth the object and sole end +Of their industrious aims), 'twill not agree +With those of noble blood, of fame and honour. + +_Lov._ Madam, 'tis confess'd; +But what infer you from it? + +_Lady A._ This, my lord: I allow +The heir of Sir Giles Overreach, Margaret, +A maid well qualified, and the richest match +Our north part can boast of; yet she cannot, +With all she brings with her fill their mouths, +That never will forget who was her father; +Or that my husband Allworth's lands, and Wellborn's, +(How wrung from both needs no repetition,) +Were real motives, that more work'd your lordship +To join your families, than her form and virtues. +You may conceive the rest. + +_Lov._ I do, sweet madam; +And long since have consider'd it. +And this my resolution, mark me, madam; +Were Overreach's 'states thrice centupled; his daughter +Millions of degrees much fairer than she is, +I would not so adulterate my blood +By marrying Margaret. In my own tomb +I will inter my name first. + +_Lady A._ Why then, my lord, pretend you marriage to her? +Dissimulation but ties false knots +On that straight line, by which you hitherto +Have measured all your actions. + +_Lov._ I make answer, +And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have you, +That since your husband's death have liv'd a strict +And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given yourself +To visits and entertainments? Think you, madam, +'Tis not grown public conference? or the favours +Which you too prodigally have thrown on Wellborn, +Incur not censure? + +_Lady A._ I am innocent here; and, on my life, I swear +My ends are good. + +_Lov._ On my soul, so are mine +To Margaret; but leave both to the event: +And now this friendly privacy does serve +But as an offer'd means unto ourselves +To search each other farther; you have shown +Your care of me, I my respect to you. +Deny me not, but still in chaste words, madam, +An afternoon's discourse. + +_Lady A._ Affected modesty might deny your suit, +But such your honour; I accept it, lord. +My tongue unworthy can't belie my heart. +I shall attend your lordship. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Landscape before_ Tapwell's _House_. + +_Enter_ Tapwell _and_ Froth. + +_Tap._ Undone, undone! this was your counsel, Froth. + +_Froth._ Mine! I defy thee: did not Master Marall +(He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command us +(On pain of Sir Giles Overreach's displeasure) +To turn the gentleman out of doors? + +_Tap._ 'Tis true; +But now he's his uncle's darling, and has got +Master Justice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly) +At his commandment to do any thing; +Wo, wo to us. + +_Froth._ He may prove merciful. + +_Tap._ Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands. +Though he knew all the passages of our house, +As the receiving of stolen goods; +When he was rogue Wellborn, no man would believe him, +And then his information could not hurt us: +But now he is right worshipful again. +Who dares but doubt his testimony? Methinks +I see thee, Froth, already in a cart, +And my hand hissing (if I 'scape the halter) +With the letter R printed upon it. + +_Froth._ 'Would that were the worst! +That were but nine days wonder: as for credit, +We have none to loose; but we shall lose the money +He owes us, and his custom; there's the worst on't. + +_Tap._ He has summon'd all his creditors by the drum, +And they swarm about him like so many soldiers +On the pay day; and has found such a new way +To pay his old debts, as, 'tis very likely, +He shall be chronicled for it. + +_Froth._ He deserves it +More than ten pageants. But are you sure his worship +Comes this way to my lady's? + +[_A Cry Within_, Brave Mr. Wellborn!] + +_Tap._ Yes, I hear him. + +_Froth._ Be ready with your petition, and present it +To his good grace. + +_Enter_ Wellborn, _in a rich Habit_; Greedy, Marall, Amble, Order, +Furnace, _and Three_ Creditors; Tapwell, _kneeling, delivers his Bill of +Debt_. + +_Wellb._ How's this! petitioned too? +But note what miracles the payment of +A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes, +Can work upon these rascals. I shall be, +I think, Prince Wellborn. + +_Mar._ When your worship's married, +You may be--I know what I hope to see you. + +_Wellb._ Then look thou for advancement. + +_Mar._ To be known +Your worship's bailiff, is the mark I shoot at. + +_Wellb._ And thou shalt hit it. + +_Mar._ Pray you, sir, despatch, +And for my admittance. + +[_In this Interim_, Tapwell _and_ Froth _flattering and bribing_ Justice +Greedy. + +(Provided you'll defend me from Sir Giles, +Whose service I am weary of) I'll say something +You shall give thanks for. + +_Wellb._ Fear him not. + +_Greedy._ Who, Tapwell? I remember thy wife brought me +Last new year's tide, a couple of fat turkeys. + +_Tap._ And shall do every Christmas, let your worship +But stand my friend now. + +_Greedy._ How! with Mr. Wellborn? +I can do any thing with him, on such terms---- +See you this honest couple? they are good souls +As ever drew out spigot; have they not +A pair of honest faces? + +_Wellb._ I o'erheard you, +And the bribe he promis'd; you are cozen'd in them; +For of all the scum that grew rich by my riots, +This for a most unthankful knave, and this +For a base quean, have worse deserv'd; +And therefore speak not for them. By your place, +You are rather to do me justice; lend me your ear, +Forget his turkeys, and call in his license, +And every season I will send you venison, +Shall feast a mayor and the corporation. + +_Greedy._ I am changed on the sudden +In my opinion----Mum! my passion is great! +I fry like a burnt marrowbone--Come nearer, rascal. +And now I view him better, did you e'er see +One look so like an arch knave? his very countenance, +Should an understanding judge but look upon him, +Would hang him, though he were innocent. + +_Tap and Froth._ Worshipful sir! + +_Greedy._ No; though the great Turk came instead of turkeys, +To beg my favour, I am inexorable. +Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's stomachs, +A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of bacon, +Or any esculent, as the learned call it, +For their emolument, but sheer drink only. +For which gross fault, I here do damn thy license, +Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw; +For instantly, I will, in mine own person, +Command the constable to pull down thy sign; +And do it before I eat. + +_Froth._ No mercy? + +_Greedy._ Vanish. +If I show any, may my promis'd venison choke me. + +_Tap._ Unthankful knaves are ever so rewarded. + +[_Exeunt_ Tapwell and _Froth_. + +_Wellb._ Speak; what are you? + +_1 Cred._ A decayed vintner, sir, +That might have thriv'd, but that your worship broke me, +With trusting you with muscadine and eggs, +And five pound suppers, with your after-drinkings, +When you lodged upon the bankside. + +_Wellb._ I remember. + +_1 Cred._ I have not been hasty, nor e'er laid to arrest you; +And therefore, sir---- + +_Wellb._ Thou art an honest fellow: +I'll set thee up again: see this bill paid. +What are you? + +_2 Cred._ A tailor once, but now mere botcher. +I gave you credit for a suit of clothes, +Which was all my stock; but you failing in payment, +I was remov'd from the shop-board, and confin'd +Under a stall. + +_Wellb._ See him paid; and botch no more. + +_2 Cred._ I ask no interest, sir. + +_Wellb._ Such tailors need not: +If their bills are paid in one and twenty years, +They are seldom losers. +See all men else discharg'd; +And since old debts are clear'd by a new way, +A little bounty will not misbecome me. +Pray you, on before. +I'll attend you at dinner. + +_Greedy._ For Heaven's sake, don't stay long; +It is almost ready. + +[_Exeunt_ Greedy, Order, Furnace Amble, _and_ Creditors. + +_Wellb._ Now, Mr. Marall, what's the weighty secret, +You promis'd to impart? + +_Mar._ Sir, time nor place +Allow me to relate each circumstance; +This only in a word: I know Sir Giles +Will come upon you for security +For his thousand pounds: which you must not consent to. +As he grows in heat (as I am sure he will) +Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt +Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land: +I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame) +When you were defeated of it. + +_Wellb._ That's forgiven. + +_Mar._ I shall deserve then----urge him to produce +The deed in which you pass'd it over to him, +Which I know he'll have about him to deliver +To the Lord Lovell. +I'll instruct you farther, +As I wait on your worship; if I play not my part +To your full content, and your uncle's much vexation, +Hang up Jack Marall. + +_Wellb._ I rely upon thee. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Chamber in_ Sir Giles's _House_. + +_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Allw._ Whether to yield the first praise to my lord's +Unequal'd temperance, or your constant sweetness, +I yet rest doubtful. + +_Marg._ Give it to Lord Lovell; +For what in him was bounty, in me's duty. +I make but payment of a debt, to which +My vows, in that high office register'd, +Are faithful witnesses. + +_Allw._ 'Tis true, my dearest; +Yet, when I call to mind, how many fair ones +Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths. +To fill the arms of greatness; +And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out, +Against the stern authority of a father, +And spurn at honour, when it comes to court you; +I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly +Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me. + +_Marg._ To me what's title when content is wanting? +Or wealth, when the heart pines +In being dispossess'd of what it longs for? +Or the smooth brow +Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will? +And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted +By my obedience, and he see me great, +Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power +To make her own election. + +_Allw._ But the dangers +That follow the repulse. + +_Marg._ To me they are nothing: +Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy. +Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me; +A tear or two by you drop'd on my hearse, +In sorrow for my fate, will call back life, +So far as but to say, that I die yours, +I then shall rest in peace. + +_Allw._ Heaven avert +Such trials of your true affection to me! +Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy, +Show so much rigour. But since we must run +Such desperate hazards, let us do our best +To steer between them. + +_Marg._ Lord Lovell is your friend; +And, though but a young actor, second me, +In doing to the life what he has plotted. + +_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach. + +The end may yet prove happy: now, my Allworth. + +_Allw._ To your letter, and put on a seeming anger. + +_Marg._ I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title, +And, when, with terms not taking from his honour +He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him: +But in this peremptory, nay, commanding, way, +T'appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge; +A priest to tie the knot, can ne'er be undone +Till death unloose it, is a confidence +In his lordship that will deceive him. + +_Allw._ I hope better, good lady. + +_Marg._ Hope, sir, what you please: for me, +I must take a safe and secure course; I have +A father, and without his full consent, +Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my favour, +I can grant nothing. + +_Sir G._ I like this obedience. +But whatsoever my lord writes, must and shall be +Accepted and embrac'd. [_Aside._]--Sweet Mr. Allworth, +You show yourself a true and faithful servant +To your good lord; he has a jewel of you. +How! frowning, Meg! are these looks to receive +A messenger from my lord? What's this? give me it. + +_Marg._ A piece of arrogant paper, like th'inscriptions. + +[Sir Giles _reads the letter_. + +Fair mistress, from your servant learn, all joys +That we can hope for, if deferr'd prove toys; +Therefore this instant, and in private, meet +A husband, that will gladly at your feet +Lay down his honours, tend'ring them to you +With all content, the church being paid her due. + +_Sir G._ Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool! +Will you still be one? In the name of madness, what +Could his good honour write more to content you? +Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two +That are already offer'd? +What would you more? + +_Marg._ Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter, +Not hurried away i'th' night, I know not whither, +Without all ceremony; no friends invited, +To honour the solemnity. + +_Allw._ An't please your honour, +(For so before tomorrow I must style you,) +My lord desires this privacy, in respect +His honourable kinsmen are far off, +And his desires to have it done brook not +So long delay as to expect their coming; +And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due pomp, +To have his marriage at court celebrated, +When he has brought your honour up to London. + +_Sir G._ He tells you true; 'tis the fashion on my knowledge: +Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness, +Must put it off, forsooth. + +_Marg._ I could be contented, +Were you but by, to do a father's part, +And give me in the church. + +_Sir G._ So my lord have you, +What do I care who gives you? since my lord +Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him. +I know not, Mr. Allworth, how my lord +May be provided, and therefore there's a purse +Of gold: 'twill serve this night's expense; tomorrow +I'll furnish him with any sums. In the meantime +Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed +At my manor of Gotham, and call'd Parson Welldo: +'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him out in't. + +_Marg._ With your favour, sir, what warrant is your ring? +He may suppose I got that twenty ways, +Without your knowledge; and then to be refus'd, +Were such a stain upon me--If you please, sir, +Your presence would be better. + +_Sir G._ Still perverse? +I say again, I will not cross my lord, +Yet I'll prevent you too--Paper and ink there. + +_Allw._ I can furnish you. + +_Sir G._ I thank you, I can write then. + +[_Writes on his Book._ + +_Allw._ You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord, +In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write, +Marry her to this gentleman. + +_Sir G._ Well advis'd. [Margaret _kneels_. +'Tis done: away--my blessing, girl? thou hast it. +Nay, no reply--begone, good Mr. Allworth; +This shall be the best night's work you ever made. + +_Allw._ I hope so, sir. + +[_Exeunt_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Sir G._ Farewell. Now all's cocksure. +Methinks I hear already knights and ladies +Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with +Your honourable daughter? has her honour +Slept well tonight? or, will her honour please +To accept this monkey, dog, or paroquet? +(This is state in ladies) or my eldest son +To be her page, to wait upon her?---- +My ends, my ends are compass'd! then for Wellborn +And the lands; were he once married to the widow-- +I have him here----I can scarce contain myself, +I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over! [_Exit._ + + + + +ACT. V. + + +SCENE I.--_A Chamber in_ Lady Allworth's _House_. + +_Enter_ Lovell _and_ Lady Allworth. + +_Lady A._ By this you know how strong the motives were +That did, my lord, induce me to dispense +A little with my gravity, to advance +The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn. +Nor shall I e'er repent the action, +For he, that ventur'd all for my dear husband, +Might justly claim an obligation from me, +To pay him such a courtesy: which had I +Coyly, or over curiously deny'd, +It might have argued me of little love +To the deceas'd. + +_Lov._ What you intended, madam, +For the poor gentleman, hath found good success; +For, as I understand, his debts are paid, +And he once more furnish'd for fair employment: +But all the arts that I have us'd to raise +The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth, +Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well. +For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant +Than their years can promise; and for their desires, +On my knowledge they equal. + +_Lady A._ Though my wishes +Are with yours, my lord; yet give me leave to fear +The building, though well grounded. To deceive +Sir Giles (that's both a lion and a fox +In his proceedings) were a work beyond +The strongest undertakers; not the trial +Of two weak innocents. + +_Lov._ Despair not, madam: +Hard things are compass'd oft by easy means. +The cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms +The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth, +Is by simplicity oft overreach'd. + +_Lady A._ May be so. +The young ones have my warmest wishes. + +_Lov._ O, gentle lady, let them prove kind to me +You've kindly heard--now grant my suit. +What say you, lady? + +_Lady A._ Troth, my lord, +My own unworthiness may answer for me; +For had you, when I was in my prime, +Presented me with this great favour, +I could not but have thought it as a blessing, +Far, far beyond my merit. + +_Lov._ You are too modest. +In a word, +Our years, our states, our births, are not unequal. +If then you may be won to make me happy, +But join your hand to mine, and that shall be +A solemn contract. + +_Lady A._ I were blind to my own good, +Should I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me +As such a one; the study of whose whole life +Shall know no other object but to please you. + +_Lov._ If I return not, with all tenderness, +Equal respect to you, may I die wretched! + +_Lady A._ There needs no protestation, my lord, +To her, that cannot doubt--You are welcome, sir. + +_Enter_ Wellborn. + +Now you look like yourself. + +_Wellb._ And will continue that I am, +Your creature, madam, and will never hold +My life mine own, when you please to demand it. + +_Lov._ It is a thankfulness that well becomes you; +You could not make choice of a better shape +To dress your mind in. + +_Lady A._ For me, I am happy +That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late +Sir Giles, your uncle? + +_Wellb._ I heard of him, madam, +By his minister, Marall: he's grown into strange passions +About his daughter. This last night he look'd for +Your lordship, at his house; but, missing you, +And she not yet appearing, his wise head +Is much perplex'd and troubled. + +_Lov._ I hope my project took. + +_Lady A._ I strongly hope. + +_Sir G._ [_Without._] Ha! find her, booby; thou huge lump of +nothing, +I'll bore thine eyes out else. + +_Wellb._ May it please your lordship, +For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw +A little out of sight, though not of hearing.-- +You may, perhaps, have sport. + +_Lov._ You shall direct me. [_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Overreach, _drawing in_ Marall. + +_Sir G._ I shall sol fa you, rogue! + +_Mar._ Sir, for what cause +Do you use me thus? + +_Sir G._ Cause, slave! why, I am angry; +And thou a subject only fit for beating; +And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing; +Let but the seal be broke upon the box, +That has slept in my cabinet these three years, +I'll rack thy soul for't. + +_Mar._ I may yet cry 'quittance; +Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. [_Aside._ + +_Sir G._ Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady? +And the lord her husband? Are they in your house? +If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy: +And, as an entrance to her place of honour, +See your ladyship on her left hand. + +_Lady A._ When I know, Sir Giles, +Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it; +But, in the meantime, +I give you to understand, I neither know +Nor care where her honour is. + +_Sir G._ When you once see her +Supported, and led by the lord her husband, +You'll be taught better.--Nephew! + +_Wellb._ Well. + +_Sir G._ No more! + +_Wellb._ 'Tis all I owe you. + +_Sir G._ Have your redeem'd rags +Made you thus insolent? + +_Wellb._ Insolent to you? [_In scorn._ +Why, what are you, sir, unless in years, more than myself? + +_Sir G._ His fortune swells him: +'Tis rank--he's married. + +_Lady A._ This is excellent! + +_Sir G._ Sir, in calm language (though I seldom use it), +I am familiar with the cause that makes you +Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buzz +Of a stolen marriage; Do you hear? of a stolen marriage; +In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozen'd. +I name no parties. [Lady Allworth _turns away_. + +_Wellb._ Well, sir; and what follows? + +_Sir G._ Marry, this: since you are peremptory, remember, +Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you +A thousand pounds; put me in good security, +And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, +Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you +Dragg'd in your lavender robe, to the jail; you know me, +And therefore do not trifle. + +_Wellb._ Can you be +So cruel to your nephew, now he's in +The way to rise? Was this the courtesy +You did me in pure love, and no ends else? + +_Sir G._ End me no ends; engage the whole estate, +And force your spouse to sign it: you shall have +Three or four thousand more to roar and swagger, +And revel in bawdy taverns. + +_Wellb._ And beg after: +Mean you not so? + +_Sir G._ My thoughts are mine, and free. +Shall I have security? + +_Wellb._ No, indeed, you shall not: +Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgement. +Your great looks fright not me. + +_Sir G._ But my deeds shall.---- +Out-brav'd! [_They both draw._ + +_Enter_ Two Servants. + +_Lady A._ Help! murder! murder! + +_Wellb._ Let him come on; +With all his wrongs and injuries about him, +Arm'd with his cut throat practices to guard him; +The right I bring with me will defend me, +And punish his extortion. + +_Sir G._ That I had thee +But single in the field! + +_Lady A._ You may; but make not +My house your quarrelling scene. + +_Sir G._ Were't in a church, +By heaven and hell, I'll do't. + +_Mar._ Now put him to +The showing of the deed. + +_Wellb._ This rage is vain, sir; +For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full, +Upon the least incitement: and whereas +You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, +If there be law (howe'er you have no conscience) +Either restore my land, or I'll recover +A debt that's truly due to me from you, +In value ten times more than what you challenge. + +_Sir G._ I in thy debt! oh, impudence! Did I not purchase +The land left by thy father? that rich land, +That had continued in Wellborn's name +Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool, +Thou didst make sale of? Is not here +The deed that does confirm it mine? + +_Mar._ Now, now! + +_Wellb._ I do acknowledge none; I ne'er pass'd o'er +Such land: I grant, for a year or two, +You had it in trust: which, if you do discharge +Surrendering the possession, you shall ease +Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law; +Which, if you prove not honest (as I doubt it), +Must, of necessity, follow. + +_Lady A._ In my judgment, +He does advise you well. + +_Sir G._ Good, good! conspire +With your new husband, lady; second him +In his dishonest practices; but, when +This manor is extended to my use, +You'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favor. + +_Wellb._ Let despair first seize me. + +_Sir G._ Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give +Thyself the lie, the loud lie--I draw out +The precious evidence: If thou canst forswear +Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of +Thy ears to the pillory--see, here's that will make +My interest clear. + +[_Shows the Deed out of his Pocket._ + +Ha!-- + +_Lady A._ A fair skin of parchment! + +_Wellb._ Indented, I confess, and labels too; +But neither wax nor words. How, thunderstruck! +Is this your precious evidence? Is this that makes +Your interest clear? + +_Sir G._ I am o'erwhelmed with wonder! +What prodigy was this? what subtle devil +Hath raz'd out the inscription? the wax +Turn'd into dust, +Made nothing! do you deal with witches, rascal? +There's a statute for you which will bring +Your neck in a hempen circle; + +[_Throws away the deed._ + +Yes there is. +And now 'tis better thought; for, cheater, know +This juggling shall not save you. + +_Wellb._ To save thee, +Would beggar the stock of mercy. + +_Sir G._ Marall? + +_Mar._ Sir! + +_Sir G._ Though the witnesses are dead, + +[_Flattering him._ + +Your testimony. +Help with an oath or two; and for thy master, +Thy liberal master, my good honest servant, +I know you will swear any thing, to dash +This cunning slight: besides, I know thou art +A public notary, and such stands in law +For a dozen witnesses; the deed being drawn too +By thee, my careful Marall, and deliver'd +When thou wert present, will make good my title: +Wilt thou not swear this? + +_Mar._ I! No, I assure you. +I have a conscience not sear'd up like yours; +I know no deeds. + +_Sir G._ Wilt thou betray me? + +_Mar._ Keep him +From using of his hands, I'll use my tongue +To his no little torment. + +_Sir G._ My own varlet +Rebel against me? + +_Mar._ Yes, and unease you too. +The idiot! the patch! the slave! the booby! +The property fit only to be beaten +For your morning exercise? your football, or +Th'unprofitable lump of flesh, your drudge, +Can now anatomize you, and lay open +All your black plots; level with the earth +Your hill of pride, and shake, +Nay pulverize, the walls you think defend you. + +_Lady A._ How he foams at the mouth with rage! + +_Sir G._ O, that I had thee in my gripe, I would tear thee +Joint after joint! + +_Mar._ I know you are a tearer. +But I'll have first your fangs pared off; and then +Come nearer to you; when I have discover'd, +And made it good before the judge what ways +And devilish practices you us'd to cozen with. + +_Wellb._ [_Keep between them._] All will come out. + +_Sir G._ But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee, +And make thee wish, and kneel in vain to die; +I play the fool, and make my anger but ridiculous. +There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards, +When you shall feel what I dare do. + +_Wellb._ I think so: +You dare do any ill; yet want true valour +To be honest, and repent. + +_Sir G._ They are words I know not, +No e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue, +Shall find no harbour here.--After these storms, +At length a calm appears. + + +_Enter_ Greedy _and_ Parson Welldo. + + +Welcome, most welcome: +There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done? +Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain, +And I am tame. + +_Welldo._ Married? yes, I assure you! + +_Sir G._ Then vanish all sad thoughts! +My doubts and fears are in the title drown'd +Of my right honourable, right honourable daughter. + +_Greedy._ Here will be feasting, at least for a month! + +_Sir G._ Instantly be here? + +[_Whispering to_ Welldo. + +To my wish! to my wish! Now you that plot against me, +And hoped to trip my heels up; that contemn'd me; +Think on't, and tremble. [_Loud Music._] They come, I hear the music. +A lane there! +Make way there for my lord. [_Music._ + +_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret. + +_Marg._ Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing with +Your full allowance of the choice I have made. +As ever you could make use of your reason, [_Kneels._ +Grow not in passion; since you may as well +Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot +Which is so strongly fasten'd. +Not to dwell too long on words, +This is my husband. + +_Sir G._ How! + +_Allw._ So I assure you; all the rites of marriage +With every circumstance are past. +And, for right honourable son-in-law, you may say +Your dutiful daughter. + +_Sir G._ Devil! are they married? + +_Welldo._ Do a father's part, and say Heaven give them joy! + +_Sir G._ Confusion and ruin! Speak, and speak quickly, +Or thou art dead. + +_Welldo._ They are married. + +_Sir G._ Thou hadst better +Have made a contract with the king of fiends +Than these.----My brain turns! + +_Welldo._ Why this rage to me? +Is not this your letter, sir? and these the words? +Marry her to this gentleman. + +_Sir G._ It cannot; +Nor will I ever believe it: 'sdeath! I will not. +That I, that in all passages I touch'd +At worldly profit, have not left a print +Where I have trod, for the most curious search +To trace my footsteps; should be gull'd by children! +Baffled and fool'd; and all my hopes and labours +Defeated, and made void. + +_Welb._ As it appears, +You are so, my grave uncle. + +_Sir G._ Village nurses +Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste +A syllable, but thus I take the life +Which wretched I gave to thee. + +[_Offers to kill_ Margaret. + +_Lov._ Hold, for your own sake! +Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you +Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, +Can leave no hopes for peace or rest hereafter? + +_Sir G._ Lord! thus I spit at thee, +And at thy council; and again desire thee, +As thou art a soldier, if thy valour +Dares show itself where multitude and example +Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change +Six words in private. + +_Lov._ I am ready. + +_Wellb._ You'll grow like him, +Should you answer his vain challenge. + +_Sir G._ Are you pale? +Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds, +I'll stand against both. +Say, they were a squadron +Of pikes lined through with shot; when I am mounted +Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them? +No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed, + +[_Flourishing his Sword, sheathed._ + +I'll fall to execution.--Ha! I am feeble: +Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, +And takes away the use of't; and my sword, +Glew'd to my scabbard with wrong'd orphans' tears, +Will not be drawn. [Servants _hold him._ +Ha! what are these?--Sure, hangmen, +That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me +Before the judgment seat.--Now, they are new shapes, +And do appear like furies, with steel whips, +To scourge my ulcerous soul: Shall I then fall +Ingloriously, and yield? No: spite of fate +I will be forc'd to hell like to myself; +Though you were legions of accursed spirits, +Thus would I fly among you.-- + +[_Dragged off by_ Order _and_ Amble. + +_Mar._ It's brave sport! + +_Greedy._ Brave sport? I'm sure it has ta'en away my stomach. +I do not like the sauce! + +_Allw._ Nay, weep not, my dearest, + +[_To_ Margaret. + +Though it express your pity! what's decreed +Above, you cannot alter. + +_Mar._ Was it not a rare trick, +(An't please your worship) to make the deed nothing. + +_Wellb._ I pray thee discover, what cunning +Means you us'd to raze out the conveyance. + +_Mar._ Certain minerals I us'd, +Incorporated in the ink and wax. +Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me +With hopes and blows: and that was the inducement +To this conundrum. +If it please your worship +To call to memory, this mad beast once caus'd me +To urge you to drown or hang yourself; +I'll do the like to him if you command me. + +_Wellb._ You are a rascal. He that dares be false +To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true +To any other. Look not for reward, +Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight, +As I would do a basilisk's. + +_Greedy._ I'll commit him, +If you'll have me, sir. + +_Wellb._ Not a word, +But instantly be gone. + +[_Exit_ Marall. + +_Lov._ Here is a precedent to teach wicked men; +That when they leave religion, and turn atheists, +Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take comfort, +I will endeavour you shall be his guardians +In his distraction: and for your land, Mr. Wellborn, +Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire +Between you, and this the undoubted heir +Of Sir Giles Overreach: for me, here's the anchor +That I must fix on. + +[_Takes_ Lady Allworth's _hand_. + +_Allw._ What you shall determine, +My lord, I will allow of. + +_Wellb._ It is a time of action; if your lordship +Will please to confer a company upon me +In your command, I doubt not, in my service, +To my king and country, but I shall do something +That may make me right again. + +_Lov._ Your suit is granted, +And you lov'd for the motion. + +_Wellb._ Nothing wants then + +[_To the Audience._ + +But your allowance--and, in that, our all +Is comprehended; it being known, nor we, +Nor even the comedy itself is free, +Without your manumission. That +Obtain'd, +Our utmost wish we hold, and from the store +Of ancient wit, produce one genius more; +While honest Massinger himself, to night +Shall teach our modern witlings how to write. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic +Censor, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1810, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, APRIL 1810 *** + +***** This file should be named 26954.txt or 26954.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/5/26954/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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