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+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
+
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+
+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
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+</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&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; APRIL 1810.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 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&mdash;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 />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#ACT_I"><b>ACT I.</b></a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#ACT_II"><b>ACT II.</b></a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#ACT_III"><b>ACT. III.</b></a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#ACT_IV"><b>ACT IV.</b></a><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<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&mdash;ARISTOPHANES&mdash;DEATH OF SOCRATES.</h4>
+
+
+<p>Though the term "tragedy" has from the first productions of &AElig;schylus 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&mdash;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&mdash;Cratinus,
+Eupolis and Aristophanes. If there were any before them, their names are
+buried in oblivion. Taking the structure of the tragedies of &AElig;schylus
+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&mdash;sometimes inflated and serious to bombast&mdash;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&mdash;the citizen from the boor&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;first, of corrupting the
+Athenian youth&mdash;secondly, of making innovations in religion&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;one of them
+expressing his grief that he should suffer, though innocent, Socrates
+replied, "would you then have me die guilty?"&mdash;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&mdash;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."&mdash;"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, &amp;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&mdash;thee art Jacky
+Meadowcroft!&mdash;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?&mdash;where dids't thee get those foin clothes?"&mdash;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&mdash;the play actors,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;no, not for fifty pound a year; evermore some danger or some
+trouble. One time a storm, expecting to be drowned&mdash;another a battle
+with cannon, expecting to be murdered&mdash;one time pressed&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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?&mdash;cannot I be as useful as them? besides I can&mdash;but these men
+sing, I suppose&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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:&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;after
+some minutes I saw him coming&mdash;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&mdash;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:&mdash;"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"&mdash;"No, sir&mdash;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&mdash;but
+d&mdash;&mdash;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&mdash;"fair trial! a pretty trial truly&mdash;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!"&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;you perceive the gentlemen of the band are
+in the orchestra&mdash;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.&mdash;The boy
+sung&mdash;their surprise was now raised to astonishment&mdash;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&mdash;or
+something more perhaps." He then interrogated him&mdash;"have you ever been
+about a theatre:&mdash;perhaps your parents are?"&mdash;"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?"&mdash;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&mdash;" "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&mdash;perfectly insensible of
+hunger or fatigue he continued on the stride, up the river side and
+down, then about the square again&mdash;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?&mdash;you have practised every piece on the stage, one
+would think&mdash;and the Contrivances has not escaped you." "My name is not
+Henry, sir&mdash;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&mdash;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?&mdash;Ecod thee
+deservst to ha thee jacket trimmed, so thee dost&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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. &mdash;&mdash;,<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&mdash;&mdash; 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, &amp;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&mdash;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&mdash;'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">&mdash;&mdash;"Oh! my soul's joy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If after every tempest come such calms," &amp;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&mdash;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&mdash;he supported Othello throughout with unabating
+splendor&mdash;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, &amp;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>&mdash;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, &amp;c. &amp;c. The Bastard in King John, was another
+fine character of his, which Garrick attempted in vain&mdash;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, &amp;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 minuti&aelig; 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&mdash;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 C&aelig;sar.</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&mdash;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!&mdash;and
+pray sir, who are <i>you</i> that presume to offer to oblige me?&mdash;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!&mdash;<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,&mdash;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 proteg&eacute;. 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&mdash;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">&mdash;&mdash;multi<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Committunt eadem diverso crimina fato<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hic diadema.&mdash;<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&mdash;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>entr&eacute;</i>&mdash;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 D&aelig;mon (that
+diphthong is my delight), the Castle Spectre, &amp;c. &amp;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&mdash;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&mdash;prepare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In flame like Semel&eacute; 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&mdash;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,&mdash;<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&mdash;unless we are ourselves mistaken&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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">&mdash;&mdash;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>&mdash;</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, &amp;c. &amp;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 M&aelig;cenas,
+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."&mdash;<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'Abb&eacute; 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:&mdash;&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;of such information of
+that description, as I have collected in my progress through life&mdash;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, &amp;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
+person&aelig;, 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, &amp;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&mdash;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&mdash;</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&mdash;and
+the 3d night, November 18, there was a large party formed, who were
+determined to have it suppressed. Violent riots took place&mdash;"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&mdash;never appear upon the stage again." The
+audience were struck with the justice and propriety of what he
+said&mdash;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&mdash;"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&mdash;and
+resolutely addressed them once more&mdash;"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&mdash;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&mdash;Mr. Wilkes, the
+Garrick of his day, for a time absolutely refused to take a part in
+it&mdash;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.&mdash;&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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;&mdash;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," &amp;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&mdash;&mdash;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&mdash;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,
+&amp;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&mdash;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&mdash;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?&mdash;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&mdash;thou&mdash;so&mdash;bare&mdash;and&mdash;full&mdash;of&mdash;wretchedness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And&mdash;fear'st&mdash;to&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great, the important day, big with the fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Cato and of Rome."&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>This wonderful effusion put the audience in good humour&mdash;they laughed
+incontinently&mdash;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?"&mdash;"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&mdash;the select ones
+of the last five and thirty years&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the line not to be broken&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;plot&mdash;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&mdash;"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&mdash;never incorrect or
+indifferent&mdash;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&mdash;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.&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+And thus&mdash;&mdash;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<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.&mdash;&mdash;<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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt severally.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE II.&mdash;<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&mdash;<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&mdash;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&mdash;<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&mdash;<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.&mdash;<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?&mdash;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!&mdash;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&mdash;<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&mdash;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.&mdash;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 pr&aelig;munire:<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.&mdash;<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.&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>Order.</i> What you please.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Fur.</i> We are ready.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE III.&mdash;<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&mdash;<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&mdash;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&mdash;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>Sir G.</i> Do you grumble?<br />
+<br />
+<i>Mar.</i> O no, sir.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT. III.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE I.&mdash;<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&mdash;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!&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE II.&mdash;<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&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<i>Greedy.</i> As I do indeed, sir.<br />
+Almost as much as to give thanks for 'em&mdash;<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>.]&mdash;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&mdash;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.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<i>Sir G.</i> I am past learning,<br />
+And therefore leave you to yourselves: remember&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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,&mdash;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.&mdash;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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<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!&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;<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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<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&mdash;<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&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;<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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<i>Exeunt.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE II.&mdash;<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&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;Mum! my passion is great!<br />
+I fry like a burnt marrowbone&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;<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&mdash;&mdash;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.&mdash;<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>]&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [Margaret <i>kneels</i>.<br />
+'Tis done: away&mdash;my blessing, girl? thou hast it.<br />
+Nay, no reply&mdash;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?&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+My ends, my ends are compass'd! then for Wellborn<br />
+And the lands; were he once married to the widow&mdash;<br />
+I have him here&mdash;&mdash;I can scarce contain myself,<br />
+I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over!&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"></a>ACT. V.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>SCENE I.&mdash;<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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&mdash;<br />
+You may, perhaps, have sport.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Lov.</i> You shall direct me. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<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.&mdash;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? &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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&mdash;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.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [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.&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+Out-brav'd! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<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&mdash;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&mdash;see, here's that will make<br />
+My interest clear.<br />
+<br />
+[<i>Shows the Deed out of his Pocket.</i><br />
+<br />
+Ha!&mdash;<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.&mdash;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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<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.&mdash;&mdash;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.&mdash;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. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[Servants <i>hold him.</i><br />
+Ha! what are these?&mdash;Sure, hangmen,<br />
+That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me<br />
+Before the judgment seat.&mdash;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.&mdash;<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&mdash;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
+
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+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: 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 ***
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