Madrigal And Trulletta A Mock-Tragedy |
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 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
SCENE II.
Strapada, Buckramo.Buck.
My ears deceive me, or I heard the voice
Of dear Strapada once; but, now alas!
No more my friend—'tis he—avenging steel!
(puts up his bodkin.
Rest here unseen—his lab'ring mind is lock'd
In contemplation's closest cell—I'll try
To rouse him from this trance of thought—what, ho!
Strapada!
Strap.
Ha!—Buckramo!—Thou wast once
My trustiest friend: in my heart's core I wore thee;
Ay in my heart of hearts.
Ammonian Jove!
(kneeling.
And all ye gods, and goddesses: peruse
The folio of my past and present thoughts!
Peruse it page by page, or in the way
Of modern connoissieurs, videlicet,
Run o'er contents and index—if you find
A wish, unless to have Trulletta mine,
Preferr'd to good Strapada's dearest friendship,
Hurl my thrice-thankless spirit vengeful down
Into th' infernal pitchy lake, prepar'd
For negro-soul'd ingratitude.
Strap.
By Saturn!
His mother's in his face—the dear Scourella—
It is too much to bear—spite of my vow
I must, I must relent—there is a way
To reinstate thee in my love: be virtuous.
The friends of virtue are Strapada's friends—
Forgo thy black design on Madrigal,
And be as dear as ever—what incites thee
To seek his blood?
He robs me of my mistress:
And in return I rob him of his life.
The robber rob, and robbery grows virtue.
Strap.
The subtlety of schools may paint this maxim;
The schools, where learned error stalks abroad
With such gigantic strides, in wisdom's garb;
But truth, and sound philosophy, disclaim
The paultry dawbing—know, blood-thirsty youth!
Know, thou death's orator! dread advocate
For bowelless severity! forgiveness
Is greater, wiser, manlier bravery
Than wild revenge.
Buck.
Ha! whither would'st thou lead me?
Strap.
To virtue, to forgiveness—talk no more
Of fell revenge.
Buck.
Not talk of it, Strapada?
I'll talk of it, tho' hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace—not talk of it?
Not of revenge? the attribute of th' gods,
Who stamp it in our natures to impell
Mankind to noblest darings.
Strap.
Rather call it
The attribute of devils, stamp'd on man
To draw deluded mortals to destruction.
No more, no more—tempt me no more in vain—
My soul is wrought to the sublimest rage
Of horrible revenge.
Strap.
And thou art fix'd
On bloody purpose?
Buck.
Fix'd as Cambrian mountain
On its own base, or gaming lords on ruin.
Strap.
Then all my flattering hopes of thy reclaim
Are lost; and my shock'd soul akes at thee : yet
Attend my last request—defer thy purpose,
Till the cold earth, in her parental bosom,
Receive thy venerable master's corse.
E'er long the sad procession will begin:
Then do not with unhallow'd broil prophane
The dread solemnity of funeral rites:
But lend thy kind assistance to support
Thy sorrowing mistress thro' the mournful scene.
This thou wilt promise?
Buck.
By yon silver lamp,
Which stringless hangs, or hangs by string unseen
Strap.
Till then farewel!
Ay, in my heart of hearts.
As I cannot, with all my sagacity as an editor, trace any imitation of the following prayer, I must conclude it to be an original. Dr. Humbug.
This conflict in the bosom of Strapada plainly shews, that our author design'd to draw him a man, as well as a philosopher; two characters, which seldom meet in the same person; especially in dramatic philosophers. The struggle is so great, that the tenderness of the man overcomes the stiffness of the sage; and compells him to break that vow, which, a few minutes ago, he would have given the empire of so many thousand worlds to forswear with impunity. In the midst of the conflict, we still find him so great a friend to virtue, that he only pardons his repenting friend, on condition of his being virtuous. That this frailty, in regard to his vow, may not appear a blemish in the character of our heroic cobler, I must beg leave to inform my readers, that such breach of rash vows, in dramatic heroes, hath seldom or never been counted criminal. I could produce many instances of such frailty; that of Pierre in Venice Preserv'd may suffice, without quoting further authorities. Dr. Humbug.
Our author seems to have had in view that moral and musical line, viz.
In such gigantic strides.
For bowelless severity!
With their great image on our natures.
Of horrible revenge.
Our author seems to be led away by the prevailing opinion of Gaming, which paints it as the effect of idleness and prodigality; but I am not yet so much a slave to vulgar prejudice, as to suppose that idleness and prodigality are the sources of Gaming. Yet should we judge of its merits, from its prevalency in the fashionable world, we might rather esteem it to be the effect of a laudable desire of acquiring riches, and a praise-worthy calling; under which character the worst of men insinuate themselves into the company of gentlemen, and nobles. And I am of opinion that the philosopher's stone (notwithstanding all the labours of the chymical tribe) will be found, if ever it be found, by a gaming projector. Dr. Humbug.
| Madrigal And Trulletta | |