 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
SCENE II.
Madrigal, Trulletta, Sculliona.Scul.
Oh! Sir, these wretched eyes have newly seen
Buckramo skulking 'hind a cobler's stall.
Some hint's officious note had reach'd his ear
That you was here—In his right hand he bore,
Most terrible to tell! a glitt'ring bodkin;
And ask'd, if I had seen you: I replied,
(Forgive me, Jove, the pious falshood!) no:
On which, with sullen aspect, he rejoin'd;
“Well! I may meet him e'er the noon of night.”
Where is the stall, my gentle Sculliona?
Haste me to know't, that I with wings as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May fly to my revenge.
Trul.
A breathless horror
Heaves panting at my heart!—Indeed, my Love,
You must not hence to night: the time is big
With danger.
Mad.
What! be coop'd within these walls;
Thro' fear of one base cross-legg'd animal,
But the ninth part of manhood?—by Alcides!
Were there a hundred of the prick-louse tribe,
With each a hundred bodkins in his hands,
I could, with steadfast, and advancing scorn,
Stare in each phyz, full-sighted—I'll be gone,
And sacrifice a hecatomb of taylors
To my wak'd wrath, while mercy's faintest glympse
Shall shun to reach them.
Trul.
Madrigal! forbear,
And do not rush on such eventful broil.
If all their lice were lives, my great revenge
Has stomach for them all.
Trul.
And canst thou leave me,
Disconsolate to mourn thy rashness?—hast thou
So soon forgot me?
Mad.
Do not rive my heart
With such unkind expressions—Didst thou say
Forget thee?—much indeed must be forgot,
E'er Madrigal forget his fair Trulletta—
The gods, that pry into the close recesses
Of every heart, can evidence the love,
The wond'rous love I bear thee—Now, even now,
A flow of fondness gushes from my eyes:
And did not honour's call command me hence,
I would not leave thee for the laurell'd wreath,
That binds a Milton's, or a Shakespear's brow;
But, throwing thus my arms about thy neck,
Would play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom
Till I had drown'd thee with my streaming tears.
Trul.
And is it possible that thou should'st love,
Yet leave me thus inhumanly?
Forbear
This unprevailing woe—Alas! 'tis more
Than death to see thee weep! —but we must part—
O! I could curse this idle bubble, honour;
This fashionable frenzy, that enslaves
The mob polite, that tears me from thy arms?—
Farewel, my Love!—why dost thou hang upon me?—
Release me! give me way!—let go my arm!
Trul.
Thou shalt not leave me.
Mad.
Shalt not! have a care;
Thou'lt wake the slumb'ring lyon in my breast:
Do not provoke my rage too far—thou know'st
My hasty temper—quit thy stubborn hold,
Or, by the gods, I'll force thee to forego it!
Trul.
Behold my streaming eyes—
Mad.
Ha! shall the tears
Of abject importunity detain me,
While vengeance, striding from his grizly den
With fell impatience, grinds his iron teeth,
And waits my nod, to satisfy his hunger?—
Not all the tears, that ever yet were shed,
Could stop my rapid course—May Jove exhaust
His thunder on my head! may hell disgorge
Infernal plagues to blast me, if I cease
To persecute the Prick-louse, till his blood
Or give me way; or thou'rt no more my friend.
Trul.
Help, Sculliona! Sculliona, help
To save my raging bard!
Mad.
To save me so,
Were but to lose me surer—quit me, fair ones!
Trul.
For pity's sake—
Mad.
With thee a kneeling world
Should sue in vain—Unhand me, gentlewomen!
By hell! I'll make a ghost of her that lets me!—
Nay 'tis in vain to strive—no force can hold me—
Let Broughton, or let Slack do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
(breaks from them.
Those who are acquainted with the sublimity of Mr. Hill's style, need not be inform'd from whom this line is borrow'd. Dr. Humbug.
That is, I presume, when the moon is in her meridian, and not as commonly suppos'd, at midnight—Many tragic authors are fond of this beautiful phrase. Dr. Humbug.
These lovers lie.
This line, and the remaining part of the speech from Hamlet. Our hero seems to be in greater earnest than the young Dane, as he flies with greater expedition to his revenge.
I am persuaded our author would scarce have ventur'd on this expression, if he had not found it in so correct a writer, as the author of Eugenia, for fear of incurring the charge of an Iricism. How breathless horror can heave panting at the heart, is not very obvious to human understandings; but Mr. Francis must have undoubtedly been satisfied of the possibility of such an effect, or he would hardly have made use of the expression. Dr. Humbug.
Look in death's face full-sighted.
The sirnames of two bards, that will be an honour to Great Britain as long as her present language is known. The first the greatest epic poet that ever existed; the last so great a dramatic genius, that to him (to imitate his own phrase)
------ All the NINE did seem to set their seals,To give the world assurance of a bard.
To this note Dr. Humbug hath added, “I am sorry to inform the world, these two immortal men were such latitudinarians in morals, that the former was a rebel, and the latter a deer-stealer.”
I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom:
Oh, I shall drown thee with my sorrows.
Our author hath borrow'd this image, but I cannot satisfy the reader's curiosity from whence. Dr. Humbug.
This hemistic, and the four following lines, which, for their sublimity, may be rank'd with any in the English language, are taken verbatim from Boadicia.
Its thunders on my head; may hell disgorge
Infernal plagues to blast me, if I cease
To persecute the caitif till his blood
Assuage my parch'd revenge.
As I cannot recollect from what author I have borrow'd this sentiment, I should take it as a favour, if the said author, or his ghost would give me a letter (post paid) to inform me in which of his performances it may be found; in which case I assure him, that honourable mention shall be made of it in the next publication of this tragedy, if my bookseller have the good fortune to get off the present edition, and courage to venture on a second.
| Madrigal And Trulletta | |