Madrigal And Trulletta A Mock-Tragedy |
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| 5. | SCENE V. |
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 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
SCENE V.
Madrigal, Buckramo.Buck.
Ha! who calls Buckramo,
With lungs so loud, and vehemence so great?
Mad.
Of one, that comes to scourge thy insolence,
Presuming arrogant! unletter'd slave!
Thou little more than a bare tythe of manhood!
Buck.
The lewdest sland'rer, that e'er broach'd abuse,
Came short of this—Take note, take note, O god,
Of this reproachful calumny—This railer,
With breath envenom'd, impiously affirms,
Your human figures are but decimals,
But tythes of manhood—Vile, licentious cur!
The very dogs would spurn thy wretched carcase;
Because—it scarce would furnish out a meal.
Go hence! buy food! and get thee into flesh!
'Twould grieve my very soul to grace a gibbet
For killing but a shadow.
Mad.
This from thee!
Thou seeming semblance of the human form,
Made from the shreds, and clippings of mankind!
Are not thy cross-legg'd tribe th'unsifted mold,
Nay, by the powers! your composition is
Of baser matter still, the lumpish dregs,
The refuse vile of animal creation!
Buck.
Dost thou compare the fashioners of man
With these base botchers of the verseful train?
What are ye but a shrivel'd, half-starv'd race
Of living skeletons? shadows of shadows?
With brains of whirligigs, and limbs of reeds?
A cringing, lying, snarling, monkey tribe,
That, pack-horse like, jogg thro' the stage of life,
Proud of your senseless jingle?
Mad.
Awful shades
Of Homer, Sophocles, Euripides,
Virgil, and Horace, Milton, Shakespear, Pope,
Hear this blasphemer of the gods and you!
Was it for this ye toil'd, incessant toil'd,
To polish, and refine that lump of oar,
The mind?—immortal shades! ye gods on earth!
(kneels.
Look down from your blest thrones, or laurel groves,
How sharper, than a serpent's tooth, it is
To hear a thankless railer—
(rises.
Mark me, caitif!
No single life can expiation make
For this abuse—chuse thou a hundred Knights
Of Cabbage, skill'd in chivalry and arms;
My self, in opposition, will select
As many Garretters—To morrow night,
At twelve, our different prowess shall be tried
On Smithfield's flinty plains—Dare ye the combat?
Buck.
What is beyond the daring of my tribe?
Why, I will meet thee at West-Smithfield then.
Buckramo seems to be in the same perplexity with Calista, where she says,
Is it the voice of thunder, or my father?Fair Penitent.
That such mistake in sounds may not appear unnatural, to the tragic already quoted, I shall add a comic authority, which comes from the mouth of no less ingenious a personage, than Mr. Scrub in the Stratagem.
Archer.“Did you hear nothing of Mrs. Sullen?”
Scrub.
“I did hear something that sounded that way, but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda I could not distinguish.”
The altercation in this scene between our two heroes, seems to be a distant imitation of that spirited conference between Horatio and Lothario in the Fair Penitent.
One would naturally imagine from this verse, that Mr. Theobald, whom envy itself (notwithstanding Pope's sarcasm, viz. Shakespear of Tibbald sore) must allow to be a judicious editor, had been a tapster, as well as a critick and play-wright —The curious reader may find the above image in the Fatal Secret. Dr. Humbug.
The criticks, a set of snarling people, that right or wrong, must always be finding fault; have establish'd it for a standing rule, that dramatic heroes must never be allow'd to degenerate into Billingsgate scolds. If authorities were necessary to refute this absurd restriction, I could bring a whole string of examples from our best play-wrights, ancient and modern, to prove the legality of sarcastic raillery and altercation in tragedy. The immortal Shakespear makes his Danish heroe call his father-uncle-sovereign
A cut-purse of the empire.A king of shreds and patches.
A vice of kings.
and a great many other names. Rowe makes Lothario call his opponent a tavern-bully, slave, villain, beggar, parasite, &c. These authorities (to mention no others) will certainly justify the use of a few sarcastic appellations.
Dr. Humbug. | Madrigal And Trulletta | |