 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
SCENE X.
To them Trulletta, supported by her Pages.Trul.
Now have I reach'd my wishes utmost goal
To die in Madrigal's blest arms.
Mad.
Alas!
The iron hand of death is on thee—e'er
Life's lamp be quite extinguish'd, speak, oh! speak
Some peace, some comfort to thy mournful bard!
Trul.
May the shrill catcall's knell, the boxes sneer,
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Ne'er blast thy muse's offspring on the stage!
But heels, sticks, hands, in thund'ring peals, attend
Thy race dramatic to their thrice-third night—
May ever-blooming laurels crown thy brow,
And fame—immortal fame—the rest is silence.
(Dies.
Mad.
Dead! dead! oh dead!—is there no death for me?
Ly.
Hold thy rash hand—this widow'd isle would mourn,
In tears of blood, the loss of such a bard.
Think of immortal fame, and deathless honours—
Live, and pursue the labours of thy muse;
And all eternity is thine.
Mad.
How die
The thoughts of death in friendship's soft persuation!—
Yes thou hast rous'd me into life again,
And last posterity's posterity
Shall bless thee for thy counsel—Gods! cruel gods!
Take notice, I forgive you —yet, my Lyric!
Something like poison courses thro' my veins,
Boils in my bowels, and works out my soul.
Ly.
'Tis fancy all—and yet thy looks are chang'd.
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Let me sink gently down on the cold ground—
O I am all on fire! a thousand hells
Blaze in my bosom! streams of molten lead
Hiss thro' my veins, and burn my body up—
Lyric! I die—my posthumous productions
I leave to thy correcting hand—with care,
O! with the greatest care, my dearest friend,
Revise, and to the flames commit whate'er
Shall seem unworthy my great muse—my fame
Is in thy hands—Remember the vast trust—
My grateful ghost shall rise to thank thee for't.
I should be glad to inform the reader from whom this image is borrow'd. I have read upwards of two hundred plays to find it, but in vain.—Our author acknowledges it is not his own, but cannot recollect from whom it is taken. Dr. Humbug.
A very pertinent epithet as Trulletta was slain by a bodkin; and, in my opinion, as beautiful as the iron teeth in Boadicia. See note 18 in the fourth act.
This dying speech and prayer of our heroine is an original, and perhaps one of the finest pieces of dramatic painting in the whole world of literature. Dr. Humbug.
Tears of blood frequently occur in tragic productions.
------ These tears, which from my wounded heart,
Bleed at my eyes.
Spanish Friar.
Bleed at my eyes.
How die the thoughts of death!
Brothers.
An uncommon expression, but of vast force, and significancy.
Dr. Humbug.
Gods! cruel gods, take notice, I forgive you.
Theodosius.
An instance of great benevolence and charity!
Dr. Humbug.
| Madrigal And Trulletta | |