Madrigal And Trulletta A Mock-Tragedy |
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| 11. | SCENE XI. |
 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
SCENE XI.
Madrigal, Lyric, Buckramo, Strapada, Scourella, Goosino, Bodkinda, Pressboardalio, Yardwandelli, Pages, and the conquering Party, with Prisoners.Buck.
Got by a templar, while my father liv'd
In cruel exile on Columbian shores!
Then I am sentenc'd to eternal woe!—
Eternal? yes, eternal, and eternal—
A little hour ago we might have liv'd
In amity fraternal—but alas!
When stern Bellona seem'd, with step-dame look,
To lour upon our arms, I daub'd this point
With unguent, bought of mountebank, so pois'nous,
That if the Æsculapian deity,
Instead of my poor brother, had been scratch'd,
In half an hour the god himself were mortal.
Goos.
Then thou hast done a deed the very devils
Would startle at—secure the murd'ring chief.
Mad.
(raving)
Ha! who art thou with catcall in thy hand,
Whose looks malign, and yellow eyes bespeak
A jaundic'd mind?—by hell! thou art the monster
Yclep'd a critick—seize him, devils! seize him!
Whip him with scorpion's stings, and rods of iron!
Roast him in elemental fire, and baste
His hissing frame with boiling sulphur, mix'd
With his own gall.
O my poor raging child!
Buck.
O monster! monster!
(beats his breast.
Mad.
Zembla's isles of ice
Are in me—how I shiver!—cold! cold! cold!
( Ghosts of Cabbagino and Trulletta rise.)
Angels, and ministers of grace, defend me!—
They wave me—stay, ye dear illusions; stay!
I come to join you.
(Ghosts descend.
Ly.
Help! O help to hold him!
Mad.
Hark! how it thunders!—what a flash was there!
The temple's all on fire—see how the naked clerks
And gownless vestals from the windows leap,
To 'scape the flaming ruin—off your ruffian hands,
Ye damn'd inhuman dogs—ye shall not part us—
Nor life, nor death, nor heaven, nor hell shall part us—
Trulletta—oh! they tear—they tear thee from me—
My feeble arms can hold—no longer hold thee—
Oh my Trulletta—Trully—Trull—oh! oh!
(Dies.
Ly.
He's gone! the great, th' immortal bard is gone!
Press.
There crack'd the cordage of a noble heart.
Then drag your chief to justice.
Buck.
Soft, my friends:
I've done the craft some service, and they know it.
Once in the noon of night, at Southwark fair,
When a malignant barber sadly maul'd
A taylor's 'prentice, and traduc'd the trade,
I took by th' throat the circum-dusty dog,
And smote him thus.
(stabs himself with his bodkin and falls.
Yard.
O bloody period!
Buck.
Draw near, Strapada—nearer yet—attend
My last request—comfort my mourning mother—
Thou long hast lov'd her—take her to thy arms,
Dispel her griefs, and—cheer her orphan age.
Strap.
Thy will shall be religiously observ'd.
Buck.
Thus let me thank thee—and—the rest is—oh!
(Dies.
Scou.
Alas! that in one circling sun alone,
A poor lone mother should her two sons lose!
Strap.
The gods enable thee to bear the loss—
Of this unhappy pair—Buckramo's suicide
Forbids the holy rites of funeral—
From hence let fierce contending lovers know
What dire effects from rival discord flow.
'Tis this that shakes each country with alarms,
Gives up hot youth a prey to youthful arms:
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,
And robs the guilty world of a Bard's life.
A Procession.
Our author, more sensibly to heighten the distress of the piece, hath judiciously brought about a discovery that cannot fail of having its proper effect. Discoveries of this kind, and introduced for the same purpose, are frequently met with in dramatic writings. Dr. Humbug.
This cruel exile probably means transportation. This conjecture seems to be strengthen'd by what we are told of Buckramo's father in the first act, viz. that he
On gallow tree.
A little hour ago was given to me.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal—
that no cataplasm so rare—
—can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal.
Should Æsculapius drink it, in five hours,
(For then it works) the god himself were mortal.
In this, and the following speeches of our hero, the author hath shewn uncommon abilities for painting a mad scene. I must ingenuously own, I think it the most natural madness I ever met with. Dr. Humbug.
The ghosts of our heroine, and her father, seem to rise on the same important business with those of Jaffiere and Pierre in Venice Preserved. Dr. Humbug.
This seems to be an imitation of a celebrated actor, who hath the happy art of clipping language in his mock agonies, as
Hamlet.
Our author shews more of the tradesman, than the bard, in the mention of an hempen manufacture; though I think, as a tradesman, it is not much to his credit to speak of a cracking commodity.
Dr. Humbug.
I've done the state some service, and they know it—
------ in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant, and a turband Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state:
I took by th' throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him thus.
O bloody period!
In the representation, instead of this line was added the following speech, which was supply'd by a brother author. Mr. Davis perform'd it so inimitably well, that he was oblig'd to rise from the dead to speak it a second time.
There's but one favour left for me to ask,
Or thee to grant—I pray thee mark it well—
Report my death, just as thou'lt see me play it—
Observe this struggle—See this wriggling twist—
I grind—I writhe—and now I kick—kick out—
A general shudder runs through all my limbs;
And, with a hollow voice, I groan my last—Oh! oh! oh!
[Dies.
This tragedy originally ended with the line,
Forbids the holy rites of funeral—on which the punning critick before-mention'd observ'd, it was an immoral play. Our author took the hint, but could not be prevailed on to annex a moral. I expostulated with him, in the most friendly manner, on the necessity of such termination of the play; but he very obstinately and whimsically insisted, that a moral, unless drawn up in the epilogue, was unnatural, because it is an immediate address to the audience; which audience, the speaker, in his dramatic character, cannot with propriety suppose to be present—that it could not properly be spoken by any of the persons in the drama, unless such person had been present during the whole representation, and was consequently acquainted with every incident in the play— that it was an affront to an audience, to suppose them incapable of drawing a moral from the representation—that it was a modern custom, and, in his opinion,
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.Hamlet.
that many judicious authors had shewn their dislike of such practise, particularly Gay, who severely satiriz'd it in his ingenious and pithy epilogue to the What d'ye call it, viz.
Our stage-play has a moral, and no doubtYou all have wit enough to find it out.
and finally, that our immortal Shakespear seldom or never concluded any of his plays with a moral.
He was so obstinate on the occasion, that it was with no small difficulty I could prevail on him to suffer me to annex the foregoing moral; which the reader may perceive is taken, with slight alteration, from the most finish'd tragedy, that any language hath yet produced, I mean Mr. Addison's Cato.
As I have now ended my annotations, and occasionally scatter'd a few encomia on the play, it will be naturally expected I should give my summary opinion of its merits, which I shall deliver, not so much with the candour of the friend, as the impartiality of the critick. I shall divide the subject of my remarks into three heads, viz. the fable, the manners, and the diction.
As to the fable—but it had quite slipt my memory, that the printer's boy hath been waiting this half hour at my elbow for the finishing note, wherefore I must defer my criticism, till the next edition of this tragedy.
Dr. Humbug. | Madrigal And Trulletta | |