The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 218 : _Gosling_. b.o.o.by, cease!I mean a Play._Sampson_. Oh!_Gosling_. And to crown my joys

_Gosling_. b.o.o.by, cease!

I mean a Play.

_Sampson_. Oh!

_Gosling_. And to crown my joys, 'Twas acted--

_Sampson_. Well, and how--

_Gosling_. It made a noise, A kind of mingled--(_as if musing_).

_Sampson_. Aye, describe it, try.

_Gosling_. Like--Were you ever in the pillory?

_Sampson_. No, Sir, I thank ye, no such kind of game.

_Gosling_. Bate but the eggs, and it was much the same.

Shouts, clamours, laughs, and a peculiar sound, 'Like, like--

_Sampson_. Like geese, I warrant, in a pound.

I like this mainly!

_Gosling_. Some began to cough, Some cried--

_Sampson_. Go on--

_Gosling_. A few--and some--"Go off!"

I can't suppress it. G.o.ds! I hear it now; It was in fact a most confounded row.

Dire was the din, as when some storm confounds Earth, sea, and sky, with all terrific sounds.

Not hungry lions sent forth notes more strange, Not bulls and bears, that have been hoaxed on 'Change.

_Sampson_. Exeter 'Change you mean--I've seen they bears.

_Gosling_. The beasts I mean are far less tame than theirs.

Change Alley Bruins, nattier though their dress, Might at Polito's study politesse.

Brief let me be. My gentle Sampson, pray, Fight Larry Whack, but never write a play.

_Sampson_. I won't, Sir: and these christian souls pet.i.tion, To spare all wretched folks in such condition.

EPILOGUE TO AN AMATEUR PERFORMANCE OF "RICHARD II."

(1824)

Of all that act, the hardest task is theirs, Who, bred no Players, play at being Players; Copy the shrug--in Kemble once approved;-- Mere mimics' mimics--nature twice removed.

Shades of a shadow! who but must have seen The stage-struck hero, in some swelling scene Aspiring to be Lear--stumble on Kean?

The admired actor's faults our steps betray,-- No less his very beauties lead astray!

In "sad civility" once Garrick sate To see a Play, mangled in form and state; Plebeian Shakspeare must the words supply,-- The actors all were Fools--of Quality.

The scenes--the dresses--were above rebuke;-- Scarce a Performer there below a Duke.

He sate, and mused how in his Shakspeare's mind The idea of old n.o.bility enshrined Should thence a grace and a refinement have Which pa.s.sed these living n.o.bles to conceive,-- Who with such apish, base gesticulation, Remnants of starts, and dregs of playhouse pa.s.sion, So foul belied their great forefathers' fas.h.i.+on!

He saw--and true n.o.bility confessed Less in the high-born blood, than lowly poet's breast.

If Lords enacting Lords sometimes may fail, What gentle plea, Spectators, can avail For wight of low degree who dares to stir The long-raked ashes of old Lancaster, And on his nothing-martial front to set Of warlike Gaunt the lofty burgonet?

For who shall that Plantagenet display, Majestical in sickness and decay?

Or paint the shower of pa.s.sions fierce and thick On Richard's head--that Royal Splenetic?

Your pardon, not your plaudits, then we claim If we've come short, where Garrick had been tame!

PROLOGUE TO SHERIDAN KNOWLES' COMEDY, "THE WIFE"

(1833)

_Untoward_ fate no luckless wight invades More sorely than the Man who drives _two trades_; Like Esop's bat, between two natures placed, Scowl'd at by _mice_, among the _birds_ disgraced.

Our author thus, of two-fold fame exactor, Is doubly scouted,--both as Bard, and Actor!

Wanting in haste a Prologue, he applied To three poetic friends; was thrice denied.

Each glared on him with supercilious glance, As on a Poor Relation met by chance; And one was heard, with more repulsive air, To mutter "Vagabond," "Rogue," "Strolling Player!"

A poet once, he found--and look'd aghast-- By turning actor, he had lost his _caste_.

The verse patch'd up at length--with like ill fortune His friends behind the scenes he did importune To speak his lines. He found them all fight shy, Nodding their heads in cool civility.

"There service in the Drama was enough, The poet might recite the poet's stuff!"

The rogues--they like him hugely--but it stung 'em, Somehow--to think a Bard had got among 'em.

Their mind made up--no earthly pleading shook it, In pure compa.s.sion 'till I undertook it.

Disown'd by Poets, and by Actors too, Dear Patrons of both arts, he turns to you!

If in your hearts some tender feelings dwell From sweet Virginia, or heroic Tell: If in the scenes which follow you can trace What once has pleased you--an unbidden grace-- A touch of nature's work--an awkward start Or ebullition of an Irish heart-- Cry, clap, commend it! If you like them not, Your former favours cannot be forgot.

Condemn them--d.a.m.n them--hiss them, if you will-- Their author is your grateful servant still!

EPILOGUE TO SHERIDAN KNOWLES' COMEDY, "THE WIFE"

(1833)

When first our Bard his simple will express'd, That I should in his Heroine's robes be dress'd, My fears were with my vanity at strife, How I could act that untried part--a "Wife."

But Fancy to the Grison hills me drew, Where Mariana like a wild flower grew, Nursing her garden-kindred: so far I Liked her condition, willing to comply With that sweet single life: when, with a cranch, Down came that thundering, cras.h.i.+ng avalanche, Startling my mountain-project! "Take this spade,"

Said Fancy then; "dig low, adventurous Maid, For hidden wealth." I did: and, Ladies, lo! } Was e'er romantic female's fortune so, } To dig a life-warm lover from the--snow? }

A Wife and Princess see me next, beset With subtle toils, in an Italian net; While knavish Courtiers, stung with rage or fear, Distill'd lip-poison in a husband's ear.

I ponder'd on the boiling Southern vein; Racks, cords, stilettos, rush'd upon my brain!

By poor, good, weak Antonio, too disowned-- I dream'd each night, I should be Desdemona'd: And, being in Mantua, thought upon the shop, Whence fair Verona's youth his breath did stop: And what if Leonardo, in foul scorn, Some lean Apothecary should suborn To take my hated life? A "tortoise" hung Before my eyes, and in my ears scaled "alligators" rung.

But _my_ Oth.e.l.lo, to his vows more zealous-- Twenty Iagos could not make _him_ jealous!

New raised to reputation, and to life-- } At your commands behold me, without strife, } Well-pleased, and ready to repeat--"The Wife." }