“ There is in the performance of this player, all the delicacy of taste, and all the dignity of expression that we reverence in the painter: his figures, where the subject gives him scope, are noble almost beyond imagination, his attitudes the most strictly appropriated to the sensations that inspire them, and his colouring, to borrow a metaphor from the sister art to express an excellence for which the other has yet no word of its own, is the greatest that we ever did or ever must expect to see. ”

“ Enter Ottilia.
Otti. I find thee punctual.
'Tis well for thee thou art so. By my life,
If thou hadst failed me I had sought the king.
Where is the priest? On to the chapel.
Cæsa. Stay,
And hear me! for the hour is come that weighs
Our fates in the same balance. Thus then briefly,
Thou art most fair, in wit most choice and subtle,
In all rare talents still surpassing all,
And for these gifts, and thy long tried affection,
I feel I owe thee much, owe thee firm friendship,
Eternal gratitude, faith, favour, love,
And all things save my hand. ”

“ Dwyer's Belcour was a most elegant and accomplished specimen of genteel acting—chaste, graceful, and where the character required and admitted it, interesting and impressive. And we had the satisfaction to perceive as the play advanced the audience conformed more and more to the same opinion. It is greatly to Mr. Dwyer's credit that all the applause he received, was extorted by his own merit, and drawn like drops of blood reluctantly distilled from languid hearts. ”

“ I'll be thy wife or nothing.
Cæsa. Lady, Lady,
You know not what you ask.
Otti. I know myself
Worthy of what I ask, and know my power,
Which you, it seems, forget. Is not my dowry
Your life and crown? Let me but speak one word,
And straight your fancied throne becomes a scaffold.
No more, but to the chapel.
Cæsa. If to move thee
Ought would avail——
Otti. It cannot.
Cæsa. Once a king——
Otti. I share thy throne.
Cæsa. 'Mid all Castile's first honours
Make thou thy choice——
Otti. 'Tis made.
Cæsa. And still remaining
My friend, my love——
Otti. ”

“ Cæsa. Distraction!
Amel. Must observe, how calm the transit,
How light the pain, how free death's cup from bitter,
When virtue soothes, and hope exalts the soul,
I've seen a sinner die; Last night I closed
Ottilia's lids, and 'twas a night of horror!
[Pg 21] Each limb, each nerve was writhed by strange convulsions,
Clenched were her teeth, her eye-balls fixed and glaring;
She foamed, she raved, and her last words were curses!——
But look, Cæsario!—I can die, and smile!
[Sinks into Estella's arms.
Cæsa. [In despair.] My life!—My soul!——
Amel. ”

“ The triumph of Cordelia would certainly draw from us an instantaneous acknowledgment of satisfaction: but the impression could not be lasting; while her fall is fixed more deeply on the attention, and raises a more permanent feeling of pity for her sufferings, and indignation against her persecutors. Shakspeare must have thought so, when he chose, in violation of the truth of history, to deprive her of poetical justice. To conclude the question relative to the catastrophe, it is utterly impossible that the mind of Lear should be capable of surviving so violent a change of circumstances. ”

“ Who, when my death was signed, smiled full as sweetly?
No, no, I'll none on't. [Seeing Cæsario.]
Plagues and fiends! another!
More gold and silk; more musk, fair words, and lying!
Will these court flies ne'er cease to buz around me?
Well, sir, what seek ye here?
Cæsa. Revenge.
Orsi. Indeed!
On whom?
Cæsa. On lawless power. Ask ye for what?
A father's wrongs and mother's murder!
Orsi. (starting.) How!
That voice—Let me look on thee well—Those lips,
Those eyes—Oh Heaven! those eyes, too! I ne'er saw
But one have eyes like thine, an earthly angel,
And with the angels now. ”

“ On guilt, thyself so guilty? Canst thou hope
Castile will trust her to thee? God forbid!
Mad is that nation, mad past thought of cure,
Past chains and dungeons, whips, spare food, and fasting,
Who yields the immortal man a patriot's name,
And looks in private vice for public virtue.
Thou play the patriot's part! Away, away!
Who wounds his country is the worst of monsters;
But good men only should presume to serve her.
Thy guilt once seen——
Cæsa. ”

“ Which wrings with anguish Amelrosa's bosom?
She loves her father——
Cæsa. Loves she not her husband?
Hen. She'll hate him, when she knows——
Cæsa. She ne'er shall know it!
All shall be held her rebel brother's deed;
And while contending passions shake the rabble,
(Grief for the sire, resentment 'gainst the son;
And pity for the princess) forth I'll step,
Avow our marriage, claim the crown her right,
And, when she mounts the throne, ascend it with her.
Hen. Oh! she will drown that bloody throne with tears!
And should she learn who bade them flow——
Cæsa. ”

“ Woodward strikes the judicious eye with a strong resemblance of Paul Veronese: he has all the vivacity and ease of that great painter, and fully equals him in his fancy for the singular and the shining in his draperies; but, as he shares his beauties, he is not without his faults. His composition is sometimes improper, and his design always incorrect; but with these blemishes, however, his colouring is so well calculated to catch the eye, that he never fails to strike at first sight, and makes so happy an impression on the generality of an audience, that they never perceive what is deficient. ”

“ Much is owing, therefore, to the manager for presenting us with the Africans.
Among the dramatists of the day Mr. Colman stands in our opinion, very high—if not highest. Some of his plays are noble productions, but by that of which we are now speaking, his fame will not be greatly augmented. Of the fable it is sufficient to say, that it is taken from Florian, who, as a pastoral writer, equals Cervantes himself. Like every thing of Florian's the tale is divinely beautiful; but the selection of it for the stage evinces a want of judgment, of which Mr. Colman is rarely liable to be accused. ”

“ Envy—of his servant's superior wit—distress—to retrieve, the occasion [Pg 383] he had lost. Shame—to confess his folly; and yet a sullen desire, to be reconciled and better advised for the future! what tragedy ever showed us such a tumult of passions rising at once in one bosom! or what buskined hero standing under the load of them, could have more effectually moved his spectators, by the most pathetic speech, than poor miserable Nokes did, by this silent eloquence, and piteous plight of his features? ”

“ While Bellamy assumes the piety, the tenderness, and the sorrows of a Cordelia, or heightens the repentance of a Shore, we own that a Tintoret has done some pictures equal to Corregio. The first of these is the painter to whom I would resemble this rising actress, the latter only breathes in Cibber. No woman ever excelled Miss Bellamy in the requisites from nature, and were but her love to the profession, her application to its necessary studies, and her patience in going through the difficulties that lie in the road to eminence in it, equal to her abilities, she would have few equals. ”

“ Where dwells Orsino?
Amel. In the neighbouring forest
He lives a hermit: Inis knows the place.
Alfon. Ere night I'll seek him there. And now farewell
Ever beloved, but now more loved than ever!
Oh! still as now watch o'er and timely check
My hasty nature; still, their guardian-angel,
Protect my people, e'en from me protect them:
Then, after ages, pondering o'er the page
Which bears my name, shall see, and seen shall bless
That union most beloved of man and heaven,
A patriot monarch, and a people free! ”

“ He was educated under the illustrious Theophrastus, from whom he learned philosophy and composition. While a brilliant genius directed him to comic poetry, his natural delicacy, his refined taste, his moral rectitude, and true philosophy controlled his fancy, imparted to his comedies a charm unknown before, and obtained for them the suffrage of the most enlightened, witty, and judicious men of his age, though for the same reason they were, as Hamlet says, caviere to the multitude, and never did please the corrupted and malicious multitude of Athens. ”

“ Had Shakspeare chosen, according to the "faith of chronicles," to represent Cordelia triumphant; had he adorned the scenes of poetical justice with his peculiar spirit, and nature, and poetry; then indeed the excellencies of the drama, though different in kind, would probably have been equal in magnitude: though I think it very doubtful, whether even then the change of the catastrophe would not have been a deformity, rather than an improvement. Unquestionably our affection for persecuted virtue is strengthened by the very distresses in which it is involved. ”

“ Where is Ottilia?
Cæsa. (dashing down the goblet) Dead!
Dead, Marquis! At that word how the vault rings,
And the ground shakes. It shall not shake my purpose.
Murder and I are grown familiar, friends.
The assassin's trade is sweet. I've tasted blood,
And thirst for more. Say, is the mine——
Mel. All's ready.
Cæsa. Who fires the train?
Hen. Mel. and all the conspirators. I, I!
Cæsa. Oh, cheerful cry!
Oh! glorious strife for guilt: Let each man throw
His dagger in my casque; be his the service,
Whose steel I draw.
Hen. 'Tis me——
Cæsa. ”

“ Nokes was an actor of a quite different genius from any I have ever read, heard of, or seen, since or before his time; and yet his general excellence may be comprehended in one article, viz. a plain and palpable simplicity of nature, which was so utterly his own, that he was often as unaccountably diverting in his common speech, as on the stage. I saw him once, giving an account of some table talk, to another actor behind the scenes, which a man of quality accidentally listening to, was so deceived by his manner, that he asked him if that was a new play he was rehearsing? ”

“ As a simple, yet animated picture of natural genius, forcing its way through the impediments which waylay early poverty, and breaking forth like the sun in meridian splendor after a morning of tempest, clouds, and darkness, it will be a fit companion for that of Hodgkinson. As a piece of composition, it is perhaps the very finest specimen to be found in any language of the unaffected, unadorned modest style that becomes a biographer, and particularly a writer of his own life. ”

“ Scene III.—A field of battle—alarums—thunder and lightning. Soldiers cross the stage fighting. Enter Orsino.
Orsi. Oh! shame, shame, shame!—Sun, thou dost well to hide thee,
Nor light Castile's disgrace.—Oh! I could tear
My flesh for rage!
Enter Ricardo.
Ricar. All's lost!—the foe prevails!
What must be done, Orsino?
Orsi. Where's the king?
Ricar. He fights still.
Orsi. Seek him! save him! bid him fly,
Fly with all speed: thou know'st to find his courser.
Away!
Ricar. General, thou'rt wounded!
Orsi. 'Tis no matter.
Ricar. Thou'lt bleed to death.——
Orsi. ”

“ The summit of attainment in that delightful science seldom reaching higher than the accompanying of a song so as to set off a tolerable voice, or aid a weak one, and the attracting a circle of beaus round a young lady, while she exhibits the nimbleness of her fingers in the execution of a darling waltz, or touches the hearts of the fond youths with a plaintive melody accompanied with false notes. ”

“ The historian, fame—and the philosopher, heaven and earth.
What are the most rare animals in the world?
A rich man contented with his fortune. A man distinguished by genius and not by defects. A courtier grown old. A learned man who knows himself. A virgin who is beautiful to every body but herself. A prime minister who possesses honesty; who has the interest of his country, not that of himself or his associates, at heart.
Addison's pedigree of Wit.
Good Sense is his father, Truth his grandfather, and Mirth and Good Humour are his chosen companions. ”