His tragi-comic countenance, and strid,
With hearty laughter shakes our quav'ring side.
Some, not content their excellence to show,
Strive to reveal their imperfections too.
Confin'd to proper walks wou'd actors be,
All wou'd appear with more propriety.
Yet I allow that, in the comic scene,
Some who excel, excel in tragic strain:
And some, who justly reach the tragic style,
In comic scenes as justly make us smile:
He who, in Rule a Wife,' can hit the part
Of ideot folly, must then rouze the heart,
Lose in becoming dignity the fool,
And prove with tragic grandeur he will rule.
Nor do th' Othello's of the stage disdain,
In hum'rous guise, to touch the comic vein,
To change the heroe for the fat old knight,
And with Jack Falstaff's drollery delight.
Fame gives this rule, if we to fame may trust, Tragedians only act a Falstaff just:
In this, indeed, long famous have they been,
For Betterton was matchless, now is Quin.
"Tis not sufficient to repeat a part
With proper accent; it must reach the heart:
The actor to the audience must reveal,
He has the will, and faculty to feel:
Mov'd in himself, all others he controuls,
Commands their thoughts, and agitates their souls.
When Cato gives his little senate laws,
What bosom pants not in his gen'rous cause?
But shou'd, while we the character revere,
See the great patriot sink into the play'r;
See him look round box, gallery, and pit,
Nor the least seeming thought of Rome admit;
Who wou'd not laugh to think that this survey
Was to mark out some friend, as, who shou'd say,
Pox o' this stuff-Let Rome be lost or won,
We'll drink our bottle when the play is done.'
All actors are to seem what they are not;
Which to perform, themselves must be forgot:
Their mind must lost in character be shown,
Nor once betray a passion of their own;
Must to the business of the stage attend,
And heighth of action with their silence blend:
Cr in the front, aside, or back retir'd,
Something to do, or seem, is still requir'd:
This common rule shou'd practis'd be by all,
From Jobson chaunting in the cobler's stall,
To Cæsar thund'ring in the capitol.
'Tis not enough if you can catch the cue,
A strict attention's to the audience due;
Gaze not around on them; they do not pay
To see you turn spectators, but to play.
If you are curious, there are other means,
From the loop'd curtain, or behind the scenes.
When in old parts you venture to pursue
A manner of your own, to make them new,
Still to the character be strictly true.
To act Macheath more merit must you bring,
Than thrill a ballad, and with quaver sing;
A manly gesture and a sprightly air
Must with a proper dignity appear;
The gay mock heroe must our passions move,
By joy, by courage, in distress, and love.
Some parts 'tis danger to attempt at all,
When late we've seen a great original;
We by the first impression are so wrought,
All copies, though well copy'd, have much fault:
Nor is this partial prejudice alone;
The author's sense to the first actor's shown:
In the full spirit, and becomes his own:
Hence, Walker, though we many Macheaths view,
The standard excellence remains in you.
Sometimes a poet, studiously absurd,
Fit for one person only writes each word :
Or could Miss Lucy the first night survive,
Had not each word adapted been for Clive?
Lucy, or Lappet, or her fav'rite Nell,
May copy'd be-she only will excell.
Some to the stage unus'd, unskill'd, untaught,
To charm at first appearance have been brought,
And, of applause secure, assume a part
Requires experience and the nicest art;
The pompous bill proclaims it o'er and o'er,
They ne'er appcar'd on any stage' before
And when they've once appear'd--appear no more.
So have I seen large-letter'd bills proclaim,
(In red lines France was mark'd, in black the name)
The celebrated Hn was to dance
His first performance since arriv'd from France:
-The house was crowded;-the third act was done;
A chorus figur'd entry brought him on:
He came ;-he caper'd once; and off he run.—
The pomp so solemn ended in a joke,
For, ah! the string that ty'd his breeches broke.
Vain all the puffs to publick papers sent;
Vain all the arts ev'n C--bb-r could invent;
+Miss Lucy: a character in the Virgin Unmask'd.
What skill do bills or advertisements lend?
On merit only must success depend.
Booth ne'er attempted, in a pompous way,
To reach perfection in his first essay;
Through many countries had he stroling been,
Trod many stages, and play'd many a scene,
Before the British Roscius he became;
And fix'd, while Britain's stage shall last, his name:
He knew experienc'd truths must gain his cause,
Nor made small fame to follow small applause;
Commanding of respect, his step, his look,
Invited all attention e're he spoke :
With what a majesty he mov'd along!
How tuneful flow'd the periods of his tongue!
Inform'd by nature, and improv'd by art,
Speaking, or silent, he won ev'ry heart,
Or all admiring listen'd with surprize,
Or on his graceful form they fed their raptur'd eyes;
The fiction lost, they realiz'd the scene,
And saw entranc'd a heroe live again.
"Tis said, as actors on the stage make known
All others foibles, nor reveal their own,
Many there are, who've sat out many 'play,
Nor went near the twelfth hour fatigu'd away;
Who on the stage the players have admir'd,
Have wish'd to know their humours, when retir'd :
They of strange things behind the curtain hear,
And wonder what those famous green rooms are.
For fame says many go behind the scenes,
To romp with goddesses, and joke with queens,
With half-drunk bishops talk of smutty things,
Bow'd to by emp'rors, and shook hands by kings.
There scenes conceal'd from common light arise,
Whose humour pleases, and whose themes surprise:
In all according to their rank you find
Various behaviour, and as various mind;
All with peculiar oddities engage,
From him who sweeps, to him who rules the stage.
These, MUSE, relate:-But why this sudden pause,
Vers'd in their arts, their humours, and their laws?
When what to think and what to say I know,
Why will not ev'n prosaic numbers flow?
-Some God indulgent twitches by the ear,
And kindly whispers, Too rash bard, forbear;
Enough hast thou traduc'd Horatian rules,
Indulging fancy, and describing fools;
In imitation should your verse succeed,
'When such the subject, who the verse will read ?
'What publick benefit will it impart
To know a player's humour, or his art?
Humour be what it will, if just, is lov'd-,
E're you write more see what you've wrote approv'de
Then of the stage the various theme prolong,
Or wisely here for ever close your song.'
NENNIUS, A WORTHY BRITON,
The very Pattern of a valiant, noble, and faithful Subject, Encountering with Julius Cæsar, at his first Coming into this Island, was by him Death-wounded; yet nevertheless he got Cæsar's Sword, put him to Flight, slew therewith Labienus, a tribune of the Romans, endured Fight till his Countrymen won the Battle, died fifteen Days after. And now encourageth all good Subjects to defend their Country from the Power of foreign and usurping Enemies.
About the Year before Christ, 52.
MAY, by right, some later writers blame.
Of stories old, as rude, or negligent;
Or else I may them well unlearned name,
Or heedless, in those things about they went:
Some time on me as well they might have spent,
As on such traitors, tyrants, harlots, those,
Which, to their countries, were the deadliest foes.
Me, for myself, I would not this recite,
Although I have occasion good thereto;
But sure, methinks, it is too great despite,
These men to others, and their countries, do:
For there are Britons, neither one or two,
Whose names in stories scarcely once appear,
And yet their lives examples worthy were.
Tis worthy praise, I grant, to write the ends.
Of vicious men, and teach the like beware:
For what hath he of virtue, that commends
Such persons lewd, as nought of virtues care?
But for to leave out those praise-worthy are
Is like as if a man had not the skill
To praise the good, but discommend the ill.
I crave no praise, although myself deserv'd
As great a laud, as any Briton yore:
But I would have it told how well I serv'd
My prince and country, faith to both I bore:
All noble hearts hereby, with courage more,
May both their foreign foes in fight withstand,
And of their enemies have the upper hand.
Again, to shew how valiant then we were,
You Britons good, to move your hearts thereby
All other nations less in fight to fear,
And, for your country, rather so to die,
With valiant, haughty courage, as did I,
Than live in bondage, service, slavery, thrall
Of foreign powers, which hate your manhood all:
Do give me leave to speak but even a while,
And mark, and write this story 1 thee tell:
By north from London, more than fifty mile,
There lies the Isle of Ely, known full well,
Wherein my father built a place to dwell;
And, for because he liked well the same,
He gave the place' He Ely hight,' his name.
'Tis nam'd the Isle of Ely, yet, perdy,
My father nam'd it so; yet writers miss,
Or, if I may be bold to say, they lye
Of him, which tell that far untruth-like is.
What truth, I pray you, seems to be in this?
He Ely lov'd, a goodly place built there,
Most it delighted, reign'd not full a year.
He reigned forty years, as others tell;
Which seems, as 'tis a tale, more true by far: By justice guided he his subjects well,
And liv'd in peace, without the broils of war:
His children's noble acts in stories are,
In vulgar tongue; but nought is said of me,
And yet I worthy was, the young'st of three.
His eldest son and heir was after King;
A noble prince, and he was named Lud; Ful! politick and wise in every thing,
And one that will'd his country always good: Such uses, customs, statutes he withstood, As seem'd to bring the publick weal's decay, And them abolish'd, broke, repeal'd away.
Lanquet, Stowe, Grafton, Flores Historici.
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