Causeless jealousy in Britomartis, v. 6, 14, in its restlessness. "Like as a wayward child, whose sounder sleep But kicks and squalls, and shrieks for fell despite; Curiosity occasioned by jealousy, upon occasion of her lover's absence. Ibid. Stan. 8, 9. "Then as she look'd long, at last she spy'd Care and his house are described thus, iv. 6, 33, 34, 35. "Not far away, nor meet for any guest, They spy'd a little cottage, like some poor man's nest. 34. "There entering in, they found the good man's self, Who was so weel a wretched wearish elf, With hollow eyes and rawbone cheeks far spent, As if he had in prison long been pent. full black and griesly did his face appear, Besmear'd with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent, The which he never wont to comb, or comely shear. "Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent, His blistered hands amongst the cinders brent, • Homer's epithets were much admired by antiquity: see what great justness and variety there are in these epithets of the trees in the forest, where the Redcross Knight lost Truth. B. i. Cant. i. Stan. 8, 9. " The sailing pine, the cedar proud and tall, The aspine good for staves, the cypress funeral. 9. "The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors, The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound." • I shall trouble you no more, but desire you to let me conclude with these verses, though I think they have already been quoted by you. They are directions to young ladies oppressed with calumny, vi. 6, 14. "The best (said he) that I can you advise, For when the cause whence evil doth arise. Abstain from pleasure and restrain your will, So shall you soon repair your present evil plight." T. N° 541. THURSDAY, NOV. 20, 1712, Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 108. For nature forms and softens us within, ROSCOMMON. My friend the Templar, whom I have so often mentioned in these writings, having determined to lay aside his poetical studies, in order to a closer pursuit of the law, has put together, as a farewell essay, some thoughts concerning pronunciation and action, which he has given me leave to communicate to the public. They are chiefly collected from his favourite author Cicero, who is known to have been an intimate friend of Roscius the actor, and a good judge of dramatic performances, as well as the most eloquent pleader of the time in which he Cicero concludes his celebrated books De Ora tore with some precepts for pronunciation and action, without which part he affirms that the best orator in the world can never succeed; and an indifferent one, who is master of this, shall gain much greater applause. • What could make a stronger impression,' says he, 'than those exclamations of Gracchus?" Whether shall I turn? Wretch that I am! to what place betake myself? Shall I go to the Capitol? Alas! it is overflowed with my brother's blood. Or shall I retire to my house? Yet there I behold my mother plunged in misery, weeping and despairing!"" These breaks and turns of passion, it seems, were so inforced by the eyes, voice, and gesture of the speaker, that his very enemies could not refrain from tears. ' I insist,' says Tully, upon this the rather, because our orators, who are as it were actors of the truth itself, have quitted this manner of speaking; and the players, who are but the imitators of truth, have taken it up.' 6 I shall therefore pursue the hint he has here given me, and for the service of the British stage Lshall copy some of the rules which this great Roman master has laid down; yet without confining myself wholly to his thoughts or words: and to adapt this essay the more to the purpose for which I intend it, instead of the examples he has inserted in this discourse out of the ancient tragedies, I shall make use of parallel passages out of the most celebrated of our own. The design of art is to assist action as much as possible in the representation of nature; for the appearance of reality is that which moves us in all representations, and these have always the greater force the nearer they approach to nature, and the less they show of imitation. Nature herself has assigned to every motion of the soul its peculiar cast of the countenance, tone of voice, and manner of gesture, through the whole person; all the features of the face and tones of the voice answer, like strings upon musical instruments, to the impressions made on them by the mind. Thus the sounds of the voice, according to the various touches which raise them, form themselves into an acute or grave, quick or slow, loud or soft, tone. These too may be subdivided into various kinds of tones, as the gentle, the rough, the contracted, the diffuse, the continued, the intermitted, the broken, abrupt, winding, softened, or elevated. Every one of these may be employed with art and judgement; and all supply the actor, as colours do the painter, with an expressive variety. Anger exerts its peculiar voice in an acute, raised, and hurrying sound. The passionate character of king Lear, as it is admirably drawn by Shakspeare, abounds with the strongest instances of this kind. 1 Death! Confusion! Fiery! what quality?-why Gloster! Gloster! &c. Sorrow and complaint demand a voice quite dif ferent; flexible, slow, interrupted, and modulated in a mournful tone: as in that pathetical soliloquy of cardinal Wolsey on his fall. • Farewell!-a long farewell to all my greatness! |