Genre Drama. Page - 3

in the morning we go to the pump-room (though neither my master nor I drink the waters); after breakfast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards; at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: their regular hours stupify me--not a fiddle nor a card after eleven!--However, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties;--I'll introduce you there, Thomas--you'll like him much.

THOMAS Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne--you know his master is to marry Madam Julia.

FAG I had forgot.--But, Thomas, you must polish a little--indeed you must.--Here now--this wig!--What the devil do you do with a wig, Thomas?--None of the London whips of any degree of ton wear wigs now.

THOMAS More's the pity! more's the pity! I say.--Odd's life! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how 'twould go next:--odd rabbit it! when the fashion had got foot on the bar, I guessed 'twould mount to the box!--but 'tis all out of character

ntention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.

LORD BARDOLPH.
Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Good, an God will!

LORD BARDOLPH.
As good as heart can wish:
The king is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John,
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field:
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times,
Since Caesar's fortunes!

NORTHUMBERLAND.
How is this derived?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

LORD BARDOLPH.
I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman

ts maywell rank as Ibsen's greatest work. It was the play which firstgave the full measure of his technical and spiritual originalityand daring. It has done far more than any other of his plays to"move boundary-posts." It has advanced the frontiers of dramaticart and implanted new ideals, both technical and intellectual, inthe minds of a whole generation of playwrights. It ranks withHernani and _La Dame aux Camélias_ among the epoch-making playsof the nineteenth century, while in point of essential originalityit towers above them. We cannot, I think, get nearer to the truththan Georg Brandes did in the above-quoted phrase from his firstnotice of the play, describing it as not, perhaps, the poet'sgreatest work, but certainly his noblest deed. In another essay,Brandes has pointed to it, with equal justice, as marking Ibsen'sfinal breach with his early-one might almost say his hereditaryromanticism. He here becomes, at last, "the most modern of themoderns." "This, I am convinced," s

the tutor of Aglaea. Agathon, Aglaea's father, they say has left her great wealth. Aglaea is adorable. I idolize Aglaea. I must marry Aglaea and I must deal tactfully with Socrates while waiting to hang him.

DRIXA: Deal tactfully with Socrates in order that I may have my young man. But why did Agathon allow his daughter into the clutches of that old, flat nosed Socrates, that insufferable fault-finder who corrupts the young and prevents them from frequenting courtesans and the holy mysteries?

ANITUS: Agathon was infatuated with the same principles. He was one of those sober and serious types who have different morals from ours; who are from another country, and who are our sworn enemies, who think they've fulfilled all their duties when they've adored divinity, helped humanity, cultivated friendship and studied philosophy; one of those folks who insolently pretend that the gods have not inscribed the future in the liver of an ox; one of those pitiless dialecticians who find fault with priests f

s postman when I grow up.

WATCHMAN. Ha! ha! Postman, indeed! Rain or shine, rich orpoor, from house to house delivering letters--that's very greatwork!

AMAL. That's what I'd like best. What makes you smile so? Oh,yes, your work is great too. When it is silent everywhere in theheat of the noonday, your gong sounds, Dong, dong, dong,-- andsometimes when I wake up at night all of a sudden and find ourlamp blown out, I can hear through the darkness your gong slowlysounding, Dong, dong, dong!

WATCHMAN. There's the village headman! I must be off. If hecatches me gossiping with you there'll be a great to do.

AMAL. The headman? Whereabouts is he?

WATCHMAN. Right down the road there; see that huge palm-leafumbrella hopping along? That's him!

AMAL. I suppose the King's made him our headman here?

WATCHMAN. Made him? Oh, no! A fussy busy-body! He knows somany ways of making himself unpleasant that everybody is afraidof him. It's just a game for the likes of him, making

chain off my leg and gits away safe. Maybe I does all dat an' maybe I don't. It's a story I tells you so's you knows I'se de kind of man dat if you evah repeats one words of it, I ends yo' stealin' on dis yearth mighty damn quick!

SMITHERS--(terrified) Think I'd peach on yer? Not me! Ain't I always been yer friend?

JONES--(suddenly relaxing) Sho' you has -- and you better be.

SMITHERS--(recovering his composure--and with it his malice) And just to show yer I'm yer friend, I'll tell yer that bit o' news I was goin' to.

JONES--Go ahead! Shoot de piece. Must be bad news from de happy way you look.

SMITHERS--(warningly) Maybe it's gettin' time for you to resign -- with that bloomin' silver bullet, wot? (He finishes with a mocking grin.)

JONES--(puzzled) What's dat you say? Talk plain.

SMITHERS--Ain't noticed any of the guards or servants about the place today, I 'aven't.

JONES--(carelessly) Dey'r

he samovar has been on the table fortwo hours, and they are all out walking!

VOITSKI. All right, don't get excited; here they come.

Voices are heard approaching. SEREBRAKOFF, HELENA, SONIA, andTELEGIN come in from the depths of the garden, returning fromtheir walk.

SEREBRAKOFF. Superb! Superb! What beautiful views!

TELEGIN. They are wonderful, your Excellency.

SONIA. To-morrow we shall go into the woods, shall we, papa?

VOITSKI. Ladies and gentlemen, tea is ready.

SEREBRAKOFF. Won't you please be good enough to send my tea intothe library? I still have some work to finish.

SONIA. I am sure you will love the woods.

HELENA, SEREBRAKOFF, and SONIA go into the house. TELEGIN sitsdown at the table beside MARINA.

VOITSKI. There goes our learned scholar on a hot, sultry day likethis, in his overcoat and goloshes and carrying an umbrella!

ASTROFF. He is trying to take good care of his health.

VOITSKI. How lovely she is! How lovely! I have never in my lifeseen a more beautifu

to St. John's College, Cambridge." He tells us that he took nodegree, but was later "Master of Arts in both the universities, bytheir favour, not his study." When a mere youth Jonson enlisted asa soldier, trailing his pike in Flanders in the protracted wars ofWilliam the Silent against the Spanish. Jonson was a large andraw-boned lad; he became by his own account in time exceedinglybulky. In chat with his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden,Jonson told how "in his service in the Low Countries he had, in theface of both the camps, killed an enemy, and taken opima spoliafrom him;" and how "since his coming to England, being appealed tothe fields, he had killed his adversary which had hurt him in thearm and whose sword was ten inches longer than his." Jonson'sreach may have made up for the lack of his sword; certainly hisprowess lost nothing in the telling. Obviously Jonson was brave,combative, and not averse to talking of himself and his doings.

In 1592, Jonson returned from abroad pen

e furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

Mir. Would I might But ever see that man!

Pros. Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170 Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, 175 For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm?

Pros. Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience 180 I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, 185 And give it way: I know thou canst not choose

n Douglas; and the Earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil,
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?

WEST.
Faith, 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of.

KING.
Yea, there thou makest me sad, and makest me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son,--
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine:
But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath sur