Imagens das páginas
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And, for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares;
So that between their titles and low name,

There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

This dialogue, in which Clarence relates to Brakenbury his sublime and terrible dream, occurs in Shakspeare's tragedy of King Richard III. It is one of the best pieces in our language, for a rhetorical exercise. The phrases in italic should be given with great power, and those in small capitals on a still higher key.

Some individuals say they think dialogues are theatrical, and consequently immoral. A dialogue is merely an interchange of sentiment,—a colloquy between two or more persons. Socrates conversed with Cebes and his other friends, during the last day and moments of his life, with a view of convincing them that the soul is immortal. That sublime and solemn dialogue published in Plato's Phedon. The interviews which the apostles had with those to whom they taught the gospel, with each other, and with our Savior himself, may, with propriety, be called dialogues. Conversation is but another word for dialogue.

Dialogues, like single pieces, are rendered good or bad, by the sentiments embodied in them. But even if they were neither good nor bad, in a moral point of view, they would aid the student, very much, in his efforts to become excellently skilled in reading and oratory. In some dialogues, serious characters appear; in others, ludicrous; and this is according to nature. In conversation or dialogues, the intonations and inflections of the voice, are more likely to be correct, than in reading or declaiming single pieces. Gesticulation, too, is generally better. The writer both admits and contends, that the influence of the unnatural manner in which actors sometimes exhibit the passions,-the dresses of some female performers,—the intoxicating drinks used in theatres,-and the bad women that frequent them, is to corrupt morals. As a substitute for the "unlawful pleasures," if indeed they can be called pleasures, to be found at badly conducted theatres; he would recommend those "innocent ones," which may be derived from reading pieces, or exhibiting dialogues, plays, and tragedies of chaste wit, as well as of pathos, beauty, and sublimity,"

86. VIRGINIUS AND LUCIUS.-James Sheridan Knowles.

Lucius. "Tis well you're found, Virginius!
Virginius. What makes you from the city? look!
My Lucius, what a sight you're come to witness.
My brave old comrade, honest Siccius!

Siccius Dentatus, that true son of Rome,

On whose white locks the mother looked more proudly
Than on the raven ones of her youngest and

Most hopeful sons, is nothing but this,

The sign and token of himself! Look, comrades,
Here are the foes have slain him—not a trace

Of any other-not a body stripp'd

Our father has been murdered.

We'll revenge him

Like sons! Take up the body! Bear it to

The camp; and as you move your solemn march,
Be dumb or if you speak, be it but a word;
And be that word-Revenge!

Luc. Virginius!

Vir. I did not mind thee, Lucius !

Uncommon things make common things forgot,
Hast thou a message for me, Lucius? Well!
I'll stay and hear it, but be brief; my heart
Follows poor Dentatus.

Luc You are wanted

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Vir. How is it something can't be told
At once? Speak out, boy! Ha! your looks
are loaded
With matter-Is't so heavy that your tongue
Cannot unburden them? Your brother left
The camp on duty yesterday-hath aught
Happened to him? Did he arrive in safety?
Is he safe? Is he well?

Luc.

He is both safe and well.

Vir. What then? What then? Tell me the matter, Lucius,

Luc. I have said

It shall be told you.

Vir. Shall! I stay not for

That shall, unless it be so close at hand
It stop me not a moment. 'Tis too long
A coming. Fare you well, my Lucius.
Luc. Stay,

Virginius. Hear me then with patience.
Vir. Well,

I am patient.

Luc. Your Virginia

Vir. Stop, my Lucius!

I am cold in every member of my frame!

[Going.

[Returns.

If 'tis prophetic, Lucius, of thy news,

Give me such token as her tomb would, Lucius,
Silence.

I'll bear it better.

Luc. You are still—

Vir. I thank thee, Jupiter! I am still a father!
Luc. You are, Virginius, yet—

Vir. What, is she sick?

Luc. No.

Vir. Neither dead nor sick! All well! No harm! Nothing amiss! Each guarded quarter safe, That fear may lay him down and sleep, and yet This sounding the alarm! I swear thou tell'st A story strangely.-Out with't! I have patience For any thing, since my Virginia lives, And lives in health!

Luc. You are requir'd in Rome,

To answer a most novel suit.

Vir. Whose suit?

Luc. The suit of Claudius,

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Vir.

What!

That pander! Ha! Virginia! you appear
To couple them. What makes my fair Virginia
In company with Claudius? Innocence

Beside lasciviousness! His suit! What suit?
Answer me quickly! Quickly! lest suspense,
Beyond what patience can endure, coercing,
Drive reason from his seat!

Luc. He has claimed Virginia.

Vir. Claimed her! Claimed her!

On what pretence?

Luc. He says she is the child

Of a slave of his, who sold her to thy wife.

Vir.

Luc.

Go on;-you see I'm calm.

He seized her in

The school, and dragged her to the forum, where
Appius was giving judgment.

Vir. Dragg'd her to

The forum! Well! I told you, Lucius,
I would be patient.

Luc.

Vir.

Numitorious there confronted him!
Did he not strike him dead?

True, true, I know it was in presence of

The decemvir-O! had I confronted him!
Well! well! the issue-Well! o'erleap all else,

And light upon the issue! Where is she?

Luc. I was despatched to fetch thee, ere I could learn.
Vir. The claim of Claudius-Appius's client-Ha!
I see the master-cloud-this ragged one,

That lowers before, moves only in subservience
To the ascendant of the other-Jove,

With its own mischief break it and disperse it,
And that be all the ruin! Patience! Prudence!
Nay, prudence, but no patience. Come! a slave
Dragged through the streets in open day! my child!
My daughter! my fair daughter, in the eyes
Of Rome! O! I'll be patient. Come! the essence
Of my best blood in the free common ear
Condemned as vile. O I'll be patient. Come!
O they shall wonder. I will be so patient.

The "Tragedy of Virginius," from which this dialogue is taken, is founded on historical facts. We learn from "Ferguson's Rome," that " Appius Claudius, one of the usurpers, being captivated with the beauty of Virginia, the child of an honorable family, and already betrothed to a person of her own condition, endeavored to make himself master of her person, by depriving her at once of her parentage and of her liberty. For this purpose, under pretence that she had been born in servitude, and that she had been stolen away in her infancy, he suborned a person to claim her as his slave. The decemvir himself being judge in this iniquitous suit, gave judgment against the helpless party, and ordered her to be removed to the house of the person by whom he was claimed. In this affecting scene, the father, under pretence of bidding a last farewell to his child, came forward to embrace her; and, in the presence of the multitude, having then no other means to preserve her honor, he availed himself of the prerogative of a Roman father, and stabbed her to the heart with a knife. The indignation which arose from this piteous sight, reëstablished a patrician administration."

When Virginius tells Lucius,-"You see I'm calm". "O, I'll be patient"-he was greatly agitated; and, of course, those phrases, and other similar ones, are ironical. His deepest indignation was naturally aroused against the lascivious tyrant.

87. SCENE FROM PIZARRO.-Kotzebue.

PIZARRO AND GOMEZ.

Pizarro. How now, Gomez, what bringest thou? Gomez. On yander hill, among the palm trees, we have surprised an old Peruvian. Escape by flight, he could not, and we seized him unresisting.

Piz. Drag him before us. [Gomez leads in Orozembo.] What art thou, stranger?

Orozembo. First tell me who is the captain of this band of

robbers.

Piz. Audacious! This insolence has sealed thy doom. Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian. But first confess what thou knowest.

Oro. I know that of which thou has just assured me, that I shall die.

Piz. Less audacity might have saved thy life. Oro. My life is as a withered tree, not worth preserving. Piz. Hear me, old man. Even now we march against the Peruvian army. We know there is a secret path that leads to your strong hold among the rocks. Guide us to that, and name thy reward. If wealth be thy wishOro. Ha, ha, ha.

Piz. Dost thou despise my offer? Oro. Yes; thee and thy offer! wealth of two gallant sons.

Wealth! I have the

I have stored in heaven, the

riches which repay good actions here! and still my chiefest treasure do I wear about me.

Piz. What is that? Inform me.

Oro. I will; for thou canst never tear it from me. An unsullied conscience.

Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares speak as thou dost.

Oro. Would I could believe there is no other Spaniard who dares act as thou dost.

Gom. Obdurate pagan! how numerous is your army?
Oro. Count the leaves of the forest.

Gom.

Which is the weakest part of your camp?

Oro. It is fortified on all sides by justice.

Gom. Where have you concealed your wives and children? Oro. In the hearts of their husbands and fathers.

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