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spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand—thus; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb show and noise : I could have such a fellow whipp'd for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.
Be not too tame, neither; but let your own discretion be your tutor; suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy of, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of one of which must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh! there be players that I have seen play—and heard others praise, and that highly—not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journey
men had made men, and not made them well; they imitated humanity so abominably.
And let those that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them; for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered ; that's villanous; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687.
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began:
Of jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head,
Arise, ye more than dead.
And Music's power obey. -
The universal frame began :
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
To worship that celestial sound.
Within the hollow of that shell,
That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
The trumpet's loud clangour
Excites us to arms,
And mortal alarms.
Of the thundering drum
The soft complaining flute
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Sharp violins proclaim
Depth of pains, and height of passion,
For the fair disdainful dame.
But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach,
To mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the savage race;
Sequacious of the lyre :
Mistaking earth for heaven.
As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
To all the bless'd above ;
- KITTY PALMER.”
THE SOLE INSCRIPTION ON AN OLD HEAD - STONE IN DULWICH
BUT “ Kitty Palmer”—not a word
There's nothing there her age to say;
That knowledge—we must do without it ;
What conquests were hers? Did she reign,