A day with Cromwell: a drama of history, in five acts, by Auctor.

  • Benjamin Ward Richardson
Date:
1869
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: A day with Cromwell: a drama of history, in five acts, by Auctor. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by Royal College of Physicians, London. The original may be consulted at Royal College of Physicians, London.

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    Betterton. ’ IVero well, my Lord, we had no such rival. Cromwell. [Bowing.]—Sir ! As to thy wish, Mr. Betterton, would I could say, aye. To put down the stage, Sir, I know were as hard a task as to put down the existences it represents. Sir, it is life. Every man of mind hath either writ an act or felt himself an actor; a good play that giveth us the past is picture and sculpture too, that liveth and spealceth. It is true, Sir, very true, what I say of your art. It is, or rather may be, a school of morals. I confess I was once stayed a great sin by seeing the heinousness of it in a play, therefore I would admit you. But then I am one only of the nation. Betterton.—But, my Lord Cromwell.—Oh, Sir! I am not a lout who understandeth not art, as many suppose. Sir, I love art. A true artist makes soul, Sir, puts soul into you, I may say. Look now at that picture. There is a lover embracing his mistress ere he goes to the battle. With what infinite cunning are his thoughts instilled into that canvass. My spirit, as I gaze, fills him ; and that maiden’s half parted lips, I kiss them with the chasteness of his love. Smite’em. [Aside].—Beelzebub! Beelzebub! what a seven-headed, beast. Drown him in the Jordan, but I’ll tell his Lizabeth. Cromwell.—Oh, truly, Sir, as you see I am with you, and although I can give you no permission to do this thing, I withhold none. I think that is fair. Betterton. —Most fair, your Lordship. Then will we to-morrowr revive Macbeth. Cromwell.—Eh ! eh ! eh ! [Aside.] I must stifle Macbeth. [Rings.'] Enter Josli. Buckthorn. Smite’em, art thou ready ? Smite’em.—To the teeth, General. I like that. Cromwell—Take Josh. Buckthorn into the next room. [Exit Josh, and Smite’em. [To Betterton.] Good Player, to the wise A word sufficeth. Thy immortal master William the Wonder, writing for all time Hath written plays befitting every time. Methinks the play, if I were now to choose What would befit the time, would be King John.