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قراءة كتاب The Orphan; Or, The Unhappy Marriage. A Tragedy, in Five Acts
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The Orphan; Or, The Unhappy Marriage. A Tragedy, in Five Acts
THE ORPHAN;
OR,
The Unhappy Marriage.
A TRAGEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY THOMAS OTWAY.
CORRECTLY GIVEN,
AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL.
With Remarks.
London:
Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchurch-street;
SOLD BY
T. HUGHES, 35, LUDGATE STREET, AND J. BYSH,
52, PATERNOSTER ROW; & J. CUMMING, DUBLIN.
REMARKS.
To the great merit of Miss O'Neil, in Monimia, we are indebted for the revival of this tragedy, which was originally played at the Duke's Theatre, in 1680; and long kept possession of the stage. The language of this play is poetical and tender, and the incidents affecting; but, amidst many beauties, there is great inconsistency*.
Dr. Johnson observes,—"This is one of the few pieces that has pleased for almost a century, through all the vicissitudes of dramatic fashion. Of this play, nothing new can easily be said. It is a domestic tragedy, drawn from middle life:—its whole power is upon the affections; for it is not written with much comprehension of thought, or elegance of expression. But, if the heart is interested, many other beauties may be wanting; yet not be missed."
* Many readers will, probably, exclaim with the critic, when he first saw it,—"Oh! what an infinite deal of mischief would a farthing rush-light have prevented!"
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Drury-Lane, 1780. | Covent Garden, 1815. | |
Castalio | Mr. Reddish | Mr. C. Kemble. |
Acasto | Mr. Packer | Mr. Egerton. |
Polydore | Mr. Brereton | Mr. Conway. |
Chaplain | Mr. Usher | Mr. Chapman. |
Ernesto | Mr. Wrighten | Mr. Jefferies. |
Page | Master Pulley | Miss Prescott. |
Chamont | Mr. Smith | Mr. Young. |
Serina | Miss Platt | Miss Boyce. |
Florella | Mrs. Johnston | Mrs. Seymour. |
Monimia | Miss Younge | Miss O'Neil. |
SCENE—Bohemia. |
THE ORPHAN.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I. A GARDEN.
Enter Castalio, Polydore, and Page. |
Cas. Polydore, our sport |
Has been to-day much better for the danger: |
When on the brink the foaming boar I met, |
And in his side thought to have lodg'd my spear, |
The desperate savage rush'd within my force, |
And bore me headlong with him down the rock. |
Pol. But then—— |
Cas. Ay, then, my brother, my friend, Polydore, |
Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed, |
Came on, and down the dang'rous precipice leap'd |
To save Castilio.—'Twas a godlike act! |
Pol. But when I came, I found you conqueror. |
Oh! my heart danc'd, to see your danger past! |
The heat and fury of the chase was cold, |
And I had nothing in my mind but joy. |
Cas. So, Polydore, methinks, we might in war |
Rush on together; thou shouldst be my guard, |
And I be thine. What is't could hurt us then? |
Now half the youth of Europe are in arms, |
How fulsome must it be to stay behind, |
And die of rank diseases here at home! |
Pol. No, let me purchase in my youth renown, |
To make me lov'd and valu'd when I'm old; |
I would be busy in the world, and learn, |
Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed, |
Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow. |
Cas. Our father |
Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world, |
And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it. |
I own, I have duty very pow'rful in me: |
And though I'd hazard all to raise my name, |
Yet he's so tender, and so good a father, |
I could not do a thing to cross his will. |
Pol. Castalio, I have doubts within my heart, |
Which you, and only you, can satisfy. |
Will you be free and candid to your friend? |
Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should not know? |
What can this mean? |
Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too, |
By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship, |
To show your heart as naked in this point, |
As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n. |
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it |
With all the suff'rance of a tender friend. |
Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears |
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure. |