Sylvester Daggerwood. .... ..... Fust. Oh, sir, let me alone for that. An exception to a general rule is now the grand secret for dramatic composition :Mine is freebooter of benevolence, and plunders with sentiment. Dag. There may be something in that, and for my part, I was always with Shakespeare, -" Who steals my purse, steals trash." I never had any weighty reason yet for thinking otherwise. Now, sir, as we say, please to "leave your d-nable faces, and begin Fust. Myd-nable faces! Dag. Come We'll to't like French falconers." Fust. (Reading) Scene first-A dark wood-night. Dag. A very awful beginning. Fust. (Reading) The moon behind a cloud. Dag. That's new; an audience never saw a moon behind a cloud before-but it will be difficult to paint. Fuct. Don't interrupt-where was 1? oh, behind a cloud. Dag. Beg pardon; but that speech never comes into my head, but it runs away with me. Proceed. Fust. (Reading.) Enter Dag." The solemn temples," Fust. Nay, then, I've done. Dag. So have I. I'm dumb. Fust. Enter Egbert, (musing) Dag. O.P? Fust. Pshaw! what does that signify? Dag. Not much-" The great globe itself." I come." (Reading) Fust. (Reading.) Egbert, (musing.)" Clouded in night Dag. (Starting up) "The cloud capt towers, "The gorgeous palaces, "The solemn temples-" Fust. (Gets up.) D-me, he's mad! a bedlamite! raves like Lear, and foams out a folio of Shakspeare without drawing breath! - I am almost afraid to stay in the room with him. Enter a SERVANT. Oh, I'm glad you are come, friend! now I shall be delivered : your master would be glad to see me, I warrant. ..... Sylvester Daggerwood. Serv. My master is just gone out, sir. Fust. Gone out! .......... Dag. "Oh, day and night, but this is wondrous stran ge." him these three hours! Dag. Three hours! pugh! - I've slept here for five mornings in his old arm chair. Serv. He ordered me to tell you, gentlemen, he was particularly sorry, but he is obliged to hurry down to the theatre, to meet Mr. Bannister and Mr. Suett upon particular business. Fust. He is! and what the devil, friend, have I to do with Mr. Bannister? D-nMr. Bannister! Dag. And d-n Mr. Suett! what the devil have I to do with Mr. Suett? Now he has shirted us. I'll lay you an even bet, he has gone to neither of them. Fust. Pretty treatment! pretty treatment, truly! to be kept here half the morning, kicking my heels in a manager's antiroom, shut up with a mad Dunstable actor. Dag. Mad! zounds, sir! I'd have you to know, that "when the wind's southe ly, I know a hawk from a handsaw." Fust Tell your master, friend; tell your master-but no matter; he don't catch me here again, that's all; d-me, I'll go home, turn my play into a pageant, put a triumphal procession at the end on't, and bring it out at one of the winter theaExit. tres. Dag. (To the Servant.) Young man, you know me; I shall come to the old arm-chair again to morrow, but must go to Dunstable the day after, for a week, to finish my engagement -wish for an interview-inclination to tread the London boards, and so on you know my name-Mr. Sylvester Daggerwood, whose benefit is fixed for the eleventh of June, by particular desire of several persons of distinction. Serv. I shall be sure to tell him, sir. Day. " I fine thee apt "And duller wouldst thou be. than the fat weed "That rots itself at ease on Lethe's wharf, "Would'st thou not stir in this." Open the street door: " go on, I'll follow thee." [Exeunt. Theatrical Anecdotes, Bon Mots, &e. &c. .................. MOLIERE. Moliere, the celebrated French comedian, was esteemed the brightest genius of the age in which he lived; and therefore we may be sure he had all the choice spirits in his retinue. In his latter days, he was confined to a milk diet; but when he was at his conntry-house near Paris, his friend, Chapelle, used to invite the guests, and be the master of the ceremonies. Moliere withdrew one evening, leaving his friends at their bottle. About three in the morning the talk happened to fall on mortality "What an insignificant thing is this life of ours," cried Chapelle, "the gall infinitely outweighs the honey: thirty or forty years are often thrown away in the pursuit of a pleasure, "which at last does not fall to our share, or deceives our expecta"tion: our poor childhood is perpetually plagued by our parents, " in stuffing our heads with a pack of nonsense: what a plague is "it to me, whether the sun or the earth circulates; or whether " that crazy fellow Descartes, or that visionary Aristotle, be in the " right? yet my blockhead of a tutor was continually thumping "such stuff into me, and teazing me with his Epicurus; though "indeed him I liked weil enough. Well, we are no sooner "out of the clutches of these pedants, but a settlement is " brought on the carpet; by Jupiter, women are sworn enemi es " to man's quiet: took round on every side of this fine life, "there is nothing but care, vexation, misfortune, and confusion." Jourdain rose and embraced him, "Spoke like thyself, my "dear friend, life is a scurvy business indeed; let's leave it to "grovelling fools; and lest such good friends should be separa"ted, let's evengo and drown ourselves together; we have but N. .... Moliere. "a step to the river." "That's my hero," said Nugent, "this is "the very nick of time to die good friends and in high spirits; be"sides, the whole nation will ring with this exploit." This friend"ly nouon being unanimously applauded, up start these inebriated gentlemen, and staggered away to the river. Baron (Moliere's pupil) run out for help, and called up his master, who was the more terrified at this project, as he knew them to be so far in liquor. These frantics had already reached the river and were putt ng off a boat, in order to drown themselves in the deерest water; but luckily some of the servants and villagers, being at their heels, drew them on shore. Enraged at being prevented in destroying themselves, they drew their swords upon their helpers, and these took to their heels towards Moliere's house, who, meeting his furious friends, said to them, "What's the "matter, gentlemen? what have these rascals done to you?" "Done!" rep ied Jourdain, ho was the most forward to begone, "these scoundrels have inte rupted our drowning ourselves. "Now, dear Moliere, you are a man of wit, and so may jude " whether we are not greatly in the right; wearied out with this "paltry world, we were upon mending our condition in the "other; to which the river seemed the shortest cut; and these "dogs of rustics have frustrated our expedition; don't they de 66 serve our swords in their guts?" " Is it so?" replied Moliere; "that's too good for them; begone, ye scum of the earth," said "he, in a seeming anger to the poor men, " or I'll break every "bone in your bodies: such fellows as you presume to thwart "gentlemen in their noble design! Now, gentlemen," continued Moliere, "in what have I deserved, that you should not "have acquainted me with such an exalted purpose? What! to "drown yourselves, and leave me in this sneakin:, fickle, mise"rable world, I thought you had loved me better." "He is in"deed in the right," said Chapelle; 'twas not friendly in us; "well, come aolng, the more the merrier." " Fair and softly." "replied Moliere, "this requires some deliberation; it is the "last act of life, and should be attended with all its merit; were "weto drown ourselve now immediately, the spiteful world "would not fail to say, we did it in the nicht, like folks in des. " pair, or in a mad fit of drunkenness. Let us take the season .................. Moliere. NNNNN ........ ... " that will dignify the achievement, and set it in its full lustre ; "about eiht or nine in the morning. fresh and fasting, we will solemnly proceed hand in hand to the river, before a multitude "of spectators, and then a good riddance of the world" 66 .. His reasons are unanswerable," said Nugent, "I like them well." "The devil's in it." continued la Motte. "we are but mere idio's, " in comparison of this Moliere; so agreed, we wil put it o full "to-morrow; and, in the mean time, let's to bed, for I can hardly "keep my eyes open." Thus, without Moliere's hampy presence of mind, there would have been an horrid complication of guilt and mischief; for his friends were bent upon revenge; but a sound sleep reconciled them to the world, and they rewarded those who had put a stop to their precipitate departure. Moliere had an excellent heart, of which many instances might be given. One day his pupil, Baron, bringing him word of a man, whom extreme distress hindered from shewing himself, and that his name was Mondargo; "I know him," answered Moliere; "he was one of us in Languedoc; what will it be pro per to give him?" Baron, after a pause, said, " four pistoles." "Well," replied Moliere, "I am going to give him four for "myself, and do you give him these twenty." To this handsome present Moliere added many tender expressions, and a very rich theatric habit for tragedies. The same, who was frequently very absentin mind, one day hired a coach to carry him to the theatre, but he being in haste, and the carriage not proceeding with the rapidity he wished. he got out, placed himself behind, and endeavourad to push it forward. Notwithstanding the loud and general laughter this act occasioned, he was not sensible of his folly. On arriving at the theatre, he was covered with mud, and abused the coachman for having such a dirty carriage, and it was not without much ado that he was made to understand the truth. The same, having thrown out alms one day to a beggar, the man called out to the coachman to stop; and coming up, "Sir," said he, " I suppose this piece of gold was not "intended |