out being
naked--the incidents uncommon, without being overstrained. Antonio,
who gives the name to the piece, is a sensitive young Castilian, who,
in a fit of his country honour, immolates his sister--

But I must not anticipate the catastrophe--the play, reader, is
extant in choice English--and you will employ a spare half crown not
injudiciously in the quest of it.

The conception was bold, and the denouement--the time and place in
which the hero of it existed, considered--not much out of keeping; yet
it must be confessed, that it required a delicacy of handling both
from the author and the performer, so as not much to shock the
prejudices of a modern English audience. G., in my opinion, had done
his part.

John, who was in familiar habits with the philosopher, had undertaken
to play Antonio. Great expectations were formed. A philosopher's first
play was a new era. The night arrived. I was favoured with a seat in
an advantageous box, between the author and his friend M----. G. sate
cheerful and confident. In his friend M.'s looks, who had perused the
manuscript, I read some terror. Antonio in the person of John Philip
Kemble at length appeared, starched out in a ruff which no one could
dispute, and in most irreproachable mustachios. John always dressed
most provokingly correct on these occasions. The first act swept
by, solemn and silent. It went off, as G. assured M., exactly as
the opening act of a piece--the protasis--should do. The cue of
the spectators was to be mute. The characters were but in their
introduction. The passions and the incidents would be developed
hereafter. Applause hitherto would be impertinent. Silent attention
was the effect all-desirable. Poor M. acquiesced--but in his honest
friendly face I could discern a working which told how much more
acceptable the plaudit of a single hand (however misplaced) would
have been than all this reasoning. The second act (as in duty bound)
rose a little in interest; but still John kept his forces under--in
policy, as G. would have it--and the audience were most complacently
attentive. The protasis, in fact, was scarcely unfolded. The
interest would warm in the next act, against which a special
incident was provided. M. wiped his cheek, flushed with a friendly
perspiration--'tis M.'s way of showing his zeal--"from every pore of
him a perfume falls--." I honour it above Alexander's. He had once or
twice during this act joined his palms in a feeble endeavour