And bore me tongue-tied. If you’ll grant me now That Romney gives us a fine actor-piece To make us merry on his marriage-morn, The fable’s worse than Hamlet’s, I’ll concede. The terrible people, old and poor and blind, Their eyes eat out with plague and poverty From seeing beautiful and cheerful sights, We’ll liken to a brutalised King Lear, Led out,—by no means to clear scores with wrongs— His wrongs are so far back, ... he has forgot; All’s past like youth; but just to witness here A simple contract,—he, upon his side, And Regan with her sister Goneril And all the dappled courtiers and court-fools, On their side. Not that any of these would say They’re sorry, neither. What is done, is done, And violence is now turned privilege, As cream turns cheese, if buried long enough. What could such lovely ladies have to do With the old man there, in those ill-odorous rags, Except to keep the wind-side of him? Lear Is flat and quiet, as a decent grave; He does not curse his daughters in the least. _Be_ these his daughters? Lear is thinking of His porridge chiefly ... is it getting cold At Hampstead? will the ale be served in pots? Poor Lear, poor daughters! Bravo, Romney’s play!’ A murmur and a movement drew around; A naked whisper touched us. Something wrong! What’s wrong? The black crowd, as an overstrained Cord, quivered in vibrations, and I saw ... Was that _his_ face I saw?... his ... Romney Leigh’s ... Which tossed a sudden horror like a sponge Into all eyes,—while himself stood white upon The topmost altar-stair, and tried to speak, And failed, and lifted higher above his head A letter, ... as a man who drowns and gasps. ‘My brothers, bear with me! I am very weak. I meant but only good. Perhaps I meant Too proudly,—and God snatched the circumstance And changed it therefore. There’s no marriage—none. She leaves me,—she departs,—she disappears,— I lose her. Yet I never forced her ‘ay,’ To have her ‘no’ so cast into my teeth, In manner of an accusation, thus. My friends, you are all dismissed. Go, eat and drink According to the programme,—and farewell!’