“Like a clipp’d guinea, trembles in the scale.” The guinea is certainly a vulgar image, but the thought is a happy one. The whole of the passage in which this occurs contains no hint of the ridiculous until we come to the “trembling guinea,” and that but very slightly turns the scale to the side of absurdity. When Sheridan tried fine writing in earnest he was not so successful. His own _Pizarro_ was a greater burlesque than Mr. Puff’s _Spanish Armada_. _Pizarro_, in its highest flights, is “downright booth at a fair.” Travelling downwards from Sheridan’s time, we meet with no notable example of a burlesque in dramatic form until we come to _Bombastes Furioso_, first produced about the year 1809. We have never been able to discover that the author of this production had any special moral, political, literary, or other “purpose” whatever. At any rate, he claims none for himself; and we do not know that any one has made the claim for him. Bombast in general would seem to be the mark at which the arrows are let fly; but the incidents of the piece are so extravagant and capricious, that we are tempted to believe the author sat down to write without having any fixed idea what he was going to make it. A king and a general making love to a cook-maid in a kitchen presents but a very vulgar and commonplace antithesis, and would be altogether offensive, but for the mock chivalry which is sustained in the demeanour and language of the king and the general. The conduct of these two characters accords with a kind of harmless lunacy which is natural in so far as it exists in nature. Two lunatics of this class might extemporize the challenge and duel scene in their ward at Bedlam, and the random performance would be very funny. We are, therefore, inclined to regard _Bombastes Furioso_ as a “lune.” Still, the piece is characterized by many merits. Its thorough-paced extravagance is not the least of them. The peculiar diction, too, is singularly well suited to burlesque. Wit, there is little or none; but its place is more than supplied by humorous expression and absurd similitudes. The entrance of Bombastes, followed by his army, consisting of one drummer, one fifer, and two soldiers of unequal stature, is in the true spirit of burlesque. In the whole range of burlesque-dramatic literature, there is, perhaps, no single passage which produces so much effect as Bombastes’ address to his army. Yet it consists of only three lines— _Bombas._ (_confidentially_). Meet me this ev’ning at the Barley-Mow; I’ll bring your pay—you see I’m busy now. (_In a loud, commanding tone_) Begone, brave army, and don’t kick up a row! Nor could anything be more ludicrous than the entrance of Bombastes in the wood, intent on suicide, preceded by a fifer playing “Michael Wiggins:” _Bombas._