The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 1, January 1810
General
The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, Vol. I, No. 1, January 1810
Drama -- Periodicals; Theater -- Periodicals
_Mon._ Ah, my poor Silence! thou hast watched and fretted for me
preciously, I'll warrant: but the road from Brisac is long, and this
rough night half crippled me.
[The female feels her damp garments, and seems with quick
tenderness to invite her into the house.]
Well, well, never fright thyself, if I shiver now, a cup of warm Rhenish
will soon make me glow again: 'faith I am weary though; wilt lend an arm
to an old woman?
[The female embraces and supports her.]
Ah, there's my kind Silence.
[Exeunt into the cottage.
Enter _Florian_ running and out of breath, from the left hand.
_Flor._ I'm right, by all the household gods! 'Twas no goblin of the fen
that twinkled to deceive, but a real substantial weatherproof tenement
shining with invitation to benighted travellers. Oh, blessings on its
hospitable threshold; my heart luxuriates already by anticipation, and
pants for a fireside, a supper, and a bed. Hold though--just now I was
on the point of shaking hands with a cutthroat; who knows but here I may
introduce myself upon visiting terms with his family? 'faith I'll
reconnoitre the position before I establish my quarters. This casement
is commodiously low. (_Steps to the casement on tiptoe._) I protest,
a vastly neat, creditable sort of mansion! Yes--it will do! on one side
blazes an excellent fire; in the middle stands a table ready covered;
that's for supper: then just opposite is a door left ajar; ay, that must
lead to a bed. Ha! now the door opens; who comes forward? by all my
hopes a woman! Enough; here will I pitch my tent. Whenever doubts and
fears perplex a man, the form of woman strikes upon his troubled spirit
like the rainbow stealing out of clouds--the type of beauty and the sign
of hope! (_he knocks_) Now Venus send her with a kindly smile!--she
comes--she comes.
[The female opens the door, but on seeing _Florian_ recoils with
trepidation--he catches her hand, and forcibly detains her.]
_Flor._ My dear madam! no alarm, for Heaven's sake. You have thieves in
your neighbourhood, but, upon my soul, I don't belong to their
fraternity. No, madam, I'm an unlucky fellow, but with the best morals
in the world: the fact is, I have lost myself in the forest; the storm
rages--and as I am no knight-errant to court unnecessary hardships,
respectfully I entreat the hospitality of this roof for the remainder of
the night.
[The female surveys his figure with suspicion and timidity.]
_Flor._ I fear 'tis my misfortune to be disbelieved; nay then, let my
dress declare my character! (_he releases her hand to throw open his
riding-cloak, and discovers the regimental under it._) Behold! I am a
soldier.
[The female shrieks violently; for an instant she covers her eyes
with both hands shudderingly, and then with the look and action
of sudden insanity, darts away into the thicket of the wood.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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