yet now, because his looks were red and wild, she left without permission, and the enraged instead of grieving Romeo had no one to receive his order:
"——get me ink and paper,
And hire post horses."
So when, in his confusion, he went on continuing his lines as they were written, and, addressing empty space, fiercely bade Balthazar:
"——get thee gone!"
and in unintentionally suggestive tones promised:
"——I'll be with thee straight!"
the audience laughed openly and heartily at the star himself.
"Yes, sir," he snorted later on to Mr. Ellsler, "by heaven, sir! they laughed at me—AT ME! I have been made ridiculous by your measly little Balthazar—who should have been a man, sir! Yes, sir, a man, whom I could have chastised for making a fool of himself, sir! and a d——d fool of me, sir!"
For the real tragedy of that night lay in the wound given to the dignity of Mr. F. B. Conway, who played a measured and stately Romeo to the handsome and mature Juliet of his wife.
We had no young Juliets just then, they were all rather advanced, rather settled in character for the reckless child of Verona. But every lady who played the part declared at rehearsal that Shakespeare had been foolish to make Juliet so young—that no woman had learned enough to understand and play her before middle age at least.