"I do," said Walter; "and she was indeed the only one amongst us who fully appreciated his merits. Nay, from the very first, an you remember, she said he would one day surprise us."
All further attempt to describe the progress of this play, and its effect upon the minds of the spectators, we feel to be a mere impertinence. It seems indeed to ourselves, as in imagination we after eye it, a play within a play—where all is like romance. The audience, that theatre, the players, that "foremost man of all the world" speaking his own words; all is like the fabric of some vision seen before,—a shadowy recollection of some brilliant hour set apart from the dull stream of life, and that too, during a glorious epoch.
As the play proceeded, and the progress of Romeo's sudden passion developed itself, the thoughts of that stately Queen returned to her early youth, ere the sterner feeling of pride and power had obliterated all gentler sensations. She thought upon the days when she loved the handsome Sudley, with all the violence of a first passion.
And if the royal Tudor and all around her were delighted with the delicious picture presented before them, in the halls of old Capulet, and the masque held there, they were still more charmed with the garden scene. They felt enchanted whilst they listened to the images of beauty which appear to have floated in such profusion before the poet's mind.
The richness of that glorious Italian picture held them in a state of enchantment. It had the sweetness of the rose, and all its freshness in every line. All was bright as the moonlight which tipped with silver the fruit-tree tops of the orchard, and yet all was soft as a southern spring. The very air of that garden seemed to breath a transport of delight; one almost expected to hear the language of the nightingale's song. And then the refinement and delicacy of the author's conception of the female character delighted the hearers as they listened to the words of Juliet.
"Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain deny
What I have spoke—but farewell compliment;
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, ay,
And I will take thee at thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs. Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or, if thou think I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay
So thou wilt woo: but else not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light;
But trust me gentleman, I'll prove move true
Than those who have more cunning to be strange."
"The world hath nothing like this," said Raleigh to Southampton.
"'Tis heaven on this base earth," returned Southampton. "Said I not the master-mind of this man would produce wondrous matter?"
"Nay," said Sir Courtley Flutter, who was an ancient fop of the first water, "'Fore Gad, my lords, 'tis indeed perfect paradise sent down upon us poor worldlings here. I feel inspired altogether—repaired as it were; my heart palpitates—my blood circulates! Ha! I am young again, positively in love myself. Look, how these exquisite ladies, with the Queen there, are overcome. Nay, my Lord Burleigh seems to have forgotten the cares o' the state, and Bacon his gout. An we have another such masque as that just now represented, Sir Christopher Hatton will assuredly fling out amongst the dancers, and give us a coranto."
"By 'ur Lady!" said Sir Christopher, "I would ask no more beatitude in life, during the mighty changes of the world, than what appears in this changing drama, and the stuff of which it is composed. This lower world hath no such bliss. Let me see how went it:—'A hall, a hall,—give way, and foot it, girls!' Oh, 'twas exquisite stuff!"