The next striking beauty he disclosed was in his reply to Randolph, when the latter offers his arbitration between him and Glenalvon.
Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
The cold peremptory dignity he threw into these words was beautifully conceived, and executed in a masterly manner: nor was he less successful in the transition to an expression of poignant but smothered sensibility in the next line:
I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak
Th’ opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
His delivery of this and all the other lines of the speech that followed it, deserved the thunders of applause with which it was greeted—it was, indeed, admirable.
In impassioned feeling lies Master Payne’s strength. Hence his last scene was deeply affecting. Though we could well have spared that Kembleian dying trope, his rising up and falling again. It is because we seriously respect Master Payne’s talents that we make this remark: clap-traps and stage trick of every kind cannot be too studiously avoided by persons of real parts.
It would be injustice to omit one passage—
Just as my arm had mastered Randolph’s sword