Nobleman. ———My actors
Are all in readiness, and I think all perfect,
But one, that never will be perfect in a thing
He studies; yet he makes such shifts extempore,
(Knowing the purpose what he is to speak to),
That he moves mirth in me ’bove all the rest.
For I am none of those Poetic Furies,
That threats the actor’s life, in a whole Play
That adds a syllable, or takes away.
If he can fribble through, and move delight
In others, I am pleased.—****
Let me not see you now,
In the scholastic way you brought to town with you,
With see-saw sack-a-down, like a sawyer;
Nor in a comic scene play Hercules Furens,
Tearing your throat to split the audients’ ears;—
And you, Sir, you had got a trick of late
Of holding out your breech in a set speech;
Your fingers fibulating on your breast,
As if your buttons or your bandstrings were
Helps to your memory; let me see you in’t
No more, I charge you. No, nor you, Sir,
In that o’er-action of your legs I told you of,
Your singles and your doubles—look you—thus—
Like one of the dancing-masters of the bear-garden;
And when you’ve spoke, at end of every speech,
Not minding the reply, you turn you round
As tumblers do, when betwixt every feat
They gather wind by firking up their breeches.
I’ll none of these absurdities in my house;
But words and actions married so together,
That shall strike harmony in the ears and eyes
Of the severest, if judicious, critics.
Players. My Lord, we are corrected.
Nobleman. Go, be ready.—
But you, Sir, are incorrigible, and
Take licence to yourself to add unto
Your parts your own free fancy; and sometimes
To alter or diminish what the writer
With care and skill composed; and when you are
To speak to your Co-actors in the scene,
You hold interloqutions with the audients.
Player. That is a way, my Lord, has been allowed
On elder stages, to move mirth and laughter.
Nobleman. Yes, in the days of Tarleton and Kemp,
Before the Stage was purged from barbarism,
And brought to the perfection it now shines with.
Then Fools and Jesters spent their wits, because
The Poets were wise enough to save their own
For profitabler uses.—
C. L.
THE DIVER OF CHARYBDIS.
To the Editor.
Sir,—Mr. Brydone, in the quotations you have made,[205] appears to doubt the accuracy of the stories relating to Charybdis. I never recollect to have heard mention of the name of Colus, but apprehend he was the same as the famous Sicilian diver, Nicolo Pesce. Associated with Charybdis, some notice of this extraordinary man may not be uninteresting.
The authenticity of this account depends entirely on the authority of Kircher. He assures us, he had it from the archives of the kings of Sicily; but its having so much of the marvellous in it, many have been disposed to doubt its accuracy. Historians are too fond of fiction, but we should by no means doubt their sincerity, when we find them on other subjects not contemptible authorities.
“In the time of Frederic, king of Sicily, (says Kircher,) there lived a celebrated diver, whose name was Nicholas, and who, from his amazing skill in swimming, and his perseverance under the water, was surnamed the fish. This man had from his infancy been used to the sea; and earned his scanty subsistence by diving for corals and oysters, which he sold to the villagers on shore. His long acquaintance with the sea at last brought it to be almost his natural element. He was frequently known to spend five days in the midst of the waves, without any other provisions than the fish which he caught there, and ate raw. He often swam over from Sicily into Calabria, a tempestuous and dangerous passage, carrying letters from the king. He was frequently known to swim among the gulfs of Lipari, no way apprehensive of danger.
“Some mariners out at sea one day observing something at a distance from them, regarded it as a sea-monster; but upon its approach it was known to be Nicholas, whom they took into their ship. When they asked him whither he was going in so stormy and rough a sea, and at such a distance from land, he showed them a packet of letters, which he was carrying to one of the towns of Italy, exactly done up in a leather bag, in such a manner that they could not be wetted by the sea. He kept them company for some time in their voyage, conversing and asking questions; and, after eating with them, took his leave, and jumping into the sea, pursued his voyage alone.
“In order to aid these powers of enduring in the deep, nature seemed to have assisted him in a very extraordinary manner; for the spaces between his fingers and toes were webbed as in a goose: and his chest became so very capacious, that he was able, at one inspiration, to take in as much breath as would serve him a whole day.