imagine how the play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for Andromache; and a little while after as much for Hermione: and was extremely puzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus. $6 When Sir Roger saw Andromache's obstinate refusal to her lover's importunities, he whispered me in the ear," that he was sure she would never have him;" to which he added, with a more than ordinary vehemence, you cannot imagine, Sir, what it is to have to do with a widow." Upon Pyrrhus his threatening afterwards to leave her, the knight shook his head, and muttered to himself, "Ay, do, if you can." This part dwelt so much upon my friend's imagination, that, at the close of the third act, as I was thinking of something else, he whis pered in my ear, "These widows, Sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world. But pray, (says he,) you, that are a critic, is this play according to you dramatic rules, as you call them? Should your people in tragedy always talk to be understood? Why, there is not a single sentence in this play, that I do not know the meaning of." The fourth act very luckily began before I had time to give the old gentleman an answer. "Well, (says the knight, sitting down with great satisfaction,) I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost." He then renewed his attention, and, from time to time, fell a praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her pages, whom, at his first entering, he took for Astyanax; but he quickly set himself right in that particular; though, at the same time, he owned he should have been very glad to have seen the little boy," who (says he) must needs be a very fine child, by the account that is given of him. Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loud clap; to which Sir Roger added, "On my word, a notable young baggage!" 66 As there was a very remarkable silence and stillness in the audience during the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunity of the in ́tervals between the acts, to express their opinion of the players, and of their respective parts. Sir Roger hearing a cluster of them praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them, that he thought his friend Pylades was a very sensible man. As they were afterwards applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a second time, And let me tell you, (says he,) though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers as well as any of them.' Captain Sentry, seeing two or three wags who sat near us, lean with an attentive ear towards Sir Roger, and fearing lest they should smoke the knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whispered something in his ear, that lasted till the opening of the fifth act. The knight was wonderfully attentive to the account which Orestes gives of Pyrrhus his death, and at the conclusion of it, told me, that it was such a bloody piece of work, that he was glad it was not done upon the stage. Seeing afterward Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more than ordinary serious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way) upon an evil conscience, adding, "that Orestes, in his madness, looked as if he saw something." As we were the first that came into the house, so we were the last that went out of it; being resolved to have a clear passage for our old friend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodgings in the same manner that we brought him to the playhouse; being highly pleased, for my own part, not only with the performance of the excellent piece which had been presented, but with the satisfaction which it had given to the good old man. No. 343. THURSDAY, APRIL 3. WILL -Errat et illinc Huc venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus PYTHAG. AP. Ov.. ས ILL HONEYCOMB, who loves to shew upon occasion, all the little learning he has picked up, told us yesterday at the club, that he thought there might be a great deal said for the transmigratiou of souls, and that the eastern parts of the world believed in that doctrine to this day." Sir Paul Ricaut (says he) gives us an account of several well-disposed Mahometans, that purchase the freedom of any little bird they see confined to a cage, and think they merit as much by it, as we should do here by ransoming any of our countrymen from their captivity at Algiers. You must know (says Will) the reason is, because they consider every animal as a brother or a sister in disguise, and therefore think themselves obliged to extend their charity to them, though under such mean circumstances. They will tell you (says Will) that the soul of a man, when he dies, immediately passes into the body of another man, or of some brute, which he resembled in his humor, or his fortune, when he was one of us." As I was wondering what this profusion of learning would end in, Will told us that Jack Freelove, who was a fellow of whim, made love to one of those ladies who throw away all their fondness on parrots, monkies, and lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her a visit one morning, he writ a very pretty epistle upon this hint. "Jack (says he) was conducted into the parlour, where he diverted himself for some time with her favourite monkey, which was chained in one of the windows; till at length observing a pen and ink lie by him, he writ the following letter to his mistress, in the person of the monkey; and upon her not coming down so soon as he expected, left it in the window, and went about his business. "The lady soon after coming into the parlour, and seeing her monkey look upon a paper with great earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some doubt (says Will) whether it was written by Jack or the monkey." "MADAM, "Nor having the gift of speech, I have a long time waited in vain for an opportunity of making myself known to you; and having at present the conveniencies of pen, ink, and paper, by me, I gladly take the occasion of giving you my history in writing, which I could not do by word of mouth. You must know, Madam, that about a thousand years ago I was an Indian brachman, and versed in all those mysterious secrets which your European philosopher, called Pythagoras, is said to have learned from our fraternity. I had so ingratiated myself, by my great skill in the occult sciences, with a dæmon whom I used to converse with, that he promised to grant me whatever I should ask of him. I desired that my soul might never pass into the body of a brute creature; but this he told me was not in his power to grant me. I then begged that into whatever creature I should chance to transmigrate, I might still retain my memory, and be conscious that I was the same person who lived in different animals. This he told me was within his power, and accordingly promised, on the word of a dæmon, that he would grant me what I desired. From that time forth I lived so very unblameably, that I was made president of a college of brach mans, an office which I discharged with great integrity till the day of my death. "I was then shuffled into another human body, and acted my part so well in it, that I became first minister to a prince who reigned upon the banks of the Ganges. I here lived in great honour for several years, but by degrees lost all the innocence of the brachman, being obliged to rifle and oppress the people to enrich my sovereign; till at length I became so odious, that my master, to recover his credit with his subjects, shot me through the heart with an arrow, as I was one day addressing myself to him at the head of his army. "Upon my next remove I found myself in the woods under the shape of a jackall, and soon listed myself in the service of a lion. I used to yelp near his den about midnight, which was his time of rousing, and seeking after his prey. He always followed me in the rear; and when I had run down a fat buck, a wild goat, or an hare, after he had feasted very plentifully upon it himself, would now and then throw me a bone, that was but half picked, for my encouragement; but, upon my being unsuccessful in two or three chases, he gave me such a confounded gripe in his anger, that I died of it. "In my next transmigration I was again set upon two legs, and became an Indian tax-gatherer; but having been guilty of great extravagancies, and being married to an expensive jade of a wife, I ran so cursedly in debt, that I durst not shew my head. I could no sooner step out of my house, but I was arrested by somebody or other that lay in wait for me. As I ventured abroad one night in the dusk of the evening, I was taken up, and hurried into a dungeon, where I died a few months after. My soul then entered into a flying-fish, and in that state led a most melancholy life for the space of six years. Several fishes of prey pursued me when I was in the water; and if I betook myself to my wings, it was ten to one but I had a flock of birds aiming at me. As I was one day flying amidst |
