"Every cock crows on his own midden," said Malcolm, "but if I were
on mine, I would try to be civil."
"You go down there, and pay for a pit ticket, and you'll soon know
where you are, mate," said Tom.
He obeyed, and after a few inquiries, and the outlay of two
shillings, found himself in the pit of one of the largest of the
London theatres.
CHAPTER X: THE TEMPEST
The play was begun, and the stage was the centre of light. Thither
Malcolm's eyes were drawn the instant he entered. He was all but
unaware of the multitude of faces about him, and his attention was
at once fascinated by the lovely show revealed in soft radiance. But
surely he had seen the vision before! One long moment its effect
upon him was as real as if he had been actually deceived as to
its nature: was it not the shore between Scaurnose and Portlossie,
betwixt the Boar's Tail and the sea? and was not that the marquis,
his father, in his dressing gown, pacing to and fro upon the
sands? He yielded himself to illusion--abandoned himself to the
wonderful, and looked only for what would come next.
A lovely lady entered: to his excited fancy it was Florimel. A
moment more and she spoke.
If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
Then first he understood that before him rose in wondrous realization
the play of Shakspere he knew best--the first he had ever read:
The Tempest, hitherto a lovely phantom for the mind's eye, now
embodied to the enraptured sense.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62