Tempest. What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! If not, I'll die your maid to be your fellow Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. Mira. And mine, with my heart in 't: and now farewell, Fer. A thousand thousand ! Shakespeare. THE CAPTAIN AND THE TREASURER. Kempthorn. A dull life this, a dull life, anyway! Cleared for Barbadoes, and a fair wind blowing [Enter EDWARD BUTTER with an ear-trumpet. Sir, to you. Butter. Good-morning, Captain Kempthorn. You've the advantage of me. Butter. I don't know you. That's not your name ? Kemp. Yes, that's my name. I am the treasurer of the Commonwealth. My name is Butter. What say? Who's conceited? O, thank you. Spread yourself Upon this chair, sweet Butter. Kemp. Will you sit down? Kemp. Butter. [Sitting down.] A fine morning. Kemp. Nothing's the matter with it that I know of. I have seen better, and I have seen worse. The wind 's nor'-west. That's fair for them that sail. Butter. You need not speak so loud; I understand you. You sail to-day. Kemp. No, I don't sail to-day. So, be it fair or foul, it matters not. Say, will you smoke? There's choice tobacco here. Butter. Well, almost everything's against the law In this good town. Give a wide berth to one thing, Butter. And so you sail to-day for dear Old England? I am not one of those who think a sup Of this New England air is better worth Than a whole draught of our Old England's ale. Kemp. Nor I. Give me the ale and keep the air. But, as I said, I do not sail to-day. Butter. Ah, yes; you sail to-day. I'm under bonds To take some Quakers back to the Barbadoes; Is sentenced to be hanged. Butter. No, all are pardoned, All are set free by order of the Court; But some of them would fain return to England. You must not take them. Upon that condition Kemp. I Ah, the wind has shifted! pray you, do you speak officially ? Butter. I always speak officially. To prove it, Here is the bond. Kemp. [Rising and giving a paper.] And here's my hand upon it. And, look you, when I say I'll do a thing Butter. What say ? Kemp. I say, confound the tedious man, With his strange speaking-trumpet! Can I go? Butter. You're free to go, by order of the Court. Your servant, sir. Kemp. [Shouting from the window.] Swallow, ahoy! Hallo ! If ever a man was happy to leave Boston, That man is Simon Kempthorn of the Swallow! [Exit. [Re-enter BUTTER. Butter. Pray, did you call? Кетр. Call? Yes, I hailed the Swallow. Butter. That's not my name. My name is Edward Butter. You need not speak so loud. Kemp. [Shaking hands]. Good-bye! Good-bye! SPEAKING and acting are often considered antagonistic to each other. The actor has been advised never to speak upon the platform, and the speaker warned against practising dialogues. Mr. Joseph Jefferson, in a lecture given at our two foremost universities, has said, "Actors fail as orators and orators as actors. The two arts go hand in hand so far as magnetism and intelligence are concerned, but there comes a point where they diverge widely. The actor is, or should be, impressionable and sensitive; the orator must have the power of impressing." Accordingly, the true actor is known by his capacity for listening rather than by his speaking, while the speaker does not listen, but directly addresses, and seeks to impress or dominate the attention and feeling of the audience. The secret of acting consists mainly in the power to give attention to the ideas uttered by the interlocutor, and his “action" is the response of imagination, feeling, and body to these ideas. But while this is true, the actor must also speak as well as listen; he must have the power to change from the attitude of hearer and to become a speaker; and while the orator is always a speaker, still, the secret of true oratoric delivery is his power to receive spontaneous impressions from his own successive ideas. He is the best speaker who is best able to give subjective attention to his own thought. Each successive picture, each stage in the processes of his thought, must cause a sensitive response. The true speaker rarely dominates the attention of his audience by mere force of will; he wins attention by showing intense interest himself in the successive ideas which come to him. In fact, the secret of both oratory and action is attention. The actor listens objectively, the orator more subjectively. With an imaginative conception of the point of view and nature of some character, the actor gives his attention to his interlocutor, or to what his interlocutor is saying, showing by his action the effect of what he sees and hears. The orator, on the other hand, shows the effect of the discovery of successive ideas in his own mind. He displays a sensitive response to vivid conceptions which hold and direct the attention of his auditor also. The speaker wins sympathetic attention, and awakens the faculties of other minds by making them feel the action of the same faculties in himself. One very common fault of speakers is a strenuous earnestness, or an earnestness that is volitional or physical rather than intellectual or emotional. True earnestness requires a mental balance, a co-ordinate response, from all the faculties. This can only be gained by yielding the whole nature to each successive idea or situation. Dramatic instinct must be considered as something broader than acting. It must even be separated from stage representation. If dramatic instinct consist in the elements which have here been shown, — the power to see things from another's point of view; to feel the motives of men; to enter into an imaginative situation, and to feel the processes of thought and experience which would be the natural result upon a human being in such surroundings; to get out of the narrow circle of the individual and become a part of the race, if it be all these, then it belongs to the orator fully as much as to the actor. In fact, it belongs to every human being, and is an element in human nature which is essential to all success, and needs development and normal direction. Not only so, but if the orator speaks merely, he is apt to lose the fundamental elements of dramatic instinct, and the same is true of the actor. While speaking and acting are different, yet the student should practise both for assistance in the development of his dramatic instinct, and the better grasp of his chosen art. The principle here involved is found in the relation of the imaginative arts to each other. The greatest artists occasionally practise a different art from their own for the sake of changing their point of view and finding out a new side to nature. They awaken thus their artistic powers, and discover any tendencies towards mannerisms or superficial conceptions of their work. HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS. ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Let it pry through the portage of the head, O'erhang and jutty his confounded base Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, Dishonor not your mothers: now attest, That those, whom you called fathers, did beget you : And teach them how to war!—and you, good yeomen, The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not; Cry God for Harry! England! and Saint George ! Shakespeare. Webster called up an imaginary scene consistent with the facts in his speech on the murder of Mr. White, and allowed his mind |