1828. J The Revenger's Tragedy. 141 



Gra. Where? 



Cas. Do you not see her $ SMa too mward tften ! 

 Slave, perish in thine office ! Yon heavens please 

 Henceforth to make the mother a disease, 

 Which first begins with me. Yet I've outgone you. pE*ff. 



Fin. O angels, clap your wings upon the skies, 

 And give this virgin crystal plaudities ! 



Vindici now meets Lusurioso, and in order to appease his rage at the 

 temporary failure of his mission to Castiza, informs him of an intrigue, 

 which is at that moment supposed to be taking place, between the duchess 

 and Spurio. Lusurioso immediately rushes to the supposed scene of his 

 father's shame, and is about in his fury to dispatch them both, when it 

 turns out that the old duke himself is sleeping in the place of the expected 

 paramour ; and before Lusurioso can explain the motive of his extraor- 

 dinary appearance at such an hour, he is hurried away to prison on a 

 charge of treason; for, instead of following Vindici's counsel, and 

 approaching the spot cautiously, he rushes upon them with a headlong 

 fury, which is nobly expressed in the following brief passage : 



Fin. Be soft, my lord. 



Lus. Away ! my spleen is not so lazy : thus, and thus, 

 I'll shake their eyelids open, and with my sword 

 Shut them again for ever. Villain ! strumpet ! 



This incident, which is collateral to the main design of Vindici's revenge 

 upon the old duke, brings about two or three scenes which need not be 

 described particularly, because they only assist in maturing the circum- 

 stances which at last lead to the extirpation of the younger branches of 

 the family. Perhaps these scenes, in which the four aspirants to the 

 duke's throne are engaged in intriguing against the lives of each other, 

 and in which the younger one is dispatched by a sort of contrived mis- 

 take, were better away, because they distract our attention from the 

 main design of Vindici. But at any rate they form an effective foil to 

 the magnificent, though terrible and appalling scene, which immediately 

 follows them ; and which we will venture to say is not to be surpassed 

 in its way, if paralleled, by any one in the whole circle of the English 

 drama : and elsewhere than in the English drama there is nothing which 

 in the least degree resembles it. As our limits do not enable us to give 

 this splendid scene, we entreat the reader of the play to pay attention to 

 it : for when he has perused it (or rather seen it for it is written with 

 so truly dramatic a power of style, that we see rather than read it), he 

 will be exclusively absorbed in its general effect. We would point out, 

 first, the triumphant delight of Vindici, at the mere prospect of the 

 " measureless revenge" he is about to take at the mere thought of 

 " nine years of vengeance crowded into a minute." Next, let it be 

 observed with what an extraordinary power of imagination he is made to 

 revive, as it were, the spirit of his lost mistress, and not only address 

 her as if she were living, but make her address him, and answer what she 

 says. Then the rich tide of reflections that flows in upon him as he 

 looks upon her remains ; and the " quaint malice," with which he applies 

 them. Then the momentary touch of deep but bitter pathos with 

 which the thought of his f( once-betrothed wife" intrudes itself upon 

 Vindici, and the seemingly accidental disclosure which this makes to the 

 duke, of who it is under whose hands he is suffering. And finally, and 



