a trifle o' that same goin' on in the place, an' they war for swearin' me; but I never liked their night-walkin', from a boy up; an', 'case they might be angry, I left them all, an' came to where there's pace an' plenty, God bless your reverance, an' a fine harvest only for cuttin' it; so, there's the blessed truth, since your Honor put me on sayin' it out."
Every word of which, question and answer, you have angrily drawn your pen over. In the awful discharge of official duty, this, too, spoken such a vein, by such persons, is disloyalty. Tell me quietly, George, is it to such a bungling and most absurd "comprehension" of "flat perjury" and "flat burglary," that literary gentlemen, and the enlightened many whom they write to amuse, are to knuckle down? Do you think it can long be tolerated, that, in such a view of right and wrong, of fit and unfit, of jest and earnest, you shall enjoy the unquestioned and unquestionable privilege of depriving honest people of the results of their talent or industry? Or do you think, while you run on at such a rate, there is one of those, for whose honour and glory you imagine yourself acting—I put out of the question your immediate master, the Lord Chamberlain, because his note to Mr. Shee had bad grammar in it, and at once decides his qualifications as a judge;—but do you suppose there is one grammarian among all the other lords and gentlemen you die to fascinate, who (although "the angels" may "weep") does not laugh heartily and contemptuously at your "tricks before high heaven?" But more of this before I conclude:—now to pass from your loyalty to your morality.
Your Licenser's Act, you say, empowers you to strike from every new play that comes before you, the most holy name. This is no place to transcribe a long-winded Act of Parliament, but I join issue with you on the following point; I assert (disprove it if you can) that the spirit and aim of the bill only go to control the irreverent and wanton use of that name; to hinder it from being invoked lightly, or in passion; from being sworn by, or rashly imprecated. And so far the bill is right, and you are right, and all sensible men think you are right. But all sensible men also think, that, in some instances, the name may be properly and beautifully uttered on the stage; and in others, harmlessly. You know I could cite, from Shakspeare alone, a score illustrations of the first case; one, however, will fully explain my meaning.
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd,"—&c.
"It is an attribute of God Himself!"
Here,—recollecting the situation, with which all are familiar, and the sermon-like form in which the whole of the fine speech is delivered,—here, surely, the occurrence of the name is not impious: the effect always produced by it, is deeply impressive, deeply religious; and unless you have so entirely embraced the raving bigotry of your new religious friends as to deny to the stage all power of conveying to the heart good, nay, pious feelings, most certainly, George, you could not, if the speech came before you, in a new play, destroy altogether its climax and effect, by erasing the name. Yet, look at an erasure of it; under your hand, in one of poor H.'s unpretending dramas. A simple country girl, come up with her sister to London, after suffering ill-treatment from certain persons, meets others who offer her assistance; her necessities urge her to accept, her dread of renewed injury to decline
