proaching catastrophe, and Charles felt it. He demanded to be heard. Bradshaw insisted that the Court should be heard first, remarking how he had refused to make answer to the charges against him, brought in the name of the people of England. "No, not half the people," shrieked a female voice, supposed to be that of Lady Fairfax, wife of the Lord General. Charles requested to be heard in the Painted Chamber, before the Lords and Commons, to which Bradshaw replied by urging that all this was a continued contempt of court.

John Downes, citizen of London, one of the commissioners, now got up and exclaimed, "Have we hearts of stone? Are we men? My Lord, I am not satisfied to give my consent to this sentence. I have reasons to offer against it. I desire the Court to adjourn to hear me." The Court retired, and then returned, determined to proceed with their purpose. Many words followed between the president and the prisoner, all involving the primary question as to the legality of the trial. The king was startled at being called "Tyrant, traitor, murderer," and uttered that memorable cry of "Hah!” which still seems to echo round the old hall. The king wanted to be heard in arrest of judgment; but the president replied it was too late, as he never admitted the jurisdiction of the Court. The clerk was told to read the sentence, when Charles again claimed to be heard, and was refused. “Sir, you are not to be heard after sentence." "No, Sir?" "No, Sir, by your favour." "Guards, withdraw your prisoner." "I may speak after the

sentence, by your favour, sir; I may speak after the sentence even. By your favour."- "Hold!""The sentence, sir."-" I say, sir, I do."—" Hold! These broken words, with stammers-for the king had a hesitancy in his speech-wound up the terrible trial; and then he retired, saying to himself, "I am not suffered to speak; expect what justice other people will have."

As to the mode of conducting the trial, and the behaviour of the president, the opinion of a modern judge, of great experience and discretion, carries weight, and with that we conclude our paper "Assuming a court to be constituted, its authority must be maintained, and the steps must be taken which are necessary for bringing to a conclusion a trial commenced before it. The king's demeanour was most noble; and he displayed such real dignity, such presence of mind, such acuteness, such readiness, such liberality of sentiment, and such touches of eloquence, that he makes us forget all his errors, his systematic love of despotic power, and his incorrigibly bad faith. He did so when the commissioners stood up, in token of assent to the awful sentence of beheading. Instead of hurrying him to the scaffold, we eagerly desire to see him once more on the throne, in the hope that misfortune might at last induce him sincerely to submit to the restraints of constitutional monarchy." Dr. Stoughton.

XLIX.

PYRAMUS AND THISBY.1

Аст І. SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S House. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING.

Quin. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.

Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow to a point.

Quin. Marry, our play is The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.2

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.

Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom the

weaver.

Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover that kills himself most gallant for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I

will move storms, I will condole in some measure. Το the rest yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.

This was lofty!

The raging rocks

And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates;

And Phibbus' car

Shall shine from far

And make and mar

The foolish Fates.

Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.

Flu. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.

Quin. That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll speak in a monstrous little voice, 'Thisne, Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!'

Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus: and Flute, you Thisby.

Bot. Well, proceed.

Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.

Star. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's Tom Snout the tinker.

mother.

Snout. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father. Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and I hope, here is a play fitted

Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me: I will roar, that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us, every mother's son.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely gentlemanlike man; therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?

Quin. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. But, masters, here