not sure that you have returned to the 'Hotel des Deux Mondes,' whence
you dated your last, I make bold once more to trouble Coutts with adding
your Address to my Letter. I think I shall have it from yourself not
long after. I shall like to hear a word about my old France, dear to me
from childish associations; and in particular of the Loire endeared to me
by Sevigne--for I never saw the glimmer of its Waters myself. If you
were in England I should send you an account of a tour there, written by
a Lady in 1833--written in the good old way of Ladies' writing, without
any of the smartness, and not too much of the 'graphic' of later times.
Did you look at Les Rochers, which, I have read, is not to be looked
_into_ by the present owner? {250a}
Now for my 'Story, God bless you,' etc., you may guess where none is to
be told. Only, my old Housekeeper here has been bedded for this last
month, an illness which has caused her great pain, and at one time seemed
about to make an End of her. So it may do still: but for the last few
days she has suffered less pain, and so we--hope. This has caused much
trouble in my little household, as you may imagine--as well on our own
account, as on hers.
Mowbray Donne wrote me that his Edith had been seriously--I know not if
dangerously--ill; and he himself much out of sorts, having never yet (he
says, and I believe) recovered from his Father's death. Blanche, for the
present, is quartered at Friends' and Kinsfolk's houses.
Aldis Wright has sent me a Photograph, copied from Mrs. Cameron's
original, of James Spedding--so fine that I know not whether I feel more
pleasure or pain in looking at it. When you return to England, you shall
see it somehow.
I have had a letter or two from Annie Ritchie, who is busy writing
various Articles for Magazines. One concerning Miss Edgeworth in the
Cornhill is pleasant reading. {250b} She tells me that Tennyson is at
Aldworth (his Hampshire house, you know), and a notice in Athenaeum or
Academy tells that he is about to produce 'a Pastoral Drama' at one of
the smaller Theatres! {251a}
You may have seen--but more probably have not seen--how Mr. Irving and
Co. have brought out 'Much Ado' with all _eclat_.
It seems to me (but I believe it seems so every year) that our trees keep
their leaves very long; I suppose because of no severe frosts or winds up
to this time. And my garden still shows some Geranium, Salvia,
Nasturtium, Great Convolvulus, and that grand African Marigold whose
Colour is so comfortable to us Spanish-like Paddies. {251b} I have also
a dear Oleander which even now has a score of blossoms on it, and touches
the top of my little Greenhouse--having been sent me when 'haut comme
ca,' as Marquis Somebody used to say in the days of Louis XIV. Don't you
love the Oleander? So clean in its leaves and stem, as so beautiful in
its flower; loving to stand in water, which it drinks up so fast. I
rather worship mine.
Here is pretty matter to get Coutts to further on to Paris--to Mrs.
Kemble in Paris. And I have written it all in my best MS. with a pen
that has been held with its nib in water for more than a
fortnight--Charles Keene's recipe for keeping Pens in condition--Oleander-
like.
Please to make my Compliments to Mrs. Wister--my good wishes to the young
Musician; {252a} and pray do you believe me your sincere as ever--in
spite of his new name--
LITTLEGRANGE.
CIX.
[_Nov._, 1882.]
MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:
You must be homeward-bound by this time, I think: but I hope my letter
won't light upon you just when you are leaving Paris, or just arriving in
London--perhaps about to see Mrs. Wister off to America from Liverpool!
But you will know very well how to set my letter aside till some better
opportunity. May Mrs. Wister fare well upon her Voyage over the
Atlantic, and find all well when she reaches her home.
I have been again--twice or thrice--to Aldeburgh, when my contemporary
old Beauty Mary Lynn was staying there; and pleasant Evenings enough we
had, talking of other days, and she reading to me some of her Mudie
Books, finishing with a nice little Supper, and some hot grog (for me)
which I carried back to the fire, and _set on the carpet_. {252b} She
read me (for one thing) 'Marjorie Fleming' from a Volume of Dr. Brown's
Papers {253a}--read it as well as she could for laughing--'idiotically,'
she said--but all the better to my mind. She had been very dismal all
day, she said. Pray get some one to read you 'Marjorie'--which I say,
because (as I found) it agrees with one best in that way. If only for
dear Sir Walter's sake, who doated on the Child; and would not let his
Twelfth Night be celebrated till she came through the Snow in a Sedan
Chair, where (once in the warm Hall) he called all his Company down to
see her nestling before he carried her upstairs in his arms. A very
pretty picture. My old Mary said that Mr. Anstey's 'Vice Versa' made her
and a friend, to whom she read it, laugh idiotically too: but I could not
laugh over it alone, very clever as it is. And here is enough of me and
Mary.
Devrient's Theory of Shakespeare's Sonnets (which you wrote me of) I
cannot pretend to judge of: what he said of the Englishwomen, to whom the
Imogens, Desdemonas, etc., were acceptable, seems to me well said. I
named it to Aldis Wright in a letter, but what he thinks on the
subject--surely no otherwise than Mrs. Kemble--I have not yet heard. My
dear old Alfred's Pastoral troubles me a little--that he should have
exposed himself to ridicule in his later days. Yet I feel sure that his
aim is a noble one; and there was a good notice in the Academy {253b}
saying there was much that was fine in the Play--nay, that a whole good
Play might yet be made of it by some better Playwright's practical Skill.
And here is the end of my paper, before I have said something else that I
had to say. But you have enough for the present from your ancient E.
F.G.--who has been busy arranging some 'post mortem' papers.
CX.
WOODBRIDGE: _March_ 6, [1883.]
MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE,
I have asked more than one person for tidings of you, for the last two
months: and only yesterday heard from M. Donne that he had seen you at
the Address to which I shall direct this letter. I wrote to you about
mid-November, desiring Coutts to forward my letter: in which I said that
if you were in no mood to write during the time of Mrs. Wister's
departure for America (which you had told me was to be November end) you
were not to trouble yourself at all. Since which time I have really not
known whether you had not gone off to America too. Anyhow, I thought
better to wait till I had some token of your 'whereabout,' if nothing
more. And now Mowbray tells me that much, and I will venture another
Letter to you after so long an interval. You must always follow your own
inclination as to answering me--not by any means make a 'Duty' of it.
As usual I have nothing to say of myself but what you have heard from me
for years. Only that my (now one year old) friend Bronchitis has thus
far done but little more than to keep me aware that he has not quitted
me, nor even thinks of so doing. Nay, this very day, when the Snow which
held off all winter is now coming down under stress of N.E. wind, I feel
my friend stirring somewhat within.
Enough of that and of myself. Mowbray gives me a very good report of
you--Absit Nemesis for my daring to write it!--And you have got back to
something of our old London Quarters, which I always look to as better
than the new. And do you go to even a Play, in the old Quarters also?
Wright, who was with me at Christmas, was taken by Macmillan to see 'Much
Ado,' and found, all except Scenery, etc. (which was too good) so bad
that he vowed he would never go to see Sh. 'at any of your Courts' again.
Irving without any Humour, Miss Terry with simply Animal Spirits, etc.
However, Wright did intend once more to try--Comedy of Errors, at some
theatre; but how he liked it--I may hear if he comes to me at Easter.
Now this is enough--is it not?--for a letter: but I am as always
Sincerely yours,
E. F.G.
CXI.
WOODBRIDGE: _April_ 12, [1883.]
MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:
I do not think you will be sorry that more than a Moon has waxed and
waned since last I wrote to you. For you have seen long enough how
little I had to tell, and that nevertheless you were bound to answer. But
all such Apologies are stale: you will believe, I hope, that I remain as
I was in regard to you, as I shall believe that you are the same toward
me.
Mowbray Donne has told me two months ago that he could not get over the
Remembrance of last May; and that, acting on Body as well as Mind, aged
him, I suppose, as you saw. Mowbray is one of the most loyal men toward
Kinsman and Friend.
Now for my own little Budget of News. I got through those Sunless East
winds well enough: better than I am feeling now they both work together.
I think the Wind will rule till Midsummer: 'Enfin tant qu'il plaira a
Dieu.' Aldis Wright was with me for Easter, and we went on our usual
way, together or apart. Professor Norton had sent me his Carlyle-Emerson
Correspondence, which we conned over together, and liked well on either
side. Carlyle should not have said (and still less Norton printed) that
Tennyson was a 'gloomy' Soul, nor Thackeray 'of inordinate Appetite,'
neither of which sayings is true: nor written of Lord Houghton as a
'Robin Redbreast' of a man. I shall wait very patiently till Mudie sends
me Jane Carlyle--where I am told there is a word of not unkindly
toleration of me; which, if one be named at all, one may be thankful for.
{257}
Here are two Questions to be submitted to Mrs. Kemble by Messrs. Aldis
Wright and Littlegrange--viz., What she understands by--
(1.) 'The Raven himself is hoarse,' etc.
(2.) 'But this _eternal_ Blazon must not be,' etc.
Mrs. Kemble (who _will_ answer my letter) can tell me how she fares in
health and well-being; yes, and if she has seen, or heard, anything of
Alfred Tennyson, who is generally to be heard of in London at this time
of year. And pray let Mrs. Kemble believe in the Writer of these poor
lines as her ancient, and loyal, Subject
E. F.G.
'The raven himself is hoarse,' etc.
"Lady Macbeth compares the Messenger, hoarse for lack of Breath, to a
raven whose croaking was held to be prophetic of Disaster. This we
think the natural interpretation of the words, though it is rejected
by some Commentators."--_Clark and Wright's Clarendon Press
Shakespeare_.
"'Eternal Blazon' = revelation of Eternity. It may be, however, that
Sh. uses 'eternal' for 'infernal' here, as in _Julius Caesar_ I. 2,
160: 'The eternal Devil'; and _Othello_ IV. 2, 130: 'Some eternal
villain.' 'Blazon' is an heraldic term, meaning Description of
armorial bearings, * hence used for description generally; as in _Much
Ado_ II. 1, 307. The verb 'blazon' occurs in _Cymbeline_ IV. 2,
170."--_Ibid_.
Thus have I written out in my very best hand: as I will take care to do
in future; for I think it very bad manners to puzzle anyone--and
especially a Lady--with that which is a trouble to read; and I really had
no idea that I have been so guilty of doing so to Mrs. Kemble.
Also I beg leave to say that nothing in Mowbray's letter set me off
writing again to Mrs. Kemble, except her Address, which I knew not till
he gave it to me, and I remain her very humble obedient Servant,
THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE--
of which I enclose a side view done by a Woodbridge Artisan for his own
amusement. So that Mrs. Kemble may be made acquainted with the
'_habitat_' of the Flower--which is about to make an Omelette for its
Sunday Dinner.
N.B.--The 'Raven' is not he that reports the news to Miladi M., but 'one
of my fellows Who almost dead for breath, etc.'
* Not, as E. F.G. had thought, the Bearings themselves.
CXII.
[_May_, 1883.]
MY DEAR LADY,
I conclude (from what you wrote me in your last letter) that you are at
Leamington by this time; and I will venture to ask a word of you before
you go off to Switzerland, and I shall have to rely on Coutts & Co. for
further Correspondence between us. I am not sure of your present
Address, even should you be at Leamington--not sure--but yet I think my
letter will find you--and, if it do not--why, then you will be saved the
necessity of answering it.
I had written to Mowbray Donne to ask about himself and his Wife: and
herewith I enclose his Answer--very sad, and very manly. You shall
return it if you please; for I set some store by it.
Now I am reading--have almost finished--Jane Carlyle's Letters. I dare
say you have already heard them more than enough discussed in London; and
therefore I will only say that it is at any rate fine of old Carlyle to
have laid himself so easily open to public Rebuke, though whether such
Revelations are fit for Publicity is another question. At any rate, it
seems to me that _half_ her letters, and _all_ his ejaculations of
Remorse summed up in a Preface, would have done better. There is an
Article by brave Mrs. Oliphant in this month's Contemporary Review {259}
(or Magazine) well worth reading on the subject; with such a Challenge to
Froude as might almost be actionable in Law. We must 'hear both sides,'
and wait for the Volume which [is] to crown all his Labours in this
Cause.
I think your Leamington Country is more in Leaf than ours 'down-East:'
which only just begins to 'stand in a mist of green.' {260} By the by, I
lately heard from Hallam Tennyson that all his Party were well enough;
not having been to London this Spring because Alfred's Doctor had warned
him against London Fogs, which suppress Perspiration, and bring up Gout.
Which is the best piece of news in my Letter; and I am
Yours always and a Day
E. F.G.
P.S. I do not enclose Mowbray's letter, as I had intended to do, for
fear of my own not finding you.
CXIII.
[_May_, 1883.]
MY DEAR LADY;
Stupid me! And now, after a little hunt, I find poor Mowbray's Letter,
which I had made sure of having sent you. But I should not now send it
if I did not implore you not to write in case you thought fit to return
it; which indeed I did ask you to do; but now I would rather it remained
with you, who will acknowledge all the true and brave in it as well as
I--yes, it may be laid, if you please, even among those of your own which
you tell me Mowbray's Father saved up for you. If you return it, let it
be without a word of your own: and pray do not misunderstand me when I
say that. You will hear of me (if Coutts be true) when you are among
your Mountains again; and, if you do hear of me, I know you will--for you
must--reply.
At last some feeling of Spring--a month before Midsummer. And next week
I am expecting my grave Friend Charles Keene, of Punch, to come here for
a week--bringing with him his Bagpipes, and an ancient Viol, and a Book
of Strathspeys and Madrigals; and our Archdeacon will come to meet him,
and to talk over ancient Music and Books: and we shall all three drive
out past the green hedges, and heaths with their furze in blossom--and I
wish--yes, I do--that you were of the Party.
I love all Southey, and all that he does; and love that Correspondence of
his with Caroline Bowles. We (Boy and I) have been reading an account of
Zetland, which makes me thirst for 'The Pirate' again--tiresome, I
know--more than half of it--but what a Vision it leaves behind! {261}
Now, Madam, you cannot pretend that you have to jump at my meaning
through my MS. I am sure it is legible enough, and that I am ever yours
E. F.G.
You write just across the Address you date from; but I jump at that which
I shall direct this Letter by.
CXIV.
WOODBRIDGE, _May_ 27/83.
MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:
I feel minded to write you a word of Farewell before you start off for
Switzerland: but I do not think it will be very welcome to you if, as
usual, you feel bound to answer it on the Eve of your Departure. Why not
let me hear from you when you are settled for a few days somewhere among
your Mountains?
I was lately obliged to run to London on a disagreeable errand: which,
however, got itself over soon after midday; when I got into a Cab to
Chelsea, for the purpose of seeing Carlyle's Statue on the Embankment,
and to take a last look at his old House in Cheyne Row. The Statue very
good, I thought, though looking somewhat small for want of a good
Background to set it off: but the old House! Shut up--neglected--'To
Let'--was sad enough to me. I got back to Woodbridge before night. {263}
Since then I have had Charles Keene (who has not been well) staying with
me here for ten days. He is a very good Guest, inasmuch as he entertains
himself with Books, and Birds'-nests, and an ancient Viol which he has
brought down here: as also a Bagpipe (his favourite instrument), only
leaving the 'Bag' behind: he having to supply its functions from his own
lungs. But he will leave me to-morrow or next day; and with June will
come my two Nieces from Lowestoft: and then the Longest Day will come,
and we shall begin declining toward Winter again, after so shortly
escaping from it.
This very morning I receive The Diary of John Ward, Vicar of Stratford on
Avon from 1648 to 1679--with some notices of W. S. which you know all
about. And I am as ever
Sincerely yours
LITTLEGRANGE.
Is not this Letter legible enough?
INDEX
Academy (Royal), pictures at, 49
Aconites, "New Year's Gifts," 211, 231
Aide (H.), 202
Anstey's 'Vice Versa,' 253
Arkwright (Mrs.), 87
Autumn colours, 112
Bagehot's Essays, 170
Barton (Bernard), 174
Basselin (Olivier), quoted, 23
Beard (Dr.), 48
Belvidere Hat, 163
Beranger, 20-22
Beuve (Sainte), Causeries, 40, 53
Blackbird _v._ Nightingale, 46
Blakesley (J. W.), Dean of Lincoln, 78, 233
Boccaccio, 117
Brown (Dr. John), 253
Burns, compared with Beranger, 20-22; quoted, 37
Burrows (General), his defeat by Ayoub Khan, 193
Calderon, 63, 185
Candide, 174
Carlyle (T.), 17; forwards Mr. Ruskin's letter to E. F.G., 19; his Kings
of Norway, 61, 65; presented with a Medal and Address on his 80th
birthday, 88, 91; vehement against Darwin and the Turk, 110; on Sir
Walter Scott, 131; is reading Shakespeare and Boswell's Hebrides, 170;
becomes very feeble, 203; is buried at Ecclefechan, 206, 207; his
Reminiscences, 215, 218; his Letters to Emerson, 246, 256
Carlyle (Mrs.), her Letters, 257, 259
Carlyle (Mrs. Alexander), 163, 170, 186, 207, 215, 222
Chateaubriand's father, 59
Chorley (H. F.), his death, 11; Life of, 38, 53
Clerke Saunders, 164
Coriolanus, 139
Corneille, 73
Country church, Scene in, 46
Cowell (Professor), 155
Crabbe (G.), the Poet, quoted, 39, 43, 55, 59, 118; his portrait by
Pickersgill, 39,150; article on him in the Cornhill, 58; his fancy
quickened by a fall of snow, 198
Crabbe (George), Vicar of Bredfield, the poet's son, 43
Crabbe (George), Rector of Merton, the poet's grandson, 202, 225
Deffand (Madame du), 53
De Quincey (T.), on Janus Weathercock, 90
Derby Day, 186
De Soyres (John), E. F.G.'s nephew, 238
De Soyres (Mrs.), E. F.G.'s sister, her death, 168
Devrient, his Theory of Shakespeare's Sonnets, 253
Dickens (Charles), 69; E. F.G.'s admiration for him, 51, 126; his passion
for colours, 54
Donne (Blanche), 48, 111, 149, 154
Donne (Charles), 95, 111, 131
Donne (Mrs. Charles), her death, 106
Donne (Mowbray), 10, 29, 39, 62, 86, 95, 111, 140, 181, 185, 193, 196,
199, 206, 207, 212, 223, 227, 242, 259, 260; visits E. F.G., 86
Donne (Valentia), 6, 18, 111, 161, 199; her marriage, 127
Donne (W. B.), mentioned, 3, 4, 6, 8, 18, 48, 60, 64, 78, 98, 102, 111,
121, 181, 207, 212, 223, 227, 229, 241; his Lectures, 10; his illness,
35, 37, 39, 42; retires from his post as Licenser of Plays, 48, 50; his
successor, 50; reviews Macready's Memoirs, 75; his death, 243
Ducis, 219
Dunwich, 138
Eastern Question (the), 117
Eckermann, a German Boswell, 155
Edwards (Edwin), 139, 140, 158; his death, 155; exhibition of his
pictures, 166, 168, 169
Elio (F. J.), 120
Elliot (Sir Gilbert), pastoral by, 82
Euphranor, 65
FitzGerald (Edward), parts with his yacht, 3; his reader's mistakes, 4;
his house at Woodbridge, 8; his unwillingness to have visitors, 8, 9; his
mother, 11; reads Hawthorne's Notes of Italian Travel, 12; Memoirs of
Harness, 13; cannot read George Eliot, 15, 38, 171; his love for Sir
Walter Scott, 15, 229; visits his brother Peter, 16; on the art of being
photographed, 24, 25; reads Walpole, Wesley, and Boswell's Johnson, 28;
in Paris in 1830, 31; cannot read Goethe's Faust, 31, 124; reads Ste.
Beuve's Causeries, 40, and Don Quixote, 41, 45; has a skeleton of his
own, bronchitis, 45, 47, 75; goes to Scotland, 49; to the Academy, 49;
reads Dickens, 51; Crabbe, 54; condenses the Tales of the Hall, 59, 64,
118; death of his brother Peter, 64; translations from Calderon, 63;
tries to read Gil Blas and La Fontaine, 66; admires Corneille, 73; reads
Madame de Sevigne, 73; writes to Notes and Queries, 82; begins to 'smell
the ground,' 83; his recollections of Paris, 85; reads Mrs. Trollope's 'A
Charming Fellow,' 95; on framing pictures, 96, 99, 102, 106; translation
of the Agamemnon, 97, 103, 107, 111; meets Macready, 103; his Lugger
Captain, 104, 115, 117; prefers the Second Part of Don Quixote, 108;
scissors and paste his 'Harp and Lute,' 126; reads Dickens' Great
Expectations, 126; on nightingales, 128, 136, 184; wished to dedicate
Agamemnon to Mrs. Kemble, 129; reads The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 130;
Catullus, 135; Guy Mannering, 137; at Dunwich, 138; reads Coriolanus,
139; Kenilworth, 145; David Copperfield, 145; his Readings in Crabbe,
147, 150; reads Hawthorne's Journals, 153; at Lowestoft, 155; reads
Forster's Life of Dickens, 155; and Trollope's Novels, 155, 171;
Eckermann's Goethe, 155; works on Crabbe's Posthumous Tales, 164; his
Quarter-deck, 167; Dombey and Son, 172, 187; Comus and Lycidas, 178; Mrs.
Kemble's Records, 186; Madame de Sevigne, 186, 188; visits George Crabbe
at Merton, 188, 243; his ducks and chickens, 189; his Irish cousins, 190;
at Aldeburgh, 190; with his nieces at Lowestoft, 195; sends Charles
Tennyson's Sonnets to Mrs. Kemble, 198; his eyes out of 'Keller,' 202,
206; reads Winter's Tale, 204; his translations of the two OEdipus plays,
205, 208; his affection for the stage, 210; his collection of actors'
portraits, 210; his love for Spedding, 212; his reminiscences of a visit
with Tennyson at Mirehouse, 214; reads Wordsworth, 217; sends his reader
to see Macbeth, 231; feels as if some of the internal timbers were
shaken, 240; reads Froude's Carlyle, 243, 245, 248; at Aldeburgh, 245,
247; meets Professor Fawcett, 247; consults Mrs. Kemble on two passages
of Shakespeare, 257; goes to look at Carlyle's statue and his old house,
262
FitzGerald (Jane), afterwards Mrs. Wilkinson, E. F.G.'s sister, 112, 122
FitzGerald (J. P.), E. F.G.'s eldest brother, 95, 100; his illness, 141,
144; and death, 149
FitzGerald (Mrs.), E. F.G.'s mother, 11, 61, 96; her portrait by Sir T.
Lawrence, 177
FitzGerald (Percy), his Lives of the Kembles, 5, 6
FitzGerald (Peter), E. F.G.'s brother, 16; his death, 64
Frere (Mrs.), 83, 87, 181
Froude (J. A.), constantly with Carlyle, 203; is charged with his
biography, 208; his Life of Carlyle, 243; writes to E. F.G., 243
Fualdes, murder of, 85; play founded on, 89
Furness (H. H.), 60, 64, 66, 101, 203
Gil Blas, 66
Glyn (Miss), 97
Goethe, 31, 123, 124; his conversations by Eckermann, 155
Goethe and Schiller, correspondence of, 231
Goodwin (Professor), proposes to visit E. F.G., 192
Gordon (Mrs.), 132, 203
Gout, 7
Groome (Archdeacon), 4, 45, 199, 223
Half Hours with the Worst Authors, 31, 34
Hamlet, theory of Gervinus on, 32; the Quarto and Folio Texts of, 221
Harlowe's picture of the Trial Scene in Henry VIII., 87
Harness (Rev. W.), Memoirs of, 6, 13
Hatherley (Lord), letter from, 132
Hawthorne (Nathaniel), his Notes of Italian Travel, 12, 153
Haydn, 83
Haydon (B. R.), verses by his wife, 34
Haymarket Opera (The), 200
Hayward (A.), his translation of Faust, 124; his Select Essays, 170
Helen of Kirkconnel, 164
Helps (Sir Arthur), his death, 68
Hertford (Lord), 48, 50
Hood (T.), verses by, 87, 95
Houghton (Lord), 164, 236, 239, 257
Hugo (F. Victor), his translation of Shakespeare, 114
Hunt (Holman), The Shadow of Death, 40
Intellectual Peat, 69
Irving (Henry), in Hamlet, 74, 75; his portrait, 86; in Queen Mary, 107,
109; his reading of Eugene Aram, 124; in Much Ado about Nothing, 251, 255
Jenny (Mr.), the owner of Bredfield House, 10
Jessica, 179
Kean (Edmund), in Othello, 53
Keats (John), his Letters, 134; his Life and Letters, by Lord Houghton,
164
Keene (Charles), 225, 249, 261; at Little Grange, 242, 263
Kelly (Michael), his Reminiscences, 146
Kemble (Charles), in Othello, 53; as Falconbridge and Petruchio, 58; in
As You Like It, 58; as Charles Surface, 58; as Cromwell, 87; in King
John, 182