'As lofty pines o'ertop the lowly steed,
So did her graceful height all nymphs exceed,
To which excelling height she bore a mind
Humble as osiers, bending to the wind.
* * * * *
I mourn Pastora dead; let Albion mourn,
And sable clouds her chalkie cliffs adorn.'
This play was dedicated to Lord Halifax, of whom we have spoken, and who
continued to be Congreve's patron.
The fame of the young man was now made; but in the following year it was
destined to shine out more brilliantly still. Old Betterton--one of the
best Hamlets that ever trod the stage, and of whom Booth declared that
when he was playing the Ghost to his Hamlet, his look of surprise and
horror was so natural, that Booth could not for some minutes recover
himself--was now a veteran in his sixtieth year. For forty years he had
walked the boards, and made a fortune for the patentees of Drury. It was
very shabby of them, therefore, to give some of his best parts to
younger actors. Betterton was disgusted, and determined to set up for
himself, to which end he managed to procure another patent, turned the
Queen's Court in Portugal Row, Lincoln's Inn, into a theatre, and opened
it on the 30th of April, 1695.
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