DOI article:
Beerbohm, Max: Poor Romeo!
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.26392#0176
Poor Romeo !
172
flushed with pleasure. cc I am ready and willing,” he replied, “ to
play 4 Romeo ’ to a Bath audience, if the manager will get up the
play and give me a good ‘Juliet’; my costume is superb and
adorned with diamonds, but I have not the advantage of knowing
the manager, Dimonds.” Pleased by the stranger’s ready wit,
Mr. Gordon scribbled a note of introduction to Dimonds there
and then. So soon as he had “ discussed a brace of muffins and
so many eggs,” the new Romeo started for the playhouse, and that
very day bills were posted to the effect that “ a Gentleman of
Fashion would make his first appearance on February 9 in
a role of Shakespeare.” All the lower boxes were immediately
secured by Lady Belmore and other lights of Bath. “ Butlers and
Abigails,” it is said, “ were commanded by their mistresses to take
their stand in the centre of the pit and give Mr. Coates a capital,
hearty clapping.” Indeed, throughout the week that elapsed
before the premiere, no pains were spared in assuring a great
success. Miss Tylney Long showed some interest in the
arrangements. Gossip spoke of her as a likely bride.
The night came. Fashion, Virtue, and Intellect thronged the
house. Nothing could have been more cordial than the temper
of the gallery. All were eager to applaud the new Romeo.
Presently, when the varlets of Verona had brawled, there stepped
into the square—what ?—a mountebank, a monstrosity. Hurrah
died upon every lip. The house was thunderstruck. Whose
legs were in those scarlet pantaloons ? Whose face grinned
over that bolster-cravat, and under that Charles II. wig and
opera-hat? From whose shoulders hung that spangled, sky-
blue cloak ? Was this bedizened scarecrow the Amateur of
Fashion for sight of whom they had paid their shillings? At
length a voice from the gallery cried, “ Good evening, Mr.
Coates! ” and, as the Antiguan—for he it was—bowed low, the
theatre
172
flushed with pleasure. cc I am ready and willing,” he replied, “ to
play 4 Romeo ’ to a Bath audience, if the manager will get up the
play and give me a good ‘Juliet’; my costume is superb and
adorned with diamonds, but I have not the advantage of knowing
the manager, Dimonds.” Pleased by the stranger’s ready wit,
Mr. Gordon scribbled a note of introduction to Dimonds there
and then. So soon as he had “ discussed a brace of muffins and
so many eggs,” the new Romeo started for the playhouse, and that
very day bills were posted to the effect that “ a Gentleman of
Fashion would make his first appearance on February 9 in
a role of Shakespeare.” All the lower boxes were immediately
secured by Lady Belmore and other lights of Bath. “ Butlers and
Abigails,” it is said, “ were commanded by their mistresses to take
their stand in the centre of the pit and give Mr. Coates a capital,
hearty clapping.” Indeed, throughout the week that elapsed
before the premiere, no pains were spared in assuring a great
success. Miss Tylney Long showed some interest in the
arrangements. Gossip spoke of her as a likely bride.
The night came. Fashion, Virtue, and Intellect thronged the
house. Nothing could have been more cordial than the temper
of the gallery. All were eager to applaud the new Romeo.
Presently, when the varlets of Verona had brawled, there stepped
into the square—what ?—a mountebank, a monstrosity. Hurrah
died upon every lip. The house was thunderstruck. Whose
legs were in those scarlet pantaloons ? Whose face grinned
over that bolster-cravat, and under that Charles II. wig and
opera-hat? From whose shoulders hung that spangled, sky-
blue cloak ? Was this bedizened scarecrow the Amateur of
Fashion for sight of whom they had paid their shillings? At
length a voice from the gallery cried, “ Good evening, Mr.
Coates! ” and, as the Antiguan—for he it was—bowed low, the
theatre