CHAPTER VII.

MR. AND MRS. KNOWLES-HIS UNPUBLISHED PLAY OF LEO, OR THE GIPSY.

FIVE and twenty years ago, Mr. Knowles, the now well-known author of "Virginius" and "The Hunchback," was an obscure actor, or rather singer, at Waterford, in Ireland. He and his wife were at that time members of Cherry's company, and it was there that he first became acquainted with Kean. Knowles was even then an author, having, we believe, written various songs and small pieces of poetry. At all events he produced, at this period, a drama, in which Kean filled the principal part. It was called "LEO, or the GIPSY." Never having been published, it would now, if entire, have been an object of

considerable interest. It would have been curious to have seen how the most successful dramatic writer of the day entered upon his literary career. Unluckily, we are not able to show this satisfactorily. We have, indeed, a portion of the play-the three first acts, in our possession (with the permission of the author to print as much of it as we please); but the interest of a play increasing generally in the later acts, it would be unfair to receive our extracts as a true sample of what Mr. Knowles was, even at this time, capable of accomplishing. We forbear entering into any critical eulogiums upon such portions as we adopt in our pages, leaving that agreeable task to the "judicious reader."

LEO, or THE GIPSY.

The dramatis persona consist of a certain Sir Walter (a Justice); Ferdinand, his supposed son; Helen, his niece; and a band of

gipsies, the principal of whom are Leo (who loves and is beloved by Helen); his friend Hugo, who loves the gipsy-girl Cloe, but is slighted by her for the sake of Ferdinand; and Cloe herself. The rest are the gipsyking, and a set of fellows without mark, but having the significant titles of Long Jack, Merry Tom, Black Robin, &c. &c. &c.

After an introductory scene, wherein Sir Walter drives away one of the old gipsies, who is in the act of approximating to the pantry, Leo and his friend Hugo are seen. Cloe, the gipsy-girl, has, we suppose, just passed across with Ferdinand, when Leo calls to his companion

Leo. Thou may'st advance.

Hugo. What's to be done?

You see

She takes him towards the wood! My heart's on fire.

I mark'd her looks. Her eye did meet again

As she perused him. On her cheek I saw
Warm blushes pass; and, as she spoke, methought
Her sweet voice sweeter grew! This is the cold

Into the close and overhanging shade,

Where none shall list their kisses, or perceive
Their fast embraces twine. Oh! at the thought
I feel my heart to move within my breast,

As from its seat 'twould leap. I'll murder him!
Leo. I will not let you go.
Hugo.

Release me, Leo!

What dost thou mean ?

Leo. Then here I break with thee.

Hugo.

Leo. I'll prowl with thee for prey. The roost or fold

I'll rifle with thee; or the snorting sty;

Or scale the granary; or strip the hedge;
Or what thou wilt beside that lawful is.
Unnatural-for cowards or for friends-
That thou shalt do alone.

Hugo.

Well, let it pass.

Leo. Besides, thou wrong'st the girl. She is not one

For wantonness, but coy and well advised.

Doubtless (as in these troubled times we've seen

Before) it is some worsted chief, who seeks

The shelter of our wood, till better chance

Refits him for the fray.

Bad weather? 'Tis the quarter of the moon-
We'll have some sport to night. The drowsy loons
Will fast their doors betimes, and, heavy from
Their crackling hearths, to their sound slumber hie
Before the tenth hour chime.

The next scene exhibits the gipsy-king encircled by his petty-larceny crew, in the centre of a wood. From his address to them, we gather that he is holding a bed (or bank) of justice.

King. Sons of the woods! Wild living men that

choose

Apart from common civil wights to dwell,

A free and roving tribe, and pitch your house
In shelter'd glen, or under thick bough shade
Who never feel the sun, nor list the wind,-
Free and familiar with the elements,–
A hardy and a merry living race,-

Your king attends to do you right and favour.
All. Hail to the Gipsy-king!

;

After this ensue divers accusations and recriminations between Tom and Robin, and between Jack and Kate, which are intended