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The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table-Part6_Oliver Wendell Holmes(1809-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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human beings, they would become NON-COMPOTES at once.



[Nobody understood this but the theological student and the

schoolmistress. They looked intelligently at each other; but



whether they were thinking about my paradox or not, I am not clear.

- It would be natural enough. Stranger things have happened. Love



and Death enter boarding-houses without asking the price of board,

or whether there is room for them. Alas, these young people are



poor and pallid! Love SHOULD be both rich and rosy, but MUST be

either rich or rosy. Talk about military duty! What is that to



the warfare of a married maid-of-all-work, with the title of

mistress, and an American femaleconstitution, which collapses just



in the middle third of life, and comes out vulcanized India-rubber,

if it happen to live through the period when health and strength



are most wanted?]

- Have I ever acted in private theatricals? Often. I have played



the part of the "Poor Gentleman," before a great many audiences, -

more, I trust, than I shall ever face again. I did not wear a



stage-costume, nor a wig, nor moustaches of burnt cork; but I was

placarded and announced as a public performer, and at the proper



hour I came forward with the ballet-dancer's smile upon my

countenance, and made my bow and acted my part. I have seen my



name stuck up in letters so big that I was ashamed to show myself

in the place by daylight. I have gone to a town with a sober



literary essay in my pocket, and seen myself everywhere announced

as the most desperate of BUFFOS, - one who was obliged to restrain



himself in the full exercise of his powers, from prudential

considerations. I have been through as many hardships as Ulysses,



in the pursuit of my histrionic vocation. I have travelled in cars

until the conductors all knew me like a brother. I have run off



the rails, and stuck all night in snow-drifts, and sat behind

females that would have the window open when one could not wink



without his eyelids freezing together. Perhaps I shall give you

some of my experiences one of these days; - I will not now, for I



have something else for you.

Private theatricals, as I have figured in them in country lyceum-



halls, are one thing, - and private theatricals, as they may be

seen in certain gilded and frescoed saloons of our metropolis, are



another. Yes, it is pleasant to see real gentlemen and ladies, who

do not think it necessary to mouth, and rant, and stride, like most



of our stage heroes and heroines, in the characters which show off

their graces and talents; most of all to see a fresh, unrouged,



unspoiled, high bred young maiden, with a lithe figure, and a

pleasant voice, acting in those love-dramas which make us young



again to look upon, when real youth and beauty will play them for

us.



- Of course I wrote the prologue I was asked to write. I did not

see the play, though. I knew there was a young lady in it, and



that somebody was in love with her, and she was in love with him,

and somebody (an old tutor, I believe) wanted to interfere, and,



very naturally, the young lady was too sharp for him. The play of

course ends charmingly; there is a general reconciliation, and all



concerned form a line and take each others' hands, as people always

do after they have made up their quarrels, - and then the curtain



falls, - if it does not stick, as it commonly does at private

theatrical exhibitions, in which case a boy is detailed to pull it



down, which he does, blushing violently.

Now, then, for my prologue. I am not going to change my caesuras



and cadences for anybody; so if you do not like the heroic, or

iambic trimeter brachy-catalectic, you had better not wait to hear



it

THIS IS IT.



A Prologue? Well, of course the ladies know; -

I have my doubts. No matter, - here we go!



What is a Prologue? Let our Tutor teach:

PRO means beforehand; LOGOS stands for speech.



'Tis like the harper's prelude on the strings,

The prima donna's courtesy ere she sings; -



Prologues in metre are to other PROS

As worsted stockings are to engine-hose.



"The world's a stage," as Shakspeare said, one day;

The stage a world - was what he meant to say.



The outside world's a blunder, that is clear;

The real world that Nature meant is here.



Here every foundling finds its lost mamma;

Each rogue, repentant, melts his stern papa;



Misers relent, the spendthrift's debts are paid,




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