Still I managed to sit it through.
The one thing in it that held me a pleased spectator was the graceful
costume of a certain player who looked like a fine old portrait--by
Vandyke or Velasquez, let us say--that had come to life and kicked off
its tarnished frame.
I do not know at what epoch of the world's history the scene of the play
was laid; possibly the author originally knew, but it was evident that
the actors did not, for their make-ups represented quite antagonistic
periods. This circumstance, however, detracted only slightly from the
special pleasure I took in the young person called Delorme. He was
not in himself interesting; he was like that Major Waters in "Pepys's
Diary"--"a most amorous melancholy gentleman who is under a despayr in
love, which makes him bad company;" it was entirely Delorme's dress.
I never saw mortal man in a dress more sensible and becoming. The
material was according to Polonius's dictum, rich but not gaudy, of some
dark cherry-colored stuff with trimmings of a deeper shade.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103