THE COLOSSEUM AT ROME. THE favourable reception that has been given to my last communication, comparing, or rather contrasting, the views of the scholar who considers that learning is all-in-all, and the practical observer, who considers that the existing remains of the buildings of the period are better evidence of the facts than anything that has been written, or that can be written, about them, has led me to offer a continuation of it. In the case of the Forum, these remains had been entirely buried for centuries, and have only been brought to light by the enormous excavations of the last few years. This is equally the case, or more so, in the Colosseum. No disrespect to Mr. Burn is intended by making use of the abridgment of his great work as an embodiment of the scholar's view-generally entertained by German scholars, followed too blindly by the English, who will not take the trouble of going to Rome to use their own eyes, or even looking at any photographs of the objects brought to light by the recent excavations; and although both Pope Pius IX., with Cardinal Antonelli, and, ten years afterwards, King Humbert, with the Italian Government, have called me a benefactor of Rome by "demonstrating the truth of the early history which had been considered as fabulous for the last half century," and this latter, as the Italian ambassador was directed to say, was "after consideration and inquiry." Still scholars are so blindly prejudiced that they cannot see the truth when plainly put before them. I now proceed to shew the same contrast in the COLOSSEUM. I prefer to take this form of the word to the one used by Mr. Burn of Coliseum; it was so called because it was a colossal building, and it probably had that name originally, before the time of the Flavian Emperors, who only built the outer walls and the corridors. I am giving engravings from photographs as my witnesses. "The entablature of the first storey is surmounted by an attica, with projections corresponding to the columns below. Above these stand the arches of the second storey, between which half-columns of the Ionic order are placed. The details of the architecture here are in a very meagre style, for the spiral lines on the volutes are omitted, and also the usual toothed-ornaments of the entablature. The same remark applies to the third storey, the half-columns of which have Corinthian capitals, with the acanthus foliage very roughly worked. The fourth storey has no arches, but consists of a wall, pierced with larger and smaller square windows placed alternately, and is decorated with pilasters of the Composite order. Between each pair of pilasters three consoles project from the wall, and above these are corresponding niches in the entablature. The purpose of these I. COLOSSEUM, VIEW OF THE MOST PERFECT PART OF THE EXTERIOR II. COLOSSEUM, PART OF THE EXCAVATIONS IN 1878, SHEWING THE INNER WALLS TO SUPPORT THE FLOOR: AND THE DENS. Duke. And you. can let you understand, the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise. Duke. Wise? why, no question but he was. Luc. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighings fellow. Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted What news need, give him a better proclamation. Let him Luc. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. [exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. What news, friar, of the duke? Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any? Luc. Some say, he is with the emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you? Duke. I know not where: but wheresoever, I wish him well. Luc. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't. Duke. He does well in't. Luc. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. Luc. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after the downright way of creation is it true, think you? Duke. How should he be made then? Luc. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him:Some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes: -but it is certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible. Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. Luc. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take away the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. Duke. I never heard the absent duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way. Luc. O, sir, you are deceived. Duke. 'Tis not possible. Luc. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clackdish: the duke had crotchets in him: he would be drunk too; that let me inform you. Duke. You do him wrong, surely. Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shy fellow was the duke: and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing. Duke. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause! Luc. No, pardon;-'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips: but this I be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious, a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier; therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice. Luc. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. Luc. Come, sir, I know what I know. Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, (as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to make your answer before him: if it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name? [the duke. Luc. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. Luc. I fear you not. Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll fors wear this again. Luc. I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this: canst thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no? Duke. Why should he die, sir? ous. Luc. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherThe duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say, that I said so. Farewell. [exit. Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here? Enter Escalus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers. Esc. Go, away with her to prison. Bawd. Good, my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord. Esc. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant. Pro. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your honour. Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information | how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with understand that you have lent him visitation. child by him in the duke's time, he promised her marriage; his child is a year and a quarter eld, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me. Esc. That fellow is a fellow of much licence -let him be called before us-Away with her to prison. Goto; no more words. [exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered, Claudio must die to-morrow; let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation: if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Pro. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Esc. Good even, good father. Duke. Bliss and goodness on you! Esc. Of whence are you? Duke. Not of this country, though my chance To use it for my time: I am a brother [is now Of gracious order, late come from the see, In special business from his holiness. Esc. What news abroad i'the world? Duke. None, but that there is so great & fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as danger ous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive, to make societies secure; but security enough, to make fellowships accursed: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke? Esc. One, that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. Duke. What pleasure was he given to? Esc. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measures from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. Esc. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman, to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath foreca me to tell him, he is indeed justice. Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. Esc. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you Duke. Peace be with you! {well. [exeunt Escalus and Provost He, who the sword of heaven will bear, Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; Mare nor less to others paying, Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him, whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice, and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How many likeness, made in crimes, Making practice on the times, Draw with idle spiders' strings Most pond'rous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply: With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed, but despis'd; So disguise shall, by the disguis'd, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. To make bad, good, and good provoke to harm. pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me here to-day? much upon this time have I promis'd here to meet. Mar. You have not been inquired after: I have sat here all day. Enter Isabella. -The time Duke. I do constantly believe you :is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little; may be, I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. [exit. Mar. I am always bound to you. Duke. Very well met, and welcome. What is the news from this good deputy? Isab. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; And to that vineyard is a planched gate, That makes his opening with this bigger key: This other doth command a little door, Which from the vineyard to the garden leads; Duke. Are there no other tokens Duke. 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this:-What, ho! within! come forth! Re-enter Mariana. I pray you, be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. Isab. I do desire the like. Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? found it. Mar. Good friar, I know you do, and have Duke. Take then this your companion by the Who hath a story ready for your ear: [hand, I shall attend your leisure; but make haste; The vaporous night approaches. Mar. Will't please you walk aside ? [exeunt Mariana and Isubella. Duke. O place and greatness, millions of false Are stuck upon thee! volumes of report Leyes Run with these false and most contrarious quests Upon thy doings! thousand 'scapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, [agreed? And rack thee in their fancies!-Welcome! How Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. Duke. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. Isab. Little have you to say, When you depart from him, but, soft and low, Mar. Fear me not. him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment. and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious bawd. Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out of mind; but yet will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. [there? Prov. What ho, Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Do you call, sir? Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you tomorrow in your execution: if you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him: he cannot plead his estination with you; he hath been a bawd Abhor. A bawd, sir? discredit our mystery. Fie upon him, he will Prov. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. [exit. Clo. Pray, sir, by your good favour, (for, surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery. Clo Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mys tery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. Clo. Proof. Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief; if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Are you agreed? Clo. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find, your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe, to-morrow four o'clock.. Abhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. Clo. I do desire to learn, sir; and, I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare: for truly, sir, for your kindness, I owe you a good turn. Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio; [exeunt Clown and Abhorson. One has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. Enter Claudio. Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? [labour, Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: He will not wake. Prov. Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise? [knocking with |