s," though
it has been staged, is essentially a poem to read. The historical
tragedy of "Strafford" has been impressively performed, but "King Victor
and King Charles," "The Return of the Druses," "Colombe's Birthday," "A
Soul's Tragedy," and "Luria," while interesting in many ways, can hardly
be regarded as successful stage-plays. "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon" was
performed at Drury Lane, but its chances of a successful run were
spoiled by the jealousy of Macready, the manager.

The main cause of Browning's weakness as a playwright lay in the fact
that he was so much more interested in psychology than in action. But in
the present tragedy this defect is less prominent than usual, and in
spite of flaws in construction, it reaches a high pitch of emotional
intensity, the characters are drawn with vividness, and the lines are
rich in poetry.

A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON

A TRAGEDY

(1843)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MILDRED TRESHAM.
GUENDOLEN TRESHAM.
THOROLD, Earl Tresham.
AUSTIN TRESHAM.
HENRY, Earl Mertoun.
GERARD, and other retainers of Lord Tresham.

Time, 17--

ACT I

SCENE I.--The Interior of a Lodge in Lord Tresham's Park.
Many Retainers crowded at the window, supposed to command
a view of the entrance to his Mansion.

GERARD, the Warrener, his back to a table on which are flagons,
etc.

FIRST RETAINER. Ay, do! push, friends, and then you'll push down me!
--What for? Does any hear a runner's foot
Or a steed's trample or a coach-wheel's cry?
Is the Earl come or his least poursuivant?
But there's no breeding in a man of you
Save Gerard yonder: here's a half-place yet,
Old Gerard!

GERARD. Save your courtesies, my friend. Here is my place.

SECOND RETAINER. Now, Gerard, out with it!
What makes you sullen, this of all the days
I' the year? To-day that young rich bountiful
Handsome Earl Mertoun, whom alone they match
With our Lord Tresham through the country-side,
Is coming here in utmost bravery
To ask our master's sister's hand?

GERARD. What then?

SECOND RETAINER. What then? Why, you, she speaks to, if she meets
Your worship, smiles on as you hold apart
The boughs to let her through her forest walks,
You, always favourite for your no-deserts,
You've heard, th