“_Oo_ must come and sit among them, Sylvie,” he said in despair, “I’ve put these two side-by-side, with their noses the same way, ever so many times, but they _do_ squarrel so!”
So Sylvie took her place as ‘Mistress of the Ceremonies,’ and Bruno vanished again behind the scenes, to dress for the first ‘Bit.’
“Hamlet!” was suddenly proclaimed, in the clear sweet tones I knew so well. The croaking all ceased in a moment, and I turned to the stage, in some curiosity to see what Bruno’s ideas were as to the behaviour of Shakespeare’s greatest Character.
According to this eminent interpreter of the Drama, Hamlet wore a short black cloak (which he chiefly used for muffling up his face, as if he suffered a good deal from toothache), and turned out his toes very much as he walked. “To be or not to be!” Hamlet remarked in a cheerful tone, and then turned head-over-heels several times, his cloak dropping off in the performance.
I felt a little disappointed: Bruno’s conception of the part seemed so wanting in dignity. “Won’t he say any more of the speech?” I whispered to Sylvie.
“I _think_ not,” Sylvie whispered in reply. “He generally turns head-over-heels when he doesn’t know any more words.”
Bruno had meanwhile settled the question by disappearing from the stage; and the Frogs instantly began inquiring the name of the next Character.
“You’ll know directly!” cried Sylvie, as she adjusted two or three young Frogs that had struggled round with their backs to the stage. “Macbeth!” she added, as Bruno re-appeared.
Macbeth had something twisted round him, that went over one shoulder and under the other arm, and was meant, I believe, for a Scotch plaid. He had a thorn in his hand, which he held out at arm’s length, as if he were a little afraid of it. “Is this a _dagger_?” Macbeth inquired, in a puzzled sort of tone: and instantly a chorus of “Thorn! Thorn!” arose from the Frogs (I had quite learned to understand their croaking by this time).
“It’s a _dagger_!” Sylvie proclaimed in a peremptory tone. “Hold your tongues!” And the croaking ceased at once.
Shakespeare has not told us, so far as I know, that Macbeth had any such eccentric habit as turning head-over-heels in private life: but Bruno evidently considered it quite an essential part of the character, and left the stage in a series of somersaults. However, he was back again in a few moments, having tucked under his chin the end of a tuft of wool (probably left on the thorn by a wandering sheep), which made a magnificent beard, that reached nearly down to his feet.