ROBERT BROWNING was born in London, May 7, 1812. His father was a clerk in the Bank of England, had a taste for literature, and encouraged it in his son, to whom he gave a liberal education by private tutors and the means of travel. Robert's first published book, "Pauline," a poem, appeared anonymously in 1833Years afterward Dante Rossetti found a copy in the British Museum, suspected it to be Browning's work, and wrote to ask him if it were not his. So strong was the poet's individuality even in his youth. His drama of "Paracelsus" appeared in 1835; and in the same year Macready, the actor, made Browning's acquaintance, conceived a strong liking for him, and asked him for a play. Accordingly, "Strafford" was produced, and was put upon the stage at Covent Garden, May 1, 1837. Macready and Helen Faucit had the principal parts, and the piece was well received. Browning then wrote the plays "King Victor and King Charles " and "The Return of the Druses," but they were not acted, and the masque entitled "Pippa Passes." The masterpiece among his dramas, "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," is said to have been written in five days. It was presented at Drury Lane in February, 1843, with Mr. Phelps and Helen Faucit in the principal parts, and was triumphantly successful, in spite of the fact that Macready, who had had a misunderstanding with Browning, appeared to be rather desirous to have it fail. Lawrence Barrett produced it in Washington, in 1885, taking the part of Thorold. Browning's next play was "Colombe's Birthday," which was published in 1844, but was not put upon the stage in London till 1852. It was played at the Howard Athenæum, Boston, Mass., in 1854. "Luria" and "A Soul's Tragedy" were published in 1846. In that year he married Elizabeth Barrett, and they took up their residence in Florence, where they spent most of their time until her death in 1861. He died in Venice, December 12, 1889, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ MILDRED TRESHAM. GUENDOLEN TRESHAM. THOROLD, Earl Tresham. AUSTIN TRESHAM. HENRY, Earl Mertoun. GERARD, and other Retainers of Lord Tresham. TIME, 17—. A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON 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. F IRST RET. Ay, do! push, friends, and then you'll push What for? Does any hear a runner's foot Ger. Save your courtesies, my friend. Here is my place. Second Ret. Now, Gerard, out with it! What makes you sullen, this of all the days I' the year? To-day that young, rich, bountiful, To ask our master's sister's hand? Ger. What then? Second Ret. 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 these three days how Earl Mertoun sues To lay his heart and house and broad lands too At Lady Mildred's feet; and while we squeeze You sit o' one side "There's the Earl," say I— Third Ret. I'll wager he has let Both swans he tamed for Lady Mildred swim Ger. Ralph, Is not to-morrow my inspecting-day For you and for your hawks? Fourth Ret. Let Gerard be! He's coarse-grained, like his carved black cross-bow stock, To purpose? First Ret. Our retainers look as fine — That's comfort. Lord, how Richard holds himself Prick him upright? Fourth Ret. He's only bowing, fool! The Earl's man bent us lower by this much. First Ret. That's comfort. Here's a very cavalcade! Third Ret. I don't see wherefore Richard, and his troop Of silk and silver varlets there, should find Their perfumed selves so indispensable On high days, holidays! Would it so disgrace In my right hand a cast of Swedish hawks, Ger. The logman for supporter, in his right With Hugh The bill-hook, in his left the brushwood-shears ! Third Ret. Out on you, crab! What next, what next? The Earl ! First Ret. Oh! Walter, groom, our horses, do they match The Earl's? Alas, that first pair of the six They paw the ground - Ah, Walter! and that brute Just on his haunches by the wheel! Sixth Ret. Ay Ay ! You, Philip, are a special hand, I hear, At soups and sauces: what's a horse to you? First Ret. Gerard, see The Earl at least! Come, there's a proper man, Well, |