they are all as mad as Manuel, who surely must have had more
interest with a corrupt bench than a distant relation and heir
presumptive, somewhat suspect of homicide,) I do not wonder at its
failure. As a play, it is impracticable; as a poem, no great
things. Who was the 'Greek that grappled with glory naked?' the
Olympic wrestlers? or Alexander the Great, when he ran stark round
the tomb of t'other fellow? or the Spartan who was fined by the
Ephori for fighting without his armour? or who? And as to 'flaying
off life like a garment,' helas! that's in Tom Thumb--see king
Arthur's soliloquy:

"'Life's a mere rag, not worth a prince's wearing;
I'll cast it off.'

And the stage-directions--'Staggers among the bodies;'--the slain
are too numerous, as well as the blackamoor knights-penitent being
one too many: and De Zelos is such a shabby Monmouth Street
villain, without any redeeming quality--Stap my vitals! Maturin
seems to be declining into Nat. Lee. But let him try again; he has
talent, but not much taste. I 'gin to fear, or to hope, that
Sotheby, after all, is to be the Eschylus of the age, unless Mr.
Shiel be really worthy his success. The more I see of the stage,
the less I would wish to have any thing to do with it; as a proof
of which, I hope you have received the third Act of Manfred, which
will at least prove that I wish to steer very clear of the
possibility of being put into scenery. I sent it from _Rome_.

"I returned the proof of Tasso. By the way, have you never received
a translation of St. Paul which I sent you, _not_ for publication,
before I went to Rome?