ABSTRACT
The author of Guido Ferranti, the sombre romantic play produced at the Broadway Theatre last night by Mr. Lawrence Barrett, has a gift that the author of Ganelon seems to lack, namely, the gift of melody. If he is, indeed, a poet, he is probably at his best in writing lyrics. His five-act play is not altogether poetical. A dramatic poet who is equal to his task is not compelled to seek in the graveyard of dead forms of speech for phrases and metaphors. There are lots of reminiscent lines in Guide Ferranti. They actually speak in it of a ‘foul, unnatural murder’;1 there is an oath of vengeance that is a reminder of a dozen almost forgotten tragedies, but there are some passages full of the fire of eloquence. The rhythm is there, if there is not much in the matter. One of the speeches of Beatrice, Duchess of Padua, is something like this:
I care not if you either stay or go, For, if you stay, you steal my love from me, And, if you go, you take my love away! Guido, if all the morning stars could sing at once They could not tell the measure of my love!
