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Updated: May 3, 2025
Camilla was the favorite of the entire company. There was Pozzolini, the tenor, fat Badially, the bass, jolly Rocco the buffo singer and Alfred Jael the rising young pianist, merriest of them all. With each Camilla was a pet. Every one seemed ready to please the young girl and in their society life passed happily.
"I! I am an old fellow playing the fool." Suddenly his gayety had evaporated, and he was conscious of his years. He let the boat drift for a moment. "Check me another time, Vere, if you see me inclined to be buffo," he said. "Indeed I won't. Why should I? I like you best when you are quite natural." "Do you?" "Yes. Look! There are the lights! Oh, how strange they are.
"As the matter concerns me not, I pray you let me pass," said Gottfried. "The matter DOES concern thee, Gottfried of Godesberg. Liar and traitor! art thou coward, too?" "Holy Saint Buffo! As soon as the word "coward" had been pronounced by Sir Ludwig, his opponent, uttering a curse far too horrible to be inscribed here, had wheeled back his powerful piebald, and brought his lance to the rest.
"If we don't manage a canon which, according to Junker Tobias is a thing which can reel three souls out of a weaver's body we will make it awful enough to be worthy of Signor Capuzzi and his friends. Suppose we sing an Italian Terzetto buffo out of our own heads. I'll be the prima donna, and begin.
He works harder than any other marionette and consequently is always requiring renovation. There is so much renovation going on among the puppets that the buffo cannot tell exactly how many there are at any particular time. He says their number is fluid, and supposes that it rises and falls round about five hundred.
"And will you then allow us no actors of merit?" asked Vincent. "Mais oui! dans le genre comique, par exemple, votre buffo Kean met dix fois plus d'esprit et de drollerie dans ses roles que La Porte." "The impartial and profound judgment of Madame admits of no further discussion on this point," said I. "What does she think of the present state of our dramatic literature?"
Over the entrance of a little cavern in one of the rocks hanging above the Rhine-stream at Rolandseck, and covered with odoriferous cactuses and silvery magnolias, the traveller of the present day may perceive a rude broken image of a saint: that image represented the venerable Saint Buffo of Bonn, the patron of the Margrave; and Sir Ludwig, kneeling on the greensward, and reciting a censer, an ave, and a couple of acolytes before it, felt encouraged to think that the deed he meditated was about to be performed under the very eyes of his friend's sanctified patron.
"He was," says Mr. Mozley, "a great musical critic, knew all the operas, and was an admirable buffo singer." No one could doubt that, having started, Mr. Ward would go far and probably go fast. Mr.
'Marry, that the rank is but the stamp of the guinea; the man is the gold. And I tell thee, Karl of Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is base metal." "By Saint Buffo, thou beliest him, dear Ludwig." "By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, I say sooth. The fellow was known i' the camp of the crusaders disreputably known.
It is really a comical situation, considering how indelicate, stiff and guilty society is, to be an innocent girl." "That reminds me of the famous Buffo, who, while he was always making others laugh, was so sad and solemn himself." "Society is a chaos which can be brought into harmonious order only by wit.
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