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Make all a desolation, Look, look, wench. Thi. What's that appears so sweetly? es !

There's that faceA miserable life of this poor picture !

Mart. Be moderate, lady! OLYM. Dear madam!

Thi. That's angel's faceAsp. I have done. Sit down; and let MART. Go nearer.

Thi. Martell, I cannot last long! See Upon that point fix all our eyes; that point the soul there.

(I see it perfectly) of my Ordella, Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden The heavenly figure of her sweetness, sadness

there! Give us new souls.

Forgive me, gods! it comes! Divinest

substance! In the death of Aspatia there is one

Kneel, kneel, kneel, every one! Saint of fine and deep touch not common in our

thy sex, authors:

If it be for my cruelty thou comest

Do ye see her, hoa ? Aspa. I shall surely live, Amintor; I am

MART. Yes, sir; and you shall know well :

her. A kind of healthful joy wanders within

Thi. Down, down again !- To be re

venged for blood ! AMIN. The world wants lives to excuse

Sweet spirit, I am ready. She smiles on thy loss! Come let me bear thee to some place of Oh, blessed sign of peace !

me ! help.

Mart. Go nearer, lady. Aspa. Amintor, thou must stay; I must

Ord. I come to make you happy. rest here;

Thi. Hear you that, sirs? My strength begins to disobey my will.

She comes to crown my soul : Away, get How dost thou, my best soul ? I would

sacrifice ! fain live

Whilst I with holy honorsNow, if I could ; Would'st thou have loved

MART. She is alive, sir. me then ?

Thi. In everlasting life; I know it, AMIN. Alas!

friend : All that I am's not worth a hair from thee. Oh, happy, happy soul ! Aspa. Give me thy hand ; my hands

Ord. Alas, i live, sir, grope up and down,

A mortal woman still. And cannot find thee: I am wondrous

Thi. Can spirits weep too? sick ;

Mart. She is no spirit, sir ; pray kiss Have I thy hand, Amintor ?

her. Amin. Thou greatest blessing of the Lady, be very gentle to him! world, thou hast.

Thi. Stay !she is warm ; Aspa. I do believe thee better than my And by my life, the same lips! Tell me

brightness, Oh! I must go. Farewell! [Dies. Are you the same Ordella still ? Ordella, in “ Thierry and Theodoret,”

MĂRt. The same, sir, is rated extravagantly high by Charles Whom Heavens and my good angel stayed

from ruin. Lamb. According to his judgment she

Thi. Kiss me again! “is the most perfect idea of the female

Ord. The same still, still your servant. heroic character, next to Calantha in Thi. 'Tis she! I know her now, Mar• The Broken Heart' of Ford, that has tell. Sit down, sweet! been embodied in fiction.” He also thinks Oh, bless'd and happiest woman !-A dead the first scene of the fourth act, where

slumber she offers herself joyously as a sacrifice, Begins to creep upon me: Oh, my jewel! the finest in Fletcher. It is quoted in

ORD. Oh, sleep, my lord! Lamb's “Specimens.” The death scene

Thi. My joys are too much for me! in the last act has much rapturous feel

Enter Messenger and MEMBERGE. ing. Thierry is dying of poison administered by his mother, Brunbalt. Just as

Mess. Brunhalt, impatient of her conthe latter is carried off to execution, Or

straint to see della, whom both considered dead, enters Portaldye tortured, has choaked herself. and says to Brunhalt:

MART. No more! “I do forgive you;

Her sins go with her. And though you sought my blood, yet I'll

Thi. Love, I must die; I faint:

Close up my glasses ! pray for you."

1 Doct. The queen faints too, and Thierry exclaims :



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Thi. One dying kiss.

Be as a god then, full of saving mercy! ORD. My last, sir, and my dearest! Mercy, oh, mercy, sir, for his sake mercy; And now, close my eyes too!

That, when your stout heart weeps, shall Thi. Thou perfect woman !

give you pity! Martell, the kingdom's yours: Take Mem. Here I must grow. berge to you,

ROLL. By heaven, I'll strike thee, woAnd keep my line alive !-Nay weep not, man! lady!

Edith. Most willingly; let all thy anTake me!-I go.

[Dies. ger seize me, ORD. Take me too! Farewell, Honor. All the most studied torments, so this good

[Dies. man, 2 Doct. They are gone forever.

This old man, and this innocent, escape Mart. The peace of happy souls go thee! after them!

Rollo. Carry him away, I say! Bear them unto their last beds, whilst I Edits. Now, blessing on thee! Oh, study

sweet pity, A tomb to speak their loves whilst old I see it in thy eyes.-I charge you, soldiers, Time lasteth.

Even by the prince's power, release my I am your king in sorrows.

father! Edith, in “ The Bloody Brother," a

The prince is merciful; why do you hold

him? tragedy which well bears out in criminal The prince forgets his fury; why do you incident the idea which the title would

tug him? suggest, is a character of some force of He is old: why do you hurt him? Speak, delineation in parts, but not consistently oh, speak, sir ! sustained. The second scene of the third Speak, as you are a man! a man's life act, bowever, where she pleads passion hangs, sir, ately for her father's life, has great merit. A friend's life, and a foster life, apon Duke Rollo, a man steeped in crime to you, the lips, orders the execution of Baldwin, 'Tis but a word, but mercy quickly spoke, Edith's father. She steps forward and Oh, speak, prince, speak ! kneels, exclaiming,

Rollo. Will no man here obey me? Oh, stay there Duke;

Have I no rule yet? As I live, he dies (Coming forward and kneeling. That does not execute my will, and sudAnd, in the midst of all thy blood and denly! fury,

Bald. All that thou canst do takes but Hear a poor maid's petitions, hear a daugh one short hour from me. ter,

ROLLO. Hew off her hands!
The only daughter of a wretched father ! Ham. Lady, hold off!
Oh, stay your haste, as you shall need this EDITH. No, hew 'em :

Hew off my innocent hands, as he commande Rollo. Away with this fond woman !

you ! Edith. You must hear me,

They'll hang the faster on for death's conIf there be any spark of pity in you,

vulsion. If sweet humanity and mercy rule you !

[Exit BALDWIN with the guard. I do confess you are a prince, your anger Thou seed of rocks, will nothing move thee As great as you, your execution greater

then? Rollo. Away with bim !

Are all my tears lost, all my righteous EDITH, Oh, captain, by thy manhood,

prayers By her soft soul that bare thee-1 do con. Drown'd in thy drunken wrath ? I stand fess, sir,

up thus, then; Your doom of justice on your foes most Thus boldly, bloody tyrant; righteous

And to thy face, in Heaven's high name, Good noble prince, look on me!

defy thee; Rollo. Take her from me!

And may sweet mercy, when thy soul sighs Edith. A curse upon his life that hin

for it; ders me!

When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh May father's blessing never fall upon him, trembles, May Heaven ne'er hear his prayers! I be. When neither strength, nor youth, nor seech you,

friends, nor gold, Oh, sir, these tears beseech you, these can stay one hour; when thy most wretchchaste hands woo you,

ed conscience, That never yet were heaved but to things Waked from her dream of death, like fire holy,

shall melt thee; Things like yourself! You are a god When all thy mother's tears, thy brother's above us;





Thy people's fears and curses, and my ther's death. Rollo, madly infatuated loss,

with her beauty, accepts the appointment. My aged father's loss, shall stand before In the opening of the scene she pours thee

out her hatred in twenty truculent blank Rollo. Save him, I say; run, save him,

“Give me,” she says, save her father; Fly and redeem his head ! [Exit Lat.

Give me flattery, EDITH. May then that pity,

Flattery the food of fools, that I may rock That comfort thcu expect'st from Heaven,

him, that mercy,

And lull him in the down of his desires; Be lock'd up from thee, fly thee! howlings That in the height of all his hopes and find thee,

wishes, Despair, (oh, my sweet father!) storms of His Heaven forgot, and all his lusts upon terrors,

him ! Blood till thou burst again!

My hand, like thunder from a cloud, may Rollo. Oh, fair sweet anger!

seize him! Enter LATORCH and HAMOND with BALD

The following song is then sung, as win's head.

Rollo enters—a most strange commence

ment for a bloody conclusion : LAT. I came too late, sir, 'twas dis

Take, oh, take those lips away, patch'd before; His head is here.

That so sweetly were forsworn,

And those eyes, like break of day, Rollo. And my heart there! Go, bury him;

Lights that do mislead the morn; Give him fair rites of funeral, decent hon

But my kisses bring again, ors.

Seals of love, though seal'd in vain. EDITH. Wilt thou not take me, monster? Highest Heaven,

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow, Give him a punishment fit for his mis

Which thy frozen bosom bears, chief!

On whose tops the pinks that grow . [Falls down.

Are of those that April wears ;
But first set my poor heart free,

Bound in those icy chains by thee. There is one striking peculiarity in Beaumont and Fletcher's delineation of In "The Nice Valor,” the passionate love. They generally make it an all ab- lord sings the following lyric, the origisorbing passion, "wild as the wind and nal, it is supposed, of Milton's « Il Penblind as death and ignorance,” which no seroso,” and one of the finest proofs of sense of honor or religion can control, Fletcher's genius : which goes madly to its object, sacrifi

Hence all you vain delights, cing every other principle and motive,

As short as are the nights and breaking in a moment, all the obliga Wherein you spend your folly! tions and duties of father, mother, bro- There's nought in this life sweet, ther and friend. It is all impulsesome. If man were wise to see't, times an impulse of appetite, sometimes But only melancholy; of passion, sometimes of sentiment, but Oh, sweetest melancholy ! ever as res

ess as the impulses of in- Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, sanity. Most of their lovers are in fact A sigh that piercing mortifies, “ Mad Lovers."

A look that's fastened to the ground, The lyrics in Beaumont and Fletcher's A tongue chained up, without a sound ! plays have long been famous for their Fountain heads, and pathless groves, force and sweetness of sentiment, and Places which pale passion loves ! ethereal lightness of expression. They Moonlight walks, when all the fowls are scattered with a bountiful spirit over

Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! many of their dramas. Most of them, A midnight bell, a parting groan ! we have reason to believe, were by These are the sounds we feed upon ; Fletcher. The lyrical portions of the Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy

Faithful Shepherdess " Milton, conde valley scended to imitate in « Comus." One Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melanof the most celebrated of his songs is in

choly. “ The Bloody Brother." Edith, the Aspatia, in

The Maid's Tragedy," daughter of Baldwin, whom Rollo had she, who sings “the mournfullest things murdered, invites the latter to a banquet that ever ear hath heard,” has one song with the intention of revenging her fa- of exquisite simplicity and pathos:

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Lay a garland on my hearse,

In “ The Mad Lover,” there are two of the dismal yew;

sweet and serious hymns to Venus, Maidens, willow branches bear; which we extract:

Say I died true;
My love was false, but I was firm Oh, fair sweet goddess, queen of loves,
From my hour of birth.

Soft and gentle as thy doves,
Upon my buried body lie

Humble-eyed, and ever ruing
Lightly, gentle earth!

Those poor hearts, their loves pursuing !

Oh, thou mother of delights, “ The Faithful Shepherdess” would Crowner of all happy nights, afford many beautiful lyrics, worthy of Star of dear content and pleasure, quotation. The hymn to Pan, in the last of mutual loves the endless treasure ! scene, is one of the finest. It is sung by Accept this sacrifice we bring, the shepherds and shepherdesses, as they Thou continual youth and spring,

Grant this lady her desires, strew the ground with flowers.

And every hour we'll crown thy fires.
All ye woods, and trees, and bowers,

Oh, divinest star of Heaven,
All ye virtues and ye powers
That inhabit in the lakes,

Thou, in power above the seven :

Thou sweet kindler of desires,
In the pleasant springs or brakes,

Till they grow to mutual fires :
Move your feet

Thou, oh, gentle queen, that art
To our sound,

Curer of each wounded heart:
Whilst we greet

Thou, the fuel and the flame :
All this ground,

Thou, in heaven, here the same:
With his honor and his name

Thou, the wooer and the woo'd: That defends our flock from blame

Thou, the hunger and the food :

Thou, the prayer and the pray'd; He is great, and he is just,

Thou, what is, or shall be said : He is ever good, and must

Thou, still young and golden tressed,
Thus be honor'd. Daffadillies,

Make me by thy answer blessed !
Roses, pinks, and loved lilies,
Let us fling

From the same play we quote a war
Whilst we sing,

song which has all the bustle, discord and Ever holy,

dust of a real combat. The very words Ever holy,

seem to shout and charge: Ever honor'd, ever young! Thus great Pan is ever sung!

Arm, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all

come in. The chant of the Satyr to Amoret, the Keep your ranks close, and now your hon. Faithful Shepherdess, has a Miltonic ors win, rity as well as Fletcher-like softness and Behold from yonder hill the foe appears ; lightness.

Bows, bills, glaves, arrows, shields and

spears ;

Like a dark wood he comes, or tempest Sat. Thou divinest, fairest, brightest,

pouring; Thou most powerful maid, and whitest, Thou most virtuous and most blessed,

Oh, view the wings of horse the meadow

scouring. Eyes of star, and golden tressed Like Apollo ! tell me, sweetest,

The van-guard marches bravely. Hark,

the drums, What new service now is meetest

dub, dub. For the Satyr? Shall I stray In the middle air, and stay

They meet, they meet, and now the battle The sailing rack, or nimbly take Hold by the moon, and gently make

See how the arrows fly, Suit to the pale queen of night

That darken all the sky; For a beam to give thee light?

Hark how the trumpets sound,
Shall I dive into the sea,

Hark how the hills rebound !
And bring thee coral, making way,
Through the rising waves that fall

Tara, tara. In snowy fleeces ? Dearest, shall

Hark how the horse charge ! in boys, boys I catch thee wanton fawns, or flies

in ! Whose woven wings the summer dyes The battle totters; now the wounds begin; Of many colours? get thee fruit,

Oh, how they cry, Or steal from Heaven old Orpheus' lute?

Oh, how they die ! All these I'll venture for, and more, Room for the valiant Memnon arm'd with To do her service all these woods adore. thunder!



See how he breaks the ranks asunder.

Of joys still growing, They fly, they fly! Eumenes has the Green, fresh, and lusty, as the pride of chase,

spring, And brave Polybius makes good his place.

And ever blowing.
To the plains, to the woods, Come hither, youths that blush, and dare
To the rocks, to the floods,

not know They fly for succor. Follow, follow,

What is desire, follow,

And old men, worse than you, that cannot
Hark how the soldiers hollow! Hey, hey! blow
Brave Diocles is dead,

One spark of fire.
And all his soldiers fled,

And with the power of my enchanting
The battle's won and lost,

song, That many a life has cost.

Boys shall be able men, and old men young. In the following, which we cut from Enter ANGELO on the Gallery. “ A Wife for a Month," there is a striking personification of abstract qualities : Come hither, you that hope, and you that

cry; Come, ye servants of proud Love,

Leave off complaining;
Come away:

Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall nerFairly, nobly, gently move!

er die, Too long, too long you make us stay.

Are here remaining. Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear, Come hither, fool, and blush you stay so Distrust, and Jealousy, be you too here; long Consuming Care, and raging Ire,

From being blest, And Poverty in poor attire,

And madmen worse than you, that suffer March fairly in, and last Despair.

wrong, Now full music strike the air.

Yet seek no rest.

And in an hour, with my enchanting song, Lelia in “The Captain,” is an enchant. You shall be ever pleased, and young maids ress delineated with more than Fletcher's

long. usual art. She entices men with their

The song of Apollodorus to Cleopatra, eyes open to all her faults. Julio, know

in “ The False One,” the last we can ing her wickedness, still offers her marriage. Angelo, a merry gentleman,”

quote, has a most searching sweetness

and melody: says despairingly : “I have read Epictetus

Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air : Twice over against the desire of these out- Shut-up beauty is like fire,

Even in shadows you are fair. ward things And still her face runs in my mind.”

That breaks out clearer still, and higher.

Though your body be confined, The following song has a true Cir And soft love a prisoner bound, cean richness and strength:

Yet the beauty of your mind

Neither check nor chain hath found. Come hither, you that love, and hear me Look out nobly then, and dare sing

Even the fetters that you wear.

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