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ACT V.

SCENE II,

Can prescribe man obedience !

Thy body to the reverend dispose Never look upon me more.

Of some good women ; that the cruel tyrant
Bos. Why, fare thee well :

Shall not deny me : then I'll post to Milan,
Your brother and yourself are worthy men ; Where somewhat I will speedily enact
You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves,

Worth my dejection.
Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance,
Like two chain'd bullets, still goes arm in arm.
You may be brothers : for treason, like the plague,

FROM THE SAME.
Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one
That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream.

Persons.--ANTONIO, DELIO, Echo from the Duchess's grave. I am angry with myself, now that I wake.

Ferd. Get thee into some unknown part o'th' Delio. Yond's the cardinal's window, This That I may never see thee.

[world,

fortification Bos. Let me know

Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey ;
Wherefore I should be thus neglected ? Sir, And to yond side o' th' river lies a wall,
I served your tyranny, and rather strove

Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion
To satisfy yourself than all the world ;

Gives the best echo that you ever heard ; And though I loathed the evil, yet I loved

So hollow and so dismai, and withal You that did counsel it, and rather sought

So plain in the distinction of our words, To appear a true servant than an honest man.

That many have supposed it is a spirit Ferd. I'll go hunt the badger by owl-light: That answers. 'Tis a deed of darkness.

(Exit.

Antonio. I do love these ancient ruins : Bos. He's much distracted. Off, my painted We never tread upon them but we set honour !

Our foot upon some reverend history; While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, And, questionless, here in this open court, We seem to sweat in ice, and freeze in fire ; Which now lies naked to the injuries What would I do, were this to do again ?

Of stormy weather, some men lie interr'd I would not change my peace of conscience Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to't, Forallthe wealth of Europe. She stirs ! here's life! | They thought it should have canopied their bones Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine Till doomsday. But all things have their end : Out of this sensible hell,

She's warm, she Churches and cities, which have diseases like to breathes.

Must have like death that we have. [men, Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart,

Echo. Like death that we have.
To store them with fresh colour. Who's there? Del. Now the echo hath caught you.
Some cordial drink! Alas, I dare not call :

Ant. It groan'd, methought, and gave
So pity would destroy pity. Her eye opes, A very deadly accent.
And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut, Echo. Deadly accent.
To take me up to mercy.

Del. I told you 'twas a pretty one.
Duch. Antonio !

A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician, (make it Bos. Yes, madam, he is living :

Or a thing of sorrow.
The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues; Echo. A thing of sorrow.
He's reconciled to your brother ; the Pope bath Ant. Ay, sure : that suits it best.
The atonement.

(wrought Echo. That suits it best. Duch. Mercy.

[She dies.

Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice. Bos. Oh, she's gone again : there the cords of Echo. Ay, wife's voice. life broke.

Del. Come, let's walk farther from't : Oh, sacred innocence ! that sweetly sleeps

I would not have you go to th’ cardinal's to-night: On turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscience Do not. Is a black register, wherein is writ

Echo. Do not.

(sorrow All our good deeds, and bad ; a perspective

Del. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting That shows us hell, that we cannot be suffer's Than time; take time for't: be mindful of thy safety. To do good when we have a mind to it !

Echo. Be mindful of thy safety. This is manly sorrow ;

Ant. Necessity compels me : These tears, I am very certain, never grew

Make scrutiny throughout the passes In my mother's milk. My estate is sunk

Of your own life ; you'll find it impossible
Below the degree of fear: where were

To fly your fate.
These penitent fountains while she was living ? Echo. Oh, fly your fate.
Oh, they were frozen up. Here is a sight

Del. Hark : the dead stones seem to have pity As direful to my soul as is the sword

And give you good counsel.

[on you. Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, I'll Ant. Echo, I will not talk with thee, bear thee hence,

For thou art a dead thing. And execute thy last will ; that's deliver

Echo. Thou art a dead thing.

You may

Ant. My duchess is asleep now,
And her little ones, I hope sweetly : Oh, heaven!
Shall I never see her more ?

Echo. Never see her more.

Ant. I mark'd not one repetition of the Echo But that, and on the sudden a clear light Presented me a face folded in sorrow,

Del. Your fancy, merely,

Ant. Come, I'll be out of this ague ; For to live thus, is not indeed to live ; It is a mockery and abuse of life :

I will not henceforth save myself by halves,
Lose all or nothing.

Del. Your own virtue save you.
I'll fetch your eldest son, and second you.
It may be that the sight of his own blood,
Spread in so sweet a figure, may beget
The more compassion.
However, fare you well!
Though in our miseries Fortune have a part,
Yet, in our noble sufførings, she hath none;
Contempt of pain, that we may call our own.

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It is painful to find the name of Ford a barren had for some time been known as a dramatic spot in our poetical biography, marked by nothing writer, his works having been printed a considerbut a few dates and conjectures, chiefly drawn able time after their appearance on the stage ; from his own dedications. He was born of a and, according to the custom of the age, had been respectable family in Devonshire ; was bred to associated in several works with other composers. the law, and entered of the Middle Temple at the With Dekker he joined in dramatizing a story, age of seventeen. At the age of twenty, he pub which reflects more disgrace upon the age than lished a poem, entitled Fame's Memorial, in all its genius could redeem ; namely, the fate of honour of the deceased Earl of Devonshire ; and Mother Sawyer, the Witch of Edmonton, an aged from the dedication of that piece it appears that woman, who had been recently the victim of legal he chiefly subsisted upon his professional labours, and superstitious murdermaking poetry the solace of his leisure hours.

Nil adeo fædum quod non exacta vetustas All his plays were published between the year

Ediderit. 1629 and 1639 ; but before the former period he The time of his death is unknown.

FROM “ THE LOVER'S MELANCHOLY *.”

ACT IV. SCENE III.

Palador, Prince of Cyprus, having fallen into melancholy | Though I can sleep in silence, and look on

from the disappointment of losing Eroclea, to whom The mockery you make of my dull patience ; he was attached, a masque is prepared to divert his

Yet you shall know, the best of ye, that in me thoughts, at the representation of which he sees a youth, passing by the name of Parthenophill, whose resemblance

There is a masculine, a stirring spirit, to his mistress strikes him.

Which [once] provoked, shall, like a bearded SCENE-A Room at the Palace.

comet, Persons–PALADOR, Prince of Cyprus ; Aretus, his tutor;

Set ye at gaze, and threaten horror. SOPHRONOS, uncle to EROCLEA; PELIAS, a courtier ;

Pel.

Good sir. MENAPHON, son of SOPHRONOS; AMETHUS, cousin to the Pal. Good sir ! 'tis not your active wit or lanPrince ; RHETIAS, servant to EROCLEA.

guage,

* I have declined obtruding on the reader some passages Enter ARETUS and SOPHRONOS.

in Ford's plays which possess a superior power to the preAre. The prince is thoroughly moved.

sent scene, bo ause they have been ipated by Mr. Soph.

I never saw him Lamb in his Dramatic Specimens. Even if this had not

been the case, I should have felt reluctant to give a place So much distemper’d.

to one dreadfully beautiful specimen of his affecting powers, Are.

What should this young man be, in the tragedy of the Brother and Sister. Better that poetry Or whither can he be convey'd ?

should cease, than have to do with such subjects. The Soph. 'Tis to me

Lover's Melancholy has much of thegrace and sweetness that

distinguishes the genius of Ford. ["Mr. Campbell speaks A mystery ; I understand it not.

favourably of the poetic portion of this play; be thinks and Are. Nor I.

I fully agree with him, that it has much of the grace and

sweetness which distinguish the genius of Ford. It has Enter PALADOR, ANETHUS and PELIAS.

also somewhat more of the sprightliness in the language Pal. You have consented all to work upon of the secondary characters, than is commonly found in his The softness of my nature ; but take heed :

plays."--GIFFORD.]

Nor your grave politic wisdoms, lords, shall dare At last, and ends in sorrow : but the life,
To check-mate and control my just demands. Weary of riot, numbers every sand,

Wailing in sighs, until the last drop down ;
Enter MENAPHON.

So to conclude calamity in rest.
Where is the youth, your friend? Is he found yet? Pal. What echo yields a voice to my complaints?
Men. Not to be heard of.

Can I be nowhere private ?
Pal.
Fly then to the desert,

Ero.

Let the substance Where thou didst first encounter this fantastic,

As suddenly be hurried from your eyes, This airy apparition : come no more

As the vain sound can pass your ear, In sight! Get ye all from me! He that stays

If no impression of a troth vow'd yours Is not my friend.

Retain a constant memory.

[Kneels. Amet. 'Tis strange.

Pal.

Stand up! Are. and Soph.

We must obes.

'Tis not the figure, stamp'd upon thy cheeks, [Exeunt all but PALADOR.

The cozenage of thy beauty, grace, or tongue,

Can draw from me a secret, that hath been Pal. Some angry power cheats, with rare delu

The only jewel of my speechless thoughts. sions,

Ero. I am so worn away with fears and sorrows, My credulous sense : the very soul of reason

So winter'd with the tempests of affliction, Is troubled in me.—The physician

That the bright sun of your life-quickening presence Presented a strange mask, the view of it

Hath scarce one beam of force to warm again Puzzled my understanding : but the boy

That spring of cheerful comfort, which youth once Enter RHETIAS.

Appareld in fresh looks.

Pal. Rhetias, thou art acquainted with my griefs ;

Cunning impostor ! Parthenophill is lost, and I would see him :

Untruth hath made thee subtle in thy trade : For he is like to something I remember

If any neighb’ring greatness hath seduced A great while since, a long, long time ago.

A free-born resolution, to attempt Rhe. I have been diligent, sir, to pry into every

Some bolder act of treachery, by cutting corner for discovery, but cannot meet with him.

My weary days off ; wherefore, (cruel mercy !) There is some trick, I am confident.

Hast thou assumeda shape, that would make treason Pal. There is, there is some practice, slight, or

A piety, guilt pardonable, bloodshed plot.

As holy as the sacrifice of peace ? Rhe. I have apprehended a fair wench, in an

Ero. The incense of my love-desires is flamed odd private lodging in the city, as like the youth in

Upon an altar of more constant proof. face as can by possibility be discerned.

Sir, O sir ! turn me back into the world, Pal. How, Rhetias ?

Command me to forget my name, my birth, Rhe. If it be not Parthenophill in long coats,

My father's sadness, and my death alive, 'tis a spirit in his likeness ; answer I can get none

If all remembrance of my faith hath found from her : you shall see her.

A burial, without pity, in your scorn. Pal. The young man in disguise, upon my life,

Pal. Myscorn, disdainful boy, shallsoon unweave

The web thy art hath twisted. Cast thy shape off; To steal out of the land. Rhe. I'll send him to you.

Disrobe the mantle of a feigned sex,

And so I may be gentle : as thou art, (Exit RHETIA3.

There's witchcraft in thy language, in thy face, Enter behind EROCLEA (PARTHENOPHILL) in female In thy demeanours. Turn! turn from me, pr’ythee:

For my belief is arm’d else. Yet, fair subtilty, Pal. Do, do, my Rhetias. Asthere is by nature, Before we part (for part we must), be true ; In everything created, contrariety :

Tell me thy country. So likewise is there unity and league

Ero.

Cyprus. Between them in their kind; but man, the abstract Pal.

Ha ! thy father ? Of all perfection, which the workmanship

Ero. Meleander. Of heaven hath modell’d, in himself contains

Pal.

Hast a name ? Passions of sev'ral qualities; the music

Ero.

A name of misery ; Of man's fair composition best accords

Th' unfortunate Eroclea. When 'tis in concert, not in single strains.

Pal.

There is danger My heart has been untuned these many months, In this seducing counterfeit. Great Goodness! Wanting her presence, in whose equal love Hath honesty and virtue left the time? True harmony consisted ; living here,

Are we become so impious, that to tread We are heav'n's bounty all, but fortune's exercise. The path of impudence, is law and justice ?

Ero. Minutes are number'd by the fall of sands, | Thou vizard of a beauty ever sacred, As by an hour-glass ; the span of time

Give me thy name ! Doth waste us to our graves, and we look on it.

Ero.

Whilst I was lost to memory, An age of pleasures, revellid out, comes home Parthenophill did shroud my shame in change

attire.

Of sundry rare misfortunes : but, since now
I am, before I die, return'd to claim
A convoy to my grave, I must not blush
To let prince Palador, if I offend,
Know, when he dooms me, that he dooms Eroclea.
I am that woful maid.
Pal.

Join not too fast
Thy penance with the story of my sufferings :-
So dwelt simplicity with virgin truth ;
So martyrdom and holiness are twins,
As innocence and sweetness on thy tongue ;
But, let me by degrees collect my senses ;
I may abuse my trust. Tell me, what air
Hast thou perfumed, since tyranny first ravish'd
The contract of our hearts.
Ero.

Dear sir, in Athens
Have I been buried.
Pal.

Buried ? Right, as I

In Cyprus.-Come ! to trial, if thou beest
Eroclea ; in my bosom I can find thee.
Ero. As I, prince Palador, in mine : this gift

[She shows him a tablet.
His bounty bless'd me with, the only physic
My solitary cares have hourly took
To keep me from despair.
Pal.

We are but fools
To trifle in disputes, or vainly struggle
With that eternal mercy which protects us.
Come home, home to my heart, thou banish'd peace!
My ecstacy of joys would speak in passion,
But that I would not lose that part of man,
Which is reserved to entertain content.
Eroclea, I am thine : 0, let me seize thee
As my inheritance. Hymen shall now
Set all his torches burning, to give light
Throughout this land, new-settled in thy welcome.

WILLIAM ROWLEY.

(Born, 15 Died, 1640 ?]

com

Op William Rowley nothing more is known than that he was a player by profession, and for several years at the head of the Prince's pany of comedians. Though his name is found in one instance affixed to a piece conjointly with Shakspeare's, he is generally classed only in the third rank of our dramatists. His Muse is evidently a plebeian nymph, and had not been educated in the school of the Graces. His most tolerable production is the “ New Wonder, or

a Woman never vext.” Its drafts of citizen life and manners have an air of reality and honest truth-the situations and characters are forcible, and the sentiments earnest and unaffected. The author seems to move in the sphere of life which he imitates, with no false fears about its dignity, and is not ashamed to exhibit his broken merchant hanging out the bag for charity among the debtors of a prison-house.

SCENE FROM TIIE COMEDY OF “A NEW WONDER, OR A WOMAN NEVER VEXT."

Persons. The Widow and DOCTOR.

Even rom my weaning hour unto this minute,

Did never taste what was calamity ? Doct. You sent for me, gentlewoman ?

I know not yet what grief is, yet have sought Wid. Sir, I did ; and to this end :

An hundred ways for its acquaintance : with me I have scruples in my conscience ;

Prosperity hath kept so close a watch, Some doubtful problems which I cannot answer

That even those things that I have meant a cross, Nor reconcile ; I'd have you make them plain.

Have that way turn'd a blessing. Is it not strange? Doct. This is my duty : pray speak your mind.

Doct. Unparallel'd; this gift is singular, Wid. And as I speak, I must remember heaven, And to you alone belonging: you are the moon, That gave those blessings which I must relate :

For there's but one, all women else are stars, Sir, you now behold a wondrous woman ;

For there are none of like condition. You only wonder at the epithet ;

Full oft, and many, have I heard complain I can appprove it good : guess at mine age.

Of discontents, thwarts, and adversities,
Doct. At the half-way 'twixt thirty and forty.

But a second to yourself I never knew :
Wid. 'Twas not much amiss ; yet nearest to the To groan under the superflux of blessings,
How think you then, is not this a wonder? [last. To have ever been alien unto sorrow.
That a woman lives full seven-and-thirty years

No trip of fate? Sure it is wonderful.
Maid to a wife, and wife unto a widow,

Wid. Ay, sir, 'tis wonderful : but is it well ? Now widow'd, and mine own, yet all this while

For it is now my chief affliction. From the extremest verge

my remembrance,

I have heard you say, that the child of heaven [* Prince Charles, afterwards Charles I. The play in Shall suffer many tribulations ;

[jects : which his name is printed conjointly with Shakspeare's is called The Birth of Merlin]

Nay, kings and princes share them with their sub

of

Then I that know not any chastisement,

And baited fishes with thy silver flies; How may I know my part of childhood ?

Lost, and fetch'd more: why, this had been my joy, Doct. 'Tis a good doubt; but make it not extreme. Perhaps at length thou wouldst have wasted my "Tis some affliction, that you are afflicted

store ; For want of affliction ; cherish that :

Why, this had been a blessing too good for me. Yet wrest it not to misconstruction ;

Steph. Content thee, sweet, those days are gone, For all your blessings are free gifts from heaven ; Ay, even from my memory ; Health, wealth, and peace ; nor can they turn to I have forgot that e’er I had such follies, But by abuse. Pray let me question you : [curses, And I'll not call 'em back : my cares are bent You lost a husband, was it no grief to you? To keep your state, and give you all content.

Wid. It was ; but very small : no sooner I Roger, go, call your fellow-servants up to me, Had given it entertainment as a sorrow,

And to my chamber bring all books of debt ; But straight it turn’d unto my treble joy : I will o'erlook, and cast up all accounts, A comfortable revelation prompts me then, That I may know the weight of all my cares, That husband (whom in life I held so dear) And once a year give up my stewardship. Had changed a frailty to unchanging joys ; Methought I saw him stellified in heaven,

Enter ROBERT. And singing hallelujahs ’mongst a quire

Steph. Oh, nephew, are you come! the welcomest Of white-sainted souls : then again it spake,

wish And said ; it was a sin for me to grieve

That my heart has ; this is my kinsman, sweet. At his best good, that I esteemed best :

Wife. Let him be largely texted in your love, And thus this slender shadow of a grief

That all the city may read it fairly : Vanish'd again.

[from You cannot remember me, and him forget; Doct. All this was happy; nor can you wrest it we were alike to you in poverty. [love, A heavenly blessing : do not appoint the rod ;

Steph. I should have begg’d that bounty of your Leave still the stroke unto the magistrate :

Though you had scanted me to have given't him ; The time is not past, but you may feel enough. For we are one, I an uncle nephew, Wid. One taste more I had, although but little,

He a nephew uncle. But, my sweet self, Yet I would aggravate to make the most on't ;

My slow request you have anticipated Thus 'twas : the other day it was my hap, With proffer'd kindness ; and I thank you for it. In crossing of the Thames,

But how, kind cousin, does your father use you? To drop that wedlock ring from off my finger, Is your name found again within his books ? That once conjoined me and my dead husband; Can he read son there? It sunk; I prized it dear; the dearer, 'cause it kept Rob. 'Tis now blotted quite : Still in mine eye the memory of my loss ; For by the violent instigation Yet I grieved the loss; and did joy withal, Of my cruel step-mother, his vows and oaths That I had found a grief : and this is all Are stamp'd against me, ne'er to acknowledge me, The sorrow I can boast of.

Never to call, or bless me as a child ; Doct. This is but small.

But in his brow, his bounty and behaviour Wid. Nay, sure I am of this opinion,

I read it all most plainly.

[at home, That had I suffer'd a draught to be made for it, Steph. Cousin, grieve not at it ; that father lost The bottom would have sent it up again,

You shall find here ; and with the loss of his inheI am so wondrously fortunate.

You meet another amply proffer'd you ; [ritance, Doct. You would not suffer it ?

Be my adopted son, no more my kinsman :
(To his Wife.) So that this borrow'd bounty do
From your consent.

[not stray

Wife. Call it not borrow'd, sir; 'tis all your own; STEPHEN, A RECLAIMED GAMESTER, NEWLY

Here 'fore this reverend man I make it known, MARRIED TO THE OVER-FORTUNATE WIDOW.

Thou art our child as free by adoption,

As derived from us by conception,
Persons–STEPHEN, Robekt his nephew, and Widow.

Birth, and propinquity; inheritor
Enter Stephen with bills and bonds.

To our full substance.
Wife. How now, sweetheart? what hast thou Rob. You were born to bless us both;
there?

My knee shall practise a son's duty Steph. I find much debts belonging to you, sweet; Even beneath a son's ; giving you all And my care must be now to fetch them in. The comely dues of parents ; yet not

Wife. Ha ! ha! prithee do not mistake thyself, Forgetting my duty to my father : Nor my true purpose ; I did not wed to thrall, Where'er I meet him he shall have my knee, Or bind thy large expense, but rather to add Although his blessing ne'er return to me. [thee A plenty to that liberty ; I thought by this, Steph. Come then, my dearest son, I'll now give Thou wouldst have stuff’d thy pockets full of gold, A taste of my love to thee : be thou my deputy, And thrown it at a hazard; made ducks and drakes, The factor and disposer of my business ;

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