« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Keep my accounts, and order my affairs ;
[Exit STEPHEN and ROBERT.
Wife. Will the tide never turn? was ever woman
Doct. Spoil not a good text with a false comment;
(Born; 1584. Died, 1640.)
The father of this dramatic poet was attached authority of Langhaine, that he was not supto the family of Henry, the second Earl of Pem ported at all at Oxford by the Earl of Pembroke, broke, and died in the service of that honourable but by his own father, and concludes that he was house. The name of a servant carried with it withdrawn from it solely by the calamitous event no sense of degradation in those times, when the of his death. Whatever was the cause, he left great lords and officers of the court numbered the university abruptly, and coming to London, inferior nobles among their followers. On one without friends, or fortune, or profession, was, occasion the poet's father was the bearer of letters as he informs us himself, driven by his necessifrom the Earl of Pembroke to Queen Elizabeth; ties to the stage for support. a circumstance which has been justly observed to From the period of his arrival in London in indicate that he could be no mean person, consi 1606 till the year 1622, when his Virgin Martyr dering the punctilious respect which Elizabeth appeared in print, it is sufficiently singular that exacted from her courtiers.
we should have no notice of Massinger, except Massinger was born at Salisbury, or probably in one melancholy relic that was discovered by at Wilton, in its neighbourhood, the seat of the Mr. Malone in Dulwich college, namely, a letter Earl of Pembroke, in whose family he also ap subscribed by him and two other dramatic poets t, pears to have been educated. That nobleman in which they solicit the advance of five pounds died in the poet's sixteenth year, who thus unfor from the theatrical manager, to save them from tunately lost whatever chance he ever had of his the horrors of a gaol. The distressful docuprotecting kindness. His father continued indeed ment accidentally discovers the fact of Masin the service of the succeeding earl *, who was singer having assisted Fletcher in one of his an accomplished man, a votary of the muses, dramas, and thus entitles Sir Aston Cokayne's and one of the brightest ornaments of the court assertion to belief, that he assisted him in more of Elizabeth and James ; but he withheld his than one. Though Massinger therefore did not patronage from a man of genius, who had claims appear in print during the long period already to it, and would have done it honour, for reasons mentioned, his time may be supposed to have that have not been distinctly explained in the been partly employed in those confederate underscanty and sorrowful history of the poet. Mr. takings which were so common during the early Gifford, dissatisfied with former reasons alleged vigour of our stage ; and there is the strongest for this neglect, and convinced from the perusal presumptive evidence that he was also engaged of his writings that Massinger was a catholic, in plays of his own composition, which have been conjectures that it may be attributed to his lost to the world among those literary treasures having offended the earl by having apostatised that perished by the neglect of Warburton, the while at the university to that obnoxious faith. Somerset herald, and the unconscious sacrilege He was entered as a commoner of St. Alban's of his cook. Of Massinger's fame for rapidity Hall, Oxford, in his eighteenth year, where he in composition Langbaine has preserved a testicontinued only four years. Wood and Davies mony in the lines of a contemporary poet : after conclude that he missed a degree, and was sud the date of his first printed performance those of denly withdrawn from the university, in conse his subsequent works come in thick succession, quence of Pembroke's disapprobation of his and there can be little doubt that the period preattachment to poetry and romances, instead of ceding it was equally prolific. logic and philosophy. Mr. Gifford prefers the Of his private life literally nothing can be said * William, the third Earl of Pembroke.
† Nathaniel Field and Robert Daborne.
to be known, except that his dedications bespeak stone or inscription of any kind marked the place incessant distress and dependence, while the where his dust was deposited; even the memorial recommendatory poems prefixed to his plays of his mortality is given with a pathetic brevity, address him with attributes of virtue, which are which accords but too well with the obscure and seldom lavished with fattery or falsehood on humble circumstances of his life—“ March 20, those who are poor. In one of his dedications 1639.40, buried Philip Massinger, a stranger *;" he acknowledges the bounty of Philip, Earl of and of all his admirers only Sir Aston Cokayne Montgomery, the brother to that Earl of Pem dedicated a line to his memory. Even posterity broke who so unaccountably neglected him ; but did him long injustice: Rowe, who had discovered
as Massinger's acknowledgments are, his merits in the depth of their neglect, forbore the assistance appears to have been but transi to be his editor, in the hopes of concealing his tory. On the 17th of March, 1640, having gone plagiarism from the Fatal Dowry t; and he to bed in apparent health the preceding night, seemed on the eve of oblivion, when Dodsley's he was found dead in the morning, in his own reprint of our old plays brought him faintly into house, in the Bank-side. He was buried in the that light of reputation, which has been made church-yard of St. Saviour's, and his fellow- , perfectly distinct by Mr. Gifford's edition of his comedians attended him to the grave ; but it works. does not appear from the strictest search that a
FROM “ THE DUKE OF MILAN," A TRAGEDY.
Sforza, Duke of Milan, in his passionate attachment to
his wife Marcelia, cannot endure the idea of her surviving him, and being called out to war, leaves an order to his favourite Francisco, that in the event of his falling in the contest he should put the duchess to death. Marcelia's discovery of this frantic order brings on the jealousy and deaths that form the catastrophe of the piece.
MARCELIA TEMPTED BY FRANCISCO.
Fran. Let them first know themselves, and how
you are To be served and honour'd ; which, when they
Mar. With my thanks
Pran. There is nothing
Marc. From you, I take this
Fran. Flattery, madam!
Marc. Whither will this fellow !
Fran. Pardon, therefore, madam,
Marc. You have it in my thanks ;
Fran, Be it death,
Marc. As a subject ;
Fran. Farewell circumstance !
Marc. Keep off. O you Powers !---
(* The real entry is, “1639. March 18. Philip Massinger, stranger"-that is, a non-parishioner ; but it bas hitherto been quoted as Mr. Campbell has quoted it.}
† In The Fair Penitent.
The envy of great fortunes ? Have I graced thee, Upon my weak credulity, tell me, rather,
That the earth moves; the sun and stars stand still; A friend, and not a servant ? and is this,
The ocean keeps nor floods nor ebbs; or that This impudent attempt to taint mine honour, There's
peace between the lion and the lamb; The fair return of both our ventured favours ! Or that the ravenous eagle and the dove Fran. Hear my excuse.
Keep in one aerie, and bring up their young; Marc. The devil may plead mercy,
Or anything that is averse to nature: And with as much assurance, as thou yield ope. And I will sooner credit it, than that Burns lust so hot in thee? or is thy pride
My lord can think of me, but as a jewel, Grown up to such a height, that, but a princess, He loves more than himself, and all the world. No woman can content thee ; and, add to it, Fran. O innocence abused ! simplicity cozen'd! His wife and princess, to whom thou art tied It were a sin, for which we have no name, In all the bonds of duty?—Read my life,
To keep you longer in this wilful error. And find one act of mine so loosely carried,
Read his affection here ;-[Gives her a paper.] That could invite a most self-loving fool,
--and then observe Set off with all that fortune could throw on him, How dear he holds you! 'Tis his character, To the least hope to find way to my favour ; Which cunning yet could never counterfeit. And, what's the worst mine enemies could wish me, Marc. 'Tis his hand, I'm resolved of it. I'll try I'll be thy strumpet.
What the inscription is. Fran. 'Tis acknowledged, madam,
Fran. Pray you, do so. That your whole course of life hath been a pattern Marc. (reads.) You know my pleasure, and the For chaste and virtuous women. In your beauty, hour of Marcelia's death, which fail not to execute, Which I first saw, and loved, as a fair crystal, as you will ansver the contrary, not with your head I read your heavenly mind, clear and untainted ; alone, but with the ruin of your whole family. And And while the duke did prize you to your value,
this, written with mine own hand, and signed with Could it have been in man to pay that duty,
my pridy signet, shall be your sufficient warrant. I well might envy him, but durst not hope
LODOVICO SFORZA. To stop you in your full career of goodness : I do obey it ; every word's a poniard, But now I find that he's fall'n from his fortune, And reaches to my heart.
[She swoons. And, howsoever he would appear doting,
Fran. What have I done! Grown cold in his affection; I presume,
Madam ! for heaven's sake, madam!—0 my fate! From his most barbarous neglect of you,
I'll bend her body : this is, yet, some pleasure : To offer my true service. Nor stand I bound, I'll kiss her into a new life. Dear lady !To look back on the courtesies of him,
She stirs. For the duke's sake, for Sforza's sakeThat, of all living men, is most unthankful.
Marc. Sforza's! stand off ; though dead, I will Marc. Unheard-of impudence!
And even my ashes shall abhor the touch [be his, Fran. You'll say I am modest,
Of any other.-0) unkind, and cruel ! When I have told the story. Can he tax me, Learn, women, learn to trust in one another; That have received some worldly trifles from him, There is no faith in man : Sforza is false, For being ungrateful ; when he, that first tasted, False to Marcelia ! And hath so long enjoy’d, your sweet embraces, Fran. But I am true, In which all blessings that our frail condition And live to make you happy. All the pomp, Is capable of, are wholly comprehended,
State, and observance you had, being his, As cloy'd with happiness, contemns the giver Compared to what you shall enjoy, when mine, Of his felicity! and, as he reach'd not
Shall be no more remember'd. Lose his memory, The masterpiece of mischief which he aims at, And look with cheerful beams on your new creature; Unless he pay those favours he stands bound to, And know, what he hath plotted for your good, With fell and deadly hate!-You think he loves you Fate cannot alter. With unexampled fervour ; nay, dotes on you, Take not his life, at his return he dies, As there were something in you more than woman: And by my hand; my wife, that is his heir, When, on my knowledge, he long since hath wish'd Shall quickly follow :— then we reign alone! You were among the dead ;-and I, you scorn so, For with this arm I'll swim through seas of blood, Perhaps, am your preserver.
Or make a bridge, arch'd with the bones of men, Marc. Bless me, good angels,
But I will grasp my aims in you, my dearest, Or I am blasted! Lies so false and wicked, Dearest, and best of women ! And fashion’d to so damnable a purpose,
Marc. Thou art a villain ! Cannot be spoken by a human tongue.
All attributes of archvillains made into one, My husband hate me! give thyself the lie, Cannot express thee. I prefer the hate False and accursed! Thy soul, if thou hast any, Of Sforza, though it mark me for the grave, Can witness, never lady stood so bound
Before thy base affection. I am yet To the unfeign d affection of her lord,
Pure and unspotted in my true love to him ; As I do to my Sforza. If thou wouldst work Nor shall it be corrupted, though he's tainted :
If the emperor
NG RA, TY
How is my soul divided ! to confirm you
Leost, Sweet, take comfort !
Or I am wretched : All the dangers that
I can encounter in the war, are trifies ; e, My enemies abroad to be contemn'd;
The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me,
Cleo. With me? en,
Leost. Nay, in you,
Cleo. Where !
Leost. There's no perfection
Cleo. This is strange !
Leost. But true, sweet ;
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them me Through hell, and horror, to the Elysian springs ;
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name
Such as the virtues of your mind invite,
I may be tempted ?
I have conversed with you no further
Cleo. And 'twas
Leost. But, Cleora,
FROM THE SAME.
When I am absent, as I must go from you (Such is the cruelty of my fate), and leave you, PISANDER DECLARING HIS PASSION FOR Unguarded, to the violent assaults
CLEORA, IN TILE INSURRECTION OF THE
SLAVES OF SYRACUSE.
Enter PISANDER, speaking, at the door, to the By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests,
Insurgents. Won upon credulous virgins; when nor father
Pisander. He that advances Is here to owe you, brother to advise you.
A foot beyond this, comes upon my sword : Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off,
You have had your waye, disturb not mine.
Timandra. Speak gently,
Obscure my suns of comfort ? and those dainties The judge, before whom you then stood accused,
Of purest white and red, which I take in at I should acquit you.
My greedy eyes, denied my famish'd senses ?Cleo. Will you then confirm
The organs of your hearing yet are open ; That love and jealousy, though of different natures,
And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe Must of necessity be twins ; the younger
To give them warrant to convey unto Created only to defeat the elder,
Your understanding parts, the story of And spoil him of his birthright ? 'tis not well.
A tortured and despairing lover, whom But being to part, I will not chide, I will not ;
Not fortune but affection marks your slave : Nor with one syllable or tear, express
Shake not, best lady! for believe't, you are How deeply I am wounded with the arrows
As far from danger as I am from force : Of your distrust : but when that you shall hear,
All violence I shall offer, tends no further At your return, how I have borne myself,
Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not And what an austere penance I take on me, Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign, To satisfy your doubts ; when, like a vestal,
You show you are pleased to hear me. I show you, to your shame, the fire still burning,
Timand. If you are, Committed to my charge by true affection,
Hold forth your right hand. The people joining with you in the wonder ;
(CLEORA holds forth her right hand. When by the glorious splendour of my sufferings, Pisan. So 'tis done ; and I The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind,
With my glad lips seal humbly on your foot, The monster too that feeds on fears, e'en starved
My soul's thanks for the favour : I forbear For want of seeming matter to accuse me ; To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honours Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof
I made exchange of, to become your servant : From my just anger.
And, though I knew worthy Leosthenes Leost. What will you do?
(For sure he must be worthy, for whose love Cleo. Obey me,
You have endured so much) to be my rival ; Or from this minute you are a stranger to me ; When rage and jealousy counsellid me to kill him, And do't without reply. All-seeing sun,
Which then I could have done with much more ease, Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare speak it, Mine eyes against thy comfortable light,
Love, seconded wité duty, boldly told me Till the return of this distrustful man!
The man I hated, fair Cleora favourd : Now bind them sure ;-nay, do't: [lle binds her And that was his protection.
(CLEORA bous, eyes.] If, uncompellid,
Timand. See, she bows I loose this knot, until the hands that made it Her head in sign of thankfulness. Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues Pisan. He removed by Fall heavy on me! pray you guide me to your lips. The occasion of the war, (my fires increasing This kiss, when you come back, shall be a virgin By being closed and stopp'd up,) frantic affection To bid you welcome ; nay, I have not done yet : Prompted me to do something in his absence, I will continue dumb, and, you once gone, That might deliver you into my power, No accent shall come from me. Now to my Which you see is effected ; and, even now, chamber,
When my rebellious passions chide my dulness, My tomb, if you miscarry : there I'll spend And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes, My hours in silent mourning, and thus much
Now it is in my power to bear you hence, Shall be reported of me to my glory,
[CLEORA starts And you confess it, whether I live or die,
Or take my wishes here, (nay, fear not, madam; My chastity triumphs o'er your jealousy.
True love 's a servant, brutish lust a tyrant,)