Imatges de pÓgina

While victory with little loss doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French;
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'dy
To enter conquerors.

By the English.
Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells,
King John, your king, and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot, malicious diy:
Their armours that march'd hence, fo filver bright,
Hither return all gilt in Frenchmens' blood;
There stuck no plume in any English creit,
That is removed by a staff of France.
Our colours do return in those fame hands
That did display them when we first march'd forth;
And like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purple hands,
Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.

SCENE V. A compleat Lady.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where shou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where shou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If love, ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?
SCENE VI. On Commodity, or Self-Intereft.

Rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the

of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that ;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling coipmodity,
Commodity, the biass of the world,
The world, which of itself is poised well,
Made to run even upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing biass,


This fway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent,
And this fame biass, &c.

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Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick and capable of fears :
Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of tears ;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ;
A woman, naturally born to fears :
And tho’thou now confess thou didít but jest,

my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all the day.

Tokens of Grief. (5) What doft thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,


(5) Whai, &c.] So Seneca in his Oedipus, says,

Effari dubitas ? cur genas mulat color?

Quid verba quæris?
And in his Agamemnon,

Quid tacita verfas,
Licet ipsa sileas, totus in vuku dolor ofl.
Why dost thou fear to speak ?' Why on thy cheeks
Does thus thy colour come and go? And wherefore

Art thou thus at a loss to speak thy purpose ?-

What secret forrows roll within thy breast,
Thus flent i-- All thy looks bespeak afflictiosto

Like a proud river peering o'er its bounds ?
Be these fad fighs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again, not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

A Mother's Fondnefs for a beautiful Child. (6) If thou, that bid'at me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and Nand'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots, and fightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks ; I would not care, I then would be content : For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou Become thy gresit birth, nor deserve a crown.


(6) If thou, &c.] So in the Unnatural Combat of Meffinger, the father, who was struggling with the violent and shocking passion he had conceived for his daughter, observes,

-If thou hadst been born
Deform'd and crooked in the features of
Thy body, as the manners of thy mind,
Moor-lip'd, Aat-nos'd, dim-ey'd and beetle-brow'd,
With a dwarf's stature to a giant's waist :
Sour breath’d, with claws for fingers on thy hands,
Splay-footed, gouty-legg'd, and over all
A loathsome leprosy had spread itself,
And made thee Thun’d of human fellowships,
I had been bleft-
Rather than as now,
(Tho' I had drown'd thee for it in the sea)
Appearing as thou dost a new Pandora,
With Juno's fair cow eyes, Minerva's brow,
siurora's blushing cheeks, Hebe's fresh youth,
Venus soft paps, and Thetis filver feet.

Act. 4. S. 1.

The last lines of Malfinger are an immediate translation from a pretty Greek epigram, the author of which compares his mistress's eyes to Juno's, her paps to Venus', &c.

Oμματεχεις Ηρης, Μελιτη, τας χειρας Αθηνης,

Tες μαζες Παφνης, τα οφυρα της Θετιδος, &c.

But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy!.
(7) Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great.
Of nature's gifts thou may'lt with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose.


I will instruct my forrows to be proud ;
For grief is proud, and inakes the owner stout.

SCENE II. Conftance to Austria.

O Lymoges, O Auftria! thou doft shame
That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou cow-

Thou little valiant, great in villainy!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ;
Thou fortune's champion, that durst never fight,
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,
And footh'd up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool, to brag, to stamp and fwear,
Upon my party ; thou cold-blooded flave,
Haft thou not spoke like thunder on my fide ?
Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy Itrength?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calve's skin on those recreant limbs.


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(7) Nature, &c.] In the Philoetetes of Sophocles, it is fate

Αλλ' ευγενης γαρ η φυσις, κα'ξ ευγενων

1 Tixyov, nogama
Noble thy nature, as thy birth, my son,

SCENE V. The Horrors of a Conspiracy.
(8) I had a thing to fay,-but, let it go :
The sun is in the heav'n, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me audience. If the midnight-bell,
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;


(8) I had, &c.] The Reader cannot but be struck with the peculiar excellencies of this speech: we see into the very workings of King John's troubled soul, while he is wishing yet afraid to disclose his bloody purpose to Hubert; and how finely does the author describe the situation the mind should be in to hear and embrace fuch a proposal, the place fittest to disclose it in, the time most suitable to pour it into the bofom of the hearer. See Julius Cæfar. Shakespear, when he would express the most dreadful time of night, always speaks of the hours of twelve or one; for that, in the vulgar opinion, was the peculiar time of ghosts and spirits. In Midfimner Night's Dream, he says,

The iron tongue of midnight'hath told twelve. And the ghoft in Hamlet just then stalks forth, when Bernardo giving an account of it comes to

The bell then beating one,
A most beautiful break, and finely imagin’d,

The king, in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and no King, is alike troubled and fearful to disclose liis intentions. Mardonius says of him,

He has follow'd me
Thiro' twenty rooms, and ever when I stay
To wait's command, he blushes like a girl,
And looks upon me as if modesty
Kept in his business : so turns away from me:

But if I go on, he follows me again.
And the king says of himseli.

I cannot uiter it; why should I keep
A breast to harbour thoughts I dare not fpeak ?
Darkness is in my bosom, and there lie
A thousand thoughts that cannot brook the light :
How wilt thou vex me, when this deed is done,
Conscience that art afraid to let me name it?

AEt 3.

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