Can prescribe man obedience ! Never look upon me more. Bos. Why, fare thee well: Your brother and yourself are worthy men; While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart, To store them with fresh colour. Who's there? Duch. Antonio ! Bos. Yes, madam, he is living: The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues; He's reconciled to your brother; the Pope hath The atonement. Duch. Mercy. [wrought [She dies. Bos. Oh, she's gone again: there the cords of life broke. Oh, sacred innocence ! that sweetly sleeps All our good deeds, and bad; a perspective These tears, I am very certain, never grew Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, I'll bear thee hence, And execute thy last will; that's deliver Thy body to the reverend dispose Of some good women; that the cruel tyrant Shall not deny me: then I'll post to Milan, Where somewhat I will speedily enact Worth my dejection. FROM THE SAME. ACT V. SCENE III. Persons.-ANTONIO, DELIO, Echo from the Duchess's grave. Delio. YOND's the cardinal's window. This fortification Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey ; Antonio. I do love these ancient ruins : We never tread upon them but we set Echo. Like death that we have. Echo. Deadly accent. Del. I told you 'twas a pretty one. Echo. A thing of sorrow. Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice. Del. Come, let's walk farther from't: [men, You may [make it 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. However, fare you well! Though in our miseries Fortune have a part, Yet, in our noble suff'rings, she hath none; Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. JOHN FORD. [Born, 1586. It is painful to find the name of Ford a barren spot in our poetical biography, marked by nothing but a few dates and conjectures, chiefly drawn from his own dedications. He was born of a respectable family in Devonshire; was bred to the law, and entered of the Middle Temple at the age of seventeen. At the age of twenty, he published a poem, entitled Fame's Memorial, in honour of the deceased Earl of Devonshire; and from the dedication of that piece it appears that he chiefly subsisted upon his professional labours, making poetry the solace of his leisure hours. All his plays were published between the year 1629 and 1639; but before the former period he Died, 1640?] had for some time been known as a dramatic writer, his works having been printed a considerable time after their appearance on the stage ; and, according to the custom of the age, had been associated in several works with other composers. With Dekker he joined in dramatizing a story, which reflects more disgrace upon the age than all its genius could redeem; namely, the fate of Mother Sawyer, the Witch of Edmonton, an aged woman, who had been recently the victim of legal and superstitious murder-- Nil adeo fœdum quod non exacta vetustas The time of his death is unknown. FROM "THE LOVER'S MELANCHOLY *." ACT IV. SCENE III. Palador, Prince of Cyprus, having fallen into melancholy from the disappointment of losing Eroclea, to whom he was attached, a masque is prepared to divert his thoughts, at the representation of which he sees a youth, passing by the name of Parthenophill, whose resemblance to his mistress strikes him. SCENE-A Room at the Palace. Persons-PALADOR, Prince of Cyprus; ARETUS, his tutor; SOPHRONOS, uncle to EROCLEA; PELIAS, a courtier; MENAPHON, Son of SOPHRONOS; AMETHUS, cousin to the Prince; RHETIAS, servant to EROCLEA. Pal. Good sir! 'tis not your active wit or language, * I have declined obtruding on the reader some passages in Ford's plays which possess a superior power to the present scene, because they have been anticipated by Mr. Lamb in his Dramatic Specimens. Even if this had not been the case, I should have felt reluctant to give a place to one dreadfully beautiful specimen of his affecting powers, in the tragedy of the Brother and Sister. Better that poetry should cease, than have to do with such subjects. The Lover's Melancholy has much of the grace and sweetness that distinguishes the genius of Ford. ["Mr. Campbell speaks favourably of the poetic portion of this play; he thinks and I fully agree with him, that it has much of the grace and sweetness which distinguish the genius of Ford. It has also somewhat more of the sprightliness in the language of the secondary characters, than is commonly found in his plays."-GIFFORD.] Where thou didst first encounter this fantastic, In sight! Get ye all from me! He that stays Amet. Are. and Soph. "Tis strange. We must obey. My credulous sense: the very soul of reason Enter RHETIAS. Rhetias, thou art acquainted with my griefs; Rhe. I have been diligent, sir, to pry into every corner for discovery, but cannot meet with him. There is some trick, I am confident. Pal. There is, there is some practice, slight, or plot. Rhe. I have apprehended a fair wench, in an odd private lodging in the city, as like the youth in face as can by possibility be discerned. Pal. How, Rhetias ? Rhe. If it be not Parthenophill in long coats, 'tis a spirit in his likeness; answer I can get none from her you shall see her. Pal. The young man in disguise, upon my life, To steal out of the land. Rhe. I'll send him to you. [Exit RHETIAS. Enter behind EROCLEA (PARTHENOPHILL) in female attire. Stand up! [Kneels. Pal. Ero. I am so worn away with fears and sorrows, Pal. Some bolder act of treachery, by cutting Ero. The incense of my love-desires is flamed Pal. My scorn, disdainful boy, shall soon unweave And so I may be gentle as thou art, Pal. Do, do, my Rhetias. As there is by nature, Before we part (for part we must), be true; In everything created, contrariety: So likewise is there unity and league SCENE FROM THE COMEDY OF "A NEW WONDER, OR A WOMAN NEVER VEXT." Persons.-The WIDOW and DOCTOR. Doct. You sent for me, gentlewoman? Wid. Sir, I did; and to this end: I have scruples in my conscience; I can appprove it good: guess at mine age. Doct. At the half-way 'twixt thirty and forty. Wid. 'Twas not much amiss; yet nearest to the How think you then, is not this a wonder? [last. That a woman lives full seven-and-thirty years Maid to a wife, and wife unto a widow, Now widow'd, and mine own, yet all this while From the extremest verge of my remembrance, [* Prince Charles, afterwards Charles I. The play in Even from my weaning hour unto this minute, I know not yet what grief is, yet have sought That even those things that I have meant a cross, Wid. Ay, sir, 'tis wonderful: but is it well? For it is now my chief affliction. I have heard you say, that the child of heaven Shall suffer many tribulations; [jects: which his name is printed conjointly with Shakspeare's is Nay, kings and princes share them with their sub called The Birth of Merlin.] Then I that know not any chastisement, [from To drop that wedlock ring from off my finger, Doct. This is but small. Wid. Nay, sure I am of this opinion, That had I suffer'd a draught to be made for it, Doct. You would not suffer it? STEPHEN, A RECLAIMED GAMESTER, NEWLY MARRIED TO THE OVER-FORTUNATE WIDOW. Persons-STEPHEN, ROBERT his nephew, and WIDOW. Enter STEPHEN with bills and bonds. Wife. How now, sweetheart? what hast thou there? Steph. I find much debts belonging to you, sweet; And my care must be now to fetch them in. Wife. Ha! ha! prithee do not mistake thyself, Nor my true purpose; I did not wed to thrall, Or bind thy large expense, but rather to add A plenty to that liberty; I thought by this, Thou wouldst have stuff'd thy pockets full of gold, And thrown it at a hazard; made ducks and drakes, And baited fishes with thy silver flies; Why, this had been a blessing too good for me. I have forgot that e'er I had such follies, Enter ROBERT. Steph. Oh, nephew, are you come! the welcomest wish That my heart has; this is my kinsman, sweet. [love, Steph. I should have begg'd that bounty of your Though you had scanted me to have given't him; For we are one, I an uncle nephew, He a nephew uncle. But, my sweet self, My slow request you have anticipated With proffer'd kindness; and I thank you for it. But how, kind cousin, does your father use you? Is your name found again within his books? Can he read son there? Rob. "Tis now blotted quite : For by the violent instigation Of my cruel step-mother, his vows and oaths But in his brow, his bounty and behaviour [at home, Steph. Cousin, grieve not at it; that father lost You shall find here; and with the loss of his inheYou meet another amply proffer'd you ; [ritance, 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; Rob. You were born to bless us both; [thee Steph. Come then, my dearest son, I'll now give A taste of my love to thee: be thou my deputy, The factor and disposer of my business; |