Are any women constant in their vows?

Can they continue a whole month, a week,

And never change their faith? Oh! if they could,

They would be excellent things! nay, ne'er dissemble;
Are not their lusts unruly, and to them

Such tyrants as their beauties are to us?

Are their tears true, and solid when they weep?

Aur. Sure, Mr. Truman, you ha'nt slept of late. If we should be married to-night, what would you do for sleep?

Trum. jun. Why, do not married people sleep o' nights?

Aur. Yes! yes! Alas, good Innocence!

Trum. jun. They have a scurvy life on't, if they don't;

But we 'll not live as other people do,

We'll find out some new handsome way of love,
Some way of love that few shall imitate,
Yet all admire; for 'tis a sordid thing,
That lust should dare t' insinuate itself
Into the marriage-bed; we'll get no children,
The worst of men and women can do that;
Besides, too, if our issue should be female,
They would all learn to flatter and dissemble,
They would deceive with promises and vows

Some simple men, and then prove false, and kill 'em.

Would they not do 't, Aurelia?

Aur. Ay, any thing, Mr. Truman; but what shall we do, sir,

when we 're married, pray?

Trum. jun. Why! we 'll live very lovingly together,

Sometimes we'll sit and talk of excellent things,

And laugh at the nonsense of the world;

Sometimes we'll walk together;

Sometimes we'll read, and sometimes eat, and sometimes sleep,

And sometimes pray; and then at last we'll die,

And go to heav'n together; 'twill be rare!

Aur. We may do all this (methinks) and never marry for the

matter.

Trum. jun. 'Tis true, we may so!

But since our parents are resolved upon it,

In such a circumstance let 'em have their humour.

My father sent me in to compliment,

And keep a prating here, and play the fool;

I cannot do 't; what should I say, Aurelia?

What do they use to say?

Aur. I believe you knew, sir, when you woo'd my cousin. Trum. jun. Ay, but those days are past; they 're gone for ever,

And nothing else but nights are to succeed 'em;

Gone like the faith and truth of womankind,

And never to be seen again! Oh, Lucia!

Thou wast a wondrous angel in those days

Of thy blest state of innocence !

There was a cheek! a forehead! and an eye!-
Did you observe her eye, Aurelia?

VOL. I.-PART III.

C C

Aur. Oh yes, sir! there were pretty babies in 't.
Trum. jun. It was as glorious as the eye of heav'n;
Like the soul's eye, it pierced through every thing;
And then her hands-her hands of liquid ivory!
Did she but touch her lute (the pleasing'st harmony
Then upon earth, when she herself was silent)
The subtile motion of her flying fingers

Taught music a new art, to take the sight, as well as ear.

Aur. Ay, sir, ay! you'd best go look her out, and marry her; she has but one husband yet.

Trum. jun. Nay, pr'ythee, good Aurelia, be not angry;

For I will never love, or see her more.

I do not say she was more fair than thou art;

Yet if I did-No, but I wo' not say so;

Only allow me this one short last remembrance of one I loved so long. And, now I think on 't, I'll beg a favour of you: you will laugh at me, I know, when you have heard it; but pr'ythee grant it; 'tis that you would be veiled, as Lucia was of late, for this one day; I would fain marry thee so;

'Tis an odd foolish fancy, I confess.

But love and grief may be allow'd sometimes

A little innocent folly.

Aur. Good! this fool will help me, I see, to cheat himself; At a dead lift, a little hint will serve me.

I'll do 't for him to the life."

We cannot resist our desire to give one more extract from the more comic portion of the play. Cutter having, by means of pretended visions, persuaded the confiding Tabitha to marry him, re-assumes his former character, to the amazement of his spouse. Cutter in his turn converts the precise puritan into a jovial companion. The scene which describes the process by which the phenomenon is effected is written with great spirit. "Enter CUTTER, TABITHA, and Boy.

"Cut. Come to my bed, my dear, my dear,

My dear, come to my bed;

For the pleasant pain, and the loss with gain,

Is the loss of a maidenhead.

For the pleasant, &c.

Tab. Is that a psalm, brother husband, which you sing?
Cut. No, sister wife, a short ejaculation only.

[Sings.

[Boy brings a hat and feather, sword and belt, broad laced band and peruke.

Well said, boy, bring in the things

Tab. What do you mean, brother Abednego? You will not turn cavalier, I hope, again? you will not open before Sion, in the dressings of Babylon?

Cut. What! do these cloaths befit Queen Tabitha's husband upon her day of nuptials? This hat, with a high black chimney for a crown, and a brim no broader than a hat-band? Shall I, who am to

ride the purple dromedary, go dressed like Revelation Fats, the basket-maker? Give me the peruke, boy; shall Empress Tabitha's husband go as if his head were scalded? or wear the seam of a shirt here for a band? Shall I, who am zealous even to slaying, walk in the streets without a sword, and not dare to thrust men from the wall, if any shall presume to take 't of Empress Tabitha? Are the fidlers come, boy?

Tab. Pish! I cannot abide these doings; are you mad? There come no profane fidlers here.

Cut. Be peaceable, gentle Tabitha; they will not bring the organs with them hither; I say be peaceable, and conform to revelations; it was the vision bid me do this; wilt thou resist the vision?

Tab. An' these be your visions! Little did I think, I wusse-O what shall I do? Is this your conversion? Which of all the prophets wore such a mop without their ears, or such a sheet about their necks? Oh, my mother! What shall I do? I'm undone.

Cut. What shalt thou do? Why, thou shalt dance, and sing, and drink, and be merry; thou shalt go with thy hair curled, and thy breasts open; thou shalt wear fine black stars upon thy face, and bobs in thy ears bigger than bouncing pears. Nay, if thou dost begin to look rustily-I'll ha' thee paint thyself, like the whore of Babylon. Tab. Oh! that ever I was born to see this day!

Cut. What, dost thou weep, Queen Dido? Thou shalt ha' sack to drive away thy sorrows: bring the bottle, boy! I'll be a loving husband; the vision must be obeyed. Sing, Tabitha; weep o' thy wedding-day! "Tis ominous.

Come to my bed, my dear, &c.

Oh, art thou come, boy? Fill a brimmer, nay fuller yet, yet a little fuller; here, lady spouse, here's to our sport at night.

Tab. Drink it yourself, an' you will; I'll not touch it, not I. Cut. By this hand, thou shalt pledge me, seeing the vision said so! drink, or I'll take a coach, and carry thee to the opera immediately. Tab. O lord! I can't abide it. [Drinks off.

Cut. Why, this will chear thy heart; sack, and a husband? both comfortable things. Have at you again. Tab. I'll pledge you no more, not I.

Cut. Here, take the glass, and take it off-off, every drop, or I'll swear a hundred oaths in a breathing time.

Tab. Well! you 're the strangest man-

[Drinks.

Cut. Why, this is right; nay, off with 't; so-but the vision said, that if we left our drink behind us, we should be hanged, as many other honest men ha' been only by a little negligence in the like case: here's to you, Tabitha, once again; we must fulfil the vision to a tittle.

Tab. What, must I drink again? well! you are such another -brother husband. [Drinks.

Cut. Bravely done, Tabitha! Now thou obey'st the vision, thou wilt ha' revelations presently.

Tab. Oh Lord! my head's giddy-nay, brother husband, the boy's taking away the bottle, and there's another glass or two in it still.

Cut. O villanous boy!

last drop.

Fill out, you bastard, and squeeze out the

Tab. I'll drink to you now, my dear; 'tis not handsome for you to begin always. [Drinks.] Come to my bed, my dear, and how was't? "Twas a pretty song, methoughts.

Cut. O divine Tabitha! Here come the fidlers too; strike up, ye rogues!

Tab. What, must we dance too? Is that the fashion? I could ha' danced the curranto when I was a girl; the curranto's a curious dance.

Cut. We'll out-dance the dancing disease; but, Tabitha, there's one poor health left still to be drunk with music.

Tab. Let me begin 't: here, duck, here's to all that love us.

[Drinks. Cut. A health, ye eternal scrapers, sound a health! rarely done, Tabitha! what think'st thou now o' thy mother?

Tab. A fig for my mother! I'll be a mother myself shortly: come, duckling, shall we go home?

Cut. Go home? The bridegroom and his spouse go home? No, we'll dance home; afore us, squeakers, that way and be hanged, you sempiternal rakers! O brave Queen Tabitha! Excellent Empress Tabitha! On, ye rogues! [Exeunt."

Of Cowley's Latin play a brief notice will be found in one of our former numbers; and of his Latin poem on Plants, in six books, with the composition of which he occupied himself when he came over to England for the purposes of his party, we do not intend in the present article to enter into an examination. It is not contained in the folio edition of his works, but in its stead we have a translation of it by Nathan Tate, Mrs. Aphra Behn, &c.

We have occupied so much space with Cowley's poetical works, that we must reluctantly waive the consideration of his prose, the most agreeable and most valuable of his compositions. We are the less reluctant to do this, as they are rather better known than his poems. Nothing can be more opposite, both in thought and style, than the poetical and prose works of this author. In the latter we find nothing mean or affectedly vulgar either in thought or language; both flow in a clear and equable stream: wit sparkles not along the surface, and strange phantasms flit not along its bank. We have in their stead simplicity, elegance, and propriety: and the admixture of individual feeling in the Essays throws a charm over them which is not possessed by any other compositions of the same class in the language.

The Progresses, Processions, and magnificent Festivities of King James the First, his Royal Consort, Family, and Court, comprising Forty Masques and Entertainments, Ten Civic Pageants, numerous Original Letters, &c. By John Nichols, F. S. A. Lond. Edin. Perth. 4 vols. 4to.

THE title-page of this work conveys a very imperfect idea of its contents; for, instead of its being a mere account of the progresses, and of the festivities produced for the amusement, of James the First, it is in fact the domestic history of his reign. But its venerable editor has wisely refrained from assuming the powers of the historian; and the narrative is formed of the statements of contemporary writers, with the exception of a few connecting paragraphs: hence it is chiefly a compilation of the gossip of the period, conveyed, in most cases, in letters from one individual to another, or preserved in the autobiography of a few of the dependants of James's court. That such a work must be eminently amusing is unquestionable; and had Mr. Nichols's labours been somewhat differently modelled, and not a little compressed, they would have been as popular as they deserve. The form of a chronicle, or rather of a journal, has, however, been too closely adhered to; for an interesting narration is often interrupted to notice that a man had been knighted, or some other equally frivolous event. Indeed, the eternal allusion to creations of honour is alone sufficient to disgust ordinary readers, whilst, to the few who care about them, these statements would have been much more useful if they had been thrown together at the end with the biographical notes appended to them, instead of their encumbering the text. The research and tact which have been displayed in procuring and in dove-tailing the discordant materials have seldom been equalled, and it would be difficult to name a compilation that will better repay perusal; though its chief value is as a book of reference for every person and circumstance connected with that reign. "The Progresses of James the First" consequently merit the particular attention of the historian, the antiquary, and the biographer; and they possess irresistible claims upon the admirers of such trash as the greater part of the masques which were exhibited on different occasions in that period. Of the latter, the title-page informs, no less than fifty are here reprinted; but excepting those by Ben Jonson, which are included in his works, we fear it is only by candidates for the Roxburgh Club that they will be cared for.

Though innumerable letters are introduced, those from Mr. Chamberlain are almost the only ones which have not been previously printed; consequently, wherever we turn for extracts by which to enable our readers to judge of the work, we are at