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Not to confron soine living the been kill'd ?

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And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants, Mar. He thinks he has good cards for her, and likes To stile us at home and show abroad,

His game well. More motley than the French or the Venctian,

Bos. Be an understanding knight, About your coach, whose rude postilion

And take my meaning ; if he cannot show
Must pester every narrow lanc, till passengers

As much in heraldry-
Ind tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls, Mar. I do not know how rich he is in fields,
And cominon cries pursue your ladyship

But he is a gentleman.
For hind’ring o'the market.

Bos. Is he a branch of the nobility? Aret. Have you done, sir?

How many lords can he call cousin -else Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe He must be taught to know he has presumed And prodigal embroideries, under which

To stand in competition with ine. Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare

Mar. You will not kill him? Not show their own complexions. Your jewels,

Bos. You shall pardon me; Able to burn out the spectator's eyes,

I have that within me must not be prorok'd;
And show like bonfires on you by the tapers.

There be some living now that have been kill'd
Something might here be spared, with safety of For lesser inatters.
Your birth and honour, sizice the truest wealth

Mar. Some living that have been kill'd!
Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers. Bos. I mean soine living that have seen examples,
I could urge something more.

Not to confront nobility ; and I Aret. Pray do ; I like

Am sensible of my honour. Your homily of thrift.

Mar. His name is Born. I could wish, madam,

Sir Ainbrose. You would not game so much.

Bos. Lamount; a knight of yesterday, Arct. A gamester too!

And he shall die to-morrow; name another. Born, But are not come to that repentance yet Mar. Not so fast, sir; you must take some breath. ! Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit; Bos. I care no inore for killing half a dozen You look not through the subtlety of cards

Knights of the lower house-I mean that are not And mysteries of dice, nor can you save

Descended from nobility-than I do Charge with the box, buv petticoats and pearls; To kick any footman; an Sir Ambrose were Nor do I wish you shoulil. My poorest servant Knight of the Sun, king Oberon should not sare him, Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire,

Nor his queen Mab.
Purchas'd beneath my honour. You inay play,

Not a pastime, but a tyranny, and vex
Yourself and my estate by 't.

Mar. Unluckily he's here, sir.
Aret. Good-proceed.

Bos. Sir Ambrose, Born. Another game you have, which consunes more

How does thy knighthood ! ha! Your fame than purse ; your revels in the night,

Amb. My nymph of honour, well; I joy to see thee. Your meetings called the ball, to which appear,

Bos. Sir Marmaduke tells me thou art suitor to As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants

Lady Lucina. And ladies, thither bound by a subpana

Amb. I have ambition Of Venus and small Cupid's high displeasure ;

To be her servant. "Tis but the family of love translated

Bos. Hast ? thou'rt a brave knight, and I commend Into more costly sin. There was a play on 't,

Thy judgment. Ind had the poet not been brib'd to a modest

Amb. Sir Marmaduke himself leans that way too. Expression of your antic gambols in 't,

Bos. Why didst conceal it? Come, the inore the Some darks had been discover'd, and the deeds too;

merrier. Iu time he may repent, and make some blush

But I could never see you there. To see the second part danc'd on the stage.

Mar. I hope, My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me

Sir, we may live. By any foul act, but the virtuous know

Bos. I'll tell you, gentlernen, 'Tis not enough to clear ourselves, but the

Cupid has given us all one livery ; Suspicions of our shame.

I serve that lady too ; you understand me! Aret. Have you concluded

But who shall carry her, the fates determine; Your lecture?

I could be knighted too. Born. I have done ; and howsoever

Amb. That would be no addition to My language may appear to you, it carries

Your blood. No other than my fair and just intent

Bos. I think it would not ; 80 my lord told me; To your delights, without curb to their inodest

Thou know'st my lord, not the earl, my other And noble freedom.

Cousin ? there's a spark his predecessors

Jlave match'd into the blood ; you understand In the ‘Ball,' a comedy partly by Chapman, but He put me upon this lady ; I proclaim chiefly by Shirley, a coxcomb (Bostock), crazed on No hopes ; pray let's together, gentlemen ; the point of family, is shown up in the most admir If she be wise — I say no more ; she shall not able manner. Sir Marmaduke Travers, by way of Cost me a sigh, nor shall her love engage mc fooling him, tells him that he is rivalled in his suit To draw a sword; I have vow'd that. of a particular lady by Sir Ambrose Lamount.

Mar. You did but jest before.

Amb. 'Twere pity that one drop [Scene from the Ball.]

Of your heroic blood should fall to th' ground:

Who knows but all your cousin lords may die.
Bostock and Sir MARMADUKE.

Mar. As I believe them not iininortal, sir.
Bos. Does she love any body else?

Amb. Then you are gulf of honour, swallow all, Mar. I know not,

May marry some queen yourself, and get princes But she has half a score upon my knowledge,

To furnish the barren parts of Christendom. Are suitors for her favour.

There was a long cessation of the regular drama Pos. Name but one,

In 1642, the nation was convulsed with the elements And if he cannot show as many coats

of discord, and in the same month that the sword

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was drawn, the theatres were closed. On the 2d of September, the Long Parliament issued an ordinance, * suppressing public stage plays throughout the kingi dom during these calamitous times.' An infraction of this ordinance took place in 1644, when some players were apprehended for performing Beaumont and Fletcher's King and no King'-an ominous title for a drama at that period. Another ordinance was issued in 1647, and a third in the following year, when the House of Commons appointed a provost marshall, for the purpose of suppressing plays and seizing ballad singers. Parties of strolling actors occasionally performed in the country; but there was no regular theatrical performances in London, till Davenant brought out his opera, the Siege of Rhodes, in the year 1656. Two years afterwards, he removed to the Cockpit Theatre, Drury Lane, where he performed until the eve of the Restoration. A strong partiality for the drama existed in the nation, which all the storms of the civil war, and the zeal of the Puritans, had not been able to crush or subdue.

No princely port, nor wealthy store,

Nor force to win a victory ;
No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall,
For why, my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeits oft,

And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft,

Mishap doth threaten most of all; These get with toil, and keep with fear: Such cares my mind can never bear. I press to bear no haughty sway;

I wish no more than may suffice; I do no more than well I may,

Look what I want, my mind supplies ; Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind's content with anything. I laugh not at another's loss,

Nor grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;

I brook that is another's bane;
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health and perfect ease,

And conscience clear my chief defence ; I never seek by bribes to please,

Nor by desert to give offence; Thus do I live, thus will I die; Would all do so as well as I !


[Conririal Song, by Bishop Still.] [From the play of “Gammer Gurton's Needle,' about 1565.] I cannot eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good ;
But sure I think that I can drink

With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,

I nothing am a-cold ;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;

Both foot and hand go cold ;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,

And a crab laid in the fire ;
And little bread shall do me stead;

Much bread I nought desire.
No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow,

Can hurt me if I wold,
I am so wrapp'd, and thoroughly lapp'd,
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side, &c.
And Tib, my wife, that as her life

Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see

The tears run down her cheek :
Then doth she troul to me the bowl,

Even as a maltworm should,
And saith, 'Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.?

Back and side, &c.
Now let them drink till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do ;
They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls,

Or have them lustily troul'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.

Back and side. &c.


[From the same.] What pleasure have great princes

More dainty to their choice Than herdsmen wild, who careless

In quiet life rejoice:
And Fortune's fate not fearing,
Sing sweet in summer morning.
Their dealings plain and rightful,

Are void of all deceit ;
They never know how spiteful

It is to feel and wait
On favourite presumptuous,
Whose pride is vain and sumptuous.
All day their flocks each tendeth,

All night they take their rest,
More quiet than who sendeth

His ship into the East,
Where gold and pearl are plenty,
But getting very dainty.
For lawyers and their pleading

They esteem it not a straw;
They think that honest meaning

Is of itself a law; Where Conscience judgeth plainly, They spend no money vainly. O happy who thus liveth,

Not caring much for gold, With clothing which sufficeth

To keep him from the cold : Though poor and plain his diet, Yet merry it is and quiet.

My Mind to me a Kingdom is. [From Byrd's • Psalıns, Sonnets,' &c. 1588.) My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such perfect joy therein I find, That it excels all other bliss

That God or nature hath assign'd: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

Meditation when we go to Bed. (From the • Handful of Honeysuckles.' By William

Hunnis: 1585.]
O Lord my God, I wandered have

As one that runs astray,
And have in thought, in word, and deed,
In idleness and play,

Offended sore thy Majesty,

And then, as thou receivest, resign to her my throne. In heaping sin to sin,

A promise had for this bequest, the testator he dies, And yet thy mercy hath me spar'd,

But all that Edell undertook he afterward denies. So gracious hast thou been !

Yet well he fosters for a time the damsel, that was O Lord, my faults I now confess,

grown And sorry am therefor;

The fairest lady under heaven ; whose beauty being But not so much as fain I would :

known, O Lord, what wilt thou more!

Amany princes seek her love, but none might her obtain, It is thy grace must bring that spirit

ForGrippel Edell to himselfher kingdom sought to gain; For which I humbly pray,

By chance one Curan, son unto a prince in Danske, did And that this night thou me defend,

see As thou hast done this day.

The maid, with whom he fell in love, as much as one And grant, when these mine eyes and tongue

might be. Shall fail through Nature's might,

Unhappy youth! what should he do! his saint was That then the powers of my poor soul

kept in mew, May praise thee day and night.

Nor he, nor any noble man admitted to her view.

One while in melancholy fits he pines himself away; Meditation.

Anon he thought by force of arms to win her if he may. Il

And still against the king's restraint did secretly in[Froni the Poor Widow's Mite.' By William Hunnis: 1585.]

veigh. Thou, God, that rul'st and reign'st in light, At length the high controller, Lore, whom none may That flesh cannot attain ;

disobey, Thou, God, that know'st the thoughts of men

Imbased him from lordliness unto a kitchen drudge, Are altogether vain ;

| That so, at least, of life or death she might become bis Thou, God, whom neither tongue of man

judge. Nor angel can express;

Access so had to see, and speak, he did his love betray, Thou, God, it is that I do seek,

And tells his birth : her answer was, she husbandless Thou pity my distress!

would stay. Thy seat, o God, is everywhere,

Meanwhile, the king did beat his brains, his booty to i Thy power all powers transcend ;

achieve, Thy wisdom cannot measured be,

Not caring what became of her, so heby her might thrive: For that it hath no end !

At last his resolution was, some peasant should her wire. Thou art the power and wisdom too,

And, which was working to his wish, he did observe And sole felicity;

with joy But I a lump of sinful flesh,

How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, scapt many an! Nurse of iniquity.

amorous toy. Thou art by nature merciful,

The king, perceiring such his vein, promotes his vassa) And Mercy is thy name ;

still, And I by nature miserable,

Lest that the baseness of the man should let, perhaps, The thrall of sin and shame :

his will. Then let thy nature, O good God !

Assured therefore of his love, but not suspecting who Now work this force in me;

The lover was, the king himself in his behalf did woo. And cleanse the nature of my sin,

The lady, resolute from love, unkindly takes that he And heal my misery

Should bar the noble, and unto so base a match agree; One depth, good Lord, another craves ;

And therefore, shifting out of doors, departed thence by My depth of sinful crime

stealth, Requires the depth of mercy great,

Preferring poverty before a dangerous life in wealth. For saving health in time.

When Curan heard of her escape, the anguish in his Sweet Christ, grant that thy depth of grace

heart May swallow up my sin ;

Was more than much; and after her from court he did il That I thereby may whiter be,

depart: Than eren snow hath been.

Forgetful of himself, his birth, his country, friends, and Tale of Argentile and Curan.

And only minding whom he mist-the foundress of his

thrall! From a poetical epitome of English history, entitled Albion's Normeans he after to frequent, or court, or stately towns, England, published in 156, the composition of William Warner.

But solitari an attorney of the Common Pleas, who died at a ripe age in

in A brace of years he lived thus ; well-pleased so to live; 1609.)

And shepherd-like to feed a flock, himself did wholly The Brutons thus departed hence, seven kingdoms here give, begone,

So wasting, love, by work and want, grew almost to the Where diversely in diverse broils the Saxons lost and wane : won.

But then began a second love, the worser of the twain! King Edell and King Adelbright in Divia jointly reign: A country wench, a neatherd's maid, where Curan In loyal concord during life these kingly friends remain. kept his sheep, When Adelbright should leave his life, to Edell thus Did feed her drove; and now on her was all the shephe says:

herd's keep. By those same bonds of happy lore, that held us friends He borrow'd, on the working days, his holly ruffets oft always,

And of the bacon's fat, to make his startups black and By our byparted crown, of which the moiety is mine, soft : By God, to whom iny soul must pass, and so in time And lest his tar-box should offend, he left it at the fold; may thine,

Sweet growt or whig, his bottle had as much as it I pray thee, nay, conjure thee, too, to nourish as thine would hold ; own

A sheave of bread as brown as nut, and cheese as white Thy niece, my daughter Argentile, till she to age be as snow, grown,

| And wildings, or the season's fruit, he did in scrip bestof :



And whilst his piebald cur did sleep, and sheep-hook Her stature comely tall, her gait well graced, and her lay him by,

wit On hollow quills of oaten straw be piped melody. To marvel at, not meddle with, as matchless, I omit. But when he spied her, his saint, he wip'd his greasy A globe-like head, a gold-like hair, a forehead smooth shoes,

and high, And cleard the drive from his beard, and thus the An even nose, on either side stood out a grayish eye: shepherd woos :

Two rosy cheeks, round ruddy lips, with just set teeth 'I have, sweet wench, a piece of cheese, as good as within, tooth may chaw,

A mouth in mean, and underneath a round and And bread, and wildings, souling well ;' and there- dimpled chin. withal did draw

| Her snowy neck, with bluish veins, stood bolt upright lis lardry; and, in eating, “See yon crumpled ewe,' upon quoth he,

Her portly shoulders ; beating balls, her veined breasts, “Did twin this fall ; faith thou art too elvish, and too anon, cov;

Add more to beauty ; wand-like was her middle, | Am I, I pray thee, beggarly, that such a flock enjoy ? falling still

I wis I am not ; yet that thou dost hold me in disdain And more, her long and limber arms had white and Is brim abroad, and made a gibe to all that keep this azure wrists, plain.

And slender fingers answer to her smooth and lily fists ! There be as quaint, at least that think themselves as | A leg in print, and pretty foot; her tongue of speech quaint, that crave

was spare ; The match which thou (I wot not why) may'st, but But speaking, Venus seem'd to speak, the ball from mislik'st to have.

Ide to bear ! How would'st thou match ? (for well I wot, thou art With Pallas, Juno, and with both, herself contends in a female) ; I,

face ; I know not her, that willingly, in maidenhood would Where equal mixture did not want of mild and stately die.

grace : The ploughman's labour hath no end, and he a churl Her smiles were sober, and her looks were cheerful will prove;

unto all, 11 The craftsman hath more work in hand than fitteth And such as neither wanton seem, nor wayward ; li on to love;

mell, nor gall. The merchant, trafficking abroad, suspects his wife at A quiet mind, a patient mood, and not disdaining any; home;

Not gibing, gadding, gawdy; and her faculties were A youth will play the wanton, and an old man prove many. a mome;

A nymph, no tongue, no heart, no eye, might praise, Then choose a shepherd; with the sun he doth his might wish, might see, flock unfold,

For life, for love, for form, more good, more worth, And all the day on hill or plain he merry chat can more fair than she ! hold:

| Yet such an one, as such was none, save only she was And with the sun doth fold again : then jogging home such : betime,

Of Argentile, to say the most, were to be silent much.' He turns a crab, or tunes a round, or sings some merry 'I knew the lady very well, but worthless of such rhyme;

praise, Nor lacks he gleeful tales to tell, whilst that the bowl The neatress said ; "and muse I do, a shepherd thus doth trot:

should blaze And sitteth singing care away, till he to bed hath got. The coat of beauty. Credit me, thy latter speech bewrays There sleeps he soundly all the night, forgetting mor- Thy clownish shape, a coined show. But wherefore row cares,

dost thou weep ?' Nor fears he blasting of his corn, or uttring of his (The shepherd wept, and she was woe, and both did wares,

silence keep.) Or storms by sea, or stirs on land, or crack of credit lost, 'In troth,' quoth he, 'I am not such as seeming I Nor spending franklier than his flock shall still defray profess; the cost.

But then for her, and now for thee, I from myself Well wot I, sooth they say, that say, more quiet digress. nights and days

Her loved I, wretch that I am, a recreant to be ; The shepherd sleeps and wakes than he whose cattle I loved her, that hated love ; but now I die for thee. he doth graze.

At Kirkland is my father's court, and Curan is my Believe me, lass, a king is but a man, and so am I ; name; Content is worth a monarchy, and mischiefs hit the In Edell's court sometimes in pomp, till love controllid high.

the same : As late it did a king and his, not dying far from But now; what now? dear heart ! how now? what hence,

ailest thou to weep ?' Who left a daughter (save thyself) for fair, a match- (The damsel wept, and he was woe, and both did less wench.

silence keep.) Here did he pause, as if his tongue had made his "I grant,' quoth she, it was too much, that you did heart offence.

love so much; The neatress, longing for the rest, did egg him oa to But whom your former could not move, your second tell

love doth touch. How fair she was, and who she was. She bore,' Thy twice beloved Agentile submitteth her to thee: quoth he,the bell

And for thy double love presents herself a single fee; For beauty: though I clownish am, I know what | In passion, not in person chang'd, and I, my lord, am beauty is,

she. Or did I not, yet, seeing thee, I senseless were to miss. They sweetly surfeiting in joy, and silent for a space, Suppose her beauty Helen's like, or Helen's somewhat Whereas the ecstacy had end, did tenderly embrace;

And for their wedding, and their wish, got fitting And every star consorting to a pure complexion guess. I time and place.


Once more for footing yet I strove,

Although the world did frown : But they, before that held me up,

Together trod me down. And, lest once more I should arise,

They sought my quite decay: Then got I into this disguise,

And thence I stole away.

Sonnet. (By George Chapman, the Translator of Homer : 1595.] Muses, that sing Love's sensual empirie, And lovers kindling your enraged fires At Cupid's bonfires burning in the eye, Blown with the empty breath of vain desires ; You, that prefer the painted cabinet Before the wealthy jewels it doth store ye, That all your joys in dying figures set, And stain the living substance of your glory; Abjure those joys, abhor their memory ; And let my love the honour'd subject be Of love and honour's complete history! Your eyes were never yet let in to see The majesty and riches of the mind, That dwell in darkness; for your god is blind.

And in my mind (methought), I said,

Lord bless me from the city : Where simpleness is thus betray'd

Without remorse or pity. Yet would I not give over so,

But once more try my fate ; And to the country then I go,

To live in quiet state.

There did appear no subtle shows,

But yea and nay went smoothly ; But, lord ! how country folks can gloze,

When they speak most untruly ! More craft was in a buttoned cap,

And in an old wife's rail, Than in my life it was my hap

To see on down or dale.

The IVoodman's Walk. [From · England's IIelicon,'1600, where it is signed, “Shep.

Through a fair forest as I went,

Cpon a summer's day,
I met a woodman, quaint and gent,

Yet in a strange array.
I marvell'd much at his disguise,

Whom I did know so well :
But thus, in terms both grave and wise,

His mind he'gan to tell ;
Friend ! muse not at this fond array,

But list a while to me:
For it hath holpe me to survey

What I shall show to thee.

There was no open forgery

But underhanded gleaning, Which they call country policy,

But hath a worser meaning. Some good bold face bears out the wrong,

Because he gains thereby ;
The poor man's back is crack'd ere long,

Yet there he lets him lie.
And no degree, among them all,

But had such close intending,
That I upon my knees did fall,

And pray'd for their amending.

Back to the woods I got again,

In mind perplexed sore; Where I found ease of all my pain,

And mean to stray no more.

Long liv'd I in this forest fair,

Till, weary of my weal,
Abroad in walks I would repair,

As now I will reveal.
My first day's walk was to the court,

Where beauty fed mine eyes ;
Yet found I that the courtly sport

Did mask in sly disguise :
For falsehood sat in fairest looks,

And friend to friend was coy :
Court favour till’d but empty rooks,

And then I found no joy. Desert went naked in the cold,

When crouching craft was fed :
Sweet words were cheaply bought and sold,

But none that stood in stead.
Wit was employed for each man's own;

Plain meaning came too short ;
All these devices, seen and known,

Made me forsake the court.
Unto the city next I went,

In hope of better hap;
Where liberally I launcht and spent,

As set on Fortune's lap.
The little stock I had in store,

Methought would ne'er be done ; Friends flock'd about me more and more,

As quickly lost as won.
For, when I spent, then they were kind ;

But when my purse did fail,
The foremost man came last behind :

Thus love with wealth doth quail.

There city, court, nor country too,

Can any way annoy me ;
But as a woodman ought to do,

I freely may employ me;
There live I quietly alone,

And none to trip my talk : Wherefore, when I am dead and gone,

Think on the woodman's walk!

There is a Garden in her face. [From An Hour's Recreation in Music,' by Rich. Alison : 1806)

There is a garden in her face,

Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,

Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do inclose

Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,

They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow :
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,
Till cherry-ripe theinselres do cry.

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