author has polluted his paper in other parts of the same play. The princess says,

"Cal. Being alone, Penthea, you now have granted The opportunity you sought; and might

At all times have commanded.

Which I shall owe your goodness even in death for:
My glass of life, sweet princess, hath few minutes
Remaining to run down; the sands are spent ;
For by an inward messenger I feel
The summons of departure short and certain.
Cal. You feed too much your melancholy.
Pen.

Glories

Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams,
And shadows soon decaying. On the stage
Of my mortality, my youth hath acted
Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length
By varied pleasures, sweetened in the mixture,
But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp,
With every sensuality our giddiness

Doth frame an idol, are unconstant friends,
When any troubled passion makes us halt
On the unguarded castle of the mind.

Cal.

Speak; and enjoy it.
Pen. Vouchsafe, then, to be my executrix,
And take that trouble on you to dispose
Such legacies as I bequeath, impartially;
I have not much to give; the pains are easy,
Heav'n will reward your piety, and thank it
When I am dead; for sure I must not live:
I hope I cannot.”

After leaving her fame, her youth, &c. in some very pretty but fantastical verses, she proceeds

64

66

FORD-HIS WITCH OF EDMONTON.

'Pen. 'Tis long agone, since first I lost my heart;
Long have I liv'd without it; else for certain

I should have given that too; But instead
Of it, to great Calantha, Sparta's heir,
By service bound, and by affection vow'd,
I do bequeath in holiest rites of love
Mine only brother, Ithocles.

Cal. What say'st thou?
Pen

I must leave the world

I am a sister, though to me this brother

Hath been, you know, unkind: Oh, most unkind!"

vol. i. 291-293.

There are passages of equal power and beauty in the plays called "Love's Sacrifice," "The Lover's Melancholy," and in" Fancies Chaste and Noble." In " Perkin Warbeck," there is a more uniform and sustained elevation of style. But we pass all those over, to give our readers a word or two from "The Witch of Edmonton," a drama founded upon the recent execution of a miserable old woman for that fashionable offence; and in which the devil, in the shape of a black dog, is a principal performer! The greater part of the play, in which Ford, was assisted by Dekkar and Rowley, is of course utterly absurd and contemptible-though not without its value as a memorial of the strange superstition of the age; but it contains some scenes of great interest and beauty, though written in a lower and more familiar tone than most of those we have already exhibited. As a specimen of the range of the author's talents, we shall present our readers with one of these. Frank Thorney had privately married a woman of inferior rank; and is afterwards strongly urged by his father, and his own inclination, to take a second wife, in the person of a rich yeoman's daughter whose affections were fixed upon him. After taking this unjustifiable step, he is naturally troubled with certain inward compunctions, which manifest

themselves in his exterior, and excite the apprehensions of his innocent bride. It is her dialogue with him that we are now to extract; and we think the picture that it affords of unassuming innocence and singleness of heart, is drawn with great truth, and even elegance. She begins with asking him why he changes countenance so suddenly. He answers

66

Who, I? For nothing.
Sus. Dear, say not so: a spirit of your constancy
Cannot endure this change for nothing. I've observ'd
Strange variations in you.

Frank.

Sus.

In me?

In you, sir.

Indeed you shall not shut me from partaking
The least dislike that grieves you, I'm all

Frank. And I all thine.
Sus.

yours.

You are not; if you keep

The least grief from me: but I know the cause;

It grows from me.

Frank.

Sus.

In me or my behaviour; you're not kind
In the concealment. 'Las, sir, I am young,

Silly and plain; more

strange to those contents
A wife should offer. Say but in what I fail,
I'll study satisfaction.

Sus. I know I do; knew I as well in what,
You should not long be sullen. Prythee, love,

If I have been immodest or too bold,

Speak't in a frown; if peevishly too nice,
Shew't in a smile. Thy liking is a glass
By which I'll habit my behaviour.

Frank.

Dost weep now?

Sus.

Wherefore

You, sweet, have the power

To make me passionate as an April day.

Now smile, then weep; now pale, then crimson red.

You are the powerful moon of my blood's sea,

Thou'rt all perfection: Diana herself

Swells in thy thoughts and moderates thy beauty.
Within thy clear eye amorous Cupid sits

Feathering love-shafts, whose golden heads he dips
In thy chaste breast.

Sus. Come, come: these golden strings of flattery
Shall not tie up my speech, sir: I must know
The ground of your disturbance.

Frank.

Then look here:

Frank.

Heaven shield it!

Where?

In mine own bosom! here the cause has root;

The poisoned leeches twist about my heart,

And will, I hope, confound me.

Sus.

You speak riddles."

vol. ii. p. 437-440.

The unfortunate bigamist afterwards resolves to desert this innocent creature: but, in the act of their parting, is moved by the devil, who rubs against him in the shape of a dog! to murder her. We are tempted to give the greater part of this scene, just to show how much beauty of diction and natural expression of character may be combined with the most revolting and degrading absurdities. The unhappy bridegroom saysWhy would you delay? we have no other business Now, but to part.

66

Sus. And will not that, sweet-heart, ask a long time?
Methinks it is the hardest piece of work

That e'er I took in hand.

Fie, fie! why look,

Frank.
I'll make it plain and easy to you. Farewell.
Sus. Ah, 'las! I'm not half perfect in it yet.
I must have it thus read a hundred times.
Pray you take some pains, I confess my dulness.
Frank. Come! again and again, farewell.

wilt return?

[Kisses her.

[Kisses her.]

Yet

All questions of my journey, my stay, employment,
And revisitation, fully I have answered all.
There's nothing now behind but—

Sus.

Frank. What is't?

Sus.

But this request

That I may bring you thro' one pasture more,
Up to yon knot of trees: amongst those shadows
I'll vanish from you; they shall teach me how.

FARTHER SCENES.

Frank. Why, 'tis granted: come, walk then.

Sus.

Nay, not too fast:

They say, slow things have best perfection;
The gentle show'r wets to fertility,

The churlish storm makes mischief with his bounty.
Frank. Now, your request

Is out yet will you leave me?

Sus.

You'll make me stay for ever,

What? so churlishly?

Rather than part with such a sound from you.

Frank. Why, you almost anger me.—- 'Pray you begone.

You have no company, and 'tis very early;

Some hurt may betide you homewards.

Sus.

To leave you is the greatest I can suffer.
Frank. So! I shall have more trouble."

Tush! I fear none:

67

Here the dog rubs against him; and, after some more talk, he stabs her!

66

Sus.

Why then I thank you ;
You have done lovingly, leaving yourself,
That you would thus bestow me on another.
Thou art my husband, Death! I embrace thee
With all the love I have. Forget the stain
Of my unwitting sin: and then I come
A crystal virgin to thee. My soul's purity
Shall, with bold wings, ascend the doors of mercy;
For innocence is ever her companion.

Frank. Not yet mortal? I would not linger you,
Or leave you a tongue to blab.

[Stabs her again.

Sus. Now heaven reward you ne'er the worse for me!

I did not think that death had been so sweet,

Nor I so apt to love him. I could ne'er die better,
Had I stay'd forty years for preparation :

For I'm in charity with all the world.

Let me for once be thine example, heaven;
Do to this man as I; forgive him freely,
And may he better die, and sweeter live.

[Dies."

vol. ii. p. 452--455.

We cannot afford any more space for Mr. Ford; and what we have said, and what we have shown of him, will probably be thought enough, both by those who are disposed to scoff, and those who are inclined to admire. It is but fair, however, to intimate, that a thorough perusal of his works will afford more exercise to the former disposition than to the latter. His faults are glaring and abundant; but we have not thought it necessary to produce any specimens of them, because they