more beautifully natural than the first dawn of good feeling in Ferdinand, "Cover her face: mine eyes dazzle: she died young;" nor the intense anxiety of Bosola, when the Dutchess for a moment opens her eyes before she expires: "her eye opes, And heaven, in it, seems to ope, (that late was shut,) and The whole of this part of the scene is most strikingly dramatic. The ensuing dialogue between Antonio and Echo, which is introduced by some fine lines, is of a very singular kind, is as skilfully managed, as it is singular in conception. The anxious and uncertain state of Antonio, as to the fate of the Dutchess, and the strange and awful responses of this airy nothing, notwithstanding the artificial nature of the dialogue, produce sensations thrilling and startling. Antonio, Delio, Echo. "Del. Yond's the cardinal's window: this fortification Ant. I do love these ancient ruins; Lov'd the church so well, and gave so largely to't, Ec. Like death that we have. Del. Now the echo hath caught you. A very deadly accent. Ec. Deadly accent. Del. I told you 'twas a pretty one: you may make it Or a thing of sorrow. Ec. A thing of sorrow. Ant. Ay, sure; that suits it best. Ec. That suits it best. Ant. "Tis very like my Ec. Ay, wife's voice. wife's voice. Del. Come, let's walk farther from't: I would not have you to th' cardinal's to-night: Do not. Ec. Do not. Del. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow Ant. Necessity compels me; Make scrutiny throughout the passes Of your own life; you'll find it impossible To flie your fate. Ec. O flie your fate. Del. Hark: the dead stones seem to have pity on you, And give you good counsel. Ant. Echo, I will not talk with thee; For thou art a dead thing. Ec. Thou art a dead thing. Ant. My dutchess is asleep now, And her little ones, I hope, sweetly; oh, Heaven! Shall I never see her more? Ec. 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, Antonio is afterwards unintentionally slain by Bosola. Ferdinand becomes mad, and gives mortal wounds to both the Cardinal and Bosola, with which internecion the play concludes. It is out of the question to talk of the unities, with refe rence to our English dramatists, but we cannot help remarking, in perusing this play, the rapidity with which the author makes Time ply his wings. We learn, almost in the same breath, of the marriage of the Dutchess, and the birth of three children.* This play was successful. The last play which Webster wrote was Appius and Virginia, whose history has been so frequently the subject of dramatic composition. It is, as a whole, the most finished and regular of all his plays; and although it does not contain scenes equal to those we have already extracted, it is full of dramatic interest-rife in striking action. There is a studious care in the management of the plot, and the most accurate judgement as to effect in the introduction and developement of the incidents. Our readers are aware of the main action-the nefarious attempt of Appius, one of the Decemvirs, to obtain possession of the person of Virginia, for whom he had a dishonest passion, by means of one of his servants claiming her as his bondwoman; and the death of the noble Roman lady by the hands of her own father, to save her from disgrace. The scene in which Icilius, to whom Virginia had been betrothed, discloses to Appius his knowledge of his base attempts, is very spirited and effective; and the one in which Virginius explains to the Roman soldiers the reasons which induced him to perpetrate the fatal act, is one of subduing pathos. It is remarkably superior to that of the trial and death of Virginia, which, indeed, is comparatively powerless, with the exception of the last beautiful speech of Virginius to his daughter. We shall present to our readers the scene at the camp. "Virginius enters, holding the fatal knife in his hand: he advances into the midst of the Soldiers, and then stops and addresses them. "Virg. Have I in all this populous assembly Of soldiers, that have prov'd Virginius' valour, Where honour sits enthronis'd. What! no friend? * Mr. Campbell, in his Specimens of British Poets, erroneously states the preface to The White Devil to be prefixed to the Dutchess of Malfy, and thence infers, that the latter play was unsuccessful. He also affirms, that Dekker and Marston assisted Webster and Rowley in The Thracian Wonder and A Cure for a Cuckold, in which we cannot discover that they had any concern. Can this great multitude then yield an enemy If in this camp There lives one man so just to punish sin, Min. What means Virginius? Virg. Or if the general's heart be so obdure To an old begging soldier, have I here At whose bold hand and sword, if not entreat, 1 Sold. Alas! good captain. Min. Virginius, you have no command at all: Virg. General, thanks: For thou hast done as much with one harsh word Min. Besides, I charge you To speak what means this ugly face of blood, Virg. I have play'd the parricide : Kill'd mine own child. Min. Virginia? Virg. Yes, even she. These rude hands ripp'd her, and her innocent blood Min. Kill'd her willingly? Virg. Willingly, with advice, premeditation, And settled purpose; and see, still I wear Are dy'd in her heart's blood. Min. Most wretched villain ! Virg. But how? I lov'd her life. Lend me amongst you One speaking organ to discourse her death, It is too harsh an imposition To lay upon a father. Oh, my Virginia! Min. How agrees this? love her, and murder her? To the rude twinings of a lecherous judge; 2 Sold. Oh, noble Virginius! Virg. To you I appeal, you are my sentencers: Did Appius right, or poor Virginius wrong? Sentence my fact with a free general tongue. 1 Sold. Appius is the parricide. 2 Sold. Virginius guiltless of his daughter's death. Of all the Roman fry that follows you Confirms at large), this cause is to be pitied, Virg. Noble Minutius, Thou hast a daughter, thou hast a wife too; So most of you have, soldiers; why might not this 1 Sold. Appius shall die for't. 2 Sold. Let's make Virginius general. Omnes. A general! a general! let's make Virginius general! The wrongs are thine; so violent and so weighty That none but he that lost so fair a child, Knows how to punish. By the gods of Rome, |