Bids them fulfil their charge and look no further. With heavenly smiles, and quiet words, foreshows ROSTEN describes to ACHMAT the popular Fury which followed upon the Execution of MUSTAPHA. ROSTEN. ACHMAT. Ros. When Mustapha was by the eunuchs strangled, As while her forces nourished confusion, Towards Solyman they run: and as the waters, What they demanded, or what meant their coming? I speak they cry'd for Mustapha and Achmat. Made them that sought my life, give life unto me. [These two Tragedies of Lord Brooke might with more propriety have been termed political treatises, than plays. Their author has strangely contrived to make passion, character and interest, of the highest order subservient to the expression of state dogmas and mysteries. He is nine parts Machiavel and Tacitus, for one part Sophocles or Seneca. In this writer's estimate of the faculties of his own mind, the understanding must have held a most tyrannical pre-eminence. Whether we look into his plays, or his most passionate love-poems, we shall find all frozen and made rigid with intellect. The finest movements of the human heart, the utmost grandeur of which the soul is capable, are essentially comprized in the actions and speeches of Cælica and Camena. Shakspeare, who seems to have had a peculiar delight in contemplating womanly perfection, whom for his many sweet images of female excellence all women are in an especial manner bound to love, has not raised the ideal of the female character higher than Lord Brooke in these two women has done. But it requires a study equivalent to the learning of a new language to understand their meaning when they speak. It is indeed hard to hit: Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day Or seven though one should musing sit. It is as if a being of pure intellect should take upon him to express the emotions of our sensitive natures. There would be all knowledge, but sympathetic expression would be wanting.] 265 THE CASE IS ALTERED. A COMEDY. BY BEN. JONSON. The present Humour to be followed. AURELIA, PHOENIXELLA, Sisters: their Mother being lately dead. OI could make a wench so virtuous, She should say grace to every bit of meat, And she should make French court'sies so most low Aur. Sister, i' faith you take too much tobacco, Give it the reins, and spare not; as I do It is Precisianism to alter that, With austere judgment, that is giv'n by nature. And fitter with my mode, than not to weep: VOL. I. N Perhaps I shall have such deep thoughts of her, And put on black as grimly then as now.- Presentiment of Treachery, vanishing at the sight of the person suspected. Lord PAULO FARNEZE. (Speaking to himself of ANGELO.) Why I should fear or faint thus in my hopes Of one so much endeared to my love: Some spark it is, kindled within the soul, Whose light yet breaks not to the outward sense, Of change, or weakness; then I injure him, O here he comes. [While he speaks ANGELO enters. Angelo. How now, sweet Lord, what's the matter? Paul. Good faith, his presence makes me half ashamed Of my stray'd thoughts. JAQUES (a Miser) worships his Gold. Jac. Tis not to be told What servile villainies men will do for gold. Except mine own. All thoughts of thee be poison [The passion for wealth has worn out much of its grossness by tract of time. Our ancestors certainly conceived of money as able to confer a distinct gratification in itself, not alone considered simply as a symbol of wealth. The oldest poets, when they introduce a miser, constantly make him address his gold as his mistress; as something to be seen, felt, and hugged; as capable of satisfying two of the senses at least. The substitution of a thin unsatisfying medium for the good old tangible gold, has made avarice quite a Platonic affection in comparison with the seeing, touching, and handling pleasures of the old Chrysophilites. A bank note can no more satisfy the touch of a true sensualist in this passion, than Creusa could return her husband's embrace in the shades. See the Cave of Mammon in Spenser: Barabas's contemplation of his wealth, in the Jew of Malta; Luke's raptures in the City Madam, &c. Above all hear Guzman, in that excellent old Spanish Novel, The Rogue, expatiate on the "ruddy cheeks of your golden Ruddocks, your Spanish Pistolets, your plump and full-faced Portuguese, and your clear-skinn'd pieces of eight of Castile," which he and his fellows the beggars kept secret to themselves, and did "privately enjoy in a plentiful man"For to have them, for to pay them away, is not to enjoy them; to enjoy them is to have them lying by us, having no other need of them than to use them for the clearing of the eye-sight, and the comforting of our senses. These we did carry about with us, sewing them in some patches of our doubtlets near unto the heart, and as close to the skin as we could handsomely quilt them in, holding them to be restorative."] ner." POETASTER; OR, HIS ARRAIGNMENT. A COMICAL SATYR. BY BEN. JONSON. Ovid bewails his hard condition in being banished from Court and the Society of the Princess Julia. OVID. Banish'd the court? let me be banish'd life, |