of his (De Flores in the "Changeling") which, for effect at once tragical, probable, and poetical, surpasses anything I know of in the drama of domestic life. Middleton has the honor of having furnished part of the witch poetry to Macbeth, and of being conjoined with it also in the powerful and beautiful music of Locke.

:

From Massinger, Ford, and the others (as far as I have met with them, and apart from the connexion of Massinger's name with Decker), I could find nothing to extract of a nature to suit this particular volume, and of equal height with its contents. It is proper to state, however, that I have only glanced through their works for though no easily daunted reader, I never read an entire play either of Ford or Massinger. They repel me with the conventional tendencies of their style, and their unnatural plots and characters. Ford, however, is elegant and thoughtful; and Massinger has passion, though (as far as I know) not in a generous shape. With these two writers began that prosaical part of the corruption of dramatic style (merging passionate language into conventional) which came to its head in Shirley.

Donusa. What magic hath transform'd me from myself?
Where is my virgin pride? how have I lost
My boasted freedom! what new fire burns up
My scorch'd entrails!! what unknown desires
Invade, and take possession of my soul?

Massinger's Renegado.

Hialas.
To this union
The good of both the Church and Commonwealth
Invite you.

Durham. To this unity, a mystery

Of providence points out a greater blessing
For both these nations, than our human wisdom
Can search into. King Henry hath a daughter,
The Princess Margaret. I need not urge, &c.

Ford's Perkin Warbeck.

Both these passages are the first I came to, on dipping into their works. One might fancy one's self reading Cato or the Grecian Daughter, instead of men who had breathed the air of the days of Shakspeare.

Massinger was joint author with Decker, of the play from which the scene of the lady and the angel is taken; but nobody who knows the style of the two men can doubt for a moment to which it belongs. I have, therefore, without hesitation assigned it according to the opinion expressed by Mr. Lamb.

FLIGHT OF WITCHES.

Scene, a Field. Enter HECATE, STADLIN, HoppO, and other Witches. FIRESTONE in the background.

Hec. The moon's a gallant; see how brisk she rides!

Stad. Here's a rich evening, Hecate.
Hec.

Ay, is 't not, wenches,
To take a journey of five thousand miles?
Hop.

O't will be precious!

Heard you the owl yet?
Stad.
As we came through now.

Hec.

Briefly in the copse,

'T is high time for us then
Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times,
As we came through the woods, and drank her fill:
Old Puckle saw her.

Hec.
"You are fortunate still;
The very screech-owl lights upon your shoulder,
And woos you like a pigeon. Are you furnished?
Have you your ointments?

Stad..

Hec.

I'll overtake you swiftly.
Stad.

We shall be up betimes.

Hec.

All.

Prepare to flight then;

Hie thee, Hecate;

I'll reach you quickly.

[Exeunt all the Witches except HECATE. Fire. They are all going a birding to-night: they talk of fowls i' th' air that fly by day; I am sure they'll be a company of foul sluts there to-night: if we have not mortality after 't, I'll be hanged, for they are able to putrefy it, to infect a whole region She spies me now.

Hee. What, Firestone, our sweet son?

Fire. A little sweeter than some of you, or a dunghill were too good for

[Aside.

me.

Hec How much hast here ?

Fire. six lizards and three serpentine eggs.

Hec. Dear and sweet boy! what herbs hast thou?

Nineteen, and all brave plump ones, besides

Fire. I have some marmartin and mandragon.
Hec. Marmaritin and mandragora, thou wouldst say.

Fire. Here's panax too—I thank thee-my pan aches I'm sure, with kneeling down to cut 'em.

Hec.

And selago,

Hedge-hysop too; how near he goes my cuttings!
Were they all cropt by moonlight?

Fire.

Every blade of 'em,

Or I'm a moon-calf, mother.

Hec.
Hie thee home with 'em :
Look well to the house to-night; I'm for aloft.

Fire. Aloft, quoth you? I would you would break your neck once, that
I might have all quickly! [Aside.]—Hark, hark, mother! they are above
the steeple already, flying over your head with a noise of musicians.
Hec. They're they indeed. Help, help me; I'm too late else.

[A spirit like a cat descends [Voice above.] There's one comes down to fetch his dues, A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood;

And why thou stay'st so long, I muse,

Since the air 's so sweet and good?

Hec. O, art thou come? what news, what news?

Spirit. All goes still to our delight,

Either come, or else refuse.

Hec. Now I'm furnished for the flight.

Fire. Hark, hark, the cat rings a brave treble in her own language!

[Hec. going up.] Now I go, now I fly,

Malkin my sweet spirit and I.
O what a dainty pleasure 't is

•

To ride in the air

When the moon shines fair,

And sing and dance, and toy and kiss!
Over woods, high rocks and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains;
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,
We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits:
No ring of bells to our ears sounds;
No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's breach,

Or cannon's throat our height can reach.

[Voice above.] No ring of bells, &c.

Fire. Well, mother, I thank your kindness: you must be gambolling i' th' air, and leave me to walk here, like a fool and a mortal.

MIDDLETON.

An ANGEL, in the guise of a Page, attends on DOROTHEA.

Dor. My book and taper
Ang.

Here, most holy mistress.

Dor. Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never
Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound.

Were every servant in the world like thee,

So full of goodness, angels would come down
To dwell with us: thy name is Angelo,
And like that name thou art. Get thee to rest;
Thy youth with too much watching is opprest.

Ang. No, my dear lady; I could weary stars,
And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes,
By my late watching, but to wait on you.
When at your prayers you kneel before the altar,
Methinks I'm singing with some quire in heaven,
So blest I hold me in your company:
Therefore, my most lov'd mistress, do not bid
Your boy, so serviceable, to get hence;
For then you break his heart.

Be nigh me still then.

Dor.
In golden letters down I'll set that day
Which gave thee to me. Little did I hope
To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself,

This little, pretty body, when I, coming
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy,
My sweet-faced, godly beggar-boy, crave an alms,
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand!
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom
Methought was fill'd with no hot wanton fire,
But with a holy flame, mounting since higher,
On wings of cherubims, than it did before.

Ang. Proud am I, that my lady's modest eye
So likes so poor a servant.

Dor.
I have offer'd
Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents.
I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some
To dwell with thy good father; for, the son
Bewitching me so deeply with his presence,
He that got him must do it ten times more.
I pray thee, my sweet boy, show me thy parents;
Be not asham'd.

Ang.

I am not: I did never
Know who my mother was; but by yon palace,
Fill'd with bright heavenly courts, I dare assure you,
And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand,
My father is in heaven; and, pretty mistress,
If your illustrious hour-glass spend his sand,
No worse than yet it does, upon my life,
You and I both shall meet my father there,
And he shall bid you welcome!

Dor.
O blessed day!
We all long to be there, but lose the way.

[Exeunt

DOROTHEA is executed; and the ANGEL visits THEOPHILUS, the Judge

that condemned her.

Theoph. (alone)

A pretty one; but let such horror follow
The next I feed with torments, that when Rome
Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound
May feel an earthquake. How now? (Music.)

This Christian slut was well,

Ang.

Are you amazed, sir?

So great a Roman spirit, and doth it tremble?
Theoph. How cam'st thou in? to whom thy business?
Ang. To you.

I had a mistress, late sent hence by you

Upon a bloody errand; you entreated,

That, when she came into that blessed garden