gone? [Eglamour goes out, but comes in again. Eg. But she, as chaste as was her name, Earine, [hovers Dy'd undeflower'd: and now her sweet soul Here in the air above us; and doth haste To get up to the moon, and Mercury: And whisper Venus in her orb; then spring Up to old Saturn, and come down by Mars, Consulting Jupiter, and seat herself Just in the midst with Phoebus, temp'ring all The jarring spheres, and giving to the world Again his first and tuneful planetting! Owhat an age will here be of new concords! Delightful harmony! to rock old sages, Twice infants, in the cradle o' speculation, And throw a silence upon all the creatures ! [He goes out again, but returns as soon as before. Kar. A cogitation of the highest rapture! Eg. The loudest seas, and most enraged winds, [hoarse, Shall lose their clangor; tempests shall grow Loud thunder dumb, and every speece of storm 2 Laid in the lap of list'ning nature husht, To hear the changed chime of this eighth sphere.3 Take tent, and hearken for it, lose it not. [Æglamour departs. Or ours, I fear! he starts away from hand And all the touches or soft strokes of reas Ye can apply! no colt is so unbroken! Or hawk yet half so haggard or unman' He takes all toys that his wild phantʼsie pra fers, [cs And flies away with them. He now ou That my lost sister, his Earine, Is lately turn'd a sphere amid the seven; And reads a musick-lecture to the plane's And with this thought he's run to call e hearers! Cla. Alas, this is a strain'd, but innoce phant'sie! I'll follow him, and find him if I can: Meantime, go you with Lionel, sweet Kard He will acquaint you with an accident, Which much desires your presence on L place. Loud thunder dumb, and every SPEECE of storm.] Tempest should be evidently t pests; the s was dropt as the next word began with that letter. Every specce of storm, every kind or appearance; speece from the Latin species. To hear the changed chime of HIS eighth sphere.] His should be this, which hath also the authority of the folio. + As if you stuck one eye into my breast, And with the other took my whole dimensions.] The metaphor borrowed from me suring things with a compass, which hath one foot fixed, and the other extended to for the circle. Maud. Hath he forsook me? Puck. At your beck, madam. Maud. O Puck, my goblin! I have lost [from me. The strong thief, Robin Out-law, forc'd it Puck. They are other clouds and blacker threat you, dame; my belt, You must be wary, and pull in your sails, [to; Maud. What rocks about me? To shew you all your dangers, when you [pilot, Come, follow me, I'll once more be your And you shall thank me. Maud. Lucky, my lov'd goblin! Lor. Unto my tree, To see my maistress. [Lorel meets her. Maud. Gang thy gait, and try Thy turns with better luck, or hang thy sel'.* * I cannot but lament with the reader, the loss of the remaining parts of this play, which we could have borne with the greater patience, had even this act been fortunately completed. We have no account how it came down to us in this mutilated condition; and conjectures can be at best but precarious. Possibly it might have been in the number of those pieces, which were accidentally burnt; though indeed there is no particular mention of it in the Execration upon Vulcan: or Jonson might have undertaken it in the decline of his days, and did not live to finish it; as was the case with his tragedy of Mortimer; and to this conjecture we are induced by the first line of the prologue, "He that hath feasted you these forty years." There is indeed one reason, which might lead us to believe, that the poet left it unfinished by design. He beheld with great indignation the ungenerous treatment which Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess met with from the people, at its first appearance; and he was witness also to the small encouragement that was shewn to its revival, under the patronage of Charles I. Possibly these circumstances deterred him from going through with the performance. As his composition was of a kindred nature with that of Fletcher, he might presage the same unfortunate event, should he ever introduce it on the stage. So that 4 T posterity posterity can only bewail the perversity of taste, in their injudicious ancestors, whose dis couragement of the first, contributed to deprive us of the second pastoral drama, that would do honour to the nation. What we now have, serveth only to increase our regret; like the remains of some ancient master, which beget in us the most inexpressible desire of a perfect statue by the same hand. When a work is not completed by its author, or maimed by the hand of time, one would either wish the remains to be inconsiderable, or the beauties less exquisite and charming. In the former case the deficiency is not so much deplored, from our inability to judge of the perfection of the whole; and in the latter, we are very little anxious for what appears to be hardly worth preserving; but when a piece is so far advanced, as to convince us of the excellence of the artist, and of its own superior delicacy, we are naturally touched with concern for what is lost, and set a proper value on the purs which still subsist. "THE FIRST ACT comprehends Mortimer's pride and security, raised to the degree of "an earl, by the queen's favour and love; with the counsels of Adam d'Orlton, the politic "bishop of Worcester, against Lancaster." The Chorus of ladies, celebrating the worthiness of the queen, in rewarding Mortimer's services, and the bishop's. "The SECOND ACT shews the king's love and respect to his mother, that will hear "nothing against Mortimer's greatness, or believe any report of her extraordinary favours "to him; but imputes all to his cousin Lancaster's envy, and commands thereafter an "utter silence of those matters." The Chorus of courtiers celebrating the king's worthiness of nature, and affection to his mother, who will hear nothing that may trench upon her honour, though delivered by his kinsman, of such nearness; and thereby take occasion to extol the king's piety, and their own happiness under such a king. "The THIRD ACT relates (by the occasion of a vision the blind earl of Lancaster had) "to the king's brother, earl of Cornwall, the horror of their father's death, and the cunning "making away with their uncle, the earl of Kent, by Mortimer's hired practice." The Chorus of country-justices, and their wives, telling how they were deluded, and made believe the old king lived, by the shew of him in Corfe-castle; and how they saw him eat, and use his knife like the old king, &c. with the description of the feigned lights and masques there, that deceived 'em, all which came from the court. "The FOURTH Aст expresseth, by conference between the king and his brother, a "change, and intention to explore the truth of those reports, and a charge of employing "W. Mountacute to get the keys of the castle of Nottingham into the king's power, and "draw the constable, sir Robert d'Eland, to their party.” Mortimer's security, scorn of the nobility, too much familiarity with the queen, related by the Chorus. The report of the king's surprizing him in his mother's bed-chamber: a general gladness. His being sent to execution, "The FIFTH ACT, the earl of Lancaster's following the cry, and meeting the report. "The celebration of the king's justice." Is a great lord of late, and a new thing! wax. Perhaps the hurdle, or at least the axe, For what I have this crownet, robes, and [spirits There is a fate, that flies with tow'ring Home to the mark, and never checks at conscience. [may make Poor plodding priests, and preaching friars Their hollow pulpits, and the empty iles Of churches ring with that round word: but we [air, That draw the subtile and more piercing In that sublimed region of a court, Know all is good, we make so, and go on Secur'd by the prosperity of our crimes. To-day is Mortimer made earl of March. For what? For that, the very thinking it Would make a citizen start! some politic tradesman Curl with the caution of a constable ! To fear of a revenge. They are light offences above it. Man doth not nurse a deadlier piece of folly To his high temper, and brave soul, than that Of fancying goodness, and a seal to live by So differing from man's life. As if with lions, [of prey, Bears, tygers, wolves, and all those beasts He would affect to be a sheep! Can man Neglect what is so, to attain what should be, As rather he will call on his own ruin, Than work t' assure his safety? I should think [good, When 'mongst a world of bad, none can be (I mean, so absolutely good and perfect, As our religious confessors would have us) It is enough we do decline the rumour Of doing monstrous things: and yet, if those Were of emolument, unto our ends, Even of those, the wise inan will make friends For all the brand, and safely do the ill, Isab. My lord! sweet Mortimer! Juno! Is a great lord of late, and a new thing! At this line we have a marginal annotation, which being a verse, and rhiming to the other, as well as explanatory of the sentiment, was probably designed by the poet as a part of his work. If we admit it in the text, the whole will run thus; Mortimer Is a great lord of late, and a new thing! A prince, an earl, and cousin to the king. This last verse has stood, in all preceding editions, as a note only. As if I felt it DACTILE through my blood.] Dactile is a word of no meaning; and though all the editions concur in the reading, the present text will probably be thought the least erroneous. Had the poet lived to have completed this poem with the same spirit in which he began it, we should have been able to boast of one perfect tragedy at least, formed upon the Grecian model, and giving us the happiest imitation of the antient drama. |