Proportion in Pity.

There must be some proportion still to pity
Between ourselves and what we moan: 'tis hard
For Men to be aught sensible how Moats
Press Flies to death.

Should the Lion, in

His midnight walks for prey, hear some poor worms
Complain for want of little drops of dew,
What pity could that generous creature have
(Who never wanted small things) for those poor
Ambitions? yet these are their concernments,
And but for want of these they pine and die.

Modesty a bar to preferment.

Sure 'twas his modesty. He might have thriven
Much better possibly, had his ambition

[Act iii., p. 46.]

Been greater much. They ofttimes take more pains
Who look for Pins, than those who find out Stars.

Innocence vindicated at last.

Heav'n may awhile correct the virtuous;
Yet it will wipe their eyes again, and make
Their faces whiter with their tears. Innocence
Conceal'd is the Stoln Pleasure of the Gods,
Which never ends in shame, as that of Men

Doth ofttimes do; but like the Sun breaks forth,
When it hath gratified another world;
And to our unexpecting eyes appears

More glorious thro' its late obscurity.

Dying for a Beloved Person.

There is a gust in Death, when 'tis for Love,
That's more than all that's taste in all the world.
For the true measure of true Love is Death;
And what falls short of this, was never Love :

[Act iii., p. 51.]

[Act v., p. 88.]

And therefore when those tides do meet and strive,
And both swell high, but Love is higher still,
This is the truest satisfaction of

The perfectest Love: for here it sees itself
Indure the highest test; and then it feels
The sum of delectation, since it now

Attains its perfect end; and shows its object,

[The preceding lines really follow those that here succeed them.]

Unite into one all goodness whatsoe❜er
Mortality can boast of, thou shalt find
The circle narrow-bounded to contain
This swelling treasure; every good admits
Degrees, but this being so good, it cannot :
For he's no friend is not superlative.
Indulgent parents, brethren, kindred, tied
By the natural flow of blood, alliances,
And what you can imagine, is too light
To weigh with name of friend: they execute
At best but what a nature prompts them to;
Are often less than friends, when they remain
Our kinsmen still: but friend is never lost.

Seb. Nay then, Antonio, you mistake; I mean not
To leave off friend, which, with another title,
Would not be lost. Come then, I'll tell you, sir;
I would be friend and brother: thus our friendship
Shall, like a diamond set in gold, not lose
His sparkling, but shew fairer : I have a pair
Of sisters, which I would commend, but that
I might seem partial, their birth and fortunes
Deserving noble love; if thou be'st free

From other fair engagement, I would be proud
To speak them worthy come, shalt go and see them.
I would not beg them suitors; fame hath spread
Through Portugal their persons, and drawn to Avero
Many affectionate gallants.

Ant. Catalina and Berinthia.

Seb. The same.

Ant. Report speaks loud their beauties, and no less Virtue in either. Well, I see you strive

To leave no merit where you mean to honour.

I cannot otherwise escape the censure

Of one ungrateful, but by waiting on you
Home to Avero.

Seb. You shall honour me,

And glad my noble father, to whom you are
No stranger; your own worth before hath been
Sufficient preparation.

Ant. Ha!

I have not so much choice, Sebastiano :

But if one sister of Antonio's

May have a commendation to your thoughts, (I will not spend much art in praising her, Her virtue speak itself) I shall be happy ;

But the effect-Urania still is chaste;
And with her chaster lips hath promised to
Invoke blest Heav'n for my intended sin.

[Act iii., p. 32.1]

ALL FOOLS. A COMEDY. BY GEORGE CHAPMAN. [PUBLISHED] 1605

Love's Panegyric.

'tis Nature's second Sun,

Causing a spring of Virtues where he shines;
And as without the Sun, the world's Great Eye,
All colours, beauties, both of art and nature,
Are given in vain to man; so without Love
All beauties bred in women are in vain,

All virtues born in men lie buried ;

For Love informs them as the Sun doth colours:
And as the Sun, reflecting his warm beams
Against the earth, begets all fruits and flowers,
So Love, fair shining in the inward man,
Brings forth in him the honourable fruits

Of valour, wit, virtue, and haughty thoughts,
Brave resolution, and divine discourse.

Love with Jealousy.

such Love is like a smoky fire

In a cold morning. Though the fire be chearful,
Yet is the smoke so foul and cumbersome,

"Twere better lose the fire than find the smoke.

[Act i., Sc. 1.2]

Bailiffs routed.

[Act i., Sc. 1.]

I walking in the place where men's Law Suits
Are heard and pleaded, not so much as dreaming
Of any such encounter; steps me forth

Their valiant Foreman with the word "I 'rest you."
I made no more ado but laid these paws

Close on his shoulders, tumbling him to earth;
And there sat he on his posteriors

Like a baboon: and turning me about,

2

1[For further extracts from this play see Appendix, p. 591.]
[Mermaid Series, ed. Phelps, 1895.]

I strait espied the whole troop issuing on me.
I step me back, and drawing my old friend here,
Made to the midst of 'em, and all unable
To endure the shock, all rudely fell in rout,
And down the stairs they ran in such a fury,
As meeting with a troop of Lawyers there,

Mann'd by their Clients (some with ten, some with twenty,
Some five, some three; he that had least had one),
Upon the stairs, they bore them down afore them.
But such a rattling then there was amongst them,
Of ravish'd Declarations, Replications,
Rejoinders, and Petitions, all their books
And writings torn, and trod on, and some lost,
That the poor Lawyers coming to the Bar
Could say nought to the matter, but instead
Were fain to rail, and talk beside their books,
Without all order.1

[Act ii., Sc. 1.]

THE LATE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. A COMEDY [SEE PAGE 101]. BY THOMAS HEYWOOD [AND RICHARD BROME]

A Household bewitched.

My Uncle has of late become the sole

Discourse of all the country; for of a man respected

As master of a govern'd family,

The House (as if the ridge were fix'd below,

And groundsils lifted up to make the roof)
All now's turn'd topsy-turvy,

In such a retrograde and preposterous way
As seldom hath been heard of, I think never.
The Good Man

In all obedience kneels unto his Son;

He with an austere brow commands his Father.
The Wife presumes not in the Daughter's sight
Without a prepared curtsy; the Girl she
Expects it as a duty; chides her Mother,

Who quakes and trembles at each word she speaks.

1[For other extracts from Chapman see note to page 83.]

And what's as strange, the Maid-she domineers
O'er her young Mistress, who is awed by her.
The Son, to whom the Father creeps and bends,
Stands in as much fear of the groom his Man!
All in such rare disorder, that in some
As it breeds pity, and in others wonder,
So in the most part laughter. It is thought,
This comes by WITCHCRAFT.

[Act i., Sc. 1.]

WIT IN A CONSTABLE.

A COMEDY [PUBLISHED

1640 WRITTEN 1639]. BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE [FLOURISHED 1639]

Books.

Collegian. Did you, ere we departed from the College, O'erlook my Library?

Servant. Yes, Sir; and I find,

Altho' you tell me Learning is immortal,

The paper and the parchment 'tis contain'd in

Savours of much mortality.

The moths have eaten more

Authentic Learning, than would richly furnish

A hundred country pedants; yet the worms
Are not one letter wiser.

[Act i., Sc. 1.1]

ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM; HIS TRUE AND LAMENTABLE TRAGEDY. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. [PUBLISHED] 1592

Alice Arden with Mosbie her Paramour conspire the murder of her husband.

Mos. How now, Alice, what sad and passionate?

Make me partaker of thy pensiveness;

Fire divided burns with lesser force.

[Glapthorne's Plays, 1874, vol. i. See also " Facetiæ," page 566.]