Lean. Now I have another temper, a mere stranger To that of yours, it seems; I should delight To see none but yourself. Bian. I praise not that; Too fond is as unseemly as too churlish: I would not have a husband of that proneness, Nay, were't yourself, whose love had power you know As look on one thing still: what's the eye's treasure, And know I speak not ill; 'tis full as virtuous As for her heart, sir, to be fixed on one. Lean. Now thou com'st home to me; a kiss for that word. Bian. No matter for a kiss, sir; let it pass; "Tis but a toy, we'll not so much as mind it; Let's talk of other business, and forget it. Moth. (Aside.) I am glad he's here yet Lean. Speak, what's the humour, sweet, You make your lips so strange? This was not wont. Bian. Is there no kindness betwixt man and wife, Unless they make a pigeon-house of friendship, That ever was invented; and 'tis pity It's grown a fashion for poor gentlewomen; There's many a disease kiss'd in a year by't, Lean. How? a whole fortnight! why, is that so long? Moth. (Aside.) Here's one fits him ; This was well catch'd i' faith, son, like a fellow Who knocks? [A Messenger from the Duke knocks within. Lean. Who's there now? Withdraw you, Biancha; [Exit Biancha." The Witch of Middleton is his most remarkable performance; both on its own account, and from the use that Shakespear has made of some of the characters and speeches in his Macbeth. Though the employment which Middleton has given to Hecate and the rest, in thwarting the purposes and perplexing the business of familiar and domestic life, is not so grand or appalling as the more stupendous agency which Shakespear has assigned them, yet it is not easy to deny the merit of the first invention to Middleton, who has embodied the existing superstitions of the time, respecting that anomalous class of beings, with a high spirit of poetry, of the most grotesque and fanciful kind. The songs and incantations made use of are very nearly the same. The other parts of this play are not so good; and the solution of the principal difficulty, by Antonio's falling down a trap-door, most lame and impotent. As a specimen of the similarity of the preternatural machinery, I shall here give one entire scene. "The Witches' Habitation. Enter Heccat, Stadlin, Hoppo, and other Witches. Hec. The moon's a gallant: see how brisk she rides. Hec. Aye, is't not, wenches, To take a journey of five thousand miles? Hop. Our's will be more to-night. Hec. Oh, 'twill be precious. Heard you the owl yet? As we came thro' now. Hec. 'Tis high time for us then. Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times As we came thro' the woods, and drank her fill: Old Puckle saw her. Hec. You are fortunate still, The very scritch-owl lights upon your shoulder, you your ointments? Stad. All. Hec. Prepare to flight then. I'll overtake you swiftly. We shall be up betimes. Hec. I'll reach you quickly. [They ascend. Enter Firestone. Fire. They are all going a birding to-night. They talk of fowls i' th' air, that fly by day, I'm sure they'll be a company of foul sluts there to-night. If we have not mortality affeared, I'll be hang'd, for they are able to putrify it, to infect a whole region. She spies me now. Hec. What, Firestone, our sweet son? Fire. A little sweeter than some of you; or a dunghill were too good for me. Hec. How much hast there? Fire. Nineteen, and all brave plump ones; besides six lizards, and three serpentine eggs. Hec. Dear and sweet boy! What herbs hast thou? Hec. Marmarittin, and mandragora, thou would'st say. Fire. Here's pannax too. I thank thee; my pan akes, I am sure, with kneeling down to cut 'em. Hec. And selago, Hedge-hissop too! How near he goes my cuttings! Fire. Every blade of 'em, or I am a moon-calf, mother. Look well to th' 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 are indeed. Help me! Help me! I'm too late else. SONG, (in the air above). Come away, come away! Heccat, Heccat, come away! (A Spirit descends in the shape of a Cat). (Above). There's one come down to fetch his dues; A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood; Hec. And why thou stay'st so long, I muse, I muse, Oh, art thou come, What news, what news? Spirit. All goes still to our delight, Hec. Fire. Either come, or else Refuse, refuse. Now I am furnish'd for the flight. Hark, hark! The cat sings a brave treble in her own language. Hec. (Ascending with the Spirit). Now I go, now I fly, Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I. Oh, what a dainty pleasure 'tis To ride in the air When the moon shines fair, And sing, and dance, and toy, and kiss! Over woods, high rocks, and mountains, |