An' they do not, I'll tear some of their perriwigs beside their heads. This is all riff-raff]

TRAITOROUS NATURE OF SADNESS, AND VITALITY OF MIRTH. Merrythought (sings). When it was grown to dark midnight,

And all were fast asleep,

In came Margaret's grimly ghost,

And stood at William's feet.

I have money, and meat, and drink, before-hand, till tomorrow at noon; why should I be sad? Methinks I have half-a-dozen jovial spirits within me. [Sings.] "I am three merry men, and three merry men!”—To what end should any man be sad in this world? I have seen a man come by my door with a serious face, in a black cloak, without a hat-band, carrying his head as if he look'd for pins in the street. I have look'd out of my window half-a-year after, and have spied that man's head upon London-bridge. 'Tis vile. Never trust a tailor that does not sing at his work: his mind. is on nothing but filching.

[Wife. Mark this, George! 'tis worth noting. Godfrey, my tailor, you know, never sings; and he had fourteen yards to make this gown, and I'll be sworn, mistress Penistone, the draper's wife, had one made with twelve.]

Mer.

"Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,

More than wine, or sleep, or food:

Let each man keep his heart at ease;
No man dies of that disease.

He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep;
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never he his body brings
Into fevers, gouts, or rheums,
Or ling'ringly his lungs consumes,
Or meets with achès in the bone,

Or catarrhs, or griping stone,

But contented lives for aye;

The more he laughs, the more he may.

["The Knight of the Burning Pestle of Beaumont and Fletcher is an incomparable and singular work in its kind. It is a parody of the chivalry romances; the thought is borrowed from Don Quixote, but the imitation is handled with freedom, and so particularly applied to Spenser's

Fairy Queen (query, the old stage plays and story-books?) that it may pass for a second invention. But the peculiarly ingenious novelty of the piece consists in the combination of the irony of a chimerical abuse of poetry, with another irony exactly the contrary, of the incapacity to comprehend any fable, and the dramatic form more particularly. A grocer and his wife come as spectators to the theatre; they are discontented with the piece which has just been announced; they demand a play in honour of the Corporation, and Ralph, their apprentice, is to act a principal part in it. They are well received; but still they are not satisfied, make their observations on everything, and incessantly address themselves to the players. Ben Jonson had already exhibited imaginary spectators, but they were either benevolent expounders, or awkward censurers, of the views of the poet; consequently they always conducted his, the poet's, own cause. But the grocer and his wife represent a whole genus; namely, those unpoetical spectators who are destitute of a feeling for art. The illusion with them becomes a passive error; the subject represented has all the effect of reality on them; they therefore resign themselves to the impression of each moment, and take part for or against the persons of the drama: on the other hand, they show themselves insensible to all genuine illusion,—that is, of entering vividly into. the spirit of the fable. Ralph, however heroically and chivalrously he may conduct himself, is always for them Ralph their apprentice: and they take upon them, in the whim of the moment, to demand scenes which are quite inconsistent with the plan of the piece that has commenced. In short, the views and demands with which poets are often oppressed by a prosaical public are personified in the most ingenious and amusing manner in these caricatures of spectators."-SCHLEGEL, as above, Bohn's edition, p. 473.]

CUPID'S REVENGE.

A GODLIKE APPEARANCE.

He is like

Nothing that we have seen, yet doth resemble
Apollo, as I oft have fancied him,

When rising from his bed he stirs himself,
And shakes day from his hair.

EXCESS OF PROVOCATION.

The usage I have had, I know, would make
Wisdom herself run frantic through the streets,

And Patience quarrel with her shadow.

SIMPLE AND TRUTHFUL DEATH FOR LOVE.

Leucippus and Urania; the latter, who is disguised as his page, hanng swooned.

Leuc. How dost thou ?

Let not thy misery vex me; thou shalt have
What thy poor heart can wish: I am a prince,
And I will keep thee in the gayest clothes,
And the finest things that ever pretty boy
Had given him.

Urania. I know you well enough.

'Faith, I am dying; and now you know all too. Leuc. But stir thyself. Look, what a jewel here is ; See how it glisters! what a pretty show

Will this make in thy little ear! ha, speak!
Eat but a bit, and take it.

Ura. Do you not know me?

Leuc. I pr'ythee mind thy health! why, that's well said; My good boy, smile still.

Ura. I shall smile till death,

An' I see you.

Leuc. How!

Ura. I am Urania.

I am Urania.

Leuc. Dulness did seize me! now I know thee well:
Alas, why cam'st thou hither?

Ura. 'Faith, for love:

I would not let you know till I was dying;
For you could not love me, my mother was
So naught.

[Dres.

THIERRY AND THEODORET.

TEARS, GOOD AND EVIL.

Theodoret. But that I know these tears, I could dote on 'em,

And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em

Into an armlet, ever to be honour'd:

But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitful,

Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.

A COWARD PROVED AND EXPOSED.

Enter King, THIERRY, and THEODORET, from hunting.
Theod. This stag stood well, and cunningly.
Thierry. My horse,

I am sure, has found it, for his sides are blooded
From flank to shoulder. Where's the troop?
Enter MARTELL.

Theod. Pass'd homeward,

Weary and tired as we are.-Now, Martell;
Have remember'd what we thought of?

you

Thi. What is that?

May not I know too? Theod. Yes, sir; to that end

We cast the project.

Thi. What is't?

Mart. A desire, sir,

Upon the gilded flag your grace's favour
Has stuck up for a general; and to inform you
(For this hour he shall pass the test) what valour,
Staid judgment, soul, or safe discretion,
Your mother's wandering eyes, and your obedience,
Have flung upon us; to assure your knowledge,
He can be, dare be, shall be, must be, nothing
(Load him with piles of honours, set him off
With all the cunning foils that may deceive us)
But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmanner'd,
Unhonest, unaffected, undone fool,

And most unheard-of coward.

Thi. No more! I know him ;

I now repent my error.

Take your time,

And try him home, ever thus far reserved,

You tie your anger up!

Mart. I lose it else, sir.

Thi. Bring me his sword fair-taken without violence

(For that will best declare him)—

Theod. That's the thing.

Thi. And my best horse is thine.

Mart. Your grace's servant!

[Exit.

Theod. You'll hunt no more, sir ?

Thi. Not to-day; the weather

ls grown too warm; besides, the dogs are spent:
We'll take a cooler morning. Let's to horse,
And halloo in the troop!

[Exeunt. Wind horns.

Enter Two Huntsmen, and to them PROTALDYE.

Prot. How now, keepers?

Saw you the king?

1 Hunts. Yes, sir; he's newly mounted,

And, as we take it, ridden home.

Prot. Farewell then!

Enter MARTELL.

[Exeunt Huntsmen.

Mart. My honour'd lord, fortune has made me happy
To meet with such a man of men to side me.

Prot. How, sir? I know you not,

Nor what your fortune means.

Mart. Few words shall serve.

I am betray'd, sir; innocent and honest,
Malice and violence are both against me,
Basely and foully laid for; for my life, sir!
Danger is now about me, now in my throat, sir.
Prot. Where, sir?

Mart. Nay, I fear not;

And let it now pour down in storms upon me,
I have met a noble guard.

Prot. Your meaning, sir?

For I have present business.

Mart. Oh, my lord,

Your honour cannot leave a gentleman,

At least a fair design of this brave nature,

To which your worth is wedded, your profession
Hatch'd in, and made one piece, in such a peril.
There are but six, my lord.

Prot. What six ?

Mart. Six villains;

Sworn, and in pay to kill me.

Prot. Six ?

Mart. Alas, sir,