Mr. Lilly has writ the following dramatic pieces;

Alexander and Campaspe, a tragical comedy; play'd before the Queen's Majesty on twelfth-night, by her Majesty's children, and the children of St. Paul's, and afterwards at the Black Fryars; printed in 12mo. London, 1632. The story of Alexander's bestowing Campaspe, in the enamoured Apelles, is related by Pliny in his Natural History. Lib. xxxv. L. x.

Endymion, a Comedy, presented before Queen Elizabeth, by the children of her Majesty's chaple, printed in 12mo. 1632. The story of Endymion's being beloved by the moon, with comments upon it, may be met with in most of the Mythologists. See Lucian's Dialogues, between Venus and the Moon. Mr. Gambauld has writ a romance called Endymion, translated into English, 8vo. 1639.

Galathea, a Comedy, played before the Queen at Greenwich on New year's day, at night, by the children of St. Paul's, printed in 12mo. London, 1632. In the characters of Galathea and Philidia, the poet has copied the story of Iphis and Ianthe, which the reader may find at large in the ninth book of Ovid's Metamorphosis.

Maid's Metamorphosis, a Comedy, acted by the children of St. Paul's, printed in 12mo. 1632.

Mydas, a Comedy, played before the Queen on Twelfth-night, printed in 12mo. London, 1632. For the story, see the xith book of Ovid's Metamorphosis.

Sappho and Phaon, a Comedy, played before the queen on Shrove-Tuesday, by the children of Paul's, and afterwards at Black-Fryars, printed in Twelves, London 1632. This story the reader may learn from Ovid's Epistles, of Sappho to Phaon, Ep. 21.

Woman in the Moon, presented before the Queen, London 1667. Six of these plays, viz. Alexander and Campaspe, Endymion, Galathea and Mydas, Sappho and Phaon, with Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by the same author, are printed together under the title of the Six Court-Comedies, 12mo, London 1632, and dedicated by Mr. Blount, to the lord viscount Lumly of Waterford; the other two are printed singly in Quarto.——He also wrote Loves Metamorphosis, a courtly pastoral, printed 1601.

* * * * *

Sir THOMAS OVERBURY

Was son of Nicholas Overbury, Esq; of Burton in Gloucestershire, one of the Judges of the Marches[1]. He was born with very bright parts, and gave early discoveries of a rising genius. In 1595, the 14th year of his age, he became a gentleman commoner in Queen's-College in Oxford, and in 1598, as a 'squire's son, he took the degree of batchelor of arts; he removed from thence to the Middle-Temple, in order to study the municipal law, but did not long remain there[2]. His genius, which was of a sprightly kind, could not bear the confinement of a student, or the drudgery of reading law; he abandoned it therefore, and travelled into France, where he so improved himself in polite accomplishments, that when he returned he was looked upon as one of the most finished gentlemen about court.

Soon after his arrival in England, he contracted an intimacy, which afterwards grew into friendship with Sir Robert Carre, a Scotch gentleman, a favourite with king James, and afterwards earl of Somerset. Such was the warmth of friendship in which these two gentlemen lived, that they were inseparable. Carre could enter into no scheme, nor pursue any measures, without the advice and concurrence of Overbury, nor could Overbury enjoy any felicity but in the company of him he loved; their friendship was the subject of court-conversation, and their genius seemed so much alike, that it was reasonable to suppose no breach could ever be produced between them; but such it seems is the power of woman, such the influence of beauty, that even the sacred ties of friendship are broke asunder by the magic energy of these superior charms. Carre fell in love with lady Frances Howard, daughter to the Earl of Suffolk, and lately divorced from the Earl of Essex[3]. He communicated his passion to his friend, who was too penetrating not to know that no man could live with much comfort, with a woman of the Countess's stamp, of whose morals he had a bad opinion; he insinuated to Carre some suspicions, and those well founded, against her honour; he dissuaded him with all the warmth of the sincerest friendship, to desist from a match that would involve him in misery, and not to suffer his passion for her beauty to have so much sway over him, as to make him sacrifice his peace to its indulgence.

Carre, who was desperately in love, forgetting the ties of honour as well as friendship, communicated to the lady, what Overbury had said of her, and they who have read the heart of woman, will be at no loss to conceive what reception she gave that unwelcome report. She knew, that Carre was immoderately attached to Overbury, that he was directed by his Council in all things, and devoted to his interest.

Earth has no curse like love to hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn'd.

This was literally verified in the case of the countess; she let loose all the rage of which she was capable against him, and as she panted for the consummation of the match between Carre and her, she so influenced the Viscount, that he began to conceive a hatred likewise to Overbury; and while he was thus subdued by the charms of a wicked woman, he seemed to change his nature, and from the gentle, easy, accessible, good-natured man he formerly appeared, he degenerated into the sullen, vindictive, and implacable. One thing with respect to the countess ought not to be omitted. She was wife of the famous Earl of Essex, who afterwards headed the army of the parliament against the King, and to whom the imputation of impotence was laid. The Countess, in order to procure a divorce from her husband, gave it out that tho' she had been for some time in a married state, she was yet a virgin, and which it seems sat very uneasy upon her. To prove this, a jury of matrons were to examine her and give their opinion, whether she was, or was not a Virgin: This scrutiny the Countess did not care to undergo, and therefore entreated the favour that she might enter masked to save her blushes; this was granted her, and she took care to have a young Lady provided, of much the same size and exterior appearance, who personated her, and the jury asserted her to be an unviolated Virgin. This precaution in the Countess, no doubt, diminishes her character, and is a circumstance not favourable to her honour; for if her husband had been really impotent as she pretended, she needed not have been afraid of the search; and it proves that she either injured her husband, by falsely aspersing him, or that she had violated her honour with other men. But which ever of these causes prevailed, had the Countess been wise enough, she had no occasion to fear the consequences of a scrutiny; for if I am rightly informed, a jury of old women can no more judge accurately whether a woman has yielded her virginity, than they can by examining a dead body, know of what distemper the deceased died; but be that as it may, the whole affair is unfavourable to her modesty; it shews her a woman of irregular passions, which poor Sir Thomas Overbury dearly experienced; for even after the Countess was happy in the embraces of the Earl of Somerset, she could not forbear the persecution of him; she procured that Sir Thomas should be nominated by the King to go ambassador to Russia, a destination she knew would displease him, it being then no better than a kind of honourable grave; she likewise excited Earl Somerset to seem again his friend, and to advise him strongly to refuse the embassy, and at the fame time insinuate, that if he should, it would only be lying a few weeks in the Tower, which to a man well provided in all the necessaries, as well as comforts of Life, had no great terror in it. This expedient Sir Thomas embraced, and absolutely refused to go abroad; upon which, on the twenty-first of April 1613, he was sent prisoner to the Tower, and put under the care of Sir Gervis Yelvis, then lord lieutenant. The Countess being so far successful, began now to conceive great hopes of compleating her scheme of assassination, and drew over the Earl of Somerset her husband, to her party, and he who a few years before, had obtained the honour of knighthood for Overbury, was now so enraged against him, that he coincided in taking measures to murder his friend. Sir Gervis Yelvis, who obtained the lieutenancy by Somerset's interest, was a creature devoted to his pleasure. He was a needy man, totally destitute of any principles of honour, and was easily prevailed upon to forward a scheme for destroying poor Overbury by poison. Accordingly they consulted with one Mrs. Turner, the first inventer (says Winstanley of that horrid garb of yellow ruffs and cuffs, and in which garb he was afterwards hanged) who having acquaintance with one James Franklin, a man who it seems was admirably fitted to be a Cut-throat, agreed with him to provide that which would not kill presently, but cause one to languish away by degrees. The lieutenant being engaged in the conspiracy, admits one Weston, Mrs. Turner's man, who under pretence of waiting on Sir Thomas, was to do the horrid deed. The plot being thus formed, and success promising so fair, Franklin buys various poisons, White Arsenick, Mercury-Sublimate, Cantharides, Red-Mercury, with three or four other deadly ingredients, which he delivered to Weston, with instructions how to use them; who put them into his broth and meat, increasing and diminishing their strength according as he saw him affected; besides these, the Countess sent him by way of present, poisoned tarts and jellies: but Overbury being of a strong constitution, held long out against their influence: his body broke out in blotches and blains, which occasioned the report industriously propagated by Somerset, of his having died of the French Disease. At last they produced his death by the application of a poisoned clyster, by which he next day in painful agonies expired. Thus (says Winstanley) "by the malice of a woman that worthy Knight was murthered, who yet still lives in that witty poem of his, entitled, A Wife, as is well expressed by the verses under his picture."

A man's best fortune or his worst's a wife, Yet I, that knew no marriage, peace nor strife Live by a good one, by a bad one lost my life.

Of all crimes which the heart of man conceives, as none is so enormous as murder, so it more frequently meets punishment in this life than any other. This barbarous assassination was soon revealed; for notwithstanding what the conspirators had given out, suspicions ran high that Sir Thomas was poisoned; upon which Weston was strictly examined by Lord Cook, who before his lordship persisted in denying the same; but the Bishop of London afterwards conversing with him, pressing the thing home to his conscience, and opening all the terrors of another life to his mind, he was moved to confess the whole. He related how Mrs. Turner and the Countess became acquainted, and discovered all those who were any way concerned in it; upon which they were all apprehended, and some sent to Newgate, and others to the Tower. Having thus confessed, and being convicted according to due course of law, he was hanged at Tyburn, after him Mrs. Turner, after her Franklin, then Sir Gervis Yelvis, being found guilty on their several arraignments, were executed; some of them died penitent. The Earl and the Countess were both condemned, but notwithstanding their guilt being greater than any of the other criminals, the King, to the astonishment of all his subjects, forgave them, but they were both forbid to appear at court.

There was something strangely unaccountable in the behaviour of Somerset after condemnation. When he was asked what he thought of his condition, and if he was preparing to die, he answered, that he thought not of it at all, for he was sure the King durst not command him to be executed. This ridiculous boasting and bidding defiance to his majesty's power, was construed by some in a very odd manner; and there were not wanting those who asserted, that Somerset was privy to a secret of the King's, which if it had been revealed, would have produced the strangest consternation in the kingdom that ever was known, and drawn down infamy upon his majesty for ever; but as nothing can be ascertained concerning it, it might seem unfair to impute to this silly Prince more faults than he perhaps committed: It is certain he was the slave of his favourites, and not the most shocking crime in them, it seems, could entirely alienate his affections, and it is doubtful whether the saving of Somerset or the execution of Raleigh reflects most disgrace upon his reign. Some have said, that the body of Sir Thomas Overbury was thrown into an obscure pit; but Wood, says it appears from the Tower registers, that it was interred in the chapel; which seems more probable. There is an epitaph which Winstanley has preserved, written by our author upon himself, which I shall here insert, as it serves to illustrate his versification.

The span of my days measured here I rest, That is, my body; but my soul, his guest Is hence ascended, whither, neither time, Nor faith, nor hope, but only love can climb, Where being new enlightened, she doth know The truth, of all men argue of below: Only this dust, doth here in pawn remain, That when the world dissolves, she come again.

The works of Overbury besides his Wife, which is reckoned the wittiest and most finished of all, are, first Characters, or witty descriptions of the prophesies of sundry persons. This piece has relation to some characters of his own time, which can afford little satisfaction to a modern reader.

Second, The Remedy of Love in two parts, a poem 1620, Octavo, 2s.

Third, Observations in his Travels, on the State. of the seventeen Provinces, as they stood anno 1609.

Fourth, Observations on the Provinces united, and the state of France, printed London 1631.

Sir Thomas was about 32 years old when he was murthered, and is said to have possessed an accuteness, and strength of parts that was astonishing; and some have related that he was proud of his abilities, and over-bearing in company; but as there is no good authority for the assertion, it is more agreeable to candour to believe him the amiable knight Winstanley draws him; as it seldom happens that a soul formed for the noble quality of friendship is haughty and insolent. There is a tragedy of Sir Thomas Overbury wrote by the late Richard Savage, son of earl Rivers, which was acted in 1723, (by what was then usually called The Summer Company) with success; of which we shall speak more at large in the life of that unfortunate gentleman.

[Footnote 1: Wood Athen. Oxon.]

[Footnote 2: Winst. ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3: Winst. ubi supra.]

* * * * *

JOHN MARSTEN.

There are few things on record concerning this poet's life. Wood says, that he was a student in Corpus-Christi College, Oxon; but in what country he was born, or of what family descended, is no where fixed. Mr. Langbain says, he can recover no other information of him, than what he learned from the testimony of his bookseller, which is, "That he was free from all obscene speeches, which is the chief cause of making plays odious to virtuous and modest persons; but he abhorred such writers and their works, and professed himself an enemy to all such as stuffed their scenes with ribaldry, and larded their lines with scurrilous taunts, and jests, so that whatsoever even in the spring of his years he presented upon the private and public theatre, in his autumn and declining age he needed not to to be ashamed of." He lived in friendship with the famous Ben Johnson, as appears by his addressing to his name a tragi-comedy, called Male-Content: but we afterwards find him reflecting pretty severely on Ben, on account of his Cataline and Sejanus, as the reader will find on the perusal of Marsten's Epistle, prefixed to Sophonisba.—"Know, says he, that I have not laboured in this poem, to relate any thing as an historian, but to enlarge every thing as a poet. To transcribe authors, quote authorities, and to translate Latin prose orations into English blank verse, hath in this subject been the least aim of my studies."——Langbain observes, that none who are acquainted with the works of Johnson can doubt that he is meant here, if they will compare the orations in Salust with those in Cataline. On what provocation Marsten thus censured his friend is unknown, but the practice has been too frequently pursued, so true is it, as Mr. Gay observes of the wits, that they are oft game cocks to one another, and sometimes verify the couplet.

That they are still prepared to praise or to abhor us, Satire they have, and panegyric for us.——

Marsten has contributed eight plays to the stage, which were all acted at the Black Fryars with applause, and one of them called the Dutch Courtezan, was once revived since the Restoration, under the title of the Revenge, or a Match in [1]Newgate. In the year 1633 six of this author's plays were collated and published in one volume, and dedicated to the lady viscountess Faulkland. His dramatic works are these:

Antonio and Melida, a history, acted by the children of St. Paul's, printed in 1633.

Antonius's Revenge; or the second part of Antonio and Melida. These two plays were printed in Octavo several years before the new edition.

Dutch Courtezan, a comedy frequently played at Black Fryars, by the children of the Queen's Revels, printed in London 1633. It is taken from a French book called Les Contes du Mende. See the same story in English, in a book of Novels, called the Palace of Pleasure in the last Novel.

Insatiate Countess, a Tragedy, acted at White-Fryars, printed in Quarto 1603, under the title of Isabella the insatiable countess of Suevia. It is said that he meant Joan the first queen of Jerusalem, Naples, and Sicily. The life of this queen has employed many pens, both on poetry and novels. Bandello has related her story under the title of the Inordinate Life of the Countess of Celant. The like story is related in God's Revenge against Adultery, under the name of Anne of Werdenberg, duchess of Ulme.

Male Content, a Tragi Comedy, dedicated to old Ben, as I have already taken notice, in which he heaps many fine epithets upon him. The first design of this play was laid by Mr. Webster.

Parasitaster; or the Fawn, a comedy, often presented at the Black Fryars, by the children of the queen's Revels, printed in Octavo 1633. This play was formerly printed in quarto, 1606. The Plot of Dulcimers cozening the Duke by a pretended discovery of Tiberco's love to her, is taken from Boccace's Novels.

What you will, a comedy, printed Octavo, London, 1653. This is said to be one of our author's best plays. The design taken from Plautus's Amphitrion.

Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba, a tragedy, acted at Black Fryars, printed in Octavo, 1633. The English reader will find this story described by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his history of the world. B. 5.

Besides his dramatic poetry he writ three books of Satires, entitled, The Scourge of Villany, printed in Octavo, London 1598. We have no account in what year our author died, but we find that his works were published after his death by the great Shakespear, and it may perhaps be reasonably concluded that it was about the year 1614.

[Footnote 1: The late Mr. C. Bullock, a comedian, and some time manager of Lincoln's-Inn-Fields theatre, made a play from that piece.]

* * * * *

WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.

There have been some ages in which providence seemed pleased in a most remarkable manner to display it self, in giving to the world the finest genius's to illuminate a people formerly barbarous. After a long night of Gothic ignorance, after many ages of priestcraft and superstition, learning and genius visited our Island in the days of the renowned Queen Elizabeth. It was then that liberty began to dawn, and the people having shook off the restraints of priestly austerity, presumed to think for themselves. At an AEra so remarkable as this, so famous in history, it seems no wonder that the nation would be blessed with those immortal ornaments of wit and learning, who all conspired at once to make it famous.——This astonishing genius, seemed to be commissioned from above, to deliver us not only from the ignorance under which we laboured as to poetry, but to carry poetry almost to its perfection. But to write a panegyric on Shakespear appears as unnecessary, as the attempt would be vain; for whoever has any taste for what is great, terrible, or tender, may meet with the amplest gratification in Shakespear; as may those also have a taste for drollery and true humour. His genius was almost boundless, and he succeeded alike in every part of writing. I cannot forbear giving the character of Shakespear in the words of a great genius, in a prologue spoken by Mr. Garrick when he first opened Drury-lane house as Manager.

When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes, First rear'd the stage;——immortal Shakespear rose, Each change of many-coloured life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new, Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting time toiled after him, in vain.

All men have discovered a curiosity to know the little stories and particularities of a great genius; for it often happens, that when we attend a man to his closet, and watch his moments of solitude, we shall find such expressions drop from him, or we may observe such instances of peculiar conduct, as will let us more into his real character, than ever we can discover while we converse with him in public, and when perhaps he appears under a kind of mask. There are but few things known of this great man; few incidents of his life have descended to posterity, and tho' no doubt the fame of his abilities made a great noise in the age in which he flourished; yet his station was not such as to produce many incidents, as it was subject to but few vicissitudes. Mr. Rowe, who well understood, and greatly admired Shakespear, has been at pains to collect what incidents were known, or were to be found concerning him, and it is chiefly upon Mr. Rowe's authority we build the account now given.

Our author was the son of John Shakespear, and was born at Stratford upon Avon in Warwickshire, April 1564, at it appears by public records relating to that town. The family from which he is descended was of good figure and fashion there, and are mentioned as gentlemen. His father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, being incumbred with a large family of ten children, could afford to give his eldest son but a slender education. He had bred him at a free school, where he acquired what Latin he was master of, but how well he understood that language, or whether after his leaving the school he made greater proficiency in it, has been disputed and is a point very difficult to settle. However it is certain, that Mr. John Shakespear, our author's father, was obliged to withdraw him early from school, in order to have his assistance in his own employment, towards supporting the rest of the family. "It is without controversy, says Rowe, that in his works we scarce find any traces that look like an imitation of the ancients. The delicacy of his taste, and the natural bent of his own great genius, equal, if not superior to some of the best of theirs, would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much pleasure, that some of their fine images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mixed with his own writings; so that his not copying at least something from them, may be an argument of his never having read them. Whether his ignorance of the ancients was disadvantageous to him or no, may admit of dispute; for tho' the knowledge of them might have made him more correct, yet it is not improbable, but that the regularity and deference for them which would have attended that correctness, might have restrained some of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful extravagance, which we cannot help admiring in Shakespear."

As to his want of learning, Mr. Pope makes the following just observation: That there is certainly a vast difference between learning and languages. How far he was ignorant of the latter, I cannot (says he) determine; but it is plain he had much reading, at least, if they will not call it learning; nor is it any great matter if a man has knowledge, whether he has it from one language or from another. Nothing is more evident, than that he had a taste for natural philosophy, mechanics, ancient and modern history, poetical learning, and mythology. We find him very knowing in the customs, rites, and manners of the Romans. In Coriolanus, and Julius Caesar, not only the spirit but manners of the Romans are exactly drawn; and still a nicer distinction is shewn between the manners of the Romans in the time of the former and the latter. His reading in the ancient historians is no less conspicuous, in many references to particular passages; and the speeches copied from Plutarch in Coriolanus may as well be made instances of his learning as those copied from Cicero in the Cataline of Ben Johnson. The manners of other nations in general, the AEgyptians, Venetians, French, &c. are drawn with equal propriety. Whatever object of nature, or branch of science, he either speaks or describes, it is always with competent, if not extensive, knowledge. His descriptions are still exact, and his metaphors appropriated, and remarkably drawn from the nature and inherent qualities of each subject.——We have translations from Ovid published in his name, among those poems which pass for his, and for some of which we have undoubted authority, being published by himself, and dedicated to the Earl of Southampton. He appears also to have been conversant with Plautus, from whence he has taken the plot of one of his plays; he follows the Greek authors, and particularly Dares Phrygius in another, although I will not pretend, continues Mr. Pope, to say in what language he read them.

Mr. Warburton has strongly contended for Shakespear's learning, and has produced many imitations and parallel passages with ancient authors, in which I am inclined to think him right, and beg leave to produce few instances of it. He always, says Mr. Warbur-ton, makes an ancient speak the language of an ancient. So Julius Caesar, Act I. Scene II.

——Ye Gods, it doth amazs me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone.

This noble image is taken from the Olympic games. This majestic world is a fine periphrasis of the Roman Empire; majestic, because the Romans ranked themselves on a footing with kings, and a world, because they called their empire Orbis Romanus; but the whole story seems to allude to Caesar's great exemplar, Alexander, who, when he was asked whether he would run the course of the Olympic games, replied, 'Yes, if the racers were kings.'—So again in Anthony and Cleopatra, Act I. Scene I. Anthony says with an astonishing sublimity,

Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide arch Of the razed Empire fall.

Taken from the Roman custom of raising triumphal arches to perpetuate their victories.

And again, Act III. Scene IV. Octavia says to Anthony, of the difference between him and her brother,

"Wars 'twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the reft"——

This thought seems taken from the story of Curtius leaping into the Chasm in the Forum, in order to close it, so that, as that was closed by one Roman, if the whole world were to cleave, Romans only could solder it up. The metaphor of soldering is extreamly exact, according to Mr. Warburton; for, says he, as metal is soldered up by metal that is more refined than that which it solders, so the earth was to be soldered by men, who are only a more refined earth.

The manners of other nations in general, the Egyptians, Venetians, French, etc. are drawn with equal propriety. An instance of this shall be produced with regard to the Venetians. In the Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Scene I.

——His losses That have of late so huddled on his back, Enough to press a royal merchant down.

We are not to imagine the word royal to be a random sounding epithet. It is used with great propriety by the poet, and designed to shew him well acquainted with the history of the people, whom he here brings upon the stage. For when the French and Venetians in the beginning of the thirteenth century, had won Constantinople, the French under the Emperor Henry endeavoured to extend their conquests, in the provinces of the Grecian empire on the Terra firma, while the Venetians being masters of the sea, gave liberty to any subject of the Republic, who would fit out vessels to make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelago and other maritime places, to enjoy their conquests in sovereignty, only doing homage to the Republic for their several principalities. In pursuance of this licence the Sanudo's, the Justiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripa's, and others, all Venetian merchants, erected principalities in the several places of the Archipelago, and thereby became truly, and properly Royal Merchants.

But there are several places which one cannot forbear thinking a translation from classic writers.

In the Tempest Act V. Scene II. Prospero says,

————I have——— Called forth the mutinous winds And 'twixt the green sea, and the azured vault Set roaring war; to the dread ratling thunder, Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak, With his own bolt; the strong bas'd promontory, Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt up The pine and cedar; graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, op'd and let them forth By my so potent art.

So Medea in Ovid's Metamorphoses,

Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello, Nubilaque induco, ventos abigoque, vocoque; Vivaque faxa sua convulsaque robora terra Et sylvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes, Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.

But to return to the incidents of his life: Upon his quitting the grammar school, he seems, to have entirely devoted himself to that way of living which his father proposed, and in order to settle in the world after a family manner, thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one Hatchway, said to have been a substantial Yeoman in the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this kind of domestic obscurity he continued for some time, till by an unhappy instance of misconduct, he was obliged to quit the place of his nativity, and take shelter in London, which luckily proved the occasion of displaying one of the greatest genius's that ever was known in dramatic poetry. He had the misfortune to fall into ill company: Among these were some who made a frequent practice of Deer-stealing, and who engaged him more than once in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot near Stratford; for which he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge himself of this supposed ill usage, he made a ballad upon him; and tho' this, probably the first essay of his poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution against him to that degree, that he was obliged to leave his business and family for some time, and shelter himself in London. This Sir Thomas Lucy, was, it is said, afterwards ridiculed by Shakespear, under the well known character of Justice Shallow.

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the playhouse. Here I cannot forbear relating a story which Sir William Davenant told Mr. Betterton, who communicated it to Mr. Rowe; Rowe told it Mr. Pope, and Mr. Pope told it to Dr. Newton, the late editor of Milton, and from a gentleman, who heard it from him, 'tis here related.

Concerning Shakespear's first appearance in the playhouse. When he came to London, he was without money and friends, and being a stranger he knew not to whom to apply, nor by what means to support himself.——At that time coaches not being in use, and as gentlemen were accustomed to ride to the playhouse, Shakespear, driven to the last necessity, went to the playhouse door, and pick'd up a little money by taking care of the gentlemens horses who came to the play; he became eminent even in that profession, and was taken notice of for his diligence and skill in it; he had soon more business than he himself could manage, and at last hired boys under him, who were known by the name of Shakespear's boys: Some of the players accidentally conversing with him, found him so acute, and master of so fine a conversation, that struck therewith, they and recommended him to the house, in which he was first admitted in a very low station, but he did not long remain so, for he soon distinguished himself, if not as an extraordinary actor, at least as a fine writer. His name is painted, as the custom was in those times, amongst those of the other players, before some old plays, but without any particular account of what sort of parts he used to play: and Mr. Rowe says, "that tho' he very carefully enquired, he found the top of his performance was the ghost in his own Hamlet." "I should have been much more pleased," continues Rowe, "to have learned from some certain authority which was the first play he writ; it would be without doubt, a pleasure to any man curious in things of this kind, to see and know what was the first essay of a fancy like Shakespear's." The highest date which Rowe has been able to trace, is Romeo and Juliet, in 1597, when the author was thirty-three years old; and Richard II and III the next year, viz. the thirty-fourth of his age. Tho' the order of time in which his several pieces were written be generally uncertain, yet there are passages in some few of them, that seem to fix their dates. So the chorus at the end of the fourth act of Henry V by a compliment very handsomely turned to the Earl of Essex, shews the play to have been written when that Lord was general to the queen in Ireland; and his eulogium upon Queen Elizabeth, and her successor King James in the latter end of his Henry VIII is a proof of that play's being written after the accession of the latter of these two princes to the throne of England. Whatever the particular times of his writing were, the people of the age he lived in, who began to grow wonderfully fond of diversions of this kind, could not but be highly pleased to see a genius arise amongst them, of so pleasurable, so rich a vein, and and so plentifully capable of furnishing their favourite entertainments. Besides the advantage which Shakespear had over all men in the article of wit, he was of a sweet, gentle, amiable disposition, and was a most agreeable companion; so that he became dear to all that knew him, both as a friend and as a poet, and by that means was introduced to the best company, and held conversation with the finest characters of his time. Queen Elizabeth had several of his plays acted before her, and that princess was too quick a discerner, and rewarder of merit, to suffer that of Shakespear to be neglected. It is that maiden princess plainly whom he intends by

——A fair vestal, throned by the West.

Midsummer night dream.

And in the same play he gives us a poetical and lively representation of the Queen of Scots, and the fate she met with,

——Thou rememb'rest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a sea-maid on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.

Queen Elizabeth was so well pleased with the admirable character of Falstaff in the two parts of Henry IV. that she commanded him to continue it in one play more, and to make him in love. This is said to have been the occasion of his writing the Merry Wives of Windsor. How well she was obeyed, the play itself is a proof; and here I cannot help observing, that a poet seldom succeeds in any subject assigned him, so well as that which is his own choice, and where he has the liberty of selecting: Nothing is more certain than that Shakespear has failed in the Merry Wives of Windsor. And tho' that comedy is not without merit, yet it falls short of his other plays in which Falstaff is introduced, and that Knight is not half so witty in the Merry Wives of Windsor as in Henry IV. The humour is scarcely natural, and does not excite to laughter so much as the other. It appears by the epilogue to Henry IV. that the part of Falstaff was written originally under the name of Oldcastle. Some of that family being then remaining, the Queen was pleased to command him to alter it, upon which he made use of the name of Falstaff. The first offence was indeed avoided, but I am not sure whether the author might not be somewhat to blame in his second choice, since it is certain, that Sir John Falstaff who was a knight of the garter, and a lieutenant-general, was a name of distinguished merit in the wars with France, in Henry V. and Henry VIth's time.

Shakespear, besides the Queen's bounty, was patronized by the Earl of Southampton, famous in the history of that time for his friendship to the unfortunate Earl of Essex. It was to that nobleman he dedicated his poem of Venus and Adonis, and it is reported, that his lordship gave our author a thousand pounds to enable him to go through with a purchase he heard he had a mind to make. A bounty at that time very considerable, as money then was valued: there are few instances of such liberality in our times.

There is no certain account when Shakespear quitted the stage for a private life. Some have thought that Spenser's Thalia in the Tears of the Muses, where she laments the loss of her Willy in the comic scene, relates to our poet's abandoning the stage. But it is well known that Spenser himself died in the year 1598, and five years after this we find Shakespear's name amongst the actors in Ben Johnson's Sejanus, which first made its appearance in the year 1603, nor could he then have any thoughts of retiring, since that very year, a license by King James the first was granted to him, with Burbage, Philipps, Hemmings, Condel, &c. to exercise the art of playing comedies, tragedies, &c. as well at their usual house called the Globe on the other side the water, as in any other parts of the kingdom, during his Majesty's pleasure. This license is printed in Rymer's Faedera; besides it is certain, Shakespear did not write Macbeth till after the accession of James I. which he did as a compliment to him, as he there embraces the doctrine of witches, of which his Majesty was so fond that he wrote a book called Daemonalogy, in defence of their existence; and likewise at that time began to touch for the Evil, which Shakespear has taken notice of, and paid him a fine turned compliment. So that what Spenser there says, if it relates at all to Shakespear, must hint at some occasional recess which he made for a time.

What particular friendships he contracted with private men, we cannot at this time know, more than that every one who had a true taste for merit, and could distinguish men, had generally a just value and esteem for him. His exceeding candour and good nature must certainly have inclined all the gentler part of the world to love him, as the power of his wit obliged the men of the most refined knowledge and polite learning to admire him. His acquaintance with Ben Johnson began with a remarkable piece of humanity and good nature: Mr. Johnson, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offered one of his plays to the stage, in order to have it acted, and the person into whose hands it was put, after having turned it carelessly over, was just upon returning it to him with an ill-natured answer, that it would be of no service to their company, when Shakespeare luckily cast his eye upon it, and found something so well in it, as to engage him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnson and his writings to the public.

The latter part of our author's life was spent in ease and retirement, he had the good fortune to gather an estate, equal to his wants, and in that to his wish, and is said to have spent some years before his death in his native Stratford. His pleasant wit and good nature engaged him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship, of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. It is still remembered in that county, that he had a particular intimacy with one Mr. Combe, an old gentleman, noted thereabouts for his wealth and usury. It happened that in a pleasant conversation amongst their common friends, Mr. Combe merrily told Shakespear, that he fancied he intended to write his epitaph, if he happened to out-live him; and since he could not know what might be said of him when dead, he desired it might be done immediately; upon which Shakespear gave him these lines.

Ten in the hundred lyes here engraved, 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved: If any man asketh who lies in this tomb? Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe.

But the sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man so severely, that he never forgave it.

Shakespear died in the fifty-third year of his age, and was buried on the North side of the chancel in the great church at Stratford, where a monument is placed on the wall. The following is the inscription on his grave-stone.

Good friend, for Jesus sake forbear, To dig the dust inclosed here. Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curs'd be he that moves my bones. He had three daughters, of whom two lived to be married; Judith the elder to Mr. Thomas Quincy, by whom she had three sons, who all died without children, and Susannah, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall, a physician of good reputation in that county. She left one child, a daughter, who was married to Thomas Nash, Esq; and afterwards to Sir John Bernard, of Abington, but deceased likewise without issue.

His dramatic writings were first published together in folio 1623 by some of the actors of the different companies they had been acted in, and perhaps by other servants of the theatre into whose hands copies might have fallen, and since republished by Mr. Rowe, Mr. Pope, Mr. Theobald, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and Mr. Warburton.

Ben Johnson in his discoveries has made a sort of essay towards the character of Shakespear. I shall present it the reader in his own words,

'I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespear, that in writing he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted out a thousand! which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance, who chuse that circumstance to commend their friend by, wherein he most faulted; and to justify my own character (for I lov'd the man, and do honour to his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any). He was indeed honest, and of an open free nature, had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility, that sometimes it was necessary he should be stopp'd. His wit was in his own power: would the rule of it had been so. Many times he fell into those things which could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Caesar, one speaking to him, "Caesar thou dost me wrong."

He replied, "Caesar did never wrong, but with just cause;"

'And such like, which were ridiculous; but he redeemed his vices with his virtues; there was ever more in them to be praised, than to be pardoned.' Ben in his conversation with Mr. Drumond of Hawthornden, said, that Shakespear wanted art, and sometimes sense. The truth is, Ben was himself a better critic than poet, and though he was ready at discovering the faults of Shakespear, yet he was not master of such a genius, as to rise to his excellencies; and great as Johnson was, he appears not a little tinctured with envy. Notwithstanding the defects of Shakespear, he is justly elevated above all other dramatic writers. If ever any author deserved the name of original (says Pope) it was he: [1] 'His poetry was inspiration indeed; he is not so much an imitator, as instrument of nature; and it is not so just to say of him that he speaks from her, as that she speaks through him. His characters are so much nature herself, that it is a sort of injury to call them by so distant a name as copies of her. The power over our passions was likewise never possessed in so eminent a degree, or displayed in so many different instances, nor was he more a matter of the great, than of the ridiculous in human nature, nor only excelled in the passions, since he was full as admirable in the coolness of reflection and reasoning: His sentiments are not only in general the most pertinent and judicious upon every subject, but by a talent very peculiar, something between penetration and felicity, he hits upon that particular point, on which the bent of each argument, or the force of each motive depends.'

Our author's plays are to be distinguished only into Comedies and Tragedies. Those which are called Histories, and even some of his Comedies, are really Tragedies, with a mixture of Comedy amongst them. That way of Tragi-comedy was the common mistake of that age, and is indeed become so agreeable to the English taste, that though the severer critics among us cannot bear it, yet the generality of our audiences seem better pleased with it than an exact Tragedy. There is certainly a great deal of entertainment in his comic humours, and a pleasing and well distinguished variety in those characters he thought fit to exhibit with. His images are indeed every where so lively, that the thing he would represent stands full before you, and you possess every part of it; of which this instance is astonishing: it is an image of patience. Speaking of a maid in love, he says,

———She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i'th'bud, Feed on her damask cheek: She pin'd in thought, And sat like patience on a monument. Smiling at grief.

But what is characteristically the talent of Shakespear, and which perhaps is the most excellent part of the drama, is the manners of his persons, in acting and in speaking what is proper for them, and fit to be shewn by the Poet, in making an apparent difference between his characters, and marking every one in the strongest manner.

Poets who have not a little succeeded in writing for the stage, have yet fallen short of their great original in the general power of the drama; none ever found so ready a road to the heart; his tender scenes are inexpressibly moving, and such as are meant to raise terror, are no less alarming; but then Shakespeare does not much shine when he is considered by particular passages; he sometimes debases the noblest images in nature by expressions which are too vulgar for poetry. The ingenious author of the Rambler has observed, that in the invocation of Macbeth, before he proceeds to the murder of Duncan, when he thus expresses himself,

————-Come thick night And veil thee, in the dunnest smoke of hell, Nor heaven peep thro' the blanket of the dark, To cry hold, hold.

That the words dunnest and blanket, which are so common in vulgar mouths, destroy in some manner the grandeur of the image, and were two words of a higher signification, and removed above common use, put in their place, I may challenge poetry itself to furnish an image so noble. Poets of an inferior class, when considered by particular passages, are excellent, but then their ideas are not so great, their drama is not so striking, and it is plain enough that they possess not souls so elevated as Shakespeare's. What can be more beautiful than the flowing enchantments of Rowe; the delicate and tender touches of Otway and Southern, or the melting enthusiasm of Lee and Dryden, but yet none of their pieces have affected the human heart like Shakespeare's.

But I cannot conclude the character of Shakespeare, without taking notice, that besides the suffrage of almost all wits since his time in his favour, he is particularly happy in that of Dryden, who had read and studied him clearly, sometimes borrowed from him, and well knew where his strength lay. In his Prologue to the Tempest altered, he has the following lines;

Shakespear, who taught by none, did first impart, To Fletcher wit, to lab'ring Johnson, art. He, monarch-like gave there his subjects law, And is that nature which they paint and draw; Fletcher reached that, which on his heights did grow, While Johnson crept, and gathered all below: This did his love, and this his mirth digest, One imitates him most, the other best. If they have since outwrit all other men, 'Tis from the drops which fell from Shakespear's pen. The storm[2] which vanished on the neighb'ring shore Was taught by Shakespear's Tempest first to roar. That innocence and beauty which did smile In Fletcher, grew in this Inchanted Isle. But Shakespear's magic could not copied be, Within that circle none durst walk but he.

The plays of this great author, which are forty-three in number, are as follows,

1. The Tempest, a Comedy acted in the Black Fryars with applause.

2. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, a Comedy writ at the command of Queen Elizabeth.

3. The first and second part of King Henry IV the character of Falstaff in these plays is justly esteemed a master-piece; in the second part is the coronation of King Henry V. These are founded upon English Chronicles.

4. The Merry Wives of Windsor, a Comedy, written at the command of Queen Elizabeth.

5. Measure for Measure, a Comedy; the plot of this play is taken from Cynthio Ciralni.

6. The Comedy of Errors, founded upon Plautus's Maenechmi.

7. Much Ado About Nothing, a Comedy; for the plot see Ariosto's Orlando Furioso.

8. Love's Labour Lost, a Comedy.

9. Midsummer's Night's Dream, a Comedy.

10. The Merchant of Venice, a Tragi-Comedy.

11. As you Like it, a Comedy.

12. The Taming of a Shrew, a Comedy.

13. All's Well that Ends Well.

14. The Twelfth-Night, or What you Will, a Comedy. In this play there is something singularly ridiculous in the fantastical steward Malvolio; part of the plot taken from Plautus's Maenechmi.

15. The Winter's Tale, a Tragi-Comedy; for the plot of this play consult Dorastus and Faunia.

16. The Life and Death of King John, an historical play.

17. The Life and Death of King Richard II. a Tragedy.

18. The Life of King Henry V. an historical play.

19. The First Part of King Henry VI. an historical play.

20. The Second Part of King Henry VI. with the death of the good Duke Humphrey.

21. The Third Part of King Henry VI. with the death of the Duke of York. These plays contain the whole reign of this monarch.

22. The Life and Death of Richard III. with the landing of the Earl of Richmond, and the battle of Bosworth field. In this part Mr. Garrick was first distinguished.

23. The famous history of the Life of King Henry VIII.

24. Troilus and Cressida, a Tragedy; the plot from Chaucer.

25. Coriolanus, a Tragedy; the story from the Roman History.

26. Titus Andronicus, a Tragedy.

27. Romeo and Juliet, a Tragedy; the plot from Bandello's Novels. This is perhaps one of the most affecting plays of Shakespear: it was not long since acted fourteen nights together at both houses, at the same time, and it was a few years before revived and acted twelve nights with applause at the little theatre in the Hay market.

28. Timon of Athens, a Tragedy; the plot from Lucian's Dialogues.

29. Julius Caesar, a Tragedy.

30. The Tragedy of Macbeth; the plot from Buchanan, and other Scotch writers.

31. Hamlet Prince of Denmark, a Tragedy.

32. King Lear, a Tragedy; for the plot see Leland, Monmouth.

33. Othello the Moor of Venice, a Tragedy; the plot from Cynthio's Novels.

34. Anthony and Cleopatra; the story from Plutarch.

35. Cymbeline, a Tragedy; the plot from Boccace's Novels.

36. Pericles Prince of Tyre, an historical play.

37. The London Prodigal, a Comedy.

38. The Life and Death of Thomas Lord Cromwell, the favourite of King Henry VIII.

39. The History of Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham, a Tragedy. See Fox's Book of Martyrs.

40. The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling-street, a Comedy.

41. A Yorkshire Tragedy; this is rather an Interlude than a Tragedy, being very short, and not divided into Acts.

42. The Tragedy of Locrine, the eldest son of King Brutus. See the story in Milton's History of England.

Our age, which demonstrates its taste in nothing so truly and justly as in the admiration it pays to the works of Shakespear, has had the honour of raising a monument for him in Westminster Abbey; to effect which, the Tragedy of Julius Caesar was acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, April 28, 1738, and the profits arising from it deposited in the hands of the earl of Burlington, Mr. Pope, Dr. Mead, and others, in order to be laid out upon the said monument. A new Prologue and Epilogue were spoken on that occasion; the Prologue was written by Benjamin Martyn esquire; the Epilogue by the hon. James Noel esquire, and spoke by Mrs. Porter. On Shakespear's monument there is a noble epitaph, taken from his own Tempest, and is excellently appropriated to him; with this let us close his life, only with this observation, that his works will never be forgot, 'till that epitaph is fulfilled.—When

The cloud capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself And all which it inherit shall dissolve, And like the baseless fabric of a vision Leave not a wreck behind.

[Footnote 1: Preface to Shakespear]

[Footnote 2: Alluding to the sea voyage of Fletcher.]

* * * * *

JOSHUA SYLVESTER,

The translator of the famous Du Bartas's Weeks and Works; was cotemporary with George Chapman, and flourished in the end of Elizabeth and King James's reign; he was called by the poets in his time, the silver-tongu'd Sylvester, but it is doubtful whether he received any academical education. In his early years he is reported to have been a merchant adventurer.[1] Queen Elizabeth is said to have had a respect for him, her successor still a greater, and Prince Henry greater than his father; the prince so valued our bard, that he made him his first Poet-Pensioner. He was not more celebrated for his poetry, than his extraordinary private virtues, his sobriety and sincere attachment to the duties of religion. He was also remarkable for his fortitude and resolution in combating adversity: we are further told that he was perfectly acquainted with the French, Italian, Latin, Dutch and Spanish languages. And it is related of him, that by endeavouring to correct the vices of the times with too much asperity, he exposed himself to the resentment of those in power, who signified their displeasure, to the mortification and trouble of the author. Our poet gained more reputation by the translation of Du Bartas, than by any of his own compositions. Besides his Weeks and Works, he translated several other productions of that author, namely, Eden[2], the Deceit, the Furies, the Handicrafts, the Ark, Babylon, the Colonies, the Columns, the Fathers, Jonas, Urania, Triumph of Faith, Miracle of Peace, the Vocation, the Daw; the Captains, the Trophies, the Magnificence, &c. also a Paradox of Odes de la Nove, Baron of Teligni with the Quadrians of Pibeac; all which translations were generally well received; but for his own works, which were bound up with them, they received not, says Winstanley, so general an approbation, as may be seen by these verses:

We know thou dost well, As a translator But where things require A genius and fire,

Not kindled before by others pains, As often thou hast wanted brains.

In the year 1618 this author died at Middleburgh in Zealand, aged 55 years, and had the following epitaph made on him by his great admirer John Vicars beforementioned, but we do not find that it was put upon his tomb-stone.

Here lies (death's too rich prize) the corpse interr'd Of Joshua Sylvester Du Bartas Pier; A man of arts best parts, to God, man, dear; In foremost rank of poets best preferr'd.

[Footnote 1: Athenae Oxon. p. 594.]

[Footnote 2: Winstanley, Lives of the Poets, p. 109.]

* * * * *

SAMUEL DANIEL

Was the son of a music master, and born near Taunton in Somersetshire, in the year 1562. In 1579 he was admitted a commoner in Magdalen Hall in Oxford, where he remained about three years, and by the assistance of an excellent tutor, made a very great proficiency in academical learning; but his genius inclining him more to studies of a gayer and softer kind, he quitted the University, and applied himself to history and poetry. His own merit, added to the recommendation of his brother in law, (John Florio, so well known for his Italian Dictionary) procured him the patronage of Queen Anne, the consort of King James I. who was pleased to confer on him the honour of being one of the Grooms of the Privy-Chamber, which enabled him to rent a house near London, where privately he composed many of his dramatic pieces. He was tutor to Lady Ann Clifford, and on the death of the great Spenser, he was appointed Poet Laureat to Queen Elizabeth. Towards the end of his life he retired to a farm which he had at Beckington near Philips Norton in Somersetshire, where after some time spent in the service of the Muses, and in religious contemplation, he died in the year 1619. He left no issue by his wife Justina, to whom he was married several years. Wood says, that in the wall over his grave there is this inscription;

Here lies expecting the second coming of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the dead body of Samuel Daniel esquire, that excellent poet and historian, who was tutor to Lady Ann Clifford in her youth, she that was daughter and heir to George Clifford earl of Cumberland; who in gratitude to him erected this monument to his memory a long time after, when she was Countess Dowager of Pembroke, Dorset and Montgomery. He died in October, Anno 1619.

Mr. Daniel's poetical works, consisting of dramatic and other pieces, are as follow;

1. The Complaint of Rosamond.

2. A Letter from Octavia to Marcus Antonius, 8vo. 1611.

These two pieces resemble each other, both in subject and stile, being written in the Ovidian manner, with great tenderness and variety of passion. The measure is Stanzas of seven lines. Let the following specimen shew the harmony and delicacy of his numbers, where he makes Rosamond speak of beauty in as expressive a manner as description can reach.

Ah! beauty Syren, fair inchanting good, Sweet silent rhetoric of persuading eyes; Dumb eloquence whose power doth move the blood, More than the words or wisdom of the wife; Still harmony whose diapason lies, Within a brow; the key which passions move, To ravish sense, and play a world in love.

3. Hymen's Triumph, a Pastoral Tragi-Comedy presented at the Queen's Court in the Strand, at her Majesty's entertainment of the King, at the nuptials of lord Roxborough, London, 1623, 4to. It is introduced by a pretty contrived Prologue by way of dialogue, in which Hymen is opposed by avarice, envy and jealousy; in this piece our author sometimes touches the passions with a very delicate hand.

4. The Queen's Arcadia, a Pastoral Tragi-Comedy, presented before her Majesty by the university of Oxford, London 1623, 4to.

5. The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses, presented in a Masque the 8th of January at Hampton-Court, by the Queen's most excellent Majesty and her Ladies. London 1604, 8vo. and 1623, 4to. It is dedicated to the Lady Lucy, countess of Bedford. His design under the shapes, and in the persons of the Twelve Goddesses, was to shadow out the blessings which the nation enjoyed, under the peaceful reign of King James I. By Juno was represented Power; by Pallas Wisdom and Defence; by Venus, Love and Amity; by Vesta, Religion; by Diana, Chastity; by Proserpine, Riches; by Macaria, Felicity; by Concordia, the Union of Hearts; by Astraea, Justice; by Flora, the Beauties of the Earth; by Ceres, Plenty; and by Tathys, Naval Power.

6. The Tragedy of Philotas, 1611, 8vo. it is dedicated to the Prince, afterwards King Charles I.

This play met with some opposition, because it was reported that the character of Philotas was drawn for the unfortunate earl of Essex, which obliged the author to vindicate himself from this charge, in an apology printed at the end of the play; both this play, and that of Cleopatra, are written after the manner of the ancients, with a chorus between each act.

7. The History of the Civil Wars between the Houses of York and Lancaster, a Poem in eight books, London, 1604, in 8vo. and 1623, 4to. with his picture before it.

8. A Funeral Poem on the Death of the Earl of Devonshire, London, 1603, 4to.

9. A Panegyric Congratulatory, delivered to the King at Burleigh-Harrington in Rutlandshire, 1604 and 1623, 4to.

10. Epistles to various great Personages in Verse, London, 1601 and 1623, 4to.

11. The Passion of a Distressed Man, who being on a tempest on the sea, and having in his boat two women (of whom he loved the one who disdained him, and scorned the other who loved him) was, by command of Neptune, to cast out one of them to appease the rage of the tempest, but which was referred to his own choice. If the reader is curious to know the determination of this man's choice, it is summed up in the concluding line of the poem.

She must be cast away, that would not save.

12. Musophilus, a Defence of Learning; written dialogue-wise, addressed to Sir Fulk Greville.

13. Various Sonnets to Delia, 57 in number.

14. An Ode. 15. A Pastoral. 16. A Description of Beauty. 17. To the Angel Spirit of Sir Philip Sidney. 18. A Defence of Rhime. All these pieces are published together in two volumes, 12 mo. under the title of the poetical pieces of Mr. Samuel Daniel.

But however well qualified our author's genius was for poetry, yet Langbain is of opinion that his history is the crown of all his works. It was printed about the year 1613, and dedicated to Queen Anne. It reaches from the state of Britain under the Romans, to the beginning of the reign of Richard II. His history has received encomiums from various hands, as well as his poetry: It was continued by John Trusul, with like brevity and candour, but not with equal elegance, 'till the reign of Richard III. A.D. 1484. Mr. Daniel lived respected by men of worth and fashion, he passed through life without tasting many of the vicissitudes of fortune; he seems to have been a second rate genius, and a tolerable versifier; his poetry in some places is tender, but want of fire is his characteristical fault. He was unhappy in the choice of his subject of a civil war for a poem, which obliged him to descend to minute descriptions, and nothing merely narrative can properly be touched in poetry, which demands flights of the imagination and bold images.

* * * * *

Sir JOHN HARRINGTON,

Born at Kelston near the city of Bath, was the son of John Harrington esquire, who was imprisoned in the Tower in the reign of Queen Mary, for holding a correspondence with the Lady Elizabeth; with whom he was in great favour after her accession to the crown, and received many testimonies of her bounty and gratitude. Sir John, our author, had the honour to be her god-son, and both in respect to his father's merit, and his own, he was so happy to possess her esteem to the last[1]. He had the rudiments of his education at Eaton; thence removing to Cambridge, he there commenced master of arts, and before he arrived at his 30th year, he favoured the world with a translation of the Orlando Furioso of Ariosto, by which he acquired some reputation. After this work, he composed four books of epigrams, which in those times were received with great applause; several of these mention another humorous piece of his called Misacmos Metatmorphosis, which for a while exposed him to her Majesty's resentment, yet he was afterwards received into favour. This (says Mrs. Cooper) is not added to the rest of his works, and therefore she supposes was only meant for a Court amusement, not the entertainment of the public, or the increase of his fame. In the reign of King James I. he was created Knight of the Bath[2], and presented a manuscript to Prince Henry, called a Brief View of the State of the Church of England, as it stood in Queen Elizabeth and King James's reign in the year 1608. This piece was levelled chiefly against the married bishops, and was intended only for the private use of his Highness, but was some years afterwards published by one of Sir John's grandsons, and occasioned much displeasure from the clergy, who did not fail to recollect that his conduct was of a piece with his doctrines, as he, together with Robert earl of Leicester, supported Sir Walter Raleigh in his suit to Queen Elizabeth for the manor of Banwell, belonging to the bishopric of Bath and Wells, on the presumption that the right reverend incumbent had incurred a Premunire, by marrying a second wife.

Sir John appears to be a gentleman of great pleasantry and humour; his fortune was easy, the court his element, and which is ever an advantage to an author, wit was not his business, but diversion: 'Tis not to be doubted, but his translation of Ariosto was published after Spenser's Fairy Queen, and yet both in language and numbers it is much inferior, as much as it is reasonable to suppose the genius of Harrington was below that of Spenser.

Mrs. Cooper remarks, that the whole poem of Orlando is a tedious medley of unnatural characters, and improbable events, and that the author's patron, Cardinal Hippolito De Este, had some reason for that severe question. Where the devil, Signior Ludovico, did you pick up all these damned lies? The genius of Ariosto seems infinitely more fit for satire than heroic poetry; and some are of opinion, that had Harrington wrote nothing but epigrams, he had been more in his own way.

We cannot certainly fix the time that Sir John died, but it is reasonable to suppose that it was about the middle, or rather towards the latter end of James I's reign. I shall subjoin an epigram of his as a specimen of his poetry.

IN CORNUTUM.

What curl'd pate youth is he that sitteth there, So near thy wife, and whispers in her eare, And takes her hand in his, and soft doth wring her. Sliding his ring still up and down her finger? Sir, 'tis a proctor, seen in both the lawes, Retain'd by her in some important cause; Prompt and discreet both in his speech and action, And doth her business with great satisfaction. And think'st thou so? a horn-plague on thy head! Art thou so-like a fool, and wittol led, To think he doth the bus'ness of thy wife? He doth thy bus'ness, I dare lay my life.

[Footnote 1: Muses Library, p. 296.]

[Footnote 2: Ubi supra.]

* * * * *

THOMAS DECKER,

A poet who lived in the reign of King James I. and as he was cotemporary with Ben Johnson, so he became more eminent by having a quarrel with that great man, than by all his works. Decker was but an indifferent poet, yet even in those days he wanted not his admirers; he had also friends among the poets; one of whom, Mr. Richard Brome, always called him Father; but it is the misfortune of little wits, that their admirers are as inconsiderable as themselves, for Brome's applauses confer no great honour on those who enjoy them. Our author joined with Webster in writing three plays, and with Rowley and Ford in another; and Langbaine asserts, that these plays in which he only contributed a part, far exceed those of his own composition. He has been concerned in eleven plays, eight whereof are of his own writing, of all which I shall give an account in their alphabetical order.

I. Fortunatus, a comedy, printed originally in 4to but with what success, or when acted, I cannot gain any account.

II. Honest Whore, the first part; a comedy, with the humours of the Patient Man, and the Longing Wife, acted by the Queen's Servants, 1635.

III. Honest Whore, the second part, a comedy; with the humours of the Patient Man, the Impatient Wife; the Honest Whore persuaded by strong arguments to turn Courtezan again; her refusing those arguments, and lastly the comical passage of an Italian bridewel, where the scene ends. Printed in 4to, London 1630. This play Langbaine thinks was never exhibited, neither is it divided into acts.

IV. If this be not a good play the devil is in it; a comedy, acted with great applause by the Queen's majesty's servants, at the Red-Bull, and dedicated to the actors. The beginning of this play seems to be writ in imitation of Machiavel's novel of Belphegor, where Pluto summons the Devils to council.

Match me in London, a Tragi-Comedy, often presented, first at the Bull's head in St. John's-street, and then at a private house in Drury-lane, called the Phoenix, printed in 4to. in 1631.

VI. Northward Ho, a comedy, often acted by the children of Paul's, printed in 4to. London, 1607. This play was writ by our author and John Webster.

VII. Satyromastix, or the untrussing the humourous poet, a comical satire, presented publickly by the Lord Chamberlain's servants, and privately by the children of Paul's, printed in 4to, 1602, and dedicated to the world. This play was writ on the occasion of Ben Johnson's Poetaster, for some account of which see the Life of Johnson.

VIII. Westward Ho,[1] a comedy, often acted by the children of Paul's, and printed in 4to. 1607; written by our author and Mr. Webster.

IX. Whore of Babylon, an history acted by the prince's servants, and printed in 4to. London 1607. The design of this play, by feigned names, is to set forth the admirable virtues of queen Elizabeth; and the dangers she escaped by the happy discovery of those designs against her sacred person by the Jesuits and bigotted Papists.

X. Wyatt's History, a play said to be writ by him and Webster, and printed in 4to. The subject of this play is Sir Thomas Wyat of Kent, who made an insurrection in the first year of Queen Mary, to prevent her match with Philip of Spain.

Besides these plays he joined with Rowley and Ford in a play called, The Witch of Edmonton, of which see Rowley.

There are four other plays ascribed to our author, in which he is said by Mr. Phillips and Winstanley to be an associate with John Webster, viz. Noble Stranger; New Trick to cheat the Devil; Weakest goes to the Wall; Woman will have her Will; in all which Langbaine asserts they are mistaken, for the first was written by Lewis Sharp, and the other by anonymous authors.

[Footnote 1: This was revived in the year 1751, at Drury-lane theatre on the Lord Mayor's day, in the room of the London Cuckolds, which is now discontinued at that house.]

* * * * *

BEAUMONT and FLETCHER

Were two famous dramatists in the reign of James I. These two friends were so closely united as authors, and are so jointly concerned in the applauses and censures bestowed upon their plays, that it cannot be thought improper to connect their lives under one article.

Mr. FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Was descended from the ancient family of his name, seated at Grace dieu in Leicestershire,[1] and was born about the year 1585 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. His grandfather, John Beaumont, was Master of the Rolls, and his father Francis Beaumont, one of the Judges of the Common Pleas. Our poet had his education at Cambridge,[2]but of what college we are not informed, nor is it very material to know. We find him afterwards admitted a student in the Inner-Temple, but we have no account of his making any proficiency in the law, which is a circumstance attending almost all the poets who were bred to that profession, which few men of sprightly genius care to be confined to. Before he was thirty years of age he died, in 1615, and was buried the ninth of the same month in the entrance of St. Benedictine's Chapel, within St. Peter's Westminster. We meet with no inscription on his tomb, but there are two epitaphs writ on him, one by his elder brother Sir John Beaumont, and the other by Bishop Corbet. That by his brother is pretty enough, and is as follows:

On Death, thy murderer, this revenge I take: I slight his terror, and just question make, Which of us two the best precedence have, Mine to this wretched world, thine to the grave. Thou should'st have followed me, but Death to blame Miscounted years, and measured age by fame. So dearly hast thou bought thy precious lines; Thy praise grew swiftly, so thy life declines. Thy muse, the hearer's queen, the reader's love All ears, all hearts, but Death's could please and move.

Our poet left behind him one daughter, Mrs. Frances Beaumont, who lived to a great age and, died in Leicestershire since the year 1700. She had been possessed of several poems of her father's writing, but they were lost at sea in her voyage from Ireland, where she had lived sometime in the Duke of Ormond's family. Besides the plays in which Beaumont was jointly concerned with Fletcher, he writ a little dramatic piece entitled, A Masque of Grays Inn Gentlemen, and the Inner-Temple; a poetical epistle to Ben Johnson; verses to his friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon his faithful Shepherd, and other poem's printed together in 1653, 8vo. That pastoral which was written by Fletcher alone, having met with but an indifferent reception, Beaumont addressed the following copy of verses to him on that occasion, in which he represents the hazard of writing for the stage, and satirizes the audience for want of judgment, which, in order to shew his versification I shall insert.

Why should the man, whose wit ne'er had a stain, Upon the public stage present his vein, And make a thousand men in judgment sit To call in question his undoubted wit, Scarce two of which can understand the laws, Which they should judge by, nor the party's cause. Among the rout there is not one that hath, In his own censure an explicit faith. One company, knowing thy judgment Jack, Ground their belief on the next man in black; Others on him that makes signs and is mute, Some like, as he does, in the fairest sute; He as his mistress doth, and me by chance: Nor want there those, who, as the boy doth dance Between the acts will censure the whole play; Some, if the wax lights be not new that day: But multitudes there are, whose judgment goes Headlong, according to the actors clothes.

Mr. Beaumont was esteemed so accurate a judge of plays, that Ben Johnson, while he lived, submitted all his writings to his censures; and it is thought, used his judgment in correcting, if not contriving most of his plots.

[Footnote 1: Jacob's Lives of the Poets.]

[Footnote 2: Wood.]

* * * * *

Mr. JOHN FLETCHER

Was son of Dr. Richard Fletcher, Lord Bishop of London, and was born in Northamptonshire in the year 1576. He was educated at Cambridge, probably at Burnet-college, to which his father was by his last will and testament a benefactor[1]. He wrote plays jointly with Mr. Beaumont, and Wood says he assisted Ben Johnson in a Comedy called The Widow. After Beaumont's death, it is said he consulted Mr. James Shirley in forming the plots of several of his plays, but which those were we have no means of discovering. The editor of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays in 1711 thinks it very probable that Shirley supplied many that were left imperfect, and that the players gave some remains of Fletcher's for Shirley to make up; and it is from hence (he says) that in the first act of Love's Pilgrimage, there is a scene of an ostler transcribed verbatim out of Ben Johnson's New Inn, Act I. Scene I. which play was written long after Fletcher died, and transplanted into Love's Pilgrimage, after printing the New Inn, which was in the year 1630, and two of the plays printed under Fletcher's name. The Coronation and The Little Thief have been claimed by Shirley as his; it is probable they were left imperfect by the one, and finished by the other. Mr. Fletcher died of the plague in the forty ninth year of his age, the first of King Charles I. An. 1625, and was buried in St. Mary Overy's Church in Southwark.

Beaumont and Fletcher, as has been observed, wrote plays in concert, but what share each bore in forming the plots, writing the scenes, &c. is unknown. The general opinion is, that Beaumont's judgment was usually employed in correcting and retrenching the superfluities of Fletcher's wit, whose fault was, as Mr. Cartwright expresses it, to do too much; but if Winstanley may be credited, the former had his share likewise in the drama, for that author relates, that our poets meeting once at a tavern in order to form the rude draught of a tragedy, Fletcher undertook to kill the king, which words being overheard by a waiter, he was officious enough, in order to recommend himself, to lodge an information against them: but their loyalty being unquestioned, and the relation of the circumstance probable, that the vengeance was only aimed at a theatrical monarch, the affair ended in a jest.

The first play which brought them into esteem, as Dryden says, was Philaster, or Love lies a Bleeding; for, before that, they had written two or three very unsuccessfully, as the like is reported of Ben Johnson before he writ Every Man in his Humour. These authors had with the advantage of the wit of Shakespear, which was their precedent, great natural gifts improved by study. Their plots are allowed generally more regular than Shakespear's; they touch the tender passions, and excite love in a very moving manner; their faults, notwithstanding Beaumont's castigation, consist in a certain luxuriance, and stretching their speeches to an immoderate length;[2] however, it must be owned their wit is great, their language suited to the passions they raise, and the age in which they lived is a sufficient apology for their defects. Mr. Dryden tells us, in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry, that Beaumont and Fletcher's plays in his time were the most pleasing and frequent entertainments of the stage, two of theirs being acted through the year for one of Shakespear's or Johnson's; and the reason he assigns is, because there is a certain gaiety in their comedies, and a pathos in their most serious plays which suits generally with all men's humours; but however it might be when Dryden writ, the case is now reversed, for Beaumont and Fletcher's plays are not acted above once a season, while one of Shakespear's is represented almost every third night. It may seem strange, that wits of the first magnitude should not be so much honoured in the age in which they live, as by posterity;[3] it is now fashionable to be in raptures with Shakespear; editions are multiplied upon editions, and men of the greatest genius have employed all their power in illustrating his beauties, which ever grow upon the reader, and gain ground upon perusal. These noble authors have received incense of praise from the highest pens; they were loved and esteemed by their cotemporaries, who have not failed to demonstrate their respect by various copies of verses at different times, and upon different occasions, addressed to them, the insertion of which would exceed the bounds proposed for this work. I shall only observe, that amongst the illustrious names of their admirers, are Denham, Waller, Cartwright, Ben Johnson, Sir John Berkenhead, and Dryden himself, a name more than equal to all the rest. But the works of our authors have not escaped the censure of critics, especially Mr. Rhymer the historiographer, who was really a man of wit and judgment, but somewhat ill natured; for he has laboured to expose the faults, without taking any notice of the beauties of Rollo Duke of Normandy, the King and No King, and the Maids Tragedy, in a piece of his called The Tragedies of the Last Age considered, and examined by the practice of the ancients, and by the common sense of all ages, in a letter to Fleetwood Shepherd esquire. Mr. Rymer sent one of his books as a present to Mr. Dryden, who in the blank leaves before the beginning, and after the end of the book, made several remarks, as if he intended to publish an answer to that critic, and his opinion of the work was this[4]; "My judgment (says he) of this piece, is, that it is extremely learned, but the author seems better acquainted with the Greek, than the English poets; that all writers ought to study this critic as the best account I have seen of the ancients; that the model of tragedy he has here given is extremely correct, but that it is not the only model of tragedy, because it is too much circumscribed in the plot, characters, &c. And lastly, that we may be taught here justly to admire and imitate the ancients, without giving them the preference, with this author, in prejudice to our own country."

Some of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays were printed in quarto during the lives of their authors; and in the year 1645 twenty years after Fletcher's death, there was published in folio a collection of their plays which had not been printed before, amounting to between thirty and forty. At the beginning of this volume are inserted a great number of commendatory verses, written by the most eminent wits of that age. This collection was published by Mr. Shirley after shutting up the Theatres, and dedicated to the earl of Pembroke by ten of the most famous actors. In 1679 there was an edition of all their plays published in folio. Another edition in 1711 by Tonson in seven volumes 8vo. containing all the verses in praise of the authors, and supplying a large omission of part of the last act of Thierry and Theodoret. There was also another edition in 1751. The plays of our authors are as follow,

1. Beggars Bush, a Comedy, acted with applause.

2. Bonduca, a Tragedy; the plot from Tacitus's Annals, b. xiv. Milton's History of England, b. ii. This play has been twice revived.

3. The Bloody Brother, or Rollo Duke of Normandy, a Tragedy, acted at the Theatre at Dorset-Garden. The plot is taken from Herodian's History, b. iv.

4. Captain, a Comedy.

5. Chances, a Comedy; this was revived by Villiers duke of Buckingham with great applause.

6. The Coronation, a Tragi-Comedy, claimed by Mr. Shirley as his.

7. The Coxcomb, a Comedy.

8. Cupid's Revenge, a Tragedy.

9. The Custom of the Country, a Tragi-Comedy; the plot taken from Malispini's Novels, Dec. 6. Nov. 6.

10. Double Marriage, a Tragedy.

11. The Elder Brother, a Comedy,

13. The Faithful Shepherdess, a Dramatic Pastoral, first acted on a twelfth-night at Somerset House. This was entirely Mr. Fletcher's, and instead of a Prologue was sung a Dialogue, between a priest and a nymph, written by Sir William Davenant, and the Epilogue was spoken by the Lady Mordant, but met with no success.

13. The Fair Maid of the Inn, a Comedy; part of this play is taken from Causin's Holy Court, and Wanley's History of Man.

14. The False One; a Tragedy, founded on the Adventures of Julius Caesar in Egypt, and his amours with Cleopatra.

15. Four Plays in One, or Moral Representations, containing the triumphs of honour, love, death and time, from Boccace's Novels.

16. The Honest Man's Fortune, a Tragi-Comedy; the plot from Heywood's History of Warner.

17. The Humourous Lieutenant, a Tragi-Comedy, still acted with applause.

18. The Island Princess, a Tragi-Comedy, revived in 1687 by Mr. Tate.

19. A King and No King, a Tragi-Comedy, acted with applause.

20. The Knight of the Burning Pestle, a Comedy, revived also with a Prologue spoken by the famous Nell Gwyn.

21. The Knight of Malta, a Tragi-comedy.

22. The Laws of Candy, a Tragi-Comedy.

23. The Little French Lawyer, a Comedy; the plot from Gusman, or the Spanish Rogue.

24. Love's Cure, or the Martial Maid, a Comedy.

25. The Lover's Pilgrimage, a Comedy; the plot is taken from a novel called the Two Damsels, and some incidents from Ben Jonson's New Inn.

26. The Lovers Progress, a Tragi-Comedy; built on a French romance called Lysander and Calista.

27. The Loyal Subject, a Comedy.

28. The Mad Lover, a Tragi-Comedy.

29. The Maid in the Mill, a Comedy. This was revised and acted on the duke of York's Theatre.

30. The Maid's Tragedy; a play always acted with the greatest applause, but some part of it displeasing Charles II, it was for a time forbid to be acted in that reign, till it was revived by Mr. Waller, who entirely altering the last act, it was brought on the stage again with universal applause.

31. A Masque of Grays Inn Gentlemen, presented at the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth and the Prince Palatine of the Rhine, in the Banqueting House at Whitehall. This piece was written by Mr. Beaumont alone.

32. Monsieur Thomas, a Comedy. This play has been since acted on the stage, under the title of Trick for Trick.

33. Nice Valour, or the Passionate Madman, a Comedy.

34. The Night-walker, or the Little Thief, a Comedy, revived since the Restoration with applause.

35. The Noble Gentleman, a Comedy; this was revived by Mr. Durfey, and by him called The Fool's Preferment, at the Three Dukes of Dunstable.

36. Philaster, or Love lies a Bleeding, a Tragi-Comedy. This was the first play that brought these fine writers into esteem. It was first represented at the old Theatre in Lincolns Inn Fields, when the women acted by themselves.

37. The Pilgrim, a Comedy; revived and acted with success.

38. The Prophetess, a Tragi-Comedy. This play has been revived by Mr. Betterton, under the title of Dioclesian, an Opera.

39. The Queen of Cornish, a Tragi-Comedy.

40. Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, a Comedy.

41. The Scornful Lady, a Comedy; acted with great applause.

42. The Sea Voyage, a Comedy; revived by Mr. Durfey, who calls it The Commonwealth of Women. It would appear by the lines we have quoted p. 141, life of Shakespear, that it was taken from Shakespear's Tempest.

43. The Spanish Curate, a Comedy, several times revived with applause; the plot from Gerardo's History of Don John, p. 202, and his Spanish Curate, p. 214.

44. Thiery and Theodoret, a Tragedy; the plot taken from the French Chronicles, in the reign of Colsair II.

45. Two Noble Kinsmen, a Tragi-comedy; Shakespear assisted Fletcher in composing this play.

46. Valentinian, a Tragedy; afterwards revived and altered by the Earl of Rochester.

47. A Wife for a Month, a Tragedy; for the plot see Mariana and Louis de Mayerne Turquet, History of Sancho, the eighth King of Leon.

48. The Wild-Goose Chace, a Comedy, formerly acted with applause.

49. Wit at Several Weapons, a Comedy.

50. Wit without Money, a Comedy, revived at the Old House in Lincolns Inn Fields, immediately after the burning of the Theatre in Drury Lane, with a new Prologue by Mr. Dryden.

51. The Woman Hater, a Comedy, revived by Sir William Davenant, with a new Prologue in prose. This play was writ by Fletcher alone.

52. Women pleased, a Comedy; the plot from Boccace's Novels,

53. Woman's Prize, or the Tanner Tann'd, a Comedy, built on the same foundation with Shakespear's Taming of a Shrew; writ by Fletcher without Beaumont.

Mr. Beaumont writ besides his dramatic pieces, a volume of poems, elegies, sonnets, &c.

* * * * *

THOMAS LODGE

Was descended from a family of his name living in Lincolnshire, but whether born there, is not ascertained. He made his first appearance at the university of Oxford about the year 1573, and was afterwards a scholar under the learned Mr. Edward Hobye of Trinity College; where, says Wood, making very early advances, his ingenuity began first to be observed, in several of his poetical compositions. After he had taken one degree in arts, and dedicated some time to reading the bards of antiquity, he gained some reputation in poetry, particularly of the satiric species; but being convinced how barren a foil poetry is, and how unlikely to yield a competent provision for its professors, he studied physic, for the improvement of which he went beyond sea, took the degree of Dr. of that faculty at Avignon, returned and was incorporated in the university in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign: Afterwards settling in London, he practised physic with great success, and was particularly encouraged by the Roman Catholics, of which persuasion it is said he was.

Our author hath written

Alarm against Usurers, containing tried experiences against worldly abuses, London 1584.

History of Forbonius and Prisaeria, with Truth's Complaint over England.

Euphue's Golden Legacy.

The Wounds of a Civil War livelily set forth, in the true Tragedies of Marius and Sylla, London 1594.

Looking Glass for London and England, a Tragi-Comedy printed in 4to. London 1598, in an old black letter. In this play our author was assisted by Mr. Robert Green. The drama is founded upon holy writ, being the History of Jonah and the Ninevites, formed into a play. Mr. Langbain supposes they chose this subject, in imitation of others who had writ dramas on sacred themes long before them; as Ezekiel, a Jewish dramatic poet, writ the Deliverance of the Israelites out of Egypt: Gregory Nazianzen, or as some say, Apollinarius of Laodicea, writ the Tragedy of Christ's Passion; to these may be added

Hugo Grotius, Theodore Beza, Petavius, all of whom have built upon the foundation of sacred history.

Treatise on the Plague, containing the nature, signs, and accidents of the same, London 1603.

Treatise in Defence of Plays. This (says Wood) I have not yet seen, nor his pastoral songs and madrigals, of which he writ a considerable number.

He also translated into English, Josephus's History of the Antiquity of the Jews, London 1602. The works both moral and natural of Seneca, London 1614. This learned gentleman died in the year 1625, and had tributes paid to his memory by many of his cotemporary poets, who characterised him as a man of very considerable genius. Winstanley has preserved an amorous sonnet of his, which we shall here insert.

If I must die, O let me chuse my death: Suck out my soul with kisses, cruel maid! In thy breasts crystal balls, embalm my breath, Dole it all out in sighs, when I am laid; Thy lips on mine like cupping glasses clasp; Let our tongues meet, and strive as they would sting: Crush out my wind with one straight-girting grasp, Stabs on my heart keep time while thou dost sing. Thy eyes like searing irons burn out mine; In thy fair tresses stifle me outright: Like Circe, change me to a loathsome swine, So I may live forever in thy sight. Into heaven's joys can none profoundly see, Except that first they meditate on thee.

When our author wishes to be changed into a loathsome swine, so he might dwell in sight of his mistress, he should have considered, that however agreeable the metamorphosis might be to him, it could not be so to her, to look upon such a loathsome object.

[Footnote 1: Langbaine's Lives of the Poets.]

[Footnote 2: There is a coarseness of dialogue, even in their genteelest characters, in comedy, that appears now almost unpardonable; one is almost inclined to think the language and manners of those times were not over-polite, this fault appears so frequent; nor is the great Shakespear entirely to be acquitted hereof.]

[Footnote 3: May not this be owing to envy? are not most wits jealous of their cotemporaries? how readily do we pay adoration to the dead? how slowly do we give even faint praise to the living? is it a wonder Beaumont and Fletcher were more praised and versified than Shakespear? were not inferior wits opposed, nay preferred, to Dryden while living? was not this the case of Addison and Pope, whose works (those authors being no more) will be read with admiration, and allowed the just pre-eminence, while the English tongue is understood.]

[Footnote 4: Preface to Fletcher's plays.]

* * * * *

Sir JOHN DAVIES

Was born at Chisgrove, in the parish of Tysbury in Wiltshire, being the son of a wealthy tanner of that place. At fifteen years of age he became a Commoner in Queen's-college, Oxford 1585, where having made great progress in academical learning, and taken the degree of Batchelor of arts, he removed to the Middle-Temple, and applying himself to the study of the common law, was called to the bar; but having a quarrel with one Richard Martyn, (afterwards recorder of London) he bastinadoed him in the Temple-hall at dinner-time, in presence of the whole assembly, for which contempt, he was immediately expelled, and retired again to Oxford to prosecute his studies, but did not resume the scholar's-gown. Upon this occasion he composed that excellent poem called Nosce Teipsum[1]. Afterwards by the favour of Thomas lord Ellesmere, keeper of the Great Seal, being reinstated in the Temple, he practised as a counsellor, and became a burgess in the Parliament held at Westminster 1601. Upon the death of Queen Elizabeth our author, with Lord Hunsdon, went into Scotland to congratulate King James on his succession to the English throne. Being introduced into his Majesty's presence, the King enquired of Lord Hunsdon, the names of the gentlemen who accompanied him, and when his lordship mentioned John Davies, the King presently asked whether he was Nosce Teipsum, and being answered he was, embraced him, and assured him of his favour. He was accordingly made Sollicitor, and a little after Attorney-general in Ireland, where in the year 1606, he was made one of his Majesty's serjeants at law, and Speaker of the House of Commons for that kingdom. In the year following, he received the honour of knighthood from the King at Whitehall. In 1612 he quitted the post of Attorney-general in Ireland, and was made one of his Majesty's English serjeants at law. He married Eleanor Touchet, youngest daughter of George lord Audley, by whom he had a son, an idiot who died young, and a daughter named Lucy, married to Ferdinand lord Hastings, and afterwards Earl of Huntingdon. His lady was a woman of very extraordinary character; she had, or rather pretended to have a spirit of prophecy, and her predictions received from a voice which she often heard, were generally wrapped up in dark and obscure expressions. It was commonly reported, that on the sunday before her husband's death, she was sitting at dinner with him, she suddenly burst into tears, whereupon he asking her the occasion, she answered, "Husband, these are your funeral tears," to which he replied, "Pray therefore spare your tears now, and I will be content that you shall laugh when I am dead." After Sir John's death she lived privately at Parston in Hertfordshire, and an account was published of her strange and wonderful prophecies in 1609. In 1626 Sir John was appointed lord chief justice of the King's-bench, but before the ceremony of his installation could be performed he died suddenly of an apoplexy in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the church of St. Martin's in the Fields. He enjoyed the joint applauses of Camden, Ben Johnson, Sir John Harrington, Selden, Donne, and Corbet; these are great authorities in our author's favour, and I may fairly assert that no philosophical writers ever explained their ideas more clearly and familiarly in prose, or more harmoniously and beautifully in verse. There is a peculiar happiness in his similies being introduced more to illustrate than adorn, which renders them as useful as entertaining, and distinguishes them from any other author.