THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN.

The Commendatory Verses by Lovelace and Stanley speak of Fletcher singly as Author of this Tragedy. Its first publication was in the folio of 1647.

Earl of Rochester made some considerable alterations in Valentinian, with which it was performed.

1 Chi. I ne'er knew that way fail; yet I'll tell ye

I offer'd her a gift beyond all yours.] Chilax had before mentioned his temptations; and had this speech been his, he would have said "beyond all these." Proculus was the only one that had not mentioned what he had done; there seems therefore no doubt of this and the following speech belonging to him Seward.

This change seems as improper as arbitrary; there being no reason to suppose Proculus had attempted to seduce Lucina. So far from it, he is surprised at the accounts the others. give: "And cold at all these offers?"

Aspect. In the time of our Authors, and long after, this word was always accented on the last syilable: Many instances might be produced of it; and from this circumstance, Mr. Farmer appears convinced that the play called Double Falshood, ascribed by Theobald to Shakespeare, was the production of an Author who lived at a later period. See Farmer's Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare, p. 26.

3 She pointed to a Lucrece.] This is extremely poetical, and a very eminent modern has imitated it in the very best tragedy that the English stage has produced for many years past: I have not Mr. Fenton's Mariamne by me, but the lines, as I remember, are,

-Frowning, with a victor's haughty air,

"He pointed to a picture on the wall,
"Whose silent eloquence too plainly spoke
"His fix'd resolve against the suit I urg'd.
"Mar. What picture?

"Her. Perseus led in chains thro' Rome."

The reader will observe, that Mr. Fenton is not so concise and striking as our Authors: He rises into beauty like the gradual opening of a fair morning; our Poets break out at once in full lustre, like the sun bursting from an eclipse.

eyes

To gaze upon you in your age? can honour,
(That truly is a saint to none but soldiers,
And, look'd into, bears no reward but danger)
Leave you the most respected person living?
Or can the common kisses of a husband
(Which to a sprightly lady is a labour)
Make you almost immortal? You are cozen'd;
The honour of a woman is her praises; [too,
The way to get these, to be seen, and sought
And not to bury such a happy sweetness
Under a smoaky roof.

Lucina. I'll hear no more.
Phorba. That white and red, and all that
blessed beauty,

[thing:
Kept from the eyes, that make it so, is no-
Then you are rarely fair, when men proclaim
it.
[doubted.

The phenix, were she never seen, were
That most unvalued horn the unicorn
Bears to oppose the huntsman, were it nothing
But tale, and mere tradition, would help no
[doubled.

man;

But when the virtue's known, the honour's
Virtue is either lame, or not at all,
And love a sacrilege, and not a saint,
When it bars up the way to men's petitions.
Ard. Nay, you shall love your husband
too; we come not

To make a monster of you.

Lucina. Are ye women?

Ard. You'll find us so, and women you
shall thank too,

If you have grace to make your use.
Lucina. Fy on ye!

[soul,

Phorba. Alas, poor bashful lady! By my
Had you no other virtue but your blushes,
And I a man, I should run mad for those.
How daintily they set her off, how sweetly!
Ard. Come, goddess, come; you move too
near the earth;

It must not be! a better orb stays for you:
Here; be a maid, and take him.

Lucina. Pray leave me.

[a way Phorbu. That were a sin, sweet lady, and To make us guilty of your melancholy; You must not be alone; in conversation Doubts are resolv'd, and what sticks near the conscience

Made easy, and allowable.

Lucina. Ye are devils! [damnation.
Ard. That you may one day bless for your
Lucina. I charge ye, in the name of Chas-

tity,

Tempt ine no more! How ugly ye seem to me!
There is no wonder men defame our sex,
And lay the vices of all ages on us,
When such as you shall bear the names of
women!

If ye had eyes to see yourselves, or sense
Above the base rewards ye play the bawds for;
If ever in your lives ye heard of goodness,
Tho' many regions off, as men hear thunder;
If ever ye had fathers, and they souls;
If ever inothers, and not such as you are;
If ever any thing were constant in you,
Besides your sins, or common but your
curses7;

If ever any of your ancestors

Died worth a noble deed, that would be che

rish'd ;

Soul-frighted with this black infection,
You'd run from one another to repentance,

You still insist, &c.] The reader who will compare this scene with the persuasives against Chastity, introduced by Milton into the character of Comus, will readily see how much that excellent author has been indebted to this play.

5 Come goddesse, come, you move too neer the earth,

It must not be, a better orbe staies for you:

Here: be a mayd, and take'en,] So first folio. The second folio varies in the third line, where it says, "take 'em," and is copied in the subsequent editions. We have no doubt of" take 'en" meaning "take him."

6 If ever ye had mothers, and they souls;

If ever fathers, and not such as you are.] The necessity of the transposition of mothers and fathers in these two lines must be self-evident. Seward.

If ever any thing were constant in you,

Beside your sins, or coming but your courses.] The old folio reads, "comming but your curses." In attempting to correct this, the latter editions make something worse than nonsense. Before I saw the old folio I conjectured, or comely but your dresses,' but was unsatisfied with it. Common being exceeding near the old word comming, I now keep nearer the trace of the letters than the late editions, and read, or common but your curses;' i. e. If you have even any thing in common with the rest of woman-kind, except the curses that are entailed on ali. Seward.

We think Mr. Seward's reading right, but his explanation of that reading wrong. The simple meaning is, 'If there is any essential ingredient in your composition beside your sius, or any thing common to you all beside the curses that attend those sins, &c.'

I never can! I have a noble husband,
(Pray tell him that too) yet a noble name,
A noble family, and, last, a conscience.
Thus much for your answer: For yourselves,
Ye've liv'd the shame of women, die the
better!
[Exit.

Phorba. What's now to do?

Ard. Ev'n as she said, to die;
For there's no living here, and women thus,
I'm sure, for us two.

Phorba. Nothing stick upon her?

Ard. We've lost a mass of money. 'Well,

dame Virtue,

Yet you may halt, if good luck serve.
Phorba. Worms take her!

She has almost spoil'd our trade.
Ard. So godly!

This is ill-breeding, Phorba.

Phorba. If the women

Should have a longing now to see this monster,
And she convert 'em all!

Ard. That may be, Phorba;

But if it be, I'll have the young men gelded.
Come, let's go think; she must not 'scape us
thus:

There is a certain season, if we hit,
That women may be rid without a bit.

SCENE III.

Enter Maximus and Ecius.

[Exeunt.

Until unhallow'd hands defile those offerings,
Burns ever there; we must not put 'em out,
Because the priests that touch those sweets
are wicked;
[cannot,
We dare not, dearest friend, nay more, we
(Whilst we consider who we are, and how,
To what laws bound, much more to what law-
giver;

Whilst majesty is made to be obey'd,
And not enquir'd into; whilst gods and angels
Make but a rule as we do, tho' a stricter)
Like desp'rate and unseason'd fools, let fiy
Our killing angers, and forsake our honours.

Mar. My noble friend, (from whose in

structions

I never yet took surfeit) weigh but thus much,
Nor think I speak it with ambition,
For, by the gods, I do not! Why, Accius,
Why are we thus, or how become thus wretch-

Ecius. You'll fall again into your fit. [ed?
Max. I will not.-

Or, are we now no more the sons of Romans,
No more the followers of their happy fortunes,
But conquer'd Gauls, or quivers for the Par-
thians?

Why is this emperor, this man we honour,
This god that ought to be--

Ecius. You are too curious.
Max. Good, give me leave.-Why is this
author of us———

Ecius. I dare not hear you speak thus.
Mar. I'll be modest.—

Thus led away, thus vainly led away,
And we beholders? Misconceive me not;
I so
sow no danger in my words. But wherefore,

9 Oh, my Ecius.] Our Authors always make three syllables of Ecius, I therefore divide the diphthong. Seward.

The first folio sometimes exhibits Ecius, sometimes Accius, which we follow; though the measure commonly warrants the diaresis adopted by Mr. Seward; and which was used first, we believe, by Lovelace, in his Commendatory Verses.

10

-like shells,

Grow to the ragged walls for want of action.] The shell-fish that grows to stones seems to have the least motion, scuse and life of any known animal, and therefore a state of inaction might be beautifully represented by these; but then rocks would be a much properer word than walls for them to grow to. I therefore believe the true word to be shields instead of shells. A soldier without action is very pertinently compared to the rusty shields which were, in our Authors' time, the customary ornaments of the ragged walls of all the old mansion-houses in the kingdom. There is another sense of shells, viz. such as snails often leave on walls; but shield, being a much more soldier-like metaphor, I believe it the ori ginal. Seward.

We think shells right. It would have been a ridiculous pursuit of the metaphor to have substituted rocks for walls.