quæ

Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit.”

He possessed a vein of poetry rather exuberant, and somewhat metaphysical, and, to our minds, his dramas would have been more attractive, if they had been a little more garnished with its ornaments. He sometimes steps out of the circle of truth and nature-as for instance, when he makes Castiza's mother, who has just before expressed all the alarm of insulted virtue, yield her consent to her daughter's dishonour in these words:

"Men know, that know us,

We are so weak their words can overthrow us."

He may be right in point of fact, as a philosophic observer, but is he not wrong as a dramatist, who ought not merely to observe but to be the person he represents? for although an observer might see the sophistry and folly of such arguments and persuasions as are urged to the mother, yet the person who yields to temptation would have no distinct perception of their weak ness and fallacy; but on the contrary, the lines which separate right and wrong would have become for the moment, in her mind, uncertain and confused, and she would, in the temporary intoxication, have lost sight of the depravity, in the seductiveness of the vice. In the character of Vindici also, in the same play, there appears to be a want of consistency. In the early part of the drama he is represented as an honorable gentleman, who, from disappointment in his darling passion, is urged on to revenge the murder of his betrothed lady-and, in the closing scene, he attempts to fasten suspicion on another, for a murder committed by himself, and he does so without any apparent inducement for so dishonourable an act, for there is not the slightest suspicion of his being the perpetrator of the deed. When Antonio too, the new elected duke, is expressing his wonder how the strange murder of the old duke was effected, Vindici explains the mysterious circumstance, adding, that it was all done for his (Antonio's) good. The duke orders him to immediate execution, and still he remonstrates "it was for his grace's good." Now this is not at all consistent with the nice, honorable feelings which characterise Vindici in the early part of the play. It may be supposed, in explanation of this objection, that his feelings might, by the continual wear and tear of them, have driven him mad. But though he breaks out into jests and merry taunts, that have no mirth in them, it is obvious they emanate from the bitterness of his feelings, and not from the wandering of his mind-they are, in truth, like the forked lightning, at once playful and awful.

The plot of the Revenger's Tragedy consists of the contrivances of Vindici to revenge the death of Gloriana, his affianced bride, poisoned by the Duke of, some place in the heaven of invention, for the author has not thought it necessary to inform us of its name, because she would not consent to a dishonorable passion. Another cause of vengeance arises, in the course of the play, from the attempt of Lussurioso to dishonour Castiza, the sister of Vindici, who, disguised and unknown, is employed by Lussurioso to effect his purpose. This he undertakes before he knows the nature of his employment, and having undertaken on oath, he determines to make trial of the virtue of his sister and mother. These last mentioned scenes are the only ones in the play worth notice. Of that between the mother and her two sons, in which they upbraid her for, and she repents of her conduct, an eminent contemporary critic has spoken in a strain of high eulogium, much higher, indeed, than we should be inclined to bestow, although it is a really good scene, and the very best which Tourneur has written. Some of the language, however, addressed by Vindici to Castiza must have been quite unintelligible to her.

The scenes alluded to are as follow.

"Enter to Castiza, Vindici, her brother, disguised.

Vin. Lady, the best of wishes to your sex,

Fair skins and new gowns.

Cast. Oh they shall thank you, sir.

Whence this?

Vin. Oh, from a dear and worthy friend.

Cast. From whom?

Vin. The duke's son !

Cast. Receive that. [gives a box o'the ear to her brother. I swore I'd put anger in my hand,

And pass the virgin limits of myself,

To him that next appear'd in that base office,
To be his sin's attorney. Bear to him

That figure of my hate upon thy cheek
Whilst 'tis yet hot, and I'll reward thee for't;

Tell him, my honour shall have a rich name,
When several harlots shall share his with shame.
Farewell; commend me to him in my hate,

Vin. It is the sweetest box,

That e'er my nose came nigh;

The finest draw-work cuff that e'er was worn;
I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek
Shall still hence-forward take the wall of this.
Oh, I'm above my tongue: most constant sister,

[exit.

In this thou hast right honourable shown;

Many are call'd by their honour, that have none;
Thou art approv'd for ever in my thoughts.

It is not in the power of words to taint thee.
And yet for the salvation of my oath,

As my resolve in that point, I will lay
Hard siege unto my mother, tho' I know,
A Siren's tongue could not bewitch her so.

Mass, fitly here she comes! thanks, my disguise-
Madam, good afternoon.

Moth. Y'are welcome, sir.

Vin. The next of Italy commends him to you,

Our mighty expectation, the duke's son.

Moth. I think myself much honour'd, that he pleases To rank me in his thoughts.

Vin. So may you, lady :

One that is like to be our sudden duke;

The crown gapes for him every tide, and then

Commander o'er us all, do but think on him,
How blest were they now that could pleasure him,
E'en with any thing almost!

Moth. Ay, save their honour.

Vin. Tut, one would let a little of that go too,
And ne'er be seen in't: ne'er be seen in't, mark you,
I'd wink and let it go-

Moth. Marry but I would not.

Vin. Marry but I would, I hope; I know you would too, If you'd that blood now which you gave your daughter.

To her indeed 'tis, this wheel comes about;

That man that must be all this, perhaps e'er morning,

(For his white father does but mould away)

Has long desir'd your daughter.

Moth. Desir'd?

Vin. Nay, but hear me,

He desires now, that will command hereafter:

Therefore be wise, I speak as more a friend

To you than him; madam, I know you're poor,

And (lack the day!) there are too many poor ladies already;

Why should you wax the number? 'tis despis'd.

Live wealthy, rightly understand the world,

And chide away that foolish country girl

Keeps company with your daughter, chastity.

Moth. O fie, fie! the riches of the world cannot hire a

mother to such a most unnatural task.

Vin. No, but a thousand angels can;

Men have no power, angels must work you to't:
The world descends into such base-born evils,
That forty angels can make fourscore devils.
There will be fools still I perceive-still fool?
Would I be poor, dejected, scorn'd of greatness,
Swept from the palace, and see others' daughters
Spring with the dew o'the court, having mine own
So much desir'd and lov'd-by the duke's son?
No, I would raise my state upon her breast;
And call her eyes my tenants; I would count
My yearly maintenance upon her cheeks;
Take coach upon her lip; and all her parts
Should keep men after men, and I would ride
In pleasure upon pleasure.

You took great pains for her, once when it was,

Let her requite it now, tho' it be but some;

You brought her forth, she may well bring you home.
Moth. O heavens! this o'ercomes me!

Vin. Not I hope already?

[aside.

Moth. It is too strong for me; men know, that know us,

We are so weak their words can overthrow us:

He touch'd me nearly, made my virtues bate,
When his tongue struck upon my poor estate.

Vin. I e'en quake to proceed, my spirit turns edge,

I fear me she's unmother'd, yet I'll venture.

What think you now, lady? speak, are you wiser?
What said advancement to you? thus it said,
The daughter's fall lifts up the mother's head:
Did it not madam? but I'll swear it does

In many places: tut, this age fears no man,
"Tis no shame to be bad, because 'tis common.'
Moth. Ay, that's the comfort on't.

Vin. The comfort on't!

I keep the best for last, can these persuade you

To forget heaven—and—

Moth. Ay, these are they―

Vin. Oh!

Moth. That enchant our sex :

[aside.

[gives her money.

These are the means that govern our affections,-that woman

Will not be troubled with the mother long,

That sees the comfortable shine of you:

I blush to think what for your sakes I'll do.

Vin. O suffering heaven! with thy invisible finger,

E'en at this instant turn the precious side

Of both mine eye-balls inward, not to see myself.
Moth. Look you, sir.

[aside.