For I have not a stock in all the world Of so much dust, as would contrive one narrow But the small earth I borrow, thus to walk on ;] Fel. I must beseech you stay a little, sir, Fer. "Tis sad truth. Fel. This is a happiness I did not look for. Fel. Yes, sir, a happiness. Fer. Can Felisarda take delight to hear What hath undone her servant? Fel. Heaven avert it. But 'tis not worth my grief to be assured Fer. Those shadows will not feed more than Two poverties will keep but a thin table; Fel. 'Tis ease And wealth first taught us art to surfeit by: A table for us in the wilderness; And the kind earth keep us alive and healthful, Health to our loves; our lives shall there be free Fel. Fel. Oh, Felisarda? If thou didst own less virtue I might prove That thou mayst change for a more happy bridegroom; As make thee miserable by expecting me. But that I have no fortune now to serve thee. We shall be married when our spirits meet.'-vol. i. pp. 246–252. Scenes like this are interspersed throughout the whole of the intermediate compositions which form nearly two-thirds of Shirley's dramas. They bear considerable resemblance to some of Calderon's plays, those which are not in his more serious vein, but more elevated and poetical than those Capo y Espada comedies, from which the later English comic writers borrowed so largely. There is the same disregard of probability, (this, however, the animation and activity of the scene scarcely allow us time to detect, or inclination to criticize)-the same love of disguises, princesses in the garb of pages, princes who turn out to be changelings, and humbler characters who turn out to be princes, everybody in love, and everybody in love with the wrong personuntil, by some unexpected dénouement, they all fall into harmonious and well-assorted couples-and a general marriage winds up the whole piece. Like the great Spanish dramatist, Shirley delights in throwing his leading characters into the most embarrassing situations-their constancy is exposed to the rudest trials sometimes he has caught the high chivalrous tone of self-devotion, the sort of voluntary martyrdom of love which will surrender its object, either at the call of some more commanding duty, or for the greater glory and happiness of its mistress. We would direct particular attention to The Grateful Servant.' ; There is still another class of drama in which Shirley is extremely successful, though here, likewise, the skill of the author is rather shown in the general conduct of his piece, than in the striking execution of single parts. It is a poetic comedy of English and domestic manners, mingled with serious, sometimes with pathetic pathetic scenes. To this class belong the Lady of Pleasure, Hyde Park, the whimsical play of Love in a Maze, the Constant Maid, the Gamester, the Example, and one or two others. Shirley's comic, like his tragic powers, are rather fertile and various than rich and original; he is easy and playful rather than broad and vigorous. Of course, even his more serious and tragic plays are relieved, according to the invariable practice of his school, by the humours of the clown or the buffoon. In some of the romantic tragic-comedies, as in the Sisters, a play which we cannot but think might succeed on the modern stage, the main interest is altogether comic; and even in this last class, the comedy of Manners, occur many of those passages of gentle and quiet sweetness, which are characteristic of Shirley. As a satirical painter of manners, as a playful castigator of the fashions, the follies, the humours of the day, he is to Jonson what, in his serious efforts, he is to Fletcher. In all such pictures the very excellence, in some degree, endangers the lasting popularity; the more accurately the resemblance of the poet's own times is drawn, the more alien it is to the habits and feelings of modern days; in precise proportion that such pieces are valuable to the antiquarian, they are obsolete and unintelligible to the common reader. Much, therefore, of the zest and raciness of the following scene must, of course, be lost; it is from the Lady of Pleasure, a play which, but for one wanton and unnecessary blemish, might be quoted almost throughout as a very curious and lively description of fashionable manners in the days of Charles I. Aretina, the wife of Sir Thomas Bornwell, is the Lady Townley, or the Lady Teazle, of an older date : Steward. Be patient, Madam; you may have your pleasure. To be the lady of six shires! The men, And barren heads standing as much in want Of ploughing as their ground. To hear a fellow Make himself merry and his horse, with whistling They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candlesticks! They ring all in to Whitsun-ales; and sweat, Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby-horse Be kept for spoon meat ! Stew. These, with your pardon, are no argument Το To make the country life appear so hateful; Prais'd for your hospitality, and pray'd for: Lady B. You do imagine, No doubt, you have talk'd wisely, and confuted Stew. How, Madam! Enter Sir THOMAS BORNWELL. Born. How now? What's the matter? Stew. Nothing, Sir. Born. Angry, sweetheart? Lady B. I am angry with myself, To be so miserably restrain'd in things, Born. In what, Aretina, Dost thou accuse me? Have I not obey'd A lady of my birth and education? ........ Born. Your charge of gaudy furniture, and pictures Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery, Four-score pound suppers for my lord your kinsman, And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants, More motley than the French or the Venetian, About your coach, whose rude postillion Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls; And And common cries pursue your ladyship, Lady B. Have you done, sir? wardrobe, Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your And shew like bonfires on you by the tapers: Lady B. Pray do, I like Your homily of thrift. Born. I could wish, madam, You would not game so much. Lady B. A gamester too! Born. But are not come to that acquaintance yet, Lady B. Good! proceed. Born. Another game you have, which consumes more Your fame than purse; your revels in the night, Your meetings call'd THE BALL, to which repair, As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants, And ladies, thither bound by a subpoena Of Venus, and small Cupid's high displeasure; Lady B. Have you concluded? My language may appear to you, it carries To your delights, without curb to their modest We conclude with a few observations on this editio princeps' of Shirley. The plays, as we have before observed, were collected, arranged, and edited by the late Mr. Gifford ; and his was a task of no light labour-for never had unhappy author suffered so much from careless and ignorant printers as Shirley. Some errors of the press, which have either crept into this edition or have remained uncorrected, show that the keen eye of that most accurate |