When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,1 That makes calamity of so long life: The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, MERCY. Hamlet, Act III. Scene I. The quality of mercy is not strain'd; And earthly power doth then show likest God's Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Scene L. ACTIVITY NECESSARY TO KEEP FAME BRIGHT. 8 Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 1 Turmoil, bustle. 2 There's the consideration. * This admirable speech of Ulysses to Achilles, to induce him to leave his tent, and come again into the field of action, though not much read, is scarcely inferior to any thing in Shakspeare. 1 Dust that is a little gilt, means, ordinary performances ostentatiously displayed, and lauded by the favor of friends. Gill o'er-dusted, means, splendid actions of preceding ages, the remembrance of which is weakened by time. Those scraps are good deeds past: which are devour'd As done: Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honor bright: To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in present, For time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand; And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek For beauty, wit, High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,- More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present eye praises the present object: Troilus and Cressida, Act III. Scene II. THE COMMONWEALTH OF BEES. So work the honey bees; Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of sorts: 4 2 Emulous missions refers to the machinery of Homer, which makes the deities descend from heaven to engage on either side. 3 Law. 4 That is, of different degrees. 1 Sober, grave. Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; To the tent-royal of their emperor: Henry V., Act I. Scene II. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. THESE names, united in their lives by friendship and confederate genius, have always been considered together; for they wrote together, their works were published together, nor is it possible now to assign to each his specific share of their joint labors. Some of the productions of each, however, are distinctively known. Francis Beaumont was born in Leicestershire, in 1586. He studied at Oxford, and thence passed to the Inner Temple; but the law had few charms for him, and, in conjunction with his friend Fletcher, he devoted his short life to the drama, and died in 1616, in the thirtieth year of his age. John Fletcher was the son of Dr. Richard Fletcher, bishop of London, and was born in that city in 1576. He was educated at Cambridge: little, however, is known of his life. He survived his coadjutor nine years, dying of the plague in 1625. The plays of Beaumont and Fletcher consist of tragedies, comedies, and mixed pieces. That they have many and great merits is undoubtedly true; but there are two things which will ever be a bar to their being generally read: one is, that they have not that truthfulness to nature which alone can permanently please; and the other is, that they are filled with so much that is repulsive to a delicate and virtuous mind. Still, as has been justly remarked, a proper selection from the works of these dramatists would make a volume of refined sentiment, and of lofty and sweet poetry, combined with good sense, humor, and pathos. In lyrics they have not been surpassed, not even by Shakspeare or Milton; and to these, therefore, we shall confine our extracts.3 ADDRESS TO MELANCHOLY. Hence, all you vain delights; Wherein you spend your folly; 2 Executioners. 3 Read-Hazlitt's "Age of Elizabeth," and Lamb's "Specimens of Dramatic Poets." But only melancholy; These are the sounds we feed upon: Nothing so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. BEAUMONT. THE LIFE OF MAN. Like to the falling of a star, BEAUMONT. MORNING. See, the day begins to break, FLETCHER. EXHORTATION TO EARLY RISING. Shepherds, rise, and shake off sleep! Bag and bottle for the field! FLETCHER. THE SHEPHERD'S EVENING. Shepherds all, and maidens fair, Fold your flocks up, for the air 'Gins to thicken, and the sun Already his great course hath run. See the dew-drops how they kiss Every little flower that is; Hanging on their velvet heads, Like a rope of crystal beads. See the heavy clouds low falling, And bright Hesperus down calling The dead night from under ground, At whose rising mists unsound. Damps, and vapors fly apace, Hovering o'er the wanton face Of these pastures, where they come Striking dead both bud and bloom; Therefore, from such danger, lock Every one his loved flock; And let your dogs lie loose without, Lest the wolf come as a scout From the mountain, and, ere day, Bear a lamb or kid away; Or the crafty thievish fox Break upon your simple flocks. To secure yourselves from these Be not too secure in ease; Let one eye his watches keep, While the other eye doth sleep; So you shall good shepherds prove, And for ever hold the love Of our great God. Sweetest slumbers, And soft silence, fall in numbers On your eyelids! So, farewell! Thus I end my evening's knell. FLETCHER. |