Hec. Then seek no farther. Duch. This must be done with speed, dispatched this night, If it may possibly. Hec. I have it for you: Here's that will do't. Stay but perfection's time, And that's not five hours hence. Duch. Can'st thou do this? Hec. Can I? Duch. I mean, so closely. Hec. So closely do you mean too? Duch. So artfully, so cunningly. Hec. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities, Can you doubt me then, daughter? That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk; Whole earth's foundations bellow, and the spirits Of the entomb'd to burst out from their marbles; Nay, draw yon moon to my involv'd designs? Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad, and our great cat angry; for one spits French then, and the other spits Latin. Duch. I did not doubt you, mother. Hec. No? what did you? My power's so firm, it is not to be question'd. Duch. Forgive what's past and now I know th' offensiveness That vexes art, I'll shun the occasion ever. Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter. Take you no care. My spirits know their moments; But they call in (I thank 'em), and they lose not by 't. They shall have semina cum sanguine, Their gorge cramm'd full, if they come once to our house : We are no niggard. [Exit Duchess. Fire. They fare but too well when they come hither. They ate up as much t'other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding. Hec. Give me some lizard's brain: quickly, Firestone ! Where's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o' th' sisters? Fire. All at hand, forsooth. [The other Witches appear. Hec. Give me marmaritin; some bear-breech. When? Fire. Here's bear-breech and lizard's brain, forsooth. Hec. Into the vessel; And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girl I kill'd last midnight. Fire. Whereabout, sweet mother? Hec. Hip; hip or flank. Where is the acopus ? Fire. You shall have acopus, forsooth. Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm. A CHARM SONG. (The Witches going about the cauldron.) Black spirits, and white; red spirits, and grey; Liard, Robin, you must bob in. Round, around, around, about, about; All ill come running in; all good keep out! 1st Witch. Here's the blood of a bat. Hec. Put in that; oh, put in that, 2nd Witch. Here's libbard's-bane. Hec. 2nd Witch. Put in again. 1st Witch. The juice of toad; the oil of adder. Those will make the younker madder, Put in: there's all, and rid the stench. Nay, here's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench. Hec. Fire. All. Hec. Round, around, around, &c. So, so, enough: into the vessel with it. light At any mischief: there's no villany But is a tune, methinks. I'm so Fire. A tune! 'Tis to the tune of damnation then, I warrant you, and that song hath a villanous burthen. Hec. Come, my sweet sisters; let the air strike our tune Whilst we show reverence to yon peeping moon. [The Witches dance, and then exeunt.” I will conclude this account with Mr Lamb's observations on the distinctive characters of these extraordinary and formidable personages, as they are described by Middleton or Shakspeare. "Though some resemblance may be traced between the Charms in Macbeth and the Incantations in this play, which is supposed to have preceded it, this coincidence will not detract much from the originality of Shakspeare. His witches are distinguished from the witches of Middleton by essential differences. These are creatures to whom man or woman, plotting some dire mischief, might resort for occasional consultation. Those originate deeds of blood, and begin bad impulses to men. From the moment that their eyes first meet Macbeth's, he is spellbound. That meeting sways his destiny. He can never break the fascination. These Witches can hurt the body; those have power over the soul.-Hecate, in Middleton, has a son, a low buffoon the Hags of Shakspeare have neither child of their own, nor seem to be descended from any parent. They are foul anomalies, of whom we know not whence they sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations. They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This is all we know of them.-Except Hecate, they have no names, which heightens their mysteriousness. The names, and some of the properties which Middleton has given to his Hags, excite smiles. The Weird Sisters are serious things. Their presence cannot co-exist with mirth. But in a lesser degree, the Witches of Middleton are fine creations. Their power too is, in some measure, over the mind. They 'raise jars, jealousies, strifes, like a thick scurf o'er life.'"* * Lamb's' Specimens of English Dramatic Poets.' Vol. 1, p. 187. Moxon, London. LECTURE III. ON MARSTON, CHAPMAN, DECKER, AND WEBSTER. THE writers of whom I have already treated may be said to have been "no mean men ;' those of whom I have yet to speak are certainly no whit inferior. Would that I could do them anything like justice! It is not difficult to give at least their seeming due to great and wellknown names; for the sentiments of the reader meet the descriptions of the critic more than half and clothe what is perhaps vague way, and extravagant praise with a substantial form and distinct meaning. But in attempting to extol the merits of an obscure work of genius, our words are either lost in empty air, or are "blown stifling back" upon the mouth that utters them. The greater those merits are, and the truer the praise, the more suspicious and disproportionate does it almost necessarily appear; for it has no relation to any image previously existing in the public mind, and therefore looks like an imposition fabricated out of nothing. In this case, the only way that I know of is, to make these old |