porary Dramatists. He is complaining in a mood half serious, half comic, of the disrespect which Poets in his own times meet with from the world, compared with the honours paid them by Antiquity. Then they could afford them three or four sonorous names, and at full length; as to Ovid, the addition of Publius Naso Sulmensis; to Seneca, that of Lucius Annæas Cordubensis ; and the like. Now, says he,

Our modern Poets to that pass are driven,

Those names are curtail'd which they first had given ;
And, as we wish'd to have their memories drown'd,
We scarcely can afford them half their sound.
Greene, who had in both Academies ta'en
Degree of Master, yet could never gain
To be call'd more than Robin: who, had he
Profest ought save the Muse, served, and been free
After a sev'n years 'prenticeship, might have
(With credit too) gone Robert to his grave.
Marlowe, renown'd for his rare art and wit,
Could ne'er attain beyond the name of Kit;
Although his Hero and Leander did

Merit addition rather.

Famous Kid

Was call'd but Tom. Tom Watson; though he wrote Able to make Apollo's self to dote

Upon his Muse; for all that he could strive,

Yet never could to his full name arrive.

Tom Nash (in his time of no small esteem)
Could not a second syllable redeem.

Excellent Beaumont, in the foremost rank
Of the rarest wits, was never more than Frank.
Mellifluous SHAKSPEARE, whose inchanting quill
Commanded mirth or passion, was but WILL;
And famous Jonson, though his learned pen
Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben.

Fletcher, and Webster, of that learned pack
None of the meanest, neither was but Jack;
Decker but Tom; nor May, nor Middleton;
And he's now but Jack Ford, that once were John.

[Possibly our Poet was a little sore, that this contemptuous curtailment of their Baptismal Names was chiefly exercised upon his Poetical Brethren of the Drama. We hear nothing about Sam Daniel, or Ned Spenser, in his catalogue. The familiarity of common discourse might probably take the greater liberties

with the Dramatic Poets, as conceiving of them as more upon a level with the Stage Actors. Or did their greater publicity, and popularity in consequence, fasten these diminutives upon them out of a feeling of love and kindness, as we say Harry the Fifth, rather than Henry, when we would express good-will?-as himself says, in those reviving words put into his mouth by Shakspeare, where he would comfort and confirm his doubting brothers :

Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
But Harry, Harry!

And doubtless Heywood had an indistinct conception of this truth, when, (coming to his own name), with that beautiful retracting which is natural to one that, not satirically given, has wandered a little out of his way into something recriminative, he goes on to say :

Nor speak I this, that any here exprest

Should think themselves less worthy than the rest
Whose names have their full syllables and sound;
Or that Frank, Kit, or Jack, are the least wound
Unto their fame and merit. I for my part
(Think others what they please) accept that heart,
Which courts my love in most familiar phrase;
And that it takes not from my pains or praise,
If any one to me so bluntly come :

I hold he loves me best that calls me Tom.

ADRASTA:

A TRAGI-COMEDY. BY JOHN JONES, 1635.

Die, die, ah die!

We all must die :

'Tis Fate's decree :

Then ask not why.

Dirge.

When we were framed, the Fates consultedly
Did make this law, that all things born should die.

Yet Nature strove,

And did deny

We should be slaves

To Destiny.

At which, they heapt

Such misery;

That Nature's self

Did wish to die :

And thank their goodness, that they would foresee
To end our cares with such a mild decree.

Another.

Come, Lovers, bring your cares,
Bring sigh-perfumed sweets;
Bedew the grave with tears,
Where Death with Virtue meets.

Sigh for the hapless hour,
That knit two hearts in one;
And only gave Love power

To die, when 'twas begun.

THE GAME AT CHESS :

A COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON, 1624.

Popish Priest to a great Court Lady, whom he hopes to make a Convert of.

Let me contemplate;

With holy wonder season my access,

And by degrees approach the sanctuary

Of unmatch'd beauty, set in grace and goodness.
Amongst the daughters of men I have not found
A more Catholical aspect. That eye

Doth promise single life, and meek obedience.
Upon those lips (the sweet fresh buds of youth)
The holy dew of prayer lies, like pearl
Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
Upon the bashful rose. How beauteously
A gentle fast (not rigorously imposed)

Would look upon that cheek; and how delightful
The courteous physic of a tender penance,
(Whose utmost cruelty should not exceed
The first fear of a bride), to beat down frailty!

JACK DRUM'S ENTERTAINMENT:

A COMEDY. AUTHOR UNKNOWN, 1601.

The free humour of a Noble Housekeeper. Fortune (a Knight). I was not born to be my cradle's drudge,

To choke and stifle up my pleasure's breath.
To poison with the venom'd cares of thrift
My private sweet of life: only to scrape
heap of muck, to fatten and manure

barren virtues of my progeny,

ole them sprout 'spite of their want of worth;
irls should wish me live;
have a greedy sire,
with hungry lip,
stewardship.

Such misery;

That Nature's self

Did wish to die :

And thank their goodness, that they would foresee
To end our cares with such a mild decree.

Another.

Come, Lovers, bring your cares,
Bring sigh-perfumed sweets;
Bedew the grave with tears,
Where Death with Virtue meets.
Sigh for the hapless hour,
That knit two hearts in one;
And only gave Love power

To die, when 'twas begun.

THE GAME AT CHESS:

A COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON, 1624.

Popish Priest to a great Court Lady, whom he hopes to make a
Convert of.

Let me contemplate;

With holy wonder season my access,
And by degrees approach the sanctuary

Of unmatch'd beauty, set in grace and goodness.
Amongst the daughters of men I have not found
A more Catholical aspect. That eye
Doth promise single life, and meek obedience.
Upon those lips (the sweet fresh buds of youth)
The holy dew of prayer lies, like pearl
Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
Upon the bashful rose. How beauteously
A gentle fast (not rigorously imposed)

Would look upon that cheek; and how delightful
The courteous physic of a tender penance,
(Whose utmost cruelty should not exceed
The first fear of a bride), to beat down frailty!

4