Lady. I do not indeed; but now methinks I cannot conceal any thing; yet I could wish you could now guess my thoughts, and look into my mind; and see what strange passions have ruled there of late, without forcing me to strain my modesty.

Broth. What, are you in love with anybody? Come, let me know the party; a brother's advice may do you no harm.

Sist. Did you not see an ancient gentleman with me, when you came in?

Broth. What, is it any son or kinsman of his ?
Sist. No, no. (She weeps.)

Broth. Who then?

Sist. I have told you

- Broth. What, that feeble and decrepit piece of ageSist. Nay, brother

Broth. That sad effect of some threescore years and ten-that antic relique of the last century

Sist. Alas, dear brother, it is but too true.
Broth. It is impossible.

Sist. One would think so indeed.

Broth. I grant, you may bear a reverence and regard, as to your father's ashes, or your grandsire's tomb.

Sist. Alas, brother, you know I never did affect those vain though pleasing braveries of youth, but still have set my mind on the more noble part of man, which age doth more refine and elaborate, than it doth depress and sink this same contemptible clod.

Justice. I see, she loves me.

HEY FOR HONESTY:

A COMEDY. BY T. RANDOLPH, 1651.

To Plutus.

Did not Will Summers break his wind for thee?
And Shakespeare therefore writ his comedy?
All things acknowledge thy vast power divine,

Great God of Money, whose most powerful shine
Gives motion, life; day rises from thy sight,
Thy setting though at noon makes pitchy night.
Sole catholic cause of what we feel and see,
All in this all are but the effects of thee.

Riches above Poverty; a syllogism.

My major, That which is most noble, is most honorable. But Poverty is more noble. My minor I prove thus. Whose houses are most ancient, those are most noble. But Poverty's houses are most ancient; for some of them are so old, like Vicarage houses, they are every hour in danger of falling.

Stationer's Preface before the Play.

Reader, this is a pleasant Comedy, though some may judge it satirical, 'tis the more like Aristophanes, the father; besides, if it be biting, 'tis a biting age we live in; then biting for biting. Again, Tom Randal, the adopted son of Ben Jonson, being the Translator hereof, followed his father's steps. They both of them loved Sack, and harmless mirth, and here they shew it; and I, that know myself, am not averse from it neither. This I thought good to acquaint thee with. Farewell, Thine, F. J.

THE EXAMPLE:

A TRAGI-COMEDY. BY JAS. SHIRLEY, 1638.

The humour of a wary Knight, who sleeps all day, and wakes all night, for security.-He calls up his Household at midnight.

Plot. Dormant, why Dormant, thou eternal sleeper. Who would be troubled with these lethargies About him? are you come, dreamer?

Dormant (entering). Would I were so happy. There's less noise in a steeple upon a Coronation-day. O sleep, sleep, tho' it were a dead one, would be comfortable.

Your Worship might be pleased to let my fellow Oldrat watch as well as I.

Plot. Old-rat! that fellow is a drone.

Dorm. He has slept this half-hour on the iron chest. Would I were in my grave to take a nap; death would do me a courtesy; I should be at rest, and hear no noise of "Dormant."

Plot. Hah! what's the matter?

Dorm. Nothing but a yawn, Sir, I do all I can to keep myself waking.

Plot. 'Tis done considerately. This heavy dullnessIs the disease of souls. Sleep in the night!

Dorm. Shall I wake my fellow Old-rat? he is refreshed.

Plot. Do; but return you with him: I have business for both.

Dorm. To hear us join in opinion of what's a clock ! They talk of Endymion: now could I sleep three lives.

[Exit. Plot. When other men measure the hours with sleep, Careless of where they are and whom they trust, Exposing their condition to danger

Of plots, I wake and wisely think prevention.
Night was not made to snore in ; but so calm,
For our imaginations to be stirring

About the world; this subtle world, this world

Of plots and close conspiracy.

There is

No faith in man nor woman. Where 's this Dormant ? Dorm. (re-entering with OLD-RAT). Here is the sleepy vermin.

Old. It has been day this two hours.

Plot. Then 'tis time for me to go to bed.

Dorm. Would my hour were once come!

Plot. Keep out daylight, and set up a fresh taper. Dorm. By that time we have dined, he will have

slept out his first sleep.

Old. And after supper call for his breakfast.
Plot. You are sure 'tis morning?

Dorm. As sure as I am sleepy.

LOVE'S DOMINION:

A DRAMATIC PASTORAL. BY RICHARD FLECKNOE, 1634.

Invocation to Silence.

Still-born Silence, thou that art
Floodgate of the deeper heart;
Offspring of a heavenly kind;

Frost o' th' mouth and thaw o' th' mind;
Secrecy's Confident, and he

That makes religion Mystery ;
Admiration's speaking'st tongue,—
Leave thy desart shades, among
Reverend Hermits' hallowed cells,
Where retir'd'st Devotion dwells :
With thy Enthusiasms come;
Seize this Maid, and strike her dumb.

Fable.

Love and Death o' th' way once meeting,
Having past a friendly greeting,
Sleep their weary eye-lids closing,
Lay them down, themselves reposing;
When this fortune did befall 'em,
Which after did so much appal 'em ;
Love, whom divers cares molested,
Could not sleep; but, whilst Death rested,
All away in haste he posts him :
But his haste full dearly cost him;
For it chanced, that going to sleeping,
Both had giv'n their darts in keeping
Unto Night; who (Error's Mother)
Blindly knowing not th' one from th' other,
Gave Love Death's, and ne'er perceiv'd it,
Whilst as blindly Love receiv'd it :
Since which time, the darts confounding,
Love now kills, instead of wounding;
Death, our hearts with sweetness filling,
Gently wounds, instead of killing.

DON QUIXOTE:

A COMEDY, IN THREE PARTS. BY THOMAS D'URFEY, 1694.

Dirge, at the hearse of Chrysostom.

Sleep, poor Youth, sleep in peace,
Relieved from love and mortal care;
Whilst we, that pine in life's disease,
Uncertain-bless'd, less happy are.
Couch'd in the dark and silent grave,
No ills of fate thou now canst fear;
In vain would tyrant Power enslave,
Or scornful Beauty be severe.

Wars, that do fatal storms disperse,
Far from thy happy mansion keep;
Earthquakes, that shake the universe,
Can't rock thee into sounder sleep.
With all the charms of peace possest,
Secure from life's torment or pain,
Sleep, and indulge thyself with rest;
Nor dream thou e'er shalt rise again*.

ANDRONICUS:

A TRAGEDY. BY PHILONAX LOVEKIN, 1661.

Effect of Religious Structures on different minds. Crato. I grieve the Chapel was defaced: 't was stately.

Cleobulus. I love no such triumphant Churches

They scatter my devotion; whilst my sight

i. e. "may thy sleep be so profound, as not even by dreams of a resurrection to be disturbed: " the language of passion, not of sincere profaneness.

VOL. II.

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