" The Second Maiden's Tragedy.* PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1824. THIS is one of the three unpublished plays which escaped the fatal hands of Warburton's cook, and is printed from a manuscript book of that gentleman, in the Lansdown Collection. No title page is prefixed to the manuscript, nor is the name of The Second Maiden's Tragedy" in the same handwriting as the play. From the tenor of the license to act, indeed, it is probable that this name was given to it by the Master of the Revels; that license is in the following words: "This Second Maiden's Tragedy (for it hath no name inscribed,) may, with the reformations, be publickly acted. 31 October, 1611, G. Buc." Why it is called The Second Maiden's Tragedy" does not appear-there is no trace of any drama having the title of "The First Maiden's Tragedy," and it does not bear any resemblance to the "Maid's Tragedy" of Beaumont and Fletcher. There is reason therefore to believe that the name by which it is now known, was adopted merely for the purpose of distinguishing it from other plays licensed to be acted, as the words, "for it hath no name inscribed," can hardly be supposed to refer to the want of the author's name, which is as difficult to be ascertained as that of his play. At the back of the manuscript, it is said to be by a person whose name, on a close inspection, appears to have been William (afterwards, altered to Thomas) Goughe. This name has been nearly obliterated, and that of George Chapman" substituted, which in its turn has been scored through, for the purpose of making room for "Will. Shakspear." That it does not belong to Thomas Goff,† the author of the Raging Turk, is abundantly obvious-he was at the time it was licensed not more than nineteen years of age, and besides was totally incapable of producing anything of the kind: nor has Chapman, in our opinion, a better title to it. Many of the scenes are distinguished by a tenderness and pathos which are not to be found in the productions of either of those Authors; but although it possesses merits of no ordinary kind, it cannot be pretended that it approaches the character of the Dramas of Shakspeare, whose name indeed is written in a much more modern hand. The subordinate plot is founded upon the story of the Curious Impertinent in Don Quixote, from which it differs very little, except in the catastrophe. Various parts of the play have been struck out, some for the purpose of being omitted in the representation, and others which were probably considered dangerous or offensive to royalty, apparently by Sir George Buc; for example, in the second scene of the last act, the exclamation of the Tyrant, "Your King's poisoned!" is altered to "I am poisoned ;" the propriety of which reformation is manifest from the answer of Memphonius, viz., The King of Heaven be praised for it!" In both cases the original text has been restored in the present publication. The Second Maiden's Tragedy. Now first printed from the original MS. in the Lansdown Collection. London: Printed for Charles Baldwyn, Newgate Street. 1824. [The text of this edition is very inaccurate and incomplete. A reference to the original MS. in the library of the British Museum has enabled us to correct numerous errors and to supply several important omissions in it.] † Mr. [Robert] Goughe appears from the MS to have acted the part of the Tyrant in this Play. The Second Maiden's Tragedy. ACT I. SCENE I. One in the whole creation, and in her You dared to be my rival! was't not bold? Now we are king she'll leave the lower path And find the way to us: Helvetius ! It is thy daughter, happier than a king, And far above him, for she kneels to thee Whom we have kneel'd to; richer in one smile That came from her, than she in all thy blessings; If thou be'st proud thou art to be forgiven, It is no deadly sin in thee; while she lives, High lust is not more natural to youth Than that to thee; be not afraid to die in't, 'Tis but the sign of joy; there is no glad ness, But has a pride it lives by,-that's the oil With a respect equal with that to us; If more, it shall be pardon'd; so still err, You honour us, but ourself honours her. Mem. Strange fortune, does he make his queen of her? [Exit Memph. Sop. I have a wife; would she were so preferr'd! I could be but her subject, so I'm now ; I allow her her one friend to stop her mouth, And keep her quiet, give him his table free, And the huge feeding of his great stonehorse, On which he rides in pomp about the city, Beside I draw my life out, by the bargain, Some twelve years longer than the times appointed; When my young prodigal gallant kicks up's heels At one-and-thirty, and lies dead and rotten Some five-and-forty years before I'm coffin'd. 'Tis the right way to keep a woman honest, One friend is barricado to a hundred, sure To have his children all of one man's getting, And he that performs best, can have no better. I'm e'en as happy then that save a labour. [Exit Sophonirus. Tyr. Thy honours with thy daughter's love shall rise, I shall read thy deservings in her eyes. Helv. O may they be eternal books of pleasure, To show you all delight! Gov. The loss of her sits closer to my heart Than that of kingdom, or the whorish pomp Of this world's titles, that with flattery swells us, And makes us die like beasts fat for destruction. O she's a woman, and her eye will stand Upon advancement, never weary yonder; But when she turns her head by chance, and sees The fortunes that are my companions, She'll snatch her eyes off, and repent the looking. Tyr. 'Tis well advised; we doom thee, To banishment for ever from our kingdom. Gov. What could be worse to one whose heart is lock'd Up in another's bosom? Banishment! And why not death? is that too easy for me? Tyr. But that the world would call our way to dignity A path of blood, it should be the first act In all our reign. Gov. She's lost for ever; farewell, vir tuous men, Too honest for your greatness! now you're mightier Than when we knew the kingdom, your style's heavier Than ponderous nobility; farewell! 3rd Nobl. How's that, sir? Gov. Weighty and serious! O sir! is it you? I knew you one-and-twenty and a lord, When your discretion suck'd; is't come from nurse yet? You scorn to be a scholar, you were born better, You have good lands, that's the best grounds of learning; If you can construe but your doctor's bill, Parse your wife's waiting-women, and decline your tenants "Till they're all beggars, with new fines and rackings, You're scholar good enough, for a lady's son That's born to living; if you list to read, Th' affliction of my soul; he'll have all parts Enter the Lady clad in black, with Suffer together; now I see my loss: In honour's glorious day, the sky so clear? Why mourns the kingdom's mistress? does she come To meet advancement in a funeral garment? Back! [to the Attendants.] she forgot herself, 'twas too much joy That bred this error, and we heartily pardon't. Go, bring me her hither like an illustrious bride With her best beams about her, let her jewels Be worth ten cities, that beseems our mistress, And not a widow's case, a suit to weep in. Lady. I have a mind That must be shifted ere I cast off these, Or I shall wear strange colours;-'tis not titles, Nor all the bastard honours of this frame That I am taken with; I come not hither To please the eye of glory, but of goodness, And that concerns not you, sir, you're for greatness; I dare not deal with you, I have found my match, And I will never lose him. Gov. If there be man Above a king in fortunes, read my story, And you shall find him there; farewell, poor kingdom! Take it to help thee, thou hast need on't now; I see thee in distress, more miserable Than some thou lay'st taxations on, poor subjects! Thou'rt all beset with storms, more over cast Than ever any man that brightness flatter'd. 'Tis only wretchedness to be there with thee, And happiness to be here. Tyr. Sure some dream crown'd me ; If it were possible to be less than nothing, I wake the man you seek for :-there's the kingdom Within yon valley fixt; while I stand here Kissing false hopes upon a frozen moun tain Without the confines. I am he that's banish'd. The king walks yonder chose by her affections, Which is the surer side, for when she goes Her eye removes the court; what is he here Can spare a look? they're all employ'd on her. Helvetius, thou art not worth the waking neither, I lose but time in thee, go, sleep again Like an old man, thou can'st do nothing; Thou takest no pains at all to earn thine honours; Which way shall we be able to pay thee To thy content, when we receive not ours? The master of the work must needs decay When he wants means and sees his servants play. Helv. To his daughter]. Have I bestow'd so many blessings on thee, And do they all return to me in curses? Is that the use I've for them? be not to me As poor as virtue, and almost as friendless, I would not change this misery for that sceptre, Wherein I had part with him; sir, be cheerful, 'Tis not the reeling fortune of great state, Or low condition, that I cast mine eye at, It is the man I seek, the rest I lose, As things unworthy to be kept or noted; Fortunes are but the outsides of true worth, It is the mind that sets his master forth. Tyr. Have there so many bodies been hewn down Like trees, in progress to cut out a way That was more known for us and our affections, And is our game so cross'd? There stands the first Of all her kind that ever refused greatness, A woman to set light by sovereignty! What age can bring her forth, and hide that book! 'Tis their desire most commonly to rule, More than their part comes to, sometimes their husbands. Helv. 'Tis in your power, my lord, to force her to you, And pluck her from his arms. Tyr. Thou talk'st unkindly; That had been done before thy thought begot it, If my affection could be so hard-hearted, To stand upon such payment; it must |