The play, which is founded on actual history, is far from being a very pleasing one. Fletcher forgot his own power when he attempted to tread in the steps of Shakspeare. The talent of displaying supernatural agency seems to have been exclusively confined to the latter, and our poet fails whenever he ventures to introduce it. In the present drama he has thrown away an abundance of beautiful poetry upon a plot at best injudicious; it is, perhaps, not too harsh to call it disagreeable. He had succeeded in his Roman tragedies of Valentinian and the False One, which proves that he was not unequal to the task. But the Prophetess is infinitely inferior to either of these tragedies. Setting aside the unskilfullycontrived machinery, the plot takes too wide a range, and the obsolete use of the chorus, which, even in the hands of Shakspeare, proves but a clumsy imitation of the ancients, was a great proof of want of judgment. But Fletcher seemed to be determined in this play to imitate the incoherency of Shakspeare's plots, without being able to conciliate the critic by the display of those powers which counterbalance all want of regularity in his great predecessor: his choruses "waft us o'er the seas;" the scene wanders from Rome to Persia, from thence it returns and visits Lombardy, where the play is somewhat abruptly concluded. -The delineation of the characters is certainly more fortunate; but still it is less determinate than in Bonduca, and the two tragedies mentioned above, where the Romans are painted with great national precision. Maximinian bears no comparison to Valentinian; nor can Niger pretend to any competition with Aëcius, or Sceva. The revolutions in the mind of Dioclesian, however, are very skilfully pourtrayed. He is very judiciously not made a perfect character; and his aspiring thoughts at the outset, corrected by his subsequent conviction of the vanity of greatness, afford a fine lesson of morality. Nor should we pass over without notice the jester Geta. Whatever objections have been or may be raised against the medley of farce with tragedy, every one who wishes to enjoy the productions of our elder dramatists must content himself with suffering the practice, and the question cannot be, why the poets have adopted it against the monitions of Aristotle, and some of their own contemporaries, but whether the low scenes introduced by them possess real humour or not. Taking the subject in this light, it may be safely asserted, that the mock-dignity of a clown raised suddenly to power has seldom been better delineated than in the scenes of this play, where Geta appears, and assumes authority little fitted for the capacity of his mind.-Upon the female characters in this play Fletcher seems to have bestowed little attention. Aurelia is like other wavering and yet ambitious women; and Drusilla never rises above the level of a common mind, amiable, unassuming, and of a strong attachment.

The poetry of this play rises far above the merit of the general construction. The versification is very harmonious; there is great eloquence, and even majesty, in some of the speeches, and great tenderness in others. The last scene, with the exception of Delphia's unfortunate conjurations, is highly picturesque, and reminds us of a beautiful scene in the Pilgrim, and many exqui site pictures of still life in the Faithful Shepherdess.

Charinus, emperor of Rome.

Cosroe, king of Persia.

Diocles, of a private soldier elected co-emperor, afterward called Dioclesian.

Maximinian,' nephew to Diocles, and emperor by his donation.

Volutius Aper, murderer of Numerianus, the late

emperor.

Niger, a noble soldier, servant to the emperor.
Camurius, a captain, and creature of Aper.
Geta, a jester, servant to Diocles, a merry knave.

Persian Lords.

Senators.

Soldiers.

Guard.

Suitors.

Ambassadors.

Lictors.

Flamen.

Countrymen.

Shepherds.
Attendants.

Spirits.

Chorus.

Aurelia, sister to Charinus.

Cassana, sister to Cosroe, a captive, waiting on Aurelia.
Delphia, a Prophetess.

Drusilla, niece to Delphia, in love with Diocles.
A She-devil.

SCENE,-Rome, and other parts of the Empire ; in part of the Fourth Act, Persia.*

'Maximinian.] Mason contends that we should read Maximian, and produces two passages where the metre might be mended; but fifty might be produced where it would be ruined by such an alteration.

The principal actors were, John Lowin, Robert Benfield, John Shanke, Richard Sharpe, Joseph Taylor, Nicholas Toolie, George Birch, Thomas Holcombe.-Fol. 1679.

THE

PROPHETESS...

ACT I. SCENE I.

Rome. An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter CHARINUS, AURELIA, and NIGER.

Char. You buz into my head strange likelihoods, And fill me full of doubts: But what proofs, Niger, What certainties, that my most noble brother Came to his end by murder? Tell me that; Assure me by some circumstance.

Niger. I will, sir;

And as I tell you truth, so the gods prosper me! I have often named this Aper,

Char. True, you have done;

And in mysterious senses I have heard you.
Break out o' th' sudden, and abruptly.

Niger. True, sir;

Fear of your unbelief, and the time's giddiness,
Made me I durst not then go

grace please,

further. So your

Out of your wonted goodness, to give credit,
I shall unfold the wonder.

Aur. Do it boldly:

You shall have both our hearty loves and hearings. Niger. This Aper then, this too-much-honour'd villain,

(For he deserves no mention of a good man).
Great sir, give ear-this most ungrateful, spiteful,
Above the memory of mankind mischievous,
With his own bloody hands-

Char. Take heed!

Niger. I am in, sir;

And, if I make not good my story--
Aur. Forward!

I see a truth would break out: Be not fearful.
Niger. I say, this Aper, and his damn'd ambition,
Cut off your brother's hopes, his life, and fortunes:
The honour'd Numerianus fell by him,

Fell basely, most untimely, and most treacherously;
For, in his litter, as he bore him company,
Most privately and cunningly he kill❜d him.
Yet still he fills the faithful soldiers' ears
With stories of his weakness; of his life;
That he dare not venture to appear in open,
And shew his warlike face among the soldiers,
The tenderness and weakness of his eyes,
Being not able to endure the sun yet:
Slave that he is, he gives out this infirmity
(Because he would dispatch his honour too)
To arise from wantonness, and love of women;
And thus he juggles still.

Aur. Oh, most pernicious,

Most bloody, and most base! Alas, dear brother,