The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks, and of estriches,
Shall be our food: and, could we get the phoenix,
Though nature lost her kind, she were our dish.
Cel. Good sir, these things might move a mind
affected

With such delights; but I, whose innocence
Is all I can think wealthy, or worth th'enjoying,
And which, once lost, I have nought to lose be-
yond it,

Cannot be taken with these sensual baits:
If you have conscience-

Volp. 'Tis the beggar's virtue;

If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia.
Thy baths shall be the juice of July-flowers,
Spirit of roses, and of violets,

The milk of unicorns, and panthers' breath*
Gather'd in bags, and mixt with Cretan wines.
Our drink shall be prepared gold and amber;

and Suetonius for further proofs of the extravagance of this lady; which, indeed, is frequently noticed by our old dramatists. Thus Machin:

." And for thee, not

"Lollia Paulina, nor those blazing stars
"Which make the world the apes of Italy,
"Shall match thyself in sun-bright splendancy."
Dumb Knight.

Milton applies this epithet (sun-bright) to the chariot of Satan, and is complimented for it by one of his editors, as having "beautifully improved" the light-bright of old Joshua Sylvester! Milton has a thousand claims to our admiration ; but that of introducing beautiful epithets into the language, is not one of them. He found them formed to his hands.

3 The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales, The brains of peacocks, and of est riches

Shall be our food :] This is a strain of luxury taken from the emperor Heliogabalus. Comedit, says Ælius Lampridius, linguas pavonum et lusciniarum: and he had the brains of 500 ostriches to furnish out a single dish. WHAL.

4 The milk of unicorns, and panthers' breath] I know not

Which we will take, until my roof whirl round
With the vertigo: and my dwarf shall dance,
My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic,
Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid's tales,
Thou, like Europa now, and I like Jove,
Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine:
So, of the rest, till we have quite run through,
And wearied all the fables of the gods.
Then will I have thee in more modern forms,
Attired like some sprightly dame of France,

for what particular quality the milk of unicorns is celebrated, the animal being confined to the terra incognita of Africa, where few can go to suck it. Pliny, indeed, observes that "the milk of camels is extremely sweet;" and this may have been in Jonson's mind:-but his knowledge was so universal, that it is very hazardous, at least in one so little read as myself, to decide upon his authorities. The sweetness of the panther's breath, or, rather, body, is sufficiently notorious. It is remarked by Pliny, Lib. xxi. c. 7. "Animalium nullum odoratum nisi de pantheris quod dictum est, credimus." Ælian also mentions it; but the passage which our author had in view was probably the following: Eκ τ8 τοματος αυτ8 ευωδία τις εξεισιν αρωματικη δι' ἧς τα άλλα ζωα θελγομενα τα εγγυς και τα πορρωθεν εγγίζεσιν αυτῷ και ETTOVTAL. Eustat. Comment. in Hexaëmeron, 4to. p. 38. Frequent allusions to this circumstance occur in our old poets. Thus Shirley: -" Your Grace is bound

"To hunt this spotted panther to his ruin,
"Whose breath is only sweet to poison virtue."

And Glapthorne,

"the panther so,

The Royal Master.

"Breathes odours precious as the fragrant gums
"Of eastern groves; but the delicious scent,
"Not taken in at distance, chokes the sense
"With the too muskie savour." The Hollander.

66

And Randolph, in some pretty stanzas to a very deformed gentlewoman, but of a voice incomparable sweet :"

"Say, monster strange, what may'st thou be?
"Whence shall I fetch thy pedigree?
"What but a panther could beget
"A beast so foul, a breath so sweet?"

Brave Tuscan lady, or proud Spanish beauty;
Sometimes, unto the Persian sophy's wife;
Or the grand signior's mistress; and, for change,
To one of our most artful courtezans,
Or some quick Negro, or cold Russian;
And I will meet thee in as many shapes:
Where we may so transfuse our wandering souls
Out at our lips, and score up sums of pleasures,
[Sings.

That the curious' shall not know
How to tell them as they flow;
And the envious, when they find
What their number is, be pined.

Cel. If you have ears that will be pierced-or eyes

That can be open'd-a heart that may be touch'd—
Or any part that yet sounds man about you-
If you have touch of holy saints-or heaven-
Do me the grace to let me 'scape-if not,
Be bountiful and kill me. You do know,
I am a creature, hither ill betray'd,
By one, whose shame I would forget it were:
If you will deign me neither of these graces,
Yet feed your wrath, sir, rather than your lust,
(It is a vice comes nearer manliness,)

5 That the curious, &c.] These lines form an elegant imitation of the concluding hendecasyllables from Catullus, (p. 254,) and are reprinted, together with the rest, in The Forest, a collection of the author's smaller poems.

It would scarcely be just to Jonson's merits to pass over this admirable scene without remarking on the boundless fertility of his mind. Temptations are heaped upon temptations with a rapidity which almost outstrips the imagination; and a richness, variety, and beauty, which render mean and base all the allure ments that preceding poets have invented and combined, to facilitate the overthrow of purity and virtue.

And punish that unhappy crime of nature,
Which you miscall my beauty: flay my face,
Or poison it with ointments, for seducing
Your blood to this rebellion. Rub these hands,
With what may cause an eating leprosy,
E'en to my bones and marrow any thing,
That may disfavour me, save in my honour-
And I will kneel to you, pray for you, pay down
A thousand hourly vows, sir, for your health;
Report, and think you virtuous-

Volp. Think me cold,

Frozen and impotent, and so report me?
That I had Nestor's hernia, thou wouldst think.
I do degenerate, and abuse my nation,
To play with opportunity thus long;

I should have done the act, and then have parley'd.

Yield, or I'll force thee.

Cel. O! just God!

Volp. In vain

[Seizes her.

Bon. [rushing in.] Forbear, foul ravisher! libi- .

dinous swine!

Free the forced lady, or thou diest, impostor.
But that I'm loth to snatch thy punishment
Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst, yet,
Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance,
Before this altar, and this dross, thy idol.--
Lady, let's quit the place, it is the den
Of villainy; fear nought, you have a guard:
And he, ere long, shall meet his just reward.
[Exeunt Bon. and Cel.
Volp. Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin!
Become my grave, that wert my shelter! O!
I am unmask'd, unspirited, undone,
Betray'd to beggary, to infamy-

Enter Mosca, wounded, and bleeding.

Mos. Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men,

To beat out my unlucky brains ?

Volp. Here, here.

What! dost thou bleed?

Mos. O that his well-driv'n sword

Had been so courteous to have cleft me down
Unto the navel, ere I lived to see

My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all
Thus desperately engaged, by my error!
Volp. Woe on thy fortune!

Mos. And my follies, sir.

Volp. Thou hast made me miserable.

Mos. And myself, sir.

Who would have thought he would have hearken'd so?

Volp. What shall we do?

Mos. I know not; if my heart

Could expiate the mischance, I'd pluck it out. Will you be pleased to hang me, or cut my throat? And I'll requite you, sir. Let's die like Romans, Since we have lived like Grecians.

[Knocking within.

Let's die like Romans,] i. e. by our own hands, fearlessly. Since we have lived like Grecians; like debauchees : pergræcari, as Upton observes, from Plautus, is "to spend the hours in mirth, wine, and banquets." All this is very well; but when he adds, "Hence the proverb, as merry as a Greek;" and "hence too Sebastian in Twelfth-Night, calls the clown foolish Greek, for his unseasonable mirth;" he talks as idly, as the commentators on Shakspeare usually do, on this subject. How often will it be necessary to observe, that our old dramatists affixed no appropriate idea to these patronymic appellations; which were used merely as augmentatives, and must be understood from the context? To be as mad or as merry, as foolish or as wise, as Greeks, Trojans, Lacedemonians, &c. (for all these terms were indiscriminately used) was simply to be very