The otes of clowns are from the courts of told him that "the fault lay more in his Majesty's kings,

The Sad Shepherd; or, a Tale of
Robin Hood.

THE SAD SHEPHERD.] This exquisite fragment first appeared in the folio, 1641. It was evidently the author's last work for the stage; and it is commonly said that he left it unfinished. Either the palsy had remitted its hold upon his faculties, or (to use a trite expression), like a dying taper, he had collected all his powers for one bright blaze before they sunk for ever; for the Tale of Robin Hood is replete with beauties of every kind, and may securely challenge not only the comparison "with Sicily and Greece," (claimed for it by the author), but with the pastoral fables of any other age or country. The folio has this motto from Virgil:

Nec erubuit sylvas habitare Thaleia.

An attempt was made to "continue and complete this piece" by Mr. Waldron. The effort, though bold, was laudable, and the success highly honourable to his talents and ingenuity. To say that he fell short of Jonson is saying nothing to his discredit; but, in justice to the modest and unpretending continuator, it may fairly be added, that there are not many dramatic writers in our language to whose compositions the powers which he has displayed in his Supplement, will be found to be very unequal.

[Had Malone or Weber been the author of Waldron's Continuation of the Sad Shepherd, 8vo, 1783, it would have been spoken of by Gifford in very different terms. By the side of Jonson's rich and vigorous verse it appears as feeble and languid as the slipslop narrative which Earl Stanhope has so modestly given to the world as a continuation of Macaulay.-F.C.]

THE ARGUMENT.

ACT I.

Robin Hood, having invited all the shepherds and shepherdesses of the vale of Belvoir to a feast in the forest of Sherwood, and trusting to his mistress, Maid Marian, with her woodmen, to kill him venison against the day: having left the like charge with Friar Tuck, his chaplain and steward, to command the rest of his merry men to see the bower made ready, and all things in order for the entertainment: meeting with his guests at their entrance into the wood, welcomes and conducts them to his bower. Where, by the way, he receives the relation of the SAD SHEPHERD, Æglamour, who is fallen into a deep melancholy for the loss of his beloved Earine, reported to have been drowned in passing over the Trent some few days before. They endeavour in what they can to comfort him: but his disease having taken such strong root, all is in vain, and they are forced to leave him. In the meantime, Marian is come from hunting with the huntsmen, where the lovers interchangeably express their loves. Robin Hood inquires if she hunted the deer at force, and what sport he made? how long he stood, and what head he bore? All which is briefly answered, with a relation of breaking him up, and the

raven and her bone. The suspect had of that raven to be Maudlin, the witch of Paplewick, whom one of the huntsmen met in the morning at the rousing of the deer, and [which] is confirmed, by her being then in Robin Hood's kitchen, in the chimneycorner, broiling the same bit which was thrown to the raven at the quarry or fall of the deer. Marian being gone in to shew the deer to some of the shepherdesses, returns instantly to the scene, discontented; sends away the venison she had killed to her they call the witch; quarrels with her love Robin Hood, abuseth him and his guests the shepherds; and so departs, leaving them all in wonder and perplexity.

ACT II.

The witch Maudlin having taken the shape of Marian to abuse Robin Hood and perplex his guests, cometh forth with her daughter Douce, reporting in what confusion she had left them; defrauded them of their venison, made them suspicious each of the other; but most of all Robin Hood so jealous of his Marian, as she hopes no effect of love would ever reconcile them; glorying so far in the extent of her mischief, as she confesseth to have surprised Earine, stripped her of her garments to make her daughter appear fine at this feast in them; and to have shut the maiden up in a tree, as her son's prize, if he could win her; or his prey, if he would force her. Her son, a rude bragging swineherd, comes to the tree to woo her (his mother and sister stepping aside to overhear him), and first boasts his wealth to her, and his possessions; which move not. Then he presents her gifts such as himself is taken with, but she utterly shows a scorn and loathing both of him and them. His mother is angry, rates him, instructs him what to do the next time, and persuades her daughter to show herself about the bower: tells how she shall know her mother when she is transformed by her broidered belt. Meanwhile, the young shepherdess Amie, being kist by Karolin, Earine's brother, falls in love; but knows not what love is: but describes her disease so innocently, that Marian pities her. When Robin Hood and the rest of his guests invited, enter to Marian, upbraiding her with sending away their venison to Mother Maudlin by Scathlock, which she denies; Scathlock affirms it; but seeing his mistress weep, and to forswear it, begins to doubt his own understanding, rather than affront her farther; which makes Robin Hood and the rest to examine themselves better. But Maudlin the witch, entering like herself, comes to thank her for her bounty: at which Marian is more angry, and more denies the deed. Scathlock enters, tells he has brought it again, and delivered it to the cook. The witch is inwardly vext the venison is so recovered from her by the rude huntsman, and murmurs and curses; bewitches the cook, mocks poor Amie and the rest; discovereth her ill nature, and is a means of reconciling them all. For the sage shepherd suspecteth her mischief, if she be not prevented and so persuadeth to seize on her. Whereupon Robin Hood dispatcheth out his woodmen to hunt and take her.

ACT III.

Puck-hairy discovereth himself in the forest, and discourseth his offices, with their necessities, briefly; after which, Douce entering in the habit of Earine, is pursued by Karol; who (mistaking her at first to be his sister) questions her how she came by those garments. She answers by her mother's gift. The Sad Shepherd coming in the while, she runs away affrighted, and leaves Karol suddenly. Eglamour thinking it to be Earine's ghost he saw, falls into a melancholic expression of his phant'sie to Karol, and questions him sadly about that point, which moves compassion in Karol of his mistake still. When Clarion and Lionel enter to call Karol to Amie, Karol reports to them Æglamour's passion with much regret. Clarion resolves to seek him. Karol to return with Lionel. By the way, Douce and her mother (in the shape of Marian) meet them, and would divert them, affirming Amie to be recovered, which Lionel wondered at to be so soon. Robin Hood enters, they tell him the relation of the witch, thinking her to be Marian; Robin suspecting her to be Maudlin, lays hold of her girdle suddenly, but she striving to get free, they both run out, and he returns with the belt broken. She following in her own shape, demanding it, but at a distance, as fearing to be seized upon again; and seeing she cannot recover it, falls into a rage and cursing,

resolving to trust to her old arts, which she calls her daughter to assist in. The shepherds, content with this discovery, go home triumphing, make the relation to Marian. Amie is gladded with the sight of Karol, &c. In the meantime enters Lorel, with purpose to ravish Earine, and calling her forth to that lewd end, he by the hearing of Clarion's footing is staid, and forced to commit her hastily to the tree again; where Clarion coming by, and hearing a voice singing, draws near unto it; but Æglamour hearing it also, and knowing it to be Earine's, falls into a superstitious commendation of it, as being an angel's, and in the air; when Clarion espies a hand put forth from the tree, and makes towards it, leaving Æglamour to his wild phant'sie, who quitteth the place and Clarion beginning to court the hand, and make love to it, there ariseth a mist suddenly, which darkening all the place, Clarion loseth himself and the tree where Earine is inclosed, lamenting his misfortune, with the unknown nymph's misery. The air clearing, enters the witch, with her son and daughter, tells them how she had caused that late darkness, to free Lorel from surprisal, and his prey from being rescued from him: bids him look to her, and lock her up more carefully, and follow her, to assist a work she hath in hand of recovering her lost girdle; which she laments the loss of with cursings, execrations, wishing confusion to their feast and meeting, sends her son and daughter to gather certain simples for her purpose, and bring them to her dell. This Puck hearing, prevents, and shews her error still. The huntsmen having found her footing follow the track, and prick after her. She gets to her dell, and takes her form. Enter [the huntsmen], Alken has spied her sitting with her spindle, threads, and images. They are eager to seize her presently, but Alken persuades them to let her begin her charms, which they do. Her son and daughter come to her; the huntsmen are affrighted as they see her work go forward. And overhasty to apprehend her, she escapeth them all by the help and delusions of Puck.

ENTER THE PROLOGUE.

He that hath feasted you these forty years,1
And fitted fables for your finer ears,

Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;
Yet you, with patience harkening more and more,
At length have grown up to him, and made known
The working of his pen is now your own:
He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,
To hear him this once more, but sit awake.
And though he now present you with such wool,
As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,
He hopes when it is made up into cloth,
Not the most curious head here will be loth
To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,
To match, or those of Sicily or Greece.2
His scene is Sherwood, and his play a Tale
Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale

He that hath feasted you these forty years,] If we suppose this to have been written the year before the poet's death, this will carry up the commencement of his dramatic career to 1595-6, and we know from Mr. Henslowe's memorandums that he wrote for the stage at that early period.

2 To match, or those of Sicily or Greece.] In this Jonson is echoed by Horne Tooke, who was one of his warmest and steadiest admirers, and whose works are crowded with unnoticed quotations from him. By the fleeces of Sicily and Greece are understood the pastoral poems of Theocritus, Moschus, and Bion.

Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast:
Where, by the casual absence of one guest,
The mirth is troubled much, and in one man
As much of sadness shewn as passion can:
The sad young shepherd, whom we here present,
Like his woes figure, dark and discontent,

[The Sad Shepherd passeth silently over the stage.

For his lost love, who in the Trent is said
To have miscarried; 'las! what knows the head?
Of a calm river, whom the feet have drowned?—
Hear what his sorrows are; and if they wound
Your gentle breasts, so that the end crown all,
Which in the scope of one day's chance may fall;
Old Trent will send you more such tales as these,
And shall grow young again as one doth please.

[Exit, but instantly re-enters.

But here's an heresy of late let fall,3
That mirth by no means fits a Pastoral;
Such say so who can make none, he presumes:
Else there's no scene more properly assumes
The sock. For whence can sport in kind arise,
But from the rural routs and families?

Safe on this ground then, we not fear to-day,
To tempt your laughter by our rustic play;
Wherein if we distaste, or be cried down,
We think we therefore shall not leave the town;
Nor that the fore-wits that would draw the rest
Unto their liking, always like the best.
The wise and knowing critic will not say,
This worst, or better is, before he weigh

Whêr every piece be perfect in the kind:

And then, though in themselves he difference find,
Yet if the place require it where they stood,
The equal fitting makes them equal good.
You shall have love and hate, and jealousy,
As well as mirth, and rage, and melancholy:
Or whatsoever else may either move,

Or stir affections, and your likings prove.

But that no style for Pastoral should go

Current, but what is stamped with Ah! and O!

Who judgeth so, may singularly err;

As if all poesie had one character

1 Like his woe's figure,] It appears that Eglamour wore blacks, and was further distinguished by a wreath of cypress and yew.

2 'Las! what knows the head, &c.] This is imitated from Donne:

"Greatest and fairest Empress, know you this?

Alas! no more than Thames' calm head doth know,

Whose meads his arms drown, or whose corn o'erflow."-Sat. 5.

Jonson seems to have taken his delineation of a river (which is less common, and indeed less graceful than Donne's), from the pictures in Drayton's Polyolbion, of which he was a careful reader, and in this pastoral, an occasional imitator.

3 But here's an heresy of late let fall, &c.] One would be tempted to think that Jonson had his treacherous friend Drummond of Hawthornden in view, were it not that this gentleman, whose prudence was almost equal to his malignity, kept his libel to himself, at least while the poet lived. Jonson bringeth in (he says) clowns making mirth and foolish sports, contrary to all other pastorals." Fol. p. 224. The criticism is worthy of the critic. What would Drummond have clowns brought in for? To settle the dispute between the Romish and Reformed Churches? That had been done by Spenser and others--but Jonson wants no assistance from me.