Lio. And all these deeds were seen without offence, Or the least hazard of their innocence. Rob. Those charitable times had no mistrust: Shepherds knew how to love, and not to lust. Cla. Each minute that we lose thus, I confess, Deserves a censure on us, more or less; But that a sadder chance hath given allay Both to the mirth and music of this day. Our fairest shepherdess we had of late Here upon Trent is drowned; for whom her mate, Young Æglamour, a swain, who best could tread Our country dances, and our games did lead, Lives like the melancholy turtle, drowned Deeper in woe than she in water: crowned With yew and cypress, and will scarce admit The physic of our presence to his fit. Lio. Sometimes he sits and thinks all Enter Karolin. Kar. Sure he's here about. Cla. See where he sits. [Points to bank hard by. glamour, sitting upon à Eg. It will be rare, rare, rare! An exquisite revenge! but peace, no words! Not for the fairest fleece of all the flock: If it be known afore, 'tis all worth nothing! I'll carve it on the trees, and in the turf, On every green sward, and in every path, Just to the margin of the cruel Trent. There will I knock the story in the ground, In smooth great pebble, and moss fill it round, Till the whole country read how she was drowned; And with the plenty of salt tears there shed, Quite alter the complexion of the spring. Or I will get some old, old, grandam thither, Whose rigid foot but dipped into the water Shall strike that sharp and sudden cold throughout, As it shall lose all virtue; and those nymphs, Those treacherous nymphs pulled in Earine, Shall stand curled up like images of ice, And never thaw! mark, never! a sharp justice! Or stay, a better! when the year's at hottest, And that the dog-star foams, and the stream boils, And curls, and works, and swells ready to sparkle, To fling a fellow with a fever in, Blue as Scamander 'fore the walls of Troy, When Vulcan leaped into him to consume him. Rob. A deep hurt phant'sie! [They approach him. Eg. Do you not approve it? Rob. Yes, gentle Æglamour, we all Eg. A spring, now she is dead! of what? of thorns, Briars and brambles? thistles, burs, and docks? Cold hemlock, yew? the mandrake, or the box? These may grow still; but what can spring beside? Did not the whole earth sicken when she died? As if there since did fall one drop of dew, But what was wept for her! or any stalk Did bear a flower, or any branch a bloom, After her wreath was made!! In faith, in faith, As it were hung so for her exequies ! And not a voice or sound to ring her knell, But of that dismal pair, the scritching owl, And buzzing hornet! Hark! hark! hark! the foul Bird! how she flutters with her wicker wings! Peace! you shall hear her scritch. [Sings, while Eg. reads the song. Though I am young and cannot tell3 You do not fair to put these things upon Either what Death or Love is well, me, Yet I have heard they both bear darts, And then again, I have been told, As in a ruin we it call Or to our end, like way may have, Eg. Do you think so? are you in that I mean, opinion? if you be, say nothing: I'll study it as a new philosophy, But by myself, alone: now you shall leave me. Some of these nymphs here will reward you; this, This pretty maid, although but with a kiss. [He forces Amie to kiss Karolin. prejudice against Jonson is strongly exemplified in the neglect of his minor poems. While even the worst of Shakspeare's pieces have been sought out with avidity (nay, the silly trash which passes under his name, such as "When I was a little tiny boy," &c.), and set to music, a number of exquisite songs dispersed among the works of Jonson remain wholly unnoticed. and though it be too much perhaps to expect a "All is but fortune," as Stephano truly observes; Mus. Doc. to read for himself, yet he may fairly be expected to follow the fashion; and Jonson times is certain; the song before us was set to may yet have his turn. That he was not thus overlooked by the great composers of former music by Nicholas Lanneare, and inserted in the compilation of Ayres and Dialogues, by Henry Lawes, 1653. Here every day with wonder on the wold. Lio. And with fame's voice. Alken. Save that some folk delight To blend all good of others with some spight. Cla. He and his Marian are the sum and talk Of all that breathe here in the green-wood walk. Mel. Or Belvoir vale. Lio. The turtles of the wood. Alken. And so are understood For simple loves, and sampled lives beside. Mel. Faith, so much virtue should not be envied. Alken. Better be so than pitied, Mellifleur: For 'gainst all envy, virtue is a cure; 1 The lovers' scriptures, Heliodores or Tatii, Longi, &c.] For the first two see vol. ii. p. 267 a. Longus is the author of the beautiful pastoral of Daphnis and Chloe; Eustathius of the story of Ismene and Ismenias; and Prodromus of a love tale in metre called Doricles and Rhodantes. 2 All the sweet morsels called tongue, ears, and dowcets!] [This word occurred before, in The Magnetic Lady, p. 430 a.] Mar. In a full cry. John. And never hunted change !! No young rash dogs, no more than changing friends. Rob. What relays set you? John. None at all; we laid not In one fresh dog. Rob. He stood not long then? Scar. Yes, Of which a little gristle grows; you call it Rob. The raven's bone. Mar. Now o'er head sat a raven, On a sere bough, a grown great bird, and hoarse ! Who, all the while the deer was breaking up, Five hours and more. A great, large So croaked and cried for it, as all the deer! 1 And never hunted change!] Hounds are said to hunt change when they take a fresh scent and follow another chase.-WHAL. I love these interruptions in a story;] How beautifully is this touched by Milton! "Her husband the relater, she preferred Before the angel-he would intermix As the assay is taken.] To take the assay or say, is to draw a knife along the belly of the deer, beginning at the brisket, to discover how fat he is.-WHAL. This was a mere ceremony: the knife was put into the hands of the "best person" in the field, and drawn lightly down the belly, that the chief huntsman might be entitled to his fee. When this was done, the making of the arbor, in plain English, the cutting up of the game, was entrusted to more skilful operators. What follows huntsmen, Especially old Scathlock, thought it ominous; Swore it was Mother Maudlin, whom he met At the day-dawn, just as he roused the deer Out of his lair: but we made shift to run him Off his four legs, and sunk him ere we left. Enter Scathlock. Is the deer come? Scath. He lies within on the dresser. Mar. Will you go see him, Mellifleur? Mel. I attend you. Mar. Come, Amie, you'll go with us? Amie. I am not well. Lio. She's sick of the young shepherd that bekissed her.4 Mar. Friend, cheer your friends up, we will eat him merrily. [Exeunt Mar. Mell. and Amie. Alken. Saw you the raven, friend? Scath. Ay, wha suld let me? I suld be afraid o' you, sir, suld I? in the text is not found in the Gentleman's Recreation: but is thus noticed by the good prioress of St. Albans. "Slitteth anone The belly to the side from the corbyn bone, That is corbyn's fee, at the deth he will be." And more fully by Tuberville, whom the poet might have in view. "There is (says he), a little gristle, which is upon the spoone of the brisket, which we call the raven's bone; because it is cast up to the crows or ravens which attend hunters. And I have seen in some places a raven so wont and accustomed to it that she while you were in breaking up of the deare, and would never fayle to croake and cry for it all the would not depart until she had it."-P. 135. kissed her.] So Shirley: She's sick of the young shepherd that be "I should gather The Sisters. 1 They call her a wise woman, but I think her An arrant witch.] A wise woman was a fortune-teller, a recoverer of stolen goods, &c. In some of our old writers indeed she takes a higher character, and deals with familiars. She is then a white-witch, and is meritoriously employed in counteracting the malignity of the witch Kar' εξοχην. This valuable character, once common, is now unfortunately extinct, unless the last of the race should be thought to VOL. II. Or rather ask yourselves, if she be she; Or I be I. Mar. Yes, and you are the spy; And the spied spy that watch upon my walks, To inform what deer I kill or give away! Where! when! to whom! but spy your worst, good spy, I will dispose of this where least you like! Fall to your cheese-cakes, curds, and clouted cream, Your fools, your flawns; and [swill] of ale a stream3 To wash it from your livers: strain ewes' milk Into your cyder syllabubs, and be drunk To him whose fleece hath brought the earliest lamb This year; and wears the baudric at your board! Where you may all go whistle and record This in your dance; and foot it lustily. [Exit. Rob. I pray you, friends, do you hear and see as I do? Did the same accents strike your ears? and objects Your eyes, as mine? Alken. We taste the same reproaches. Alken. And to await the issue. ACT II. SCENE I.-The Forest as before. The Witch's Dimble, cottage, oak, well, &c. Enter Maudlin in her proper shape, and Douce in the dress of Earine. Maud. Have I not left them in a brave confusion? linger with the last ghost at the village of Sampford. 2 Re-enter Marian.] i.e., Maudlin the witch, in her shape. 3 Your fools, your flawns; and of ale a stream.] Fools, as every one knows, are gooseberries boiled and beaten up with cream: flawns are custards. The sense as well as the measure of this verse is defective, so that some word was probably lost at the press. I have inserted swill at a venture. K K |