modern times of vicious associations with things indifferent (for there is a state of manners conceivable so pure, that the language of Hamlet at Ophelia's feet might be a harmless rallying, or playful teazing, of a shame that would exist in Paradise)— at the worst, how diverse in kind is it from Beaumont and Fletcher's! In Shakspeare it is the mere generalities of sex, mere words for the most part, seldom or never distinct images, all head-work, and fancy-drolleries; there is no sensation supposed in the speaker. I need not proceed to contrast this with B. and F. ROLLO. HIS is, perhaps, the most energetic of Flet Tcher's' tragedies. He evidently aimed at a new Richard III. in Rollo ;—but as in all his other imitations of Shakspeare, he was not philosopher enough to bottom his original. Thus, in Rollo, he has produced a mere personification of outrageous wickedness, with no fundamental characteristic impulses to make either the tyrant's words or actions philosophically intelligible. Hence the most pathetic situations border on the horrible, and what he meant for the terrible, is either hateful, rÒ μισηTòv, or ludicrous. The scene of Baldwin's sentence in the third act is probably the grandest working of passion in all B. and F.'s dramas;—but the very magnificence of filial affection given to Edith, in this noble scene, renders the after scene-(in imitation of one of the least Shakspearian of all Shakspeare's works, if it be his, the scene between Richard and Lady Anne,)—in which Edith is yielding to a few words and tears, not only unnatural, but disgusting. In Shakspeare, Lady Anne is described as a weak, vain, very woman throughout. Act i. sc. 1. Gis. He is indeed the perfect character Of a good man, and so his actions speak him. This character of Aubrey, and the whole spirit of this and several other plays of the same authors, are interesting as traits of the morals which it was fashionable to teach in the reigns of James I. and his successor, who died a martyr to them. Stage, pulpit, law, fashion,—all conspired to enslave the realm. Massinger's plays breathe the opposite spirit; Shakspeare's the spirit of wisdom which is for all ages. By the by, the Spanish dramatists— Calderon, in particular,-had some influence in this respect, of romantic loyalty to the greatest monsters, as well as in the busy intrigues of B. and F.'s plays. THE WILDGOOSE CHASE. ACT II. sc. 1. Belleur's speech: -That wench, methinks, If I were but well set on, for she is a fable, If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me. SYM jects, and says, 'the next line seems to enforce' the reading in the text. Pity, that the editor did not explain wherein the sense,' seemingly enforced by the next line,' consists. May the true word be a sable,' that is, a black fox, hunted for its precious fur? Or at-able,' -as we now say,—-' she is come-at-able? ' A WIFE FOR A MONTH. ACT IV. sc. 1. Alphonso's speech :- Seward's note and alteration to 6 'Twixt the cold bears, far from the raging lion— HIS Mr. Seward is a blockhead of the pro THI voking species. In his itch for correction, he forgot the words' lies my safe way!' The Bear is the extreme pole, and thither he would travel over the space contained between it and the raging THE PILGRIM. ACT IV. sc. 2. A LINDA'S interview with her father is lively, and happily hit off; but this scene with Roderigo is truly excellent. Altogether, indeed, this play holds the first place in B. and F.'s romantic entertainments, Lustspiele, which collectively are their happiest performances, and are only inferior to the romance of Shakspeare in the As you Like It, Twelfth Night, &c. Ib. Alin. To-day you shall wed Sorrow, Read Penitence,' or else— Repentance, she will come to-morrow. THE QUEEN OF CORINTH. ACT II. sc. 1. ME ERIONE'S speech. Had the scene of this tragi-comedy been laid in Hindostan instead of Corinth, and the gods here addressed been the Veeshnoo and Co. of the Indian Pantheon, this rant would not have been much amiss. In respect of style and versification, this play and the following of Bonduca may be taken as the best, and yet as characteristic, specimens of Beaumont and Fletcher's dramas. I particularly instance the first scene of the Bonduca. Take Shakspeare's Richard II., and having selected some one scene of about the same number of lines, and consisting mostly of long speeches, compare it with the first scene in Bonduca,-not for the idle purpose of finding out which is the better, but in order to see and understand the difference. The latter, that of B. and F., you will find a well arranged bed of flowers, each having its separate root, and its position determined aforehand by the will of the gardener,-each fresh plant a fresh volition. In the former you see an Indian figtree, as described by Milton;-all is growth, evolution, yévɛσis;—each line, each word almost, begets the following, and the will of the writer is an interfusion, a continuous agency, and not a series of separate acts. Shakspeare is the height, breadth, and depth of Genius: Beaumont and Fletcher the excellent mechanism, in juxta-position and succession, of talent. THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN. WHY have the dramatists of the times of Eli zabeth, James I. and the first Charles become almost obsolete, with the exception of Shakspeare? Why do they no longer belong to the English, being once so popular? And why is |