had rendered contemptible in Lucio, and hateful in Iachimo, was the very character that the dramatists of Charles's time were painting after the model of the court favorites, and representing in false colors as a deserving object of approbation. French taste and French morals had banished our author from the stage, and his name had faded from the memory of the people. Tate, in his altered play of King Lear, mentions the original in his dedication as an obscure piece the author of the Tatler, in quoting some lines from Macbeth, cites them from the disfigured alteration of D'Avenant. The works of Shakspeare were only read by those whom the desire of literary plunder induced to pry into the volumes of antiquated authors, with the hopes of discovering some neglected jewels that might be clandestinely transplanted to enrich their own poverty of invention; and so little were the productions of the most gifted poet that ever ventured to embark on the varying waters of the imagination known to the generality of his countrymen, that Otway stole the character of the Nurse and all the love scenes of Romeo and Juliet, and published them as his own, without the slightest acknowledgment of the obligation, or any apprehension of detection. A better taste returned: but when, nearly a ceutury after the death of Shakspeare, Rowe undertook to superintend an edition of his Plays, and to collect the Memoirs of his Life, the race had passed away from whom any certain recollections of our great national poet might have been gathered; and nothing better can be obtained than the slight notes of Aubrey, the scattered hints of Oldys, the loose intimations which had escaped from D'Avenant, and the vague reports which Betterton had gleaned in his pilgrimage to Stratford.

BE thou blest Bertram! and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.

TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE.

I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,

In our heart's fable; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.

COWARDICE.

I know him a notorious liar,

Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,

That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind.

THE REMEDY OF EVILS GENERALLY IN
OURSELVES.

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky.
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.

CHARACTER OF A NOBLE COURTIER.

In his youth

He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand:§ who were below hun
He us'd as creatures of another place:
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility.

Such a man

Might be a copy to these younger times.

Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his

resemblance was pourtrayed.

+ Peculiarity of feature.

§ His is put for its.

+Countenance.

ACT II.

HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, NOT TO

BIRTH.

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed: Where great additions* swell, and virtue none,

It is a dropsied honour: good alone

Is good, without a name; vileness is so:†
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoer: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,

Where dust and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed.

ACT III.

SELF-ACCUSATION OF TOO GREAT LOVE.

Poor Lord! is't I

That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event

Of the non-sparing war? and is it I

That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,

That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord!
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;

* Titles.

† Good is good independent of any worldly distinction, and so is vileness vile.