his age, a very treasure to antiquaries and commentators; no wonder, then, that he should have found favour in their sight. However, if he believed to become, by giving full play to his satirical vein, and amassing in his comedies whole sets of fools, the poet of his time par excellence, he had better consider that by strokes of this kind he scarcely wounded the covering skin, let alone the inmost soul, of public life. - Taking it not too strictly, we may compare his poetry to that of our romanticians, Bob. Who's there? up, sir. Take away the bason, good hostess; Come Tib. He would desire you to come up, sir. You come into a cleanly house, here! Enter Mathew. Mat. Save you, sir; captain! Bob. Gentle master Mathew! Is it you, sir? please you to sit down. Mat. Thank you, good captain; you may see I am somewhat audacious. Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper last night by a sort of gallants, where you were wished for, and drunk to, I assure you. Mat. Vouchsafe me, by whom, good captain? Bob. Marry, by young Wellbred, and others. stool here for this gentleman. Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well. Why, hostess, a Bob. Body o' me! it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet; I was but, new risen, as you came: how passes the day abroad, sir? you can tell. Mat. Faith, some half hour so seven: Now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private. Bob. Ay, sir: sit down, I pray you. Master Mathew, in any case possess no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Who, I, sir? no. Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient; but in regard I would not be too popular, and generally visited, as some are. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you. Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me, except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so, I could not extend thus far. Mat. O Lord, sir! I resolve so. Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book have you there? What! go by: Hieronymo? Mat. Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is't not well penned? who have treated him so scornfully. To these Goethe and Schiller, whose muse launched out into the infinity of fiction and brought home the intellectual wealth of the whole world, seemed to be more like cosmopolites than Germans; accordingly, they themselves digged for the hidden roots of nationality, and running up, for this purpose, the history of our forefathers to the times of utter darkness, and alighting upon the tales and superstitions of the middle ages, took a direction as wrong, though Bob. Well penned! I would fain see all the poets of these times pen such another play as that was: they'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art and devices, when, as I am a gentleman, read 'em, they are the most shallow, pitiful, barren fellows, that live upon the face of the earth again. (While Master Mathew reads, Bobadill makes himself ready.) Mat. Indeed here are a number of fine speeches in this book. O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears! there's a conceit! fountains fraught with tears! O life, no life, but lively form of death! another. O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs! a third. Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds! a fourth. O, the muses! Is't not excellent? Is't not simply the best that ever you heard, captain? Ha! how do you like it? Bob. 'Tis good. Mat. To thee, the purest object of my sense, The most refined essence heaven covers, If they prove rough, unpolish'd, harsh, and rude, Bob. Nay, proceed, proceed. Mat. This, sir! a toy of mine own, in my non-age; the infancy of my muses. But when will you come and see my study? good faith, I can shew you some very good things I have done of late comes your leg passing well, captain, methinks. Bob. So, so, it's the fashion gentleman now use. That boot be Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak of the fashion, master Wellbred's elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly: This other day, I happened to enter into some discourse of a hanger, which, I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptory beautiful and gentlemanlike: yet he condemned, and cried it down for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw. Bob. Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't not? Mat. Ay, sir, he. Bob. Hang him, rook! he! why he has no more judgment than a opposite to that of Ben Jonson, who caught at the flitting objects of the day. His creations shot up from the changeable surface of life, which like that of the soil produces abundance of luxurious flowers and weeds, yet may be swept away by the next shower, or dried up by the scorching sun; whereas Shakspeare "had his whole soul permeated with the ancient vitalities the things which the changes of institutions could not touch; but it could bourgeon under the new influences, and blend the malt-horse: By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal; the most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er changed words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but hay: he was born for the manger, pannier, or pack-saddle. He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron, and rusty proverbs: a good commodity for some smith to make hob-nails of. Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still, where he comes, he brags he will give me the bastinado, as I hear. grace. Bob. How! he the bastinado! how came he by that word, trow? Bob. That may be; for I was sure it was none of his word: but when, when said he so? Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say; a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so. Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an 'twere my case now, I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado! a most proper and sufficient dependence, warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither, you shall chartel him; I'll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with at pleasure; the first stoccata, if you will, by this air. Mat. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge in the mystery, I have heard, sir. Bob. Of whom, of whom, have you heard it, I beseech you? Mat. Troth, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare, and un-in-one-breath-utterable skill, sir. Bob. By heaven, no, not .I; no skill in the earth; some small rudiments in the science, as to know my time, distance; or so. I have professed it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use, than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bed-staff here quickly. Lend us another bed-staff the woman does not understand the words of action. Look you, sir: exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus: give it the gentleman, and leave us. (Exit Tib.) So, sir. Come on: 0, twine your past and the present, as the giant oak of five hundred winters is covered with the foliage of one spring!"*) With respect to the form and general character of his poetry, Jonson also had his predecessors, in the footsteps of whom he may be said to have trodden; satiric plays were not wanting before his time, and never will be in an age as prolific of wit and foolery. Like all other dramatic art, satire also derived its origin from festival entertainments: the old morals. body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentlemanlike guard; so! indifferent: hollow your body more, sir, thus: now, stand fast o' your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time oh, you disorder your point most irregularly. Mat. How is the bearing of it now, sir? Bob. O, out of measure ill: a well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure. Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me? Bob. Why, thus, sir, make a thrust at me - come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body: The bestpractised gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it. Mat. Well, come, sir. Bob. Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me. I have no spirit to play with you; your dearth of judgment renders you tedious. Mat. But one venue, sir. Bob. Venue! fie; most gross denomination as ever I heard: 0, the stoccata, while you live, sir; note that. Come, put on your cloke, and we'll go to some private place where you are aquainted; some tavern, or SO --- and have a bit. I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction; and then I will teach you your trick: you shall kill him with it at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you, by the true judgment of the eye, hand and foot, to control any enemy's point in the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this hand! you should, by the same rule, control his bullet, in a line, except it were hail-shot, and spread. What money have you about you, Master Mathew? Mat. Faith, I have not past a two shilling or so. Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least; but come; we will have a bunch of radish and salt to taste our wine, and a pipe of tobacco to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Wellbred: perhaps we shall meet the Corydon his brother there, and put him to the question. *) Charles Knight, William Shakspeare: a Biography. Ges. Abh. v. Dr. Alex. Schmidt. and interludes, such plays as Lupton's "All for Money", the "Three Ladies of London", not to omit the keen mockeries on Roman popery of the 15th and 16th centuries, the whole of which may be considered as the germ of satiric art, were farces composed for the celebration of Shrovetide or of churchales, and pretend no higher claim than similar jests acted, even at this time of day, on festival occasions. Such will have merry laughers at all events, for nobody then cares for the rules of art; nay, the very want and neglect of them will do in the like cases; and those folios and quartos, in which the studiousness of our times has carefully collected the old Miracles and Morals, may take the fancy of an antiquary, and appear valuable and interesting to an historian, yet for the sake of art, be safely committed to the flames. When, however, satire, loosed from the narrowness of occasional application, assumes the form and substance of universality which in England was effectuated by Ben Jonson -, then the case is quite different; we then require an informing idea important to all mankind and extending beyond the casual sympathies of the moment, a moral idea pouring into the body of poetry an undying soul. It is indispensable in all true poetry, but the very lifeblood of satire. To think up to it, only a mind of the most elevated sentiments is capable; but no one has occasion for more cheerfulness of disposition, more honest confidence in the good qualities of mankind, more aptness to trace, through all the eagerness of men's selfish pursuits, a subtle vein of better feeling, than the satirist who undertakes to "mould and correct the people's minds." Misanthropy and a malignant inclination to cavilling at the weaknesses of our species would be the death of the true comic. The old beaten tenet of criticism that poetry has nothing whatever, to do with philosophy and morals, may be maintainable in theory: but the primest connoisseur, when put to the proof, will' agree with the historian who views poetry as intimately connected with the motive powers of history, the desires and necessities of mankind, and brings its productions to the same standard as he does the actions and deeds of life. In this as in all other respects Shakspeare is incomparable: never yielding a hair's breadth to im |