"Fill me a mighty bowl,
Up to the brink,
That I may drink
Unto my Jonson's soul.

Crown it again, again,
And thrice repeat
That happy heat,

To drink to thee, my Ben.
Well I can quaff I sec,

To the number five
Or nine; but thrive

In frenzy ne'er like thee."

The same free spirit is discoverable in a short " Hymn to Venus," inserted in our last number; and is not altogether absent in " Cherry Ripe," which, as written by the author, stands thus:

"Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, (I cry)
Full and fair ones come and buy!
If so be you ask me, where
They do grow? I answer, there,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land of cherry-isle;
Whose plantations fully show,

All the year where cherries grow."

The Julia mentioned in Cherry Ripe, appears to have been a great favorite with the author; many of his verses are addressed to her; the following are not perhaps the least engaging:

"Julia, when thy Herrick dies,
Close thou up thy poet's eyes:
And his last breath, let it be,
Taken in by none but thee.”

Amongst his poems are a variety of epitaphs, written in a style most easy, graceful, and classical. The following upon Ben Jonson closes the story of their intimacy-affection could go no farther:

"Here lies Ben Jonson, with the rest

Of the poets, but the best.

Reader, would'st thou more have known?

Ask his story, not the stone;

That will speak, what this can't tell,

Of his glory. So farewell."

The few particulars which are known of the life of Herrick, are to be found in Drake's Literary Hours, and Nichols's History of Leicestershire.

YOUTH AND AGE.

YOUTH like a lightning flash appears,
How bright, and, oh! how short its years:
Age follows, like the thunder's roll,
It passes---and we reach the goal.

E.

OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS.

No. II.

"EASTWARD HOE."

WE resume the consideration of this interesting subject with a play, the history of which is rather singular. "Eastward Hoe," like the Witch of Edmonton, noticed in our last, is the joint production of three celebrated dramatists, Ben Jonson, George Chapman, and John Marston. The name of the first of these worthies is so well known, that it would be superfluous to do more than mention it. Chapman is also well known as the translator of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, and the author of Bussy D'Ambois and several other plays; he was born in the year 1557, was a friend of Spenser and Shakspeare, is described by Wood as an excellent and amiable man, and died in 1634, at the age of seventy-seven. The fame of Marston rests upon the tragedy of Antonio and Mellida, published in 1602; The Parasitaster, or the Fawne, a comedy, published in 1606; What you Will, another comedy, dated in 1607, and several other plays of rather inferior merit.

The comedy we now propose to consider, was published in 1605, shortly after the accession of James I. The number of Scotchmen who came into England upon that event, and who were by the king promoted to offices of trust and confidence, aroused a considerable degree of jealousy in the minds of the English, and satire and invective were dealt out very freely, not only upon these imported courtiers, but even upon the prince to whom the nation considered itself indebted for the importation. Another source of public discontent was the number of knights which James was continually making; the consequence of which was, that a title once honorable, was often bestowed upon dishonorable men, and the dignity itself became an object of mockery and derision. A third circumstance which distinguishes the time, was a wild spirit of adventure and emigration then extremely prevalent, and which may be considered as having laid the foundation of the Anglo-American Colonies. All these circumstances were treated upon in the comedy of "Eastward Hoe," with a great deal of sharp and caustic satire; and those passages which relate to the court, the Scots, and the new made knights, were considered so extremely offensive by the king, that he caused the three authors to be committed to prison, from which it was with difficulty they escaped without the loss of their ears and noses. Great interest was however made for them, and upon a very humble submission, they were pardoned. Jonson was so rejoiced at his escape, that he gave an entertainment to commemorate it, and amongst the persons present were Camden, Selden, and, in all probability, the still greater man, Shakspeare. In the midst of the entertainment, Jonson's mother, a very masculine woman, after having drank to him, shewed him a paper of poison, which she

assured him it was her intention to have given him with his liquor, after having taken part of it herself, rather than he should have suffered the sentence from which he had so narrowly escaped. If an event so truly tragical had taken place, the comedy of " Eastward Hoe" would have perhaps been more celebrated and better known than it is; but the lovers of the drama and of literature, when considering the life of "Rare Ben Jonson," are happy to remember, that he did not die of poison administered by his mother, in order to save him from the infliction of a barbarous punishment adjudged by an arbitrary court.

"Eastward Hoe" is founded upon the manœuvres of a Sir Petronel Flash, knt. a man of no substance or worth, who is supposed to have procured his title by a bribe to one of the king's attendants. Being pursued and harassed by his just creditors, this worthy specimen of the new made knights, determines to take what was called the Virginia voyage, or to emigrate to the English settlements in 'America, and with that view engages some men as desperate in character and fortune as himself to accompany him. A ship is hired, and awaits these gallant adventurers at Blackwall; but Sir Petronel is desirous of making up a purse before he embarks, to accomplish which, he is about to be married to Girtred, the daughter of a very discreet and wealthy goldsmith in the City of London, named Touchstone. Girtred is possessed of considerable property in land, left to her by her grandmother, and that of course is a sufficient recommendation to the knight. He is possessed of a title, and that is a sufficient recommendation to Miss Girtred and her mother, both of whom are determined that she shall be a lady, and conclude the match at once without at all consulting Mr. Touchstone. Another inducement with these ladies is a certain castle of which the knight continually boasts that he is possessed, and which he takes care to describe in such manner as to induce an opinion of his great wealth. The knight is in hurry-the lady is willing, and the marriage is therefore on the point of being concluded, when the play commences.

The first scene introduces us to Mr. Touchstone and his two apprentices, Quicksilver and Goulding, the former of whom is a foolish, pert, impudent coxcomb, a seeker after gay society, without honesty or honor; the latter, on the contrary, is a steady, plain, excellent young man, attentive to business, and possessed of the entire confidence, not only of his master, but of all his acquaintances. The characters of these youths is well hit off, but we have not room for them both; the following is amusing and useful, as pourtraying the manners of the times. Touchstone's account of his own rise in the world is excellent.

TOUCH. Thou shameless varlet, dost thou jest at thy lawful master contrary to thy indentures?

QUICK. Zblood, sir, my mother's a gentlewoman, and my father a justice of peace and of quorum; and though I am a younger brother, and a prentice, yet I hope I am my father's son; and by God's lidde, 'tis

for your worhip and for your commodity* that I keep company. I am entertained among gallants, true: they call me cousin Frank, right: I lend them monies, good: they spend it, well; but when they are spent, must they not strive to get more? Must not their land flie? And to whom? Shall not your worship have the refusal? Well, I am a good member of the city, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts, if their humours were not fed? How should their humours be fed, but by white meat and cunning secondings? Well, the city might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now; the gallants fall to play, I carry light gold with me; the gallants call cousin Frank, some gold for silver, I change, gain by it: the gallants lose the gold, and then call, cousin Frank, lend me some silver. Why?--

TOUCH. Why? I cannot tell, seven score pounds art thou out in my cash; but look to it, I will not be gallanted out of my monies. And as for my rising by other men's fall, God shield me! Did I gain my wealth by ordinaries? No.--By exchanging of gold? No.---By keeping of gallants' company? No. I hired me a little shop, fought low; took small gain; kept no debt-book; garnished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome thrifty sentences; as, Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee. Light gains make heavy purses. 'Tis good to be merry and wise. And when I was wiv'd, having something to stick to, I had the horn of suretyship ever before my eyes. You all know the device of the horn, where the young fellow slips in at the butt-end, and comes squeezed out at the buckall: and I grew up, and I praise Providence I bear my brows now as high as the best of my neighbours; but thou---well look to thy accounts, your father's bond lies for you: seven score pound is yet in the rear.

QUICK. Why 'slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants' words for it as any one in London; gentlemen of good phrase, perfect language, passingly well behaved, gallants that wear socks and clean linen, and call me kind cousin Frank---good cousin Frank, for they know my father; and by God slidde shall I not trust them? Not trust?

We then pass to Girtred and her sister Mildred :—the latter is a plain, simple girl, contented and unaspiring, whilst her sister, on the contrary, disdains the city, and every thing connected with it, even to her industrious father. She is about to become a lady, and thinks her dignity requires that her behaviour shall be more than ordinarily proud and imperious. She is dressing in expectation of a visit from her intended husband. The upstart satisfaction with which she counts upon the altered behaviour of her father and mother to her when she shall be married, is extremely natural.

GIRTRED. For the passion of patience, look if Sir Petronel approach; that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that---for love's sake tell me if he come? Oh! sister Mil, though my father be a low-capped tradesman, yet I must be a lady; and I praise God my mother must call me, Madam-(does he come?) Off with this gown for shame's sake, off with this gown: let not the knight take me in the city-cut, in any hand; tear't---pax on't--does he come? tear't off. "Thus whilst she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake."---(Sings.)

MILD. Lord, sister, with what an immodest impaciencie and disgraceful scorn do you put off our city tire! I am sorry to think you imagine to right yourself, in wronging that which hath made both you and us.

Commodity anciently signified interest or advantage, in which sense it is used by Falconbridge, King John, act ii. scene 6.

GIRT. I tell you I can't endure it, I must be a lady. Do you wear your coif with a London licket; your stammen petticoat with two guards; the buffin gown with the tuftaffitie cape and the velvet lace? I must be a lady, and I will be a lady. I like some humours of the city dames well, to eat cherries only at an angel a pound, good; to dye rich scarlet, black, pretty; to line a grogram gown clean through with velvet, tolerable; their pure linen, their smocks of three pounds a smock, are to be borne withal. But your mincing niceries, your taffeta pipkins, durance petticoats and silver bodkins---God's my life! as I shall be a lady, I can't endure it. Is he come yet? Lord, what a long knight 'tis! And ever she cried, shout home,' (singing) and yet I know one longer, and ever she cried, shout home, fal, la, ly, re, lo, la.

MILD. Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.

GIRT. (Singing) Bow Bell.

After some time the knight arrives; she salutes him thus:

GIRT. Is my knight come? O, the Lord! My band! Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o' the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now, so, there, there! Here he is; O, my dearest delight, Lord, Lord, and how does my knight?

TOUCHSTONE. Fye! with more modesty.

GIRT. Modesty! Why, I am no citizen now. Modesty! Am I not to be married? Y'are best to keep me modest now I am to be a lady! SIR PET. Boldness is good fashion and courtlike.

GIRT. I*, in a country lady, I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance you came no sooner knight?

SIR PET. Faith, I was so entertained in the progress with one Count Epernoum, a Welch knight: we had a match at Balloon†, too, with my Lord Whackum, for four crowns.

GIRT. At Baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at Baboon in the country.

SIR PET. Oh, sweet lady! 'tis a strong play with the arm.

GIRT. Any thing, so it be a court sport. And when shall we be married, my knight?

SIR PET. I come now to consummate it---and your father may call a poor knight, son-in-law.

TOUCH. Sir, ye are come; what is not mine to keep, I must not be sorry to forego. A hundred pounds land her grandmother left her, 'tis yours; herself (as her mother's gift) is yours. But if you expect aught from me, know, my hand and mine eyes open together; I do not give blindly; work upon that now‡.

SIR PET. Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am knight.

TOUCH. Sir, sir; what I know not, you will give me leave to say, I am ignorant of.

MRS. TOUCH. Yes, that he is a knight; I know where he had money to pay the Gentlemen Ushers and Heralds their fees; I, that he is a knight, and so might you have been too, if you had been aught else than an ass, as well as some of your neighbours. And had I thought you would not ha' been knighted, (as I am an honest woman) I would ha’ dubb'd you myself: I praise God, I have, wherewithal. But as for your daughter--

* I, was anciently used for, aye, in which sense it frequently occurs in our extracts. + Balloon, a game played with a large inflated ball, which was struck with the hand. This appears to have been a cant phrase of the time---it is often used in the course of this play.