And will by no means yield to composition: He offers any price; his body to her. Sel. She is a hard lady denies that caution. Leon. And now they whine, and now they rave: Faith, princes, 'Twere a good point of charity to piece 'em ; 2 For less than such a power will do just nothing: [be, And if you mean to see him, there it must For there will be grow, 'till he be transplanted. Sel. Beseech your grace, let's wait upon you thither, That I may see that beauty dares deny him, That scornful beauty. Ptol. I should think it worse now; Ill brought-up beauty. [think of. Ant. She has too much reason for't; Which, with too great a grief, I shame to But we'll go see this game. Lys. Rather this wonder. Ant. Be you our guide, Leontius. Here's a new peace. SCENE V. Enter Demetrius and Celia. [Excunt. Dem. Stay! who are these? Lys. A very handsome lady, Leon. As e'er you saw. Sel. Pity her heart's so cruel. Lys. How does your Grace?-He stands still; will not hear us. [fortunes. Ptol. We come to serve you, Sir, in all our Lys Ile bows a little now; he's strangely alter'd. [you a word with you, Sel. Ha! pray you a word, Leontius! pray Lysimachus! You both knew mine Enanthie,63 I lost in Antioch, when the town was taken, Mine uncle slain; Antigonus had the sack on't Lys. Yes, I remember well the girl. Sel. Methinks now, [picture: That face is wondrous like her. I have her The same, but more years on her; the very Many a time have I dandled her in these arms, And I hope who will more. Ant. What's that ye look at, Princes? Sel. This picture, and that lady, Sir. They only err in time. Lys. Didst thou mark that blush there? That came the nearest. Sel. I must speak to her. e2 'Twere a good point of charity to piece 'em.] This reading is sense, and we would not disturb the text; yet we will hazard our conjecture of the Authors having written, 'Twere a good point of charity to peace them; i. e. to make peace between them. Thus, Antigonus says almost immediately, Here's a new peace! And, soon after, Demetrius, Put not those out o' th' peace too. And, finally, Seleucus, This is a peace indeed! 63 Enanthe.] The Editors of the second folio, though they copy those of the first in calling this character Enanthe through this scene, yet, in their dramatis persona, stile her Evanthe; in which particulars they have been followed by all the succeeding Editors. It is immaterial which name is adopted, "but the play and the list of the characters ought to agree, [blessing. Leon. You'll quickly be resolv'd. Celia. If you be the king Seleucus, Where did I lose you? Celia. At the sack of Antioch, Mine own, my dearest, and my best Enanthe! This is a peace indeed. Ant. I hope it shall be, And ask it first. Sel. Most royal Sir, you have it. Kneeling I give it too; kneeling I take it; part' us! All. The gods give happy joys! all comforts Ant. Come, beat all the drums up, While to the temple we conduct these two. Leon. May they be ever loving, ever young, And, ever worthy of those lines 64 they sprung, May their fair issues walk with time along! Lieut. And hang a coward now! and there's my song. [Exeunt omnes. EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY THE LIEUTENANT. I AM not cur'd yet throughly; for, be- I feel another passion that may grieve; It takes me cold, cold, cold; I know not As you are good men, help me; a carouse 64 May they be ever loving, ever young, May their fair issues walk with time along.] We apprehend both the text and tuation to be corrupted here, and would read thus: May they be ever loving, ever young, punc This remedies the vicious construction, and gives a fuller sense. Shakespeare uses the very expression in Richard III. and very nearly the same in King Lear. THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS. This Pastoral is indubitably the sole production of Fletcher. It was condemned by the audience on the first night of performance, and laid aside till Charles I. had it acted before his Court; on which occasion Sir William Davenant wrote a Dialogue-Prologue. The title of the third edition runs, The Faithfvll Shepherdesse. Acted at Somerset House before the 'King and Qveene on Twelfe night last, 1633. And divers times since with great applause at 'the Private House in Blacke-Friers, by his Majesties Servants.' This is the last account we have of its performance; and indeed, though the Faithful Sepherdess is excelled by very few pieces, in the closet, we cannot think it well calculated for the theatre. The first edition bears date the same year in which it was first acted. The Faithful Shepherdess is, of all the poems in our language, one of the greatest honours and the greatest scandals of our nation. It shews to what a height in every species of poetry the British genius has soared; it proves how dull the vulgar eye is to pursue its flight. How must each Briton of taste rejoice to find all the pastoral beauties of Italy and Arcadia transplanted by Fletcher, and flourishing in our own climate! How must be grieve to think that they were at first blasted, and since suffered to wither in oblivion by his Gothic countrymen! The Faithful Shepherdess was damned at its first appearance, and not even a potent monarch's patronage in the next age, nor a much greater monarch's in poetry than king Charles the First in power, Milton's great admiration and close imitation of it in Comus, could recommend it to the publick. The noble copy, 'till within these few years, was as little known as its original; but since it is now become the fashion to admire the former, some deference will surely be paid to Milton's judgment. I shall, therefore, in my notes on this play, not confine myself to thereverbal emendations, but endeavour to demonstrate Fletcher's beauties from parallel passages out of Milton and other authentick poets. By which, I believe, it will appear, that Milton borrowed more from Fletcher, than Fletcher from all the ancient classicks. Seward. ACT I. The truest man that ever fed his flocks Of love; all sports, delights and jolly games With youthful coronals, and lead the dance; And all are dead but thy dear memory; While there are pipes, or jolly shepherds sing. Only rememb'ring what my youth did gain Or be they love-sick, or thro' too much heat The sun sits smiling, and the lofty fruit Pull'd from the fair head of the straightgrown pine; On these I'll feed with free content and rest, When night shall blind the world, by thy side blest. Enter a Satyr. Sat. Thro' yon same bending plain That flings his arms down to the main, 2 Coronals.] i. e. Garlands. The word frequently occurs in Spenser, in the same sense. R. 3 Dell] Is used by Spenser in his Shepherd's Calender. March, speaking of a sheep, 'Fell headlong into a dell.' It plainly signifies a steep place, or valley, and is much the same as dale. See Bishop New ton's notes on Comus. R. 4 Cordevan.] Cordwain (from cordovan, leather) Spanish leather. Johnson. We find cordevan, or cordiwin, mentioned in the following stanza of Drayton's Fourth Eclogue: The shepherd wore a sheep-gray cloak, Which was of the finest lock That could be cut with sheer. His mittons were of bauzons skin, His cockers were of cordiwin, " His hood of miniveer.' Drayton's Works, vol. iv. p. 1403. R. Through yon same bending plain.] That Fletcher had frequently in his eye Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, is certain. The beginning and ending of this speech are an imitation of the Fairy's speech, act ii. scene 1. Both Fletcher and Milton follow Shakespeare in his liberties of frequently varying the Ana creontick |