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Brom. Some of his own, I'm sure.
I must confess
Your Grace is welcome
Dor. They cannot speak this language, but in ours
Elves. Tititàti, Tititàti.
They do request you now
Joc. Traitor, for so Prince Oberon deigns to call thee
To be thus abus'd!
I have deserv'd bette:
I see I must endure it.
How should I say I do?
Tititatèe, my noble lords."
(Fairies dance about BROMIUS, and pinch and scratch him in chorus )
Quoniam per te violamur,
[Since by thee comes profanation
Joc. Tititàti to your lordship for this excellent music.
Your Grace is pleas'd
Joc. Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you. Tititatèe, my noble lords; farewell.
[Erit Dor. Tititatèe,-my noble fool; farewell.
Now be gone.
So we are clean got off. Come, noble Peers
1“ Nos beata Fauni proles,” &c.—There is something very charming in these Latin rhymes. They make one wish (in spite of the danger of being charged with a Gothic taste) that Horace and Catullus,-say rather Ovid, -had written in rhyme as well as blank verse, and so given us a fairy music with some of his words, beyond the power of his lutes and lyres to hand down.
;" Immortal thief, come down,” &c.—It must be confessed that Bromius talks too well for a servant. So, for that matter, does his master, for so foolish a country-gentleman. But we are to recol. lect that the play is a pastoral with an Arcadian licence.
3“ Tititatèe, my noble lords,” &c.—Molière himself would have enjoyed this extravagance. It is indeed quite in his manner.
"" Inter poma, lac, et vinum.”-A line that shuts up the scene in “measureless content." Thanks be to the witty scholar, Thomas Randolph, for an addition to the stock of one's pleasant fancies.
BORN, 1609—DIED, 1641.
Sir John SUCKLING, son of the Comptroller of the Household to Charles the First, was so true a wit, and hit so delightful a point between the sentiment of the age of Elizabeth and the gallantry of the Stuarts, that it is provoking to be unable to give some of his best pieces at all in a publication like the present, and only one or two short ones without mutilation. He comes among a herd of scented fops with careless natural grace, and an odor of morning flowers upon him. You know not which would have been most delighted with his compliments, the dairy.maid or the duchess. He was thrown too early upon a town life; otherwise a serious passion for some estimable woman, which (to judge from his graver poetry) he was very capable of entertaining, might have been the salvation of him. As it was, he died early, and, it is said, not happily; but this may have been the report of envy or party-spirit; for he was a great loyalist. It is probable, however, that he excelled less as a partizan than as a poet and a man of fashion. He is said to have given a supper to the ladies of his acquaintance, the last course of which consisted of milli. nery and trinkets. The great Nelson's mother was a Suckling of the same stock, in Norfolk.
Steele, in the Tatler (No. 40), not undeservedly quotes a pas. sage from Suckling, side by side with one about Eve from Mil. ton. It is in his tragedy of Brennoralt, where a lover is looking on his sleeping mistress :
“Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,
A meeting of gentle lights without a name
Feelings like these enabled his fair friends to put up with such pleasant contradictions to sentiment as the following:
THE CONSTANT LOVER.
Three whole days together ;
If it prove fair weather.
Ere he shall discover
Such a constant lover.
Is due at all to me;
Had it any been but she.
And that very face,
A dozen in her place.' A aozen in her place.”—This song is the perfection of easy, witty, light yet substantial writing. There is no straining after thoughts or images, and not a word out of its place, or more words than there ought to be, unless we except the concluding verse of the third stanza; and this seems to overrun its bounds with a special propriety,besides the grace of its repetition in the stanza following. Here follows another short piece, which can also be given entire. The last line has a vivacity and novelty delightfully unexpected; but I am afraid it was suggested by a similar turn in one of our old dramatists, though I cannot recol. lect which.
Prythee, why so pale ?
Looking ill prevail ?