lime acquiescence, with which, in real life, we behold the visitations of Providence.

The play opens with a soliloquy of Gaveston, newly returned from France, and elated with the favour of the King. There ensues a short conversation between him and three poor travellers, in which is very shortly and vividly exhibited all the vile insolence of upstart pride and polluted worthlessness. We are thus, at the very commencement, and without any laborious description, made acquainted with the character of the Favourite. He then breaks out into the following exclamation, which has been often admired for its poetical beauties, and which, as Hurd observes in his Dialogues, gives a fine picture of the entertainments of the times. It also shows the accomplishments of the Man who was to be the ruin of his King.

"I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string,

the regency of the kingdom and the person of the Queen. Indeed it is impossible to read this play without feeling that Shakspeare was indebted to Marlow for the original idea of Hotspur.

Edward is now forced by his Nobles, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, who threatens him with the wrath of the See of Rome, to subscribe to the exile of Gaveston; and that our pity and contempt for him may be carried to the utmost, Marlow describes the agony of mind endured at parting from his Minion, which, however, finally vents itself in an imprecation of some energy.

"Why should a King be subject to a Priest? Proud Rome! that holdest such imperial

grooms,

For these thy superstitious taper-lights Wherewith thy Antichristian churches blaze,

I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce Thy papal Towers to kiss the lowly ground!

please.

Music and poetry are his delight; Therefore I'll have Italian plays by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows:

And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad ; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall, with their goat-feet, dance the antic hay.

Sometimes a lovely boy, in Dian's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, Shall bathe him in a spring; and then,

hard by,

One like Acteon peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd,
And, running in the likeness of a hart,
By yelping hounds pull'd down, shall seem
to die.

Such things as these best please his Majesty."

The scenes that follow are of very considerable merit, exhibiting the deplorable weakness, the infatuated fondness, and the regal obstinacy, of Edward, the fawning servility, the greedy and aspiring insolence, of the Favourite, and the high-spirited indignation, the towering pride, and the unawed ferocity, of the Nobles. The character of young Mortimer is sketched with great animation; and his language and deportment are distinguished from those of the other Barons by a boider contempt of the royal presence, arising from an ambition that has a lottier aim-no less than

nel swell,

And banks rise higher with their sepulchres!"

The Queen is here introduced; and we think that her character and conduct are drawn with great skill and power. At first, she is truly and overlooks his follies and extravaganfaithfully attached to her Husband— cies-pardons his neglect and his insults and endeavours, by humble submission or gentle remonstrance, to win him back to his former affection. Her grief is unmingled with indignation; and her feelings towards Mortimer do not exceed those of dignified gratitude. But at last, with the extinction of her love, there ensues the loss of honour and humanity; and having burst the bonds which united her to her worthless Husband, she dclivers herself up, wholly and without reserve, to the love of Mortimer, and becomes an associate in all his guilty ambition; and finally, is privy to the murder of the miserable King. Her grief for the loss of Edward's affection is thus beautifully expressed : "O miserable and distressed Queen! Would, when I left sweet France, and was

embarked,

That charming Circe, walking on the waves, Had changed my shape, or at the marriage

day The cup of Hymen had been full of poison; Or with those arms that twined about my neck,

I had been stifled, and not lived to see The King my lord thus to abandon me !"

Gaveston, who had been expelled the kingdom, is recalled-the nobles and the Queen intending to have him cut off. Edward, with blind infatuation, pursues the same system of ruinous favouritism; and the nobles are on the eve of rebellion. Young Mortimer thus speaks to his uncle:

Uncle! his wanton humour grieves not me:
But this I scorn, that one so basely born
Should by his Sovereign's favour grow so pert,
And riot with the treasure of the realm.
While Soldiers mutiny for want of pay,
He wears a Lord's revenue on his back,
And Midas-like, he jets it in the court
With base outlandish cullions at his heels,
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such
show,

As if that Proteus, God of Sapes, appeared.
I have not seen a dapper-Jack so brisk;
He wears a short Italian-hooded cloak,
Loaded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap
A jewel of more value than the Crown.
While others walk below, the King and He,
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jest at our attire.
Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.

The same fiery spirit forces himself, with Lancaster, into the presence of the King, and this parley en

I mean the Peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love :

Libels are cast against thee in the street; Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. Lan. The Northern Borderers, seeing their houses burnt,

Their wives and children slain, run up and down,

Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.

Mort. When wert thou in the field with banner spread?

But once and then thy soldiers march'd like players,

With garish robes, not armour; and thyself, Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where women's favours hung like labels down.

Lan. And therefore came it, that the Alecring Scots,

To England's high disgrace, have made this

jig;

Maids of England, sore may you mourn For your lemmons you have lost at Bannockburn," &c.

At length Gaveston is beheaded by the Earl of Warwick, and war declared between the King and the Nobles. Edward, who has hitherto been an ob

ject of pity and contempt alone, redeems himself to a certain degree in this emergency, by the exhibition of a warlike spirit, and "shews, that in his eyes is set some spark of the Plantagenet."

་ "Edo. By Earth! the common Mother of us all!

By Heaven! and all the moving Orbs thereof! By this right hand! and by my Father's

sword!

And stain my Royal Standard with the same, That so my bloody colours may suggest Remembrance of Revenge immortally."

The place of Gaveston has been supplied by Spenser, who, along with his father, support the cause of the King. This Spenser had formerly drawn his own character thus, in a conversation with his friend Baldock.

"Spen. Then, Baldock! you must cast the scholar off,

And learn to court it like a gentleman.
'Tis not a black coat and a little band,
A velvet-cap'd cloak, faced before with serge,
And smelling to a nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a napkin in your hand,
Or saying a long grace at a table's end,
Or making low legs to a nobleman,

D

travel from place to place. The Queen approves of these savage orders, and with a callous hypocrisy, which seems almost beyond the capabilities of human wickedness,

"The She-Wolf of France with unrelenting fangs

That tears the bowels of her mangled mate,"
to the messengers at parting:
says
"Whether goes this letter, to my Lord the
King?

Commend me humbly to his Majesty,
And tell him that I labour all in vain,
To ease his grief and work his liberty,
And bear him this, as witness of my love."
Meanwhile the King is in the hands
of his tormentors.

"Enter Matrevis and Gurney, with the King,

Mat. My Lord, be not pensive, we are your friends;

Men are ordained to live in misery, Therefore come,dalliance dangereth our lives. Edward. Friends! whither must unhappy Edward go?

Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest?
Must I be vexed like the nightly Bird,
Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowls?
When will the fury of his mind assuage?
When will his heart be satisfied with blood?
If mine will serve, unbowel straight this
breast,

And give my heart to Isabel and him,-
It is the chiefest mark they level at.

Gur. Not so, my Liege! the Queen hath given this charge, To keep your grace in safety.

Your passions make your choler to increase. Edo. This usage makes my misery in

crease.

But can my air of life continue long,
When all my senses are annoyed with stench?
Within a dungeon England's King is kept,
Where I am starved for want of sustenance.
My daily diet is heart-breaking sobs,
That almost rend the closet of my heart;
Thus lives old Edward, not relieved of any,
And so must die, though pitied by many.
O water! gentle Friends, to cool my thirst,
And clear my body from foul excrements.
Mat. Here's channel-water, as our charge

is given.

Sit down; for we'll be barbers to your Grace. Edw. Traitors, away! what, will you murder me,

Or choke your Sovereign with puddle water? Gur. No: but wash your face and shave your beard,

Lest you be known, and so rescued.
Mat. Why strive you thus? your labour

is in vain.

Edw. The Wren may strive against the Lion's strength,

But all in vain: so vainly do I strive To seek for mercy at a Tyrant's hand. (They wash him with puddle-water, and shave his beard away.

Immortal Powers! that know the painful

cares

That wait upon my poor distressed soul !

level all your looks upon these daring men, That wrong their Liege and Sovereign, England's King.

OGaveston! it is for thee that I am wronged; For me both Thou and both the Spensers died!

And for your sakes a thousand wrongs I'll take.

The Spenser's ghosts, wherever they remain, Wish well to mine !-then tush! for them I die."

An assassin is at last sent to murder the King, who thus describes his qualifications with manifest satisfaction:

66

Lightborn. You shall not need to give instructions;

"Tis not the first time I have killed a man.
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers;
To strangle with a lawn thrust through the
throat;

To pierce the windpipe with a needle's point;
Or, whilst one is asleep, to take a quill
And blow a little powder in his ears;
Or open his mouth and pour quicksilver
down ;

But yet I have a braver than these.
Mort. What's that?

Light. Nay, none shall

know my tricks.

Mort. I care not how it is, so it be not
spy'd.

Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis;
At every ten-mile-end thou hast a horse;
Take this-away—and never see me more !”

Gurney and Matrevis are conversing about the King when the assassin arrives with his commission.

"Mat. Gurney, I wonder the King dies

not,

Being in a vault up to the knees in water, To which the channels of the castle run; From whence a damp continually ariseth That were enough to poison any man, Much more a king brought up so tenderly.

Gur. And so do I, Matrevis; yesternight I open'd but the door to throw him meat, And I was almost stifled with the savour.

Mat. He hath a body able to endure More than we can inflict; and therefore now Let us assail his mind another while.

Gur. Send for him out thence and I'll anger him.

The murder is now arranged, and the dreadful mode of its perpetration; and the assassin is admitted into the miserable dungeon of his victim.

"Edw. Who's there? what light is that?
wherefore comest thou?
Light. To comfort you, and bring you
joyful news.

Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward
in thy looks.

Villain! I know thou com'st to murder me.