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Yes, her malice more.
George. Ay, this good learned man
Scar. He knows her shifts and haunts—
Alken. And all her wiles and turns. The venom'd plants
A MEETING OF WITCHES
FOR THE PURPOSE OF DOING A MISCHIEF TO A JOYFUL HOUSE, AND BRING
ING AN EVIL SPIRIT INTO BIRTH IN THE MIDST OF IT.
From the Masque of Queens.
Charm. The owl is abroad, the bat and the toad,
And so is the cat-a-mountain ;
And the frog peeps out of the fountain
The spindle is now a turning;
But all the sky is a-burning.
1st Hag. I have been all day looking after
A raven, feeding upon a quarter;
2nd Hag. I have been gathering wolves' hairs,
The mad dog's foam, and the adder's ears ;
3rd Hag. I, last night, lay all alone
On the ground to hear the mandrake groan ;
4th Hag. And I have been choosing out this skull
From charnel-houses that were full;
5th Hag. Under a cradle I did creep,
By day; and when the child was asleep
6th Hag. I had a dagger : what did I with that?
Kill'd an infant to have his fat.
Yes, I have brought to help our vows
You fiends and fairies, if yet any be
Charm. Deep, O deep we lay thee to sleep;
We leave thee drink by, if thou chance to be dry;
Both milk and blood, the dew and the flood;
Dame. Stay; all our charms do nothing win
Upon the night; our labor dies,
Charm. Blacker go in, and blacker come out :
Hoo ! har! har! hoo!
(A loud and beautiful music is heard, and the Witches vanish.)
A CATCH OF SATYRS.
Silenus bids his Satyrs awaken a couple of Sylvans, who have fallen
asleep while they should have kept watch.
Buz, quoth the blue fly,
Hum, quoth the bee;
And so do we.
Thùs, do you see?
Else it was hè.
“It is impossible that anything could better express than this, either the wild and practical joking of the satyrs, or the action of the thing described, or the quaintness and fitness of the images, or the melody and even the harmony, the intercourse, of the mu. sical words, one with another. None but a boon companion with a very musical ear could have written it. It was not for nothing that Ben lived in the time of the fine old English composers, Bull and Ford, or partook his canary with his “loyd Alphon. so,” as he calls him, the Signor Ferrabosco.-A Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla, in Ainsworth's Magazine, No. xxx., p. 86.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER,
BEAUMONT, BORN 1586—DIED 1615.
POETRY of the highest order and of the loveliest character abounds in Beaumont and Fletcher, but so mixed up with incon. sistent, and too often, alas! revolting matter, that, apart from passages which do not enter into the plan of this book, I had no alternative but either to confine the extracts to the small number which ensue, or to bring together a heap of the smallest quotations,—two or three lines at a time. I thought to have got a good deal more out of the Faithful Shepherdess, which I had not read for many years; but on renewing my acquaintance with it, I found that the same unaccountable fascination with the evil times which had spoilt these two fine poets in their other plays, had followed its author, beyond what I had supposed, even into the regions of Arcadia.
Mr. Hazlitt, who loved sometimes to relieve his mistrust by a fit of pastoral worship, pronounces the Faithful Shepherdess to be “a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, where no crude surfeit reigns.” I wish I could think so. There are both hot and cold dishes in it, which I would quit at any time to go and dine with the honest lovers of Allan Ramsay, whose Gentle Shepherd, though of another and far inferior class of poetry, I take upon the whole to be the completest pastoral drama that ever was written.
It is a pity that Beaumont and Fletcher had not been born earlier, and in the neighborhood of Shakspeare, and become his playmates. The wholesome company of the juvenile yeoman (like a greater Sandford) might have rectified the refined spirits