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Young, and unwappened,1 not halting under crimes
Many and stale; that sure shall please the gods
Sooner than such, to give us nectar with them,
For we are more clear spirits. My dear kinsmen,
Whose lives (for this poor comfort) are laid down,
You've sold them too, too cheap.

1 Knight.

Of more content? O'er us the victors have

Fortune, whose title is as momentary

Per.
List then! Your cousin,
Mounted upon a steed that Emily
Did first bestow on him- a black one, owning
Not a hair-worth of white, which some will say
Weakens his price, and many will not buy
His goodness with this note - which superstition
What ending could be Here finds allowance :-on this horse is Arcite,
|
Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins3
Did rather tell than trample; for the horse
Would make his length a mile, if't pleased his rider
To put pride in him: -as he thus went, counting
The flinty pavement, dancing as 'twere to music
His own hoofs made (for, as they say, from iron
Came music's origin), what envious flint,
Cold as old Saturn, and, like him, possessed
With fire malevolent, darted a spark-
Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made,
I comment not ; the hot horse, hot as fire,
| Took toy at this, and fell to what disorder

As to us death is certain; a grain of honor
They rot o'erweigh us.

2 Knight.
Let us bid farewell;
And with our patience anger tott'ring fortune,
Who, at her certain'st, reels!

3 Knight.
Come; who begins?
Pal. Even he that led you to this banquet shall
Taste to you all. Ah-ha, my friend, my friend!
Your gentle daughter gave me freedom once;
You'll see't done now for ever. Pray, how does she?
I heard she was not well; her kind of ill

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His power could give his will; bounds, comes on end,
Forgets school-doing, being therein trained,
And of kind manege; pig-like he whines

At the sharp rowel, which he frets at rather
Than any jot obeys; seeks all foul means
Of boisterous and rough jadery, to dis-seat
His lord that kept it bravely: When naught served,
When neither curb would crack, girth break, nor dif-
fering plunges

Dis-root his rider whence he grew, but that
He kept him 'tween his legs;

Verily, I think so;

On end, he stands,

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-on his hind hoofs,

That Arcite's legs being higher than his head,

Seemed with strange art to hang : his victor's wreath
Even then fell off his head; and, presently,

Backward the jade comes o'er, and his full poise

Becomes the rider's load. Yet is he living;

But such a vessel 'tis, that floats but for

The surge that next approaches. He much desires
To have some speech with you. Lo, he appears!
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EMILIA, ARCITE, in a
chair.

Pal. Oh, miserable end of our alliance!
The gods are mighty!- Arcite, if thy heart,
Thy worthy manly heart, be yet unbroken,
Give me thy last words! I am Palamon,
One that yet loves thee dying.
Arc.
And with her all the world's joy.
Farewell! I've told my last hour.
Yet never treacherous. Forgive me, cousin!
One kiss from fair Emilia! It is done :
Take her. I die!

Take Emilia,

Reach thy hand;
I was false,

[Dies.

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He did it well: your day is lengthened, and
The blissful dew of heaven does arrose you;
The powerful Venus well hath graced her altar
And given you your love; our master Mars
Has vouched his oracle, and to Arcite gave
The grace of the contention: so the deities
Have shown due justice. Bear this hence!
Pal.

Oh, cousin,
That we should things desire, which do cost us
The loss of our desire! That naught could buy
Dear love, but loss of dear love!
Thes.
Never fortune
Did play a subtler game: the conquered triumphs,
The victor has the loss; yet, in the passage,
The gods have been most equal. Palamon,
Your kinsman, hath confessed the right o' the lady
Did lie in you; for you first saw her, and
Even then proclaimed your fancy. He restored her,
As your stolen jewel, and desired your spirit
To send him hence forgiven: the gods my justice

Take from my hand, and they themselves become
The executioners. Lead your lady off;
And call your lovers from the stage of death.
Whom I adopt my friends! A day or two
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto
The funeral of Arcite ;- in whose end
The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on,
And smile with Palamon; for whom an hour,
But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry,
As glad of Arcite; and am now as glad,
As for him sorry. Oh, you heavenly charmers,
What things you make of us! For what we lack
We laugh, for what we have are sorry; still
Are children in some kind. Let us be thankful
For that which is, and with you leave disputes
That are above our question! Let's go off,
And bear us like the time!

1 Lovers companions, friends.*

[Flourish. Exeunt.

*So Mr. Knight; and yet, if written "followers," the sense and measure would be equally improved.

THE END OF THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.

ON

RO

ANDERSON JO

INTRODUCTION

TO

THE LONDON PRODIGAL.

THIS Comedy was first published in 1605, with the | this piece to be Shakspeare's, and wished to bring it following title: "The London Prodigall: as it was plaide by the King's Majestie's Servants: By William Shakspeare. London: Printed by T. C., for Nathaniel Butler." T. C. was Thomas Creede, and Nathaniel Butler was the bookseller, who, three years after ward, published King Lear.

on the German stage ;" and Lessing was one of the soundest of German critics. Tieck, another German, also assigns this comedy to Shakspeare. Hazlitt says: "If Shakspeare's at all, it must be among the sins of his youth." Mr. Knight, while analyzing the plot and materiel, and comparing these with the unquestionable performances of Shakspearc, rejects the play altogether.

"Concerning the origin of this play, having been ever ascribed to Shakspeare, I have not been able to form any probable hypothesis." This is the language Without urging a single word on this subject, we of Malone. He adds: "One knows not which most to content ourselves with saying that its crudities are admire, the impudence of the printer, in affixing our equally great as a work of thought and as a work of great poet's name to a comedy publicly at his own art. It exhibits a very immature condition of mind theatre, of which it is very improbable that he should on the part of the writer. The invention, the verse, have written a line, or Shakspeare's negligence of and the philosophy, are equally humble. It was fame, in suffering such a piece to be imputed to him, probably the work of a youth—perhaps a boy-and without taking the least notice of it." Reasoning that boy might have been Shakspeare. We know according to all common modes, one would be apt to nothing more utterly absurd than this habit of testadmit this latter fact as conclusive of the authorship. ing the authorship of a work by its intrinsic merits; It is certainly an argument, to which the mere dispari- applying the standards formed in the maturer exhibity between this performance and those which the com- tions of a great genius, to the crude and feeble permentators have chosen to adopt exclusively as Shak-formances of his beginning. But we have dwelt uppeare's, will afford an insufficient obstacle. Schlegel on these generalities already.

says: "If we are not mistaken, Lessing pronounced The comedy is not wholly devoid of merit. The

ingenuity of the father, in finding excuses for the | the stage was too long the faithful mirror. In Shakson's profligacy, is exemplary. The very reckless-speare, the partition which separates levity and guilt ness and utter profligacy of the son himself, howev- is never broken down; thoughtlessness and dishonor er faulty as a conception of character, has yet a redeeming something in his desperate hardihood. It would seem, too, that the excessive overdrawing of this character was the result of a too great anxiety to bring out that of the weak woman, his wife; whom our author probably sought to make another "Patient Grissil." The scenes in which she appears, and the devotion which she shows, which finally works the miracle in his reformation, are not wanting in force and spirit. Mr. Knight says, harshly: "If Shakspeare had chosen such a plot, in which the sudden repentance of the offender was to compensate for the miseries he had inflicted, he would have made the prodigal retain some sense of honor, some remorse amid his recklessness-something that would have given the assurance that his contrition was not hypocrisy. We have little doubt that the low moral tone of the writer's own mind produced the low morality of the plot and its catastrophe. We see in this play that confusion of principles of which

are not treated with equal indulgence. This is quite argument enough to prove that Shakspeare could not have written this comedy, nor rendered the least assistance in its composition. If it exhibited any traces of his wit or his poetry, we should still reject it upon this sole ground." And if we argued the case with reference only to Shakspeare, as the mature master-mind of ages, rather than with regard to the boy who was just beginning his apprenticeship, we should say exactly the same thing. But this would be very idle. These old plays, if Shakspeare's, are from his "prentice han' ;" and, with all deference to the commentator, we are inclined to think that the "prentice han'" of a very superior and original genius is much more rude and awkward, for various good reasons, than that of a merely talented person. But we profess to determine nothing in regard to the authorship of the drama before us—only to suggest, that the reasons which render other editors most confident, are, as we think, of no sort of value in this discussion.

THE LONDON PRODIGAL.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

FLOWERDALE, senior, a merchant.

MATTHEW FLOWERDALE, his son.

FLOWERDALE, junior, brother to the merchant.

Sir LAUNCELOT SPURCOCK.

Sir ARTHUR GREENSHIELD, a military

officer,

OLIVER, а Devonshire Clothier,

in love with
Luce.

friend's bond. Although I know, that [what] he spends is yours, yet it grieves me to see the unbridled wildness that reigns over him.1

Flow., sen. Brother, what is the manner of his
life?

How is the name of his offences? If they do not
Altogether, relish of damnation,

His youth may privilege his wantonness.

WEATHERCOCK, a parasite to Sir Launcelot Spurcock. I myself ran an unbridled course till thirty; nay, al

CIVET, in love with Frances.

A Citizen.

DAFFODIL,
servants to Sir Launcelot Spurcock.
ARTICHOKE, Š

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Sheriff's officers; Lieutenant and Soldiers; Drawers and other Attendants.

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most till forty: well! you see how I am! For vice once looked into with the eyes of discretion, and well balanced with the weights of reason, the course past seems so abominable, that the landlord of himself, which is the heart of his body,2 will rather entomb himself in the earth, or seek a new tenant to remain in him ;3 which once settled, how much better are they that in their youth have known all these vices, and left them, than those that know little, and in their age run into them? Believe me, brother, they that die most virtuous, have in their youth lived most vicious; and none knows the danger of the fire more than he that falls into it. But say, how is the course of his life? let's hear his particulars.

Flow., jun. Why, I'll tell you, brother: he is a continual swearer, and a breaker of his oaths; which is bad.

Flow., sen. I grant, indeed, to swear is bad, but in not4 keeping those oaths is better. For who will set by a bad thing? Nay, by my faith, I hold this rather a virtue than a vice! Well, I pray, proceed.

Flow., jun. He's a mighty brawler, and comes comjun-monly by the worst.

Enter FLOWERDALE, senior, and FLOWERDALE, junior.

Flow., sen. Brother, from Venice, being thus dis-
guised,

I come to prove the humors of my son.
How hath he borne himself since my departure,
I leaving you his patron and his guide?
Flow., jun. Faith, brother, so as you will grieve to
And I almost ashamed to report it.
[hear,
Flow., sen. Why, how is't, brother? What! doth
he spend beyond

The allowance that I left him?

Flow., jun. How! beyond that! [Ay] and far more. Why, your exhibition's nothing. He hath spent that and since hath borrowed; protested with oaths; alleged kindred to wring money from me; [entreating] "by the love I bore his father, - by the fortunes [that] might fall upon himself” -to furnish his wants. That done, I have since had his bond, his friend and

Flow., sen. By my faith, this is none of the worst neither; for if he brawl and be beaten for it, it will in time make him shun it; for what brings man or child more to virtue than correction? What reigns

over him else?

Flow., jun. He is a great drinker, and one that will forget himself.

Flow., sen. Oh! best of all! [since] vice should be forgotten. Let him drink on, so he drink not [in] churches. Nay, an this be the worst, I hold it rather a happiness in him than any iniquity. Hath he any more attendants?

1 Much of this is in a clumsy sort of rhythm, and may have been written originally in verse. The employment of an occasional particle here and there, and the dropping of a syllable, would easily convert it into rhythm again.

2 That is, the heart of his body is the body's landlord, or ruler, the master of the tenement.

3 That is, in shame and despair, either commit suicide, or change his character, change his heart, and become another sort of man.

4 The old copies read, "not in."

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