JOHN FORD. [THIS dramatist belonged to a good Devonshire family, being the second son of Thomas Ford of Ilsington, where he was born in April 1586. It is not known how he passed his early years till his appearance as a student of the Middle Temple, which he entered in November 1602. Here he seems diligently to have prosecuted his professional studies, and apparently was so successful in his career as a lawyer, as to be quite independent of literature as a source of income. Both in his student days and afterwards he appears to have led a sober, respectable, and somewhat retired life, exhibiting a marked contrast in this respect to most of his brother dramatists. He made his first appearance as an author in 1606, in the eighteenth year of his age, when he published an occasional poem, entitled Fame's Memorial, a tribute to the memory of Charles Blunt, Earl of Devonshire. His first essays in connection with the drama were made in conjunction with Webster, Dekker, and others. As Ford was quite independent of the stage for a livelihood, he wrote at his leisure, and more for love than reward. His first independent dramatic composition was The Lover's Melancholy, acted in 1628 and published in 1629, although possibly 'Tis Pity She's a Whore had possession of the stage previous to the former. This latter, along with The Broken Heart and Love's Sacrifice, made its appearance in print in 1633. Next year appeared 'a compact consecutive representation of a portion of English history,' under the title of Perkin Warbeck. This was followed in 1638 by a comedy, The Fancies Chaste and Noble, and in 1639 by his tragicomedy, The Lady's Trial. Besides these, Ford wrote a number of other dramas, now irrecoverably lost. It has been supposed that this dramatist died shortly after the publication of his last play (1639); although 'inquiries, too late to arrive at certainty, have scented a faint tradition that he withdrew to his native place, married, became a father, lived respected, and died at a good old age.' From the tenor of his works it has been inferred that Ford was of a somewhat irritable and melancholy temperament; and this opinion gets some countenance from a contemporary distich which photographs him thus: 'Deep in a dump John Ford was alone got, Various estimates have been formed of Ford as a dramatist, although nearly all critics agree that he is inferior to Massinger, Jonson, and Fletcher; Weber, however, thinking that he excels them all in point of pathetic effect. Hazlitt does not admire him, and says truly, that the general characteristic of his style is an artificial elaborateness, and, of course, along with all others, reprobates his morbid love of repulsive plots, low characters, and filthy language. Mr. Hartley Coleridge speaks of him thus:-'He disowned all courtship of the vulgar taste; we might therefore suppose that the horrible stories which he has embraced in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, The Broken Heart, and Love's Sacrifice, were his own choice, and his own taste. But it would be unfair from hence to conclude that he delighted in the contemplation of vice and misery, as vice and misery. He delighted in the sensation of intellectual power, he found himself strong in the imagination of crime and of agony; his moral sense was gratified by indignation at the dark possibilities of sin, by compassion for rare extremes of suffering. He abhorred vice-he admired virtue; but 461 ordinary vice or modern virtue were, to him, as light wine to a dram-drinker. His genius was a telescope, ill-adapted for neighbouring objects, but powerful to bring within the sphere of vision, what nature has wisely placed at an unsociable distance. Passion must be incestuous or adulterous, grief must be something more than martyrdom, before he could make them big enough to be seen. Unquestionably he displayed great power in these horrors, which was all he desired; but had he been "of the first order of poets," he would have found and displayed superior power in "familiar matter of to-day," in failings to which all are liable, virtues which all may practise, and sorrows for which all may be the better.' After much consideration we have deemed The Lady's Trial most suitable for insertion in these pages.] THE LADY'S TRIAL: ACTED BY BOTH THEIR MAJESTIES' SERVANTS AT THE PRIVATE HOUSE IN DRURY LANE. FIDE HONOR. London. 1639. TO MY DESERVINGLY HONOURED JOHN WYRLEY, ESQUIRE, AND TO THE VIRTUOUS AND RIGHT WORTHY GENTLEWOMAN MRS. MARY WYRLEY, HIS WIFE, THIS SERVICE. THE inequality of retribution turns to a pity, when there is not ability sufficient for acknowledgment. Your equal respects may yet admit the readiness of endeavour, though the very hazard in it betray my defect. I have enjoyed freely acquaintance with the sweetness of your dispositions, and can justly account, from the nobleness of them, an evident distinction betwixt friendship and friends. The latter (according to the practice of compliment) are usually met with, and often without search; the other, many have searched for, I have found. For which, though I partake a benefit of the fortune, yet to you, most equal pair, must remain the honour of that bounty. In presenting this issue of some less serious hours to your tuition, I appeal from the severity of censure to the mercy of your judgments; and shall rate it at a higher value than when it was mine own, if you only allow it the favour of adoption. Thus, as your happiness in the fruition of each other's love proceeds to a constancy; so the truth of mine shall appear less unshaken, as you shall please to continue in your good opinions. JOHN FORD. 462 forth! The newest news unvamp'd.1 Fut. I am no foot-post, No pedlar of Avisos, no monopolist Of forged Corantos, monger of gazettes. Piero. Monger of courtezans, fine Futelli; Fut. Auria, who lately Piero. Does not carry His pretty thing along. Fut. Leaves her to buffet Land-pirates here at home. Piero. That's thou and I; Futelli, sirrah, and Piero.-Blockhead! To run from such an armful of pleasures, For gaining-what? - a bloody nose of honour. Most sottish and abominable! Fut. Wicked, Shameful and cowardly, I will maintain. Fut. Hold thy peace, man; It makes for us. He comes; let's part demurely. [They take different sides. Enter ADURNI and AURIA. Adur. We wish thee, honour'd Auria, life and safety; Return crown'd with a victory, whose wreath Of triumph may advance thy country's glory, Worthy your name and ancestors! Aur. My lord, I shall not live to thrive in any action Deserving memory, when I forget Adurni's love and favour. Piero. I present you My service for a farewell; let few words Excuse all arts of compliment. Fut. For my own part, Kill or be kill'd (for there's the short and long Call me your shadow's hench-boy. Aur. Gentlemen, My business urging on a present haste, Enforceth short reply. [on Adur. We dare not hinder Your resolution wing'd with thoughts so constant. All happiness! Piero and Fut. Contents! [Exeunt ADURNI, PIERO, and FUTELLI Aur. So leave the winter'd people of the north, The minutes of their summer, when the sun Departing leaves them in cold robes of ice, As I leave Genoa. Enter TRELCATIO, SPINELLA, and CASTANNA Such will our next embraces be, for life; Trel. I dare promise To vamp, is to cover an old thing with a new part, and My husbanding that trust with truth and care. 1 unvamp'd. I have not met with this singular word. the in the text, therefore, signifies uncovered, disclosed. Perhaps we should read unvamp't-i.e. disclose it.-WEBER. 2 trouls-passes or goes round. The meaning is, 'What is the common talk?' Cast. My sister shall to me stand an example, Of pouring free devotions for your safety. Aur. Gentle Castanna, thou'rt a branch of goodness, Spi. Admit, sir, The patent of your life should be call'd in; I urge no pressures by the scorn of change; Cast. And such conclusion, sister, Aur. 'Tis true, Castanna. Spi. I grant it truth; yet, Auria, I'm a woman, And therefore apt to fear: to show my duty, And not to take heart from you, I'll walk from Spi. Speak, good, speak. Aur. The steps [CAST. walks aside. Young ladies tread, left to their own discretion, Not to procure health, but for safe prevention Some widowed neglect of handsome value: Spi. Dear heaven! go, sister, go. [Exeunt SPINELLA and CASTANNA. Aur. Done bravely, And like the choice of glory, to know mineOne of earth's best I have foregone Enter AURELIO. See, see! Yet in another I am rich, a friend, No stranger to your bosom, sir, ere now, Aur. So the wrongs I should have ventured on against thy fate Aurel. Wants! so you said, Aurel. Auria, take heed the covert of a folly Willing to range, be not, without excuse, Discover'd in the coinage of untruths; I use no harder language. Thou art near Already on a shipwreck, in forsaking The holy land of friendship [and forbearing] To talk your wants. Fie! Aur. By that sacred thing Last issued from the temple where it dwelt, Aurel. Umph! Aur. In my country, friend, Where I have sided my superior, friend, Aurel. You show Nor certainty nor weak assurance yet, Aur. He who cannot merit young, A fair wife; she, though she could never claim Aur. Show me the man that lives, and to my face Dare speak, scarce think, such tyranny against Aurel. There lives not then a friend Aur. I find it hath. Aurel. He who prescribes no law, No limits of condition to the objects Of his affection, but will merely wed A face, because 'tis round, or limn'd by nature In purest red and white; or, at the best, 1 sorted chosen, allotted. 2 sided equalled, matched.-WEBER. Aur. Sir, said ye? Aurel. You form reasons, Just ones, for your abandoning the storms Aur. Necessity must arm my confidence, Allow'd, with caution she be like to prove so. Aurel. Who? I your heir! your wife being yet so young, In every probability so forward To make you a father?-leave such thoughts. Without replies, Aurelio: keep this note, She forced on me; vow'd, by the precious love How durst she tempt thee, Futelli, knowing Fut. There lies, my lord, her cunning, Adur. Here began her itch. Fut. I answer'd she was happy then, whose choice In you, my lord, was singular. Fut. She smiled, and said, it might be so; and yet There stopp'd: then I closed with her, and concluded The title of a lord was not enough For absolute perfection; I had seen Adur. And love thee for it. Fut. 'Phew, let that pass,' quoth she; 'and now we prattle I left with her, a fourth I carry with me. Am I not poor, Aurelio, now? Exchange Of more debates between us, would undo My resolution; walk a little, pr'ythee, Of handsome gentlemen, in my opinion, Malfato is a very pretty fellow; Is he not, pray, sir?' I had then the truth speak Friends we are, and will embrace; but let's not Without comparison, my honour'd lord, Another word. Aurel. I'll follow you to your horse. [Exeunt. ACT I-SCENE II. A Room in the House of ADURNI. Enter ADURNI, and FUTELLI with a letter, Adur. With her own hand? A second means, but kiss'd the letter first, instant, Commend my truth and secrecy.' Such medley Of passion yet I never saw in woman. Adur. In woman? thou'rt deceived; but that we both 1 else, &c. There is apparently some defect here. 2 idle-foolish, weak.-WEBER. That soon we both concluded of the man, The match and business. Adur. For delivering A letter to Malfato? No sooner had consented, with protests- Fut. Will not your lordship peruse the contents? Adur. Enough, I know too much; be just and cunning; A wanton mistress is a common sewer.- |