should infer that it was far from being his only dramatic production, though no other has been preserved. THOMAS NABBES, who died about 1645, was the author of a very suecessful masque, entitled Microcosmus. He also produced several other plays, which were written, either by himself alone, or conjointly with others. In 'Microcosmus' we find the following fine song of love:— Welcome, welcome, happy pair, To these abodes where spicy air No winter's ice, no summer's scorching beam; Day always springing from eternal light. Chorus.-All mortal suffering laid aside, Here in endless bliss abide. NATHANIEL FIELD, who was an actor, and personated one of the characters in Ben Jonson's 'Poetaster,' began to write for the stage about 1609. His principal dramas are Woman is a Weathercock, and Amends for Ladies. He also had the honor of aiding Massinger in the composition of The Fatal Dowry.' JOHN DAY, in conjunction with Chettle, wrote The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, a popular comedy, and was also the author of two or three other plays, and some miscellaneous poems. HENRY GLAPTHORNE was a prolific writer, and is mentioned by his contemporaries as one of the chief dramatic poets of the reign of Charles the First. A number of his plays were published, the principal of which are, Albertus Wallenstein, The Hollander, Argalus and Parthenia, Wit in a Constable, and the Lady's Privilege. Glapthorne's plays abound with a certain smoothness and prettiness of expression which is very agreeable, but he is deficient in passion and energy. THOMAS RANDOLPH, whom we have already noticed among the miscellaneous poets of this period, wrote The Muses' Looking-glass, and The Jealous Lovers. An anonymous play, Sweetman, the Woman-hater, with the production of which Randolph is supposed to have been connected, contains the following happy simile: Justice, like lightning, ever should appear RICHARD BROME, one of the very best of these secondary dramatists, produced several plays, of which The Antipodes, The City Wit and The Court Beggar, long retained their place upon the stage. Ford, Heywood, and Shirley close the long and interesting list of dramatic writers who adorned the age of Elizabeth and her two immediate successors. JOHN FORD was of a good Devonshire family, and was born in 1586. He received a university education, after which he repaired to London, and entered Gray's Inn, as a student of law. Having completed his legal studies and commenced his profession, he turned his attention to the drama as a pastime. His first efforts as a writer for the stage, were made in connection with Webster and Dekker. He also assisted Rowley in the composition of 'The Witch of Edmonton,' already mentioned, the last act of which is supposed to have been written entirely by Ford. In 1628, appeared The Lover's Melancholy, dedicated to his friends and associates of the society of Gray's Inn. In 1633, were published his three tragedies, The Brother and Sister, The Broken Heart, and Love's Sacrifice. He next wrote Perkin Warbeck, a correct and spirited historical drama. Two other pieces, Fancies Chaste and Noble, and The Lady's Trial, produced in 1638, complete the list of Ford's works. His death occurred in 1639, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. A tone of pensive tenderness and pathos, with a peculiarly soft and musical style of blank verse, characterizes all the dramas of this poet. The choice of his subjects was unhappy; yet Coleridge suggests, that the selection of horrible stories for his two best plays, may have been merely an exercise of intellectual power. 'His moral sense was gratified by indignation at the dark possibilities of sin, and by compassion for rare extremes of suffering.' The scenes in his 'Brother and Sister,' describing the criminal loves of Annabella and Giovanni, are painfully interesting, and to the feelings, harrowing in the extreme; and yet they contain his best poetry and finest expression. The truth is, the old dramatists loved to sport and dally with such forbidden themes, as they tempted the imagination, and thus awoke slumbering fires of pride, passion, and wickedness, that lurk in the recesses of the human heart. They lived in an age of excitement-the newly-awakened intellect warring with the senses-the baser parts of humanity with its noblest qualities. In this struggle, the dramatic poets were plunged; and they depicted forcibly what they saw and felt. Much as they wrote, their time was not spent in shady retirement: they flung themselves into the full tide of the passions, sounded its depths, wrestled with its difficulties and defilements, and were borne onward in headlong career. A few, like poor Marlow and Greene, sunk early in undeplored misery, and nearly all were unhappy. This very recklessness and daring, however, gave a mighty impulse and freedom to their genius. They were emancipated from ordinary restraints; they were strong in their skeptic pride and self-will; they surveyed the whole of life, and gave expression to those wild half-shaped thoughts and unnatural promptings, which wiser conduct and reflection would have instantly repressed and condemned. With them the passion of love was an all-pervading fire, that consumed the decencies of life: sometimes it was gross and sensual, but in other moments, imbued with a wild, preternatural sweetness and fervor. Anger, pity, jealousy, revenge, remorse, and the other primary feelings and elements of our nature, were crowded into their short existence, as they were into their scenes. Nor was the light of religion quenched: there were glimpses of heaven in the midst of the darkest vice and debauchery. Happily the better genius of Shakspeare lifted him above this agitated region. Ford was apparently of regular deportment, but of morbid diseased imagination. Charles Lamb ranks him with the first order of poets; but this praise is excessive. Admitting his sway over the tender passions, and the occasional beauty of his language and conceptions, still he wants the strength and elevation of great genius. He has, however, the power over tears, and makes his readers sympathize even with his vicious characters. Illustrative of this author's genius and style, we shall present only the following passage: CONTENTION OF A BIRD AND A MUSICIAN. Menaphon and Amethus. Men. Passing from Italy to Greece, the tales Which poets of an elder time have feign'd To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came; and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions I day by day frequented silent groves Men. I shall soon resolve you. A sound of music touch'd mine ears, or rather, This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute Men. A nightingale, Nature's best skill'd musician, undertakes The challenge, and for every several strain The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her own; Upon his quaking instrument, than she, The nightingale, did with her various notes That such they were, than hope to hear again. Men. You term them rightly; For they were rivals, and their mistress, harmony. Whom art had never taught clefs, moods, or notes, Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly, So many voluntaries, and so quick, That there was curiosity and cunning, Concord in discord, lines of differing method Amet. Now for the bird. Men. The bird, ordain'd to be Music's first martyr, strove to imitate These several sounds: which, when her warbling throat To see the conqueror upon her hearse, To weep a funeral elegy of tears; That, trust me, my Amethus, I could chide Mine own unmanly weakness, that made me Amet. I believe thee. Men. He look'd upon the trophies of his art, Then sigh'd, then wiped his eyes, then sigh'd and cried: This cruelty upon the author of it: Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood, Shall never more betray a harmless peace To an untimely end:' and in that sorrow, I suddenly stept in. Amet. Thou hast discours'd A truth of mirth and pity. [Lover's Melancholy.] THOMAS HEYWOOD was both an actor and poet. Of his life so few particulars have been preserved, that we can ascertain neither the period of his birth, nor the time of his death. He was a native of Lincolnshire, and was a fellow of Peter House College, Cambridge. He commenced writing for the stage as early as 1596, and continued to exercise his ready pen until 1640; during which time he had, as he himself informs us, 'an entire hand, or at least a main finger, in two hundred and twenty plays.' Of this vast number of dramas, only twenty-three have been preserved; the best of which are A Woman Killed with Kindness, The English Traveller, A Challenge for Beauty, The Royal King and Loyal Subjects, The Lancaster Witches, The Rape of Lucrece, and Love's Mistress. In one of his prologues he thus adverts to the various sources of his multifarious labors : To give content to this most curious age, The gods themselves we've brought down to the stage, (Saving the muse's rapture) further we As tracks more vulgar, whether read or sung Of fairies, elves, nymphs of the sea and land, The lawns, the groves, no number can be scann'd These lines were written in 1637, and they show how eager the playgoing public were, at that time, for novelties, though they possessed the dramas of Shakspeare and his contemporaries. As a dramatist, Heywood had a fine poetical fancy and abundance of classical imagery; but his taste was defective, and scenes of low buffoonery, 'merry accidents, intermixed with apt and witty jests,' deform his plays. There is a natural repose in his scenes,' says the Edinburgh Review, 'which contrasts pleasingly with the excitement of other writers for the stage at the same period. Middleton looks upon his characters with the feverish anxiety with which we listen to the trial of great criminals, or watch their behaviour upon the scaffold. Webster lays out their corpses in the prison, and sings the dirge over them when they are buried at midnight in unhallowed ground. Heywood leaves his characters before they come into these situations. He walks quietly to and fro among them while they are yet at large as members of society; contenting himself with a sad smile at their follies, or with a frequent warning to them on the consequences of their crimes.' The following description of Psyche, from 'Love's Mistress,' is in his best vein :— [Admetus,-Astioche,-Petrea.] Adm. Welcome to both in one! Oh, can you tell Both. Psyche is well. Adm. So among mortals it is often said, Children and friends are well when they are dead. Ast. But Psyche lives, and on her breath attend |