and upon the stone that indicated their last resting place, Sir Aston Cock aine incribed the following quaint epitaph : In the same grave Fletcher was buried, here Massinger wrote a number of dramas conjointly with Fletcher, Middleton, Rowley, Field, Dekker, and others; and such was his popularity that most of his contemporaries esteemed it an honor to be thus connected with him. Of the dramas exclusively his own, The Virgin Martyr, The Bondman, The Fatal Dowry, The City Madam, and A New Way to Pay Old Debts, are his best known productions. Massinger's comedy resembles, in its eccentric strength and wayward exhibitions of human nature, that of Ben Jonson. The greediness of avarice, the tyranny of unjust laws, and the miseries of poverty, are drawn with a powerful hand. The luxuries and vices of a city life, also, afforded scope for his indignant and forcible invective. The tragedies of Massinger have a calm and dignified seriousness, and a lofty pride, that impresses the imagination very powerfully. His genius was more eloquent and descriptive than impassioned and inventive; yet his pictures of suffering virtue, its struggles and its trials, are calculated to touch the heart, as well as gratify the taste. The versification is so smooth and mellifluous, as to be second only to that of Shakspeare. Massinger's dramas afford fine scope for extracts, but our space will allow us to introduce only the following: A MIDNIGHT SCENE. [Angelo, an Angel, attends Dorothea as a Page.] Dor. My book and taper. Ang. Here, most holy mistress. Dor. Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound. Were every servant in the world like thee, Z In golden letters down I'll set that day Ang. Proud am I that my lady's modest eye Dor. I have offer'd Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents. Ang. I am not: I did never Know who my mother was; but, by yon palace, Dor. A bless'd day. COMPASSION FOR MISFORTUNE. Luke. No word, sir, I hope shall give offence; nor let it relish Of flattery, though I proclaim aloud, I glory in the bravery of your mind, [Virgin Martyr.] To which your wealth 's a servant. Not that riches Is, or should be, contemn'd, it being a blessing Deriv'd. from heaven, and by your industry Pull'd down upon you; but in this, dear sir, Heaven keep me thankful for 'it!), while they are curs'd In the garments of your thankful debtors' breath, With a prodigal hand rewarded. Whereas, such The goods of this poor man sold at an outcry, When the rebels unto reason, passions, fought it. Acquainted with religion. Sir John. Shall I be * * Luke. No sir, but intreated Sir John. How, my good brother ? Luke. By making these your beadsmen. When they eat, [City Madam.] Before we pass on to the writers who close this important dramatic period we must very briefly notice their less eminent contemporaries, Taylor, Rowley, Tourneur, Cooke, Nabbes, Field, Day, Glapthorne, Randolph and Brome. The public demand for theatrical novelties, called forth, at this time, a succession of writers in this popular, and profitable department of literature, who, though not men of the most exalted genius, still left the rich stamp of the age, both in style and thought, upon many of their pages. Of the personal history of these writers little is known, a few scattered dates usually making up the whole amount of their biography. Of ROBERT TAYLOR, the author here first mentioned, nothing farther is known than that he wrote an amusing drama under the quaint title, The Hog hath Lost his Pearl, and some other pieces of a similar character. WILLIAM ROWLEY was an actor as well as author. Besides other plays written conjointly with Middleton and Dekker, he produced a tragicomedy, The Witch of Edmonton, in the composition of which Ford also is suspected of having taken a part. His drama embodies, in a striking form, the vulgar superstition respecting witchcraft, which so long debased the popular mind in England. We quote the following passage : [Mother Sawyer alone.] Saw. And why on me? why should the envious world Throw all their scandalous malice upon me? Make me to credit it. [Banks, a Farmer, enters.] Banks. Out, out upon thee, witch! Saw. Dost call me witch? Banks. I do, witch; I do; And worse I would, knew I a name more hateful. Saw. Gather a few rotten sticks to warm me. Banks. Down with them when I bid thee, quickly; I'll make thy bones rattle in thy skin else. Saw. You won't! churl, cut-throat, miser! there they be. Would they stuck 'cross thy throat, thy bowels, thy maw, thy midriff Banks. Say'st thou me so. Hag, out of my ground. Saw. Dost strike me, slave, curmudgeon? Now thy bones aches, thy joints cramps, And convulsions stretch and crack thy sinews. Banks. Cursing, thou hag? take that, and that. Saw. Strike, do: and wither'd may that hand and arm, Whose blows have lam'd me, drop from the rotten trunk. Abuse me! beat me! call me hag and witch! What is the name? where, and by what art learn'd? [Exit.] What spells, or charms, or invocations, May the thing call'd Familiar be purchased? I am shunn'd And hated like a sickness; made a scorn To all degrees and sexes. I have heard old beldams Talk of familiars in the shape of mice, Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what, That have appear'd; and suck'd, some say, their blood. Upon this churl. I'd go out of myself, CYRIL TOURNEUR, besides being concerned in the production of many others, wrote, himself, two very good dramas, The Atheist's Tragedy, and The Revenger's Tragedy. From the former we may select the following characteristic description of a Drowned Soldier : Walking upon the fatal shore, GEORGE COOKE was the author of a lively comedy under the title of Greene's Tu Quoque. From the character and finish of this play, we |