CHAPTER VIII. THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. BEN JONSON. 1573-1637. (Manual, p. 152.) 89. FROM THE Sad Shepherd; or, a TALE OF ROBIN HOOD. Alken, an old Shepherd, instructs Robin Hood's men how to find a Witch, and how she is to be hunted. Alken. Within a gloomy dimble' she doth dwell, Down in a pit o'ergrown with brakes and briars, Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey, Torn with an earthquake down unto the ground, 'Mongst graves, and grots, near an old charnel-house, As fearful, and melancholic, as that She is about; with caterpillars' kells, And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells. To make ewes cast their lambs, swine eat their farrow; Writhe children's wrists, and suck their breath in sleep; Get vials of their blood; and where the sea Wherewith she kills; where the sad mandrake grows, And martegan; 2 the shrieks of luckless owls, 1 Dingle, or dell. 2 A kind of lily. 3 Bats. The scaly beetles, with their habergeons There, in the stocks of trees, white fays do dwell, And mount the sphere of fire, to kiss the moon; 4 Seals, or talismans. 90. FROM SEJanus. Sejanus, the morning he is condemned by the Senate, receives some tokens which presage his death. Ter. Min. Sej. Ter. Sej. SEJANUS, POMPONIUS, MINUTIUS, TERENTIUS, &c. Are these things true? Thousands are gazing at it in the streets. What's that? Minutius tells us here, my lord, That a new head being set upon your statue, Of a great ball was seen to roll along The troubled air, where yet it hangs unperfect, Send for the tribunes: we will straight have up Trio the consul, or what senators You know are sure, and ours. You, my good Natta, Arm all our servants, For Laco, provost of the watch. Now, Satrius, The time of proof comes on. And without tumult. You, Pomponius, Hold some good correspondence with the consul⚫ Attempt him, noble friend. These things begin If you will, destinies, that after all I faint now ere I touch my period, You are but cruel; and I already have done Things great enough. All Rome hath been my slave; And witness of my power; when I have blushed The fathers have sat ready and prepared To give me empire, temples, or their throats, When I would ask them; and (what crowns the top) 'Tis then your malice, Fates, who (but your own) BEAUMONT, 1586-1615, and FLETCHER, 1576-1625. (Manual, p. 157.) 91. FROM THE FAITHFUL Shepherdess. Clorin, a Shepherdess, watching by the grave of her Lover, is found by a Satyr. Clor. Hail, holy earth, whose cold arms do embrace The truest man that ever fed his flocks Of love: all sports, delights, and jolly games, Since thou art far away, by whose dear side Puts on his lusty green, with gaudy hook, But thou art gone, and these are gone with thee, That shall outlive thee, and shall ever spring, Dwell by thy grave, forgetting all those joys My meat shall be what these wild woods afford, Pulled from the fair head of the straight-grown pine. When night shall blind the world, by thy side blessed. A Satyr enters. Satyr. Thorough yon same bending plain That flings his arms down to the main, And through these thick woods have I run, Whose bottom never kissed the sun. Since the lusty spring began, All to please my master Pan, And live: therefore on this mould Lowly do I bend my knee Deign it, goddess, from my hand The head of Bacchus; nuts more brown For these, black-eyed Driopé Hath oftentimes commanded me See how well the lusty time Hath decked their rising cheeks in red, Here be berries for a queen, Some be red, some be green; These are of that luscious meat The great god Pan himself doth eat: All these, and what the woods can yield, The hanging mountain, or the field, I freely offer, and ere long Will bring you more, more sweet and strong; Till when, humbly leave I take, Lest the great Pan do awake, That sleeping lies in a deep glade, Under a broad beech's shade. I must go, I must run, Swifter than the fiery sun. 92. FROM THE Two Noble Kinsmen. Palamon and Arcite, repining at their hard condition, in being made captives for life in Athens, derive consolation from the enjoyment of each other's company in prison. Where is Thebes now? where is our noble country? Where are our friends and kindreds? never more Must we behold those comforts, never see The hardy youths strive for the games of honor, |