“ But that a man of his great trust and busines
Should sinck or suffer under doubts or whispers
Or loose his honour by an others envy,
Is not faire play nor honest. The Prince of Orange,
Most thinck, affects him not, nor he the Prince.
That either of their angry wills should prove
A lawful act to ruyn one another,
And not a medium of more open Justice,
More equall and more honorable, step in,
Man had no powre to stand nor fall with honour.
If he be falce, honest and upright proofes
Will ripen the Imposture.
Enter Barnavelt and his Son. ”

“ Sis. Nay, here's enough a Conscience! What a Noise this confusion of languages make; tis almost as good as a beare baiting. Harke you, Sir, you are never like to recover me by law.
Co. You are not the first sweet Ladie has been overthrowne at Common Lawe.
Sis. Not by tenn thousand, Sir. Confest: but I have no mind to come to issue with a Lawyer; when he should consider my cause at home, heele be at Westminster, teaching men the Statutes. No, no, I wo'not marry a Judge.
Co. Why, Lady?
Sis. They are casuall things and men that hold such strange opinions. ”

“ Bar. I shall shortly; An everlasting ease, I hope.
Wife. Why weep ye, My deere Sir? speak.
Bar. Never till now unhappie! Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeather And fortune gives me heires of my disgraces.
Wife. Take nobler thoughts.
Bar. What will becom of thee, Wiffe,
When I am gon? When they have gorgd their envies
With what I have, what honest hand in pitty
Will powre out to thy wants? What noble eye
Will looke upon my Children strooke with miserie
And say 'you had a father that I honourd;
For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters.'
Wife. ”

“ All are anonymous; but it is absolutely certain that Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt is a masterpiece by Fletcher and Massinger; that Captain Underwit is a comedy of Shirley's; and that the Lady Mother (a piece of no particular merit) is by Glapthorne. I am not at all sure that I am right in ascribing Dick of Devonshire to Heywood. But, whoever may have been the author, I am confident that this well-written play will be welcomed by all. ”

“ It gives the end of our play quite a wrench, and deprives Barnavelt of the sympathies which we had been forced to turn on him through his intrepid behaviour in the great trial scene. We had almost gained the conviction that his aims were really pure, and here we are called on to witness his utter collapse, in which he almost whines for pardon for his sins, and, like all worthless fellows without character seems actually to soften in gratitude to the man who sent him to his death. ”

“ And had their loves, the molding of their busines,
Trusted with their most secreat purposes?
Of every State acquainted with the misteries?
And must I stick here now, stick unreleevd, too?
Must all theis glories vanish into darknes,
And Barnavelt passe with 'em and glide away
Like a spent exhalation? I cannot hold;
I am crackt too deepe alredy. What have I don
I cannot answeare? Foole! remember not
Fame has too many eares and eyes to find thee!
What help, ô miserable man? none left thee.
What constant frends? 'tis now a cryme to know thee
... ... ... be death. ”

“ But equall with our parrets or at best
But a degree above them, prating creatures
Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see
A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue
To say,— (he is soe like December come
A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes
Of youth and bravery as if he meant
To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier) —
We have not so much spleene as will engender
A modest laughter at him?
Bel. Nay, theres his Nephew, Crackby, your sweet servant.
Clar. My Servant! I do admire that man's impudence, How he dare speake to any woman.
Bon. Why, is he not flesh and blood? ”

“ He cannot be so boyish.
Son. My goverment of Barghen is disposd of; Their anger now against us all profest, And in your ruyn all must fall.
Bar. A prisoner!
Modesbargen fledd! I am glad he is scapt their fingers.
Now if the devill had but this Leidenberge
I were safe enough. What a dull foole was I,
A stupid foole, to wrap up such a secreat
In a sheepes hart! ô I could teare my flesh now
And beat my leaden braines!
Son. Faith, try the Prince, Sir; You are at your last. ”

“ Ere I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes.
Leid. Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?
Bar. Dye any way,
Dye in a dreame: he that first gave us honours
Allowes us also safe waies to preserve 'em,
To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany.
We may be our owne Justice: he that loses
His Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintness
Is guilty of a doble death, his name dies;
He is onely pious that preserves his heire
His honour when he's dead.
Leid. 'Tis no great paine.
Bar. 'Tis nothing:
Imagination onely makes it monstrous. ”

“ And duty that I owe my Cuntry binds me,
It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleene
Then pious zeale. But that is not the hazard
Which I would shun: I rather feare the men
We must offend in this, being great, rich, wise,
Sided with strong frends, trusted with the guard
Of places most important, will bring forth
Rather new births of tumult, should they be
Calld to their Triall, then appease disorder
In their iust punishment; and in doing Justice
On three or foure that are delinquents, loose
So many thousand inocents that stand firme
And faithfull patriots. ”

“ My Cuntries care and where I owe most service,
Like a man perishd in his worth I am exilde.
Bar. Your Grace must know we cannot wait attendaunce, Which happely you looke for.
Or. Wayt, my lords!
Bar. Nor what we shall designe for the States comfort
Stay your deliberate crosses. We know you are able,
And every way a wise Prince fitt for counsell;
But I must tell ye, Sir, and tell ye truly,
The Soldier has so blowne ye up, so swelld ye
And those few services you call your owne,
That now our commendations are too light gales,
Too slacke and emptie windes, to move your worthes ”

“ Through all Heywood's writings there runs a vein of generous kindliness: everywhere we see a gentle, benign countenance, radiant with love and sympathy. On laying down one of his plays, the reader is inclined to apply to him Tacitus' judgment of Agricola, "bonum virum facile crederes, magnum libenter." Now, when we open Dick of Devonshire, the naturalness and simplicity of the first scene at once suggest Heywood's hand. ”

“ Sirra Englishman, Know you that weapon?—reach it him.
Pike. Yes, it Was once mine; and drawes teares from me to think How 'twas forced from me.
Mac. How many Spanyards Killd you with that sword?
Pike. Had I killd one This Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleading Before such Princely Judges: there stands the man.
Gyr. Don John, sett he on you or you on him? ”

“ Why, because wind is the cause of many things; now if the wind bee not in the right corner tis the ill wind our proverbe speakes of that blowes nobodie good; for when vapors and wind flie into the head it cannot be in two places at one time: and that's the reason your men of most wit doe seldome love a woman.—But here comes my Master and Sir Francis. ”

“ INTRODUCTION TO DICK OF DEVONSHIRE. The play of Dick of Devonshire, now first printed (from Eg. MS., 1994 [1] ) , is distinctly a well-written piece, the work of a practised hand. There is nothing amateurish in the workmanship; the reader is not doomed to soar into extravagances at one moment, and sink into flatnesses at another. Ample opportunities were offered for displays of boisterous riot, but the playwright's even-balanced mind was not to be disturbed. Everywhere there are traces of studious care ”

“ My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath.
Thu. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on, Is of another kind: tis to a woman.
Lov. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't.
Thu. None o'my life, theres none.
Lov. Let me see, let me see: No, twas not hers, twas Grimeses knavery.
Thu. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension. He minds me not but is in disputation With his owne thoughts.
Lov. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then.
Ha to thee, ha, sirra Grimes!
—When man gainst man conspire to doe evill,
For what Society is a fitt! ”

“ Oh the Neats tongues and partargoes that I have eaten at Stillyard, but of all things in the world I do not love a black catt: next a brewers cart, there's nothing will stay a man so much in the night as a Constables. ”

“ Leid. 'Tis done: this traitor tongue has don it, This coward tongue.
Bar. Confessd!
Leid. He lookes me blind now.
Bar. How I could cursee thee, foole, despise thee, spurne thee,
But thou art a thing not worthie of mine anger.
A frend! a dog: a whore had byn more secreat,
A common whore a closer Cabinet.
Confest! upon what safety, thou trembling aspyn,
Upon what hope? Is there ought left to buoy us
But our owne confidence? What frends now follow us,
That have the powre to strike of theis misfortunes,
But our owne constant harts? ”

“ Enter Sir Francis and Ladie.
La. It is no honour, Sir, if arm'd with so
Much eloquence you overcome a woman.
I blush to say I love you now too much;
I wish you would release what your sweet charmes
Won from my tongue; I shall repent my promise.
Fra. Make me not miserable after so much blessing.
Why, Madam, tis on honourable tearmes,
Since not upon the first attempt but after
A tedious seige in to your faire love you give up
What shall enrich us both. It were a sinne
To feare you can retract what both our lipps
Have seal'd, and loose a happines so neare
And so secure. ”

“ The following passage from Shirley's Love in a Maze (1632) is not noticed by Mr. Collier:—
"Many gentlemen
Are not, as in the days of understanding,
Now satisfied without a jig, which since
They cannot, with their honour, call for after
The Play, they look to be serv'd up in the middle:
Your dance is the best language of some comedies
And footing runs away with all; a scene
Express'd with life of art and squared to nature
Is dull and phlegmatic poetry."
—Works (ed. Gifford and Dyce) , ii. 339. ”

“ I know are ripe allready; 'tis not stealth,
I shall rob nobody.
Ele. You'le not be a divell?
Hen. No, I will but play the man with you: why, you know 'tis nothing.
Ele. Will you enforce mine honour? oh, Henrico,
Where have you left your goodnesse? sure you cannot
Be so ignoble, if you thinke me worthy
To be your wife at least, to turne Eleonora
Into a whore.
Hen. Pish! some hungry Landlords would have rent before
The Quarter day,—I doe no more: by faire meanes
Yield up your fort; the Tenement is mine owne
And I must dwell in't.
Ele. My feares pointed wrong:
You are no enemy, no wolfe ”

“ Tis above wonder: could I as well rule
Her will as her exterior actions,
She should not thus reject you; but I cannot
Limitt her mind, compell her to affect
Against her liking. If perswations may
Reduse her, Ile endevour it.
Thu. Twilbe needles;
I am resolvd to meet her in revolt,
Hug infidelity with as strong a faith
As she can possible; and if mans mallice
Can passe a womans, my dispight shall winne
Preheminence. I will inquire out one
By nature framd in scorne of bewty, and
In your perfidious daughters presence give her
That heart which she reiected. ”

“ You may goe to Church in the Countrey without a new Satten gowne, and play at penny gleeke [224] with a Justice of peaces wife and the parsons; show your white hand with but one Diamond when you carve and not be asham'd to weare your owne wedding ring with the old poesie. There are no Doctors to make you sick wife; no legends of lies brought home by yong gallants that fill my Dyning roome with fleas and new fashions, that will write verses upon the handle of your fanne and comend the education of your Monkey, which is so like their worships as they were all of one familie. ”

“ Studded with starres, drawne through the subtle aire
By birds of paradise, wee'll ride together
To fruitfull Thessalie, where in fair Tempe
(The only pleasant place of all the earth)
Wee'll sport us under a pavilion
Of Tyrian scarlet.
Justina. Should these rarities
(Faithlesse as are your wondrous promises)
Lead me into the hazard of my soule
And losse of such ay-lasting happinesse
As all earths glories are but shaddows to?
Cyprian. Thincke you this rare pile of perfection.
Wherein Love reads a lecture of delight,
Ows not it's use to Nature? ”

“ There are two passages (apud Nares) of Fletcher's bearing on the present difficulty:—
"My rest is up, wench, and I pull for that
Will make me ever famous." Woman's Prize, I. 2.
"Faith, sir, my rest is up,
And what I now pull shall no more afflict me
Than if I play'd at span-counter." Monsieur Thomas, IV. 9.
Dyce accepts Nares' suggestion that pull means to draw a card; but if a player is standing on his cards, why should he want to draw a card? There is an old expression, to "pull down a side," i.e. to ruin one's partner (by bad play) ”

“ This Wench has a notable witt, if I have any Judgment: I doe not thinke but shee's in love with me. If I thought shee were not given to be with child I would examine her abilities; but these waiting women are so fruitfull, when they have a good turne from a gentleman they have not the vertue of concealment: touch a Chambermaide and take a Child, —everything workes with their soluble bodies. ”

“ To fill the place I bore? None, not a man:
To traffick with Great Princes? none: to deale
With all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man:
To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man;
They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em.
Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before
Myne owne weake thoughts?—Art thou there, too?
Enter Wife [184] and Daughter.
Wife. Fy, fy, Sir:
Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements
To choake your speritts? You have studied long enough
To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;
'Tis time you take your ease now. ”