of a beautiful and faithful wife. As he approaches his own house, and already treads on the brink of perdition, he exclaims with an exuberance of satisfaction not to be restrained "How near am I to a happiness That earth exceeds not! not another like it: That's built on vaults where carcases lie rotting; And full as long; after a five days' fast She'll be so greedy now and cling about me: I take care how I shall be rid of her: And here 't begins." This dream is dissipated by the entrance of Brancha and his Mother. "Bran. Oh, sir, you're welcome home. Why this is dreadful now as sudden death Has any thing dislik'd thee in my absence? Bran. No, certain, I have had the best content That Florence can afford. Lean. Thou makest the best on't: Speak, mother, what's the cause? you must needs know. 'Tis a sweet recreation for a gentlewoman To stand in a bay-window, and see gallants. Lean. Now I have another temper, a mere stranger To that of yours, it seems; I should delight Bran. I praise not that; Too fond is as unseemly as too churlish; Nay, wer't yourself, whose love had power you know As look on one thing still: what's the eye's treasure, For woman's eye to look on several men, As for her heart, sir, to be fixed on one. Lean. Now, thou com'st home to me; a kiss for that word. Bran. No matter for a kiss, sir; let it pass; 'Tis but a toy, we'll not so much as mind it; Moth. (Aside.) I'm glad he's here yet, Lean. Speak, what's the humour, sweet, You make your lips so strange? This was not wont. Bran. Is there no kindness betwixt man and wife, Unless they make a pigeon-house of friendship, And be still billing? 'Tis the idlest fondness Lean. How? a whole fortnight! why, is that so long? And I was bound to obey it. Moth. (Aside.) Here's one fits him; This was well catch'd i' faith, son, like a fellow And brings it home with him to his own house. Who knocks? [A messenger from the Duke knocks within. Lean. Who's there now? Withdraw you, Brancha; [Exit Brancha." The Witch of Middleton is his most remarkable performance; both on its own account, and from the use that Shakspeare has made of some of the characters and speeches in his Macbeth.' Though the employment which Middleton has given to Hecate and the rest, in thwarting the purposes and perplexing the business of familiar and domestic life, is not so grand or appalling as the more stupendous agency which Shakspeare has assigned them, yet it is not easy to deny the merit of the first invention to Middleton, who has embodied the existing superstitions of the time, respecting that anomalous class of beings, with a high spirit of poetry, of the most grotesque and fanciful kind. The songs and incantations made use of are very nearly the same. The other parts of this play are not so good; and the solution of the principal difficulty, by Antonio's falling down a trap-door, most lame and impotent. As a specimen of the similarity of the preternatural machinery, I shall here give one entire scene. "The Witches' Habitation. Enter HECCAT, STADLIN, HOPPO, and other Witches. Hec. The moon's a gallant: see how brisk she rides. Stad. Here's a rich evening, Heccat. Hec. Aye, is 't not, wenches, To take a journey of five thousand miles ? Hop. Ours will be more to-night. Hec. Oh, 't will be precious. Heard you the owl yet? Stad. Briefly, in the copse, As we came through now. Hec. 'Tis high time for us then. Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times As we came through the woods, and drank her fill: Old Puckle saw her. Hec. You are fortunate still, The very scritch-owl lights upon your shoulder, Stad. All. Hec. Prepare to flight then. I'll overtake you swiftly. Stad. Hie then, Heccat! We shall be up betimes. Hec. I'll reach you quickly. Enter FIRESTONE. [They ascend. Fire. They are all going a-birding to-night. They talk of fowls i' th' air, that fly by day, I'm sure ther'll be a company of foul sluts there to-night. If we have not mortality affeared, I'll be hang'd, for they are able to putrify it, to infect a whole region. She spies me now. Hec. What, Firestone, our sweet son? Fire. A little sweeter than some of you; or a dunghill were too good for me. Hec. How much hast there? Fire. Nineteen, and all brave plump ones; besides six lizards, and three serpentine eggs. Hec. Dear and sweet boy! What herbs hast thou? Fire. I have some mar-martin and man-dragon. Hec. Marmarittin, and mandragora, thou would'st say. Fire. Here's pannax, too. I thank thee; my pan akes, I am sure, with kneeling down to cut 'em. Hec. And selago, Hedge-hissop, too! How near he goes my cuttings! Were they all cropt by moon-light? Fire. Every blade of 'em, or I am a moon-calf, mother. Hec. Hie thee home with 'em. Look well to th' house to-night: I'm for aloft. Fire. Aloft, quoth you? I would you would break your neck once, that I might have all quickly (Aside.)—Hark, hark, mother! They are above the steeple already, flying over your head with a noise of musicians. Hec. They are indeed. Help me! Help me! I'm too late else. SONG (in the air above.) Come away, come away! Hec. Spirit. Hec. Fire. Where's Puckle? Here: And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too; (A Spirit descends in the shape of a cat.) And why thou stay'st so long, I muse, I muse, Oh, art thou come, What news, what news? All goes still to our delight, Now I am furnish'd for the flight. Hark, hark! The cat sings a brave treble in her own lan guage. Hec. (Ascending with the Spirit.) (Above.) Now I go, now I fly, Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I. Oh, what a dainty pleasure 'tis To ride in the air When the moon shines fair, And sing, and dance, and toy, and kiss! We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits. Or cannon's roar our height can reach. Fire. Well, mother, I thank your kindness. You must be gamboling i' the air, and leave me to walk here like a fool and a mortal. [Exit. The incantation scene at the cauldron is also the original of that in Macbeth, and is in like manner introduced by the Duchess's visiting the Witches' habitation. |