Jonson founded a style of regular English comedy, massive, well compacted, and fitted to endure, yet not very attractive in its materials. His works, altogether, consist of about fifty dramatic pieces, but by far the greater part are masques and interludes. His principal comedies are, Every Man in his Humour,' Falcon Tavern. 'Volpone,' the 'Silent Woman,' and the Alchemist.' His Roman tragedies may be considered literal impersonations of classic antiquity, robust and richly graced,' yet stiff and unnatural in style and construction. They seem to bear about the same resemblance to Shakspeare's classic dramas that sculpture does to actual life. The strong delineation of character is the most striking feature in Jonson's comedies. The voluptuous Volpone is drawn with great breadth and freedom; and generally his portraits of eccentric characters-men in whom some peculiarity has grown to an egregious excess-are ludicrous and impressive. His scenes and characters show the labour of the artist, but still an artist possessing rich resources; an acute and vigorous intellect; great knowledge of life, down to its lowest descents; wit, lofty declamation, and a power of dramatising his knowledge and observation, with singular skill and effect. His pedantry is often misplaced and ridiculous: when he wishes to satirise his opponents of the drama, he lays the scene in the court of Augustus, and makes himself speak as Horace. In one of his Roman tragedies, he prescribes for the composition of a mucus, or wash for the face! His comic theatre is a gallery of strange, clever, original portraits, powerfully drawn, and skilfully disposed, but many of them repulsive in expression, or so exaggerated, as to look like caricatures or libels on humanity. We have little deep passion or winning tenderness to link the beings of his drama with those we love or admire, or to make us sympathise with them as with existing mortals. The charm of reality is generally wanting, or when found, it is not a pleasing reality. When the great artist escapes entirely from his elaborate wit and personified humours into the region of fancy (as in the lyrical passages of Cynthia,' Epicene,' and the whole drama of the Sad Shepherd'), we are struck with the contrast it exhibits to his ordinary manner. He thus presents two natures; one hard, rugged, gross, and sarcastic-a mountain belly and a rocky face,' as he described his own person-the other airy, fanciful, and graceful, as if its possessor had never combated with the world and its bad passions, but nursed his understanding and his fancy in poetical seclusion and contemplation. [The Fall of Catiline.] Petreius. The straits and needs of Catiline being such, As he must fight with one of the two armies His countenance was a civil war itself; 13 As if he labour'd yet to grasp the state Cato. A brave bad death! CYCLOPEDIA OF Had this been honest now, and for his country, [Accusation and Death of Silius in the Senate House.] [Silius, an honourable Roman, hated by Tiberius Cæsar, the emperor, and Sejanus, is unjustly accused in the senate-house by Varro, the consul. The other persons present are Domitius Afer, Latiaris, and Cotta, enemies of Silius, and Arruntius and Sabinus, his friends, with lictores and præcones, inferior officers of the senate.] Afer. Cite Caius Silius. Pra. Caius Silius! Sil. Here. Afer. The triumph that thou hadst in Germany Thou hast enjoy'd so freely, Caius Silius, Or Rome admit, that thou wert then defrauded Afer. Patience, Silius. Sil. Tell thy moil of patience I am a Roman. What are my crimes? proclaim them. That some informer gapes for? Is my strength Afer. Nay, Silius, if the name Of crime so touch thee, with what impotence Sil. I tell thee, Afer, with more scorn than fear: Var. Here. Arr. Varro the consul. Is he thrust in ? Var. 'Tis I accuse thee, Silius. Against the majesty of Rome, and Cæsar, For which thou late triumph'st; dissembling long Only to make thy entertainment more: Whilst thou and thy wife Sosia poll'd the province : Sil. Thou liest. Arr. I thank thee, Silius, speak so still and often. Sil. Cæsar, I crave to have my cause deferr'd, Tib. We cannot. Nor may we grant it. Sil. Why? shall he design My day of trial? is he my accuser? And must he be my judge? Tib. It hath been usual, And is a right that custom hath allow'd TO 1649. The magistrate, to call forth private men; Sil. Cæsar, thy fraud is worse than violence. Arr. Believe him, Silius. Cot. Why, so he may, Arruntius. And he may choose too. Tib. By the Capitol, And all our gods, but that the dear republic, Are interess'd therein, I should be silent. Afer. 'Please Cæsar to give way unto his trial; Sil. Nay, I shall have law; Afer. Would you have more? Sil. No, my well-spoken man, I would no more; Nor less might I enjoy it natural, : Not taught to speak unto your present ends, Foul wresting, and impossible construction. Sil. Thou durst not tell me so, Var. This betrays his spirit. I can see This doth enough declare him what he is. Var. An enemy to the state. Sil. Because I am an enemy to thee, Sej. This to the consul is most insolent! that Sil. Ay, take part. Reveal yourselves. But forward marks, wounds on my breast and face, Perform so noble and so brave defeat To boast my deeds, when he, whom they concern, Afer. Silius, Silius, These are the common customs of thy blood, Remain'd in their obedience. Thou wert he Their being was a donative from thee. Arr. Well worded, and most like an orator. Sil. Save thy question, Cæsar, Thy spy of famous credit hath affirm'd it. Arr. Excellent Roman! Sab. He doth answer stoutly. Sej. If this be so, there needs no other cause Of crime against him. Var. What can more impeach The royal dignity and state of Caesar, Than to be urged with a benefit He cannot pay? Cot. In this, all Cæsar's fortune Is made unequal to the courtesy. Lat. His means are clean destroy'd that should requite. Gal. Nothing is great enough for Silius' merit. Sil. Come, do not hunt And labour so about for circumstance, To make him guilty, whom you have foredoom'd: With ease restore them; that transcended once, The means that make your greatness, must not come So much away, you think: and that which help'd, Shall soonest perish, if it stand in eye, Where it may front, or but upbraid the high. Cot. Suffer him speak no more. Var. Note but his spirit. Afer. This shows him in the rest. The coward and the valiant man must fall, Look upon Silius, and so learn to die. [Stabs himself. Arr. An honourable hand! Tib. Look, is he dead? Sab. 'Twas nobly struck, and home. Arr. My thought did prompt him to it. Farewell, Silius. Be famous ever for thy great example. [Love.] [From the New Inn.'] Fall of Sejanus. LOVEL and Host of the New Inn. Lov. There is no life on earth, but being in love! There are no studies, no delights, no business, No intercourse, or trade of sense, or soul, But what is love! I was the laziest creature, The most unprofitable sign of nothing, The veriest drone, and slept away my life Beyond the dormouse, till I was in love! And now I can out-wake the nightingale, Out-watch an usurer, and out-walk him too, Stalk like a ghost that haunted 'bout a treasure; And all that fancied treasure, it is love! Host. But is your name Love-ill, sir, or Love-well! I would know that. Lov. I do not know 't myself, Whether it is. But it is love hath been The hereditary passion of our house, Host. How then? Lov. I have sent her toys, verses, and anagrams, But, as a man neglected, I came off, Host. Could you blame her, sir, When you were silent and not said a word? Lov. O, but I lov'd the more; and she might read it Best in my silence, had she been Host. As melancholic Sej. He hath spoke enough to prove him Cæsar's foe. As you are. Pray you, why would you stand mute, sir? Lat. Let him be censur'd. Cot. His thoughts look through his words. Sej. A censure. Sil. Stay Stay, most officious senate, I shall straight The frown of Cæsar, proud Sejanus' hatred, And can look down upon they are beneath me. Lov. O thereon hangs a history, mine host. I waited on his studies; which were right. Bearing his aged parent on his shoulders, Down to the laps of thankful men! But then, [A Simpleton and a Braggadocio.] this book. O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught Mat. To thee, the purest object to my sense, [Bobadil is making him ready all this while. Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my nonage; the infancy of my muses! But when will you come and see my study? Good faith, I can show you some very good things I have done of late. That boot becomes your leg passing well, captain, methinks. Bob. So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now use. Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' the fashion, Master Well-bred's elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly. This other day, I happened to enter into some discourse of a hanger, which, I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was [Bobadil, the braggadocio, in his mean and obscure lodging, most peremptory-beautiful and gentleman-like; yet is visited by Matthew, the simpleton.] somewhat audacious. Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper last night by a sort of gallants, where you were wish'd for, and drunk to, I assure you. Mat. Vouchsafe me, by whom, good captain? hostess, a stool here for this gentleman. Mat. No haste, sir; 'tis very well. Bob. Body o' me !-it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet; I was but new risen, as you came: how passes the day abroad, sir ? you can tell. Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven: now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private! Bob. Ay, sir; sit down, I pray you. Mr Matthew (in any case) possess no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Who! I, sir?-no. Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient, but in regard I would not be too popular, and generally visited as some are. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you. Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me (except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so), I could not extend thus far. Mat. O Lord, sir, I resolve so. Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book ha' you there? What! Go by, Hieronymo !1 Mat. Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is't not well penn'd ? he condemned and cried it down for the most pyed and ridiculous that ever he saw. Bob. Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't not? Mat. Ay, sir, he. Bob. Hang him, rook, he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse. By St George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal; the day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentlemost peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this man and a soldier, I ne'er changed words with his hay: he was born for the manger, pannier, or packlike. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but saddle! He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs !-a good commodity for some smith to make hob-nails of. manhood still, where he comes: he brags he will gi' Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his me the bastinado, as I hear. that word, trow? Bob. How? he the bastinado? How came he by Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I term'd it so for my more grace. Bob. That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word but when? when said he so? Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say; a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so. now, Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an 'twere my case I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado! A most proper and sufficient dependance, warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither; you shall kill him with at pleasure; the first stoccata, if shall chartel him; I'll show you a trick or two, you you will, by this air. Mat. Indeed; you have absolute knowledge i' the mystery, I have heard, sir. Bob. Of whom?-of whom ha' you heard it, I beseech you? Mat. Troth I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare, and un-in-one-breath-utter-able Bob. Well-penn'd! I would fain see all the poets here are a number of fine speeches in Bob. By heav'n, no not I; no skill i' the earth; some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so: I have profest it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bed-staff here quickly: lend us another bed-staff: the woman does not understand the words of action. Look you, sir, exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus; (give it the gentleman, and leave us ;) so, sir. Come on. O twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentleman-like guard; so, indifferent: hollow your body more, sir, thus; now, stand fast o' your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time. O, you disorder your point most irregularly! Mat. How is the bearing of it now, sir? Bob. O, out of measure ill!-a well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure. Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me? Bob. Why, thus, sir, (make a thrust at me); come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body; the best practis'd gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it! Mat. But one venue, sir. Bob. Venue! fie; most gross denomination as ever I heard. O, the stoccata, while you live, sir, note that; come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted-some tavern or so and have a bit; I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction, and then I will teach you your trick; you shall kill him with it at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any enemy's point i' the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this hand; you should, by the same rule, control his bullet, in a line, except it were hail shot, and spread. What money ha' you about you, Master Matthew? Mat. Faith, I ha' not past a two shillings, or so. Bo. 'Tis somewhat with the least; but come; we will have a bunch of radish, and salt to taste our wine, and a pipe of tobacco, to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Well-bred : perhaps we shall meet the Coridon his brother there, and put him to the question. Every Man in his Humour. [Bobadil's Plan for Saving the Expense of an Army.] Bob. I will tell you, sir, by the way of private, and under seal, I am a gentleman, and live here obscure, and to myself; but were I known to her majesty and the lords (observe me), I would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay, three parts of her yearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you? E. Kno. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive. Bob. Why thus, sir. I would select nineteen more, to myself, throughout the land; gentlemen they should be of good spirit, strong and able constitution; I would choose them by an instinct, a character that I have: and I would teach these nineteen the special rules, as your punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbroccato, your passado, your montanto, till they could all play very near, or altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty thousand strong, we twenty would come into the field the tenth of March, or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; they could not in their honour refuse us; well, we would kill them: challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them too; and thus would we kill every man his twenty a-day, that's twenty score: twenty score, that's two Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive, [The Alchemist.] Ibid. MAMMON. SURLY, his Friend. The scene, SUBTLE'S HO ise. Mam. Come on, sir. Now you set your foot ou shore In novo orbe. Here's the rich Peru: And there within, sir, are the golden mines, [FACE answers from within. Sir, he'll come to you by and by. Mam. That's his fire-drake, |