Here's that will do't. Stay but perfection's time,

And that's not five hours hence.

Duch. Can'st thou do this?

Hec. Can I?

Duch. I mean, so closely.

Hec. So closely do you mean too?

Duch. So artfully, so cunningly.

Hec. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities,
They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know,
Cum volui, ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes
In fontes rediere suos: concussaque sisto,
Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco: ventos abigoque vocoque.
Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;
Et silvas moveo, jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchres.
Te quoque luna traho.

Can you doubt me then, daughter?

That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk;
Whole earth's foundations bellow, and the spirits

Of the entomb'd to burst out from their marbles;

Nay, draw yon moon to my involv❜d designs?

Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad, and our great cat angry; for one spits French then, and th' other spits Latin.

Duch. I did not doubt you, mother.

Hec. No? what did you?

My power's so firm, it is not to be question'd.

Duch. Forgive what's past: and now I know th' offensive

ness

That vexes art, I'll shun th' occasion ever.

Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter.

It shall be conveyed in at howlet-time.

Take you no care. My spirits know their moments;
Raven or scritch-owl never fly by th' door,

But they call in (I thank 'em), and they lose not by 't.

I give 'em barley soak'd in infants' blood:

They shall have semina cum sanguine,

Their gorge cramm'd full, if they come once to our house: We are no niggard.

[Exit Duchess. Fire. They fare but too well when they come hither. They ate up as much t'other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding.

Hec. Give me some lizard's brain: quickly, Firestone!
Where's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o' th' sisters?
Fire. All at hand, forsooth.

Hec. Give me marmaritin; some bear-breech. When?
Fire. Here's bear-breech and lizard's brain, forsooth.
Hec. Into the vessel;

And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girl

I kill'd last midnight.

Fire. Whereabouts, sweet mother?

Hec. Hip; hip or flank. Where is the acopus?
Fire. You shall have acopus, forsooth.
Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.

A CHARM SONG,

(The Witches going about the Cauldron).

Black spirits, and white; red spirits, and gray;
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
Titty, Tiffin, keep it stiff in;

Firedrake, Puckey, make it lucky;

Liard, Robin, you must bob in.

Round, around, around, about, about;

All ill come running in; all good keep out! 1st Witch. Here's the blood of a bat.

1st Witch. The juice of toad; the oil of adder. 2d Witch. Those will make the yonker madder.

Hec.

Fire.

All.

Hec.

Put in there's all, and rid the stench.

Nay, here's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench.
Round, around, around, &c.

See, see enough: into the vessel with it.

There; 't hath the true perfection. I'm so light
At any mischief: there's no villainy

But is in tune, methinks.

Fire. A tune! 'Tis to the tune of damnation then. I warrant you that song hath a villainous burthen.

Hec.

Come, my sweet sisters; let the air strike our

tune,

Whilst we show reverence to yond peeping moon. [The Witches dance, and then exeunt."

I will conclude this account with Mr. Lamb's observations on the distinctive characters of these extraordinary and formidable personages, as they are described by Middleton or Shakespear.

"Though some resemblance may be traced between the charms in Macbeth and the incantations in this play, which is supposed to have preceded it, this coincidence will not detract much from the originality of Shakespear. His witches are distinguished from the witches of Middleton by essential differences. These are creatures to whom man or woman, plotting some dire mischief, might resort for occasional consul

tation. Those originate deeds of blood, and begin bad impulses to men. From the moment that their eyes first meet Macbeth's, he is spellbound. That meeting sways his destiny. He can never break the fascination. These Witches can hurt the body; those have power over the soul.-Hecate, in Middleton, has a son, a low buffoon the Hags of Shakespear have neither child of their own, nor seem to be descended from any parent. They are foul anomalies, of whom we know not whence they sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations. They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This is all we know of them.-Except Hecate, they have no names, which heightens their mysteriousness. The names, and some of the properties which Middleton has given to his Hags, excite smiles. The Weird Sisters are serious things. Their presence cannot consist with mirth. But in a lesser degree, the Witches of Middleton are fine creations. Their power too is, in some measure, over the mind. They "raise jars, jealousies, strifes, like a thick scurf o'er life."

LECTURE III.

ON

MARSTON, CHAPMAN, DECKAR, AND WEBSTER.

THE writers of whom I have already treated, may be said to have been "no mean men;" those of whom I have yet to speak, are certainly no whit inferior. Would that I could do them any thing like justice! It is not difficult to give at least their seeming due to great and wellknown names; for the sentiments of the reader meet the descriptions of the critic more than half way, and clothe what is perhaps vague and extravagant praise with a substantial form and distinct meaning. But in attempting to extol the merits of an obscure work of genius, our words are either lost in empty air, or are “blown stifling back" upon the mouth that utters them. The greater those merits are, and the truer the praise, the more suspicious and disproportionate does it almost necessarily appear; for it has no relation to any image previously existing in the public mind, and therefore looks like an imposition fabricated out of nothing. In this case, the