Whose indignation commonly is stamp'd
Under the hinder quarter of a man,
Which is a place very unfit for honour;
The world will confess so much :-

Then what disgrace, I pray, does that part suffer,
Where honour never comes?

[The character of this wit is very like Butler's in his "Hudibras."]

I would fain know that.

This being well enforc'd and urg'd may have the power

To move most gallants to take kicks in time,
And spurn out the duellos out o' th' kingdom;
For they that stand upon their honour most,
When they conceive there is no honour lost,
As by a table that I have invented

For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly,
Which shows the vanity of all blows at large,
And with what ease they may be took on all sides,
Numbering twice over the letters "Patience,"
From P A to C E-I doubt not but in small time
To see a dissolution of all bloodshed

If the "reform'd kick" do but once get up :-
For, what a lamentable folly 'tis,

If we observe 't, for every little justle,

Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump,

In our meek computation, we must fight, forsooth; yes!

If I kill, I'm hanged; if I be killed myself,

I die for't also; is not this trim wisdom?

Now for the con. [per contra.] A man may be well beaten,
Yet pass away his four score years smooth after:

I had a father did it; and, to my power,

I will not be behind him.

Cham. I have been to seek you.

Lap. Let me know your lodging, Sir:

I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure, Sir.
Cham. I'm made the fittest man for thy society!

I'll live and die with thee: come, show me a chamber.

There is no house but thine, but only thine,

That's fit to cover me: I have took a blow, sirrah.

Lap. I would you had, indeed! Why, you may see, Sir,

You'll all come to't in time, when my book's out.

Cham. Since I did see thee last I have took a blow!

Lap. Pooh, Sir, that's nothing! I ha' took forty since.
Cham. What! and I charg'd thee thou shouldst not?
Lap.
Aye, Sir,

You might charge your pleasure ;

But they would give it me, whether I would or no.
Cham.
Oh! I walk
Without my peace; I have no companion now.
Pr'ythee resolve me (for I cannot ask

A man more beaten to experience

Than thou art in this kind) what manner of blow
Is held the most disgraceful or distasteful?
For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt,
Not by the shame they do thee: yet, having felt
Abuses of all kinds, thou mayst deliver,

Though it be by chance, the most injurious one.

Lap. You put me to't, Sir; but to tell you truth,

They're all as one with me ;-little exception.

Cham. That little may be much; let's have it from you.

Lap. With all the speed I may. First, then, and foremost,

I hold so reverently of the bastinado, Sir,

That if it were the dearest friend i' th' world,

I'd put it into his hand.

Cham. Go to! I'll pass that, then.

Lap. You're the more happy, Sir;

Would I were past it, too; but being accustomed to't

It is the better carried.

Cham. Will you forward?

Lap. Then, there's your souse, your wherrit, and your dowst;
Tugs on the hair, your bob o' th' lips, a whelp on't!

I ne'er could find much difference. Now your thump,
A thing deriv'd first from your hemp-beaters,
Takes a man's wind away most spitefully;

There's nothing that destroys a cholic like it,
For it leaves no wind i' the body.

"The Beggars' Bush" is a most pleasant and lively play, invested with a fresh, open-air enjoyment. The humour in it is mainly derived from the free-and-easy life and manners and more than easy morality of the beggars; who are, in other words, nothing less than a band of thieves, amongst whom the serious characters of the play take refuge in disguise during their temporary adversity. From the time of Robin Hood, Earl of Huntingdon, down to the era of Charles the Second's reign, the profession of highway robbery was considered in anything but a disreputable light-rather, indeed, a romantic accomplishment -no worse than privateering, or even smuggling; and the calling was pursued by men of family out at elbows in their circumstances; also by the younger sons of the nobility, when there were no wars toward to replenish their purses. Earle, the Bishop of Salisbury who was mentioned in the commencement of this essay as an acquaintance of our poets, in his entertaining little book, entitled "Microcosmography," in the character of a "Younger Brother," says:-"When

there are no foreign wars to engage his time, he commonly takes to the road." So, in this play of Beaumont and Fletcher's, the king of the beggars is father to Florez (the hero), a rich merchant of Bruges ; and one of the fraternity is designated as "Lord Costin," disguised as a beggar. It is interesting to note in this drama the source whence Walter Scott evidently drew the precise cant terms which he has placed in the mouths of his gipsy rogues and vagrants in the novel of "Guy Mannering."

There is one situation in "The Beggars' Bush" that is extremely pretty, and conceived in a graceful spirit. It is where Florez, the merchant, is forbidden to marry by the man to whom he is under infinite obligation, and bound by a vow to obey in whatever he may deem fit to enjoin him. Florez in vain pleads his own impatient love, the prepared nuptials, and the surpassing merit of his expected bride; when, finding his former benefactor still inflexible, he sends for the lady, secure that the sight of her perfections will subdue the tyrannical patron from persevering in his unreasonable and cruel decree. Her innocent unconsciousness, the agitation of her lover, and the stern unyieldingness of the old man, form a beautifully contrasted picture, as well as an excellent dramatic situation. This is one of the most graceful scenes in the play; which, however, is merely referred to, because it does not range within my plan of citing the "comic" productions of our writers.

"The Beggars' Bush" was revived some forty years ago at Drury Lane, under the title of "The Merchant of Bruges," for the purpose of introducing the elder Kean in the part of Florez; who personated the character with that fine eye to the poetry of his art in which, within my experience, he has never been equalled.

The principal character in the underplot of "The Humorous Lieutenant" gave that play its name; and the whimsical fashion in which his story is conceived, and carried out in the scenes where he figures, seems to have rendered the play a popular one in our authors' time. The idea, no doubt, is irresistibly droll-that of a man whose ill-health draws him to the wars; who is a perfect dare-devil in fight, from a sheer desire to rid himself of physical pain; and who, with edifying rashness, risks his life from pure conviction of the worthlessness of his own sickly carcase. His health is restored; and, with his new relish for life, he suddenly loses all appetite for fighting. He says:

"Lord, what ail I, that I have no mind to fight now?

I find my constitution mightily alter'd,

Since I came home :-I hate all noises, too,

Especially the noise of drums. I am now as well
As any living man; why not as valiant?

To fight now is a kind of vomit to me;

It goes against my stomach."

His brother soldiers and his commanders, who have all heretofore gloated on his courage, are unwilling to lose so brave an aid; and, finding all their remonstrances futile, contrive a plot, by which, in persuading him that he is again dangerously ill, they induce him once more to resume his old recklessness in the field. The scene where they hoax him, bring him physicians, and talk him out of his senses that he is ill and dying, till they rouse his dormant valour, is sufficiently quaint and original in its character of humour; and, indeed, it is the most amusing in the play. The scene is—

[The Camp of Demetrius-Enter Leontius, and the two Gentlemen.]
Leon. We must keep a round and a strong watch to-night;
The Prince will not charge the enemy till the morning.

But, for the trick I told you for this rascal,

This rogue, that health and strong heart make a coward

1 Gent. Ay, if it take.

Leon. Ne'er fear it; the Prince has it,

And if he let it fall, I must not know it;
He will suspect me presently. But you two
May help the plough.

2 Gent. That he is sick again?

Leon. Extremely sick; his disease grown incurable;
Never yet found, nor touch'd at.

2 Gent. Well, we have it; and here he comes.
Leon. The Prince has been upon him :-

What a flatten face he has now! It takes, believe it.
How like an ass he looks!

Lieut. And now 'tis even too true; I feel a pricking,
A pricking, a strange pricking. How it tingles!
And as it were a stitch too. The Prince told me,

And every one cried out I was a dead man :

I had thought I had been as well—

This man was never cur'd; I see it too plain now.
How do you feel yourself? You look not perfect.
How dull his eye hangs!

I Gent. That may be discontent.

2 Gent. Believe me, friend, I would not suffer now

The tithe of those pains this man feels.-Mark his forehead!
What a cloud of cold dew hangs upon it!

Lieut. I have it, again I have it; how it grows upon me! A miserable man I am!

Leon. [Aside.] Ha, ha, ha! a miserable man thou shalt be. This is the tamest trout I ever tickled.

[Enter two Physicians.]

I Phy. This way he went.

2 Phy.

Pray heaven we find him living.

He's a brave fellow; 'tis pity he should perish thus.

1 Phy. A strong-hearted man, and of a notable sufferance.

Lieut. Oh, oh!

1 Gent. How now? How is it, man?

Lieut. Oh, gentlemen, never so full of pain

Never so full of pain, gentlemen.

I Phy. He's here.-How do you, Sir?

2 Phy. Be of good comfort, soldier: the Prince has sent us to you. Lieut. Do you think I may live ?

2 Phy. He alters hourly, strangely. I Phy. Yes you may live ;-But

1 Gent. Do not discourage him.

I Phy. He must be told the truth; 'tis now too late to trifle.

[Enter Demetrius and Gentlemen.]

Dem. How now, gentlemen ?

And one, I think, your Grace will grieve to part with. But every living

We are but spans, and candles' ends.

Dem. Thou art heart-whole yet, I see.-He alters strangely,

And that apace too; I saw it this morning in him,

When he, poor man, I dare swear—

Lieut. No, believe it, Sir; I never felt it.

Dem. Here lies the pain now ;-how he is swell'd!