In Heaven's fair quire: where now he sings the praise Of Him that is the first and last of days Divinèst Spenser, heaven-bred, happy muse! Would any power into my brain infuse Thy worth, or all that poets had before, I could not praise till thou deserv'st no more. JAMES SHIRLEY. 1596-1667. [SHIRLEY was born in London about the year 1596, and lived through the Civil War and Commonwealth into the Restoration, dying in 1667. His copious dramatic activity began in 1625, in which year he produced the comedy entitled Love's Tricks. Before this, in 1618, he had published an imitation of Venus and Adonis under the title of Echo. His plays were produced in rapid succession up to 1641. In 1646 he published a volume of poems, chiefly erotic, and two small volumes of Masques, etc., in 1653 and 1659.] BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 1579-1625. [JOHN FLETCHER was born in December, 1579, at Rye in Sussex, where his father, who ultimately became Bishop of London, was minister. He was admitted pensioner at Benet College, Cambridge, in 1591; and little is known of his life between this date and the period of his connection with Beaumont. FRANCIS BEAUMONT was the son of Sir F. Beaumont, of Grace-Dieu in Leicestershire, and was born at that place, probably in 1585. He resided for a short time at Broadgates Hall (now Pembroke College), Oxford, and was entered of the Inner Temple in 1600. Not many years after this we may suppose the friendship between the two poets to have begun. "They lived together on the Bank side," in Southwark, not far from the Play-house" (the Globe), and wrote for the theatre. The most celebrated of their joint productions were produced probably between 1608 and 1611. But the common life which has been described by Aubrey, and is itself almost a poem (if partly a comic one), must have been disturbed in 1513, when Beaumont married. In the spring of 1616 he died. So far as is known, Fletcher remained single till his death, which took place in August, 1625.] FROM "THE MAID'S TRAGEDY." [By Beaumont and Fletcher.] LAY a garland on my hearse My love was false, but I was firm LINES ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER. [By Beaumont.] MORTALITY, behold and fear! Who now want strength to stir their hands; Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust They preach, "In greatness is no trust." Since the first man died for sin: Here the bones of birth have cried, "Though gods they were, as men they died": Deign, O fairest fair, to take them! For these black-eyed Dryope Hath oftentimes commanded me Hath deck'd their rising cheeks in red, These are of that luscious meat Will bring you more, more sweet and strong; Till when, humbly leave I take, II. THE RIVER GOD TO AMORET. I AM this fountain's god. Below And 'twixt two banks with osiers set, In the cool streams shalt thou lie, But, when thou wilt, come gliding by The Song. Do not fear to put thy feet Naked in the river sweet; Think not leach or newt or toad Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod; Nor let the water rising high, As thou wad'st in, make thee cry And not a wave shall trouble thee! III. THE SATYR. THOU divinest, fairest, brightest, Or steal from heaven old Orpheus' lute? FROM "THE NICE VALOUR." HENCE, all you vain delights, O sweetest melancholy! A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. [WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford on Avon, in April, 1564; there also he died, April 23d (old style), 1616. The following are the titles of his poems, with the dates of publication: Venus and Adonis, 1593; The Rape of Lucrece, 1594; The Passionate Pilgrim (a miscellany which includes only a few pieces by Shakespeare), 1599; The Phonix and the Turtle (printed with pieces on the same subject by other pocts of the time, at the end of Robert Chester's Love's Martyr, or Rosalin's Complaint), 1601; Sonnets, 1609; A Lover's Complaint (in the same volume with the Sonnets), 1609.] When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause; there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life; But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, - puzzles the will; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn a-wry, And lose the name of action. HAMLET'S ADDRESS TO HIS FATHER'S GHOST. ANGELS and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me: Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again! What may this mean, |