Thy poems (sacred spring!) did from thee flow, Than such as only could deserve thy dress: But when thy tragic muse would please to rise How didst thou sway the theatre! make us feel The players' wounds were true, and their swords, steel! When the spectators ran to save the blow!* At's fingers ends; no frenzy, fever, sickness, 2 How often did I know When the spectators ran to save the blow !] This alludes to those spectators who were accommodated with chairs on the stage. The encomiast may refer to some contemporary anecdote, like that of Mademoi Frozen with grief we could not stir away T. PALMER, of Ch. Ch. Oxon. Upon the unparalleled Plays written by those renowned Twins of Poetry, BEAUMONT and FLETCher. 4 WHAT'S here? another library of praise, * A happy chemistry! blest viper! Joy! That through thy mother's bowels gnaw'st thy way! In spite of ignorance, the architect Of occidental poesy; and turn Gods, to recal Wit's ashes from their urn. selle Dumesnil, who, performing the character of Cleopatra in a high strain of passion, on uttering a threat against the gods, was struck violently on the neck by an old officer, who accompanied the blow with execrations. At the conclusion of the tragedy she thanked him most warmly, declaring that she never had received equally valuable applause. 3 Wood mentions five authors of this name, so that it is uncertain to which of them these verses should be attributed. 4 Another library of praise.] This alludes to the numerous commendatory copies of verses on Tom Coryat's Crudities, which swelled into an entire volume. This is touched at in the copy of verses by Richard Brome: "For the witty copies took, Of his encomiums made themselves a book.” Theobald. Like huge Colosses, they've together knit 5 The tale of Atlas (though of truth it miss) "Tis Poetry has power to civilize Men, worse than stones, more blockish than the trees. I cannot choose but think (now things so fall) That Wit is past its climacterical; And though the Muses have been dead and gone, 'Tis vain to praise; they're to themselves a glory, For he, that names but Fletcher, must needs be His fancy so transcendently aspires, He shews himself a wit, who but admires. Here are no volumes stuff'd with chevrel sense," The very anagrams of eloquence; Nor long long-winded sentences that be, Being rightly spell'd, but wit's stenography; Scenes that are quick and sprightly, in whose veins Does say, 'twas writ by a gemini of wit. How happy is our age! how blest our men! When such rare souls live themselves o'er again. they've together met Their shoulders to support a world of wit.] I should not find fault with met and wit being made rhimes here, (the poets of those times giving themselves such a licence) but that two persons meeting their shoulders is neither sense nor English! I am therefore persuaded the author wrote knit. So twice in the copy by Jasper Maine: "In fame, as well as writings, both so knit, And again, "Nor were you thus in works and poems knit," &c. Theobald. Chevrel sense.] Cheverel is soft pliable kid leather, and the word occurs in the same manner as in the text in several old plays. Mercutio, in Romeo and Juliet, says, "O, here's a wit of cheverel that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad." We err, that think a poet dies; for this Or power of fate: And thus the proverb hits, (That's so much cross'd) These men live by their wits. ALEXR. BROME." On the Death and Works of Mr Jon Fletcher. My name, so far from great, that 'tis not known, I'd have a state of wit convoked, which hath That, when the stock of the whole kingdom's spent 7 A poet of no mean powers, and one of the most strenuous and successful satirists upon the republicans of the time. He was born in 1620 and died 1666. Besides his poems, which principally consist of political songs, he wrote a comedy, entitled The Cunning Lovers. 8 So when, late, Essex died.] The Earl of Essex, who had been general for the parliament in the civil war against King Charles the First, died on the 14th of September, 1646, and the first folio of Beaumont and Fletcher's Works was published in 1647.-Theobald. Defaced statua and martyr'd book, So truly now Camden's Remains lie there. Thus princes' honours; but wit only gives Singly we now consult ourselves and fame, Borrow support and strength, and lend but show, Making our sorrow teem with elegy, Thou yet unwept, and yet unpraised might'st be. The scapes of Nature, passives being unfit; Which thy full breast did animate and inspire; But a small particle of thine to us! Of thine; which we admired when thou didst sit When it had plummets hung on to suppress Till, as that tree which scorns to be kept down, And but thy male wit, &c.] Mr Seward omits this and the nine following lines.-Ed. 1778. |