ments are without decorum.' This criticism refers specially to the Duchess of Malfy, but indicates generally that peculiar quality of Webster's genius which chiefly distinguishes him from his contemporaries.

The earliest notice of Webster occurs in 1602. He is said to have been clerk of St. Andrew's, Holborn, and a member of the Merchants Tailors' Company; but Mr. Dyce could not discover any trace of his name, although he searched the registers of the church, and the MSS. belonging to the Parish Clerk's Hall. In tracing, in his collected edition of Webster's works, the order of his productions, and examining every collateral question of authorship likely to throw any light upon his identity, Mr. Dyce has supplied all the information that can be obtained respecting him. It relates almost exclusively to his writings. His personal history is buried in obscurity.]

THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, VITTORIA COROMBONA. 1612.

A DIRGE.

CALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren,

Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole

The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,

To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm;
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll* dig them up again.

* 'I never saw anything like this Dirge, except the Ditty which reminds Ferdinand of his drowned Father in the Tempest. As that is of the water, watery; so this is of the earth, earthy. Both have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to resolve itself into the elements which it contemplates.'-LAMB.

THE DUCHESS OF MALFY. 1623.

THE MADMAN'S SONG.

LET us howl some heavy note,

O, LET us how domed howl,

Sounding, as from the threatning throat
Of beasts and fatal fowl!

As ravens, screech-owls, bulls and bears,
We'll bell, and bawl our parts,

"Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears,
And corrosived your hearts.

At last, whenas our quire wants breath,
Our bodies being blessed,

We'll sing, like swans, will welcome death,
And die in love and rest.

THE PREPARATION FOR EXECUTION.

ARK, now everything is still,

HA

The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill,

Call upon our dame aloud,

And bid her quickly don her shroud!
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clay's now competent:
A long war disturbed your mind;
Here your perfect peace is signed.

Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?
Since their conception, their birth weeping,

Their life a general mist of error,

Their death, a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,
And (the foul fiend more to check,)
A crucifix let bless your neck:
'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day;
End your groan, and come away.

JOHN WEBSTER AND WILLIAM ROWLEY.

THE THRACIAN WONDER. 1661.

WOMAN'S LOVE.

LOVE is a law, a discord of such force,

That 'twixt our sense and reason makes divorce; Love's a desire, that to obtain betime,

We lose an age of years plucked from our prime ;
Love is a thing to which we soon consent,
As soon refuse, but sooner far repent.

Then what must women be, that are the cause
That love hath life? that lovers feel such laws?
They're like the winds upon Lepanthæ's shore,
That still are changing: O, then love no more!
A woman's love is like that Syrian flower,
That buds, and spreads, and withers in an hour.

I

LOVE MUST HAVE LOVE.

CARE not for these idle toys,

That must be wooed and prayed to
Come, sweet love, let's use the joys
That men and women used to do.

The first man had a woman
Created for his use you know;
Then never seek so close to keep
A jewel of a price so low.

Delay in love's a lingering pain,
That never can be cured;
Unless that love have love again,
'Tis not to be endured.

THE PURSUIT OF LOVE.

ART thou gone in haste?

I'll not forsake thee;
Runnest thou ne'er so fast,
I'll overtake thee:

Over the dales, over the downs,
Through the green meadows,
From the fields through the towns,
To the dim shadows.

All along the plain,

To the low fountains,

Up and down again

From the high mountains;
Echo then shall again
Tell her I follow,

And the floods to the woods,

[OW does jolly Janus greet your merriment; For since the world's creation,

I never changed my fashion;

'Tis good enough to fence the cold:

My hatchet serves to cut my firing yearly,

My bowl preserves the juice of grape and barley:

Fire, wine, and strong beer, make me live so long here

To give the merry new year a welcome in.

All the potent powers of plenty wait upon
You that intend to be frolic to-day:

To Bacchus I commend ye, and Ceres eke attend ye,
To keep encroaching cares away.

That Boreas' blasts may never blow to harm you; Nor Hyems' frost, but give you cause to warm you: Old father Janevere drinks a health to all here,

To give the merry new year a welcome in.

THE DEPARTURE OF JANUARY.

SINCE you desire my absence;
I will depart this green;
Though loath to leave the presence
Of such a lovely queen;
Whose beauty, like the sun,
Melts all my frost away;
And now, instead of winter,
Behold a youthful May.

HOMAGE TO LOVE.

LOVE'S a lovely lad

His bringing-up is beauty;
Who loves him not is mad,
For I must pay him duty;
Now I'm sad.

Hail to those sweet eyes,

That shine celestial wonder; From thence do flames arise, Burn my poor heart asunder. Now it fries.

Cupid sets a crown

Upon those lovely tresses;
O, spoil not with a frown

What he so sweetly dresses!
I'll sit down.

HEIGH, HEIGHO!

WHITHER shall I go,

To escape your folly?

For now there's love I know,

Or else 'tis melancholy :

Heigh, heigho!