Cal. One kiss on these cold lips, my last!—

(kisses ITн.)-crack, crack—

Argos now 's Sparta's king. Command the voices Which wait at th' altar, now to sing the song

I fitted for my end.

Near. Sirs, the song!

Cho.

DIRGE.

Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights and

ease,

Can but please

[The] outward senses, when the mind
Is [or] untroubled,3 or by peace refined.

First voice. Crowns may flourish and decay,
Beauties shine, but fade away.

Second.

Youth may revel, yet it must
Lie down in a bed of dust.

This fine dirge has sustained some injury from the press. The old copy shews that a word has dropt from the commencement of the third verse, and there is an evident confusion in that which follows it. I can only reduce it to some tolerable meaning by reading or before untroubled, instead of not. There are few situations on the stage, so dramatically striking as this, or wrought up with such heart-rending pathos; but it is purchased at the expense of nature and probability, which are wantonly violated in the preparatory scene. No audience of the present day would support a sight so dreadfully fantastic, as the continuance of the Revels, amidst such awful intelligence as reaches Calantha in quick succession. Those of the poet's age, however, had firmer nerves,and they needed them: the caterers for their amusements were mighty in their profession, and cared little how highly the passions of the spectators were wound up by the tremendous exhibitions, to which they accustomed them, as they had ever some powerful stroke of nature or of art at command, to compose or justify them.

Third.

Cho.

Earthly honours flow and waste,
Time alone doth change and last.
Sorrows mingled with contents, prepare
Rest for care;

Love only reigns in death; though art
Can find no comfort for a BROKEN
HEART.

Arm. Look to the queen !

Bass. Her heart is broke" indeed.

Oh, royal maid, 'would thou hadst mist this part!
Yet 'twas a brave one. I must weep to see
Her smile in death.

Arm. Wise Tecnicus! thus said he:

When youth is ripe, and age from time doth part,
The lifeless Trunk shall wed the Broken Heart.
'Tis here fulfill'd.

Near. I am your king.

All. Long live

Nearchus, king of Sparta!

Near. Her last will

Shall never be digress'd from; wait in order
Upon these faithful lovers, as becomes us.-
The counsels of the gods are never known,
Till men can call the effects of them their own.

[Exeunt.

BB

EPILOGUE.

WHERE noble judgments and clear eyes are fix'd
To grace endeavour, there sits truth, not mix'd
With ignorance; those censures may command

Belief, which talk not, till they understand.
Let some say, This was flat; some, Here the scene
Fell from its height; another, That the mean
Was ill observ'd, in such a growing passion,
As it transcended either state or fashion.
Some few may cry, 'Twas pretty well, or so,
But — and there shrug in silence: yet we know
Our writer's aim was, in the whole, addrest
Well to deserve of ALL, but please the BEST;
Which granted, by th' allowance of this strain,
The BROKEN HEART may be pieced up again.

LOVE'S SACRIFICE.

LOVE'S SACRIFICE.

I CANNOT ascertain when this Tragedy was first given to the stage; but it was printed in the same year as the Broken Heart. The old title is "Love's Sacrifice. A tragedie, received generally well, acted by the Queene's Majestie's servants, at the Phoenix in Drury-Lane. London: Printed by J. B. for Hugh Beeston, dwelling next the Castle in Cornhill. 1633." 4to. It has neither Prologue nor Epilogue.