Syl. Come, wench, wilt thou hear wisdom? Clar. Yes, from you, sir. [They converse aside. Bert. If forcing this sweet favour from your lips, [Kisses her. Fair madam, argue me of too much boldness, When you are pleased to understand I take A parting kiss, if not excuse, at least "Twill qualify the offence.

Cam. A parting kiss, sir!

What nation, envious of the happiness
Which Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence,
Can buy you from her? or what climate yield
Pleasures transcending those which you enjoy

here,

Being both beloved and honour'd; the north-star
And guider of all hearts; and, to sum up
Your full accompt of happiness in a word,
The brother of the king?

Bert. Do you, alone,

And with an unexampled cruelty,

Enforce my absence, and deprive me of

Those blessings which you, with a polish'd phrase, Seem to insinuate that I do possess,

And yet tax me as being guilty of

My wilful exile? What are titles to me,
Or popular suffrage, or my nearness to
The king in blood, or fruitful Sicily,

Though it confess'd no sovereign but myself,
When you, that are the essence of my being,
The anchor of my hopes, the real substance
Of my felicity, in your disdain

Turn all to fading and deceiving shadows?
Cam. You tax me without cause.

Bert. You must confess it.

But answer love with love, and seal the con

tract

In the uniting of our souls, how gladly

(Though now I were in action, and assured,
Following my fortune, that plumed Victory
Would make her glorious stand upon my tent)
Would I put off my armour, in my heat
Of conquest, and, like Antony, pursue
My Cleopatra! Will you yet look on me
With an eye of favour?

Cam. Truth bear witness for me,

That, in the judgment of my soul, you are
A man so absolute, and circular

In all those wish'd-for rarities that
may take
A virgin captive, that, though at this instant
All scepter'd monarchs of our western world
Were rivals with you, and Camiola worthy
Of such a competition, you alone
Should wear the garland,

Bert. If so, what diverts

Your favour from me?

Cam. No mulet in yourself,

Or in your person, mind, or fortune.

Bert. What then?

Cam. The consciousness of mine own wants: alas! sir,

We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,3

alas, sir!

We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,

Can ne'er meet in one centre.] This seems badly expressed. Parallels are the only lines that cannot meet in a center; for all lines divided with any angle towards each other, must meet somewhere, if continued both ways. CoXETER.

By lines divided, Massinger does not mean, as the editor supposes, lines inclined to each other in any angle; but the divided parts of the same right line, which never can meet in one centre. M. MASON.

If Mr. M. Mason understands his own meaning it is well; that of his author, I apprehend, he has not altogether made out. Our old writers were not, generally speaking, very expert mathematicians, and therefore frequently confounded the proper

Can ne'er meet in one centre. Your birth, sir,
Without addition, were an ample dowry
For one of fairer fortunes; and this shape,
Were you ignoble, far above all value:
To this so clear a mind, so furnish'd with
Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven,
That though you were Thersites in your fea-

tures,

Of no descent, and Irus in your fortunes,
Ulysses-like you'd force all eyes and ears
To love, but seen; and, when heard, wonder at
Your matchless story: but all these bound up
Together in one volume!-give me leave,

ties of lines and figures. Not only Massinger, but many others who had good means of information, use parallels (as it seems to me) for radii. Dr. Sacheverell was accused by the wits, or rather whigs, of his day, for speaking, in his famous University Sermon, of parallel lines that met in a centre. The charge appears to be just, for, though he changed the expression when the sermon was committed to the press, he retained his conviction of its propriety: "They," (temptations,) he says, "are the centre in which all our passions terminate and join, though never so much repugnant to each other,"

In the Proëme to Herbert's Travels, which were printed not long after the Maid of Honour, a similar expression is found: "Great Britaine-containes the summe and abridge of all sorts of excellencies, met here like parallels in their proper centre."

In the life of Dr. H. More (1710) there is a letter to a correspondent who had sent him a pious treatise, in which the same expression occurs, and is thus noticed by the doctor: "There is but one passage that I remember, which will afford them (the profane and atheistical rout of the age) a disingenuous satisfaction; which is in p. 480, where you say that straight lines drawn from the center run parallel together. To a candid reader your intended sense can be no other than that they run #ap anλas, that is, by one another; which they may do, though they do not run all along equidistantly one by another, which is the mathematical sense of the word parallel." See Gent. Mag. May, 1782. The good doctor is, I think, the best critick on the subject, that has yet appeared, and sufficiently explains Massinger.

With admiration to look upon them;

But not presume, in my own flattering hopes,
I may or can enjoy them.

Bert. How you ruin

What you would seem to build up! I know no Disparity between us; you're an heir

Sprung from a noble family; fair, rich, young, And every way my equal.

Cam. Sir, excuse me;

One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren:'-tissue and frieze
In the same garment, monstrous! But suppose
That what's in you excessive were diminish'd,
And my desert supplied, the stronger bar,
Religion, stops our entrance: you are, sir,
A knight of Malta, by your order bound
To a single life; you cannot marry me;
And, I assure myself, you are too noble

7 Cam. Sir, excuse me ;

One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses

The eagle and the wren:-] The modern editors read One airy with proportion &c. Upon which Coxeter observes, that "the passage is somewhat difficult." It means, however, he adds, "that one who is puffed up with an high opinion of his birth, (i. e. airy with proportion,) will never stoop so low as Bertoldo must, to marry Camiola."! To this Mr. M. Mason subjoins, that for discloses we should read encloses, and that the meaning is, "the airy that is fit for an eagle cannot be equally fit for a wren!" Poor Coxeter's blunder is sufficiently ridiculous: but did not Mr. M. Mason, who tells us, in a note, of the absolute necessity of consulting and comparing contemporary authors, recollect those beautiful lines of Shakspeare?

66 Anon, as patient as the female dove,

"Ere that her golden couplets are disclosed,
"His silence will sit drooping."

Hamlet.

Disclose, in short, is constantly used by our old writers for hatch, as aerie is, for the nest of any bird of prey: and the meaning of this somewhat difficult passage" nothing more, than that eagles and wrens are too disproportionate in bulk to be hatched in the same nest.

To seek me, though my frailty should consent, In a base path.

Bert. A dispensation, lady,

Will easily absolve me.

Cam. O take heed, sir!

When what is vow'd to heaven is dispensed with, To serve our ends on earth, a curse must follow, And not a blessing.

Bert. Is there no hope left me?

Cam. Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to
Impossibility. True love should walk
On equal feet; in us it does not, sir:
But rest assured, excepting this, I shall be
Devoted to your service.

Bert. And this is

your

Determinate sentence?

Cam. Not to be revoked.

Bert. Farewell then, fairest cruel! all thoughts

in me

Of women perish. Let the glorious light
Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper,"
That only lends me light to see my folly:
Honour, be thou my ever-living mistress,
And fond affection, as thy bond-slave, serve thee!
[Exit.
Cam. How soon my sun is set, he being absent,
Never to rise again! What a fierce battle

8

Let the glorious light

Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper,] So the quarto: for which fine line the modern editors give us,

Let the glorious light

Of noble war extinguish Love's divine taper! It seems strange that no want of harmony in the metre, no defect of sense in the expression, could ever rouse them into a suspicion of their inaccuracy. I have not, however, pointed out every errour to the reader: in what has already past of this act, the old reading has been silently restored in numerous instances,