Ger. Now this calumny

Arriving first unto my father's ears,
His easy nature was induc'd to think
That these things might perhaps be possible :
I answer'd him, as I would do to heaven,
And clear'd myself in his suspicious thoughts
As truly, as the high all-knowing Judge

Shall of these stains acquit me; which are merely
Aspersions and untruths. The good old man
Possess'd with my sincerity, and yet careful
Of your renown, her honour, and my fame,
To stop the worst that scandal could inflict,
And to prevent false rumours, charges me,
The cause remov'd, to take away the effect,—
Which only could be, to forbear your house--
And this upon his blessing. You hear all.
Win. And I of all acquit you: this your absence,
With which my love most cavill'd, orators

In your behalf. Had such things pass'd betwixt

you,

Not threats nor chidings could have driven you

hence;

It pleads in your behalf, and speaks in her's,
And arms me with a double confidence
Both of your friendship and her loyalty.
I am happy in you both, and only doubtful
Which of you two doth most impart my love.
You shall not hence to-night.

Ger. Pray, pardon, sir.

Win. You are in your lodging.

Ger. But my father's charge.

Win. My conjuration shall dispense with that;
You may be up as early as you please,

But hence to-night you shall not.

Ger. You are powerful.

Traveller's Stories.

Sir, my husband

Hath took much pleasure in your strange discourse
About Jerusalem and the Holy Land;
How the new city differs from the old,
What ruins of the Temple yet remain,
And whether Sion, and those hills about,
With these adjacent towns and villages,
Keep that proportioned distance as we read;
And then in Rome, of that great Pyramis
Reared in the front, on four lions mounted;
How many of those idol temples stand,
First dedicated to their heathen gods,
Which ruin'd, which to better use repair'd,
Of their Pantheon, and their Capitol,

What structures are demolish'd, what remain.

And what more pleasure to an old man's ear, That never drew save his own country's air, Than hear such things related?

Shipwreck by Drink.

This gentleman and I

Pass'd but just now by your next neighbour's house,
Where, as they say, dwells one young Lionel,
An unthrift youth, his father now at sea.

There this night

Was a great feast.

In the height of their carousing, all their brains Warm'd with the heat of wine, discourse was offer'd

Of ships and storms at sea; when suddenly,
Out of his giddy wildness, one conceives
The room wherein they quaff'd to be a pinnace,
Moving and floating, and the confused noise
To be the murmuring winds, gusts, mariners;
That their unsteadfast footing did proceed

From rocking of the vessel; this conceiv'd,
Each one begins to apprehend the danger,
And to look out for safety. Fly, saith one,
Up to the main top, and discover; he
Climbs by the bed-post to the tester there,
Reports a turbulent sea and tempests towards,
And wills them, if they 'll save their ship and lives,
To cast their lading overboard. At this

All fall to work, and hoist into the street,
As to the sea, what next came to their hand,
Stools, tables, tressels, trenchers, bedsteads, cups,
Pots, plate, and glasses; here a fellow whistles,
They take him for the boatswain ;

struggling

one lies

Upon the floor, as if he swam for life;
A third takes the base-viol for the cock-boat,
Sits in the belly on 't, labours, and rows,

His oar, the stick with which the fiddler play'd;
A fourth bestrides his fellow, thinking to scape
As did Arion on the dolphin's back,

Still fumbling on a gittern. The rude multitude, Watching without, and gaping for the spoil

Cast from the windows, went by the ears about it; The constable is call'd to atone the broil,

Which done, and hearing such a noise within Of eminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them

In this confusion. They adore his staff,

And think it Neptune's trident, and that he
Comes with his Tritons (so they call'd his watch)
To calm the tempest and appease the waves;
And at this point we left them.

[This piece of pleasant exaggeration (which for its life and humour might have been told, or acted, by Petruchio himself) give rise to the title of Cowley's Latin Play, Naufragium Joculare, and furnished the idea of the best scene in it.-Heywood's preface to this play is interesting, as it shows the heroic indifference about

posterity, which some of these great writers seem to have felt. There is a magnanimity in authorship as in everything else.

"If, reader, thou hast of this play been an auditor, there is less apology to be used by entreating thy patience. This tragi-comedy (being one reserved amongst 220 in which I had either an entire hand or at the least a main finger) coming accidentally to the press, and I having intelligence thereof, thought it not fit that it should pass as filius populi, a bastard without a father to acknowledge it: true it is that my plays are not exposed to the world in volumes, to bear the title of works (as others 1): one reason is, that many of them by shifting and change of companies have been negligently lost. Others of them are still retained in the hands of some actors, who think it against their peculiar profit to have them come in print, and a third that it never was any great ambition in me to be in this kind voluminously read. All that I have further to say at this time is only this: censure I entreat as favourably as it is exposed to thy view freely.

"Ever studious of thy pleasure and profit,

"TH. HEYWOOD."

Of the 220 pieces which he here speaks of having been concerned in, only 25, as enumerated by Dodsley, have come down to us, for the reasons assigned in the preface. The rest have perished, exposed to the casualties of a theatre. Heywood's ambition seems to have been confined to the pleasure of hearing the players speak his lines while he lived. It does not appear that he ever contemplated the possibility of being read by afterages. What a slender pittance of fame was motive sufficient to the production of such plays as the English Traveller, the Challenge for Beauty, and the Woman Kill'd with Kindness! Posterity is bound to take care that a writer loses nothing by such a noble modesty.]

1 He seems to glance at Ben Jonson,

A CHALLENGE FOR BEAUTY.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

PETROCELLA, a fair Spanish lady, loves MONTFERRERS, an English seacaptain, who is captive to VALLADAURA, a noble Spaniard.-VALLADAURA loves the lady; and employs MONTFERRERS to be the messenger of his love to her.

Pet. What art thou in thy country?

Mont. There, a man.

Pet. What here?

Mont. No better than you see, a slave.

Pet. Whose ?

Mont. His that hath redeem'd me.

Pet. Valladaura's ?

Mont. Yes, I proclaim 't; I that was once mine own, Am now become his creature.

Pet. I perceive,

Your coming is to make me think you noble,
Would you persuade me deem your friend a god?
For only such make men. Are you a gentleman?
Mont. Not here, for I am all dejectedness,
Captive to fortune, and a slave to want;

I cannot call these clothes I wear mine own,
I do not eat but at another's cost,

This air I breathe is borrowed; ne'er was man
So poor and abject. I have not so much
In all this universe, as a thing to leave,
Or a country I can freely boast is mine.
My essence and my being is another's.
What should I say? I am not anything,
And I possess as little.

Pet. Tell me that?

Come, come, I know you to be no such man.
You are a soldier, valiant, and renown'd,