Let's treat it kindly, that it may Let's banish business, banish sorrow; THE GRASHOPPER. Happy insect, what can be Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing; Thee country hinds with gladness hear, Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire; Phœbus is himself thy sire. To thee, of all things upon earth, Life is no longer than thy mirth. Happy insect! happy thou, Dost neither age nor winter know. But when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and sung Thy fill, the flowery leaves among (Voluptuous and wise withal, Epicurean animal!) Satiated with thy summer feast, Thou retir'st to endless rest. To these might be added Acme and Septimius from Catullus, and the several translations and paraphrases scattered throughout his Essays, most of which possess equal and similar merit. Cowley's dramatic compositions remain to be considered. "Love's Riddle," a pastoral comedy, was written whilst he was at Westminster school, and is, as might be expected, but a green production; it is, however, above his years, aims at some discrimination of character, and is supported with more than juvenile equality of merit. "The Cutter of Coleman Strect" was originally written when, as Cowley says, he was very young, and was acted, under the title of The Guardian, before the prince, at Trinity College, in 1641, when he was only twenty-three, and was printed in 1650. "There being," as he says, "many things in it which he disliked, and finding himself, for some days, idle and alone in the country, he fell upon the changing of it almost wholly, as now it is." "It met (he continues) at the first representation with no favourable reception; and, I think, there was something of faction against it, by the early appearance of some men's disapprobation, before they had seen enough of it to build their dislike upon their judgments." Pepys, who was present at the representation (1661), describes it as a very good play, "with reflections much upon the latter times," and says nothing of its ill success; but Dryden, who was also present, tells us that the author "received the news of his ill success, not with so much firmness as might have been expected from so great a man." The Cutter of Coleman Street approaches nearer to farce than is consistent with the rules of legitimate comedy; it however exhibits a good, although exaggerated, picture of the two great classes of the nation at that time, and some of the scenes are of a very humorous cast. The serious parts are a very successful imitation of the manner of our elder dramatists, and show that Cowley, when he chose, could modulate his verses to rhythm. A clamour was unjustly raised against this play, which was said to have been intended for a satire against the king's party. Neither the royalists nor republicans would, we imagine, be flattered by the portraits of them which it contains. The main plot is as follows:-Truman, a testy old gentleman, extorts from his son an oath that he will never more see or hear a lady he is engaged to marry, called Lucia, the niece of Jolly (a cavalier, whose character answers to his name). The ground of old Truman's disapprobation of the match is, that Jolly refuses his consent, and, if Lucia marries without it, she forfeits to him the greater portion of her fortune. That young Truman may not violate his oath, Lucia never meets him without a veil, and never communicates with him except by writing. This evasion satisfies the consciences of the lovers, and gives the author an opportunity of making an entanglement out of it. They resolve to try to obtain Jolly's consent to their marriage by a plot, and they engage the cavalier's doctor to give him some violent medicine, which may, with the well-feigned alarm of the doctor, induce him to suppose he is dying, when they imagine that, as his motive for withholding his consent is of a mercenary nature, they may so far work upon his conscience as to obtain it. The plot is overheard by Aurelia, Jolly's daughter, who has bribed Lucia's maid to betray her; not, however, be fore the medicine had been given, and considerable alarm spread through the house. Aurelia has engaged to assist Puny, a rich fop, in his amorous suit to Lucia, and indeed to marry him to her in a dark chamber, where he is to be substituted for young Truman, and the marriage is to take place in silence; a scheme which is suggested by the ingenious mode of communication adopted by the lovers. A marriage accordingly is celebrated and consummated; but when Puny claims his supposed bride, she repels him with great indignation. Young Truman, who is present, and whose faith in Lucia had been previously shaken by a forged letter, delivered to him by Aurelia veiled, and representing Lucia, of course becomes cold and sad, and refuses to listen to Lucia's vindication. Jolly, supposing that Lucia was married to Puny without his consent, avows his determination to retain her portion, and bestow it on Aurelia ; and he and old Truman arrange that young Truman shall marry Aurelia. Young Truman, indifferent to every thing since the imagined faithlessness of Lucia, gives his consent, only requesting that Aurelia will indulge his humour by being married in a veil. This is just what the malicious lady wants, for her design is to marry him to Lucia's maid. Lucia, hearing of all these preparations, waits in the garden, veiled as usual, to take a last look at her too credulous lover. Young Truman, prepared for church, comes out, and supposing that the lady in waiting is Aurelia, takes her hand, leads her to church, and marries her. When it is discovered, on their return, that young Truman has married Lucia, Aurelia comes forward, and discloses that she is the bride of Puny. There are some under-plots, one of which it may be well to notice, as we shall have occasion to make an extract from it. Jolly, whose estate had been forfeited, and since acquired by a certain puritan, called Colonel Fear-the-Lord Barebottle, now dead, determines to marry his widow, and for that purpose feigns, during the sickness before alluded to, that he has been converted by the gentle relict of Barebottle to republicanism and puritanism, which, with the forfeiture of Lucia's portion, mollifies the widow, and they are married. Cutter, a soi-disant colonel and a bottle-companion of Jolly, is also converted in a moment to a fifth-monarchy man, and contrives to marry Tabitha, the widow's daughter, who inclines to that sect. The following is a specimen of cavalier jollity: "Present, JOLLY, CUTTER, WORM, and WILL. "Jolly. Stay you, Will, and reach me the cordial; I begin to hope that my extreme violent fit of vomiting and purging has wrought out all the poison, and sav'd my life-my pain's almost quite gone, but I'm so sore and faint-give me the glass. Worm. What d' you mean, colonel? You will not dote, I hope, now you're dying? Drink I know not what there, made by a doctor and a 'pothecary? Drink a cup o' sack, man, healing sack; you'll find your old antidote best. Cut. He 'as reason, colonel; it agrees best with your nature; 'tis good to recover your strength-as for the danger, that's past, I'm confident, already. Jolly. Dost thou think so, honest Cutter ? Fetch him a bottle o' sack, Will, for that news; I'll drink a little myself, one little beerglass. Cut. Poor creature! he would try all ways to live! Jolly. Why if I do die, Cutter, a glass o' sack will do me no hurt, I hope I do not intend to die the whining way, like a girl that's afraid to lead apes in hell Enter WILL, with a bottle and great glass. So, give it me; a little fuller-yet [he drinks]—it warms exceedingly and is very cordial-So,-fill to the gentlemen. Worm. Let's drink, let's drink, whilst breath we have, You'll find but cold, but cold drinking in the grave. Cut. A catch, i'faith! boy, go down, boy, go down, And fill us t'other quart, That we may drink the colonel's health. Worm. That we may drink the colonel's health, Worm. Why dost thou frown, thou arrant clown? Hey boys-tope [Sings. Jolly. Why this is very cheerly! Pray let's ha' the catch that we made t'other night against the doctor. Worm. Away with't, Cutter; hum Come fill us the glass o' sack. Cut. What health do we lack? Worm. Confusion to the quack. Cut. And fill again the sack, Worm. He's a kind of grave-maker, Cut. An urinal shaker, Worm. A wretched groat-taker, Cut. A stinking close-stool raker. Worm. He's a quack, that's worse than a quaker. Both. He's a quack, &c. Worm. Hey boys-gingo Jolly. Give me the glass, Will, I'll venture once more, whate'er come on't. Here's a health to the royal traveller, and so finis coronat. Worm. Come on, boys, vivat! have at you again, then. Now a pox on the poll of old politick Noll. Both. We'll drink till we bring Cut. And many such as he. Jolly. I'm very sick again: Will, help me into my bed; rest you, merry gentlemen. Cut. Nay, we'll go in with him, captain; he shall not die this bout. Worm. It's pity but he should, he does 't so bravely; come along then, kiss me, Cutter; is not this better than quarrelling? Both. May he live till he see, &c. Hey for fidlers now! [Exeunt." In the scenes in which Young Truman bears a part, there is much tenderness, and portions of them are even pathetic. We shall make two extracts from this part of the play. Truman has discovered the supposed faithlessness of Lucia. "Enter TRUMAN, junior. "What shall I think henceforth of womankind, When I know Lucia was the best of it, And see her what she is? What are they made of? Enter LUCIA. Ha! she will not let me see her, sure; 'Tis now, that thou mayst hide thy guilty blushes. Lucia. If all their malice yet Have not prevail'd on Truman's constancy, They'll miss their wicked end, and I shall live still. I'll go and speak to him. Trum. Forbear, Lucia, for I have made a second oath, which I shall keep, I hope, with lesser trouble, never to see thy face more. Lucia. You were wont, sir, To say, you could not live without the sight of 't. Trum. Ay, 'twas a good one then. Lucia. Has one day spoil'd it? Trum. O yes, more than a hundred years of time, Made as much more by sorrow, and by sickness, Could e'er have done. Lucia. Pray hear me, Truman : For never innocent maid was wrong'd as I am. Believe what I shall say to you, and confirm Trum. I have believ'd those female tricks too long; |