636 DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 



Th' expressive features shrunk, the jaws agape, 

 The eye unmeaning, and the mouth misus'd, 

 And every organ of high genius prostrate. 

 A sigh as gentle as the air of perfume 

 Awhile revives the sensitive machine, 

 And, as he lifts his languid face to Heaven, 

 He culls a moral for his weeping friends, 

 And yields submissive to the general ordnance. 

 So death makes poor distinctions, and the world, 

 Therein resolving death is right, ere long 

 Th' example follows, and forgets us all. 



We have been led to indulge more in extracts from the production 

 before us than is our custom ; but upon the present occasion we 

 think it right that our author should be permitted to vindicate his 

 claims to the title of a dramatic writer of no mean promise ; and we 

 are too happy, in this unproductive period of dramatic labour, to 

 forego the opportunity of making the most of a hopeful candidate. 



One more extract, and we have done. It" is the Queen's farewell 

 to her attendants immediately before her execution. 



Anne. And yet a moment's respite : 

 I had well nigh been most ungrateful. 

 My good, my gentle, and best hearted maids, 

 Ye, of the host that bask'd in my emprize, 

 Who have alone been constant to my woes ; 

 And tended me more kindly in reverses 

 Than others ever did in golden state 

 Weep no more for us or our parting thus ! 

 But give me in prompt charity your pardon, 

 That of the good I have had power to do 

 So little hath been done. Here are we happy ! 

 Our new spouse, death to a long bridal beckons, 

 And it were shame to tarry. So pass we o'er 

 Your several merits and our thanks to each, 

 And personal leave taking. Dearest and best, 

 Ye of the many that I counted friends 

 Have been the last to sever from me, 

 And unto you I bid my last farewell. 

 Adieu, I cannot kiss you singly, but Lee, 

 Come hither you, and for yourself and all, 

 Take this embrace and this penn'd book of prayer, 

 In honourable memory of poor Queen Anne Boleyn. 

 Bless thee, kind soul ! so dry thine eyes so, so 

 Look up, and heed how I shall triumph. 

 Now, then, Sir William, my pain must soon be o'er. 



Mr. Smyth tells us, in his preface, that he has attempted to bring 

 his play upon the stage, and that he has been unsuccessful. Nothing 

 can be more likely nothing might have been more certainly predi- 

 cated of such an application to modern managers ; and we think 

 we may assure him, that unless he go before them furnished with a 

 name backed by a troop of horses or strengthened by the fan- 

 tastic toes of a corps du ballet, he will be as little likely to ensure 

 attention for the time to come, as he has succeeded in awakening an 

 interest for his play in the present instance. 



