380 The Early English Drama: [APRIL, 



Duke. See how your lordship fails now : 

 The rose not fresher, nor the sun at rising 

 More comfortably pleasing. 



Duch. Sir, to you,, the lord of this day's honour. 



Ant. All first moving 

 From your grace, Madam, and the Duke's great favour : 



Since it must 



* * # * * * 



Duch. ( aside}. Did ever cruel barbarous art match this? 

 Twice hath his surfeits brought my father's memory 

 Thus spightfully and scornfully to mine eyes, 

 And I'll endure 't no more : 'tis in my heart since. 

 I'll be revenged, as far as death can lead me. 



( Act I. Scene 1.) 



It can scarcely be necessary to point out to the reader the truly dra- 

 matic spirit of all this, or its striking effects in exciting the attention and 

 awakening the curiosity, by opening a vista into the future proceedings 

 of the principal persons of the drama. We cannot, however, refrain 

 from dwelling for a moment on two passages in particular, which we con- 

 ceive to possess an extraordinary degree of poetical merit, and precisely 

 that kind or merit which springs from a dramatic power in the writer. 

 We allude to the passages printed in italics. Nothing can be finer than 

 the first, as indicating the fearful state of Sebastian's mind, and at the 

 same time preparing the way for what that state of mind may afterwards 

 be expected to lead to. And the second, by its vivid appeal to the ima- 

 gination of the reader, places him in the position of an actual spectator 

 of what is passing. He sees the poor Duchess, first " pale" with sup- 

 pressed horror and indignation at the outrage about to be practised upon 

 her filial feelings ; and the next moment flushed with womanish fears, 

 lest her savage tormentor should guess the nature of her thoughts. 



From the foregoing extract it will be seen that this drama has two dis- 

 tinct plots ; one growing out of the endeavours of Sebastian to regain 

 possession of his betrothed love ; and the other arising out of the 

 Duchess's desire to revenge the repeated outrages put upon her by her 

 husband. These two plots are made to run parallel with each other 

 throughout the piece a practice very common with the old drama- 

 tists. The plot of the lovers takes the lead ; and in the very next scene 

 we find that the vague and unsettled purposes which had hitherto been 

 floating about in the mind of Sebastian have already (on the same night) 

 taken a sort of half-formed consistency which, however, still remains 

 uncertain, both in its character and ultimate tendency, till moulded by 

 circumstances external from himself. And, undoubtedly, this vagueness 

 and uncertainty as to his own views this " infirmity of purpose," on 

 the first contemplation of guilty thoughts by a mind to which they are 

 new and strange is no less true to nature than it is conducive to strik- 

 ing dramatic effects. How often, too, are the most important deter- 

 minations and actions of our lives dependent on, and directed by, the 

 merest trifles of the passing hour a thought, a look, a word dropped by 

 a companion, or even a stranger. Precisely thus it is with the naturally 

 noble-minded Sebastian. His purposes, good or bad, are at the mercy of 

 that over which he himself has no control ; and he does not dare attempt 

 to form those which his conscience would disapprove, but waits, in a state 

 of vague and restless misery, till circumstances make them form them- 



