1828.] The Witch. 383 



Upon that penitent miracle. But the work itself 

 Our power cannot disjoint. 



Seb. I depart happy, 



In what I have,* then ; being 1 constrain' d to this. 

 And grant, you greater powers that dispose men, 

 That I may never need this hag again ! 



Hec. I know he loves me not, and there's no hope of it. 

 "Tis for the love of mischief I do this, 

 And that we're sworn to the first oath we take. 



( Act I. Scene 2.) 



All this is very spirited and effective, and it forms a bright exception 

 to what we have said above, as to the general want of merit of the witch 

 part of this drama. Above all, nothing can be finer in its way than the 

 first passage marked in italics, where the questionings of Hecate are made 

 to probe into the secret heart of Sebastian, and drag thence thoughts and 

 wishes that otherwise he would never have dared to utter, even to him- 

 self. Again, the comparison of the " jealousies, strifes," &c. to " a 

 thick scurf o'er life" has a fearful beauty about it, the effect of which can 

 never leave the mind of the reader or spectator who is duly impressed 

 by it. It is a passage that, if once felt, is felt for ever. 



The second act opens on the morning after the marriage of Antonio 

 with Isabella, and discovers the former suffering under the consciousness 

 of the effects worked upon him by the charm given to Sebastian by the 

 witch. It also introduces Francisca, sister to Antonio a person brought 

 forward for no very obvious purpose, but that of confusing and over- 

 loading the plot, by connecting it with a sort of under-plot, which is 

 rendered doubly objectionable by its gratuitous grossness. As the whole 

 of this portion of the drama has no necessary connexion with the chief 

 plot, we shall pass it over altogether merely observing that we fear- 

 er, rather, we hope those kind of additions were absolutely necessary 

 or at least were considered so in order to propitiate the, in some 

 respects, gross tastes of the audiences of our early theatre. They are 

 so almost universal among even the finest and the purest writers of the 

 time in question, that no other interpretation can be put upon them. 



Towards the end of the first scene (which is a very long and ill-con- 

 ducted one), Sebastian appears, under his disguise of a servant, in the 

 family of Antonio, where he has contrived to place himself, in order 

 to watch the progress and effects of his secret machinations. But neither 

 now, nor for a considerable time after, is he able to discover any thing, 

 in the words or bearing of Isabella, which promises future success to his 

 (now unlawful) love. She is still, calm, and self-possessed; and as 

 silent as to her former love, as if it had never existed. In fact, the cha- 

 racter of Isabella is conducted throughout with great truth and beauty 

 but especially up to the period at which she is led to believe that there is 

 just cause for her to cast off the engagements which (believing Sebastian 

 dead) she has suffered herself to be half forced into with Antonio. Then, 

 but not till then, it appears that they press upon her secret heart with a 

 weight, 



" Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life ;" 



and that her love for the wrong'd Sebastian is still the moving spirit of 

 her thought. Her bearing, up to the period of the present scene, is beau- 



* He refers to the charm she has given him the snakes' -skins, &c. 



