206 



NOTES AND QUiiRlES. 



i:2»-i S. X. Sept. 15. '60, 



Marlow, Dr. Bliss has Inserted the following anec- 

 dote of Marlow, which differs from Wood's account 

 of his death : — 



" Marlow's tragical end is related somewhat diflferently 

 by William Vaughan in his Golden Grove moralised, 

 1608, who lived sufficiently near the time to be correct. 

 Speaking of God's judgments upon atheists, he says: 

 ♦Not inferior to these was one Christopher Marlow, by 

 profession a plaj'-maker, who, as it is reported, about 

 fourteen years ago, wrote a book against the Trinitie; 

 but see the effects of God's justice : it so happened that 

 at Detford, a little village about three miles distant from 

 London, as he meant to stab with his ponyard one named 

 Ingram, that had injured him thither to a feast, and was 

 then playing at tables; he* quickly perceiving it, so 

 avoyded the thrust, that withal drawing out his dagger 

 for his defence, he stabbed this Marlow in the eye, in such 

 sort that his braynes coming out at his dagger's point, 

 he shortly after died.' In allusion to Marlow's beautiful 

 song of « Come with me and be my love,' Dr. Bliss re- 

 marks, that it has been well observed that this composi- 

 tion is not so purely pastoral as it is generally supposed 

 to be ; golden buckles, coral clasps, silver dishes, and ivory 

 tables, being rather too refined and luxurious for rural 

 retirement and simplicity. This song is alluded to in a 

 very scarce tract in the Bodleian, called Choice, Chance, 

 and Change, or Conceites in their Colours, 4tO., 1606. In 

 answer to an invitation, ♦ I pray let us be merry, and let us 

 live together? ' We have, ' Why, how now, do you take 

 me for a woman, that you came upon me with a ballad of 

 " Come live with me, and be my love." '" — P. 3. 



Thomas Lodge, "author of ' Euphues Golden 

 Legacie,' 1590, ' A Fig for Momus,' 1595. (Lodge's 

 Pastoral Songs)" says Dr. Bliss, and his Madrigals 

 were scattered pretty thickly in his Golden Ze- 

 gacy, as well as in the miscellaneous collections of 

 the day. The following commences with great 

 sweetness and beauty : — 



" The Solitarie Sliepherd's Song. 



" O shadie vale, o faire enriched meades, 



O sacred woods, sweet fields and rising mountains, 

 O painted flowers, greene hearbs where Flora treades, 



Refreshed by wanton winds and watry fountaines : 

 O all you winged quoristers of wood. 



That pearch'd aloft, your former paines report. 

 And straite again recount, with pleasant moode. 



Your present joyes in sweet and seemly sort : 

 O all you creatures whosoever thrive 



On mother earth, in seas, by aj're, by fire. 

 More blest are you than 1 heere under sunue ; 



Love dies in me, when as hee doth revive 

 In you ; I perish under beauties ire. 



Where after stormes, winds, frosts, your life is won." 



" Solitariness. 



" Sweet solitary life, thou true repose. 



Wherein the wise contemplate heaven aright, 



In thee no dread of war or worldly foes ; 

 In thee no pomp seduceth mortal sight : 



In thee no wanton ears to win with woes, 

 Nor lurking toys, which silly life affords." 



Francis Beaumont. Bliss notices, that his lite- 

 rary partnership with Fletcher in their dramatic 

 writings is too well known to require explanation. 

 On this subject, however, he remarks that Au- 

 brey, whose accounts are always curious and en- 



tertaining, relates the following anecdote of tlie 

 two di'amatists : — 



" There was a wondeifuU consimilarity of phansy be- 

 tween Beaumont and Fletcher, which caused that dear- 

 nesse of friendship between them. I have heard Dr. John 

 Earle (since Bishop of Sarum) say, who knew them, that 

 his maine businesse was to correct the overflowings of 

 Mr. Fletcher's witt. They lived together on the Banke- 

 side, not far from the playhouse. Both batchelors, lay 

 together, had one wench in the house, between them, 

 which they did so admire : the same cloaths and cloake," 

 &c. 



Nichols, Chalmers, and Heber, who published 

 their poems, say that it was bench, and not wench, 

 which they so much admired, which is much more 

 probable. 



_ Beaumont's poems, says Bliss, " are all of con- 

 siderable, some of them of high merit. The fol- 

 lowing extract will show the sprightly style of his 

 composition : " — 



" Flattering Hope ! away, and leave me ! 

 She'el not come, thou dost deceive me ; 

 Hark ! the cock crows — th' envious light 

 Chides away the silent night ; 

 Yet she comes not ! oh ! how I tire. 

 Betwixt cold fear and hot desire. 



" Here alone enforced to tarry. 

 While the tedious minutes marry 

 And get hours, those days and years. 

 Which I count with sighs and fears ; 

 Yet she comes not — oh ! how I tire, 

 Betwixt cold fear and hot desire. 



" Come then, Love, prevent day's eyeing. 

 My desire would fain be dying : 

 Smother me with breathless kisses. 

 Let me dream no more of blisses ; 

 But tell me which is in love's fire. 

 Best to enjoy, or to desire.' " 



(To he concluded in our next.") 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 



There is an instance of the frequent manner in 

 which Goldsmith managed to be more sensible in 

 his writings than in his life or his conversation, 

 which I think deserves a Note. It is commonly 

 said and thought that he was rendered averse to 

 his college studies, and especially to mathematics, 

 by the unkind, some say brutal, behaviour of one 

 of his tutors. His tutor, it is stated, was a Mr. 

 Wilder. This must have been the Rev. Theaker 

 Wilder (afterwards D.D.), who was a Senior Fel- 

 low of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1769, Avhen 

 he published an edition of Newton's Universal 

 Arithmetic. His predecessor in teaching mathe- 

 matics in the College was, as he informs us, a 

 Mr. Maguire ; but the tradition is that Wilder 

 was the teacher of Goldsmith, who was at college 

 from 1744 to 1749. 



Goldsmith, as we know, threw snatches of his 

 own life into the mouths of any of his characters 

 whom he put forward as narrators of their own 



