4. The Tragedy of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. 12mo, 1639. 12mo, 1654. 5. The Old Couple, a Comedy. 4to. 1658. He also wrote The Reign of King Henry the Second," and "The victorious Reign of Edward the Third," both in English verse; and translated, besides Lucan, the Georgics of Virgil, the Epigrams of Martial, the Icon Animorum, by Barclay, and the verses in Argenis, by the same author. He likewise was the author of "The History of the Parliament of England, which began November 3, 1640, with a short and necessary view of some precedent years." Folio, 1647. The following inscription was made upon him by one of the Cavalier party, which he had abused: Adsta, Viator, et Poetam legas Quem ita feliciter Anglicanum fecerat, Nam uterque ingratus Principis sui Proditor; Lucanum enim ante obitum pœnitentem legis, Parliamenti rebellis tam pertinax adstipulator, Attamen fingendi artem non penitus amisit, Inter tot Heroas Poetarum, Nobiliumque, Nec tamen mirere eum hic rebelles posuisse, THE Heir being born, was in his tender age The world where he despairs not but to find You shall observe his words in order meet, With letters; for, till every one be known, Though I can give thee none, but what thou hast Yet was this garment (though I skilless be • Thomas Carew "was the younger brother of a good family, and of excellent parts, and had spent many years of his youth in France and Italy; and, returning from travel, followed the court, which the modesty of that time disposed men to do some time, before they pretended to be of it; and he was very much esteemed by the most eminent persons in the court, and well looked upon by the king himself for some years before he could obtain to be sewer to the king; and when the king conferred that place up-* on him, it was not without the regret even of the whole Scottish nation, which united themselves in recommending another gentleman to it; and of so great value were those relations held in that age, when majesty was beheld with the reverence it ought to be. He was a person of a pleasant and facetious wit, and made many poems, (especially in the amorous way,) which, for the sharpness of the fancy, and the elegancy of the language in which that fancy was spread, were at least equal, if not superior, to any of that time: but his glory was, that after fifty years of his life, spent with less severity or exactness than it ought to have been, he died with the greatest remorse for that license, and with the greatest manifestation of Christianity that his best friends could desire."-Life of Clarendon. 8vo. edit. 1759. Vol. I. p. 36. He died in the year 1639. + Psectas.-i. c. Fituperator, which answers to her character. Former editions read Psecas. Ros. Yes, my lord, With every circumstance, the time, the place, Poly. That's well, that's very well: now, Roscio, Ros. Oh no, my lord, Not for your skill; has not your Lordship seen Poly. By the mass 'tis true, I have seen the In such a lively colour, that for false From the spectators. Ladies in the boxes Ros. Rarely, my lord; Even now, methinks, I see your lordship's house In all this kingdom, but conceives a hope Poly. Those are not they I look for; no, my nets Are spread for other game; the rich and greedy, Ros. Others will come, my lord, Poly. Nay, fear not that; there's none shall 1 Gallo-belgicus.-Gallo-belgicus was the name of the first news-paper published in England. Cleveland, in his Character of a London Diurnal, says, "The original sinner of this kind was Dutch, Gallo"belgicus the Protoplast, and the modern Mercuries but Hans en Kelders." The exact time when they were printed I am unable to discover; but they certainly were as early as the reign of Queen Elizabeth; some intelligence given by Mercurius Gallo-belgicus being mentioned in Carew's Survey of Cornwal, p. 126, originally published in 1602. Dr Donne, in his Verses upon Thomas Coryat's Cordities, 1611, says, "To Gallo-belgicus appear "As deep a statesman as a gazetteer." Beaumont and Fletcher mention Mercurius Gallo-belgicus, in the Fair Maid of the Inn, act 4.; and Ben Jonson, in the Poetaster, act 5. scene 3. Glapthorne also, in Wit in a Constable; and Howel, in his Letters, p. 185, edition 1754. 2 Hicronimo. See the Spanish Tragedy. 3 Grecian Queen.-Penelope. To see my daughter, or to speak to her, But such as I approve, and aim to catch. Ros. The jest will be, my lord, when you shall see How your aspiring suitors will put on The face of greatness, and belye their fortunes, Consume themselves in show, wasting, like merchants, Their present wealth in rigging a fair ship For some ill-ventured voyage, that undoes 'em. Poly. Twill feed me fat with sport that it shall make; Besides the large adventures it brings home Enter SERVANT. Serv. My lord, Count Virro is come to see you. Nature has been no niggard to my girl. Enter COUNT VIRRO. Vir. Is your lord asleep? I think not. My lord!-Count Virro: Vir. How do you, sir? Poly. I do intreat your lordship pardon me; Grief, and some want of sleep, have made me At this time unmannerly, not fit to entertain Guests of your worth. Vir. Alas, sir, I know your grief. Ros. 'Twas that, that fetched you hither. [Aside. Vir. You have lost a worthy and a hopeful son; But Heaven, that always gives, will sometimes take, And that the best. There is no balsam left us To cure such wounds as these, but patience; There is no disputing with the acts of Heaven; But if there were, in what could you accuse Those Powers that else have been so liberal to must look for; but if it had pleased Heaven that my son-ah my Eugenio![He weeps. Vir. Alas, good gentleman! Ros. 'Fore Heaven he does it rarely! Vir. But, sir, remember yourself, remember your daughter; let not your grief for the dead make you forget the living, whose hopes and fortunes depend upon your safety. Poly. Oh my good lord, you never had a son. Ros. Unless they were bastards, and for them no doubt but he has done as other lords do. [Aside Poly. And therefore cannot tell what 'tis to lose a son, a good son, and an only son. Vir. I would, my lord, I could as well redress, As I can take compassion of your grief, You should soon find an ease. Poly. Pray pardon me, my lord, if I forget myself toward you at this time; if it please you visit my house ofter, you shall be welcome. Vir. You would fain sleep, my lord, I'll take my leave; Heaven send you comfort! I shall make bold shortly to visit you. Poly. You shall be wondrous welcome. Wait on my lord out there.— [Exit Virra. So, now he's gone; how thinkest thou, Roscio, Will not this gudgeon bite? Ros. No doubt, my lord, So fair a bait would catch a cunning fish: With hope of which I'll feed him, till at length Ros. How stands my young lady affected to Poly, There's all the difficulty; we must win her to love him. I doubt the peevish girl will think him too old; he's well near fifty. In this business I must leave somewhat to thy wit and care: praise him beyond all measure. Ros. Your lordship ever found me trusty, Cler. Then, to be brief, I will pass over the opinion of your ancient fathers, as likewise those strange loves spoken of in the authentic histories of chivalry, Amadis de Gaul, Parismus, the Knight of the Sun, or the witty knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, where those brave men, whom neither enchantments, giants, wind-mills, nor flocks of sheep could vanquish, are made the trophies of triumphing love. Phil. Pr'ythee come to the matter. Cler. Neither will I mention the complaints of Sir Guy for the fair Phelis, nor the travels of Parismus for the love of the beauteous Laurana; nor, lastly, the most sad penance of the ingenious knight Don Quixote upon the mountains of Sienna Morena, moved by the unjust disdain of the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. As for our modern authors, I will not so much as name them, no not that excellent treatise of Tully's love, written by the master of art.4 Phil. I would thou wouldst pass over this passing over of authors, and speak thine own judge looks like an ass. Phil. I can describe him better than so myself: he looks like a man that had sitten up at cards all night, or a stale drunkard wakened in the midst of his sleep. Cler. But, Philocles, I would not have thee see this lady, she has a bewitching look. Phil. How darest thou venture, man? What strange medicine hast thou found? Ovid ne'er taught it thee: I doubt I guess thy remedy for love, go to a bawdy-house, or so, is it not? Cler. Faith, and that's a good way, I can tell you; we younger brothers are beholden to it; alas, we must not fall in love, and chuse whom we like best; we have no jointures for them as you blest heirs can have. Phil. Well, I have found you, sir; and pr'ythee tell me, how gettest thou wenches? Cler. Why I can want no panders; I lie in the constable's house. Phil. And there you may whore by authority. But, Clerimont, I doubt this paragon That thou so praisest, is some ill-favoured wench, Whom thou wouldst have me laughed at for commending. Cler. Believe it, I spoke in earnest; trust your eyes, I'll show you her. Phil. How canst thou do it? Cler. That's no matter; My lodging's the next door to this lord's house, [Exeunt: her? Franc. Sir, I am poor, I must confess; Fortune has blest you better: but I swear By all things that can bind, 'twas not your wealth Was the foundation of my true-built love; It was her single uncompounded self, Herself without addition, that I loved, Which shall for ever in my sight outweigh All other women's fortunes, and themselves; And were I great, as great as I could wish Myself for her advancement, no such bar As fortune's inequality should stand Betwixt our loves. Lucy. Good father, hear me. Frank. Dost thou not blush to call me father, strumpet? 4 Tully's love, written by the master of art.-The work here mentioned is entitled, "Tullies Love, wherein is discovered the prime of Ciceroes youth, &c. &c." By Robert Greene. In artibus magister, I have seen no earlier edition of it than that in 1616. S. |