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self reading Cato or the Grecian Daughter, instead of men who had breathed the air of the days of Shakspeare.

Massinger was joint author with Decker, of the play from which the scene of the lady and the angel is taken ; but nobody who knows the style of the two men can doubt for a moment to which it belongs. I have, therefore, without hesitation assigned it according to the opinion expressed by Mr. Lamb.

FLIGHT OF WITCHES.

Scene, a Field. Enter HECATE, STADLIN, HOPPO, and other

Witches. FIRESTONE in the back-ground.

Hec. The moon's a gallant; see how brisk she rides !
Stad. Here's a rich evening, Hecate.
Hec.

Ay, is 't not, wenches,
To take a journey of five thousand miles?
Нес.

O’t will be precious!
Heard you the owl yet?
Stad.

Briefly in the copse,
As we came through now.
Hec.

'T is high time for us then.
Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times,
As we came through the woods, and drank her fill:
Old Puckle saw her.
Нес.

You are fortunate still ;
The very screech-owl lights upon your shoulder,
And woos you like a pigeon. Are you furnished ?
Have you your ointments ?

Stad.

All.
Нес.

Prepare to flight then;
I'll overtake you swiftly.
Stad.

Hie thee, Hecate;
We shall be up betimes.
Hec.

I'll reach you quickly.

[Exeunt all the Witches except HECATE. Fire. They are all going a birding to-night: they talk of fowls i'th' air that fly by day; I am sure they 'll be a company of foul sluts there to-night: if we have not mortality after 't, I 'll be hanged, for they are able to putrefy it, to infect a whole region. She spies me now.

Hec. What, Firestone, our sweet son ?

Fire. A little sweeter than some of you, or a dunghill were too good for me.

[Aside. Hec. How much hast here? Fire. Nineteen, and all brave plump ones,

besides six lizards and three serpentine eggs.

Hec. Dear and sweet boy! what herbs hast thou?
Fire. I have some marmartin and mandragon.
Hec. Marmaritin and mandragora, thou wouldst say.

Fire. Here 's panax too~I thank thee--my pan aches I'm sure, with kneeling down to cut 'em. Hec.

And selago,
Hedge-hysop too: how near he goes my cuttings !
Were they all cropt by moonlight?
Fire.

Every blade of 'em,
Or I'm a moon-calf, mother.
Hec.

Hie thee home with 'em :
Look well to the house to-night; I'm for aloft.

Fire. Aloft, quoth you? I would you would break your neck once, that I might have all quickly! [Aside] -- Hark, hark, mother! they are above the steeple already, flying over your head with a noise of musicians.

Hec. They 're they indeed. Help, help me; I'm too late else.

SONG ABOVE.

Come away, come away,

Hecate, Hecate, come away.
Hec. I come,
I come, I come, I come,

Ι
With all the speed I may.

Where's Stadlin ?
[Voice above.]

Here.
Hec. Where's Puckle ?
[Voice above.]

Here.
And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too;
We lack but you, we lack but you ;
Come away,

make up the count.
Hec. I will but 'noint and then I mount.

[A spirit like a cat descends. (Voice above.] There's one comes down to fetch his dues,

A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood;
And why thou stay'st so long, I muse,

Since the air 's so sweet and good ?
Hec. 0, art thou come? what news, what news ?
Spirit. All goes still to our delight.

Either come, or else refuse.
Hec. Now I'm furnished for the flight.
Fire. Hark, hark, the cat rings a brave treble in her own
language !
Hec. (going up.] Now I go, now I fly,

Malkin my sweet spirit and I.
O what a dainty pleasure't is

To ride in the air

When the moon shines fair,
And sing and dance, and toy and kiss !
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains ;
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,
We fly by night, ʼmongst troops of spirits :
No ring of bells to our ears sounds ;

No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's breach,

Or cannon's throat our height can reach. [Voi above.] No ring of bells, &c.

Fire. Well, mother, I thank your kindness : you must be gambolling i'th'air, and leave me to walk here, like a fool and a mortal.

MIDDLETON.

THE CHRISTIAN LADY AND THE ANGEL.

An ANGEL, in the guise of a Page, attends on DOROTHEA.

Dor. My book and taper.
Ang.

Here, most holy mistress.
Dor. Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never
Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound.
Were every servant in the world like thee,
So full of goodness, angels would come down
To dwell with us : thy name is Angelo,
And like that name thou art. Get thee to rest;
Thy youth with too much watching is opprest.

Ang. No, my dear lady ; I could weary stars,
And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes,
By my late watching, but to wait on you.
When at your prayers you kneel before the altar,
Methinks I'm singing with some quire in heaven,
So blest I hold me in your company :
Therefore, my most lov'd mistress, do not bid
Your boy, so serviceable, to get hence;
For then you break his heart.
Dor.

Be nigh me still then.
In golden letters down I'll set that day
Which gave thee to me. Little did I hope

To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself,
This little, pretty body, when I, coming
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy,
My sweet-faced, godly beggar-boy, crave an alms,
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand !
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom
Methought was fill’d with no hot wanton fire,
But with a holy flame, mounting since higher,
On wings of cherubims, than it did before.

Ang. Proud am I, that my lady's modest eye
So likes so poor a servant.
Dor.

I have offer'd
Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents.
I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some,
To dwell with thy good father; for, the son
Bewitching me so deeply with his presence,
He that begot him must do it ten times more.
I pray thee, my sweet boy, show me thy parents;
Be not asham'd.
Ang.

I am not: I did never
Know who my mother was; but by yon palace,
Fill'd with bright heavenly courts, I dare assure you,
And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand,
My father is in heaven; and, pretty mistress,
If your illustrious hour-glass spend his sand,
No worse than yet it does, upon my life,
You and I both shall meet my father there,
And he shall bid you welcome!
Dor.

O blessed day!
We all long to be there, but lose the way.

[Exeunt.

DOROTHEA is executed ; and the ANGEL visits THEOPHILUS, the

Judge that condemned her.
Theoph. (alone) This Christian slut was well,
A pretty one; but let such horror follow

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