Specimens of extravagant bombast might be selected from his tragedies. The following speech of Amurath the Turk, who coming on the stage, and seeing "an appearance of the heavens being on fire, comets and blazing stars, thus addresses the heavens," which seem to have been in as mad a condition as the poet's own mind.

How now ye heavens! grow you

So proud, that you must needs put on curled locks, And clothe yourselves in perriwigs of fire!

In the raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second, he is introduced with this most raging speech:

Am I not emperor? he that breathes a no
Damns in that negative syllable his soul;
Durst any god gainsay it, he should feel
The strength of fiercest giants in my armies,
Mine anger's at the highest, and I could shake
The firm foundation of the earthly globe :
Could I but grasp the poles in these two hands
I'd pluck the world asunder.

He would scale heaven, and would then when he had

got beyond the utmost sphere,

Besiege the concave of this universe,

And hunger-starve the gods till they confessed
What furies did oppress his sleeping soul.

These plays went through two editions; the last printed in 1656.

The following passage from a similar bard is as precious. The king in the play exclaims,

By all the ancient gods of Rome and Greece,
I love my daughter !- -better than my niece!
If any one should ask the reason why,

I'd tell them

-Nature makes the stronger tie!

One of these rude French plays, about 1600, is entitled "La Rebellion, ou mescontentement des Grenouilles contre Jupiter," in five acts. The subject of this tragi-comic piece is nothing more than the fable of the frogs who asked Jupiter for a king. In this ridiculous effusion of a wild fancy, it must have been pleasant enough to have seen the actors, croaking in their fens, and climbing up the steep ascent of Olympus; they were dressed so as to appear gigantic frogs; and in pleading their cause before Jupiter and his court, the dull humour was to croak sublimely, whenever they did not agree with their judge.

Clavigero, in his curious history of Mexico, has given Acosta's account of the Mexican theatre, which appears to resemble the first scenes among the Greeks, and these French frogs, but with more fancy and taste. Acosta writes, "The small theatre was curiously whitened, adorned with boughs, and arches made of flowers and feathers, from which were suspended many birds, rabbits,

and other pleasing objects. The actors exhibited burlesque characters, feigning themselves deaf, sick with colds, lame, blind, crippled, and addressing an idol for the return of health. The deaf people answered at cross purposes; those who had colds by coughing; and the lame by halting; all recited their complaints and misfortunes, which produced infinite mirth among the audience. Others appeared under the names of different little animals; some disguised as beetles, some like toads, some like lizards, and upon encountering each other, reciprocally explained their employments, which was highly satisfactory to the people, as they performed their parts with infinite ingenuity. Several little boys also belonging to the temple, appeared in the disguise of butterflies, and birds of various colours, and mounting upon the trees which were fixed there on purpose, little balls of earth were thrown at them with slings, occasioning many humorous incidents to the spectators."

Something very wild and original appears in this singular exhibition; where at times the actors seem to have been spectators, and the spectators were actors.

THE MARRIAGE OF THE ARTS.

As a literary curiosity can we deny a niche to that "obliquity of distorted wit," of Barton Holyday, who has composed a strange comedie, in five acts, performed at Christ Church, Oxford, 1630, not for the entertainment, as an anecdote records, of James the First.

The title of the comedy of this unclassical classic, for Holyday is known as the translator of Juvenal with a very learned commentary, is TEXNOTAMIA, or the Marriage of the Arts, 1630, quarto, extremely dull, excessively rare, and extraordinarily high-priced among collectors.

It may be exhibited as one of the most extràvagant inventions of a pedant. Who but a pedant could have conceived the dull fancy of forming à comedy, of five acts, on the subject of marrying the Arts! They are the dramatis persona of this piece, and the bachelor of arts describes their intrigues and characters. His actors are Polites, a magistrate;-Physica;-Astronomia, daughter to Physica;-Ethicus, an old man ;-Geographus, a traveller and courtier, in love with Astronomia ;-Arithmetica, in love with Geometry;-Logicus;— Grammaticus, a schoolmaster;-Poeta ;-Historia,

in love with Poetica;-Rhetorica, in love with Logicus ;-Melancholico, Poeta's man;-Phantastes, servant to Geographus ;-Choler, Grammaticus's man.

All these refined and abstract ladies and gentlemen have as bodily feelings, and employ as gross language, as if they had been every-day characters. A specimen of his grotesque dulness may entertain; "fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit."

Geographus opens the play with declaring his passion to Astronomia, and that very rudely indeed! See the pedant wreathing the roses of Love!

"Geog. Come, now you shall, Astronomia. Ast. What shall I, Geographus?

Geog. Kisse!

Ast. What in spite of my teeth!

Geog. No, not so! I hope you do not use to kisse with your teeth.

Ast. Marry, and I hope I do not use to kisse without them.

Geog. Ay, but my fine wit-catcher, I mean you do not show your teeth when you kisse."

He then kisses her, as he says, in the different manners of a French, Spanish, and Dutch kiss. He wants to take off the zone of Astronomia. She begs he would not fondle her like an elephant