the means he possesses-his enthusiastic and national love of oratory, and his facility of access to all that yet remains of the preserved fragments of the great speeches delivered in Irelandanother such work would be the result. If he would so exert his industry and talents, we feel satisfied that he could produce a second volume valuable to literature, and profitable to himself, tending to that which we believe to be the warmest wish of his heart to put prominently forward the past glory of his country.

ART. III. The Playe called the Foure P. P., a newe and a verie merie interlude, of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Poticary, and a Pedler. Made by JOHN HEEWOOD. Imprynted at London, in Fleate street, at the synge of the George, by Wyllyam Myddylton. 2. A right pithy, pleasant, and merie comedy, entytuled Gammer Gurton's Nedle; played on stage not long ago in Christes Colledge, in Cambridge. Made by MASTER S. Master of Art. Imprented at London, in Fleate street, beneath the Conduit, at the signe of St. John Evangeliste, by Thomas Colwell, 1575.

3. A Woman kilde with Kindnesse; as it hath beene acted oftentimes by the Queenes majesties servants, 1617.

4. Andromana, or the Merchant's Wife. The scene Iberia. By J. S. London. Printed for John Bellinger; and are to be sold at his shop, in Clifford's Inn Lane in Fleet street, 1660. 5. The Duchesse of Malfy, a Tragedy; as it was approvedly well acted at the Black-Friers, by his majesties servants. The perfect and exact copy, with divers things printed that the length of the play would not bear in the presentment. Written by JOHN WEBSTER.

In those early days of merry England, when her sons were more honest than courteous, when they breakfasted on beefsteaks and ale, dined at eleven, supped at five, and, scorning thin potations, got drunk on generous sack, their literary taste was as coarse and as healthy as their corporeal appetites. What is now styled genteel comedy, where fine gentlemen, kneeling, pour forth sentimental effusions to finer ladies, and where the interest of the piece turns on a nice point of etiquette or heroic sentiments of honour, would probably have as little suited their tastes as our evening dinners, French cooking, and made dishes. Comedy was then a robust buxom dame, whose fat sides ever shook with laughter, who did not permit sentiment to feed upon the damask of her cheek, or excessive delicacy to heighten its blushes. She was but little acquainted with intrigue, and knew

nothing of the contrivances of screens, trap-doors, &c. In progress of time, she became a court lady, fashionable and affected -witty and dissolute-sometimes appearing in costly and numerous decorations, at others in an immodest dishabille. As she advanced in years, she grew sentimental, and, though not a whit less depraved, assumed a more correct demeanor, and primmed up her lips at a naughty jest. She has since lost much of her old English portliness, is greatly addicted to punning, fond of caricatures, and ever apes the newest fashion.

John Heywood, author of the "Four P's," was the second English dramatic writer, and was much favoured by Henry VIII. and his daughter Mary. He was celebrated for his wit; though from the specimens that have reached us, we must conclude that Queen Mary was easily amused. The Four P's is a lively contest between a Palmer, who has just returned from a long pilgrimage quite sure of heaven-a Pardoner, whose employment is to sell pardons to those who cannot or will not seek them in person-a Pedlar, and a Poticary. This title reminds us of the worthy alderman's toast, "the three R's-Writing, reading, and arithmetic." The Palmer describes the danger and fatigues he has undergone, the marvellous sights he has witnessed, and the full absolution he has gained. The Pardoner tells him, in reply, that he might better have staid at home and bought a pardon from him; and adds that he sends as many souls to heaven as the pope.

'Give me but a penny or two pens,

And asoone as the soule departeth hens,

In half an houre or three quarters at the moste

The soule is in heven.'

The Poticary, however, enters, and qualifies the Pardoner's boasts, by asserting, that though he may pardon souls, it is the Poticary who sends them to the other world.

Poticary. No soule, ye knowe, entreth heven gate

Till from the body he be separate ;

And whom have ye knowen dye honestly

Without help of the Poticary?

Pardoner. If ye kylled a thousand in an houres space,

When come they to heven dyenge out of grace?

Poticary. If a thousand pardons about your necks were tyed, When come they to heven if they never dyed?'

Words grow warm between the parties, when the fourth character, the Pedlar appears, and mollifies their wrath by exhibiting his goods. His catalogue gives us an amusing view of the wardrobes of our ancient grandmothers. The disputants, however, return to their argument, and constitute the Pedlar the umpire. They agree that he who invents the most marvellous tale

shall take precedence of the rest. The Pardoner exhibits, with much solemnity, his store of relics; and in this scene the author does not evince either religion or delicacy. The close of it is quaint and curious.

Pardoner. Here is an eye tooth of the great Turk;
Whose eyes he ones sette on this piece of worke,
May happely lose part of his eyesight,
But not all tyll he be blind outright.

Poticary. What so ever any man seeth
I have no devocion unto Turk's teeth.
For although I never saw a greter,

Yet methynketh I have seene many better.
Pardoner. Here is a box full of humble-bees
That stonge Eve, as she sat on her knees,
Tastynge the fruit to her forbydden:
Who kysseth the bees within this hidden
Shall have as much pardon of ryght,
As for any relyke he kyst this night.

Palmer. Sir, I will kysse them with all my herte.
Poticary. Kysse them agayne, and take my parte,
For I am not worthy; Nay, lette be,

Those bees that stonge Eve shall not stynge me.

Pardoner. Good freendes I have yet here in thys glas,
Which on the drinke of the weddynge was

Of Adam and Eve undoubtedly :

If ye honour this relyke devoutly,
Although ye thurste no whyt the lesse
Yet shall ye drynke the more, doubtlesse.
After which drynkynge ye shall be as mete
To stand on your hed as on your

fete.

Poticary. Go marry, now I can ye thanke;

In presens of thys, the rest be blanke.
Wolde God this relyke had come rather;
Kysse that relyke well good father.

Such is the payne ye Palmers take

To kysse the pardon bowl for the drynke sake.
O holy yeste that loketh both sour and stale,
For Goddes body help me to a cupp of ale.
The more I beholde thee the more I thurste ;
The oftener I kysse thee, the more lyke to burste.
But sins I kysse thee so devoutly,

Hyre me and help me with drynke till I dye.'

As the relic does not perform the miracle required, the Poticary relapses into unbelief, and gives a learned description of his remedies. Amidst the multitude of hard words we gathered that one prescription was "a soveraigne thynge to preserve a man from hangynge"-by despatching him out of danger immediately, we presume. After the wonderful story of the Poticary is related, the Pardoner gives an animated account of pur

gatory, and of his visit to hell, in quest of a friend's soul; of the friendly behaviour of the devil, who he acknowledges was an old acquaintance, and of the success of his mission, Lucifer declaring he should have twenty more if he wished, for even devils could not manage women. The Palmer begins his narrative by wondering that women should be such shrews in hell, when they are so "gentyll and fare" on earth; and goes on to affirm that though he travelled many a mile, and saw of women five hundred thousande," he never beheld "any one woman out of patiens." At this assertion, the company all burst out in these exclamations :

Poticary. By the masse, there is a great lye!

Pedlar, I never harde a greater by our ladye!

Pardoner. A greater! nay, knowe ye any one so great?'

The Pedlar then, with much eloquence and diffuseness, awards the prize to the Palmer, and they peaceably adjourn.

This little piece is written with considerable spirit; the description of the infernal regions, and the appearance and behaviour of the inhabitants, is very ludicrous.

Gammer Gurton's Needle was the first dramatic production which bore in England the title of comedy. The language and verse of this play are rude, though there is a vein of humour which runs through it, and, in some measure, entitles it to the commendation" of a right pithy, pleasant, and merie comedy," which is the praise given it in the title page. What are the afflictions of a dozen modern misses, to those of Gammer Gurton. The ladies of our day will scarcely comprehend the magnitude of her loss, when they hear, it was her needie; but faithful lovers of any period will sympathise with Hodge the hero, whose best and most important article of dress, in consequence of this untoward accident, was likely to go unrepaired on the very day he was to appear before his true love. The plot of the play is simple; the lago of the piece is Diccon the Bedlem, a term given to those beggars which the dissolution of religious houses poured over the land. This Diccon, who causes all the mischief, and at last escapes without punishment, opens the first scene, and as his soliloquy is at once expressive of his character and occupation, we will extract it.

Diccon. Many a myle have I walked divers and sundry waies, And many a good man's house have I bin at in my daies;

Many a gossip cup in my tyme have I tasted,

And many a broche and spyt have I both turned and basted;
Many a peece of bacon have I had out of their balkes,

In ronninge over the countrey with long and werie walkes;
Yet came my foote never within those doore cheekes

To seek flesh or fish, garlyke, onyons, or leekes,

That ever I saw a sorte in such a plyght,

As here within this house appereth to my syght:

There is howlynge and scowlynge, all cast in a dumpe
With whewling and pewling, as though they'd lost a trumpe.
Syghing and sobbing they weepe and they wayle,

I marvel in my mind what the devil they ayle.

Aske them what they ayle, or who brought them in this staye, They answer not at all, but alack and wel away. When I saw it booted not, out at doors I hyed mee, And caught a slyp of bacon, when I saw none spyed mee, Which I intend not far hence, unless my purpose fayle, Shall serve for a shoeing horn to draw on two pots of ale.' Having safely deposited his stolen treasure, the bedlem hastens to apprise Hodge of the commotion of his household. He finds him pathetically lamenting the dilapidated state of his dress; which affliction is, however, forgotten in the strange news which Diccon brings, and he determines to sift the mystery in person. The author has here made excellent use of what rhetoricians call suspension. Tyb, the faithful hand maid, endeavours to keep off the news for some time, but at length the dreadful truth bursts upon the mind of Hodge, and he utters the following reproaches.

Whereto served your hand and your eies, but this your neele to keepe?

What devill had you els to do? ye keep, ich lost no sheepe.

Cham [am] fain abroad to dig and delve in water, myre, and claye,

Sossing and possing in the dyst still from daye to daye,

A hundred things that be abrod cham set to see them weele:
And foure of you syt idle home and cannot keepe a neele.

Diccon insinuates that Gammer Gurton's gossip, Dame Chat, has purloined the needle, and this foul suspicion produces a violent quarrel between the two ladies, which is given in true billingsgate style. After some merry tricks are played off upon the vicar, the needle is found; the parties are reconciled, and the piece concludes in a hearty old English manner of adjourning to a tavern and a foaming can of ale.

We would have given many amusing extracts from this "merie comedie," but we were fearful that the sturdy wit which pleased Queen Mary might excite more displeasure than amusement in these more fastidious days. The veiled, and therefore dangerous immorality of half of the modern productions, deserve, however, severer censure, than the most squeamish critic could pronounce on the rough coarseness of "Gammer Gurton's Nedle."

"A Woman killed with Kindness," by Thomas Heywood, though it has many absurdities, cannot be read without gratifi