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Trel. Top and top-gallant pair-and for his

pains,

She will have him or none.

He's not the richest

I'th' parish; but a wit: I say, amen,

Because I cannot help it.

Amor. Tith no matter.

Aur. We'll remedy the penury of fortune; They shall with us to Corsica. Our cousin Must not despair of means, since 'tis believed Futelli can deserve a place of trust.

Fut. You are in all unfellow'd.

Amor. Withly thpoken.

Piero. Think on Piero, sir.

Aur. Piero, yes;

But what of these two pretty ones?

Ful. I'll follow

The ladies, play at cards, make sport, and whistle,
My purse shall bear me out: a lazy life

Is scurvy and debosh'd; fight you abroad,
And we'll be gaming, whilst you fight, at home,
Run high, run low, here is a brain can do't-
But for my martial brother Don, pray ye make

him

A-what-d'ye call 't-a setting dog,-a sentinel; I'll mend his weekly pay.

Guz. He shall deserve it. Vouchsafe employment, honourable—

Ful. Marry,

The Don's a generous Don.

Aur. Unfit to lose him.

Command doth limit us short time for revels;

We must be thrifty in them. None, I trust, Repines at these delights, they are free and harmless :

After distress at sea, the dangers o'er,
Safety and welcomes better taste ashore.

This Drama, like Perkin Warbeck, has been somewhat too lightly regarded. The plot, indeed, is simple, and the poet has not availed himself of the interest of which even that simplicity was susceptible; but the characters are well discriminated, and strongly marked. The high-spirited, pure-minded Spinella; the uxorious, sensitive, and noble Auria; and the rash, repentant, and dignified Adurni, do credit to the author's powers of conception : nor is the next trio, the faithful sister, the silent devoted lover, and the suspicious, gloomy, and selfish friend, to be passed without praise. The more serious scenes are beautifully written; and the situation, if not the language of some of the speakers in them, is well calculated to excite that tender feeling which melts the heart in almost every drama of this pathetic writer.

Either by accident or design, the humbler characters of the Lady's Trial are inoffensive; they are occasionally even amusing, and lead us to wish that Ford had suspected his want of genuine humour, and recollected, before he closed his theatrical career, (for this was probably his last play,) that a dull medley of extravagance and impurity was poorly calculated to supply the defect.

EPILOGUE.

THE Court's on rising; 'tis too late
To wish the lady in her fate
Of trial now more fortunate.

A verdict in the jury's breast,
Will be giv'n up anon at least,
Till then 'tis fit we hope the best.

Else if there can be any stay,
Next sitting without more delay,
We will expect a gentle day.

THE SUN'S DARLING.

A MORAL MASQUE.

BY JOHN FORD AND THOMAS DECKER.

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