XEUPHRANEA, daughter to Crotolon, a maid of honour. CHRISTALLA, Į

PHILEMA,

maids of honour.

GRAUSIS, overseer of Penthea.

Courtiers, Officers, Attendants, &c.

SCENE-Sparta.

Here Ford gives what he calls "the names of the speakers fitted to their qualities." If he found them elsewhere, it is well; if not, he has not been very successful in his appropriation of some of them.

ITHOCLES, Honour of Loveliness.

ORGILUS, Angry.

BASSANES, Vexation.

ARMOSTES, an Appeaser.

CROTOLON, Noise.

PROPHILUS, Dear.

NEARCHUS, Young Prince.

TECNICUS, Artist.

HEMOPHIL, Glutton.

GRONEAS, Tavern-haunter.

AMELUS, Trusty.

PHULAS, Watchful.

CALANTHA, Flower of Beauty.

PENTHEA, Complaint.

EUPHRANEA, Joy.

CHRISTALLA, Crystal.

PHILEMA, a Kiss.

GRAUSIS, Old Beldam.

Persons included.

THRASUS, Fierceness.

APLOTES, Simplicity.

PROLOGUE.

OUR scene is Sparta. He whose best of art
Hath drawn this piece calls it THE BROKEN HEART.
The title lends no expectation here

Of apish laughter, or of some lame jeer

At place or persons; no pretended clause
Of jests fit for a brothel courts applause
From vulgar admiration: such low songs,
Tun'd to unchaste ears, suit not modest tongues.
The virgin-sisters then deserv'd fresh bays

When innocence and sweetness crown'd their lays;
Then vices gasp'd for breath, whose whole commérce
Was whipp'd to exile by unblushing verse.
This law we keep in our presentment now,

Not to take freedom more than we allow ;

What may be here thought FICTION,2 when time's youth
Wanted some riper years, was known a TRUTH :
In which, if words have cloth'd the subject right,
You may partake a pity with delight.

2 fiction,] The 4to has "a fiction." D.

This Prologue has been hitherto most strangely printed. It is in the author's best manner, and, whether considered in a moral or poetical light, entitled to considerable praise.

THE BROKEN HEART.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A room in CROTOLON's house.

Enter CROTOLON and ORGILUS.

Crot. Dally not further; I will know the reason That speeds thee to this journey.

Org.

I can yield many.

Crot.

Reason! good sir,

Give me one, a good one;

Such I expect, and ere we part must have:
Athens! pray, why to Athens? you intend not

To kick against the world, turn cynic, stoic,
Or read the logic-lecture, or become

An Areopagite, and judge in cases

Touching the commonwealth; for, as I take it,
The budding of your chin cannot prognosticate
So grave an honour.

Org.

All this I acknowledge.

Crot. You do! then, son, if books and love of

knowledge

Inflame you to this travel, here in Sparta

You may as freely study.

Org.

'Tis not that, sir.