things of a troubled conscience. "Your
face, my Thane; is as a book where men may read strange matters." Midnight
and secret murders too, from the imperfect state of the police, were more
common; and the ferocious and brutal manners that would stamp the brow of
the hardened ruffian or hired assassin, more incorrigible and undisguised.
The portraits of Tyrrel and Forrest were, no doubt, done from the life. We
find that the ravages of the plague, the destructive rage of fire, the
poisoned chalice, lean famine, the serpent's mortal sting, and the fury of
wild beasts, were the common topics of their poetry, as they were common
occurrences in more remote periods of history. They were the strong
ingredients thrown into the cauldron of tragedy, to make it "thick and
slab." Man's life was (as it appears to me) more full of traps and
pit-falls; of hair-breadth accidents by flood and field; more way-laid by
sudden and startling evils; it trod on the brink of hope and fear;
stumbled upon fate unawares; while the imagination, close behind it,
caught at and clung to the shape of danger, or "snatched a wild and
fearful joy" from its escape. The accidents of nature were less provided
against; the excesses of the passions and of lawless power were less
regulated, and produced more strange and desperate catastrophes. The tales
of Boccacio are founded on the great pestilence of Florence, Fletcher the
poet died of the plague, and Marlow was stabbed in a tavern quarrel. The
strict authority of parents, the inequality of ranks, or the hereditary
feuds between different families, made more unhappy loves or matches.

"The course of true love never did run even."

Again, the heroic and martial spirit which breathes in our elder writers,
was yet in considerable activity in the reign of Elizabeth. "The age of
chivalry was not then quite gone, nor the glory of Europe extinguished for
ever." Jousts and tournaments were still common with the nobility in
England and in foreign countries: Sir Philip Sidney was particularly
distinguished for his proficiency in these exercises (and indeed fell a
martyr to his ambition as a soldier)--and the gentle Surrey was still more
famous, on the same account, just before him. It is true, the general use
of fire-arms gradually superseded the necessity of skill in the sword, or
bravery in the person: and as a symptom of the rapid degeneracy in this
respect, we find Sir John Suckling soon after boasting of himself