in. He beholds there, an
Apocalypse of the redemption of the world. On the tree of life sit the
Virgin and Child; while on the tree from which Eve plucked the apple,
"the woman" is seen, having power over the serpent. The vision changes,
and Cain is shown in hell, "sorrowing and weeping." Then the angel
plucks three kernels from the tree of life, and gives them to Seth for
his father's use, saying that they shall grow to another tree of life,
when more than five thousand years are ended; and that Adam shall be
redeemed from his pains when that period is fulfilled. After this, Seth
is dismissed by the angel and returns to communicate to his father the
message of consolation which he has received.

Adam hears the result of his son's mission with thankfulness; blesses
Seth; and speaks these last words, while he is confronted by Death:--

"Old and weak, I am gone!
To live longer is not for me:
Death is come,
Nor will here leave me
To live one breath!

I see him now with his spear,
Ready to pierce me on every side,
There is no escaping from him!
The time is welcome with, me--
I have served long in the world!"

So, the patriarch dies, trusting in the promise conveyed through his
son; and is buried by Seth "in a fair tomb, with some Church sonnet."

After this impressive close to the fourth act--impressive in its
intention, however clumsy the appliances by which that intention is
worked out--it would be doing the old author no kindness to examine his
fifth act in detail. Here, he sinks again in many places, to puerility
of conception and coarseness of dialogue. It is enough to say that the
history of the Flood closes the drama, and that the spectators are
dismissed with an epilogue, directing them to "come to-morrow, betimes,
and see very great matters"--the minstrels being charged, at the
conclusion to "pipe," so that all may dance together, as the proper
manner of ending the day's amusements.

And now, let us close the book, look forth over this lonesome country
and lonesome amphitheatre, and imagine what a scene both must have
presented, when a play was to be acted on a fine summer's morning in the
year 1611.

Fancy, at the outset, the arrival of the audience--people dressed in the
picturesque holiday costume of the time, which varied with every varying
rank, hurrying to their daylight play from miles off; all visible in
every direction on the surface of the open moor, and all conver