not compare with
those of the more properly Jacobean poets. To name only the best of each,
Ben Jonson gives us the exquisite "Queen and Huntress," which is perhaps
the best-known piece of his whole work; the pleasant "If I freely may
discover," and best of all--unsurpassed indeed in any language for rolling
majesty of rhythm and romantic charm of tone--"Drink to me only with thine
eyes." Again the songs in Beaumont and Fletcher stand very high, perhaps
highest of all next to Shakespere's in respect of the "woodnote wild." If
the snatch of only half articulate poetry of the "Lay a garland on my
hearse," of _The Maid's Tragedy_, is really Fletcher's, he has here
equalled Shakespere himself. We may add to it the fantastic and charming
"Beauty clear and fair," of _The Elder Brother_, the comic swing of "Let
the bells ring," and "The fit's upon me now;" all the songs without
exception in _The Faithful Shepherdess_, which is much less a drama than a
miscellany of the most delightful poetry; the lively war-song in _The Mad
Lover_, to which Dryden owed not a little; the catch, "Drink to-day and
drown all sorrow;" the strange song of the dead host in _The Lover's
Progress_; the exquisite "Weep no more," of _The Queen of Corinth_; the
spirited "Let the mill go round," of _The Maid in the Mill_; the "Lovers
rejoice," of _Cupid's Revenge_; the "Roses, their sharp spines being gone,"
which is one of the most Shakesperean things of _The Two Noble Kinsmen_;
the famous "Hence, all you vain-delights," of _The Nice Valour_, which
Milton expanded into _Il Penseroso_, and the laughing song of the same
play. This long catalogue only contains a part of the singularly beautiful
song work of the great pair of dramatists, and as an example we may give
one of the least known from _The Captain_:--

"Tell me, dearest, what is love?
'Tis a lightning from above;
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,
'Tis a boy they call Desire.
'Tis a grave,
Gapes to have
Those poor fools that long to prove.

"Tell me more, are women true?
Yes, some are, and some as you.
Some are willing, some are strange
Since you men first taught to change.
And till troth
Be in both,
All shall love to love anew.

"Tell me more yet, can they grieve?
Yes, and sicken sore, but live,
And be wise, and delay
When you men are as wise as they.
Then I see,
Faith