s little
boy; throughout the whole incident of the gentle lady whose fate melts
even the Vice to tears; and in the outburst of a mother's grief over her
child's corpse. We quote the last.

O blissful babe, O joy of womb, heart's comfort and delight,
For counsel given unto the king, is this thy just requite?
O heavy day and doleful time, these mourning tunes to make!
With blubb'red eyes into my arms from earth I will thee take,
And wrap thee in my apron white: but O my heavy heart!
The spiteful pangs that it sustains would make it in two to part,
The death of this my son to see: O heavy mother now,
That from thy sweet and sug'red joy to sorrow so shouldst bow!
What grief in womb did I retain before I did thee see;
Yet at the last, when smart was gone, what joy wert thou to me!
How tender was I of thy food, for to preserve thy state!
How stilled I thy tender heart at times early and late!
With velvet paps I gave thee suck, with issue from my breast,
And danced thee upon my knee to bring thee unto rest.
Is this the joy of thee I reap? O king of tiger's brood,
O tiger's whelp, hadst thou the heart to see this child's heart-blood?
Nature enforceth me, alas, in this wise to deplore,
To wring my hands, O wel-away, that I should see this hour.
Thy mother yet will kiss thy lips, silk-soft and pleasant white,
With wringing hands lamenting for to see thee in this plight.
My lording dear, let us go home, our mourning to augment.

The second play, _Appius and Virginia_ (1563), by R.B. (not further
identified), is, in some respects, weaker; though, by avoiding the
crowded plot which spoilt _Cambyses_, it attains more nearly to tragedy.
The low characters, Mansipulus and Mansipula, the Vice (Haphazard), and
the abstractions, Conscience, Comfort and their brethren, reappear with
as little success. But the singleness of the theme helps towards that
elevation of the main figures and intensifying of the catastrophe which
tragic emotion demands. Unfortunately, from the start the author seems
to have been obsessed with the notion that the familiar rant of Herod
was peculiarly suited to his subject. In such a notion there lay, of
course, the half-truth that lofty thoughts and impassioned speech are
more befitting the sombre muse than the foolish chatter of clowns. But,
except where his own deliberately introduced mirth-makers are speaking,
he will have not