"I doubt I'm too quick of apprehension now."

"With which one gentleman, far in debt, has courted her."

"To call for, 'fore me, and thou look'st half ill indeed."

What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With ca.s.sia? or to be shot to death with pearls?

I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways; any way, for Heaven sake, So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers That I perceive death, now I am well awake, Best gift is they can give or I can take....

--Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength Must pull down Heaven upon me:-- Yet stay; Heaven-gates are not so highly arched As princes' palaces; they that enter there Must go upon their knees.--Come, violent death, Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!-- Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They then may feed in quiet.

(JOHN WEBSTER: _The d.u.c.h.ess of Malfi_, IV. ii. 1623.)

"Webster," says Mr. Symonds, "used his metre as the most delicate and responsive instrument for all varieties of dramatic expression....

Scansion in the verse of Webster is subordinate to the purpose of the speaker." (_Blank Verse_, pp. 45-47.) He also calls attention to such remarkable lines as--

"Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young."

"Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out."

Are you not frightened with the imprecations And curses of whole families, made wretched By your sinister practices?-- --Yes, as rocks are, When foamy billows split themselves against Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved, When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.

I am of a solid temper, and, like these, Steer on, a constant course: with mine own sword, If called into the field, I can make that right Which fearful enemies murmured at as wrong.

Now, for these other piddling complaints Breathed out in bitterness; as when they call me Extortioner, tyrant, cormorant, or intruder On my poor neighbor's right, or grand incloser Of what was common, to my private use; Nay, when my ears are pierced with widows' cries, And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold, I only think what 'tis to have my daughter Right honorable; and 'tis a powerful charm Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, Or the least sting of conscience.

(PHILIP Ma.s.sINGER: _A New Way to Pay Old Debts_, IV. i. 1633.)

Ma.s.singer's verse is more regular than that of Fletcher and others, in the matter of extra final syllables and the like, but free and flexible in the use of run-on lines and generally progressive movement.[31] It is an error to a.s.sume that there was no good blank verse written in this period when the drama in general is said to have been in a state of "decadence." The verse of Ford, for example, is noticeably strong and restrained (compare the remark of Mr. Symonds, on its "glittering regularity"). On the other hand, one may see the dramas of Richard Brome for specimens of the decadent metre at its worst. Brome wrote comedies both in prose and verse, and there is little difference between the two forms in his hands. See also the crude and lax verse of some of the early plays of Dryden, ill.u.s.trated on p. 234 below. It was verse of this kind which, as Mr. Gosse observes, justified the introduction of the heroic couplet in all its strictness.

All in a moment through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise into the air With orient colors waving: with them rose A forest huge of spears: and thronging helms Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable: anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders; such as rais'd To height of n.o.blest temper heroes old Arming to battle, and in stead of rage Deliberate valor breath'd, firm and unmov'd With dread of death to flight or foul retreat, Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage With solemn touches, troubl'd thoughts, and chase Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain From mortal or immortal minds....

... And now his heart Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength Glories: for never since created man Met such embodied force, as nam'd with these Could merit more than that small infantry Warr'd on by cranes: though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were joined That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mixed with auxiliar G.o.ds; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptiz'd or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebizond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric sh.o.r.e When Charlemagne with all his peerage fell By Fontarabbia.

(MILTON: _Paradise Lost_, Book I. ll. 544-559; 571-587. 1667.)

With head a while inclined, And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed, Or some great matter in his mind revolved: At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud:-- "Hitherto, Lords, what your commands imposed I have performed, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld; Now, of my own accord, such other trial I mean to show you of my strength, yet greater, As with amaze shall strike all who behold."

This uttered, straining all his nerves he bowed; As with the force of winds and waters pent When mountains tremble, those two ma.s.sy pillars, With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath.

(MILTON: _Samson Agonistes_, ll. 1636-1652. 1671.)

The blank verse of Milton is characterized by greater freedom and flexibility than that of any earlier poet. The single line practically ceases to be the unit of the verse, which is divided rather into metrical paragraphs, or, as some would even call them, stanzas.

Professor Corson quotes an interesting pa.s.sage from a letter of Coleridge, giving an account of a conversation in which Wordsworth expressed his view of this sort of blank verse. "My friend gave his definition and notion of harmonious verse, that it consisted (the English iambic blank verse above all) in the apt arrangement of pauses and cadences, and the sweep of whole paragraphs,

with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out,

and not in the even flow, much less in the prominence or ant.i.thetic vigor of single lines, which were indeed injurious to the total effect, except where they were introduced for some specific purpose." (Corson's _Primer of English Verse_, p. 218.) In like manner Mr. Symonds says: "The most sonorous pa.s.sages begin and end with interrupted lines, including in one organic structure, periods, parentheses, and paragraphs of fluent melody.... In these structures there are many pauses which enable the ear and voice to rest themselves, but none are perfect, none satisfy the want created by the opening hemistich, until the final and deliberate close is reached." (_Blank Verse_ pp. 56, 57.)

In Milton's own prefatory note to _Paradise Lost_, he called his blank verse "English heroic verse without rime." Rime he spoke of as "the invention of a barbarous age, ... graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern poets,"--not least among them, he might have said, being John Milton himself. He described also the special character of his verse in saying that "true musical delight ... consists only in apt numbers, fit quant.i.ty of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another,"--that is, by _enjambement_. "This neglect then of rime so little is to be taken for a defect, ... that it rather is to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the troublesome and modern bondage of riming."[32]

It appears from this note that Milton regarded his heroic blank verse as a different measure from the familiar dramatic blank verse. The latter he used in _Samson Agonistes_, the verse-structure of which will be seen to differ from that of _Paradise Lost_; the most salient distinction is the more frequent use of feminine endings. Mr. Symonds remarks interestingly on the "difference between Shaksperian and Miltonic, between dramatic and epical blank verse. The one is simple in construction and progressive, the other is complex and stationary....

The one exhibits a thought, in the process of formation, developing itself from the excited fancy of the speaker. The other presents to us an image crystallized and perfect in the poet's mind; the one is in time, the other in s.p.a.ce--the one is a growing and the other a complete organism.... The one, if we may play upon a fancy, resembles Music, and the other Architecture." (_Blank Verse_, p. 58.)

Methinks I do not want That huge long train of fawning followers, That swept a furlong after me.

'Tis true I am alone; So was the G.o.dhead, ere he made the world, And better served himself than served by nature.

And yet I have a soul Above this humble fate. I could command, Love to do good, give largely to true merit, All that a king should do; but though these are not My province, I have scene enough within To exercise my virtue.

All that a heart, so fixed as mine, can move, Is, that my n.i.g.g.ard fortune starves my love.

(DRYDEN: _Marriage a la Mode_, III. i. 1672.)

She lay, and leaned her cheek upon her hand, And cast a look so languishingly sweet, As if, secure of all beholders' hearts, Neglecting, she could take them: boys, like Cupids, Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds That played about her face: but if she smiled, A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad, That men's desiring eyes were never wearied, But hung upon the object. To soft flutes The silver oars kept time; and while they played, The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight, And both to thought. 'Twas heaven, or somewhat more;

(DRYDEN: _All for Love_, III. i. 1678.)

The first of these specimens of Dryden's blank verse ill.u.s.trates the loose form of it found in many of the comedies, ill distinguished from prose and used interchangeably with prose, as in the case of the late Jacobean dramatists. It was with _All for Love_ that Dryden dropped the use of the rimed couplet in tragedy, and turned his hand toward the construction of really n.o.ble blank verse. This play was professedly an imitation of Shakspere, and the pa.s.sage here quoted is a paraphrase of one in _Antony and Cleopatra_, II. ii. Shakspere's blank verse doubtless exerted a good influence on the quality of Dryden's. "From this time on," says Mr. Gosse, "Dryden's blank verse was more severe than any which had been used, except by Milton, since Ben Jonson." (_Eighteenth Century Literature_, p. 14.)

Then hear me, bounteous Heaven!

Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head, Where everlasting sweets are always springing: With a continual-giving hand, let peace, Honor, and safety always hover round her; Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er see A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning: Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest Harmless as her own thoughts, and prop her virtue To bear the loss of one that too much loved; And comfort her with patience in our parting....

--Then hear me too, just Heaven!

Pour down your curses on this wretched head, With never-ceasing vengeance; let despair, Danger, or infamy, nay, all surround me.

Starve me with wantings; let my eyes ne'er see A sight of comfort, nor my heart know peace; But dash my days with sorrow, nights with horrors Wild as my own thoughts now, and let loose fury To make me mad enough for what I lose, If I must lose him--if I must! I will not.

(THOMAS OTWAY: _Venice Preserved_, V. ii. 1682.)

This play was one of those marking the return of the serious drama to blank verse, after the brief domination of the couplet on the stage.

While Otway's verse is not as good as Dryden's best, it is of fairly even merit, and shows that something had been learned from the practice of the couplet.

Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!

Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pa.s.s!

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.

Here will I hold. If there's a power above us (And that there is all nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; And that which he delights in must be happy....

... The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the wars of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.

(ADDISON: _Cato_, V. i. ll. 10-18; 25-31. 1713.)

Tell us, ye dead! will none of you, in pity To those you left behind, disclose the secret?

Oh! that some courteous ghost would blab it out,-- What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be.

I've heard that souls departed have sometimes Forewarn'd men of their death. 'Twas kindly done To knock, and give the alarum. But what means This stinted charity? 'Tis but lame kindness That does its work by halves. Why might you not Tell us what 'tis to die? Do the strict laws Of your society forbid your speaking Upon a point so nice? I'll ask no more: Sullen, like lamps in sepulchres, your shine Enlightens but yourselves. Well, 'tis no matter; A very little time will clear up all And make us learn'd as you are, and as close.

(ROBERT BLAIR: _The Grave_. 1743.)

This poem was one of those connected with the revival of blank verse, for didactic poetry, near the middle of the eighteenth century. Of Blair's verse Mr. Saintsbury says that it "is by no means to be despised. Technically its only fault is the use and abuse of the redundant syllable. The quality ... is in every respect rather moulded upon dramatic than upon purely poetical models, and he shows little trace of imitation either of Milton, or of his contemporary, Thomson."

(Ward's _English Poets_, vol. iii. p. 217.)

Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends, At first thin wavering; till at last the flakes Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day With a continual flow. The cherished fields Put on their winter-robe of purest white.

'Tis brightness all; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their h.o.a.r head; and, ere the languid sun Faint from the west emits his evening ray, Earth's universal face, deep-hid and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of man. Drooping, the laborer-ox Stands covered o'er with snow, and then demands The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which Providence a.s.signs them. One alone, The redbreast, sacred to the household G.o.ds, Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and th.o.r.n.y thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half-afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is-- Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.

(THOMSON: _The Seasons; Winter_. 1726.)

Thomson's _Seasons_ was undoubtedly the most influential of the poems of the blank-verse revival of this period. Saintsbury says: "His blank verse in especial cannot receive too much commendation. With that of Milton, and that of the present Poet Laureate [Tennyson], it must rank as one of the chief original models of the metre to be found in English poetry." (Ward's _English Poets_, vol. iii. p. 169.)

Other influential poems of the same period, written in blank verse, were Glover's _Leonidas_ (1737), Young's _Night Thoughts_ (1742-1744), and Akenside's _Pleasures of the Imagination_ (1744). Much earlier than these had come the curious poem of John Philips on _Cider_ (1708).

Philips is praised by Thomson as the successor of Milton in some lines of _Autumn_:

"Philips, Pomona's bard, the second thou Who n.o.bly durst, in rhyme-unfetter'd verse With British freedom sing the British song."