I should not wonder if it had been written by Decker. It has all his humor, moral sweetness, and flow.

An old song made by an aged old pate
Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate,
That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate,
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ;

Like an old courtier of the queen's,
And the queen's old courtier.

With an old lady, whose anger one word assuages,
That every quarter paid their old servants their wages,
And never knew what belong'd to coachmen, footmen, nor pages,
But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges ;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old study fill'd full of learned old books ;
With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks ;
With an old buttery hatch, worn quite off the hooks;
And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old cooks ;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old hall hung about with pikes, guns, and bows;
With old swords, and bucklers, that had borne many shrewd blows,
And an old frieze coat to cover his worship’s trunk hose ;
and a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose ;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come,
To call in all his old neighbors with bagpipe and drum,
With good cheer enough to furnish every old room,
And old liquor able to make a cat speak and a man dumb;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds,
That never hawk'd, nor hunted, but in his own grounds,
Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own bounds,
And when he died, gave every child a thousand good pounds ;

Like an old courtier, &c.

But to his eldest son his house and land he assign'd,
Charging him in his will to keep the old bountiful mind,
To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbors be kind;
But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclin'd.

Like a young courtier of the king's,
And the king's young courtier.

Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command,
And takes up a thousand pounds upon his father's land,
And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go nor stand;

Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and spare,
Who never knew what belong'd to good house-keeping, or care,
Who buys gaudy-color'd fans to play with a wanton air,
And seven or eight different dressings of other women's hair ;

Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new-fashion'd hall, built where the old one stood,
Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no good;
With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns neither coal nor wooul,
And a new smooth shovel-board, whereon no victuals ne'er stooa ;

Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new study, stuft full of pamphlets and plays,
And a new chaplain, that swears faster than he prays;
With a new buttery hatch, that opens once in four or five days,
And a new French cook, to devise fine kickshaws and toys;

Like a young courtier, &c.


With a new fashion, when Christmas is drawing on,
On a new journey to London straight we all must be gone,
And leave none to keep house but our new porter John,
Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back with a stone,

Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new gentleman usher, whose carriage is complete;
With a new coachman, footmen, and pages to carry up the meat;
With a waiting gentlewoman, whose dressing is very neat,
Who, when her lady has din'd, lets the servants not eat;

Like a young courtier, &c.

With new titles of honor bought with his father's old gold
For which sundry of his ancestors' old manors are sold;
And this is the course most of our new gallants hold,
Which makes that good house-keeping is now grown so cold,

Among our young courtiers of the king,
Or the king's young courtiers


BORN, 1605—DIED, 1634.

Thomas RANDOLPH, who died fellow of Trinity College, Cam. bridge, aged twenty-nine, was one of the favorite disciples of Ben Jonson. He had a vein of comedy gayer and more natural than his master's, which might have rendered him a favorite with posterity, had he outlived the influence of his training. He had as much learning for his time of life, more animal spirits, and appears to have been very amiable. His brother collected and published his writings, with an introduction full of love and respect. He lost a finger once in endeavoring to part two combatants; and, instead of bewailing the mishap, turned it into a subject for epigram, and said he hoped to “shake hands with it in heaven.”

Randolph's best known play, the Muses' Looking-Glass, which is to be found in late collections of the old drama, is singularly full of life, considering it is one continued allegory, and didactic withal. And his dramatic pastoral, called Amyntas, or the Innpossible Dowry (from an imaginary fairy investiture), deserves to be known quite as well, for its gaiety and graceful fancy. If he had but understood “the art of arts, the art to blot,” he would have been popular to this day. But who did, in his time, even the greatest? Who thoroughly understands it any time? And what heaps of inferior poets have since gone, and are going, to oblivion, who took him doubtless for some obsolete gentleman, oppressed with a quaint love of talking, while they fancied their own garrulity to be the right “ soul of wit ?

In the following scene from the Muses' Looking-Glass, the poet, under the Greek names of Deilus, Aphobus, and Colax, presents us with caricatures of Fear, Rashness, and Flattery The excessive double-dealing of Flattery, in his asides to the two others, is very ludicrous; and the extravagances of Fear have a foundation in truth, not unworthy to stand side by side with the honest poltrooneries of the hero in John Paul.*

FEAR, RASHNESS, AND FLATTERY. DEILUS undergoes paroxysms of terror from the near conversation of

APHOBUS.-Colax (aside) adulates them both ; but ultimately rids himself of their company, on finding that he gets nothing by it.

Deilus. Good Aphobus, no more such terrible stories :
I would not for a world lie alone to-night:
I shall have such strange dreams !

What can there be
That I should fear? The gods ? if they be good,
'Tis sin to fear them: if not good, no gods ;
And then let them fear me, Or are they devils
That must affright me!

Devils ! where, good Aphobus ?
I thought there was some conjuring abroad ;
'Tis such a terrible wind! O here it is;
Now it is here again ! O still, still, still.

Apho. What is the matter ?

Still it follows me !
The thing in black, behind ; soon as the sun
But shines, it haunts me? Gentle spirit, leave me !
Cannot you lay him? What ugly looks it has !
With eyes as big as saucers, nostrils wider
Than barbers' basons !

It is nothing, Deilus,
But your weak fancy that from every object
Draws arguments of fear. This terrible black thing

Deil. Where is it, Aphobus?

Is but your shadow, Deilus.
Deil. And should we not fear shadows ?

No, why should we !
Deil. Who knows but they come leering after us,
To steal away the substance ?! Watch him, Aphobus.
Apho. I fear nothing.

Colax. (aside to APHOBUS) I do commend your valor,
That fixes your great soul fast as a centre,
Not to be mov'd with dangers. Let slight cock-boats

Vide Mr Carlyle's admirable translation of Tales from the German

Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firm
Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardness
Rebeats the fury of the raging sea,
Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue
A low degenerate soul.

Deil. (In answer to APHOBUS) Now I fear everything..
Colar. (aside to Deilus) 'Tis your discretion. Everything has dan.

And therefore everything is to be feared.
I do applaud this wisdom. 'Tis a symptom
Of wary providence. His too confident rashness

[Secretly making a gestire towards APHOBUS
Argues a stupid ignorance in the soul,
A blind and senseless judgment. Give me fear
To man the fort ; 'tis such a circumspect
And wary sentinel ; but daring valor,
Uncapable of danger, sleeps securely,
And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.

Deil. What, are they landed ?


The enemies
That Colax talks of.

If they be, I care not;
Though they be giants all, and arm'd with thunder.

Deil. Why, do you not fear thunder ?

Thunder? No!
No more than squibs and crackers.

Squibs and crackers !
I hope there be none here! s'lid, squibs and crackers!~
The mere epitomes of the gunpowder treason!
Faux in a lesser volume.*

Let fools gaze
At bearded stars. It is all one to me,
As if they had been shav'd. Thus, thus would I
Out-beard a meteor; for I might as well
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.

Deil. Is there a comet, say you ? Nay, I saw it;
It reach'd from Paul's to Charing, and portends
Some certain imminent danger to the inhabitants
'Twixt those two places. I'll go get a lodging
Out of its influence.'

Will that serve you ?-I fear
It threatens general ruin to the kingdom.

Deil. I'll to some other country.

There is danger
To cross the seas.

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