"Deep in a dump John Ford was alone gat,

With folded arms and melancholy hat."

A couplet which brings up the central figure on the title-page to the old edition of the "Anatomy of Melancholy" very vividly before our eyes. His dependence on things out of himself is shown also in his historical play of "Perkin Warbeck," in which, having no very exciting plot to sustain him, he is very gentlemanly and very dull. He does not furnish so many isolated passages which are complete in themselves, a quality remarkable in the old dramatists, among whom only Shakspeare united perfectness of the parts with strict adaptation and harmony of the whole. A play of Shakspeare's seems like one of those basaltic palaces whose roof is supported by innumerable pillars, each formed of many crystals perfect in themselves. To give you you a fair idea of Ford, I will give a sketch of the plot of his most famous tragedy, with a few extracts.

The plot of "The Broken Heart" is simply this. Ithocles, the favorite of Amyclas, king of Laconia, instigated by an ancient feud with Orgilus, the betrothed of his sister Penthea, has forced her to break the match and marry Bassanes. Orgilus, full of an intent to revenge himself at the first chance, pretends a reconcilement with Ithocles, who, meanwhile, has repented of the wrong he had done, and moreover loves and is beloved by Calantha, the king's daughter. Penthea dies mad.

Orgilus murders Ithocles on the eve of his marriage with Calantha, who dies of a broken heart, after naming Nearchus, a former suitor, her successor to the throne. The following scene has great purity and beauty, and withal much sentimentalism in it. Orgilus, in the disguise of a scholar, (a disguise as common now as then,) has gained speech of Penthea. I read only the last part of the scene:

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Org. All pleasures are but mere imagination,
Feeding the hungry appetite with steam,
And sight of banquet, whilst the body pines,
Not relishing the real taste of food :
Such is the leanness of a heart, divided
From intercourse of troth-contracted loves;
No horror should deface that precious figure
Sealed with the lively stamp of equal souls.

"Pen. Away! some fury hath bewitched thy tongue : The breath of ignorance that flies from thence

Ripens a knowledge in me of afflictions,

Above all sufferance. - Thing of talk, begone,
Begone, without reply!

In thy commands; when thou send'st forth a doom

Of banishment, know first on whom it lights.
Thus I take off the shroud, in which my cares

Are folded up from view of common eyes.

[Throws off his scholar's dress.

What is thy sentence next?

"Pen. Rash man! thou lay'st

A blemish on mine honor, with the hazard
Of thy too desperate life; yet I profess,
By all the laws of ceremonious wedlock,
I have not given admittance to one thought
Of female change, since cruelty enforced

Divorce betwixt my body and my heart.

Why would you fall from goodness thus ? "Org. O, rather

Examine me, how I could live to say

I have been much, much wronged. "T is for thy sake I put on this imposture; dear Penthea,

If thy soft bosom be not turned to marble,

Thou 'It pity our calamities; my interest
Confirms me, thou art mine still.

"Pen. Lend your hand;

With both of mine I clasp it thus, thus kiss it,

Thus kneel before ye.

[PENTHEA kneels.

"Org. You instruct my duty.

[ORGILUS kneels.

"Pen. We may stand up. [They rise.] Have you

aught else to urge

Of new demand? as for the old, forget it;

"T is buried in an everlasting silence,

And shall be, shall be ever: what more would you?

66 Org. I would possess my wife; the equity

Of very reason bids me.

"Pen. Is that all?

"Org. Why, 't is the all of me, myself.

Your steps some distance from me; at this pace

A few words I dare change; but first put on
Your borrowed shape.

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Org. You are obeyed; 't is done.

[He resumes his disguise. "Pen. How, Orgilus, by promise, I was thine, The heavens do witness; they can witness, too, A rape done on my truth: how I do love thee Yet, Orgilus, and yet, must best appear In tendering thy freedom; for I find The constant preservation of thy merit, By thy not daring to attempt my fame

- With injury of any loose conceit,

Which might give deeper wounds to discontents.
Continue this fair race; then, though I cannot

Add to thy comfort, yet I shall more often
Remember from what fortune I am fallen,
And pity mine own ruin. Live, live happy,
Happy in thy next choice, that thou may'st people
This barren age with virtues in thy issue!
And, O, when thou art married, think on me
With mercy, not contempt; I hope thy wife,
Hearing my story, will not scorn my fall.—
Now let us part.

"Org. Part! yet advise thee better: Penthea is the wife to Orgilus,

And ever shall be.

"Pen. Never shall, nor will.

"Org. How!

"Pen. Hear me ; in a word I'll tell thee why, The virgin-dowry which my birth bestowed,

Is ravished by another; my true love
Abhors to think, that Orgilus deserved

No better favors than a second bed.

"Org. I must not take this reason.
"Pen. To confirm it;

Should I outlive my bondage, let me meet
Another worse than this, and less desired,
If, of all men alive, thou shouldst but touch
My lip or hand again!

"Org. Penthea, now

I tell you, you grow wanton in my sufferance;
Come, sweet, thou art mine.

"Pen. Uncivil Sir, forbear,

Or I can turn affection into vengeance;
Your reputation, if you value any,
Lies bleeding at my feet. Unworthy man,
If ever henceforth thou appear in language,

Message, or letter, to betray my frailty,
I'll call thy former protestations lust,

And curse my stars for forfeit of my judgment.
Go thou, fit only for disguise, and walks,
To hide thy shame; this once I spare thy life.
I laugh at mine own confidence; my sorrows
By thee are made inferior to my fortunes:
If ever thou didst harbour worthy love,

Dare not to answer. My good genius guide me,
That I may never see thee more! - Go from me!
"Org. I'll tear my veil of politic French off,
And stand up like a man resolved to do: —
Action, not words, shall show me.- O Penthea!

[Exit.

"Pen. He sighed my name sure, as he parted from me ;

I fear I was too rough. Alas, poor gentleman!

He looked not like the ruins of his youth,

But like the ruins of those ruins. Honor,

How much we fight with weakness to preserve thee !

[Walks aside."

To my mind, Penthea's last speech is the best part of the scene. In the first part, she shows an apparently Roman virtue, but there seems to be a savor of prudery, and a suspicion of its own strength in it, which a truly courageous honor and chastity would be the last to entertain.

None of our dramatists but Shakspeare have been able to paint madness. Most of their attempts. that way are failures; they grow silly and mopingly sentimental; they utter a great deal of such stuff as nobody in his senses would utter, and as nobody out of them could have the ingenious leisure to invent. Here is a specimen of Ford's

mania :