THE COUNTRY.-Master Perlin does not confine his observations to the towns and cities, of which he says there are not more than twenty-five inclosed with walls and ditches. "The country is well covered and shady, for the lands are all inclosed with hedges, oaks, and several other sorts of trees, so that in travelling you think you are in a perpetual wood, but you will discover many flights of steps, which are called in English amphores [stiles], and by which persons on foot go along little paths and enter the grounds; persons on horseback do not go thus, but go on the high road between trees and bushes. In this country there are no shepherds who generally keep the sheep, but they usually leave them in the woods morning and evening, and in the open fields. He tells us, moreover, that "the English are excellent at all sorts of fruits, as apricots and peaches." "The people are all armed; and the laborers, when they till the ground, leave their swords and their bows in a corner of the field." We conclude with Master Perlin's last words, "And this is enough about England." 138. THE MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON. CHARLES LAMB, who speaks of this play with a warmth of admiration which is probably carried a little too far, and which, indeed, may in some degree be attributed to his familiarity with the quiet rural scenery of Enfield, Waltham, Cheshunt, and Edmonton, in which places the story is laid, says, "I wish it could be ascertained that Michael Drayton was the author of this piece: it would add a worthy appendage to the renown of that panegyrist of my native earth; who has gone over her soil (in his Polyolbion) with the fidelity of a herald, and the painful love of a son; who has not left a rivulet (so narrow that it may be stepped over) without honorable mention; and has animated hills and streams with life and passion above the dreams of old mythology.") Some have attributed this play to Shakspeare. "The Merry Devil" was undoubtedly a play of great popularity. We find, from the account-books of the Revels at court, that it was acted before the king in the same year, 1618, with "Twelfth-Night," and "Winter's Tale." In 1616, Ben Jonson, in his pro logue to "The Devil is an Ass," thus addresses his audience :— If you'll come To see new plays, pray you afford us room, And show this but the same face you have Your dear delight, the "Devil of Edmonton." Its popularity seems to have lasted much longer; for it is mentioned by Ed. mund Gayton, in 1654, in his "Notes on Don Quixote." The belief that the play was Shakspere's has never taken any root in England. Some of the recent German critics, however, adopt it as his without any hesitation. Fuller, in his "Worthies," thus records the merits of Peter Fabel, the hero of this play:-"I shall probably offend the gravity of some to insert, and certainly the curiosity of others to omit, him. Some make him a friar, others a lay gentleman, all a conceited person, who, with his merry devices, deceived the devil, who by grace may be resisted, not deceived by wit. If a grave bishop in his sermon, speaking of Brute's coming into this land, said it was but a bruit, I hope I may say without offence that this Fabel was but a fable, supposed to live in the reign of King Henry the Sixth." His fame is more confidingly recorded in the prologue to "The Merry Devil:"— 'Tis Peter Fabel, a renowned scholar, In Middlesex his birth and his abode, Not full seven miles from this great famous city; If any here make doubt of such a name, In Edmonton, yet fresh unto this day, His memory yet in the mouths of men, That whilst he lived he could deceive the devil. The prologue goes on to suppose him at Cambridge at the hour when the term of his compact with the fiend is run out. We are not here to look for the terrible solemnity of the similar scene in Marlowe's "Faustus;" but, nevertheless, that before us is written with great poetical power. Coreb, the spirit, thus addresses the magician: Coreb. Why, scholar, this is the hour my Coreb. Fabel, thyself. date expires; Fabel. O let not darkness hear thee speak that word, And leave the world to look upon my woe: I may again, in time, yet hope to rise." While the fiend sits down in the necromantic chair, Fabel thus solilo quizes:— Fabel. O that this soul, that cost so dear a price When men in their own praise strive to know more For this alone God cast the angels down. The infinity of arts is like a sea, Into which when man will take in hand to sail Man, striving still to find the depth of evil, But the magician has tricked the fiend; the chair holds him fast, and the condition of release is a respite for seven years. The supernatural part of the play may be said here to end, and we are introduced to the society of no equiv ocal mortal, the host of the George, at Waltham. Sir Arthur Clare, his wife Dorcas, his daughter Millisent, and his son Harry, arrive at the inn, where the host says, "Knights and lords have been drunk in my house, I thank the destinies." This company have arrived at the George to meet Sir Richard Mounchensey, and his son Raymond, to whom Millisent is betrothed; but old Clare informs his wife that he is resolved to break off the match, to send his laughter for a year to a nunnery, and then to bestow her upon the son of Sir Ralph Jerningham. Old Mounchensey, it seems, has fallen upon evil days: Clare. For look you, wife, the riotous old knight In keeping jolly Christmas all the year: Fabel, the kind magician, who has been the tutor to Raymond, arrives at the same time with the Mounchensey party. He knows the plots against his young friend, and he is determined to circumvent them : Raymond Mounchensey, boy, have thou and I Thus long at Cambridge read the liberal arts, Watch'd on the top of Peter-house highest tower, For want of skill to lose the wench thou lov'st? I'll make the brinned sea to rise at Ware, And drown the marshes unto Stratford-bridge; He shall cross the devil that but crosses me. Harry Clare, Ralph Jerningham, and Raymond Mounchensey, are strict friends; and there is something exceedingly delightful in the manner in which Raymond throws away all suspicion, and the others resolve to stand by their friend whatever be the intrigues of their parents : * Envil-Enfield. Jern. Raymond Mounchensey, now I touch thy grief With the true feeling of a zealous friend. And as for fair and beauteous Millisent, With my vain breath I will not seek to slubber I will abjure both beauty and her sight, Moun. Dear Jerningham, thou hast begot my life, |