Jonson's blank verse, says Mr. Symonds, is that "of a scholar--pointed, polished, and free from the lyricisms of his age. It lacks harmony and is often labored; but vigorous and solid it never fails to be." He also instances the opening lines of the _Sad Shepherd_ as exceptional in their "delicate music." Beaumont's verse is in many ways similar in structure to Jonson's, yet commonly more melodious. "He is all (As he stands now) but the mere name of Cæsar, And should the Emperor enforce him lesser, Not coming from himself, it were more dangerous: He is honest, and will hear you. Doubts are scattered, And almost come to growth in every household; Yet, in my foolish judgment, were this mastered, The people, that are now but rage, and his, Might be again obedience. You shall know me When Rome is fair again; till when, I love you." No name! This may be cunning; yet it seems not, For there is nothing in it but is certain, Besides my safety. Had not good Germanicus, That was as loyal and as straight as he is, If not prevented by Tiberius, Been by the soldiers forced their emperor? He had, and 'tis my wisdom to remember it: And was not Corbulo (even that Corbulo, That ever fortunate and living Roman, That broke the heart-strings of the Parthians, And brought Arsaces' line upon their knees, Chained to the awe of Rome), because he was thought (And but in wine once) fit to make a Cæsar, Cut off by Nero? I must seek my safety; For 'tis the same again, if not beyond it. (FLETCHER: _Valentinian_, IV. i. ab. 1615.) I can but grieve my ignorance: Repentance, some say too, is the best sacrifice; For sure, sir, if my chance had been so happy (As I confess I was mine own destroyer) As to have arrived at you, I will not prophesy, But certain, as I think, I should have pleased you; Have made you as much wonder at my courtesy, My love and duty, as I have disheartened you. Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly; And being free-born maids, we take a liberty, And, to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.... A sullen woman fear, that talks not to you; She has a sad and darkened soul, loves dully; A merry and a free wench, give her liberty, Believe her, in the lightest form she appears to you, Believe her excellent, though she despise you; Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will show to you As jewels rubbed from dust, or gold new burnished. (FLETCHER: _The Wild-Goose Chase_, IV. i. 1621.)