“O, my lord, lie not idle: The chiefest action for a man of great spirit Is never to be out of action. We should think The soul was never put into the body, Which has so many rare and curious pieces Of mathematical motion, to stand still. Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds; I’ th’ trenches for the soldiers, i’ th’ wakeful study For the scholar, in the furrows of the sea For men of our profession, of all which Arise and spring up honour.” This recalls to mind the speech of Ulysses to Achilles in “Troilus and Cressida,” a piece of eloquence which, for the impetuous charge of serried argument and poetic beauty of illustration, grows more marvellous with every reading. But it is hardly fair to any other poet to let him remind us of Shakespeare. Contarino, on leaving Romelio, goes to Leonora, the mother, who immediately conceives a violent passion for him. He, by way of a pretty compliment, tells her that he has a suit to her, and that it is for her picture. By this he meant her daughter, but with the flattering implication that you would not know the parent from the child. Leonora, of course, takes him literally, is gracious accordingly, and Contarino is satisfied that he has won her consent also. This scene gives occasion for a good example of Webster’s more playful style, which is perhaps worth quoting. Still apropos of her portrait, Leonora says:-- “You will enjoin me to a strange punishment. With what a compelled face a woman sits While she is drawing! I have noted divers Either to feign smiles, or suck in the lips To have a little mouth; ruffle the cheeks To have the dimple seen; and so disorder The face with affectation, at next sitting It has not been the same: I have known others Have lost the entire fashion of their face In half an hour’s sitting.... But indeed If ever I would have mine drawn to th’ life, I’d have a painter steal it at such a time I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers; There’s then a heavenly beauty in ’t; the soul Moves in the superficies.” The poet shows one of his habitual weaknesses here in being so far tempted by the chance of saying a pretty thing as to make somebody say it who naturally would not. There is really a worse waste than had it been thrown away. I am inclined to think men as vain about their portraits as Leonora makes women to be, or else the story of Cromwell’s wart would not be so famous. However, Contarino goes away satisfied with the result of his embassy, saying to himself:-- “She has got some intelligence how I intend to marry Her daughter, and ingenuously perceived That by her picture, which I begged of her, I meant the fair Jolenta.”