_Parasitaster, or the Fawn_, published in 1606, takes us again to Italy, and once more we have to listen to a satirical exposure of the courtiers' vices and follies. In spite of occasional tediousness the play is interesting. Dulcimel, Gonzago's witty daughter, who gulls her self-conceited old father by a pretended discovery of Tiberio's love for her, and succeeds by her blandishments in converting the young misogynist into a perfervid wooer, is a delightfully attractive heroine. The stratagem employed by Dulcimel is of ancient date: it is found in Terence's _Adelphi_, Boccaccio's _Decameron_ (third tale of the third day), and Molière's _L'École des Maris_. I am half inclined to suspect that Marston was slily glancing at the "wise fool" King James in the person of the silly and pedantic Gonzago; and it is probable that some social scandals of the time afforded material for the description of the intrigues of Gonzago's courtiers. Granuffo, who gains a reputation for wisdom by never opening his mouth, might possibly be made an amusing character by an actor skilled in facial contortions; but the humour of the thing is not very apparent in print. Signior No in the _Noble Spanish Soldier_ (attributed to Samuel Rowley, though the play may properly belong to Dekker), and Littleword in Nabbes' _Covent Garden_, are somewhat similar characters. The address _To the Equal Reader_, prefixed to _Parasitaster_, is excellently written, and exhibits Marston in a very pleasant light. "For mine own interest for once," he writes, with a frankness which is not without a touch of pathos, "let this be printed,--that of men of my own addiction I love most, pity some, hate none; for let me truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving them, and surely I shall ever rest so constant to my first affection, that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous whisperings, never so treacherously labour to undermine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as long as I have being) love the least of their graces and only pity the greatest of their vices." A candid and creditable avowal, but, alas, "words is wind and wind is mutable." In the second edition there follows a briefer address, in which the writer promises to "present a tragedy which shall boldly abide the most curious perusal;" and from a marginal note we learn that the tragedy of _Sophonisba_, published in 1606, was the work which was so boldly to challenge criticism. It is to be feared that this cherished offspring of Marston's imagination will not be regarded with affection by many readers. For hideous blood-curdling realism the description of the witch Erictho and her cave is, I venture to think, without a parallel in literature. Tough as whipcord must have been the nerves of an audience which could listen patiently to the recital of Erictho's atrocities. If there were any women of delicate health among the audience, a repetition of the mishaps connected with the performance of the _Eumenides_ must surely have