down to G. C. Macaulay, Herford, and Alden of the present day. No reader, even the most cursory, can fail to be impressed by the completeness of that one line (in his lament for Elizabeth Sidney), Sorrow can make a verse without a Muse,-- by the 'unassuming beauty' of Viola's loneliness (in his subplot of _The Coxcombe_), All things have cast me from 'em but the earth. The evening comes, and every little flower Droops now as well as I;-- by the sublimity of those few words to the repentant lover, All the forgiveness I can make you is to love you;-- by the superb simplicity of Bellario's scorn of life, in _Philaster_, 'T is but a piece of childhood thrown away, and the finality of her definition of death (which, as if in premonition of his too sudden fate, is characteristic of Beaumont),-- 'T is less than to be born; a lasting sleep; A quiet resting from all jealousy, A thing we all pursue; I know, besides, It is but giving over of a game That must be lost;-- by the pathetic irony of Aspatia's farewell to love in _The Maides Tragedy_, So with my prayers I leave you, and must try Some yet-unpractis'd way to grieve and die; and the heroism (in _Cupid's Revenge_, the final scene, undoubtedly of Beaumont's verse) of Urania's confession to Leucippus, I would not let you know till I was dying; For you could not love me, my mother was so naught; by Panthea's cry of horror, in _A King and No King_, I feel a sin growing upon my blood; and by those flashes of incomparable verity that intensify the gloom of _The Maides Tragedy_: Amintor's Those have most power to hurt us, that we love; We lay our sleeping lives within their arms; and after Evadne's death, My soul grows weary of her house, and I All over am a trouble to myself;-- by the wounded Aspatia's I shall sure live, Amintor, I am well; A kind of healthful joy wanders within me; and her parting whisper, Give me thy hand; mine eyes grope up and down, And cannot find thee. This is Nature sobbing into verse: the unadorned poetry of the human heartbreak. Where other than in Shakespeare do we find among the Jacobean poets such verse? That a style of this kind should be rich in apothegm is not surprising. Instances rare in wisdom and phrasal conciseness are to be encountered on every other page of Beaumont.