{Bonduca the British queen, taking occasion from a defeat of the Romans to impeach their valor, is rebuked by Caratac.} Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve your fortune. If I grieve, '…
Beaumont and Fletcher were the English dramatists Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, who collaborated in their writing during the reign of James I (he reigned in England 1603-1625) When the first collected folio of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, containing a masque and some thirty-four plays, none of the latter having previously been printed, was published in 1647, long after the deaths of its authors, no attempt was made to discriminate between the parts of the famous collaborators; nor did the 1679 folio, in spite of its eighteen additional plays, suggest that a separation was desirable or feasible. But recent investigation has tended more and more strongly toward such a distinction, until, for instance, C.M. Gayley in his Beaumont the Dramatist is sure of only six plays as the joint product of Swinburne's Castor and Pollux of the English drama--although E.H.C. Oliphant in his The Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher prefers eight and allows the two men three more with the assistance of Massinger. Moreover, contrary to the older impression growing out of the longer dramatic career and larger output of Fletcher, virtually all modern critics insist that Beaumont was the greater dramatist. But the disentangling of the web has not ended here, since the hands of Massinger and Field, not to mention those of William Rowley, Shirley, Shakespeare, and others have been identified in a considerable part of the work which for many years masqueraded under the label of "Beaumont and Fletcher." The whole situation provides a striking commentary on the conditions of Elizabethan dramatic publication and authorship.)
Beaumont and Fletcher şiirleri
Sweet prince, the name of Death was never terrible To him that knew to live; nor the loud torrent Of all afflictions, singing as they swim, A gall of heart, but to a guilty conscie…
Shepherds all, and maidens fair, Fold your flocks up; for the air 'Gins to thicken, and the sun Already his great course hath run.…
Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew, Maidens, willow branches bear, Say I died true.…
Sitting in my window, Pointing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, (I thought, but it was you,) enter our gates; My blood flew out and back again, as fast…
Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! There's nought in this life sweet,…
Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to death; sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince; fall, like a cloud, In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud…
Shake off your heavy trance, And leap into a dance, Such as no mortals use to tread, Fit only for Apollo -…
O divine star of Heaven, Thou in power above the seven; Thou, O gentle Queen, that art Curer of each wounded heart,…
Shepherds, rise, and shake off sleep - See the blushing morn doth peep Through your windows, while the sun To the mountain-tops has run,…