ffect. His gorgeous imagination and his daring remind us of Marlowe; the leave-taking of Petronius is certainly worthy of Marlowe. He is like Marlowe, too, in another way,--he has no comic power and (wiser, in this respect, than Ford) is aware of his deficiency. We find in Nero none of those touches of swift subtle pathos that dazzle us in the _Duchess of Malfy_; but we find strokes of sarcasm no less keen and trenchant. Sometimes in the ring of the verse and in turns of expression, we seem to catch Shakespearian echoes; as here--
"Staid men suspect their wisedome or their faith, To whom our counsels we have not reveald; And while (our party seeking to disgrace) They traitors call us, each man treason praiseth _And hateth faith, when Piso is a traitor_." (iv. i);
or here--
"'Cause you were lovely therefore did I love: O, if to Love you anger you so much, You should not have such cheekes nor lips to touch: You should not have your snow nor curral spy'd;--
