less ethereal perfection of the original, it suffers far less than the earlier work by comparison with the Italian.  For the same reasons it is by far the most satisfactory of any of the early translations of the Italian pastoral drama.  One noticeable feature is the constant reminiscence of Shakespeare, whole lines from his works being sometimes introduced with no small skill.  For instance, where Guarini, describing how love wins entrance to a maiden’s heart, writes: 

    E se vergogna il cela,
    O temenza l’ affrena,
    La misera tacendo
    Per soverchio desio tutta si strugge; (I. iv.)

Fanshawe renders the last two lines by: 

Poor soul!  Concealment like a worm i’ th’ bud,
Lies in her Damask cheek sucking the bloud.

A few illustrative passages will suffice to give an idea of Fanshawe’s style.  He stands alone in having succeeded in recrystallizing in his own tongue some at least of the charm of the kissing match, and is even fairly successful in the following dangerous conceit: 

              With one voice
    Of peerlesse Amarillis they made choice. 
    She sweetly bending her fair eyes. 
    Her cheeks in modest blushes dyes,
    To shew through her transparent skin
    That she is no lesse fair within
    Then shee’s without; or else her countenance
    Envying the honour done her mouth perchance,
    Puts on her scarlet robes as who
    Should say:  ‘And am not I fair too?’ (II. i.)

So again he alone among the translators has infused any semblance of passion into Amarillis’ confession of love: 

Mirtillo, O Mirtillo! couldst thou see
That heart which thou condemn’st of cruelty,
Soul of my soul, thou unto it wouldst show
That pity which thou begg’st from it I know. 
O ill starr’d Lovers! what avails it me
To have thy love?  T’ have mine, what boots it thee? 

          
                                                                                        (III. iv.)

In a lighter vein the following variation on the theme of fading beauty by
Corisca also does justice to its original: 

Let us use it whilst wee may;
Snatch those joyes that haste away. 
Earth her winter-coat may cast,
And renew her beauty past;
But, our winter come, in vain
We sollicite spring again: 
And when our furrows snow shall cover,
Love may return, but never Lover. (III. v.)

When it is borne in mind that not only is the rendering graceful in itself, but that as a rule it represents its original if not literally at any rate adequately, it will be realized that Fanshawe’s qualifications as a translator are not small.  His version, which is considerably the best in the language, is happily easily accessible owing to its early popularity.  It first appeared in 1647 in the form of a handsomely printed quarto with portrait and frontispiece engraved