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-(15) Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.

Harmless Innocence,

Enter Imogen. Imo. (16) Good masters, harm me not ; Before I enter'd here, I calld; and thought To have begg’d, or bought, what I have took ; good

troth, I have stoln nought, nor would not, though I had

found Gold strew'd i'th'floor. Here's



my meat,
I would have left it on the board fo foon
As I had made my meal, and parted
With prayers for the provider.

Guid. Money, youth!
Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.

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Braggart. (17) To whom to thee? What art thou? Have

not I


(15) Wcariness, &c.] See Hen. IV. 2d part, Act 1. Sc. 2.

(16) Good masters, &c.] See As you like it, Act 2. Sc. 8. where Orlando, like Imogen, distrest for food, humbly and pathetically addresses himself to the duke and his company. (17) To whom, &c.] -Turn away my face !

I never yet law enemy that lopk'd

An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ?
Thy words, I grant, are bigger: for I wear not
My dagger in ny mouth.
SCENE IV. Fool Hardiness.

-Being scarce made up,
I mean to man; he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors ; for defect of judgment
Is oft the (18) cure of fear.

Inborn Royalty.

-0, thou goddess, Thou divine nature ; how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys: they are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet, as rough (Their royal blood enchaf’d), as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful, That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other; valour, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sow’d. Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her

in his Arms. Bel. Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms,


So dreadfully, but that I thought myself
As great a basilisk as he : or spake
So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
Both thunder underneath as much as his.

Philaster, Act z. (18) Cure, Oxford editor, vuig. cause. Mr. Theobald reads,

-For th' effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear.-

Of what we blame him for!

Aru. The bird is dead
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipt from fixteen years of age, to sixty;
To have turn’d my leaping time into a crutcha,
Than have seen this.

Guid. Oh, sweeteit, faireit lilly!
My brother wears thee .not one half so well,
As when thou grew'it thyself.

Bel. Oh, melancholy,
Who ever yet could found thy bottoin ; find
The ooze to Thew what coast (19) thy sluggish care


(19) Thy. Nuggish care,] Mr. Warburton tells us, plausible as this reading at first light may seem, all tkole who kuotiavy thing of good writing, will agree that our author malt have wruit,

To Thew what coast thy Nuggish carrack

Might eas'liest harbour in. Carrack, is a Now, heavy-built vessel of burden. To this conjee: ture, Mr. Theołald, and the Oxford editor, yield up Slakespear's word, and admit carrack in the text. I with, for my own fake, I could be satisfied with it, as by not being so, I mult necessarily incur he critic's cenfure of knowing nothing of good writing; howe ever, I must confess, the word immediately founds to me not like Shakespear's: and whatever propriety there may be in it,' according to Mr. Warburton, “ to design a melancholy perfon,' I can by no means think it our author's : a much more natural word, (was there need of alteration) perhaps many readers would have thought bark: yet that, nor any other seems necefsary to the sense and beauty of the passage. :: Oh, melancholy, (thou deep fea) who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? who ever yet could find the ooze, to shew what coast thy sluggish care (or charge) might eas'lieft harbour in?' Melancholy is represented unto us under the allegory of a deep sea, and the grief or affliction that occasions the falling into melancholy, is beautifully fupposed its Nuggish ca“, its burden or charge failing over that sea, and seeking some harbour to land, i. e. to get free from the wa. ters of melancholy: which the poet, hy a beautiful interrogation, acquaints us, cannot be done : when once forrow en.barks, and grief launches her heavy-icden vefsel in the ocean of melancholy, no botton is to be found, no harhour to be made, no deliverance to be obtained this fathomless and boundless sea.This ap

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Might eas’liest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou mightít have made: but ah!
Thou dy'dít, a most rare boy, of melancholy!
How found


him? Arv. Stark, as you Thus smiling as some fly had tickled slumber;' Not as death's dart being laugh'd at: his right check Repofing on a cushion.

Guid. Where?

Arv, O'th' floor :
His arms thus leagu'd, I thought he flept, and
My clotted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Guid. Why, he but fleeps:
If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed ;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come near thee.

Arv. With faireft flowers,
Whilft suinmer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy fad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flow'r that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azurd hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath ; the raddock would
With charitable bill (oh, bill fore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument) bring thee all this,
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flow'rs are none,
To (20) winter-ground thy corse-


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pears to me the true, and, I think, exquisitely fine sense of the passage : the reader will be the best judge, still remembering if pollible, we should elevate our ideas to those of our author, and not correct him to a level with our own apprehenfions when we cannot enter into his spirit: my attempt, at least upon this confideration, will be excused, and (if I am mistaken) my mistakes obtain a pardon.

(20) Winter-ground.] Mr. Warburton difpleased at this would read Winter-gown: the reading in the text makes good sense, and, is, I think, therefore to be preferred.

Bel. Great griefs I see med'cine the less. For Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys, And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: the mean, and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust, yet (21) reverence, The angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place 'twixt high and low. Our foe was princely, And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince.

Guid. Pray thee, fetch him hither. Therfites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive.

Funeral Dirge.

Guid. Fear no more the heat o'th'sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages ;
Thou thy worldly talk haft

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must

As chimney-sweepers come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o'th'great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke,
Care no more to cloath and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak :
The sceptre, learning, physic, must

All follow this and come to dust.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning flash.
Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone.
Guid. Fear no flander, censure rash,
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan.

Imogen awaking Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven, which is the way? I thank you—by yond buih--pray, how far thither?-'Ods pitikins-can it be fix miles yet?

I've (21) · Roverence.] See the passage on Ceremony, in Henry V.


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