cr

66

Enter the Duke, Curio, and Lords.

I

DUKE.

F mufick be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it; that, furfeiting
The appetite, Love may ficken, and fo

die.

* That ftrain again

[fall: it had a dying "O, it came o'er my ear, like the fweet fouth,

that, furfeiting

"That

The appetite may ficken, and fo die.] There is an impropriety of expreffion in the prefent reading of this fine paffage. We do not fay, that the appetite fickens and dies thro' a furfeit; but the fubject of that appetite. I am perfuaded, a word is accidentally dropt; and that we fhould read, and point, the paffage thus, that, furfeiting

The app'tite, LOVE may ficken, and fo die. 2 That ftrain again;-it had a dying fall: O! it came d'er my ear, like the feet fouth,

13

That

"That breathes upon a bank of violets,

"Stealing, and giving odour. Enough!-no more; 'Tis not fo fweet now, as it was before.

O fpirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the fea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch foe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute; 3 fo full of fhapes in fancy,
That it alone is hight fantastical.

Cur.

That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour ] Amongst the beauties of this charming fimilitude, its exact propriety is not the leaft. For, as a fouth wind, while blowing over a violet-bank, wafts away the odour of the flowers, it, at the fame time, communicates its own sweetness to it; fo the foft affecting mufick, here described, tho' it takes away the natural, sweet, tranquillity of the mind, yet, at the fame time, it communicates a new pleasure to it. Or, it may allude to another property of mufick, where the fame ftrains have a power to excite pain or pleasure, as the ftate is, in which it finds the hearer. Hence Milton makes the felf-fame ftrains of Orpheus proper to excite both the affections of mifth and melancholy, juft as the mind is then difpofed. If to mirth, he calls for fuch mufick,

.

That Orpheus felf may heave his head
From golden flumbers on a bed

Of heapt Elyfian flowers, and hear

Such firains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free

His half regain'd Eurydice.

L'allegro.

If to melancholy

Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing

Such notes as warbled to the firing,

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,

And made Hell grant what love did seek. Il penferofo.

3 So full of shapes is fancy,

That it alone is HIGH fantaftical.] This complicated nonfenfe

Thould be rectified thus,

So full of shapes IN fancy,

That it alone is HIGHT fantastical,

i. e. love is fo full of fhapes in fancy, that the name of fantastical is

peculiarly given to it alone.

But,

Cur. Will you go hunt, my Lord?.
Duke. What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, fo I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when my Eyes did fee Olivia first,
Methought, the purg'd the air of peftilence;
That inftant was I turn'd into a hart,

And my defires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er fince pursue me. How now, what news from her? Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her hand-maid do return this answer: The element itself, 'till feven years hence, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloyftrefs, fhe will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brother's dead love, which the would keep fresh And lafting in her fad remembrance.

Duke. O, fhe, that hath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will fhe love, when the rich golden fhaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections elfe That live in her? when liver, brain, and heart, *Three fov'reign thrones, are all fupply'd, and fill'd, (O fweet perfection!) with one felf-fame King!

But, for the old nonfenfe, the Oxford Editor gives us his new. So full of fhapes is fancy,

And thou all o'er art high fantaflical, Says the Critic. 4 THESE foreign thrones-] We fhould read THREE fou reign thrones. This is exactly in the manner of Shakespear. So, afterwards, in this play, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, do give thee fivefold blazon.

5 HER fweet perfections!] We should read, and point it thus, (0 feet perfe&ion !)

Away before me to fweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowers.

[Exeunt.

Enter Viola, a Captain and Sailors.
HAT country, friends, is this?
Cap. Illyria, Lady.

Vio.

WH

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elyfium.

Perchance, he is not drown'd; what think you, failors? Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were fav'd. Vio. O my poor brother! fo, perchance, may he be. Cap. True, Madam: and to comfort you with chance,

Affure yourself, after our fhip did fplit,

When you, and that poor number fav'd with you, Hung on our driving boat: I faw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself

(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a ftrong maft, that liv'd upon the fea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

I faw him hold acquaintance with the wayes,
So long as I could fee.

Vio. For faying fo, there's gold.

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy fpeech ferves for authority,

The like of him. Know'ft thou this country?

Cap. Ay, Madam, well; for I was bred and born, Not three hours travel from this very place.

Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Orfino.

Vio. Orfino I have heard my father name him
He was a batchelor then.

Cap. And fo is now, or was fo very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know,
What Great ones do, the lefs will prattle of)
That he did feek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's fhe?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a Count, That dy'd fome twelve months fince, then leaving her In the protection of his fon, her brother,

Who fhortly alfo dy'd; for whofe dear love,
They fay, fhe hath abjur'd the fight

And company of men.

Vio. O, that I ferv'd that lady,

And might not be deliver'd to the world,

Till I had made mine own occafion mellow

What my estate is!

Cap. That were hard to compass;

Because fhe will admit no kind of fuit,
No, not the Duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain;
And tho' that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft clofe in pollution; yet of thee,
I will believe, thou haft a mind that fuits
With this thy fair and outward character :
I pr'ythee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For fuch difguife as, haply, fhall become
The form of my intent. I'll ferve this Duke;
Thou fhalt prefent me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can fing,
And fpeak to him in many forts of mufick,
That will allow me very worth his fervice,
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy filence to my wit.

Cap.