Of what we blame him for. Arv. The bird is dead, That we have made fo much on! I had rather Guid. Oh fweeteft, fairest lilly! My Brother wears thee not one half fo well, Bel. (44) Oh melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find Thou dy'dft, a moft rare boy, of melancholy! Arv. Stark, as you fee: Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled flumber; Guid. Where? (44) Oh, Melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy Bottom? find The Ooze, to fhew what Coaft thy fluggish Care Might eas'lieft harbour in ?] But as plaufible as This at first Sight may feem, all Thofe, who know any Thing of good Writing, will agree That our Author must have wrote; to shew what Coaft thy fuggish Carrack Might eas lieft harbour in? Carrack is a flow, heavy-built, Veffel of Burthen. This reftores the Uniformity of the Metaphor, compleats the Senfe, and is a Word of great Propriety and Beauty to defign a melancholic Perfon. Mr. Warburton. The Word is us'd again by our Author in his Othello; Carraca, Navis oneraria ingens. Elder Brother. Arv. O'th' floor: His arms thus leagu'd; I thought, he flept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whofe rudeness Anfwer'd my fteps too loud. Guid. Why, he but fleeps; If he be gone, he'll make his Grave a Bed; Arv. With faireft flow'rs, (Whilft fummer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,) Guid. Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that And not protract with admiration what And let us, Paladour, though now our voices (45) The Radock would, With charitable Bill, bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd Mofs befides. When Flow'rs are none To winter-ground thy Courfe] Here, again, the Metaphor is ftrangely mangled. What Senfe is there in winter-grounding a Coarfe with Mofs? A Coarfe might indeed be faid to be winter-grounded in good thick Clay. But the Epithet furr'd to Mofs directs us plainly to another Reading. To Winter-gown thy Coarfe. i. e. Thy Summer Habit fhall be a light Gown of Flowers, thy Winter Habit a good warm furr'd Gown of Mofs. Mr. Warburton. As, ་ As, once, our Mother: ufe like note, and words, Guid. Cadwall, I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; Arv. We'll fpeak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I fee, med'cine the lefs. For Cloten (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction Guid. Pray, fetch him hither. When neither are alive. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll fay our Song the whilft: Brother, begin. Eaft My Father hath a reason for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Guid. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. So, begin. SONG. Guid. Fear no more the heat o'ib' Sun, Thou thy worldly task haft done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all muft, As chimney Sweepers, come to duft. Care no more to cloath and eat; The The Scepter, learning, phyfick, muft And renowned be thy Grave! A Enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten. Guid. We've done our obfequies: come, lay him down. Bel. Here's a few flow'rs, but about midnight more; The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'th' night, Are ftrewings fitt'ft for Graves. Upon their faces You were as flow'rs, now wither'd; even fo These herbetets fhall, which we upon you ftrow. Come on, away, apart upon our knees The ground, that gave them firft, has them again; Their pleasure here is pait, fo is their pain. [Exeunt. Imogen, awaking. Imo. Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven, which is the way? I thank you thither? Ods pittikins. by yond bush? pray, how far can it be fix mile yet? I've gone all night-'faith, I'll lye down and fleep. And cook to honeft creatures. But 'tis not fo: 'Twas 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing, 3 The brawns of Hercules: but his jovial face —— : fanio! 'tis gone! Pi All curfes madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, 1 " Struck the main-top! oh Pofthumus, alas, Where is thy head? where's That Pay me, where's (46) That? But if there be Yet left in Heav'n as fmall a Drop of Pity Ifhould have found in fome Place of my Soul" Tho' this Expreffion is very pathetic and fine in both these Places of our Συ δ' ἀλλὰ μας αλαγμὸν εἰρήνης ἕνα Εἰς + καλαμίσκον ἐνς αλαξον τετονί. Tho' I have tranflated καλαμίσκον (which is a Diminutive from καλα u) a Quill: I know, it fignifies, among the Surgeons, a Probe; an Inftrument to convey Balfam into Wounds Specillum. I am furpriz'd that neither Hefychius nor Suidas acknowledge the Word, which has fo good an Authority as Ariftophanes.- But Julius Pollux quotes it and brings the Pallage from our Comic Poet in Confirmation. Pifanio |