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Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
I'll read your matter, deep and dangerous
As full of peril and advent'rous fpirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unfteadfast footing of a spear.
(4) By heav'ns! methinks, it were an eafy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon : Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
(4) By heav'ns! &c.] I will not take upon me to defend this paffage from the charge laid against it of bombaft and fuftian, but will only obferve, if we read it in that light it is perhaps one of the finest rants to be found in any author, Mr. Warburton attempts to clear it from the charge, and obferves, "tho' the expreffion be fublime and daring, yet the thought is the natural movement of an heroic mind. Euripides, at least, (as he adds) thought fo, when he put the very fame fentiment, in the fame words, into the mouth of Eteocles."
Eya yap, &c..
I will not cloak my foul: methinks with ease
ACT II. SCENE VI.
Lady Piercy's pathetick Speech to her Husband.
(5) O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fort-night been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?
Tell me, fweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
And in thy face ftrange motions have appear'd,
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
(s) See Portia's speech to Brutus in Julius Cæfar, A& II. Scene III. B 3
ACT III. SCENE I.
(6) I blame him not at my nativity,
Hot. So it would have done
At the fame feason, if your mother's cat
* * * * * * * *
Difeafed nature oftentimes breaks forth In ftrange eruptions; and the teeming earth Is with a kind of cholick pinch'd and vext, By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb; which, for enlargement ftriving, Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down. High tow'rs and mols-grown fteeples.
On miferable Rhymers.
(7) I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew ! Than one of these fame meeter-ballad-mongers : ·
(6) I blame, &c,] Glendower was mightily fuperftitious, hẹ
Give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of heav'n was full of fiery fhapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were ftrangely clam'rous in the frighted fields :
Thefe figns have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courfes of my life do fhew,
I am not in the roll of common men.
(7) I had, &c,] Horace in his art of poetry, speaking of poctafters, fays;
I'd rather hear a brazen candleflick turn'd,
Punctuality in Bargain.
I'll give thrice fo much land.
To any well-deferving friend;
But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
A Hufband fung to fleep by a fair Wife.
She bids you
(8) All on the wanton rushes lay you down, And reft your gentle head upon her lap,
Ut mala, &c.
A mad dog's foam, th' infection of the plague,
'Tis hard to fay, whether for facrilege,
And like a bated bear, when he breaks loofe,
(8) She bids, &c.] There is fomething extremely tender and pleafing in these lines, as well as in the following, from Philafter, which justly deserve to be compared with them: - Who
And she will fing the fong that pleaseth you,
Who shall now tell you
A. 3. latter end.
(9) As is, &c.] It is remarkable of Milton, that whenever he can have an opportunity, he takes particular notice of the evening twilight, but I don't at prefent recollect any paffage where he defcribes this morning-twilight, which Shakespear fo beautifully hints at nothing can exceed this lovely description in the 4th book of his Paradife Loft.
Now came ftill evening on, and twilight gray
The reader will be agreeably entertain'd, if he refers to the paffage in Dr. Newton's Edition of Milton.