« AnkstesnisTęsti »
(2) Mail'd up in fhame, with papers on my back; And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To fee my tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd groans.
And bid: me be advised how I tread.
Silent Refentment deepest.
* Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; And in his fimple fhew he harbours treafon.
SCENE IV. A guilty Countenance.
Defcription of a murder'd Perfon..
See how the blood is fettled in his face ! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghoft,
Of afhy femblance, meager, pale and blood-leís; (3) Being all defcended to the lab'ring heart,
(2) Mail'd.] Cover'd in a fleet as a man is in a coat of mail.
* Smooth.] Swallowing waters
Run deep and filent, till they're fatisfied,
And fmile in thousand curls to gild their craft.
The Bloody Brother, A& 2. §. 1.
(3) Being, &c.] There is fome little irregularity in grammar here; I have put a hyphen at blood-lefs, to make it the plainer; being all, i. e. all the blood being defcended, &c. I cannot quite be reconciled to who in the next line; it may indeed be allowed; but I fhould rather tranfpofe that, and read
That in the conflict which it holds with death.
Tho' perhaps, which foon after following, may be an objection. And we may obferve, he ufes who almoft in the fame manner in the fecond page of this Volume:
He gave his Nofe
Who therewith angry
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the fame for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
But fee his face is black, and full of blood;
His hair up-rear'd, his noftrils stretch'd with ftruggling;
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here;
SCENE VII. A good Confcience.
(4) What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel juft;
(4) What, &c.] A little before it is faid,
A heart unfpotted is not eafily daunted.
This fentiment is plainly fhadow'd from two celebrated odes of Horace; the 22d of the first book, and the 3d of the 3d book. The firft begins, Integer vitæ, &c.
From virtues laws who never parts,
The other, Juftum ac tenacem propofiti virum, &c.
The fury of the populace defies,
And dares the tyrant's threat'ning frowns defpife, &c.
I only just refer the reader to them, as they are fo generally known; Horace too in his Epiftles has a fine fentiment to this purpose:
And he but naked (though lock'd up in fteel)
SCENE VIII Remorfelefs Hatred.
A Plague upon 'em! wherefore should I curfe
Would curfes kill, as doth the Mandrake's groan,
As curft, as harsh, as horrible to hear,
- Hic murus aeneus eft,
Nil confetre fibi, nulla pallefcere culpa.
(5) As, &c.] This is as fine a picture of envy as could poffibly be given in fo narrow a compafs: Spencer hath defcribed her twice in his Faerie Queene, and in both places given us a moft loathfome picture, which Longinus would furely have greatly discommended, when we find him fo fevere on an author, for one line reprefenting a naufeous image. See his Effay on the Sublime, fect. 9. Spencer's Faerie Queene, B. 15. 1.4. ft. 30. and B. 5. 1. 12. ft. 29. It may be worth while to remark, how exactly Shakespear fuits his language to his characters: how different are these curfes from the mouth of Suffolk, to those, from the mouth of Caliban, in the Tempest &
Their fofteft touch, as fmart as lizard's ftings :
Now by the ground that I am banish'd from,
And banished I am, if but from thee:
Suff. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company,
For where thou art, there is the world itself :
And where thou art not, defolation.
(6) 'Tis not, &c] This paffage, as Mr. Wbally has obferved in his enquiry into the learning of Shakespear, is the antient language of love, and employed by Tibullus to his own mistress.
Sic ego fecretis poffum bene vivere fylvis
A wilderness, unknown to man, with thee
Defarts are worlds, and night out-shines the day.
L.4. c. 12:
I have often lamented we have not fo good a translation of this
delicate poet, and polite lover, as his excellence deferves.
SCENE IX, Dying, with the Perfon belov'd, preferable to parting.
If I depart from thee, I cannot live
SCENE X. The Death-bed Horrors of a guilty
(7) Bring me unto my tryal, when you will. Dy'd he not in his bed? Where should he die Can I make men live, whether they will or no? Oh, torture me no more, I will confefs Alive again? Then fhew me where he is : I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon himHe hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them: Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs fet to catch my winged foul: Give me fome drink, and bid th'apothecary Bring the ftrong poifon that I bought of him.. ACT IV. SCENE I. NIGHT.
(8) The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bofom of the fea
(7) Bring, &c.] Nothing can more admirably picture to us the horror of a guilty confcience, than this frantic raving of the cardinal:
When death's approach is feen fo terrible--
Ah, what a fign it is of evil life!
Thus hath guilt, even in this world, its due reward, and iniquity is not fuffered to go unpunished: the well-weigh ng fuch frightful fcenes might, perhaps, be of no fmall fervice to fuch as defpife lectures from the pulpit, and laugh at the interested representations of divines,
(8) The, &c] See the laft paffage in the Midsummer_night's dream, Spencer, fpeaking of night, fays;