Puslapio vaizdai

(2) Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back ;
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start, the cruel people laugh :
And bid: me be advised how I tread.


Silent Refentment deepest. * Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep ; And in his simple fhew he harbours treason.

SCENE IV. A guilty Countenance.
Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty to fright the world.

Description of a murderd Perfon.
See how the blood is settled in his face !
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghoit,
Of alhy semblance, meager, pale and blood-less;
(3) Being all descended to the lab'ring heart,


(2) Maild.] Cover'd in a sheet as a man is in a coat of mail.
* Smootb.] Swallowing waters

Run deep and filent, till they ’re satisfied,
And smile in thousand curls to gild their craft.

The Bloody Brotber, AEt 2. S. 1. (3) Being, &c.] There is some little irregularity in grammar

I have put a hyphen at blood-less, to make it the plainer; being all, i.e. all the blood being descended, &c. I cannot quite be reconciled to wko in the next line ; it may indeed be allowed; but I should rather transpose that, and read

That in the conflict which it holds with death.
Tho' perhaps, which soon after following, may be an objection.
And we may observe, he uses who almost in the same manner in
the second page of this Volume :

He gave his Nose-
Wb, 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
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But see his face is black, and full of blood ;
His eye-balls farther out, than when he liv'd;
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man ;
His hair up-rear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with truggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength fubdu'd.
Look on the sheets ; his hair, you see is sticking ;
His well-proportion'd beard, made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempeft lodgd :
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here;
The leaft of all these figns were probable.

Scene VII. A good Conscience. (4) What stronger breaft-plate than a heart un

tainted ? Thrice is he arm'd, that bath his quarrel jutt ;


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(4) #bat, &c.] A little before it is faid,

A heart unspotted is not eafily daunted. This sentiment is plainly shadow'd from two celebrated odes of Horace; the 22d of the first book, and the 3d of the 3d book, The first begins, Integer vitæ, &c.

From virtues laws who never parts,
Without the Moorish lance or bow,
Or quiver stor'd with poison'a darts,

Secure thro' savage realms may go, &c.
The other, Juftum ac tenacem propofiti virum, &c.

That upright man, who's steady to his trust,
Inflexible to ill, and obftinately just,
The fury of the populace defies,

And dares the tyrant's threat'ning frowns despise, &c. I only just refer the reader to them, as they are so generally known ; Horace too in his Epiftles has a fine fèntiment to this purpose :


And he but naked (though lock'd up in feel)
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Scene VIII Remor seless Hatred. A Plague upon 'em! wherefore should I curse

them : Would cutses kill, as doth the Mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, as horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many figns of deadly hate, (5) As lean-fac'd envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, Mine hair be fixt on end like one distra&t : Ay, ev'ry joint should seem to curfe and ban, And even now, my barthen'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintief meat they taste ! Their sweetest shade, a grove of Cypress trees! Their sweetest prospect, murth'ring basiliks !

Hic murus aeneus eft),
Nil confcire fibi, nulla pallefcere culpa.
Be this thy guard, and this thy ftong defence
A virtuous heart, and spotless innocence :
Not to be conscious of a shameful fin,
Nor to look pale for scarlet crimes within.


(5) As, &c.] This is as fine a picture of envy as could possibly be given in so narrow a compass : Spencer hath described her twice in his Fae. ie Queene, and in both places given us a moft loathsome picture, which Longinus would surely have greatly discommended, when we find him so severe on an author, for one line representing. a nauseous image. See his Essay on the subiime, feet. 9. See 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 suits his language to his characters : how different are these curfes from the mouch of Suffolk, to those, from the mouth of Caliban, in the Tempesta

Their softeft touch, as fmart as lizard's ftings!
Their musick frightful, as the serpent's hiss !
And boading screach-owls make the concert full !
All the foul terrors of dark-feated hell

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Now by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain-top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow.

Parting Lovers.
And banished I am, if but from thee :
Go, fpeak not to me: ev'n row be

Oh! go not yet-ev'n thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die
Yet, now farewel, and farewel life with thee!

Suff. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
(6) 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence ;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Saffolk had thy heavenly company,
For where thou art, there is the world itself:
With ev'ry sev'ral pleasure in the world:
And where thou art not, desolation,

(6) 'Tis not, &c ] This passage, as Mr.Wbally has observed in his 'enquiry into the learning of Shakespear, is the antient language of love, and employed by Tibullus to his own mistress,

Sic ego secretis polüm bene vivere sylvis

Qua nulla humano fit via trita pede :
Tu mibi curarum requies, tu noete vel atra

Lumen, & in Solis tu mihi turba locis. L.4. c. 126
A wilderness, unknown to man, with thee
Were blest, and populous enough for me ;

For where thou art each forrow flies away,
*: Desarts are worlds, and night out-shines the day,

I have often lamented we have not so good a translation of this * Licate poet, and polite lover, as his excellence deserves.


SCENE IX, Dying, with the Person belov’d, pre

ferable 19 parting.
If I depart from thee, I cannot live ;
And in thy fight to die, what wert it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradie-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
SCENE X. The Death-bed Horrors of a guilty

(7) Bring me unto my tryal, when you will.
Dy'd he not in liis bed ? Where should he die
Can I make men live, whether they will or no?
Oh, torture me no more, I will confess
Alive again? Then Mew me where he is :
I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon him-
He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them:
Comb down his hair ; look! look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul:
Give me some drink, and bid th' apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.


N I G H T.
(8) The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the fea :

And (7) Bring, &c.] Nothing can more admirably pi&ture to us the horror of a guilty conscience, than this frantic raving of the car

When death's approach is seen so terrible--

Ah, what a sign it is of evil life! Thus hath guilt, even in this world, its due reward, and iniquity is not suffered to go unpunished: the well-weigh'ng such frightful scenes might, perhaps, be of no small seryice to such as defpife leétures from the pulpit, and laugh at the interested representation of divines,

(8) The, &c ] See the last passage in the Midsummer nigbe's dream, Spencer, speaking of night, says;


dinal :


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