Puslapio vaizdai

There is fo hot a fummer in my bofom,
That all my bowels crumble up to duft:
I am a fcribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment, and against this fire
Do I fhrink up.

Poifon'd, ill fare! dead, forfook, caft off;

Drink, drink, drink, colder, colder
Than fnow on Scythian mountains: oh my heart-strings;

I'll have brought through my body:

And Volga, on whofe face the North-wind freezes,
I am an hundred hells, an hundred piles
Already to my funeral are flaming,

Shall I not drink?

Like Nero,

But far more terrible and full of flaughter,
I' th' midst of all my fire, I'll fire the empire:
A thousand fans, a thousand fans to cool me:
Invite the gentle winds, Eudoxia.

More drink,

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A thousand April fhowers fall in my bofom;
How dare ye let me be tormented thus? &c


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See Act. 5. S. 2.


But, in another play of theirs---- A wife for a month, is a poifoning scene, which better deserves to be compar'd with this of our author, and which Mr. Seward obferves, every reader of tafte will acknowledge fuperior to it." Alphonfo, long a prey to melancholy, is poifon'd with a hot, brenning potion, and in the midst of his tortures, raves thus.

Give me more air, more air, air: blow, blow, blow,
Open thou eastern gate, and blow upon me:
Diftill thy cold dews, O thou icy moon,
And rivers run through my afflicted fpirit.
I am all fire, fire, fire: the raging dog-ftar
Reigns in my bloood: oh which way fhall I turn me?]
Etna, and all her flames, burn in my head;
Fling me into the ocean or I perish:

Dig, dig, dig, dig, until the fprings fly up;
The cold, cold fprings, that I may leap into them,
And bathe my fcorch'd limbs in their purling pleasuress
Or fhoot me into the higher region,

Where treasures of delicious fnow are nourish'd,
And banquets of sweet hail.


And none of you will bid the winter come
To thruft his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom: nor intreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold.

Rug. Hold him faft, fryar,
Oh how he burns!

Alph. What will ye facrifice me ?

Upon the altar lay my willing body,

And pile your wood up, fling your holy incenfe :
And as I turn me, you shall see all flame,
Confuming flame: ftand off me, or you're ashes,

Mart. To bed, good fir.

Alph. My bed will burn about me:

Like Phaeton in all-consuming flashes

Am I inclos'd let me fly, let me fly, give room;
"Twixt the cold bears, far from the raging lion,
Lies my fafe way: O for a cake of ice now
To clap unto my heart to comfort me.
Decrepid winter hang upon my shoulders,
And let me wear thy frozen ificles,

Like jewels round about my head to cool me.
My eyes burn out and fink into their fockets,
And my infected brain like brimstone boils :
I live in hell, and several furies vex me.
O carry me, where never fun e'er shew'd yet
A face of comfort, where the earth is cryftal,
Never to be diffolv'd, where nought inhabits
But night and cold, and nipping frofts and winds,
That cut the stubborn rocks and make them shiver:
Set me there, friends

The line

'Twixt the cold bears, far from the raging lion, was read, (before corrected by Mr. Seward) Betwixt the cold bear and the raging lion.


SCENE X. England, invincible, if unanimous.
England never did, nor ever shall

Lye at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms;
And we shall shock them.-Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do reft but true.


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HAT that would to me?

(1) If it be aught towards the general good,

Set honour in one eye, and death i' th' other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For let the gods fo fpeed me, as I love
The name of honour, more than I fear death.

Caffius, in Contempt of Cæfar.

I was born free as Cæfar, fo were you;

We both have fed as well; and we can both


(1) What, &c.] "How agreeable to his ftoic character, does Shakespear make Brutus fpeak here? Cicero de Fin. iii. 16. Quid enim illi AAIA OPON dicunt, id mihi ita occurrit, ut indifferens dicerem. One of the great divifions of things among the ftoics was into good, bad, indifferent: virtue, and whatever partook of virtue, was good: vice, bad: but what partook of neither virtue, nor vice, being not in our power, was indifferent: fuch as honour, wealth, death, &c. But of these indifferent things, fome might be efteemed more than others; as here Brutus fays, I love the name of honour, more than I fear death. See Cicero de Fin. iii. 15. 16. The ftoics never deftroyed choice among indifferent things. This being premised, let us see Brutus's fpeech.-" If it be aught (fays he) towards the general good, (wgos ro ολον προς την που A) as I am a part of that whole, a citizen of that city: my principles lead me to purfue it: this is my end, my good: whatever comes in competition with the general good, will weigh nothing death and honour are to me things of an indifferent nature: but however I freely acknowledge, that of these indifferent things, honour has my greatest efteem, my choice and love: the very name of honour I love, more than I fear death."" Upton's Obfervations on Shakespear, p. 314.


Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
(2) For once upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his shores,
Cæfar fays to me, "dar'ft thou, Caffius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,


And swim to yonder point?"-Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bid him follow; fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it afide,
And ftemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cry'd, "help me, Caffius, or I fink."
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæfar: and this man

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(2) For once, &c.] It is too well known that swimming was a ufual exercife with the hardy and noble Romans, to infift upon it here: Horace makes it a mark of effeminacy to neglect it: and complains to Lydia, that he had enervated Sybaris, by making him afraid even to touch the yellow Tyber's stream---


Cur timet flavum Tyberim tangere ?

See ode 8. 1. 1.

Julius Cæfar was remarkable for his excellence in swimming: Beaumont and Fletcher, in their Falfe one, thus nobly defcribe one of the most illuftrious incidents of his life--

But got near the sea,

In which his navy anchor'd, in one hand
Holding a scroll he had, above the waves,
And in the other grasping faft his fword,
As it had been a trident forg'd by Vulcan
To calm the raging ocean; he made away
As if he had been Neptune: his friends, like
So many Tritons follow'd: their bold fhouts
Yielding a chearful mufick; we shower'd darts
Upon 'em, but in vain: they reach'd their fhips,
And in their fafety we are funk: for Cæfar
Prepares for war.
See the latter end of Act 5.
The reader is defired to refer to the 109th page of the tft volume.


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