Bel. O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st Not wagging his fweet head; and yet as rough, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop Re-enter Guiderius. Guid. Where's my brother? I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream Bel. My ingenious inftrument! [Solemn mufic Hark, Polydore! it founds! but what occafion Bel. He went hence even now. Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my It did not speak before. All folemn things Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad? Enter Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in bis arms. Bel. Look, here he comes! And brings the dire occafion, in his arms, Arv. The bird is dead That we have made fo much on. I had rather Guid. Oh fweetest, fairest lilly! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, Bel. O melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find Thou dy'ft, a moft rare boy, of melancholy!- Arv. Stark, as you see; Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled slumber, 8 O, melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find The ooze, to fhew what coaft thy fluggish crare which Dr. WARBURTON allows to be a plaufible reading, but fubstitutes carrack it its room; and with this Dr. JOHNSON tacitly acquiefces, and inferts it in the text. Mr. SYMPSON, in his notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. vi. page 441. has retrieved the true reading, which is, A crare, fays the author of The Revijal, is a small trading veffel, called in the Latin of the middle ages crayera. STEEV. Not Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Arv. O' the floor, His arms thus leagu'd. I thought he slept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whofe rudeness Answer'd my steps too loud. Guid. Why, he but fleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Arv. With faireft flowers, Whilst summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele, With charitable bill, bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flow'rs are none, To winter-ground thy corfe. Here again, the metaphor is ftrangely mangled. What fenfe is there in winter-grounding a corfe with mos. A corfe might indeed be faid to be wintergrounded in good thick clay. But the epithet furr'd to moss directs us plainly to another reading, To winter-gown thy corfe: i. e. the fummer habit fhall be a light gown of flowers, thy winter habit a good warm furr'd gown of moss. WARB. I have no doubt but that the rejected word was Shakespeare's, fince the protection of the dead, and not their ornament, was what he meant to exprefs. To winter-ground a plant, is to protect it from the inclemency of the winter-feafon, by straw, dung, &c. laid over it. This precaution is commonly taken in refpect of tender trees or flowers, fuch as Arviragus, who loved Fidele, reprefents her to be. The ruddock is the red-breaft, and is fo called by Chaucer and Spenfer: "The tame ruddock, and the coward kite." STEEV. VOL. IX. R Yea, Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corfe. Guid. Pr'ythee have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Guid. Cadwal, I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee: Arv. We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I fee, medicine the lefs: for Is quite forgot. He was a queen's fon, boys; (That angel of the world) doth make distinction He was paid for that: -] HANMER reads, He has paid for that: rather plaufibly than rightly. Paid is for punified. So JONSON, "Twenty things more, my friend, which you know due, "For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you." 2 reverence, JOHNSON. (That angel of the world)] Reverence, or due regard to fubordination, is the power that keeps peace and order in the world. JOHNSON. 2 Guid. Guid. Pray you, fetch him hither. Therfites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll fay our fong the whilft. Brother, begin. [Exit Belarius. Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the Eaft; My father hath a reafon for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Guid. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. So, begin. SONG. Guid. Fear no more the heat o' the fun, Home art come, and ta'en thy wages. Arv. 3 Fear no more the frown o' the great, Care no more to cloath and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: 4 The fcepter, learning, phyfic, must 3 Fear no more, &c.] This is the topic of confolation that nature dictates to all men on these occafions. The fame farewell we have over the dead body in Lucian. Τέχνον άθλιον ἔκετι διψήσεις, ἔκετι πεινήσεις, &c. WARBURTON. 4 The Scepter, learning, &c.] The poet's fentiment feems to have been this. All human excellence is equally fubject to the stroke of death: neither the power of kings, nor the fcience of fcholars, nor the art of those whofe immediate ftudy is the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final destiny of man. JOHNSON. |