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Guid. Fear no more the lightning-fiash.

Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone.
Guid. 5 Fecr not sander, censure rash.

Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.


Guid. No exorciser harm thee !

Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghost, unlaid, forbear thee!

Arv. Nothing ill come near thee !
Both. Quiet consummation have ;
And renowned be thy grave! 7

Re-enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.
Guid. We have done our obsequies: come, lay

him down.
Bel. Here's a few Aowers, but about midnight,




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The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the night,
Are strewings fitest for graves.—Upon their faces :-
You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow.
Come on, away. Apart upon our knees.
- The ground, that gave them first, has them again:
Their pleasure here is past, so is their pain. [Exeunt.

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s Fear not flander, &c.] Perhaps,

Fear not flander's censure rash. JOHNSON.
Consign to thee, -] Perhaps,

Consign to this.
And in the former stanza, for all follow this, we might read,
all follow thee. Johnson.

For the obsequies of Fidele, a song was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and abilities. I fall give it a place at the end in honour of his memory. Johnson.


I thank you.

Imogen, awaking
Imo. Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the


-By yon' bush ? -Pray, how far

thither? 8 'Ods pittikins !

can it be six mile yet? I have gone all night :-'Faith I'll lie down and Neep. But, foft! no bedfellow :

-Oh gods, and goddefles !

[Seeing the body.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world ;
This bloody man, the care on't.— I hope, I dream ;
For so I thought, I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so:
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods! a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt.
A headless man ! The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of his leg; this is his hand,
His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules : but " his Jovial face-
Murder in heaven? -how!'tis

All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,

_'tis gone!


$ 'Ods pittikins! This diminutive adjuration is used by Decker and Webster in Westward Hoe, 1607. Steevens.

his jovial face- Jovial face signifies in this place, such a face as belongs to Jove. It is frequently used in the fame fense by other old dramatic writers. So Heywood, in The Silver Age,

Alcides here will stand,
To plague you all with his high jovial hand.”

R 3


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And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou

Conspir’d with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Haft here cut off my lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treach’rous !-Damn'd Pisanio,
Hath with his forged letters—damn’d Pifanio!
From this the bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! Oh, Posthumus, alas,
Where is thy head? Where's that? ah me, where's

that ?
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be?

'Tis he and Cloten. Malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. Oh, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he faid, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home :
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's : oh!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: oh, my lord ! my lord!


Enter Lucius, Captains, and a Soothsayer, Cap. To them, the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross’d the sea, attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships : They are in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome?

Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits, That promise noble service; and they come

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Conspir'd with, &c.] The old copy reads thus,

Conspir’d with that irregulous divel, Cloten.
I suppose it ihould be,
Conspir'd with th' irreligicus devil, Cloten. JOHNS.


Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,
Syenna's brother.

Luc. When expect you them?
Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind.

Luc. This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present

numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, Sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur

pose ? Sooth. 3 Last night the very gods shew'd me a

vision : (I fast, and pray'd for their intelligence.) Thus:I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy South to this part of the West, There vanilh'd in the sun-beams : which portends, (Unless my fins abuse my divination) Success to the Roman host.

Luc. Dream often so,
And never false!-Soft, ho! what trunk is here
Without his top? The ruin speaks, that sometime
It was a worthy building.--How !

-How! a page!--
Or dead, or seeping on him? but dead, rather:
For nature doth abhor to make his couch
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let's see the boy's face.

Cap. He is alive, my lord,

2 Last night the VERY god's fpew'd me a wifon:] The very gods may, indeed, fignify the gods themselves immediately, and not by the intervention of other agents or instruments ; yet I am persuaded the reading is corrupt, and that Shakespeare wrote,

Last night, the WAREY godsWarey here fignifying, animadverting, forewarning, ready to give notice ; not, as in its more usual meaning, cautious, reserved. WARBURTON.

Of this meaning I know not any example, nor do I see any need of alteration. It was no common dream, but fent from the very gods, or the gods themselves. JOHNSON.



Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. Young

Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems,
They crave to be demanded: who is this,
Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or, 3 who was he,
That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good figure? What's thy interest
In this fad wreck ? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?


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who was he,
That, otherwise thun noble nature did,

Hath alter'd that goed picture? -) The editor, Mr. THEOBALD, cavils at this paslage. He says, it is far from being firisly grammatical; and yet, what is strange, he subjoins à paraphrase of his own, which shews it to be frictly grammatical. “ For, says he, the contruction of these words “ is this: who hath alter'd that good picture otherwise than

nature alter'd it?” I suppose then this editor's meaning was, that the grammatical construction would not conform to the sense ; for a bad writer, like a bad man, generally fays one thing and means another. He subjoining, «Shakespeare de

signed to say (if the text be genuine) Who hath alter'd that

good picture from what noble nature at first made it.” Here again he is mistaken ; Shakespeare meant, like a plain man, just as he spoke; and as our editor first paraphrased him, Who hath alter'd that good picture otherwise than nature alter'd it? And the folation of the difficulty in this sentiment, which so much perplexed him, is this: the speaker sees a young man without a head, and consequently much shorten'd in itature; on which he breaks out into this exclamation : Who hath alter'd this good form, by making it shorter; so contrary to the practice of nature, which by yearly accesion of growth alters it by making it taller. No occasion then for the editor to change did into bid, with an allusion to the command against murder; which then should have been forbid instead of bid. WARB.

Here are many words upon a very light debate. The sense is not much cleared by either critic. The question is asked, not about a body, but a picture, which is not very apt to grow shorter or jonger. To do a picture, and a picture is well done, are tanding phrases; the queition therefore is, who has altered this picture, so as to make it otherwise than nature did it.


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