Page images

Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physick, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Ary. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

· Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Gui. No exorciser harm thee !6
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have ;

And renowned be thy grave!?

Re-enter BELARIUS, with the Body of Cloten. Gui. We have done our obsequies: Come lay

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


The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night,

5 Consign to thee,] Perhaps : To consign to thee, is to seal the same contract with thee, i. e. add their names to thine upon the register of death.

Ô No exorciser harm thee!!] Shakspeare invariably uses the word exorciser to express a person who can raise spirits, not one who lays them.

thy grave!] 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 shall give it a place at the end, in honour of his memory. JOHNSON.

Are strewings fitt'st 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 pleasures here are past, so is their pain.


Imo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven;

Which is the way?
I thank you.--By yon bush? --Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins!8_can it be six miles yet
I have gone all night:-'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow:-0, gods and goddesses!

Seeing the Body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody mang the care on't. I hope, I dream; For, so, I thought I was a caye-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 ine, 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 gone. Pisanio,

8 'Ods pittikins!] This diminutive adjuration is derived from Ged's my pity, which likewise occurs in Cymbeline.

9_ his Jovial face-] Joviul face signifies in this place, such 2 face as belongs to Jove. , It is frequently used in the same sense by other old dramatick writers.

All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord.--To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous !-Damn'd Pisanio.
Hath with his forged letters,—damn'd Pisanio-
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top!2-0, Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ah me! where's

Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he; and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to the sensés ? That confirms it home :

This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten’s : 0!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,

That we the horrider may seem to those
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord !

Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a

: : Soothsayer. Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have crossid the sea; attending You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: They are here in readiness. Luc.

But what from Rome? Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the cónfiners, And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits,

that irregulous devil,] Irregulous (if there be such a word) must mean lawless, licentious, out of rule, jura negans sibi nata.

% - the main-top!] i. e. the top of the mainmast.

3-o'tis pregnant, pregnant!] i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conelusion.



That promise noble service: and they come
Under the conduct of bold lachimo,
Sienna's brother.

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

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

... bers 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. Last night the very gods show'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 spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, (Unless my sins 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 ! a page! Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather: .. For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. Let's see the boy's face.

Cap. Die He is alive, my lord. ; Lucy He'l then instruct us of this body.-Young oney is

van Inform us of thy fortunes; for, it seems, and They crave to be deinanded: Who is this, in Thou mak’st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he, That, otherwise than roble nature did, asi

Obe c 99m Tcsiicti. Sienna's brother:] 1. e(as I suppose Shakespeare to have meant) brother to the Prince of Siunna: but, unluckily, Sienna was a republick. STEEVANS -...


:innovati: --:

Hath altered that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

Imo...... I am nothing: or if not, .
Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton, and a good,...
That here by mountaineers lies slain:--Alas!
There are no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
Try màny, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.
Luc. ' . is

'Lack, good youth ! Thou moy'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding: Say his name, good friend.

Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope

[ Aside.

They'll pardon it. Say you, sir ? :
Luc. .


Thy name?

..Fidele. - Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say,

Thou shalt be so'well máster'd; but, be sure,
No less belov’d. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner :
Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go with me.

Imo: I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxess can dig: and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his
ripresor · grave, :..

. in
And on it said a century of prayers,'.
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh;
And, leaving so his service, follow you,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
« PreviousContinue »