And make him ftoop to th' vale- 'Tis wonderful, Re-enter Guiderius. Guid. Where's my brother? I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the ftream, Bel. My ingenious inftrument! [Solemn mufick. Hark, Paladour! it founds: but what occafion Guid. Is he at home? Bel. He went hence even now, Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dear's It did not fpeak before. All folemn things Is Cadwal mad? Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his 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 fweeteft, fairest lily !. My My brother wears thee not one half so well, Bel. (23) O melancholy ! Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find How found you him? Arv. Stark, as you fee: Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled flumber! Not as Death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Repofing on a cushion. Guid. Where ? Arv. O'th' floor: His arms thus leagu'd; I thought, he flept; 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; Ars. With faireft flow'rs, "Whilft fummer lafts, and I live here, Fidele, (23) Ob, Melancholy! Who ever yet could found thy Bottom? find The Ooze, to fhew what Coast thy fluggish Care But as plaufible as this at first fight may feem, all thofe, who know any thing of good Writing, will agree, that our Author muft have wrote; to fhew what Coast thy sluggish Carrack Might eas' lieft barbour in 2 Carrack is a flow, heavy built, Veffel of Burden. This reftores the Uniformity of the Metaphor, compleats the Senfe, and is a Word of great Propriety and Beauty to defign a melancholic Perfon. Mr. Warburton. The The leaf of Eglantine; which not to flander, Out-fweeten'd not thy breath. (24) The Raddock would, Thofe rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Guid. Prythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Arv. Say, where fhall's lay him? And let us, Paladour, though now our voices Guid. Cadwal, I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; Aru. We'll fpeak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I fee, med'cine the lefs. For Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's fon, boys, And though he came our enemy, remember, Was paid for that: the mean and mighty, rotting With charitable Bill, bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd Mofs befides. When Flow'rs are none Here, again, the Metaphor is ftrangely mangled. What Sense is there in winter-grounding a Coarfe with Mofs? A Coarfe might indeed be faid to be winter-grounded in good thick Clay. But the Epithet furr'd to Mofs directs us plainly to another Reading. To Winter-gown thy Coarfe. i. e. Thy Summer Habit fhall be a light Gown of Flowers, thy Winter Habit a good warm furr'd Gorun of Mofs. Mr. Warburton. Together, 5. Together, have one duft; yet reverence, (That angel of the world,) doth make diftinétion. Guid. Pray, fetch him hither. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll fay our fong the whilft: Brother, begin. Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th' Eaft; My father hath a reason for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Guid. Come on then, and remove him. Arv. So, begin. SONG. Guid. Fear no more the heat o'th' Sun, Thou thy worldly task haft done, Home art gone, and taen thy wages. Golden lads and girls all muft, As chimney Sweepers, come to duft. Arv. Fear no more the frown o'th' Great,, Care no more to cloath and eat;, Both Both. Quiet confummation have, Enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten. Guid. We've done our obfequies: come, lay him down. The ground, that gave them firft, has them again: Imogen, awaking. [Exeunt. Imo. Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven, which is the way? I thank you by yond bufh ? thither ? 'Ods pittikins -pray, how far can it be fix mile yet? I've gone all night'faith, I'll lie down and fleep. And cook to honeft creatures. But 'tis not fo: Pifanio! -'tis gone! All |