Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

And make him ftoop to th' vale- 'Tis wonderful,
That an invisible inftinct fhould frame them
To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
Civility not feen from other; valour,
That wildly grows in them; but yields a crop
As if it had been fow'd. Yet ftill it's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us.

Re-enter Guiderius.

Guid. Where's my brother?

I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the ftream,
In embaffy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.

Bel. My ingenious inftrument!

[Solemn mufick.

Hark, Paladour! it founds: but what occafion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? hark!

Guid. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence even now,

Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dear's
Mother,

It did not fpeak before. All folemn things
Should answer folemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.

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,,
Of what we blame him for..

Arv. The bird is dead,.

That we have made fo much on! I had rather
Have skipt from fixteen years of age to fixty;
And turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

Guid.. Oh fweeteft, fairest lily !.

My

My brother wears thee not one half so well,
As when thou grew'ft thyself.

Bel. (23) O melancholy !

Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find
The ooze, to fhew what coaft thy fluggish carrack
Might eas'lieft harbour in ?-thou bleffed thing!
Jove knows, what man thou might'ft have made; but ah!
Thou dy'dft, a moft rare boy, of melancholy!

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;
With female Fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come near thee.

Ars. With faireft flow'rs,

"Whilft fummer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll fweeten thy fad grave. Thou shalt not lack
'The flow'r that's like thy face, pale Primrose; nor
The azur'd Hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor

(23) Ob, Melancholy!

Who ever yet could found thy Bottom? find

The Ooze, to fhew what Coast thy fluggish Care
Might eas' lieft barbour in?]

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,
With charitable bill, (oh bill, fore-fhaming

Thofe rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a Monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flow'rs are none,
Those winter-gown thy coarfe.

Guid. Prythee, have done;

And do not play in wench-like words with that
Which is fo ferious. Let us bury him,
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.. To th' grave.

Arv. Say, where fhall's lay him?
Guid. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Arv. Be't fo:

And let us, Paladour, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, fing him to th' ground;
As, once, our mother: ufe like note, and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Guid. Cadwal,

I cannot fing: I'll weep, and word it with thee;
For notes of forrow, out of tune, are worse
Than Priefts and Fanes that lye.

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

[blocks in formation]

With charitable Bill, bring thee all this;

Yea, and furr'd Mofs befides. When Flow'rs are none
To winter-ground thy Coarfe- -]

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.
Of place 'twixt high and low. Our foe was princely,
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince.

Guid. Pray, 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.

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,
Nor the furious winter's rages;

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,,
Thou art paft the tyrant's stroke;

Care no more to cloath and eat;,
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The Scepter, learning, phyfick, muft
All follow this, and come to duft.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning-flash.
Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-ftone.
Guid. Fear no flander, cenfure rash.
Arv. Thou haft finish'd joy and moan..
Both. All lovers young, all lovers, must.
Confign to thee, and come to duft.
Guid. No exorcifer harm thee !
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghoft, unlaid, forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill some near thee !

Both

Both. Quiet confummation have,
And renowned be thy Grave!

Enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.

Guid. We've done our obfequies: come, lay him down.
Bel. Here's a few flow'rs, but about midnight more;
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'th' night,
Are ftrewings fitt'ft for Graves.- Upon their faces-
You were as flow'rs, now wither'd; even fo
These herbelets fhall, which we upon you ftrow.
Come on, away, apart upon our knees-

The ground, that gave them firft, has them again:
Their pleasure here is past, fo is their pain.

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.
But, foft! no bedfellow.- -Oh Gods, and Goddeffes!"
[Seeing the body.
These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man the care on't.I hope, I dream;
For, fure, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honeft creatures. But 'tis not fo:
"Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes,
Are fometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble ftill with fear; but if there be
Yet left in heav'n as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, oh Gods! a part of it!
The dream's here ftill; ev'n when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headlefs man!- -the garments of Pofthumus?
I know the shape of's leg, this is his hand,
His foot mercurial, his martial thigh,
The brawns of Hercules: but his jovial face-
Murder in heaven ?— -how!-

Pifanio!

-'tis gone!

All

« ZurückWeiter »