Abbildungen der Seite

(2) My piked man of countries;-my dear Sir,
(Thus leaning on mine elbow, I begin)
I fhall befeech you--that is queftion now;
And then comes anfwer-like an A B C book:
O Sir, fays anfwer, at your best command,
At your employment, at your fervice, Sir;--
No, Sir, fays queftion, I, fweet Sir, at yours.
And fo e'er anfwer knows what question would,
Saving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po;

It draws towards fupper in conclusion, so.
But this is worshipful fociety,
And fits the mountain fpirit like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of obfervation.


A Defcription of England.

(3) That pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whofe foot fpurns back the ocean's roaring tides,


(2) My piked.] Mr. Pope explains this by " a Man formally bearded." The old copies (fays Theobald) give it us picked, by a flight corruption in the fpelling; but the author certainly design'd piqued (from the French verb, je pique) i. e. touchy, tart, apprehenfive, upon his guard.” A fenfe, (that perhaps may seem ridiculous to fome readers, and which I by no means advance as true) ferikes me on reading the paffage. "Richard fays, the traveller and his tooth-pick shall be both at his table, and for my own part, (he goes on) when I have fufficed my knightly ftomach, then I fhall fit at my ease picking my teeth, and catechifing my picked man of countries, i. e. my traveller who has already picked his teeth, and does not take the liberty which I do, to toil on his elbow and pick his teeth, being fubfervient to my commands, and waiting for my catechifing him." In this fenfe picked is right in the old copies.

(3) That, &c.] Shakespear, like a true lover of his country, has never omitted any opportunity to celebrate it or his country


And coops from other lands her iflanders;
Ev'n till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Ev'n till that utmost corner of the west,
Salute thee for her king.

Defcription of an English Army.

His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces ftrong, his foldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother queen;
An Ate stirring him to blood and strife.
With her, her niece the lady Blanch of Spain;
(4) With them a bastard of the king deceas'd;
And all th' unsettled humours of the land,


men, the Reader will find, befides the paffages in the prefent play, one in Richard II. A. 2. S. 1. and Cymbeline, A. 3. S 1. Spenfer too forgot not to pay due honours to his country in his Fairie Queene, but has given us one whole canto, which he entitles,

A chronicle of Briton kings
From Brute to Uther's raigne :
And rolls of Elfin emperors
Till time of Gloriane.

B. 2. C. re.

Neither has Milton omitted to mention his country; in his admirable mask of Comus, he calls it

A -An ifle

The greatest and the best of all the main ; And his countrymen, An old and haughty nation proud in arms.


(4) With them, &c.] There is a flight error in the pointing here, which I the rather take notice of, as it runs thro' all the editions, and feems to have given the editors a wrong fenfe of the paffage; 'tis faid the king come with the mother queen,

With her, her niece the lady Blanch of Spain,
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd,
And all the unfettled humours of the land:
Rafh, inconfiderate, &c.

I think


Rafh, inconfiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With lady's faces, and fierce dragon's spleens,
Have fold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the fwelling tide,
To do offence and scathe in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumftance; they are at hand.


By how much unexpected, by fo much
We must awake endeavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with occafion.

SCENE II. A Boafter.

What cracker is this fame, that deafs our ears
With this abundance of fuperfluous breath?

SCENE IV. Defcription of Victory, by the French.

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur duke of Bretagne in:
Who by the hand of France this day hath made,
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose fons lye scatter'd on the bleeding ground:
And many a widow's hufband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the difcolour'd earth;


I think there is no doubt, the femicola fhould be after the baftard of the king deceas'd; then he adds, and all the unfettled humours of the land, rafh, &c. have fold, c." Scathe in the laft line but two, fignifies damage, hurt, mifchief, derived from a Saxon word: Skinner fays, is yet ufed in Lincolnshire, which it might have been in his time, and probably may be now, tho' 1 don't recollect ever to have heard it.



While victory with little lofs doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French;
Who are at hand, triumphantly difplay'd,
To enter conquerors.

By the English.

Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells, King John, your king, and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot, malicious day:

Their armours that march'd hence, fo filver bright,
Hither return all gilt in Frenchmens' blood;
There stuck no plume in any English crest,
That is removed by a staff of France.
Our colours do return in those fame hands
That did difplay them when we first march'd forth;
And like a jolly troop of huntfmen, come
Our lufty English, all with purple hands,
Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.

SCENE V. A compleat Lady.

If lufty love fhould go in queft of beauty, Where fhou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love fhould go in fearch of virtue, Where fhou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch? If love, ambitious fought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?

SCENE VI. On Commodity, or Self-Intereft.
-Rounded in the ear

With that fame purpofe-changer, that fly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lofe

But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity,
Commodity, the biafs of the world,

The world, which of itself is poised well,
Made to run even upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing biass,

This fway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpofe, courfe, intent,
And this fame biafs, &c.



A Womans Fears.

Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am fick and capable of fears:
Opprefs'd with wrongs, and therefore full of tears;
A widow, husbandlefs, fubject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears:

And tho' thou now confefs thou didst but jest,
With my vex'd fpirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all the day.

Tokens of Grief.

(5) What doft thou mean by fhaking of thy head? Why doft thou look fo fadly on my fon? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,

(5) What, &c.] So Seneca in his Oedipus, says,

Effari dubitas? cur genas mutat color?
Quid verba quæris?

And in his Agamemnon,

Quid tacita verfas,

Licet ipfa fleas, totus in vultu dolor eft.


Why doft thou fear to speak? Why on thy cheeks
Does thus thy colour come and go? And wherefore
Art thou thus at a lofs to speak thy purpose ?-


What fecret forrows roll within thy breast,
Thus filent-All thy looks befpeak affliction.


« ZurückWeiter »