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At your employment, at your service, Sir :-
No, Sir, says question, I, sweet Sir, at yours,
And so, e'er answer knows what question would, (5)
Serving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po;
It draws towards supper in conclusion, fo.
But this is worshipful fociety,
And fits the mounting spirit like myself:
For he is but a baftard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation ;
(And so am I, whether I smack or no :)
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth;
Which tho' I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn ;
For it fall strew the footsteps of my rising.
But who comes in such hafte, in riding robes i
(5) And so e'er answer knows wbat queflion would,

(Saving in dialogue) In this fine speech Faulconbridge would fhew the advantages and prerogatives of men of worship. He particuJarly observes, that he has the traveller at command. (And here we must remember the time our Author wrote in; when travellers, by the daily discovery of new worlds, were in the greatest estimation.) At the first intimation ofhis desire to hear strange fories, the traveller complies, and the answer comes as easy as an a, b, c, book. Now, Sir, says the Knight, this is my question:--The over-ready traveller will scarce give him leave to make it, but, e'er answer knows what queftion would, ---What then? Why, according to the stupidity of the hitherto receiv'd reading, it grows towards supper-time. And is not this worfhipful society to spend all the time betwixt dinner and supper, before either of them knows what the other would be at. So absurdly is the sense vitiated, by putting the three lines in a parentbefis; which, we may suppose, was first occafiond by their blunder in the word, saving, ioftead of the true word, serving. Now my emendation gives, the text this turn; “ And e'er answer knows what the question would “ be at, my traveller serves in his dialogue of compliment, which is “ his standing dish at all tables, then he comes to talk of the Alpes " and Apennines, &c. and by the time this discourse concludes, it “ draws towards supper." All now here is sense and humour; and the phrase of serving in is a very humorous one, to signify that this was his worship's second courses

Mr, Warburton.


What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her
O me! it is my mother; now, good Lady,
What brings you here to court so haftily?

Enter Lady Faulconbridge, and James Gurney. Lady. Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he, That holds in chase mine honour up and down?

Phil. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's son,
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man,
Is it Sir Robert's son, that you

seek for
Lady. Sir Robert's fon? ay, thou unrev'rend boy,
Sir Robert's fon : why fcorn'ft thou at Sir Robert ?
He is Sir Robert's fon; and fo art thou.

Pbil. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile?
Gur. Good leave, good Pbilip.

Phil. Philip! spare me, James ; (6) There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more. [Ex. Jam. Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son, Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast: Sir Robert could do well; marry, confess!

(6) Philip, sparrow, James.] Thus the old copies; and Mr. Pope has attempied to glofs this reading by telling us, that Philip is the common name for a tame sparrow. So that then Faulconbridge would say, Call me Philip? You may as well call me Sparrow. The allusion is very mean and triding: and every body, I believe, will chuse to embrace Mr. Warburton's emer.dation, which I have inserted into the text. Spare me, and forbear me, it may be observed, are our Au. thor's accustom'd phrases; either when any one wants another to leave him, or would be rid of a displeasing subject. So, in the Tempest, Alonso, when his companions teaze him with unseasonable discourse, says;

I pr’ythee, Spare.
So, Imogen, in Cymbeline, when she wants to get rid of CLOTIN;

I pray you, spare me; faith,
I shall unfold equal discourtesy

To your best kindness. So in Anthony and Cleopatra, when he dismisses the messenger, that brings an account of his wife's death :

There's a great spirit gone! And, in Measure for Measure, when the Duke would have Mariana leave him;

Í hall crave your forbearance a little; may be, I will calt upon you anon.


Forbear me;

Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it;
We know his handy-work; therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs ?
Sir Robert never holpe to make this leg.

Lady. Haft thou conspir’d with thy brother too,
That, for thine own gain, should'ft defend mine honour?
What means this fcorn, thou moft untoward knave ?

Phil. Knight, Knight, good mother-Bafilifco like. (7)
What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder :
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son;
I have disclaim'd Sir Robert, and my land ;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone :
Then, good my mother, let me know my father ;
Some proper man, I hope; who was it, mother?

Lady. Haft thou deny'd thyself a Faulconbridge ?

. As faithfully, as I deny the devil.
Lady. King Richard Ceur-de-lion was thy father ;
By long, and vehement, suit I was seduc'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed.
Heav'n lay not my transgrefsion to my charge!

(7) Knight, Knight, -good mother, Bafilisco like.] Thus must this paffage be pointed ; and, to come at the humour of it, I must clear up an old circumftance of Stage-history. Faulconbridge's words here carry a conceal'd piece of fatire on a stupid Drama of that age, printed in 1599, and called Soliman and Perseda. In this piece there is the character of a bragging cowardly Knight, call's Bafilisco. His pretenfion to valour is so blown and seen thro', that Pifon, a buffoon-servant in the Play, jumps upon his back, and will not disengage him, till he makes Bafilisco (wear upon his dugeon dagger to the contents, and in the terms, he dictates to him: as, for instance.

Baf. O, I swear, I swear.
Pist. By the contents of this blade,
Baf. By the contents of this blade,
Pift. I, the aforesaid Bafilisco,
Baf. I, the aforesaid Bafilifco,

Knigbt, good fellow, knigbt, knigbt,-
Pif. Knave, good fellow, knave, knave,-
So that 'tis clear, our Poet is (neering at this Play; and makes Pbi-
lip, when his mother calls him knave, throw off that reproach, by hu-
morously laying claim to his new dignity of knigbtbood; as Bafilisce
arrogantly infifts on his title of Knight, in the passage above quoted.
This old play is an execrable bad one; and, I suppose, was sufficiently
exploded in the representation: which might make this circumftance
so well known, as to become the butt for a stage-farcasm.


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dear offence,
Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence.

Phil. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not with a better father.
Some fins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so do yours; your fault was not your folly ;
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Subjected tribute to commanding love;
Against whose fury, and unmatched force,
The awless lion could not wage the fight;
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hands.
He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
With all

heart I thank thee for


Who lives and dares but say, thou didft not well
When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell.
Come, Lady, I will shew thee to my kin,

And they shall say when Richard me begot,
If thou hadft said him nay, it had been fin;

Who says, it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not. [Exeunt.

А с т ІІ. SCENE, before the Walls of Angiers in France. Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, the

Archduke of Austria, Constance, and Arthur.


L e w is.
EFORE Angiers well met, brave Auftria.

Arthur! that great fore-runner of thy blood
Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave Duke came early to his grave :
And for amends to his pofterity,
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;


And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth. God shall forgive you Ceur-de-lion's death
The rather, that you give his offspring life;
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a pow'rless hand,
But with a heart full of unitained love :
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

Lewis. A noble boy! who would not do thee right?

Auft. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As feal to this indenture of my love ;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore
Whose foot spurn's back the ocean's roaring tides,

from other lands her islanders ;
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 outmost corner of the West,
Salute thee for her King. Till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

Conft. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, Till your strong hand shall help to give him ftrength, To make a more requital to your love.

Auft. The peace of heav'n is theirs, who lift their swords In such a just and charitable war.

K. Philip. Well then, to work; our engines shall be bent Against the brows of this refifting town; Call for our chiefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best advantages. We'll lay before this town our royal bones, Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen’s blood, But we will make it subject to this boy,

Conft. Stay for an answer to your embassy, Left unadvis d you ftain your swords

with blood. My Lord Chatilion may from England bring That right in peace, which here we urge in war;


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