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Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would, revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us through,

And put us to our answer.

Bel.

Well, 'tis done:

We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay

Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him
To dinner presently.

Arv.

Poor sick Fidele!

I'll willingly to him: To gain his colour,
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,"
And praise myself for charity.

Bel.
O thou goddess,
Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,
Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful,

5

revenges,

[Exit.

That possible strength might meet,] Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any possibility of opposition. Johnson.

6

To gain his colour,] i. e. to restore him to the bloom of health, to recall the colour of it into his cheeks. Steevens.

7 I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood, I would, says the young prince, to recover Fidele, kill as many Clotens as would fill a parish. Johnson.

"His visage, (says Fenner of a catchpole,) was almost eaten through with pock-holes, so that half a parish of children might have played at cherry-pit in his face." Farmer.

8

They are as gentle

As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,

Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, &c.] So, in our

author's Lover's Complaint:

"His qualities were beauteous as his form,

"For maiden tongu'd he was, and thereof free;

"Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm

"As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,

"When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be."

Malone.

'Tis wonderful,] Old copies-wonder. The correction

That an invisible instínct should frame them
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not seen from other; valour,

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd! Yet still it's strange,
What Cloten's being here to us portends;
Or what his death will bring us.

Gui.

Re-enter GUIDERIUS.

Where's my brother?

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage
For his return.

[Solemn Musick.

Bel.
My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion! Hark!
Gui. Is he at home?

Bel.

He went hence even now.

Gui. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st

mother

It did not speak before. All solemn things

Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys,1
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys,

Is Cadwal mad?

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN as dead,

Bel.

in his Arms.

Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his arms,

Of what we blame him for!

Arv.

The bird is dead,

That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Than have seen this.

is Mr. Pope's. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: "Keep a good student from his book, and it is wonderful." Steevens.

1

lamenting toys,] Toys formerly signified freaks, or frolicks. One of N. Breton's poetical pieces, printed in 1577, is called, "The toyes of an idle head." See Vol. XI, p. 14, n. 6. Malone. Toys are trifles. So, in King Henry VI, P. I:

"That for a toy, a thing of no regard."

Again, in Hamlet:

"Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss." Steevens.

Gui.

O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, As when thou grew'st thyself.

Bel.

O, melancholy!

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
Might easiliest harbour in?3—Thou blessed thing!
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I,*

2 O, melancho'y!

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom?] So, in Alba, the Monthes Mind of a Melancholy Lover, by R T. 1598:

3

"This woeful tale, where sorrow is the ground,

"Whose bottom 's such as nere the depth is found."

what coast thy sluggish crare

Might easiliest harbour in ?] The folio reads:

thy sluggish care?

Malone.

which Dr. Warburton allows to be a plausible reading, but substitutes carrack in its room; and with this, Dr. Johnson tacitly acquiesced, and inserted it in the text. Mr. Simpson, among his notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, has retrieved the true reading, which is

[blocks in formation]

"In some decay'd crare of his own "

A crare, says Mr. Heath, is a small trading vessel, called in the Latin of the middle ages crayera. The same word, though somewhat differently spelt, occurs in Harrington's translation of Ariesto, Book XXXIX, Stanza 28:

"To ships, and barks, with gallies, bulks and crayes," &c. Again, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611:

"Behold a form to make your craers and barks." Again, in Amintas for his Phillis, published in England's Helicon, 1600:

"Till thus my soule dooth passe in Charon's crare.” Mr. Tollet observes that the word often occurs in Holinshed, as twice, p. 906, Vol. II. Steevens.

Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—thou, sluggish crare, might'st, &c. The epithet sluggish is used with equal propriety, a crayer being a very slow-sailing unwieldly vessel. See Florio's Italian Dict. 1598, “Vurchio. A hulke, a crayer, a lyter, a wherrie, or such vessel of burthen." Malone.

but 1,] This is the reading of the first folio, which later editors not understanding, have changed into but ah! The meaning of the passage I take to be this:-Jove knows, what man thou might'st have made, but I know, thou died'st, &c. Tyrwhitt.

I believe," but ah!” to be the true reading. Ay is through the

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !—
How found you him?

Arv.

Stark, as you see:

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek
Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.

Arv.

Where?

O' the floor;

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Gui.
Why, he but sleeps:7
If he be gone, he 'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.

Arv.

With fairest flowers,

first folio, and in all books of that time, printed instead of ah! Hence probably I, which was used for the affirmative particle ay, crept into the text here.

Heaven knows (says Belarius) what a man thou wouldst have been, had'st thou lived; but alas! thou diedst of melancholy, while yet only a most accomplished boy. Malone.

Stark,] i. e. stiff. So, in Measure for Measure:

66

guiltless labour

"When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones."

Again, in King Henry IV, Part I:

"And many a nobleman lies stark

"Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies." Steevens.

6 clouted brogues —] are shoes strengthened with clout or hob-nails. In some parts of England, thin plates of iron called clouts, are likewise fixed to the shoes of ploughmen and other rusticks. Brog is the Irish for a kind of shoe peculiar to that kingdom. Steevens.

Why, he but sleeps:] I cannot forbear to introduce a passage somewhat like this, from Webster's White Devil or Vittoria Corombona, [1612] on account of its singular beauty:

"Oh, thou soft natural death! thou art joint twin
"To sweetest slumber! no rough-bearded comet
"Stares on thy mild departure: the dull owl
"Beats not against thy casement: the hoarse wolf
"Scents not thy carrion :-pity winds thy corse,
"While horror waits on princes!" Steevens.

And worms will not come to thee.] This change from the second person to the third, is so violent, that I cannot help imputing it to the players, transcribers, or printers; and therefore wish to read:

And worms will not come to him. Steevens.

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that 's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the rudduck would,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;

Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.1

9 With fairest flowers

Whilst summer lasts, &c.] So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, (edit. 1609):

1

"No, I will rob Tellus of her weede,

"To strewe thy greene with flowers: the yellowes, blues,
"The purple violets and marygolds,

"Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,
"Whilst summer dayes doth last." Steevens.

the ruddock would,

With charitable bill,-bring thee all this;

Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,

To winter-ground thy corse.] Here again the metaphor is strangely mangled What sense is there in winter-grounding a corse with moss? A corse might indeed be said to be wintergrounded in good thick clay. But the epithet furr'd to moss directs us plainly to another reading:

To winter-gown thy corse:

i. e. thy summer habit shall be a light gown of flowers, thy winter habit a good warm furr'd gown of moss. Warburton.

I have no doubt but that the rejected word was Shakspeare's, since the protection of the dead, and not their ornament, was what he meant to express. To winter-ground a plant, is to protect it from the inclemency of the winter-season, by straw, dung, &c. laid over it. This precaution is commonly taken in respect of tender trees or flowers, such as Arviragus, who loved Fidele, represents her to be.

The ruddock is the red-breast, and is so called by Chaucer and Spenser:

"The tame ruddock, and the coward kite."

The office of covering the dead is likewise ascribed to the ruddock, by Drayton in his poem called The Owl:

"Cov'ring with moss the dead's unclosed eye,

"The little red-breast teacheth charitie."

See also, Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, B. I, p. 10. Steevens, the ruddock would, &c.] Is this an allusion to the Babes of the VOL. XVI.

N

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