I mean, to man, he had not apprehenfion Enter GUIDERIUS, with Cloten's Head.. Guid. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse, There was no money in't; not Hercules. Could have knocked out his brains, for he had none : Bel. What haft thou done? Guid. I'm perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, Son to the Queen, after his own report; Who called me traitor, mountaineer, and swore Difplace our heads, where, thanks to th' Gods, they Bel. We're all undone ! [grow,. Guid. Why, worthy father, what have we to lofe, But what he swore to take, our lives? the law Protects not us; then why fhould we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us? Play judge, and executioner, all himself? For we do fear the law. What company Discover you abroad? being scarce then at man's eftate, he had no apprehenfion of roaring terrors, i. e of any thing that could check him. with fears. But then how does the inference come in, built upon this? for defe of judgment is oft the cause of fear. I think the Poet meant to have faid the mere contrary. Cloten was defective in judgment, and therefore did aot fear. Apprehenfions of fear grow from a judgment in weighing dangers. And a very eafy change, from the traces of the letters, gives us this fenfe, and reconciles the reafoning of the whole paffage; For th effect of judgment. Is oft the caufe of fear.. Bel. No fingle foul Can we fet eye on; but, in all safe reason, He must have fome attendants. (43) Though his Nor they fo fuffering; then on good ground we fear; More perilous than the head. Arv. Let ordinance Come, as the gods forefay it: howfoever, Bel. I had no mind To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's fickness Guid. With his own fword,. Which he did wave against my throat, I've ta'ex His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek (43) Though his honour Was nothing but mutation, &c.] What has his honour to do here in his being changeable in this fort in his acting as a madman, or not? I have ventured to fubstitute humour, against the authority of the printed copies; and the meaning feems plainly this: Though he was always fickle to the laft degree, and governed by humour, not found fenfe; yet not madness itfelt could make him fo hardy to attempt an enterprise of this nature alone and unfeconded. The like mistake of honour for humour had taken place in a paffage of the Merry Wives of Windfor, which I corrected from the fanc tion of the old Quarto impreffions. Behind our rock; and let it to the fea, And tell the fithes, he's the Queen's fon, Cloten.. That's all I reck. Bel. I fear 'twill be revenged: [Exit. 'Would, Paladour, thou hadit not done't! though Becomes thee well enough. Arg. 'Would I had done't, [valour So the revenge alone purfued me! Paladour, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou' robbed me of this deed; I would revenges,.. That poffible ftrength might meet, would feek us thro', And put us to our anfwer. Bel. Well, 'tis done: We'll hunt no more to-day, nor feek for danger Arv. Poor fick Fidele! I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour, Bel. O thou goddess, [Exit. Thou divine Nature! how thyself thou blazonest/ Not wagging his fweet head; and yet as rough; That wildly grows in them; but yields a crop Re-enter GUIDERIUS. Guid. Where's my brother? I have fent Cloten's clot-pole down the stream, Bel. My ingenious inftrument! [Solemn mufic.. Hark, Paladour! it founds: but what occafion Bel. He went hence even now. Guid. What does he mean? Since death of my dearest mother, It did not fpeak before. All folemn things Is Cadwall mad? Enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN dead, bearing her in his arms. Bel. Look, here he comes! And brings the dire occafion, in his arms, Arus The bird is dead That we have made fo much on! I had rather Guid. Oh fweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not one half fo well, Bel. (44) Oh melancholy! (44) Oh melancholy! Who ever get could found thy bottom? find Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find Thou diedit, a moft rare boy, of melancholy! Arv. Stark, as you fee: Thus fmiling, as fome fly had tickled flumber; Guid. Where? Arv. O' th' floor: His arms thus leagued; I thought he flept; and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answered my fteps too loud. Guid. Why, he but fleeps; If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; Might cafelieft harbour in?] But as plaufible as this at first fight may feem, all thofe who know any thing of good writ ing, will agree that our Author must have wrote; to fhew what coaft thy fluggish carrack Might eafelieft harbour in ? Carrack is a flow, heavy-built veffel of burden. This re- The word is uted again by our Author, in his Othello; If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. And we meet with it likewife in Beaumont and Fletcher; Carraca, navis oneraria ingens. Elder Brother. Skinner. Richelet.. |