I thought to crush him in an equal force, 1 Sol. He's the devil. Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour, poison'd With only suffering stain by him, for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, 4 - My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it 2 To potch is to thrust at with a sharp pointed instrument. Thus in Carew's Survey of Cornwall, speaking of fish: "They use to poche them with an instrument somewhat like a salmonspeare." 3 That is, "my valour, to reach his life, shall lose its nature, cease to be generous in respect of time and means." The passage is printed with great inaccuracy in the original, being precisely thus: "My valors poison'd, with onely suff'ring staine by him : for him shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary," &c. In the next line, the meaning is, "he being naked, sick." H. 4 Embarquements, as appears from Cotgrave and Sherwood, meant not only an embarkation, but an embargoing; which is evidently the sense of the word in this passage. Thus Sherwood: "To imbark, to imbargue. Embarquer. An imbarking, an imbarguing, Embarquement." 5 That is, in my own house under my brother's protection. Upon this speech of Aufidius Coleridge remarks as follows: "I have such deep faith in Shakespeare's heart-lore, that I take for granted that this is in nature; although I cannot in myself discover any germ of possible feeling, which could wax and unfold itself into such a sentiment. However, I perceive that in this speech is meant to be contained a prevention of shock at the after-change in Aufidius' character." This comment is commented on by Mr. Verplanck thus: "Such a criticism from Coleridge is worthy the reader's consideration, but I cannot myself perceive its justice. The mortification of defeat embitters Aufidius' rivalry to hatred. When afterwards his banished rival appeals to Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to tne city: Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome. 1 Sol. Will not you go ? Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you, ("Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. 1 Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Rome. A Public Place. Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS. Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. Bru. Good or bad? his nobler nature, that hatred dies away, and his generous feeling revives. Bitter jealousy and hatred again grow up, as his glories are eclipsed by his former adversary; yet this dark passion, too, finally yields to a generous sorrow at his rival's death. I think I have observed very similar alternations of such mixed motives and sentiments, in eminent men, in the collisions of political life." Certainly, both these comments are very fine. For ourselves, however, we can discover in the speech nothing more than the natural extravagance of a generous, but most ambitious and very inconstant mind, writhing under an agony of extreme disappointment. In such cases, dark thoughts of revenge often bubble up in the mind from an unseen depth, yet do not crystallize into char acter. 6 Attended is waited for. H. Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men: tell me one thing that I shall you. ask Both Trib. Well, sir. Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in,' that you two have not in abundance ? all. Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with Sic. Especially, in pride. Bru. And topping all others in boasting. Men. This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o'the right-hand file? Do you? Both Trib. Why, how are we censur'd? not be angry? you Both Trib. Well, well, sir; well. Will you Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the least, if you take 1 For this pleonastic use of the preposition see As You Like It, Act ii. se. 7, note 10; also, King Henry VIII., Act i. sc. 1, note 13. So, likewise, in a Letter from Lord Burghley to the Earl of Shrewsbury, found among the Weymouth manuscripts, and quoted by Malone: "I did earnestly inquire of hym in what estate he stood in for discharge of his former debts." H. it as a pleasure to you in being so. Marcius for being proud! Bru. We do it not alone, sir. You blame Men. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single; your abilities are too infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: 0, 2 that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could! Bru. What then, sir? Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates (alias, fools) as any in Rome. Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough, too. Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tyber in't said to be something imperfect in favouring the thirst complaint;3 hasty, and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion: one that converses more with the buttock of the night, than 2 Alluding to the fable, that every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults; and another behind him, in which he stows his own. 3 The original reads "first complaint;" in which there appears neither humour nor sense. Thirst is derived from Mr. Collier's celebrated copy of the second folio. There can be little hesitation in receiving it, as it makes both the sense and the humour perfect. Perhaps the word ought to be printed furst, as Singer informs us that thirst was sometimes provincially spelt and pronounced that way. As to the preceding clause, we have a similar expression in Lovelace's delectable little song "To Althea, from Prison:" "When flowing cups run swiftly round, With no allaying Thames; Our careless heads with roses bound, H. with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such weals-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses,) if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough, too? What harm can your bisson* conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough, too? Bru. Come, sir, come; we know you well enough. Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the colic, you make faces like mummers; set up the bloody flag against all patience; and, in roaring 7 4 Rather a late lier down than an early riser. So in Love's Labour's Lost: "In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon." 5 Bisson, which is spelt beesome in the original, is an old word for blind. So in Udal, St. Mark, chap. viii. «Thys manne was not purblynde, or a lyttle appayred and decayed in syght, but as bysome as was possible to be." The word was variously spelt bizend, beesen, bison. Richardson says it is still in use in some parts of the north of England. 6 That is, for their obeisance showed by bowing to you. 7 That is, declare war against patience. H. |