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S. I

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is
crept

into the bofom of the fea;
And now loud howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night;
Who with their drowsy, flow, and flagging

wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

Henry VI. P. 2, A. 4, S. I.

O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not, till now, to dignify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes ! Henry IV. P.2, A. I,

A. I, S. I.
O, that a man might know
The end of this day's business, ere it come!
But it sufficeth, that the day will end,
And then the end is known.- 7. Cæfar, A.
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me.

K. John, A.4, S. 11 No scape of nature, no distemper'd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause, And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven.

K. Jóbn, A. 3, S. 4. The sun is in the heaven; and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds, To give me audience. K. John, A. 3, S. 3. On this day, let seamen fear no wreck, No bargains break, that are not this day made. This day, all things begun come to ill end; Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change.

K. John, A. 3. S. 1.

Oh,

Oh,' how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!

Two Gent. of Verona, A. I, S. 3. If it be a hot day, and I brandish any thing but my bottle, I would I might never spit white again.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. I, S. 2.

D Ε Α Τ Η.
Now boast thee, death! in thy poffeffion lies
A lass unparalleld.-Downy windows, close;
And golden Phæbus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal ! Ant. & Cleop. A. 5, S. 2•

- If he be sain, fay so:
The tongue offends not, that reports his death.

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! Oh, how this spring of love resembleth.] At the end of this verse there is wanting a syllable, for the speech apparently ends in a quatrain. I find nothing that will rhyme to fun, and therefore I shall leave it to fome happier critic. I suspect that the au. thor might write thus:

O, how this spring of love resembleth right,
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the glory of the light,

And by and by a cloud takes all away!"
Light was either by negligence or affectation changed to furg
which, considered without the rhyme, is indeed better. The next
transcriber, finding that the word right did not rhyme to fung
supposed it incorrectly written, and left it out. JOHNSON

hink we may read

- Oh, how love's spring resembleth in its run,
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away!". A. B.
* Would I might never fpit white again.] i.e. May I never have
my stomach inflamed with liquor, for to spit white is the conse-
quence of inward heat.

STEEVENS. May I never spit white again” is a vulgarism. The meaning fimply is, may I never spit again-may I die. For it should be remembered, that if a man spits at all, he must spit white. A. B.

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And

And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead ;
Not he, which says the dead is 'not alive.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. I, S. 1.
In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp)
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best temper'd courage in his troops.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. I, S. 1. I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me.

Mercb. of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, At their death, have good inspirations.

Merch. of Venice, A. I, S. 2. Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths, And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ; Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.

King John, A. 4, S. 2.

Without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion; no, not Death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city. King John, A. 2, S. 2.

Oh amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench ! found rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to proiperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones.

King John, A. 3, S. 4.

If thou art rich, thou art poor;
For like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Meas. for Meas. A. 32

S, I.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life.

Measure for Measure, A.3, S. I.

Thy best of rest is fleep, And that thou oft provok'st, yer groflly fear'ft Thy death, which is no more.

Measure for Measure, A. 3, S. I. o Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death."

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 2, S. I, The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment, Can lay on nature; is a paradise To what we fear of death.

Measure for Measure, A. 3, S. 1. When first this order was ordain'd, Knights of the garter were of noble birth; Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars; Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, But always resolute in most extremes.

Henry VI. P. I, A. 4, S. 1. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage:

Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.] Done to death for killed, was a common expresfion long before Shakespeare's time. Thus Chaucer:

And said, that if ye done us both to die.
And Spencer mentions a plague which many did to dye.

JOHNSON. The expreffion is according to the French idiom - faire mourir,

A. B.

Here

of mine,

Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again; never stand still,
Till either death hath clos'd these

eyes
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 2, S. 3. Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff, Life and these lips have long been separated; Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Romeo and Juliet, A. 4, S. 5. Let them pull all about mine ears; present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.

Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 2. If I say, fine, cry fine; if death, cry death; Insisting on the old prerogative And power i'the truth o'the cause.'

Coriolanus, A. 3. S. 3. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, fleaing : pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word.

Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 3.

* Infisting on the old prerogative,

And power i'the truth o'tbe causé.] This is not eafily under. stood; we might read,

O'er the truth of the cause. JOHNSON, Very easily understood surely. Truth is, in this place, supe port. Infisting on your old prerogative and power in support of ibe cause; i, e. the cause of the people,

A. B.

Though

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