Ruminat, and fo forth. Ah, good old Mantuan, I may fpeak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia (22). Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not:-ut re fol la mi fa. Under pardon, Sir, what are the contents? or rather, as Horace fays in his: What! my foul! verfes? (23)

Nath. Ay, Sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, Domine.

Nath. If love make me forfworn, how fhall I fwear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd; Though to myfelf forfworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Thofe thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like ofiers bow'd.

Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes; Where all thofe pleasures live, that art would comprehend:

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee fhall fuffice; Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.

All ignorant that foul, that fees thee without wonder: Which is to me fome praise, that I thy parts admire; Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder;

Which, not to anger bent, is mufick, and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon, love, this wrong, That fings heav'n's praise with such an earthly tongue.

from the place of his birth ;) was a voluminous writer of poems, who flourish'd towards the latter end of the 15th century.

(22) Venechi, veneche a, qui non te vide, i non te piaech.] Thus Mr. Rowe, and Mr. Pope, from the old blundering editions. But that these gentlemen, poets, scholars, and linguifts could not afford to restore this little fcrap to true Italian, is to me unaccountable. Our author is applying the praises of Mantuanus to a common proverbial sentence, faid of Venice. Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia. O Venice, Venice, he, who has never seen thee, has thee not in esteem. (23) What! my foul! verfes ?] As our poet has mention'd Horace, I prefume, he is here alluding to this paffage in his I. Sermon. 9. Quid agis, dulciffime rerum ?

Hol.

Hol. You find not the Apostrophes, and fo mifs the accent. Let me fupervife the canzonet (24). Here are only numbers ratify'd (25); but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poefy, caret: Ovidus Nafo was the man. And why, indeed, Nafo; but for fmelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention? imitari, is nothing: fo doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the try'd horse his rider: But Damofella Virgin, was this directly to you?

(24) Let me fupervise the Cangenet.] If the editors have met with any fuch word, it is more than I have done, or, I believe, ever shall do. Our author wrote Canzonet, from the Italian word Canzonetto, a little fong. We meet with it in B. Jonfon's Cynthia's Revells.

O! what a call is there! I will have a Canzonet made with nothing in it but, Sirrah! and the burden fhall be, I come.

(25) Nath. Here are only numbers ratified ;] Tho' this speech has been all along plac'd to Sir Nathaniel, I have ventur'd to join it to the preceding words of Holofernes; and not without reason. The fpeaker here is impeaching the verfes; but Sir Nathaniel, as it appears above, thought them learned ones: befides, as Dr. Thirlby obferves, almost every word of this speech fathers itself on the pedant. So much for the regulation of it; now, a little, to the contents.

And why indeed Nafo, but for fmelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitary is nothing.

Sagacity with a vengeance! I should be asham'd to own myself a piece of a scholar, to pretend to the task of an editor, and to pafs such ftuff as this upon the world for genuine. Who ever heard of invention imitary? invention and imitation have ever been accounted two diftin& things. The fpeech is by a pedant, who frequently throws in a word of Latin amongst his English; and he is here flourishing upon the merit of invention, beyond that of imitation, or copying after another. My correction makes the whole fo plain and intelligible, that, I think, it carries conviction along with it. Again;

So doth the bound bis mafter, the ape bis keeper, the tired horse his rider. The pedant here, to run down imitation, fhews that it is a quality within the capacity of beafts: that the dog and the ape are taught to copy tricks by their mafter and keeper; and fo is the tir'd horse by his rider. This laft is a wonderful inftance; but it happens not to be Mr. Warburton ingeniously saw, that the author must have wrote the tried horfe his rider.

true.

i. e. One, exercis'd, and broke to the manage: for he obeys every sign, and motion of the reign, or of his rider. This is not the only paffage, where our author employs tried in the sense of, exercis'd, train'd. So in Two Gentlemen of Verona.

And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being try'd, and tutor'd in the world.

Jag.

Jaq. Ay, Sir, from one Monfieur Biron, to one of the strange Queen's Ladies.

Hol. I will overglance the fuperfcript. To the nowwhite hand of the most beauteous lady Rofaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing, to the person written unto. Biron.

Your Ladyship's in all defir'd employment,

This Biron is one of the votaries with the King; and here he hath fram'd a letter to a fequent of the ftranger Queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of progreffion, hath mifcarry'd. Trip and go, my fweet; deliver this paper into the hand of the King; it may concern much; ftay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty adieu.

:

Jaq. Good Coftard, go with me. Sir, God fave your life. Ceft. Have with thee, my girl. [Exe. Coft. and Jaq. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously: and as a certain father faith

Hol. Sir, tell'not me of the father, I do fear the colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if (being repaft) it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforefaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where will I prove thofe verfes to be very unlearned, neither favouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I befeech your fociety.

Nath. And thank you too: for fociety (faith the text) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text moft infallibly concludes it. Sir, I do invite you too; [To Dull.] you fhall not fay me, nay: Pauca verba. Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. [Exeunt.

Enter Biron, with a paper in his hand, alone. Biron. The King is hunting the deer, I am courfing myfelf. They have pitcht a toil, I am toiling in a

4

pitch;

pitch; pitch, that defiles; défile! a foul word: well, fet thee down, forrow; for fo they fay the fool faid, and fo fay I, and I the fool. Well prov'd wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax, it kills sheep, it kills me, I a sheep. Well prov'd again on my fide. I will not love; if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not love; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love; and it hath taught me to rhime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, and here my melancholy. Well, he hath one o' my fonnets already; the clown bore it; the fool fent it, and the Lady hath it: fweet clown, sweeter fool, fweeteft Lady! by the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper; Gud give him grace to groan ! [be ftands afide.

King. Ay me!

Enter the King.

Biron. Shot, by heav'n! proceed, fweet Cupid; thou haft thumpt him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap: in faith, fecrets.

King. [reads.] So sweet a kifs the golden fun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rofe,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have fmote
The night of dew, that on my cheeks down flows;
Nor fhines the filver moon one half fo bright,

Through the tranfparent bofom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep;
No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee,
So rideft thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that fwell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will shew;
But do not love thyfelf, then thou wilt keep
My tears for glaffes, and ftill make me weep.
O Queen of Queens, how far doft thou excel !
No thought can think, no tongue of mortal tell.

How

How fhall the know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, fhade folly. Who is he comes here ? [The King feps afide.

Enter Longaville.

What! Longeville! and reading! liften, ear.

Biron. Now in thy likenefs one more fool appears. Long. Ay me! I am forfworn.

Biron. Why, he comes in like a Perjure, wearing papers. (26)

King. In love, I hope; fweet fellowship in fhame. Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. Long. Am I the firft, that have been perjur'd fo? Birin. I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know;

Thou mak' the triumviry, the three-corner-cap of fociety,

The fhape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up fimplicity. Long. I fear, thefe ftubborn lines lack power to move: O fweet Maria, Emprefs of my love,

Thefe numbers will I tear, and write in profe.

Biron. O, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hofe: Disfigure not his flop. (27)

(26) Why, he comes in like a perjur'd, wearing papers.] All the editions, that I have teen, give us a nontentical adjective here, ex ept the fuft old Folio, and a Quarto impreffion of this play publish'd in 1623 in both which it is rightly, as I have regulated the text, a perjure. So in the troublesome reign of K. Joba, in two parts.

But now black-fpotted perjure as he is.

In like manner the French make a fubftantive of this word, un parjure: i. e, a forfworn wretch.

(27) Ob, rbimes ai e guards on ranton Cupid's Loft;

Disfigure not his flop.] All the editions happen to concur in this error; but what agreement in fenfe is there betwixt Cupid's bote and his flops or, what relation can thofe two terms have to one another? or, what, indeed, can be understood by Cupid's fhop? It must undoubtedly be corrected, as I have reform'd the text. Slops are large and wide-kneed breeches, the garb in fashion in our author's days, as we may obferve from old family pictures; but they are now worn only by boors and fea-faring men and we have dealers whofe fole bufinefs it is to furfh the failors with thirts, jackets, &c. who are call'd, flop-men; and VOL. II.

K

their