Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. North. Now, afore heav'n, it's fhame, fuch wrongs are borne In him a royal Prince, and many more 'Gainft us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. Refs. The Commons hath he pill'd with grievous Taxes, And loft their hearts; the Nobles he hath fin'd not, But bafely yielded upon compromife That, which his Ancestors atchiev'd with blows; man. North. Reproach, and diffolution, hangeth over him. Rofs. He hath not money for thefe Irish wars, His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. North. His noble Kinfman. Moft degenerate King! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempeft fing, Yet feek no fhelter to avoid the ftorm: We fee the wind fit fore upon our fails, 'And yet we strike not, but fecurely perifh. Rofs. We fee the very wreck, that we muft fufer; wind. To frike the fails, is, to contract them when there is too much And unavoided is the danger now, For fuff'ring fo the caufes of our wreck. North. Not fo; ev'n through the hollow eyes of I fpy life peering; but I dare not fay, Willo. Nay, let us fhare thy thoughts, as thou doft ours. Rofs. Be confident to speak, Northumberland; We three are but thyfelf, and speaking fo, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold. North. Then thus, my friends. I have from Port le Blanc, A bay in Bretagne, had intelligence, That Harry Hereford, Rainald lord Cobham, Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis All thefe, well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne, Rofs. To horfe, to horfe; urge Doubts to them that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE V. The COURT. Enter Queen, Bufhy, and Bagot. Bubby.MAdam, your Majefty is much too fad : You promis'd, when you parted with the To lay aside self-harming heaviness, And entertain a chearful difpofition. Queen. To please the King, I did; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause, Why I should welcome fuch a guest as grief; 2 With nothing trembles, at fomething it grieves, Which fhew like grief itself, but are not fo: Shew The reading, which Dr. Warburton corrects, is itself an innovation. His conjecture gives indeed a better fenfe than that of any copy, but copies must not be needlefly forfaken. 3 Like Perfpectives, which Diftinguish form.] This is a fine fimilitude, and the thing meant Shew nothing but confufion; ey'd awry Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. *As, though, on thinking, on no thought I think, meant is this. Amongst mathematical recreations, there is one in Optics, in which a figure is drawn, wherein all the rules of Perfective are inverted: fo that, if held in the fame pofition with thofe pictures which are drawn according to the rules of Perfpeftive, it can prefent nothing but confufion: and to be feen in form, and under a regular Appearance, it must be look'd upon from a contrary ftation: or, as Shalfcare fays, ey'd azury. WARBURTON. 4A, though, on thinking, on no thought I think.] We fhould read, as though in thinking: That is, though mufing, I kave no diftinct idea of calamity. The involuntary and unaccountable depreffion of the mind, which every one has fom.time Or felt, is here very forcibly defcribed. 5 For nothing hath begot my Something grief; Or Jomething Lath, the nothing that I grieve.] With thefe lines I know not well what can be done. The Queen's reafoning, as it now ftands, is this. My trouble is not conceit, for conceit is fill derived from fome antecedent caufe, fome forefather grief; but with me the Cafe is, that either my real grief hath no real cause, or fome real caufe has produces a fancy`'d grief. That is, my grief is not conceit, because it either has not a caufe like conceit, or it has a caufe like conceit. This can hardly ftand. Let us try again, and read thus: For nothing bath begot my fumething grief; Not 6 Or fomething hath, the nothing that I grieve; 'Tis in reverfion That I do poffefs; But what it is, that is not yet known, what I cannot name, 'tis namelefs woe, I wot. SCENE VI. Enter Green. Green. Heav'n fave your Majefty! and well met, gentlemen: I hope, the King is not yet fhipt for Ireland. Queen. Why hop'ft thou fo? 'tis better hope, he is: For his defigns crave hafte, his hafte good hope: Then wherefore doft thou hope, he is not fhipt? Green. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his Power? 7 And driv'n into defpair an enemy's Hope, Not fomething hath the nothing which I grieve. That is, My grief is not conceit; conceit is an imaginary uncafiness from fome paft occurrence. But, on the contrary, here is real grief without a real caufe; not a real caufe with a fanciful forrow. This, I think, must be the meaning; harsh at the beft, yet better than contradiction or abfurdity. 'Tis in reverfion that I do pof. fefs, But what it is, that is not yet known, &c.] I am about to propose an interpretation which many will think harfh, and which I do not offer for certain. To poefs a man, is, in ShakeSpeare, to inform him fully, to make him comprehend. To be poffeffed, is, to be fully informed. Of this fenfe the examples are numerous. I have poffeft him my most fay Can be but bort. Meal. for Meaf. Is he polleft what fum you need. Merch. of Venice. I therefore imagine the Queen fays thus: Tis in reverfion that I do The event is yet in faturity-that I know with full conviction --but what it is, that is not yet known. In any other interpretation fhe must fay that the pfiffes what is not yet come, which, though it may be allowed to be poctical and figurative language, is yet, I think, lefs natural than my explanation. 7 Might have retired his power.] Might have drawn it back. A French fenfe. |