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(2) My piked man of countries ;--my dear Sir,
(Thus leaning on mine elbow, I begin)
I shall beseech you---that is question now;
And then comes answer-like an A B C book :
O Sir, fays answer, at your best command,
At your employment, at your service, Sir;
No, Sir, says question, I, sweet Sir, at yours.
And so e'er answer knows what question would,
Saving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po;
It draws towards supper in conclusion, so.
But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mountain spirit like myself :
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation.

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A Defcription of England,

(3) That pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,

And (2) My piked.] Mr. Pope explains this by " a Man formally bearded.'The old copies (says Theobald) give it us picked, by a Night corruption in the spelling; but the author certainly design’d piqued (from the French verb, je pique) i. e. touchy, tart, apprehenfive, upon his guard.” A sense, (that perhaps may seem ridiculous to some readers, and which i by'no means advance as true) ferikes me on reading the passage. « Richard says, the traveller and his tooth-pick shall be both at his table, and for my own part, (he goes on) when I have fufficed my knightly 1tomach, then I shall fit at my ease picking my teeth, and catechising my picked man of countries, i. e. my traveller who has already picked his teeth, and does not take the liberty which I do, to loil on his elbow and pick his teeth, being fubservient to my commands, and waiting for my catechifing him.” In this senfe picked is right in the old copies.

(3) That, &c.] Shakespear, like a true lover of his country, has never omitted any opportunity to celebrate it or his country



coops from other lands her islanders ;
Ev'n till that England, hedg’d in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Ev'n till that utmost corner of the weit,
Salute thee for her king.

Description of an English Armıy.
His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces strong, his foldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother queen ;
An Aie stirring him to blood and itrife.
With her, her niece the lady Blanch of Spain;
(4) With them a bastard of the king deceas'd;
And all th’unsettled humours of the land,


men, the Reader will find, besides the passages in the present play, one in Richard II. A.2. S. 1. and Cymbeline, A. 3. Si. Spenser too forgot not to pay due honours to his country in his Fairie Qucene, but has given us one whole canto, which he entitles,

A chronicle of Briton kings

From Brute to Uther's raigne :
And rolls of Elfin emperor's
Till time of Glorianie.

B. 2. C. 1o. Neither has Milton omitted to mention his country; in his admirable mask of Comus, he calls it

-An ille

The greatest and the best of all the main ; And his countrymen, An old and haughty nation proud in arms.

(4) With them, &c] There is a night error in the pointing here, which I the rather take notice of, as it runs thro' all the editions, and seems to have given the editors a wrong sense of the passage ; 'tis said the king is come with the mother queen,

With her, her niece the lady Blanch of Spain,
With them a bastard of the king deceas’d,
And all the unsettled humours of the land :
Rath, inconsiderate, &c.

I think

Rah, inconfiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With lady's faces, and fierce dragon's spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scathe in Christendom.
The interruption of their churli drums
Cuts off more circumstance; they are at hand.

By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with occafion.

SCENE II. A Boafer.
What cracker is this fame, that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
SCENE IV. Description of Victory', by the Frencii.

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur duke of Bretagne in:
Who by the hand of France this day hath made,
Much work for tears in many an Englijh mother,
Whose fons lye scatter'd on the bleeding ground:
And many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth;



I think there is no doubt, the semicoln ficuld be after the bal-
tard of the king deceas’d; then he adds, and all the unsettled
humours of the land, raih, &c. have fold, c." Siative in the
last line but two, signifies damage, hurt, mischief, derived from
a Saxon word: Skinner says, it is yet used in Lincoln lire, which
it might have been in his time, and probably may be now,
tho' I don't recollect ever to have heard it.


While victory with little loss doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French;
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors.

By the English.
Rejoice, you men of Angirrs, ring your bells,
King John, your king, and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot, malicious diy:
Their armours that march'd hence, fo filver bright,
Hither return all gilt in Frenchmens' blood;
There stuck no plume in any English creít,
That is removed by a staff of France.
Our colours do return in those fame hands
That did display them when we first march'd forth;
And like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purple hands,
Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.

SCENE V. A compleat Lady.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where shou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where shou'd he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If love, ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?
Scene VI. On Commodity, or Self-Intereft.

Rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the


of faith, That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, Who having no external thing to lose But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that ; That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling coipmodity, Commodity, the biass of the world, The world, which of itself is poised well, Made to run even upon even ground; Till this advantage, this vile drawing biass,

This fway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent,
And this fame biass, &c.

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Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick and capable of fears :
Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of tears ;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ;
A woman, naturally born to fears :
And tho’thou now confess thou didít but jest,

my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all the day.

Tokens of Grief. (5) What doft thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,


(5) Whai, &c.] So Seneca in his Oedipus, says,

Effari dubitas ? cur genas mulat color?

Quid verba quæris?
And in his Agamemnon,

Quid tacita verfas,
Licet ipsa sileas, totus in vuku dolor ofl.
Why dost thou fear to speak ?' Why on thy cheeks
Does thus thy colour come and go? And wherefore

Art thou thus at a loss to speak thy purpose ?-

What secret forrows roll within thy breast,
Thus flent i-- All thy looks bespeak afflictiosto

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