Imatges de pàgina
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word of the noble: therefore let me have right, and
Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 3..

let defert mount."
I am commanded, with your leave and favour,
Humbly to kifs your hand, and with my tongue
To tell the paffion of my fovereign's heart;
Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears,
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue.

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 3, S. 3

Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live registered upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the difgrace of death.

Love's Labour Loft, A. 1, S, I.

Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name,

Love's Labour Loft, A. 1, S. 1.

FAMINE.

-Yet famine,

Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.

Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever

Of hardness is mother,

If

Cymbeline, A. 3, S. 6.

you frown upon this proffer'd peace,

To tempt the fury of my three attendants,

Lean famine, quartering fteel, and climbing fire;
Who, in a moment, even with the earth

Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers.

J

Henry VI. P. 1, A. 4, S. 2,

I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after fupper of a cheese-paring: when he was naked, he was for all the world like a fork'd radifh, with a head fantastically carv'd upon it with a knife: he was fo forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick fight were invifible: he was the very genius of famine. Henry IV. P. 2, A, 3, S. 2.

Art thou fo bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'ft to die? famine is in thy cheeks,

I 4

Need

P

Need and oppreffion ftarveth in thine eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged mifery,

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.

Romeo and Juliet, A. 5, S. 1.

FANCY.

Then let us teach our trial patience,

Because it is a customary cross;

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and fighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1. All the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigur'd fo together, More witneffeth than fancy's images, And grows to fomething of great conftancy. Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1. So full of shapes is fancy,

1

That it alone is high fantastical.

Twelfth Night, A, 1, S. I, Now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy

Muft fanctify his relicks.

All's well that ends well, A. 1, S. 1,
All impediments in fancy's courfe

Are motives of more fancy.

All's well that ends well, A. 5, S. 3.

FARM,

* I will bring thee where Mrs. Anne Page is at a farm house a feafting; and thou shalt woo her: cry'd game, faid I well?

Merry Wives of Windsor, A. 2, S. 3.
FATE.

I will bring thee where Anne Page is; and thou shalt woo her; ery'd game, faid I well?] Mr. Theobald alters this nonsense to try'd game; that is, to nonsense of a worse complexion. Shake fpeare wrote thus, cry aim, faid I well? i, e, confent to it, ap

prove

My fate cries out,

FAT E. ·

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

Hamlet, A. 1, S.

4.

That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give:

She, dying, gave it to me;

And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did fo: and take heed on't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;

To lofe't, give't away, were fuch perdition,
As nothing else could match.

Othello, A. 3, S. 4.

That cuckold lives in blifs,

Who certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;

But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,

Who dotes, yet doubts; fufpects, yet strongly loves!

Othello, A. 3, S. 3.

O vain boast! Who can control his fate?

Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,

The very fea-mark of my utmost fail.

Othello, A. 5, S. 2.

Take my defiance:

prove it for to cry aim, fignifies to confent to, or approve of any thing. The phrafe was taken originally from archery; but the Oxford editor transforms it to cock o' th' game; and his improve ments of Shakespeare's language abound with these modern ele gancies of speech, fuch as mynbeers, bull-baitings, &c.

WARBURTON. Mr. Steevens would retain "cry'd game," but I cannot think it right. I read,

"Thou shalt woo her, and cry amie"

Amie, Fr. a word of endearment. Thou fhalt woo her, fays the hoft, and cry amie,-i. e. falute her with the title of lovely miftrefs, eh, faid I well? That this is the true reading the context will clearly fhew,

A. B.

Die; perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed.

21

Meafure for Measure, A. 3, S. 1.

FATHER.

and one

To you, your father fhould be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea,
To whom you are but as a form in wax,
By Itim imprinted. Midf. Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1..
Know of your youth, examine well
your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun;

For aye to be in fhady cloifter mew'd.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1.
I know not why,

I love this youth; and I have heard you fay,
Love's reafon's without reafon: the bier at door,
And a deinand who is't fhall die, I'd fay,

S

My father, not this youth. Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2.' I love thee; I have spoke it :

How much the quantity', the weight as much,

As I do love my father.

Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2.

Lift up thy looks:

S. 3.

From my fucceffion wipe me, father! I

Am heir to my affection. Winter's Tale, A. 4,

O, fir,

You have undone a man of fourfcore three,

How much the quantity ] I read,

"As much the quantity."

I would read and point the paffage thus:

"I love thee; I have spoke it :

"How much the quality, the weight as much,

"As I do love my father."

JOHNSON.

I love thee; and in what ("quality") degree, I love thee, I have declared, by calling thee brother-which love is equal ("the weight as much") as that I bear to my father. A. B.

KI

That

That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,

To die upon the bed my

father dy'd.

Winter's Tale, A. 4, S. 3.

Why, look

you there! look, how it fteals away!,

My father, in his habit as he liv'd!

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal !

So rare a wonder'd father, and a wife,

Make this place paradife.

Hamlet, A. 3, S. 4.

Tempeft, A. 4, S. 1.

A father

Is, at the nuptial of his fon, a guest
That beft becomes the table.

[blocks in formation]

Although the print be little, the whole matter

And copy

of the father: eye, nofe, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead: nay the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek.

Winter's Tale, A. 2, S. 3.

If it affume my noble father's perfon,

I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. Hamlet, A. 1, S. 2.
O, my dear father! Reftoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kifs
Repair those violent harms, that my two fifters
Have in thy reverence made! Lear, A. 4,
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be expos'd against the warring winds?
To ftand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick, cross lightning?

S. 7.

Lear, A. 4, S. 7.

O! your only jig-maker. What should a man

do,

Your only jig-maker.] There may have been fome humour in this paffage, the force of which is now diminished. STEEVENS.

An

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