Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy ftrength? King John, A. 3, S. 1. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! And with them fcourge the bad revolting stars, Henry VI. P. 1, A. 1, S. 1. Henry the fifth! thy ghoft I invocate; Henry VI. P. 1, A. 1, S. ΙΑ Henry IV. P. 1, A. 5, S. 4、 Thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus. Cymbeline, A. 3, S. 2. Yet, if you there Did practife on my ftate, your being in Ægypt I tion. Antony and Cleopatra, A. 2, S. 2. my question.] i. e. My theme or fubject of converfa MALONE. limited fenfe. Mr. Malone here confiders queftion in a much too My queftion muft, in this place, mean my business. This is a matter, fays Cæfar (meaning the practising on his fhould particularly inquire into. state), that I STONE. 1 Go to then; your confiderate ftone. Antony and Cleopatra, A. 2, S. 2. STOR M. This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, Henry VI. P. 2, A. 5, S. 1. Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are, S U N. Miflike me not for my complexion, The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd fun, I Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 1. your confiderate ftone.] This line is paffed by all the editors, as if they understood it, and believed it univerfally intelligible. I cannot find in it any very obvious, and hardly any poffible meaning. I would therefore read, "Go to then, you confiderate ones." You who diflike my franknefs and temerity of speech, and are fo confiderate and difcreet, Go to. JOHNSON. I believe, Go to then, your confiderate ftone, means only this: If I must be chidden, henceforward I will be mute as a marble ftatuc, which feems to think, though it can fay nothing. STEEVENS. "Confiderate ftone," as Dr. Johnfon obferves, is certainly without meaning. I am perfuaded that it is a misprint, and that we fhould read: Go to then; your confederate's tone; i. e. Go to then; as your confederate would fay. By which words, Enobarbus feems to reprove Antony for his mildness, and at the fame time to throw out an infinuation that Cæfar is fomewhat too affuming in his manner. 3 A. B. To folemnize this day, the glorious fun King John, A. 3, S. 1. It is I, That lying, by the violet, in the fun, Meafure for Measure, A. 2, S. 2. Soft! What light through yonder window breaks? Arife, fair fun, and kill the envious moon, That thou her maid art far more fair than fhe. Romeo and Juliet, A. 2, S. 2. When the fun fhines, let foolish gnats make sport, Ne'er through an arch fo hurry'd the blown tide, you, The trumpets, fackbuts, pfalteries, and fifes, The fun's a thief, and with his great attraction Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 3. I was born fo high, Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, The weary fun hath made a golden fet, Richard III. A. 5, S. 3. The fun will not be seen to-day; what's that to me Yet will I imitate the fun; S.3. Henry IV. P. 1, A. 1, S. 2. Come, the fong we had last night: Mark it, Cefario; it is old, and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the fun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do ufe to chaunt it. Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4. We fairies, that do run By the triple Hecat's team, From the presence of the fun, Following darkness like a dream, Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 2. At first I did adore a twinkling star; Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 2, S. 6. All All the infections that the fun fucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Profper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! Tempeft, A. 2, S. 2. O fun, thy uprise fhall I fee no more: Fortune and Antony part here; even here Do we shake hands. All come to this?-The hearts Antony and Cleopatra, A. 4, S. 10. Once, or twice, I was about to fpeak; and tell him plainly, Winter's Tale, A. 4, S. 3. SURGE. -Do but stand upon the foaming shore : The chiding billow feems to pelt the clouds; The wind-fhak'd furge, with high and monftrous main, Seems to caft water on the burning bear, And quench the guards of the ever-fix'd pole; I never did like moleftation view On the enchafed flood. Othello, A. 2, S. 1. I faw him beat the furges under him, And ride upon their backs. Tempeft, A. 2, S. 1. For now I ftand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of fea; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Will in his brinish bowels fwallow him. Titus Andronicus, A. 3, S. 1. |