Omiffion to do what is neceffary Troilus and Creffida. A. 3, S. 3. The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Henry VIII. A. 1, S. 2. It was your pre-furmife, your fon might drop : Of wounds, and fcars, and that his forward fpirit Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1, The poor condemned English, Like facrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The morning's danger; and their gefture fad, So many horrid ghofts. Henry V. A. 4, Chorus. Danger knows full well, That Cæfar is more dangerous than he. J. Cafar, A. 2, S. 2. We must not think, the Turk is fo unskilful, Othello, A. 1, S. 3. To wake, and wage, a danger profitlefs.] To wage here, as in many other places of Shakespeare, fignifies to fight, to combat. STEEVENS. This Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are fhallow-rooted; Henry VI. P. 2, A. 3, S. 1. DARKNESS. If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in my arms. Meaf. for Meaf. A. 3. S. 1. DAY. This day is call'd-the feast of Crifpian: Hen. V. A. 4, S. 3. Look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 3. Like an unfeasonable ftormy day, Which makes the filver rivers drown their fhores, As if the world were all diffolv'd to tears! So high above his limits fwells the rage Of Bolingbroke. Richard II. A. 3, S. 2. This line, I think, fhould be pointed thus: To "wage war" is to engage in war. "To wake, and wage a danger profitless." will therefore fignify to engage in an hazardous exploit. A. B. To " wage danger" The The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day into the bofom of the fea; Is crept And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades Who with their drowfy, flow, and flagging wings Henry VI. P. 2, A. 4, S. 1. O, fuch a day, So fought, fo follow'd, and fo fairly won, Since Cæfar's fortunes! Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1. The end of this day's bufinefs, ere it come! And then the end is known.-J. Cæfar, A. 5, S. I K. John, A. 4, S. 1. No fcape of nature, no diftemper'd day, K. John, A. 3, S. 4. The fun is in the heaven; and the proud day, K. John, A. 3, S. 3. On this day, let feamen fear no wreck, K. John, A. 3. S. 1. Oh, Oh, how this fpring of love resembleth Two Gent. of Verona, A. 1, S. 3. If it be a hot day, and I brandifh any thing but my bottle, I would I might never spit white again." Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 2. Now boast thee, death! in thy poffeffion lies Of eyes again fo royal! Ant. & Cleop. A. 5, S. 2. Oh, how this Spring of love refembleth.] At the end of this verse there is wanting a fyllable, for the speech apparently ends in a quatrain. I find nothing that will rhyme to fun, and therefore I fhall leave it to fome happier critic. I fufpect that the author might write thus: 66 O, how this fpring of love resembleth right, Which now fhews all the glory of the light, Light was either by negligence or affectation changed to fun, which, confidered without the rhyme, is indeed better. The next tranfcriber, finding that the word right did not rhyme to sun, fuppofed it incorrectly written, and left it out. · JOHNSON. I think we may read "Oh, how love's spring resembleth in its run, A. B. 2 Would I might never fpit white again.] i. e. May I never have my ftomach inflamed with liquor, for to Spit white is the confequence of inward heat. STEEVENS. May I never pit white again" is a vulgarifm. The meaning fimply is, may I never spit again-may I die. For it should be remembered, that if a man fpits at all, he muft pit white. A. B 66 And And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead; Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1. In few, his death (whofe fpirit lent a fire Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1. I am a tainted wether of the flock, Merch. of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, Merch. of Venice, A. 1, S. 2. Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths, And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he, that fpeaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrift; Whilft he, that hears, makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. King John, A. 4, S. 2. Without this match, The fea enraged is not half fo deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More free from motion; no, not Death himself In mortal fury half fo peremptory, As we to keep this city. King John, A. 2, S. 2. Oh amiable lovely death! Thou odoriferous ftench! found rottennefs! And I will kifs thy deteftable bones. King John, A. 3, S. 4. If |