I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain phantafy;
Which is as thin of fubftance as the air;
And more inconftant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bofom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Romeo and Juliet, A. 1, S. 4.

I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers:
How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester!
I have long dream'd of fuch a kind of man,
So furfeit-fwell'd, fo old, and fo profane;
But, being awake, I do despise my dream.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. 5, S. 5.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantafma, or a hideous dream;
The genius, and the mortal inftruments,
Are then in council, and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, fuffers then
The nature of an infurrection.

Julius Cæfar, A. 2, S. 1.

Think our former ftate a happy dream;

From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shews us but this: I am fworn brother, fweet,

To grim neceffity; and he and 1

Will keep a league till death. Richard II. A. 5, S. 1.

Thou proud dream,

That play'ft fo fubtly with a king's repofe,
I am a king, that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the scepter, and the ball,
The fword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tiffued robe of gold and pearl,
The farfed title running 'fore the king,
The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of the world,

No,

No, not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to reft, cramm'd with distressful bread,
Never fees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rife to fet,
Sweats in the eye of Phœbus, and all night
Sleeps in elyfium.

Henry V. A. 4, S. I.

There is fome ill a brewing towards my reft,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 5.

DUTY.

Others there are,

Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd
their coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have fome foul,
And fuch a one do I profefs myself.

Othello, A. 1, S. 1.

Throw away respect,

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while :
I live on bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends;-fubjected thus,

How can you fay to me-I am a king?

Richard II. A. 3, S. 2.

Every fubject's duty is the king's: but every fubject's foul is his own. Therefore fhould every foldier in the wars do as every fick man in his bed, wash every moth out of his confcience and doing fo, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was bleffedly loft, wherein fuch preparation was gained and, in him that escapes, it were not fin to think, that, making God fo free an offer, he let him

out

out-live that day to fee his greatnefs, and to teach others how they should prepare. Henry V. A. 4, S. 1. -We thought ourself thy lawful king: And if we be, how dare thy joints forget Το pay their awful duty to our prefence? If we be not, fhew us the hand of God That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship.

Richard II. A. 3, S. 3.

Be pleased then

To pay that duty, which you truly owe,

To him that owes it, namely, this young prince :
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in afpect, have all offence feal'd up.

King John, A. 2, S. 1.

S. 2.

Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their foul; though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And ftand unfhaken yours. Henry VIII. A. 3,
Such duty as the fubject owes the prince,
Even fuch, a woman oweth to her husband:
And, when she's froward, peevish, fullen, four,
And, not obedient to his honeft will,
What is the but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?

I

Taming of the Shrew, A. 5, S. 2.
What poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1.
I love

1

and what poor duty cannot do,

Noble refpet takes it in might, not merit.] The fenfe of this paffage, as it now stands, if it has any fenfe, is this: What the inability of duty cannot perform, regardful generofity receives as an act of ability, though not of merit. The contrary is rather true:

What

I love not to fee wretchednefs o'ercharg'd,
And duty in his fervice perithing.

Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1.
In the modefty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of faucy and audacious eloquence.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. I.
Never any thing can be amiss,

When fimpleness and duty tender it.

YOU

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1.

You cram these words into mine ears against The ftomach of my fenfe. Tempest, A. 2, S. 1.

The ifle is full of noises,

Sounds, and fweet airs, that give delight, and hurt

not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling inftruments
Will hum about mine ears. Tempeft, A. 3, S. 2.
Full many a lady

I've ey'd with best regard; and many a time

What dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regardful generofity receives as having the merit, though not the power, of complete per formance.

We should therefore read,

"And what poor duty cannot do,

"Noble respect takes not in might, but merit."

"Might," in this place, is not ability but endeavour.

H

JOHNSON

A. B.

The

The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear. Tempeft, A. 3, S. Is
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic hiftory.-

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 5, S. 6.
Dear Ifabel,

I have a motion much imports your good;
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,
What's mine is yours, and what is yours

is mine. Measure for Measure, A. 5, S. 1.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæfar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones,
So let it be with Cæfar. Julius Cæfar, A. 3, S. 2.
This fleep is found, indeed; this is a fleep,
That from this golden rigol hath divorc❜d
So many English kings. Thy due from me,
Is tears, and heavy forrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteouffy.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 4.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a fieve.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

Ram' thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,

That long time have been barren.

Antony and Cleopatra, A. 2, S. 5.
EARTH.

Ram thou thy fruitful tidings.-] Shakespeare probably wrote (as Sir T. Hanmer obferves) Rain thou, &c. Rain agrees better with the epithets, fruitful and barren. STEEVENS.

Perhaps