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Page 126.

Ard in the faces of their foes your women, in despight,

Should fing their suckling babes.
How exquisitely unnatural is a profession of lady Macbeth's in this way:

I have giv'n sick, and know
How tender 'isto love the babe that milks me,
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck't my nipple from his boneless gums
And dasht the brains out, had I but so sworn

As you have done to this
Page 125. Her name is written indi Ferently Voadicea, Boodicea, Bun-
duica, and Bondicea., Selden's Notes on Drayton.
Page 126.

--Pichtes of Scythian breed. Those who may be inclined to examine into the history of this nation, are referred to a very masterly enquiry, entituled, “ A Diđertation on the origin and progress of the Scythians or Goths,” by the able and ingenious Mr. Pinkerto:, lately published. To this Gentleman (if there is not an impertinence in the manner of my doing it.) I would recommend as a mitto for many of his works the following verse: Πος σοφίην μέν έχειν τόλμαν, μάλα σύα ορόν έστι.

Poet Min. Græci. p. 515. 1635 Edit. Cantabrig. Page 127. For the circumstances of this interview, fee Livy 11. Lib. See also Plutarch's life of Publicola.


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Notwithstanding the following incidental Remarks bear no relatioz

to particular passages in the Extracts which compose thee volumes, yet they are intimately connetted with some of the respective Authors from whom those Extracts are taken; and being in themselves both too foreign as well as too extensive for insertion in the course of the notes, it was thought necessary to give them a place here.


In selecting from this author, I have been obliged to omit many of this beauties from their unfortunate intermixture with the most upardonabile vulgarisms; in gathering flowers from such foils, weeds will unavokably obtrude themselves; in order however that the elegance and exactness of some of his fimilies, which were too short to be admitted into the body of the book, may not be overlooked, I take the opportunity of introducing them to the reader here, and should think that critic more fastidious than clear-fighted, who should be displeased with them.

Even as the foyle (which April's gentle showers
Have fild with sweetnesse, and enrich’t with flowers)
Reares up her suckling plants, still shooting forth
The tender blossomes of her timely birth,
But, if deny'd the beams of cheerly May,
They hang their withered heads, and fade away


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So man, affifted by th’ Almightie's hand,
His faith doth flourish and securely stand,
But left awhile, forfooke (as in a shade)
It languishes, and nipt with sin doth fade.

Job. Millitant, Med. 6.
As when a lady (walking Flora's Bowre)
Picks here a pir and there a gilly-flowre,
Now plucks a vilet from her purple bel,
And then a primrose (the yeeres maidenhead)
There, nips the bryer, here, the Lover's pauncy,
Shifting here dainty pleasures, with her fancy,
This, on her arme, and that, the lists to weare
Upon the borders of her curious haire
At length, a rose-bud (passing all the rest)
She plucks, and bosomes in her lilly brests.

Hist. of Queene Ester, Sect. 6.
Even as a Hen (whose tender brood forsakes
The downy cloiet of her wings, and takes
Each its affected way) markes how they feed,
This, on that crum, and that, on t' other feel',
Moves, as they move, and stayes, when as they stay,
And seems delighted in their infant-play :
Yet (fearing danger) with a busie eye,
Lookes here and there if ought she can espy
Which (unawares) might snatch a booty from her,
Eyes all that passe, and watches ev'ry commer;
Even so the affection, &c.

Job. Mil. Sect. 1.
Like as the Haggard, cloistered in her mew,
To scowi her downy robes, and to renew
Her broken flags, preparing toverlook
The tim'rous mallard at her Niding brook,
Jets oft from perch to perch, from stock to ground,
From ground to window, thus surveying round
Her dove-befeather'd prison, 'till at length
Calling her noble birth to mind, and strength
Whereto her wing was born, her ragged beak
Nipps of her jangling * jesjes, strives to break
Her gingling fetters and begins to bate
At ev'ry glimpse, and darts at ev'ry grate.

Emb. 1. 3. B.

If I prove her haggard,
Though that her jesjes were my dear heart strings
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune.


Even as the needle, that directs the howre,
(Toucht with the loadstone) by the secret power
Of hideen Nature, points upon the pole ;
Even so the wavering powers of my soule,
Toucht by the virtue of thy spirit, flee
From what is earth, and point alone to Thee.

Job. Mil. 4 Med. In the beautiful song of “ Sweet William's Farewell,” the failor with great propriety adopts a nautical term from his own Art:

Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart fall be

The faithful compass that still points to thee, In perusing Quarles, I have occasionally observed that he has sometimes taken thoughts from the works of Lord Sterline, but the paisages were hardly worth noticing. Quarles was indebted to Herman Hugo for the hint of writing Emblems, the earliest edition I have been able to meet with, is that published in 1623 at Antwerp, in tolerable good Latin Elegies. A translation of it appeared Lond. 1686, by Edm. Arwaker, M. A. who very injudiciously observes, that “ Mr. Quarles only borrowed his Emblems, to prefix them to much inferior sense.” The earliest edition of Quarles's book, that I have seen, is in 1635, all the prints from the beginning of the third book, are exactly copied from Hugo, but Hugo himself was not original. As Andrew Alciat, a Milaneze lawyer so early as 1535, published at Paris a volume of Emblems. Thuanus gives a great character of this writer. Hift. Lib 8. A small Edit. of Alciat's work, with the obfervations of C. Minos, partially extracted, was published at Geneva. There is a pretty thought in one of the emblems which consists of a Helmet turned into a Beehive, and surrounded on all sides with its inhabitants, the motto is, Ex bello pax. I mention it solely to observe, that in the Sonnet sung before Queen Elizabeth at a tilt in the year 1590 at Westminster, and supposed to have been composed by the Earl of Essex, a thought of the same kind occurs :

My helmet now shall make an bive for bees,
And lovers songs Thall turn to holy psalmes, &c.

See Vol. III. Eyans's Ballads. The writer of the fame song, whoever he was, might have been indebted for the thought to some print of the kind.


Milton's commentators have omitted remarking, that in the following palsage he seems to have had an eye on Warner :

Theę bright-hair'd Vesta long of yore
To solitary Saturn bore;
His daughter she, in Saturns reign
Such mixture was not beld a stain. Il Pens,



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