unlettered, or rathereft unconfirmed fashion, to infert again my haud credo for a deer. Dull. I faid, the deer was not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket. Hol. Twice fod fimplicity, bis coctus ; O thou monfter ignorance, how deformed doft-thou look ? Nath. Sir, he hath never fed on the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished. He is only an animal, only fenfible in the duller parts; (16) and fuch barren plants are fet before us, that we thankful fhould be for thofe parts, (which we taste and feel, ingradare) that do fructify in us, more than He. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indifcreet, or a fool; So were there a patch fet on learning, to fee him in a school.. But omne bene, fay I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind. Dull. You two are book-men; can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet? Hol. Dictynna, good-man Dull; Dyetinna, good-man Dull. (16) — And fuch barren Plants are set before us, that we thankful should be; which we taste, and feeling are for those Parts that do fructify in us more than he.] If this be not a ftubo born Piece of Nonfenfe, I'll never venture to judge of common Senfe. That Editors fhould take fuch Paffages upon Content, is, furely, furprifing. The Words, 'tis plain, have been ridiculously, and ftupidly, tranfpos'd and corrupted. The Emendation I have offer'd, I hope, reftores the Author: At least, I am fure, it gives him Senfe and Grammar and answers extremely well to his Metaphors taken from planting - - Ingradare, with the Italians, fignifies, to rife higher and higher; andare di grado in grado, to make a Progreffion; and so at length come to fruftify, as the Poer expreffes it LovE's Labour's loft. Dull. What is Dictynna? Nath. A title to Phabe, to Luna, to the Moon. 209 Hel. The moon was a month old, when Adam was no more : nd rought not to five weeks, when he came to fivefcore. 'allufion holds in the exchange. Dull. 'Tis true, indeed; the collufion holds in the change. Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I fay, the allufion ds in the exchange. Dull. And I fay, the pollution holds in the exchange; the moon is never but a month old; and I fay bee, that 'twas a pricket that the Princess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal eaph on the death of the deer? and to humour the orant, I have call'd the deer the Princefs kill'd, a icket. Nath. Perge, good mafter Holofernes, perge; fo it all pleafe you to abrogate fcurrility. Hol. I will fomething affect the letter; for it argues cility. The praifeful Princefs pierc'd and prickt Some fay, a fore; but not a fore, Nath. A rare talent! Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him ith a talent. Hol. This is a gift that I have, fimple, fimple ; a olish extravagant fpirit, full of forms, figures, fhapes, objects. objects, ideas, apprehenfions, motions, revoluti These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nouri in the womb of pia mater, and deliver'd upon the m lowing of occafion; but the gift is good in those whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. Nath. Sir, I praise the lord for you, and fo may parishioners; for their fons are well tutor❜d by you, a their daughters profit very greatly under you; you a good member of the common-wealth. Hol. Mehercle, if their fons be ingenuous, they f want no inftruction: if their daughters be capable, I v put it to them. But vir fapit, qui pauca loquitur: foul feminine faluteth us. master Parfon. Enter Jaquenetta, and Coftard. And if one fho Coft. Marry, mafter fchool-mafter, he that is lik to a hogshead. Hol. Of piercing a hogfhead, a good Luftre of co ceit in a turf of earth, fire enough for a flint, pe enough for a fwine: 'Tis pretty, it is well. Jaq. Good mafter Parfon, be fo good as read this letter; it was given me by Coftard, and fent from Don Armatho; I befeech you, read it. Hol. Faufte, precor, gelidâ (17) quando pecus om fub umbrá Ruminat, and fo forth. Ah, good old Mantuan, I ma (17) Nath. Faufte, precor, gelida] Tho' all the Editions co cur to give this Speech to Sir Nathaniel, yet, as Dr. Thirl ingeniously observ'd to me, it is evident, it must belong Holofernes. The Curate is employ'd in reading the Letter himself; and while he is doing fo, that the Stage may no ftand ftill, Holofernes either pulls out a Book; or, repeatin fome Verses by heart from Mantuanus, comments upon th Character of that Poet. Baptifta Spagnolus, (firnamed Maniu fpeak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia (18). Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not:- - ut re fol la mi fa. Under pardon, Sir, what are the contents ? or rather, as Horace fays in his : What! my foul! verses? (19) Nath. Ay, Sir, and very learned. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a ftanza, a verfe; Lege, Domine. Nath. If love make me forfworn, how fhall I fwear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd; Though to my felf forfworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like ofiers bow'd. Study his biafs leaves, and makes his book thine eyes; Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend : If knowledge be the mark, to know thee fhall fuffice; Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend. All ignorant that Soul, that fees thee without wonder: Which is to me fome praise, that I thy parts admire ; Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder; Which, not to anger bent, is mufick, and sweet fire. (18) Venechi, venache a, qui non te vide, i non te piaech.] Thus Mr. Rowe, and Mr. Pope, from the old blundering Editions. But that thefe Gentlemen, Poets, Scholars, and Linguifts, could not afford to restore this little Scrap of true Italian, is to me unaccountable. Our Author is applying the Praises of Mantuanus to a common proverbial Sentence, faid of Venice. Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia. O Venice, Venice, he, who has never feen thee, has thee not in Efteem." (19) What! my Soul! Verfes?] As our Poet has mention'd Horace, I prefume, he is here alluding to this Paffage in his 1. Sermon. 9. Quid agis, dulciffime rerum ? Celestial Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon, love, this wro That fings heav'n's praise with fuch an ear tongue. Hol. You find not the Apostrophes, and fo miss the Let me fupervise the canzonet (20). Here only numbers ratify'd (21); but for the elegancy, 1 cent. (20) Let me fupervise the Cangenet.] If the Editors 1 met with any fuch Word, it is more than I have done, o believe, ever fhall do. Our Author wrote Canzonet, from Italian Word Canzonetto, a little Song. (21) Nath. Here are only Numbers ratified;] Tho' this Spe has been all along plac'd to Sir Nathaniel, I have ventur'd to j it to the preceding Words of Holofernes; and not with Reason. The Speaker here is impeaching the Veries; but Nathaniel, as it appears above, thought them learned ond befides, as Dr. Thirlby observes, almost every Word of t Speech fathers itself on the Pedant. So much for the Regul tion of it now, a little, to the Contents. And why indeed Nafo, but for smelling out the odorifero Flowers of Fancy? the jerks of Invention imitary is nothing. Sagacity with a Vengeance! I fhould be asham'd to ow my self a piece of a Scholar, to pretend to the Task of a Editor, and to pafs fuch Stuff as this upon the World for g nuine. Who ever heard of Invention imitary? Invention an Imitation have ever been accounted two diftin& Things. Th Speech is by a Pedant, who frequently throws in a Word o Latin amongst his English; and he is here flourishing upon th Merit of Invention, beyond That of Imitation, or copying after another. My Correction makes the Whole fo plain and intelligible, that, I think, it carries Conviction along with it Again: So doth the Hound his Mafter, the Ape his Keeper, the tired Horfe his Rider. The Pedant here, to run down Imitation, fhews that it is a Quality within the Capacity of Beafts: that the Dog and the Ape are taught to copy Tricks by their Mafter and Keeper; and fo is the tir'd Horfe by his Rider. This laft is a wonderful Inftance; but it happens not to be true. Mr. Warburton ingenioufly faw, that the Author must have wrote the tryed Horle |