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While I sat whyrland of my brazen spindle : She feels a hurt, but were, she cannot show
At every twisted thrid my rock let tiy Any least sign, that she is hurt or no.
Unto the sew'ster, who did sit me nigh, Her pain's not doubtful to her; but the seat
Under the town turnpike; which ran each Of her pain is. Her thoughts too work and
spell

beat,
She stitched in the work, and knit it well. Opprest with cares: but why she cannot say.
See ye take tent to this, and ken your

All matter of her care is quite away. mother.

Mar. Hath any vermin broke into your

foki? SCE N E IV.

any rot sciz'd on your flock? or cold ? Marian, Mellifleur, Amie.

1 Or hath your feiting ram burst his hard

horn? Mar. How do you, sweet Amie, yet? Or any ewe her flecce? or bag hath torn, Mel. She cannot tell ;

My gentle Amie? If she could sleep, she says, she should do well. rim. Marian, none of these. tique air upon the piece : especially in this romantic description of the embroidered girdle. Our old authors are frequent in the use of this Saxon ending; and it is generally corrupted at the press. Thus we read in Spenser,

“ His glitter and armour shined far away ;" where we have the same mistake with that above, in dividing the participle glitterand. Another of the same nature occurs in the last scene of Shakspeare's Troilus and Cressidu. As this was pointed out to me by my friend Mr. Sympson, I beg leave to communicate it, with bis remarks and correction. The line is,

“ Make wells und Niobes of our maids and wives.” Mr. Warburton reads welling Niobes ; but he has overlooked the true word, though he has hit the sense.

For certainly the old reading was, make welland Niobes. Some ignorant transcriber had wrote, make well and Niobes, which, when it came to the press, not being sense, had an s put to well; and thence came wdls und Niobes, &c. The word tike signifies a dog, and is yet used in Yorkshire, and the northern parts of England : indeed all the rustic speeches in this play, are a specimen of the northern dialect. The progress of Hecate over new-made graves, and the barking of the dogs, are taken from the superstitions of antiquity; Theocritus describes her in the same manner :

Εκαλα, ταν και σκυλακες τρομεον.

Ερχομεναν νεκυων ανατ’ ηρια, και μελααιμα Idyll. 2,
10 Unto the sew'ster, who did sit me nigh,

Under the town turn-pike; which ran each spell
She stitched in the work, and knit it well.

See that you take tent to this.] There is a difficulty in these lines, which at first much perplexed me; but the reader, I hope, will think the following interpretation in some measure gets rid of it. The's w'ster, or spinster, is said to sit under the town turnpike : but what is that? the same with what is now more usually called a turn-stile, often placed at the end of towns, for preventing horses from coming into the foot-way. In this sense it occurs in our author's Staple of News,

“ I move upon my axle like a turnpike.” Act 3. And so it is at this day used in the neighbouring county, where part of the scene lies. What follows leads us to imagine, that this turnpike, by its whirling inotion, served to knit the spell more firmly into the work they were about ; just as we see the wheel commonly made use of in twisting the several cords wbich compose a rope or piece of twine ; though we may suppose likewise that the turnpike only ran, or turned round, as the spell was repeating; and served in the nature of the antient Rhombus, which was of constant use in magicai incantations. Jonson seems to have alluded likewise to the story of the antient Destinies or Parca, one of which held the distaff, whilst another spun the thread. The expressions he here uses are classical, and what the old poets employ, when speaking of these fatal sisters;

-which ran cach spell,

She stitched in the work, and knit it well.
In this view the words, ran each spell, which would appear otherwise obscure, are pertinent
and clear. Catullus uses the same phrase in the chorus line, where they are singing the
future birth and fortunes of Achilles, at the wedding of Peleus :

Currite, ducentes subtemira, currite fusi.
And to this Virgil seems to allude in his Eclogue to Pollio;

Talia secla suis dicebant, currite, fusis

Concordes stabili fatorum numine parcie.
In the last line, the particle that is superfluous; take tent, is take notice, take heed to it.
2. Or hath your feiring run.] i. e. butting, fighting ram.

angry bees?

Mar. Ha' you been stung by wasps, or

(briar? Or ras'd with some rude bramble or rough Am. No, Marian, my disease is somewhat

nigher. I weep, and boil away myself in tears ; And then my panting heart would dry those

fears : I burn, though all the forest lend a shade ; And freeze, though the whole wood one fire

were made. Mar. Alas!

(briar, Am. I often have been torn with thorn and Both in the leg and foot, and somewhat

higher : Yet gave not then such fearful shrieks as

these. Ah! I often have been stung too with curst bees, Yet not remember that I then did quit Either my company or mirth for it. Ah ! And therefore what it is that I feel now, And know no cause of it, nor where, nor

how, It enter'd in me, nor least print can sec, I feel, afilicts me more than briar or bee. Oh!

[birth, How often, when the sun, heaven's brightest Hath with his burning fervour cleft

the earth, Under a spreading elm or oak, hard by A cool clear fountain, could I sleeping lie Safe from the heat ? but now no shady tree, Nor purling brook, can my refreshing be. Oft when the meadows were grown rough

with frost, The rivers ice-bound, and their currents lost, My thick warm fleece I wore, was my defence;

[thence. Or large good fires I made, drave winter But now my whole flocks fells, nor this thick

grove,
Enflam’d to ashes, can my cold remove.
It is a cold and heat that does out-go
All sense of winters, and of summers so.

Would better fit their palates, than your

venison. Mar. What riddle's this? unfold your

self, dear Robin. Rob. You ha' not sent your venison

hence by Scathlock, To mother Maudlin ?

Mur. I, to mother Maudlin ? Will Scathlock say so?

Rob. Nay, we will all swear so. [so, For all did hear it when you gave the charge Both Clarion, Alken, Lionel, and myself. Alur. Good honest shepherds, masters of your flocks,

[lings: Simple and virtuous men, no others hireBe not you made to speak against your conscience,

(venison That which may soil the truth. I send the Away by Scatblock? and to mother Maud

lin? I came to shew it bere to Mellifleur, I do confess; but Amie's falling ill Did put us off it: since we employ'd our

selves In comforting of her. O, here he is!

[Scathlock enters Did I, sir, bid you bear away the venison To mother Maudlin?

Sou. I, gud faith, inadam, "Did you, and I ha' done it.

Mur. What ha' you done?
Sca. Obey'd your hests, madam ; done

your commands.
Mar. Done my commands, dull groom!
fetch it again,

[arts, Or kennel with the hounds. Are these the Robin, you read " your rude ones o' the wood,

(ings To countenance your quarrels and mistak. Or are the sports to entertain your friends Those formed jealousies? ask of Mellifleur, If I were ever from her, here, or Amie, Since I caine in with them; or saw this

Scatblock Since I related to you his tale o' the raven? Scu. I, say you so ?

(Scathlock goes out. Mel. She never left my side Since I came here, nor I hers. Cla. This is strange!

(then Our best of senses were deceir'd, our eyes,

Lio. And ears too.

Mar. What you have concluded on, Make good, I pray you.

Am. O my heart, my heart ! (Amie;

Mar. My heart it is, is wounded, pretty Report not you your griefs : I'll tell for all. Alel. Somebody is to blame, there is a

fault.

SCENE V.
Robin Hood, Clarion, Lionel, Alken.
Rob. O, are you here, my mistress ?
Mar. I, my love!

[She seeing him, runs to embrace him. Where should I be but in my Robin's arms? The sphere which I delight in so to move ! Rob. What, the rude ranger? and spied

spy ? hand off : You are for no such rusticks.

[He puts her back. Mar. What means this, [know ye? Thrice worthy Clarion ? or wise Alken? Rob. 'Las, no not they! a poor starv'd

mutton's carcase

12

- Are these the arts You READ your rude ones ?] Read is an old English word signifying to teach, or advise. Hence the substantive read, or rede, for counsel. Thus in the first Psalın by Hopkins,

" The man is blest that hath not lent

" To wicked read his ear."

seasons

Mar. Try if you can take rest. A little Red deer is head still of the forest feasts.
slumber

Maud. But I knaw ye, a right free-hearted Will much refresh you, Amie.

lady,
Alk. What's her grief? [is happy. Can spare it out of superfluity: [bours,
Mar. She does not know : and therein she I have departit it ’mong my poor neigh-

To speak your largess.
SCEN E VI.

Mar. I not gave it, mother. [place [To them.] John, Maudlin, and Scathlock

You have done wrong then: I know how to afier.

My gifts, and where; and when to find my John. Here's mother Maudlin come to

To give, not throw away my courtesies. give you thanks, [ceiv'd

Mauá. Count you this thrown away? 28 Madam, for some late gift she hath re- Mar. What's ravish'd from me Which she's not worthy of, she says, but I count it worse, as stol’n : I lose my thanks. cracks,

But leave this quest: they fit not you nor And wonders of it ; hops about the house,

me, Transported with the joy. [She danceth.

Maudlin, contentions of this quality.
Maud. Send me a stag!

How now?

(Scathlock enters. A whole stag, madam, and so fat a deer! Sca. Your stag's return'd upon my So fairly hunted, and at such a time 100!

shoulders, When all your friends were here !

He has found his way into the kitchen again Rob. Do you mark this, Clarion ?

With his two legs; if now your cook can Her own acknowledginent ?

dress hin.

(beat me, Maud. 'Twas such a bounty

Slid, I thought the swineherd would ha' And honour done to your poor beads-woman, He looks so big! the sturdy karl, lewd I know not how to owe it, but to thank you;

Lorel !
And that I come to do: I shall

go
round,

Mar. There, Scathlock, for thy pains, And giddy with the toy of the good turn.

thou hast deserv'd it. [She turns round till she falls.

[Marian gives him gold. “ Look out, look out, gay folk about,

Mfaud. Do you give a thing, and take a “ And see me spin the ring I'm in

thing, madam? “ Of mirth and glee, with thanks for fee

Mar. No, Maudlin, you had imparted to “ The heart puts on, for th' venison

your neighbours; [wrong. “ My lady sent, which shall be spent

As much good do't thein : I ha’ done no “ In draughts of wine, to fume up fine “ Into the brain, and down again

The First CHARM.
“ Fall in a swoon, upo' the grown.”

Maud. “The spit stand still, no broches
Rob. Look to her, she is mad.
Maud. My son hath sent you

“ Before the fire, but let it burn A pot of strawberries, gather'd i' the wood

“ Both sides and hanches, till the (His hogs would else have rooted up, or

whole trod ??)

Converted be into one cole." With a choice dish of wildings here, to scald And mingle with your creain.

Cla. What devil's pater-noster mumbles

she? Mar. Thank you, good Maudlin,

[witchery. And thank your son. Go, bear 'em in to Alk. Stay, you will hear more of her Much

(mother, Th' acater, let him thank her. Surely,

II. You were mistaken, or my woodmen more, Maud. “ The swilland dropsic enter in Or most myself, to send you all our store

“ The lazy cuke, and swell his Of venison, hunted for ourselves this day !

skin; You will not take it, mother, I dare say,

“ And the old mort-mal on his shin If we'll entreat you, when you know our

“ Now prick, and itch, withouten guests: "} His hogs would else hace rooted up, or trod.] · This reminds us of the Calabrian host's civility in Horace, from whom it seems to be copied.

Ut libet, hæc porcis hodie comedenda relinques.
** NO BROCHES turn.] A broche is explained to signify a spit.
15 And the old MORT-MAL on his shin

Now prick, and itch, wiTHOUTEN BLIN.] Mort-mal is an old sore, or gangrene: withouten blin is without ceasing ; from the A. S. blinnan, to cease, leave of: And Jonson seems to have had Chaucer's character of the cook in his eye ;

“ But great harme was it, as it thought me,
That on his shynne a mor-mal had he.”—

"Chaucer.

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blin 5.

Clo. Speak out, hag, we may hear your
devil's mattins.

III.
Maud. “The pæne we call St. Anton's

fire,
" Thegout, or what we can desire,
" To cramp a cuke, in every
limb,

[him.” “ Before they dine, yet seize on Alk. A foul ill spirit hath possessed ber. Am. O Karol, Karol, call him back again. Lio. Her thoughts do work upon her in

her slumber, And may express some part of her disease. Rob. Observe, and mark, but trouble not

her ease.
Am. 0, 0.
Mar. How is't, Amie?
Mel. Wherefore start you?
Am. 0, Karrol, he is fair and sweet.
Maud. What then?

[men? Are there not flowers as sweet and fair as The lily is fair, and rose is sweet!

Am I, so!
Let all the roses and the lilies go :
Karol is only fair to me!

Mar. And why?

Am. Alas, for Karol, Marian, I could die. Karol, he singeth sweetly too! Maud. What then?

[men ? Are there not birds sing sweeter far than Am. I grant the linet, lark, and bull-finch

sing, But best the dear good angel of the spring, The nightingale":

Maud. Then why? then why, alone, Should his notes please you?

Am. I not long agone Took a delight with wanton kids to play, And sport with little lambs a summer's-day! And view their frisks! methought it was a

sight Of joy to see my two brave rams to fight ! Now Karol only all delight doth move, All that is Karrol, Karrol I approve!?! This very morning but-I did bestow (It was a little 'gainst my will I know) A single kiss upon the silly swain, And now I wish that very kiss again. His lip is softer, sweeter than the rose; His mouth and tongue with dropping honey

flows.

The relish of it was a pleasing thing. Maud. Yet, like the bees, it had a Ittk sting.

[row deep: Am. And sunk, and sticks yet in my ne And what doth hurt me, I now wish to keep

Mar. Alas, how innocent her story is !

Am. I do remember, Marian, I have at With pleasure kist my lambs and pupp

soft: And once a dainty fine roe-fawn I had, Of whose out-skipping bounds, I was as ca. As of my health : and him I oft would kisa Yet had his no such sting or pain as this

. They never prick'd or hurt my heart. Are,

for They were so blunt and dull, I wisho

[this sweet But this, that hurts and pricks, doth please: Mingled with sowre, I wish again to meet:, And that delay, methinks, most tedious, That keeps or binders me of Karol's hiss. Mar. We'll send for him, sweet Anne,

come to you. Maud. But I will keep him off, if charts will do it.

[She goes murmuring ca. Cla. Do you mark the murmuring ba

how she doth nutter? Rob. I like her not. And less ber ma:

more.

Ders now.

Alk. She is a shrewd deformed piece, i

VOW.

Lio. As crooked as her body.

Rob. I believe She can take any shape, as Scathlock sars

Alk. She may deceive the sense, but real She cannot change herself.

Rob. Would I could see her Once more in Marian's formi! for I am cf*

tain Now, it was she abus'd us; as I think My Marian, and my love, now innocent: Which faith I seal unto her with this kiss, And call you all to witness of my penance Alk. It was believ'd before, but now COC

firm'd, That we have seen the monster.

SCENE VII. [To them.] Tuck, John, Much, Scarlet.

Tuck. Hear you how Poor Tom the cook is taken ! all his joints

16 But best, the dear good angel of the spring,

The nightingale.] This exquisitely poetical description of the nightingale, is a literal translation from the Greek of Sappho : 'ungel is used in its original signification of a messenger, or harbinger ;

Ηρος αγελος Ιμεροφωνος Αηδων17 All that is Karol, Karol I approve.] We cannot help observing the repetition of the name of Karol, in this and the preceding verses, which Amie seems to dwell on with a sor gular delight. This is an effect of the poet's art'; and a beauty of the same kind with that in Horace,

Cum tu, Lydia, Telephi

Cervicem roseum, cerea Telephi
Laudas brachia, &c. Lib. 1. od. 13.

Do crack, as if his limbs were tied with Alk. I have ask'd leave to assist you, jolly points :

[rack
huntsmen,

[you;
His whole frame slackens ; and a kind of If an old shepherd may be heard among
Runs down along the spondils of his back; Nor jear'd or laught at.
A gout or cramp now seizeth on his head, John. Father, you will see
Then falls into his feet; his knees are lead; Robin flood's houshold know more courtesy.
And he can stir his either hand no more

Scat. Who scorns at eld, peels off his own Than a dead stump, to his office, as before.

young

hairs. Alk. He is bewitched.

Alk. Ye say right well: know ye the Cla. This is an argument

witches dell? Both of her inalice and her power, we see.

Scar. No more than I do know the walks Alk. She must by some device restrained

of hell. be,

Alk. Within a gloomy dingle 18 she doth Or she'll go far in mischief.

dwell,

[briars, Rob. Advise how,

Down in a pit, o'ergrown with brakes and Sage shepherd, we shall put it straight in Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey, practice.

Torn with an earthquake down unto the Alk. Send forth your woodmen then, into

ground,

[nel-house, the walks,

'Mongst graves and grots, near an old charOr let 'em prick her footing hence; a witch Where you shall find her sitting in her Is sure a creature of melancholy,

fourm, And will be found or sitting in her fourm, As fearful and melancholique as that Or else, at relief, like a hare.

She is about; with caterpillar's kells, Cla. You speak,

And knotty cob-webs, rounded in with Alken, as if you knew the sport of witch

spells: hunting,

Thence she steals forth to relief in the fogs Or starting of a hag.

And rotten mists, upon the fens and bogs, [Enter George to the huntsmen ; who by Down to the drowned lands of Lincolnshire;

themselves continue the scene , the rest To make ewes cast their lambs! swine eat going of

their farrow ! Rob. Go, sirs, about it,

The house-wives tun not work! nor the milk Take George, here, with you, he can help

churn ! to find her;

Writhe children's wrists! and suck their Leave Tuck and Much behind to dress the

breath in sleep! dinner,

Get vials of their blood! and where the sea I' the cook's stead,

Casts up his slimy owze, search for a weed Muc. We'll care to get that done. To open locks with, and to rivet charms, Rob. Come, Marian, let's withdraw into Planted about her in the wicked feat the bower.

Of all her mischiefs, which are manifoid.

John. I wonder such a story could be told SCENE VIII.

Of her dire deeds.

Geo. I thought a witch's banks John, Scarlet, Scathlock, George, Alken.

Had inclos'd nothing but the merry pranks Jolin. Rare sport, I swear, this hunting of Of some old woman. the witch

Scar. Yes, her malice more! Will make us.

Scat. As it would quickly appear had we Scur. Let's advise upon't like huntsmen.

the store Geo. An' we can spy her once, she is our Of his collects.

Ges. I, this gud learned man Scat. First, think which way she fourmeth, Can speak her right. on what wind;

Scar. He knows her shifts and haunts ! Or north, or south.

alk. Aud all her wiles and turns. The Geo. For as the shepherd said,

venom'd plants A witch is a kind of hare.

Wherewith she kills! where the sad manScat. And marks the weather, As the hare does.

Whose groans are deathful! the dead-numJohn. Where shall we hope to find her?

ming night-shade! [Alken returns. The stupifying hemlock! adders tongue ! 1Within a gloomy DIMBLE she doth dwell.] Dimble is the reading of all the copies, but Mr. Sympson suspects it a corruption; the word he would substitute in its room is dingle, which hath the authority of Milton in his Comus :

I know each alley,

Dingle, and bushy dell of this dark wood.” We have the same inistake in the account of the scenery; where the witches dimble should be dingle.

own.

drake grows,

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