All that pretend to stand for't on the stage: The ladies ask, who's that? for they do come To see us, love, as we do to see them. Now I shall lose all this, for the false fear Let me have such another cloke to-morrow, too; Shall I forbid them? No, let heaven forbid them : Or wit, if it have any charge on 'em. Come, thy ear wife, Is all I'll borrow of thee.-Set your watch, sir. Thou only art to hear, not speak a word, dove, To aught he says: that I do give you in precept, No less than counsel, on your wivehood, wife, Not though he flatter you, or make court, or love, As you must look for these, or say he rail; Whate'er his arts be, wife, I will have thee Delude them with a trick, thy obstinate silence. I know advantages; and I love to hit These pragmatic young men at their own weapons. Is your watch ready? Here my sail bears for you: Tack toward him, sweet pinnace. [He disposes his wife to her place.] Where's your watch? Wit. I'll set it, sir, with yours. Mrs. Fitz. I must obey. [Aside. Man. Her modesty seems to suffer with her beauty, And so, as if his folly were away, It were worth pity. Fitz. Now they are right; begin, sir.' But first, let me repeat the contract briefly. 3 Now they are right.] i. e. the watches. Whalley says that the old copy has Now thou art right, meaning his wife; but he is mistaken, it reads as in the text, I am, sir, to enjoy this cloke I stand in, This is your covenant? Wit. Yes, but you'll allow For this time spent now? Fitz. Set them so much back. Wit. I think I shall not need it. Fitz. Well, begin, sir, There is your bound, sir; not beyond that rush. Wit. If you interrupt me, sir, I shall discloke you. The time I have purchased, lady, is but short; I hope I stand the nearer to my pardon. And at all caracts.] i. e. to the nicest point, to the minutest circumstance. Caracts, as Whalley has somewhere before observed, are the weights by which gold and precious stones are weighed and valued. As scarce hath soul, Instead of salt to keep it sweet.] See vol. iv. p. 474. Will ask no witnesses to prove. The cold Sheets that you lie in, with the watching candle, That sees, how dull to any thaw of beauty, Pieces and quarters, half and whole nights sometimes, The devil-given elfin squire, your husband, Doth leave you, quitting here his proper circle, For a much worse, in the walks of Lincoln's-inn, Under the elms, t' expect the fiend in vain there, Will confess for you. Fitz. I did look for this jeer. Wit. And what a daughter of darkness he does Lock'd up from all society, or object; Of spells, or spirits, may assure you, lady. Fitz. No, I except Wit. Sir, I shall ease you. Fitz. Mum. [He offers to discloke him. Wit. Nor have I ends, lady, Upon you, more than this: to tell you how Love, Which now I've purchased, than for all aims else Think of it, lady, be your mind as active Let not the sign of the husband fright you, lady; Fitz. Now the sport comes. Let him still wait, wait, wait; while the watch goes, And the time runs, wife! Wit. How! not any word? Nay, then I taste a trick in't.-Worthy lady, you, And you are denied the liberty of the house, Let me take warrant, lady, from your silence, Fugit hora: hoc quod loquor, inde est. Pers. Sat. 5. WHAL. To be so near, and yet miss, is unlucky: is not the expression rather from Horace? dum loquimur, fugerit invida Etas, carpe diem, &c. 7 Yet, since your cautelous jailor] Our old writers seem to have included in this word not only the sense of wariness, but also of something artful and insidious, ingrafted upon it. Which ever is interpreted consent, To make your answer for you; which shall be Fitz. No, no, no, no. Wit. I shall resume, sir. Man. Sir, what do you mean? Wit. One interruption more, sir, and you go Into your hose and doublet, nothing saves you: And therefore hearken. This is for your wife. Man. You must play fair, sir. Wit. Stand for me, good friend.— [Sets Manly in his place, and speaks for the lady. Troth, sir, 'tis more than true that you have utter'd Of my unequal and so sordid match here, In many instances, I will not say in all, it is clearly distinguished from cautious. Thus Knolles, "The Turke began to shrinke from that he had before promised, by cautelous expositions of his meaning." Hist. of the Turks, p. 904. Now I am on this subject, I will take the opportunity" of protesting against a singular practice" of the late editor of Beaumont and Fletcher, very injurious to the reputation of those writers. Whenever this gentleman is at a loss for the precise meaning of a word, he sets down the first which occurs to him, and observes that "its vague import is owing to the general laxity of language which prevailed in those times." It is not a little presumptuous in a foreigner who, like Mr. Weber, grubs all his knowledge of English out of glossaries and indexes, to call in question the proficiency of such writers as Beaumont, Fletcher, and others, the politest scholars, and best informed men of their time, in their own language. The fact is, (and I mention it for the sake of far other critics than Mr. Weber,) that they were in possession of a more precise and copious vocabulary than ourselves, and that they had a most profound and critical knowledge of every part of it. The difficulty which Mr. Weber finds in ascertaining their meaning, originates in his ignorance of the English tongue. |