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Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
Then I must not say no.
SCENE IV.-Langley. The Duke of York's Garden.
Enter the QUEEN and two Ladies. Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden, To drive away the heavy thought of care ?
1 Lady. Madam, we 'll play at bowls.
Queen. ’T will make me think the world is full of rubs, And that my fortune runs 'gainst the bias.
1 Lady. Madam, we'll dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
1 Lady. Madam, we 'll tell tales. Queen.
Of sorrow, or of joy ? a 1 Lady. Of either, madam. Queen.
Of neither, girl :
1 Lady. Madam, I 'll sing.
'T is well that thou hast cause; But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep.
1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. Queen. And I could sing," would weeping do me good,
Of sorrow or of joy? All the old copies read of sorrow or of grief, which the context clearly shows to be an error. It was corrected by Pope.
b And I could sing. Thus all the old copies; but Pope, having corrected the error just above, was satisfied that another error existed, and changed sing to weep.
And never borrow any tear of thee.
Enter a Gardener and two Servants.
My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
[QUEEN and Ladies retire.
1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale,
This reading has been adopted in all subsequent editions. We believe that the original was right, and that the sense of the passage was mistaken. The speaks constantly of her sorrow, it may be presumed does weep, or has been weeping. The lady offers to sing, but the queen desires sympathy:-“ Thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep.” The lady could weep,
66 would it do you good.” The queen rejoins,
“And I could sing, would weeping do me good.” If my griefs were removed by weeping,-if my tears could take away my sorrow,-I should be ready to sing,—I could sing, and then, my sorrows being past, I would never borrow any tear of thee," --not ask thee to weep, as I did just now.
Apricocks. Our modern apricot is from the French abricot. But the name came with the fruit from Persia--bricoc; and we probably derived it from the Italian. Florio, in his “ New World of Words,' has “Berricocoli-Apricockplumbes."
Her knots disorder'd,a and her wholesome herbs
Hold thy peace
1 Serv. What, are they dead?
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be depos’d?
Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos’d, 'Tis doubt, he will be : Letters came last night To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, That tell black tidings. Queen. O, I am press’d to death through want of speak
ing ! Thou, old Adam's likeness, [coming from her concealment]
set to dress this garden,
a Knots disorder'd. The symmetrical beds of a garden were the knots. (See • Love's Labour's Lost,' Illustrations of Act I.)
b We is not in the original copies; but it renders the construction less ambiguous. The metrical arrangement is confused in the old copies; but we adhere to the original as much as possible,
How dares thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing
Gard. Pardon me, madam : little joy have I
[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies. Gard. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse, I would
skill were subject to thy curse.-
1 SCENE II.
" There the antic sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp." We have given a fac-simile from the seventh in the fine series of woodcuts called Imagines mortis, improperly attributed to Holbein. It is a wonderful composition ; and it is by no means improbable, as suggested by Douce, that the engraving furnished Shakspere with the hint of these splendid lines.
2 SCENE III. “ By the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones.” The reverence in which the memory of this illustrious king was held by his de. scendants, and by the people, made this oath of peculiar solemnity. And yet Bolingbroke violated it in an oath-breaking age.