Footnotes
[177:4] O rare Ben Jonson!—Sir John Young: Epitaph.
[177:5] Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat.—Wither: Poem on Christmas.
Get place and wealth,—if possible, with grace;
If not, by any means get wealth and place.
Pope: Horace, book i. epistle i. line 103.
[178:1] There is no love lost between us.—Cervantes: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. xxxiii.
[178:2] A translation from Bonnefonius.
[178:3] The flattering, mighty, nay, almighty gold.—Wolcot: To Kien Long, Ode iv.
Almighty dollar.—Irving: The Creole Village.
[179:1] Ἐμοὶ δὲ μόνοις πρόπινε τοῖς ὄμμασιν. . . . Εἰ δὲ βούλει, τοῖς χείλεσι προσφέρουσα, πλήρου φιλημάτων τὸ ἔκπωμα, κaὶ οὕτως δίδου
(Drink to me with your eyes alone. . . . And if you will, take the cup to your lips and fill it with kisses, and give it so to me).
Philostratus: Letter xxiv.
Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie
A little nearer Spenser, to make room
For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb.
Basse: On Shakespeare.
[179:3] This epitaph is generally ascribed to Ben Jonson. It appears in the editions of his Works; but in a manuscript collection of Browne's poems preserved amongst the Lansdowne MS. No. 777, in the British Museum, it is ascribed to Browne, and awarded to him by Sir Egerton Brydges in his edition of Browne's poems.
They never taste who always drink;
They always talk who never think.
Prior: Upon a passage in the Scaligerana.
What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
Pope: To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady.
JOHN WEBSTER. —— -1638.
I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exit.[180:3]
Duchess of Malfi. Act iv. Sc. 2.
'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,—the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.[180:4]
The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2.
Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
So may you blame some fair and crystal river
For that some melancholic, distracted man
Hath drown'd himself in 't.
The White Devil. Act iii. Sc. 2.
[[181]]
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Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But look'd too near have neither heat nor light.[181:1]
The White Devil. Act iv. Sc. 4.
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
The White Devil. Act. v. Sc. 2.
Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burns brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are soundest.[181:2]
Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2.
I saw him now going the way of all flesh.
Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2.