Both the sense and measure of the third line, which, as it rhymes, ought, according to the practice of this author, to be regular, are, at present, injured by two superfluous syllables, which may easily be removed by reading,
—souls That trace his line:—No boasting like a fool.
NOTE XXXVIII.
SCENE III.
Rosse. My dearest cousin,
I pray you, school yourself: But for your husband,
He's noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o'th'time, I dare not speak much further,
But cruel are the times when we are traitors,
And do not know't ourselves, when we (a)hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and (b)move. I'll take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before: my pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!
(a)—When we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.
The present reading seems to afford no sense; and, therefore, some critical experiments may be properly tried upon it, though, the verses being without any connexion, there is room for suspicion, that some intermediate lines are lost, and that the passage is, therefore, irretrievable. If it be supposed that the fault arises only from the corruption of some words, and that the traces of the true reading are still to be found, the passage may be changed thus:
—when we bode ruin From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.
Or, in a sense very applicable to the occasion of the conference:
—when the bold, running
From what they fear, yet know not what they fear.