I’ll never more live with you,’ &c.
which is in the manner of, and equal to, Deckar’s finest things:—and others, in a quite different style of fanciful poetry and bewildered passion; such as the lamentation of Cornelia, his mother, for the death of Marcello, and the parting scene of Brachiano; which would be as fine as Shakespear, if they were not in a great measure borrowed from his inexhaustible store. In the former, after Flamineo has stabbed his brother, and Hortensio comes in, Cornelia exclaims,
‘Alas! he is not dead; he’s in a trance.
Why, here’s nobody shall get any thing by his death:
Let me call him again, for God’s sake.
Hor. I would you were deceiv’d.
Corn. O you abuse me, you abuse me, you abuse me! How many have gone away thus, for want of ‘tendance? Rear up ‘s head, rear up ‘s head; his bleeding inward will kill him.
Hor. You see he is departed.
Corn. Let me come to him; give me him as he is. If he be turn’d to earth, let me but give him one hearty kiss, and you shall put us both into one coffin. Fetch a looking-glass: see if his breath will not stain it; or pull out some feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his lips. Will you lose him for a little pains-taking?
Hor. Your kindest office is to pray for him.