This is, undoubtedly, fweet and fimple, but much inferior to the fenfation and fentiment of, The fairest of her daughters, when he first beheld her lover and her lord in a state of innocence. That day I oft remember, when from sleep Under a shade, on flowers, much wondering where And And I will bring thee where no fhadow stays Multitudes like thyfelf, and thence be call'd. Than that smooth watry image; back I-return'd, So fpake our general mother, and with eyes On On Juno fmiles, when he impregns the clouds The gallantries of Miranda and Ferdinand, however beautiful, come not up to the courtship of our firft parents in Paradife. For, in the fubfequent paffages, Ferdinand is too quaint, and Miranda, for fo fequeftered a character, fomewhat too forward: FER. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; (I would, not fo!) and would no more endure This wooden flavery, than I would fuffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my foul fpeak; The very inftant that I faw you, did My heart fly to your fervice, there refides. To make my flave to it, and for your fake, Am I this patient log-man. MIRA. Do you love me? FER. O heav'n, O earth, bear witnefs to this found, And crown what I profefs with kind event, If I fpeak true; if hollowly, invert MIRA. I am a fool, To To weep at what I'm glad of. FER. Wherefore weep you? MIRA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer, What I defire to give; and much less take, What I fhall die to want: but this is trifling; And all the more it feeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it fhews. Hence bafhful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me : If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow, FER. My mistress, deareft, MIRA. My husband, then? FER. Ay, with a heart as willing, As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand. MIRA. And mine, with my heart in't; and now, farewel, Till half an hour hence. FER. A thoufand, thousand. The fourteen words of And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed. Imply more, and bring the meaning nearer to the heart. The blush of shame was was not indeed, yet known; and the only rofes that painted the human face, were the rofes of health and beauty. The man and his wife, as yet, understood not that nakedness discovered ought indelicate, or mysterious. Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame Hence then, it is apparent, that the figleaf was not introduced until imagination became corrupt, and a train of vicious paffions feized upon the heart. If fuch the origin of dress, if fuch the history of external decoration, how few reasons have we to plume ourselves upon our finery! |