]

[Footnote 6:
I will take thy scorpion blood,
And lay it to my grief till I have ease.--_Anna Bullen_.
]

_Glum_. What do I hear?
_King_. What do I see?
_Glum_. Oh!
_King_. Ah!
[1]_Glum_. Ah! wretched queen!
_King_. Oh! wretched king!
[2]_Glum_. Ah!
_King_. Oh!


[Footnote 1: Our author, who everywhere shews his great penetration
into human nature, here outdoes himself: where a less judicious poet
would have raised a long scene of whining love, he, who understood the
passions better, and that so violent an affection as this must be too
big for utterance, chuses rather to send his characters off in this
sullen and doleful manner, in which admirable conduct he is imitated
by the author of the justly celebrated Eurydice. Dr Young seems to
point at this violence of passion:

--Passion choaks
Their words, and they're the statues of despair.

And Seneca tells us, "Curse leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent." The