[Footnote 1: "A string of similes," says one, "proper to be hung up in the cabinet of a prince."] _King_. D--n all thou hast seen!--dost thou, beneath the shape Of Gaffer Thumb, come hither to abuse me With similes, to keep me on the rack? Hence--or, by all the torments of thy hell, [1] I'll run thee through the body, though thou'st none. [Footnote 1: This passage hath been understood several different ways by the commentators. For my part, I find it difficult to understand it at all. Mr Dryden says-- I've heard something how two bodies meet, But how two souls join I know not. So that, till the body of a spirit be better understood, it will be difficult to understand how it is possible to run him through it. ] _Ghost_. Arthur, beware! I must this moment hence, Not frighted by your voice, but by the cocks! Arthur, beware, beware, beware, beware! Strive to avert thy yet impending fate; For, if thou'rt kill'd to-day, To-morrow all thy care will come too late. SCENE III.--KING (_solus_). _King_. Oh! stay, and leave me not uncertain thus! And, whilst thou tellest me what's like my fate, Oh! teach me how I may avert it too! Curst be the man who first a simile made! Curst ev'ry bard who writes!--So have I seen Those whose comparisons are just and true, And those who liken things not like at all. The devil is happy that the whole creation Can furnish out no simile to his fortune. SCENE IV.--KING, QUEEN. _Queen_. What is the cause, my Arthur, that you steal Thus silently from Dollallolla's breast? Why dost thou leave me in the [1] dark alone, When well thou know'st I am afraid of sprites? [Footnote 1: Cydaria is of the same fearful temper with Dollallolla. I never durst in darkness be alone. --_Indian Emperor_. ] _King_. Oh, Dollallolla! do not blame my love! I hop'd the fumes of last night's punch had laid Thy lovely eyelids fast.--But, oh! I find There is no power in drams to quiet wives; Each morn, as the returning sun, they wake, And shine upon their husbands. _Queen_. Think, oh think! What a surprise it must be to the sun, Rising, to find the vanish'd world away. What less can be the wretched wife's surprise When, stretching out her arms to fold thee fast, She found her useless bolster in her arms. [1] Think, think, on that.--Oh! think, think well on that. I do remember also to have read [2] In Dryden's Ovid's Metamorphoses, That Jove in form inanimate did lie With beauteous Danae: and, trust me, love, [3] I fear'd the bolster might have been a Jove. [Footnote 1: Think well of this, think that, think every way.--_Sophon_.] [Footnote 2: These quotations are more usual in the comick than in the tragick writers.]