Introduction.— “Light! I salute thee, but with wounded nerves, Wishing thy golden splendour pitchy darkness.” There is no reason to suppose Satan's address to the sun in the Paradise Lost, more than a mere coincidence with these lines; but were it otherwise, it would be a fine instance what usurious interest a great genius pays in borrowing. It would not be difficult to give a detailed psychological proof from these constant outbursts of anxious self-assertion, that Jonson was not a genius, a creative power. Subtract that one thing, and you may safely accumulate on his name all other excellences of a capacious, vigorous, agile, and richly-stored intellect. Act i. sc. 1.— “Ovid. While slaves be false, fathers hard, and bawds be whorish.” The roughness noticed by Theobald and Whalley, may be cured by a simple transposition:— “While fathers hard, slaves false, and bawds be whorish.” Act. iv. sc. 3— “Crisp. O—oblatrant—furibund—fatuate—strenuous. O—conscious.” It would form an interesting essay, or rather series of essays, in a periodical work, were all the attempts to ridicule new phrases brought together, the proportion observed of words ridiculed which have been adopted, and are now common, such as [pg 267] |