ould furnish you with many more instances, but
these are as good as a thousand.

Hence had our author his characteristick knowledge of Brutus and Anthony,
upon which much argumentation for his learning hath been founded: and
hence _literatim_ the Epitaph on Timon, which, it was once presumed, he
had corrected from the blunders of the Latin version, by his own superior
knowledge of the Original.

I cannot, however, omit a passage of Mr. Pope. "The _speeches_ copy'd from
Plutarch in _Coriolanus_ may, I think, be as well made an instance of the
learning of Shakespeare, as those copy'd from Cicero in _Catiline_, of
Ben. Jonson's." Let us inquire into this matter, and transcribe a _speech_
for a specimen. Take the famous one of Volumnia:

Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We've led since thy Exile. Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither; since thy sight, which should
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow;
Making the mother, wife, and child to see
The son, the husband, and the father tearing
His Country's bowels out: and to poor we
Thy enmity's most capital; thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy. For how can we,
Alas! how can we, for our Country pray,
Whereto we're bound, together with thy Victory,
Whereto we're bound? Alack! or we must lose
The Country, our dear nurse; or else thy Person,
Our comfort in the Country. We must find
An eminent calamity, though we had
Our wish, which side shou'd win. For either thou
Must, as a foreign Recreant, be led
With manacles thorough our streets; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy Country's ruin,
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on Fortune, 'till
These wars determine: if I can't persuade thee
Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts,
Than seek the end of one; thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy Country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

I will now give you the old Translation, which shall effectually confute
Mr. Pope: for our Author hath done little more than throw the very words
of Nort