Note return to page 1 1&lblank; in the division of the kingdom,] There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in this preparatory scene. The king has already divided his kingdom, and yet when he enters he examines his daughters, to discover in what proportions he should divide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to his design, which he still kept in his own hands, to be changed or performed as subsequent reasons should determine him. Johnson.

Note return to page 2 2&lblank; equalities &lblank;] So the first quartos; the folio reads— qualities. Johnson. Either may serve; but of the former I find an instance in the Flower of Friendship, 1568: “After this match made, and equalities considered,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3&lblank; that curiosity in neither &lblank;] Curiosity, for exactest scrutiny. The sense of the whole sentence is, The qualities and properties of the several divisions are so weighed and balanced against one another, that the exactest scrutiny could not determine in preferring one share to the other. Warburton. Curiosity is scrupulousness, or captiousness. So, in The Taming of the Shrew, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “For curious I cannot be with you.” Steevens. See Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. III.: and the present tragedy, p. 31, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 4 4&lblank; of either's moiety.] The strict sense of the word moiety is half, one of two equal parts; but Shakspeare commonly uses it for any part or division: “Methinks my moiety north from Burton here, “In quantity equals not one of yours:” and here the division was into three parts. Steevens. Heywood likewise uses the word moiety as synonymous to any part or portion: “I would unwillingly part with the greatest moiety of my own means and fortunes.” Hystory of Women, 1624. See Henry IV. Part I. Act III. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 5 5&lblank; being so proper.] i. e. handsome. See vol. v. p. 21, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 6 6&lblank; some year elder than this,] Some year, is an expression used when we speak indefinitely. Steevens. I do not agree with Mr. Steevens that some year is an expression used when we speak indefinitely. I believe it means about a year; and accordingly Edmund says, in the 32d page— “For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines “Lag of a brother.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 7 *Quartos, purposes.

Note return to page 8 7&lblank; express our darker purpose.] Darker, for more secret; not for indirect, oblique. Warburton. This word may admit a further explication. “We shall express our darker purpose:” that is, we have already made known in some measure our desire of parting the kingdom; we will now discover what has not been told before, the reasons by which we shall regulate the partition. This interpretation will justify or palliate the exordial dialogue. Johnson.

Note return to page 9 8Give me the map there.] So the folio. The quartos, leaving the verse defective, read—The map there. Steevens.

Note return to page 10 9&lblank; and 'tis our fast intent &lblank;] Fast is the reading of the first folio, and, I think, the true reading. Johnson. Our fast intent is our determined resolution. The quartos have —our first intent. Malone.

Note return to page 11 1&lblank; from our age;] The quartos read—of our state. Steevens.

Note return to page 12 2Conferring them on younger strengths,] Is the reading of the folio; the quartos read, Confirming them on younger years. Steevens.

Note return to page 13 3&lblank; while we, &c.] From while we, down to prevented now, is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 14 4&lblank; constant will &lblank;] Seems a confirmation of fast intent. Johnson. Constant is firm, determined. Constant will is the certa voluntas of Virgil. The same epithet is used with the same meaning in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; else nothing in the world “Could turn so much the constitution “Of any constant man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 15 *Quartos, The two great princes.

Note return to page 16 5Since now, &c.] These two lines are omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 17 6Where merit doth most challenge it.] The folio reads: “Where nature doth with merit challenge:” i. e. where the claim of merit is superadded to that of nature; or where a superior degree of natural filial affection is joined to the claim of other merits. Steevens.

Note return to page 18 †First folio, Sir, I love you more.

Note return to page 19 7Gon. Sir, I do love you more than words can wield the matter, &lblank; No less than life,] So, in Holinshed: “&lblank; he first asked Gonorilla the eldest, how well she loved him; who calling hir gods to record, protested that she loved him more than her own life, which by right and reason should be most deere unto hir. With which answer the father being well pleased, turned to the second, and demanded of hir how well she loved him; who answered (confirming hir saieings with great othes,) that she loved him more than toong could expresse, and farre above all other creatures of the world. “Then called he his youngest daughter Cordeilla before him, and asked hir, what account she made of him; unto whom she made this answer as followeth: Knowing the great love and fatherlie zeale that you have alwaies born towards me, (for the which I maie not answere you otherwise than I thinke and as my conscience leadeth me,) I protest unto you that I have loved you ever, and will continuallie (while I live) love you as my natural father. And if you would more understand of the love I bear you, ascertain yourself, that so much as you have, so much you are worth, and so much I love you, and no more.” Malone.

Note return to page 20 *Quartos, friend.

Note return to page 21 8Beyond all manner of so much &lblank;] Beyond all assignable quantity. I love you beyond limits, and cannot say it is so much, for how much soever I should name, it would be yet more. Johnson. Thus Rowe, in his Fair Penitent, Sc. I.: “&lblank; I can only “Swear you reign here, but never tell how much.” Steevens.

Note return to page 22 9&lblank; do?] So the quarto; the folio has speak. Johnson.

Note return to page 23 1&lblank; and with champains rich'd, With plenteous rivers &lblank;] These words are omitted in the quartos. To rich is an obsolete verb. It is used by Thomas Drant, in his translation of Horace's Epistles, 1567: “To ritch his country, let his words lyke flowing water fall.” Steevens. Rich'd is used for enriched, as 'tice for entice, 'bate for abate, 'strain for constrain, &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 24 2&lblank; Speak:] Thus the quartos. This word is not in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 25 3I am made, &c.] Thus the folio. The quarto reads, Sir, I am made of the self-same metal that my sister is. Steevens.

Note return to page 26 4And prize me at her worth, &c.] I believe this passage should rather be pointed thus: “And prize me at her worth, in my true heart “I find, she names,” &c. That is, “And so may you prize me at her worth, as in my true heart I find, that she names,” &c. Tyrwhitt. I believe we should read: “And prize you at her worth.” That is, set the same high value upon you that she does, M. Mason. “Prize me at her worth,” perhaps means, ‘I think myself as worthy of your favour as she is.’ Henley.

Note return to page 27 5Only she comes too short,—that I profess, &c.] That seems to stand without relation, but is referred to find, the first conjunction being inaccurately suppressed. I find that she names my deed, I find that I profess, &c. Johnson. The true meaning is this:—“My sister has equally expressed my sentiments, only she comes short of me in this, that I profess myself an enemy to all joys but you.”—That I profess, means, in that I profess. M. Mason. In that, i. e. inasmuch as, I profess myself, &c. Thus the folio. The quartos read: “Only she came short, that I profess,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 28 6Which the most precious square of sense possesses;] Perhaps square means only compass, comprehension. Johnson. So, in a Parænesis to the Prince, by Lord Sterline, 1604: “The square of reason, and the mind's clear eye.” Golding, in his version of the 6th book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, translates— &lblank; quotiesque rogabat Ex justo— “As oft as he demanded out of square.” i. e. what was unreasonable. Steevens. I believe that Shakspeare uses square for the full complement of all the senses. Edwards.

Note return to page 29 7More richer than my tongue.] The quartos thus: the folio—more ponderous. Steevens. We should read—their tongue, meaning her sisters. Warburton. I think the present reading right. Johnson.

Note return to page 30 8No less in space, validity,] Validity, for worth, value; not for integrity, or good title. Warburton. So, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “The countenance of your friend is of less value than his councel, yet both of very small validity.” Steevens.

Note return to page 31 9&lblank; confirm'd &lblank;] The folio reads, conferr'd. Steevens. Why was not this reading adhered to? It is equally good sense and better English. We confer on a person, but we confirm to him. M. Mason. The same expression is found before, p. 7, with the same variation. Either the folio or the quarto should have been adhered to in both places. To confirm on a person is certainly not English now; but it does not follow that such was the case in Shakspeare's time. The original meaning of the word to establish would easily bear such a construction. Boswell.

Note return to page 32 1&lblank; Now, our joy, &c.] Here the true reading is picked out of two copies. Butter's quarto reads: “&lblank; But now our joy, “Although the last, not least in our dear love, “What can you say to win a third,” &c. The folio: “&lblank; Now our joy, “Although our last, and least; to whose young love “The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, “Strive to be int'ress'd. What can you say,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 33 2Although the last, not least; &c.] So, in the old anonymous play, King Leir speaking to Mumford: “&lblank; to thee last of all; “Not greeted last, 'cause thy desert was small.” Steevens. Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, written before 1593: “The third and last, not least, in our account.” Malone.

Note return to page 34 3Strive to be interess'd;] So, in the Preface to Drayton's Polyolbion: “&lblank; there is scarce any of the nobilitie, or gentry of this land, but he is some way or other by his blood interessed therein.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Sejanus: “Our sacred laws and just authority “Are interess'd therein.” To interest and to interesse, are not, perhaps, different spellings of the same verb, but are two distinct words, though of the same import; the one being derived from the Latin, the other from the French interesser. Steevens.

Note return to page 35 4&lblank; to draw &lblank;] The quarto reads—what can you say, to win. Steevens.

Note return to page 36 5Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing.] These two speeches are wanting in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 37 *Quartos, How! nothing can come.

Note return to page 38 †First folio, no more.

Note return to page 39 6How, how, Cordelia?] Thus the folio. The quartos read —Go to, go to. Steevens.

Note return to page 40 7&lblank; Haply, when I shall wed, &c.] So, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1587, Cordila says: “&lblank; Nature so doth bind and me compell “To love you as I ought, my father, well; “Yet shortly I may chance, if fortune will, “To find in heart to bear another more good will: “Thus much I said of nuptial loves that meant.” Steevens. See also the quotation from Camden's Remaines, in the Preliminary Remarks to this play. Malone.

Note return to page 41 8To love my father all.] These words are restored from the first edition, without which the sense was not complete. Pope.

Note return to page 42 9But goes this with thy heart?] Thus the quartos, and thus I have no doubt Shakspeare wrote, this kind of inversion occurring often in his plays, and in the contemporary writers. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; and make your house our tower.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice, vol. v. p. 68: “&lblank; That many may be meant “By the fool multitude.” The editor of the folio, not understanding this kind of phraseology, substituted the more common form—But goes thy heart with this? as in the next line he reads, Ay, my good lord, instead of—Ay, good my lord, the reading of the quartos, and the constant language of Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 43 1So young, and so untender?] So, in Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis: “Ah me, quoth Venus, young, and so unkind?” Malone.

Note return to page 44 2The mysteries of Hecate,] The quartos have mistress, the folio—miseries. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio, who likewise substituted operations in the next line for operation, the reading of the original copies. Malone.

Note return to page 45 3Hold thee, from this,] i. e. from this time. Steevens.

Note return to page 46 4&lblank; generation &lblank;] i. e. his children. Malone.

Note return to page 47 5I lov'd her most,] So, Holinshed: “&lblank; which daughters he greatly loved, but especially Cordeilla, the youngest, farre above the two elder.” Malone.

Note return to page 48 6[To Cordelia.] As Mr. Heath supposes, to Kent. For in the next words Lear sends for France and Burgundy to offer Cordelia without a dowry. Steevens. Mr. M. Mason observes, that Kent did not yet deserve such treatment from the King, as the only words he had uttered were “Good my liege.” Reed. Surely such quick transitions or inconsistencies, whichever they are called, are perfectly suited to Lear's character. I have no doubt that the direction now given is right. Kent has hitherto said nothing that could extort even from the cholerick king so harsh a sentence, having only interposed in the mildest manner. Afterwards indeed, when he remonstrates with more freedom, and calls Lear a madman, the King exclaims—“Out of my sight!” Malone.

Note return to page 49 7&lblank; only we still retain &lblank;] Thus the quarto. Folio: we shall retain. Malone.

Note return to page 50 8&lblank; all the additions to a king.] All the titles belonging to a king. See vol. viii. p. 313. Malone.

Note return to page 51 9&lblank; execution of the rest.] The execution of the rest is, I suppose, all the other business Johnson.

Note return to page 52 1As my great patron thought on in my prayers,] An allusion to the custom of clergymen praying for their patrons, in what is commonly called the bidding prayer. Henley. See also note to the epilogue to King Henry IV. Part II. Reed.

Note return to page 53 2Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, &c.] I have given this passage according to the old folio, from which the modern editions have silently departed, for the sake of better numbers, with a degree of insincerity, which, if not sometimes detected and censured, must impair the credit of ancient books. One of the editors, and perhaps only one, knew how much mischief may be done by such clandestine alterations. The quarto agrees with the folio, except that for reserve thy state, it gives, reverse thy doom, and has stoops, instead of falls to folly. The meaning of answer my life my judgment, is, Let my life be answerable for my judgment, or, I will stake my life on my opinion. The reading which, without any right, has possessed all the modern copies, is this: “&lblank; to plainness honour “Is bound, when majesty to folly falls. “Reserve thy state; with better judgment check “This hideous rashness; with my life I answer, “Thy youngest daughter,” &c. I am inclined to think that reverse thy doom was Shakspeare's first reading, as more apposite to the present occasion, and that he changed it afterwards to reserve thy state, which conduces more to the progress of the action, Johnson. Reserve was formerly used for preserve. So, in our poet's 52d Sonnet: “Reserve them for my love, not for their rhymes.” But I have followed the quartos. Malone.

Note return to page 54 3Reverbs &lblank;] This is, perhaps, a word of the poet's own making, meaning the same as reverberates. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 4&lblank; a pawn To wage against thine enemies;] i. e. I never regarded my life, as my own, but merely as a thing of which I had the possession, not the property; and which was entrusted to me as a pawn or pledge, to be employed in waging war against your enemies. To wage against is an expression used in a Letter from Guil. Webbe to Rob. Wilmot, prefixed to Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “&lblank; you shall not be able to wage against me in the charges growing upon this action.” Steevens. “My life, &c.” That is, I never considered my life as of more value than that of the commonest of your subjects. A pawn, in chess, is a common man, in contradistinction to the knight; and Shakspeare has several allusions to this game, particularly in King John: “Who painfully with much expedient march, “Have brought a counter-check before your gates.” Again, in King Henry V.: “Therefore take heed how you impawn our person.” Henley.

Note return to page 56 5The true blank of thine eye.] The blank is the white or exact mark at which the arrow is shot. ‘See better,’ says Kent, ‘and keep me always in your view.’ Johnson. See vol. v. p. 522, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 57 6&lblank; by Apollo, &lblank;] Bladud, Lear's father, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, attempting to fly, fell on the temple of Apollo, and was killed. This circumstance our author must have noticed, both in Holinshed's Chronicle and The Mirrour for Magistrates. Malone. Are we to understand, from this circumstance, that the son swears by Apollo, because the father broke his neck on the temple of that deity? Steevens. We are to understand that Shakspeare learnt from hence that Apollo was worshipped by our British ancestors, which will obviate Dr. Johnson's objection in a subsequent note to Shakspeare's making Lear too much a mythologist? Malone.

Note return to page 58 *Quartos, recreant.

Note return to page 59 7Dear sir, forbear.] This speech is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 60 8&lblank; thy gift;] The quartos read—thy doom. Steevens.

Note return to page 61 9&lblank; strain'd pride,] The oldest copy reads—strayed pride: that is, pride exorbitant; pride passing due bounds. Johnson.

Note return to page 62 1To come betwixt our sentence and our power;] Power, for execution of the sentence. Warburton. Rather, as Mr. Edwards observes, our power to execute that sentence. Steevens.

Note return to page 63 2(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,) Our potency made good,] “As thou hast come with unreasonable pride between the sentence which I had passed, and the power by which I shall execute it, take thy reward in another sentence which shall make good, shall establish, shall maintain, that power.” Mr. Davies thinks, that our potency made good, relates only to our place. Which our nature cannot bear, nor our place, without departure from the potency of that place. This is easy and clear. —Lear, who is characterized as hot, heady, and violent, is, with very just observation of life, made to entangle himself with vows, upon any sudden provocation to vow revenge, and then to plead the obligation of a vow in defence of implacability. Johnson. In my opinion, made, the reading of all the editions, but one of the quartos, [Quarto B.] (which reads make good,) is right. Lear had just delegated his power to Albany and Cornwall, contenting himself with only the name and all the additions of a king. He could therefore have no power to inflict on Kent the punishment which he thought he deserved. “Our potency made good” seems to me only this: ‘They to whom I have yielded my power and authority, yielding me the ability to dispense it in this instance, take thy reward.’ Steevens. The meaning, I think, is,—As a proof that I am not a mere threatner, that I have power as well as will to punish, take the due reward of thy demerits; hear thy sentence. The words our potency made good are in the absolute case. In Othello we have again nearly the same language: “My spirit and my place have in them power “To make this bitter to thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 64 *Quartos, four.

Note return to page 65 3To shield thee from diseases of the world:] Thus the quartos. The folio has disasters. The alteration, I believe, was made by the editor, in consequence of his not knowing the meaning of the original word. Diseases, in old language, meant the slighter inconveniencies, troubles, or distresses of the world. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act II. Sc. V.: “And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.” Again, in A Woman Kill'd With Kindness, by T. Heywood, 1617: “Fie, fie, that for my private businesse “I should disease a friend, and be a trouble “To the whole house.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book vi. c. ix.: “Leading a life so free and fortunate, “From all the tempests of these worldly seas, “Which toss the rest in dangerous disease!” The provision that Kent could make in five days, might in some measure guard him against the diseases of the world, but could not shield him from its disasters. Malone. Which word be retained is, in my opinion, quite immaterial. Such recollection as an interval of five days will afford to a considerate person, may surely enable him in some degree to provide against the disasters, (i. e. the calamities,) of the world. Steevens. This is a note written, like many others, merely for the sake of adding somewhat, without any meaning or pretence of meaning. The disasters or calamities of the world are, in the common acceptation, loss of health or substance, or children or friends.—No provision of five days could guard against these. But an enraged king banishing a subject knew, or Shakspeare acting for him, knew, that the person so banished, if ordered instantly to quit the kingdom, might be subject to great inconveniences, merely from want of time to settle his affairs, and to make provision for his exiled state, and therefore, however provoked, thinks himself bound to allow him five days to make such provision. This surely is perfectly natural: and many settlements might be made in that period, for the convenience both of the banished man and his family: to suppose that in five days, provision could be made against such calamities as I have mentioned, is so wild an hypothesis that to attempt to refute it would be an idle waste of time. Malone.

Note return to page 66 *Quartos, fifth.

Note return to page 67 4&lblank; By Jupiter,] Shakspeare makes his Lear too much a mythologist: he had Hecate and Apollo before. Johnson.

Note return to page 68 5Freedom lives hence,] So the folio: the quartos concur in reading—Friendship lives hence. Steevens.

Note return to page 69 6&lblank; dear shelter &lblank;] The quartos read—protection. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 7That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!] Thus the folio. The quartos read: “That rightly thinks, and hast most justly said. Malone.

Note return to page 71 8He'll shape his old course &lblank;] He will follow his old maxims; he will continue to act upon the same principles. Johnson. “&lblank; adieu; He'll shape his old course in a country new.” There is an odd coincidence between this passage, and another in The Battell of Alcazar, &c. 1594: “&lblank; adue; “For here Tom Stukley shapes his course anue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 72 9&lblank; noble lord.] Thus the quartos. The folios, as Mr. Jennens has observed, gave by mistake this speech to Cordelia, and were followed by Rowe and Pope. Theobald first discovered the error. Boswell.

Note return to page 73 1&lblank; quest of love?] Quest of love is amorous expedition. The term originated from Romance. A quest was the expedition in which a knight was engaged. This phrase is often to be met with in The Faëry Queen. Steevens.

Note return to page 74 2&lblank; we did hold her so;] We esteemed her worthy of that dowry, which, as you say, we promised to give her. Malone.

Note return to page 75 2&lblank; seeming &lblank;] Is beautiful. Johnson. Seeming rather means specious. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming mistress Page.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; hence shall we see, “If power change purpose, what our seemers be.” Steevens.

Note return to page 76 3&lblank; owes,] i. e. is possessed of. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “All the power this charm doth owe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 77 *Quartos, covered.

Note return to page 78 4Election makes not up on such conditions.] To make up signifies to complete, to conclude; as, they made up the bargain; but in this sense it has, I think, always the subject noun after it. To make up, in familiar language, is neutrally, to come forward, to make advances, which, I think, is meant here. Johnson. I should read the line thus:— “Election makes not, upon such conditions.” M. Mason. Election makes not up, I conceive, means, Election comes not to a decision; in the same sense as when we say, “I have made up my mind on that subject.” In Cymbeline this phrase is used, as here, for finished, completed: “&lblank; Being scarce made up, “I mean, to man,” &c. Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; remain assur'd, “That he's a made up villain.” The passages just cited show that the text is right, and that our poet did not write, as some have proposed to read: “Election makes not, upon such conditions.” Malone.

Note return to page 79 5Most best, most dearest;] Thus the quartos. The folios read— “The best, the dearest;” Steevens. We have just had more worthier, and in a preceding passage more richer. The same phraseology is found often in these plays and in the contemporary writings. Malone.

Note return to page 80 6&lblank; such unnatural degree, That monsters it,] This was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, in Coriolanus: “But with such words that are but rooted in “Your tongue.” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; No, not with such friends, “That thought them sure of you.” Three of the modern editors, however, in the passage before us, have substituted as for that. Malone. “That monsters it.” This uncommon verb occurs again in Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. II.: “To hear my nothings monster'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 81 7&lblank; or your fore-vouch'd affection Fall into taint:] The common books read: “&lblank; or your fore-vouch'd affection “Fall'n into taint:” This line has no clear or strong sense, nor is this reading authorized by any copy, though it has crept into all the late editions. The early quarto reads: “&lblank; or you, for vouch'd affections “Fall'n into taint.” The folio: “&lblank; or your fore-vouch'd affection “Fall into taint.” Taint is used for corruption and for disgrace. If therefore we take the oldest reading it may be reformed thus: “&lblank; sure her offence “Must be of such unnatural degree, “That monsters it, or you for vouch'd affection “Fall into taint.” Her offence must be prodigious, or you must fall into reproach for having vouched affection which you did not feel. If he reading of the folio be preferred, we may, with a very slight change, produce the same sense: “&lblank; sure her offence “Must be of such unnatural degree, “That monsters it, or you fore-vouch'd affection “Falls into taint.” That is, falls into reproach or censure. But there is another possible sense. Or signifies before, and or ever is before ever; the meaning in the folio may therefore be, ‘Sure her crime must be monstrous before your affection can be affected with hatred.’ Let the reader determine.—As I am not much a friend to conjectural emendation, I should prefer the latter sense, which requires no change of reading. Johnson. The meaning of the passage as I have printed it [fall'n into taint] is, I think, Either her offence must be monstrous, or, if she has not committed any such offence, the affection which you always professed to have for her must be tainted and decayed, and is now without reason alienated from her. I once thought the reading of the quartos right—or you, for vouch'd affections, &c. i. e. on account of the extravagant professions made by her sisters: but I did not recollect that France had not heard these. However, Shakspeare might himself have forgot this circumstance. The plural affections favours this interpretation. The interpretation already given, appears to me to be supported by our author's words in another place: “When love begins to sicken and decay,” &c. Malone. The present reading, which is that of the folio, is right; and the sense will be clear, without even the slight amendment proposed by Johnson, to every reader who shall consider the word must, as referring to fall as well as to be. Her offence must be monstrous, or the former affection which you professed for her, must fall into taint; that is, become the subject of reproach. M. Mason. Taint is a term belonging to falconry. So, in The Booke of Haukyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “A taint is a thing that goeth overthwart the fethers, &c. like as it were eaten with wormes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 82 8If for I want, &c.] If this be my offence, that I want the glib and oily art, &c. Malone. For has the power of—because. Thus, in p. 32: “For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines “Lag of a brother.” Steevens.

Note return to page 83 *First folio, will.

Note return to page 84 †Quartos, that you may know.

Note return to page 85 9No unchaste action,] The quartos read—no unclean action. Unclean, in the sense of unchaste, is the constant language of Scripture. Boswell.

Note return to page 86 1Is it but this? &c.] Thus the folio. The quartos, disregarding metre— “Is it no more but this?” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 87 1&lblank; with respects,] i. e. with cautious and prudential considerations. See vol. viii. p. 291, n. 4. Thus the quartos. The folio has—regards. Malone.

Note return to page 88 2&lblank; from the entire point.] Single, unmixed with other considerations. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is right. The meaning of the passage is, that his love wants something to mark its sincerity: “Who seeks for aught in love but love alone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 89 3She is herself a dowry.] The quartos read: “She is herself and dower.” Steevens.

Note return to page 90 4Royal Lear,] So the quarto; the folio has—Royal king. Steevens.

Note return to page 91 *Quartos, in.

Note return to page 92 5Thou losest here,] Here and where have the power of nouns. Thou losest this residence to find a better residence in another place. Johnson. So, in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 1592: “That growes not here, takes roote in other where.” See note on The Comedy of Errors, Act II. Sc. I. vol. iv. p. 169. Steevens.

Note return to page 93 6The jewels &lblank;] As this reading affords sense, though an aukward one, it may stand: and yet Ye instead of The, a change adopted by former editors, may be justified; it being frequently impossible, in ancient MSS. to distinguish the one word from the customary abbreviation of the other. Steevens.

Note return to page 94 7&lblank; Use well our father:] So the quartos. The folio reads —Love well. Malone.

Note return to page 95 8&lblank; professed bosoms &lblank;] All the ancient editions read— professed. Mr. Pope—professing; but, perhaps, unnecessarily, as Shakspeare often uses one participle for the other;—longing for longed in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and all-obeying for all-obeyed in Antony and Cleopatra. Steevens.

Note return to page 96 9Prescribe not us our duties.] Prescribe was used formerly without to subjoined. So, in Massinger's Picture: “&lblank; Shall I prescribe you, “Or blame your fondness.” Malone.

Note return to page 97 1At fortune's alms.] The same expression occurs again in Othello: “And shoot myself up in some other course, “To fortune's alms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 98 2And well are worth the want that you have wanted.] You are well deserving of the want of dower that you are without. So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI. Act IV. Sc. I.: “Though I want a kingdom,” i. e. though I am without a kingdom. Again, in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 137: “Anselm was expelled the realm, and wanted the whole profits of his bishoprick,” i. e. he did not receive the profits, &c. Tollet. Thus the folio. In the quartos the transcriber or compositor inadvertently repeated the word worth. They read: “And well are worth the worth that you have wanted.” This, however, may be explained by understanding the second worth in the sense of wealth. Malone. A clash of words similar to that in the text, occurs in Chapman's version of the twentieth Iliad: “&lblank; the gods' firme gifts want want to yeeld so soone, “To men's poore powres &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 99 3&lblank; plaited cunning &lblank;] i. e. complicated, involved cunning. Johnson. I once thought that the author wrote plated:—cunning spuer-induced, thinly spread over. So, in this play: “&lblank; Plate sin with gold, “And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.” But the word unfold, and the following lines in our author's Rape of Lucrece, show, that plaited, or (as the quartos have it) pleated, is the true reading: “For that he colour'd with his high estate, “Hiding base sin in pleats of majesty.” Malone.

Note return to page 100 4Who cover faults, &c.] The quartos read: “Who covers faults, at last shame them derides.” The former editors read with the folio: “Who covers faults at last with shame derides.” Steevens. Mr. M. Mason believes the folio, with the alteration of a letter, to be the right reading: “Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides, “Who covert faults at last with shame derides.” The word who referring to time. In the third Act, Lear says: “&lblank; Caitiff, shake to pieces, “That under covert, and convenient seeming, “Hast practis'd on man's life.” Reed. In this passage Cordelia is made to allude to a passage in Scripture—Prov. xxviii. 13: “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them, shall have mercy.” Henley.

Note return to page 101 5&lblank; of long-engrafted condition,] i. e. of qualities of mind, confirmed by long habit. So, in Othello, vol. ix. p. 424: —a woman of so gentle a condition!” Malone.

Note return to page 102 6&lblank; let us hit &lblank;] So the old quarto. The folio, let us sit. Johnson. “&lblank; let us hit.” i. e. let us agree. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 7&lblank; i' the heat.] i. e. We must strike while the iron's hot. So in Chapman's version of the twelfth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; and their iron strook “At highest heat.” Steevens.

Note return to page 104 8Thou, nature, art my goddess;] Edmund speaks of nature in opposition to custom, and not (as Dr. Warburton supposes) to the existence of a God. Edmund means only, as he came not into the world as custom or law had prescribed, so he had nothing to do but to follow nature and her laws, which make no difference between legitimacy and illegitimacy, between the eldest and the youngest. To contradict Dr. Warburton's assertion yet more strongly, Edmund concludes this very speech by an invocation to heaven: “Now gods stand up for bastards!” Steevens. Edmund calls nature his goddess, for the same reason that we call a bastard a natural son: one who, according to the law of nature, is the child of his father, but according to those of civil society is nullius filius. M. Mason.

Note return to page 105 9Stand in the plague of custom;] The word plague is in all the old copies: I can scarcely think it right, nor can I reconcile myself to plage, the emendation proposed by Dr. Warburton, though I have nothing better to offer. Johnson. The meaning is plain, though oddly expressed. Wherefore should I acquiesce, submit tamely to the plagues and injustice of custom? Shakspeare seems to mean by the plague of custom, ‘Wherefore should I remain in a situation where I shall be plagued and tormented only in consequence of the contempt with which custom regards those who are not the issue of a lawful bed?’ Dr. Warburton defines plage to be the place, the country, the boundary of custom; a word, I believe, to be found only in Chaucer. Steevens.

Note return to page 106 1The curiosity of nations &lblank;] Curiosity, in the time of Shakspeare, was a word that signified an over-nice scrupulousness in manners, dress, &c. In this sense it is used in Timon: “When thou wast (says Apemantus) in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity.” Barrett, in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, interprets it, piked diligence: something too curious, or too much affected: and again in this play of King Lear, Shakspeare seems to use it in the same sense, “which I have rather blamed as my own jealous curiosity.” Curiosity is the old reading, which Mr. Theobald changed into courtesy, though the former is used by Beaumont and Fletcher, with the meaning for which I contend. It is true, that Orlando, in As You Like It, says: “The courtesy of nations allows you my better;” but Orlando is not there inveighing against the law of primogeniture, but only against the unkind advantage his brother takes of it, and courtesy is a word that fully suits the occasion. Edmund, on the contrary, is turning this law into ridicule; and for such a purpose, the curiosity of nations, (i. e. the idle, nice distinctions of the world,) is a phrase of contempt much more natural in his mouth, than the softer expression of—courtesy of nations. Steevens. Curiosity is used before in the present play, in this sense:— “For equalities are so weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, “Hath well compos'd thee.” In The English Dictionary, or Interpreter of Hard Words, by H. Cockeram, 8vo. 1655, curiosity is defined—“More diligence than needs.” Malone. By “the curiosity of nations” Edmund means the nicety, the strictness of civil institution. So, when Hamlet is about to prove that the dust of Alexander might be employed to stop a bung-hole, Horatio says, “that were to consider the matter too curiously.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 107 2&lblank; to deprive me,] To deprive was, in our author's time, synonymous to disinherit. The old dictionary renders exhæredo by this word: and Holinshed speaks of the line of Henry before deprived. Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. iii. ch. xvi.: “To you, if whom ye have depriv'd ye shall restore again.” Again, ibid.: “The one restored, for his late depriving nothing mov'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 108 3Lag of a brother?] Edmund inveighs against the tyranny of custom, in two instances, with respect to younger brothers, and to bastards. In the former he must not be understood to mean himself, but the argument becomes general by implying more than is said, Wherefore should I or any man. Hanmer. Why should he not mean himself in both instances? He was a younger brother. Boswell.

Note return to page 109 4Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, &c.] How much the following lines are in character, may be seen by that monstrous wish of Vanini, the Italian atheist, in his tract De admirandis Naturæ, &c. printed at Paris, 1616, the very year our poet died. “O utinam extra legitimum et connubialem thorum essem procreatus! Ita enim progenitores mei in venerem incaluissent ardentius, ac cumulalim affatimque generosa semina contulissent, è quibus ego formæ blanditiam et elegantiam, robustas corporis vires, mentemque innubilem, consequutus fuissem. At quia conjugatorum sum soboles, his orbatus sum bonis.” Had the book been published but ten or twenty years sooner, who would not have believed that Shakspeare alluded to this passage? But the divinity of his genius foretold, as it were, what such an atheist as Vanini would say, when he wrote upon such a subject. Warburton.

Note return to page 110 *Quartos omit these three words.

Note return to page 111 5Shall top the legitimate.] Here the Oxford editor would show us that he is as good at coining phrases as his author, and so alters the text thus: “Shall toe th' legitimate. &lblank;” i. e. says he, stand on even ground with him, as he would do with his author. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer's emendation will appear very plausible to him that shall consult the original reading. The quartos read: “&lblank; Edmund the base “Shall tooth' legitimate &lblank;.” The folio: “&lblank; Edmund the base “Shall to th' legitimate &lblank;.” Hanmer, therefore, could hardly be charged with coining a word, though his explanation may be doubted. To toe him, is perhaps to kick him out, a phrase yet in vulgar use; or, to toe, may be literally to supplant. The word be [which stands in some editions] has no authority. Johnson. Mr. Edwards would read—Shall top the legitimate. I have received this emendation, because the succeeding expression, I grow, seems to favour it, and because our poet uses the same expression in Hamlet: “&lblank; so far he topp'd my thought,” &c. Steevens. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Not in the legions “Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd, “In evils to top Macbeth.” A passage in Hamlet adds some support to toe, Sir Thomas Hanmer's reading: “&lblank; for the toe of the peasant comes so near to the heel of the courtier, that he galls his kybe.” In Devonshire, as Sir Joshua Reynolds observes to me, “to toe a thing up, is, to tear it up by the roots: in which sense the word is perhaps used here; for Edmund immediately adds—I grow, I prosper.” Malone.

Note return to page 112 6&lblank; subscrib'd his power!] To subscribe, is, to transfer by signing or subscribing a writing of testimony. We now use the term, He subscribed forty pounds to the new building. Johnson. To subscribe in Shakspeare is to yield, or surrender. So, afterwards: “You owe me no subscription.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes “To tender objects.” Malone. The folio reads—prescribed.

Note return to page 113 7&lblank; exhibition!] Is allowance. The term is yet used in the universities. Johnson. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “What maintenance he from his friends receives, “Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 114 8All this done Upon the gad!] To do upon the gad, is, to act by the sudden stimulation of caprice, as cattle run madding when they are stung by the gad fly. Johnson. Done upon the gad is done suddenly, or, as before, while the iron is hot. A gad is an iron bar. So, in I'll never Leave Thee, a Scottish song, by Allan Ramsay: “Bid iceshogles hammer red gads on the studdy.” The statute of 2 and 3 Eliz. 6, c. 27, is a “Bill against false forging of iron gadds, instead of gadds of steel.” Ritson.

Note return to page 115 9&lblank; taste of my virtue.] Though taste may stand in this place, yet I believe we should read—assay or test of my virtue: they are both metallurgical terms, and properly joined. So, in Hamlet: “Bring me to the test.” Johnson. Both the quartos and folio have essay, which may have been merely a mis-spelling of the word assay, which in Cawdrey's Alphabetical Table, 1604, is defined—“a proof or trial.” But as essay is likewise defined by Bullokar in his English Expositor, 1616, “a trial,” I have made no change. To assay not only signified to make trial of coin, but to taste before another; prælibo. In either sense the word might be used here. Malone. Essay and Taste, are both terms from royal tables. See note on Act V. Sc. III. Mr. Henley observes, that in the eastern parts of this kingdom the word say is still retained in the same sense. So, in Chapman's version of the nineteenth Iliad: “Atrides with his knife took say, upon the part before &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 116 1This policy, and reverence of age,] Butter's quarto has, this policy of age; the folio, this policy and reverence of age. Johnson. The two [three] quartos published by Butter, concur with the folio in reading age. Mr. Pope's duodecimo is the only copy that has ages. Steevens.

Note return to page 117 2&lblank; idle and fond &lblank;] Weak and foolish. Johnson.

Note return to page 118 3&lblank; where, if you &lblank;] Where was formerly often used in the sense of whereas. Malone. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Act I. Sc. I.: “Where now you're both a father and a son.” See also Act II. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 119 4&lblank; to your honour,] It has been already observed that this was the usual mode of address to a Lord in Shakspeare's time. Malone. See Richard III. Act III. Sc. II. where the Pursuivant uses this address to Lord Hastings. Steevens.

Note return to page 120 5&lblank; pretence &lblank;] Pretence is design, purpose. So, afterwards in this play: “Pretence and purpose of unkindness.” Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight “Of treasonous malice.” But of this, numberless examples can be shown; and I can venture to assert, with some degree of confidence, that Shakspeare never uses the word pretence, or pretend, in any other sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 121 6Edm.] The words between brackets are omitted in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 122 7&lblank; wind me into him,] I once thought it should be read, you into him; but, perhaps, it is a familiar phrase, like “do me this.” Johnson. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; challenge me the duke's youth to fight with him.” Instances of this phraseology occur in The Merchant of Venice, King Henry IV. Part I. and in Othello. Steevens.

Note return to page 123 8&lblank; I would unstate myself, to be in a due resolution.] i. e. I will throw aside all consideration of my relation to him, that I may act as justice requires. Warburton. Such is this learned man's explanation. I take the meaning to be rather this, Do you frame the business, who can act with less emotion; I would unstate myself; it would in me be a departure from the paternal character, to be in a due resolution, to be settled and composed on such an occasion. The words would and should are in old language often confounded. Johnson. The same word occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “Yes, like enough, high-battled Cæsar will “Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to show “Against a sworder &lblank;.” To unstate, in both these instances, seems to have the same meaning. Edgar has been represented as wishing to possess his father's fortune, i. e. to unstate him; and therefore his father says he would unstate himself to be sufficiently resolved to punish him. To enstate is to confer a fortune. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; his possessions “We do enstate and widow you withal.” Steevens. It seems to me, that I would unstate myself, in this passage, means simply I would give my estate (including rank as well as fortune). Tyrwhitt. Both Warburton and Johnson have mistaken the sense of this passage, and their explanations are such as the words cannot possibly imply. Gloster cannot bring himself thoroughly to believe what Edmund told him of Edgar. He says, “Can he be such a monster?” He afterwards desires Edmund to sound his intentions, and then says, he would give all he possessed to be certain of the truth; for that is the meaning of the words to be in a due resolution. Othello uses the word resolved in the same sense more than once: “&lblank; to be once in doubt, “Is—once to be resolved &lblank;.” In both which places, to be resolved means, to be certain of the fact. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy, Amintor says to Evadne: “'Tis not his crown “Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve “He hath dishonour'd thee.” And afterwards, in the same play, the King says: “Well I am resolv'd “You lay not with her.” But in the fifth scene of the third Act of Massinger's Picture, Sophia says— “&lblank; I have practis'd “For my certain resolution, with these courtiers.” And, in the last Act, she says to Baptista— “&lblank; what should work on my lord “To doubt my loyalty? Nay, more, to take “For the resolution of his fears, a course “That is, by holy writ, denied a Christian.” M. Mason. Mr. Ritson's explanation of the word—resolution, concurs with that of Mr. M. Mason. Steevens.

Note return to page 124 9&lblank; convey the business &lblank;] To convey is to carry through; in this place it is to manage artfully: we say of a juggler, that he has a clean conveyance. Johnson. So, in Mother Bombie, by Lyly, 1599: “Two, they say, may keep counsel if one be away; but to convey knavery two are too few, and four are too many.” Again, in A Mad World, My Masters, by Middleton, 1608: “&lblank; thus I've convey'd it; &lblank; “I'll counterfeit a fit of violent sickness.” Steevens. So, in Lord Sterline's Julius Cæsar, 1607: “A circumstance, or an indifferent thing, “Doth oft mar all, when not with care convey'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 125 1&lblank; the wisdom of nature &lblank;] That is, though natural philosophy can give account of eclipses, yet we feel their consequences. Johnson.

Note return to page 126 2This villain &lblank;] All between brackets is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 127 3This is the excellent foppery of the world! &c.] In Shakspeare's best plays, besides the vices that arise from the subject, there is generally some peculiar prevailing folly, principally ridiculed, that runs through the whole piece. Thus, in The Tempest, the lying disposition of travellers, and, in As You Like It, the fantastick humour of courtiers, is exposed and satirized with infinite pleasantry. In like manner, in this play of Lear, the dotages of judicial astrology are severely ridiculed. I fancy, was the date of its first performance well considered, it would be found that something or other happened at that time which gave a more than ordinary run to this deceit, as these words seem to intimate: “I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.” However this be, an impious cheat, which had so little foundation in nature or reason, so detestable an original, and such fatal consequences on the manners of the people, who were at that time strangely besotted with it, certainly deserved the severest lash of satire. It was a fundamental in this noble science, that whatever seeds of good dispositions the infant unborn might be endowed with either from nature, or traductively from its parents, yet if, at the time of its birth, the delivery was by any casualty so accelerated or retarded, as to fall in with the predominancy of a malignant constellation, that momentary influence would entirely change its nature, and bias it to all the contrary ill qualities: so wretched and monstrous an opinion did it set out with. But the Italians, to whom we owe this, as well as most other unnatural crimes and follies of these latter ages, fomented its original impiety to the most detestable height of extravagance. Petrus Aponensis, an Italian physician of the 13th century, assures us that those prayers which are made to God when the moon is in conjunction with Jupiter in the Dragon's tail, are infallibly heard. The great Milton, with a just indignation of this impiety, hath, in his Paradise Regained, satirized it in a very beautiful manner, by putting these reveries into the mouth of the devil.* [Subnote: *Book IV. v. 383.] Nor could the licentious Rabelais himself forbear to ridicule this impious dotage, which he does with exquisite address and humour, where, in the fable which he so agreeably tells from Æsop, of the man who applied to Jupiter for the loss of his hatchet, he makes those who, on the poor man's good success, had projected to trick Jupiter by the same petition, a kind of astrologick atheists, who ascribed this good fortune, that they imagined they were now all going to partake of, to the influence of some rare conjunction and configuration of the stars. “Hen, hen, disent ils—Et doncques, telle est au temps present la revolution des Cieulx, la constellation des Astres, et aspect des Planetes, que quiconque coignée perdra, soubdain deviendra ainsi riche?”—Nou. Prol. du IV. Livre.— But to return to Shakspeare. So blasphemous a delusion, therefore, it became the honesty of our poet to expose. But it was a tender point, and required managing. For this impious juggle had in his time a kind of religious reverence paid to it. It was therefore to be done obliquely; and the circumstances of the scene furnished him with as good an opportunity as he could wish. The persons in the drama are all Pagans, so that as, in compliance to custom, his good characters were not to speak ill of judicial astrology, they could on account of their religion give no reputation to it. But in order to expose it the more, he with great judgment, makes these Pagans fatalists; as appears by these words of Lear: “By all the operations of the orbs, “From whom we do exist and cease to be.” For the doctrine of fate is the true foundation of judicial astrology. Having thus discredited it by the very commendations given to it, he was in no danger of having his direct satire against it mistaken, by its being put (as he was obliged, both in paying regard to custom, and in following nature) into the mouth of the villain and atheist, especially when he has added such force of reason to his ridicule, in the words referred to in the beginning of the note. Warburton.

Note return to page 128 4&lblank; and treachers,] The modern editors read—treacherous; but the reading of the first copies, which I have restored to the text, may be supported from most of the old contemporary writers. So, in Doctor Dodypoll, a comedy, 1600: “How smooth the cunning treacher look'd upon it!” Again, in Every Man in his Humour: “&lblank; Oh, you treachour!” Again, in Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “&lblank; Hence, trecher as thou art.” Again, in The Bloody Banquet, 1639: “To poison the right use of service—a trecher.” Chaucer, in his Romaunt of the Rose, mentions “the false treacher,” and Spenser often uses the same word. Steevens. Treacher, the reading of the first folio, I believe to be right; but Mr. Steevens ought to have mentioned that all the quartos read treacherers. Boswell.

Note return to page 129 5&lblank; of a star!] Both the quartos read—to the charge of stars. So Chaucer's Wif of Bathe, 6196: “I folwed ay min inclination “By vertue of my constellation.” Bernardus Sylvestris, an eminent philosopher and poet of the twelfth century, very gravely tells us in his Megacosmus, that— “In stellis Codri paupertas, copia Croesi,   “Incestus Paridis, Hippolytique pudor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 130 6&lblank; pat he comes,] The quartos read— “&lblank; and out he comes &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 131 7&lblank; he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy:] I think this passage was intended to ridicule the very aukward conclusions of our old comedies, where the persons of the scene make their entry inartificially, and just when the poet wants them on the stage. Warner.

Note return to page 132 8&lblank; O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.] The commentators, not being musicians, have regarded this passage perhaps as unintelligible nonsense, and therefore left it as they found it, without bestowing a single conjecture on its meaning and import. Shakspeare however shows by the context that he was well acquainted with the property of these syllables in solmisation, which imply a series of sounds so unnatural, that ancient musicians prohibited their use. The monkish writers on musick say, mi contra fa est diabolus: the interval fa mi, including a tritonus, or sharp 4th, consisting of three tones without the intervention of a semi-tone, expressed in the modern scale by the letters F G A B, would form a musical phrase extremely disagreeable to the ear. Edmund, speaking of eclipses as portents and progedies, compares the dislocation of events, the times being out of joint, to the unnatural and offensive sounds, fa, sol, la, mi. Dr. Burney. The words fa, sol, &c. are not in the quarto. The folio, and all the modern editions, read corruptly me instead of mi. Shakspeare has again introduced the gamut in The Taming of The Shrew, vol. v. p. 438. Malone.

Note return to page 133 9I promise you,] The folio edition commonly differs from the first quarto, by augmentations, or insertions, but in this place it varies by omission, and by the omission of something which naturally introduces the following dialogue. It is easy to remark, that in this speech, which ought, I think, to be inserted as it now is in the text, Edmund, with the common craft of fortune-tellers, mingles the past and future, and tells of the future only what he already foreknows by confederacy, or can attain by probable conjecture. Johnson.

Note return to page 134 1&lblank; as of &lblank;] All between brackets is omitted in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 135 2&lblank; dissipation of cohorts,] Thus the old copy. Dr. Johnson reads—of courts. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 3How long have you &lblank;] This line I have restored from the two eldest quartos, and have regulated the following speech according to the same copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 137 4&lblank; that with the mischief of your person &lblank;] This reading is in both copies; yet I believe the author gave it, that but with the mischief of your person it would scarce allay. Johnson. I do not see any need of alteration. He could not express the violence of his father's displeasure in stronger terms than by saying it was so great that it would scarcely be appeased by the destruction of his son. Malone.

Note return to page 138 5&lblank; That's my fear.] All between brackets is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 139 *First folio omits go armed.

Note return to page 140 6By day and night! he wrongs me;] It has been suggested by Mr. Whalley that we ought to point differently: “By day and night he wrongs me;” not considering these words as an adjuration. But that an adjuration was intended, appears, I think, from a passage in King Henry VIII. The king, speaking of Buckingham, (Act I. Sc. II.) “&lblank; By day and night “He's traitor to the height.” It cannot be supposed that Henry means to say that Buckingham is a traitor in the night as well as by day. The regulation which has been followed in the text, is likewise supported by Hamlet, where we have again the same adjuration: “O day and night! but this is wondrous strange.” Malone. By night and day, is, perhaps, only a phrase signifying— always, every way. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day “For many weary months.” See vol. viii. p. 330, n. 8. I have not, however, displaced Mr. Malone's punctuation. Steevens.

Note return to page 141 *Quarto, fellow servants.

Note return to page 142 †First folio, distaste it.

Note return to page 143 7Not to be over-rul'd, &c.] This line and the four following lines, are omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 144 8&lblank; Idle old man, &c.] The lines between brackets, as they are fine in themselves, and very much in character for Goneril, I have restored from the old quarto. The last verse, which I have ventured to amend, is there printed thus: “With checks, like flatt'ries when they are seen abus'd.” Theobald.

Note return to page 145 9Old fools are babes again; and must be us'd With checks, as flatteries,—when they are seen abus'd.] The sense seems to be this: ‘Old men must be treated with checks, when as they are seen to be deceived with flatteries: or, when they are weak enough to be seen abused by flatteries, they are then weak enough to be used with checks.’ There is a play of the words used and abused. To abuse is, in our author, very frequently the same as to deceive. This construction is harsh and ungrammatical; Shakspeare perhaps thought it vicious, and chose to throw away the lines rather than correct them, nor would now thank the officiousness of his editors, who restore what they do not understand. Johnson. The plain meaning, I believe, is—old fools must be used with checks, as flatteries must be check'd when they are made a bad use of. Tollet. I understand this passage thus. ‘Old fools—must be used with checks, as well as flatteries, when they [i. e. flatteries] are seen to be abused.’ Tyrwhitt. The objection to Dr. Johnson's interpretation is, that he supplies the word with or by, which are not found in the text: “&lblank; when as they are seen to be deceived with flatteries,” or “when they are weak enough to be seen abused by flatteries,” &c.; and in his mode of construction the word with preceding checks, cannot be understood before flatteries. I think Mr. Tyrwhitt's interpretation the true one. Malone. The sentiment of Goneril is obviously this: “When old fools will not yield to the appliances of persuasion, harsh treatment must be employed to compel their submission.” When flatteries are seen to be abused by them, checks must be used, as the only means left to subdue them. Henley.

Note return to page 146 1I would breed, &c.] The words between brackets are found in the quartos, but omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 147 2If but as well I other accents borrow, That can my speech diffuse,] We must suppose that Kent advances looking on his disguise. This circumstance very naturally leads to his speech, which otherwise would have no very apparent introduction. “If I can change my speech as well as I have changed my dress.” To diffuse speech, signifies to disorder it, and so to disguise it; as in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act IV. Sc. VII. [quoted by Mr. Jennens]: “&lblank; rush at once “With some diffused song &lblank;.” Again, in The Nice Valour, &c. by Beaumont and Fletcher, Cupid says to the Passionate Man, who appears disordered in his dress: “&lblank; Go not so diffusedly.” Again, in our author's King Henry V. [as Mr. Heath remarks]: “&lblank; swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire.” Again, in a book entitled, A Green Forest, or A Natural History, &c. by John Maplet, 1567:—“In this stone is apparently seene verie often the verie forme of a tode, with bespotted and coloured feete, but those uglye and defusedly.”—To diffuse speech may, however, mean to speak broad with a clownish accent. Steevens. Diffused certainly meant, in our author's time, wild, irregular, heterogeneous. So, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “I have seen an English gentleman so defused in his suits, his doublet being for the weare of Castile, his hose for Venice, his hat for France, his cloak for Germany, that he seemed no way to be an Englishman but by the face.” Malone.

Note return to page 148 *The quartos omit these words.

Note return to page 149 3&lblank; to converse with him that is wise, and says little;] To converse signifies immediately and properly to keep company, not to discourse or talk. His meaning is, that he chooses for his companions men of reserve aud caution; men who are not tatlers nor tale-bearers. Johnson. We still say in the same sense—he had criminal conversation with her—meaning commerce. So, in King Richard III.: “His apparent open guilt omitted, “I mean his conversation with Shore's wife.” Malone.

Note return to page 150 4&lblank; and to eat no fish.] In Queen Elizabeth's time the Papists were esteemed, and with good reason, enemies to the government. Hence the proverbial phrase of, He's an honest man, and eats no fish; to signify he's a friend to the government and a Protestant. The eating fish, on a religious account, being then esteemed such a badge of popery, that when it was enjoined for a season by act of parliament, for the encouragement of the fish-towns, it was thought necessary to declare the reason; hence it was called Cecil's fast. To this disgraceful badge of popery Fletcher alludes in his Woman-hater, who makes the courtezan say, when Lazarillo, in search of the umbrano's head, was seized at her house by the intelligencers for a traytor: Gentlemen, I am glad you have discovered him. He should not have eaten under my roof for twenty pounds. And sure I did not like him, when he called for fish.” And Marston's Dutch Courtezan: “I trust I am none of the wicked that eat fish a Fridays.” Warburton. Fish was probably then, as now, esteemed the most delicate and costly part of an entertainment, and therefore Kent, in the character of an humble and discreet dependant, may intend to insinuate that he never desires to partake of such luxuries. That eating fish on a religious account was not a badge of popery, may be shewn by what is related of Queen Elizabeth in Walton's Life of Hooker; that she would never eat flesh in Lent without obtaining a licence from her little black husband [Archbishop Whitgift]. Blakeway.

Note return to page 151 *Quartos, Kent.

Note return to page 152 5&lblank; of kindness &lblank;] These words are not in the quartos. Malone.

Note return to page 153 6&lblank; jealous curiosity,] By this phrase King Lear means, I believe, a punctilious jealousy, resulting from a scrupulous watchfulness of his own dignity. Steevens. See before p. 5, and p. 31. Boswell.

Note return to page 154 7&lblank; a very pretence &lblank;] Pretence in Shakspeare generally signifies design. So, in a foregoing scene in this play: “&lblank;to no other pretence of danger.” Again, in Holinshed, p. 648: “&lblank;the pretensed evill purpose of the queene.” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 8Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away.] This is an endearing circumstance in the Fool's character, and creates such an interest in his favour, as his wit alone might have failed to procure for him. Steevens.

Note return to page 156 9I am none of this, my lord; &c.] Thus the quartos. The folio reads—I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. Malone.

Note return to page 157 1&lblank; bandy looks &lblank;] A metaphor from Tennis: “Come in, take this bandy with the racket of patience.” Decker's Satiromastix, 1602. Again: “&lblank; buckle with them hand to hand, “And bandy blows as thick as hailstones fall.” Wily Beguiled, 1606. Steevens. “To bandy a ball,” Cole defines, clava pilam torquere; “to bandy at tennis,” reticulo pellere. Dict. 1679. Malone.

Note return to page 158 2Have you wisdom?] Thus the folio. The quarto reads— you have wisdom. Malone.

Note return to page 159 3Why, fool?] The folio reads—why, my boy? and gives this question to Lear. Steevens.

Note return to page 160 4&lblank; thou'lt catch cold shortly:] i. e. be turned out of doors, and exposed to the inclemency of the weather. Farmer.

Note return to page 161 5&lblank; take my coxcomb:] Meaning his cap, called so, because on the top of the fool or jester's cap was sewed a piece of red cloth, resembling the comb of a cock. The word, afterwards, was used to denote a vain, conceited, meddling fellow. Warburton. See fig. xii. in the plate at the end of the first part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's explanation, who has since added, that Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1627, says, “Natural ideots and fools, have, and still do accustome themselves to weare in their cappes cockes feathers, or a hat with a neck and heade of a cocke on the top, and a bell thereon,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 162 6&lblank; How now, nuncle?] Aunt is a term of respect in France. So, in Lettres D'Eliz. de Baviere Duchesse D'Orleans, tom. ii. p. 65, 66: “C'etoit par un espece de plaisanterie de badinage sans consequence, que la Dauphine appelloit Madame de Maintenon ma tante. Les filles d'honneur appelloient toujours leur gouvernante ma tante.” And it is remarkable at this day that the lower people in Shropshire call the judge of assize—“my nuncle the Judge.” Vaillant.

Note return to page 163 7&lblank; two coxcombs.] Two fools caps, intended, as it seems, to mark double folly in the man that gives all to his daughters. Johnson.

Note return to page 164 8&lblank; and two daughters.] Perhaps we should read—an' two daughters; i. e. if. Farmer.

Note return to page 165 9&lblank; all my living,] Living in Shakspeare's time signified estate, or property. So, in Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, by R. Greene, 1594: “In Laxfield here my land and living lies.” Malone.

Note return to page 166 1&lblank; beg another of thy daughters.] The Fool means to say, that it is by begging only that the old king can obtain any thing from his daughters: even a badge of folly in having reduced himself to such a situation. Malone.

Note return to page 167 2&lblank; Lady, the brach,] “Nos quidem hodie brach dicimus de cane fœmineâ, quæ leporem ex odore persequitur. Spelm. Gloss. in voce Bracco.” Jennens. Brach is a bitch of the hunting kind. Dr. Letherland, on the margin of Dr. Warburton's edition, proposed lady's brach, i. e. favour'd animal. The third quarto has a much more unmannerly reading, which I would not wish to establish: but the other quarto editions concur in reading lady o' the brach. Lady is still a common name for a hound. So Hotspur: “I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Poem to A Friend, &c.: “Do all the tricks of a salt lady bitch.” In the old black letter Booke of Huntyng, &c. no date, the list of dogs concludes thus: “&lblank; and small ladi popies that bere awai the fleas and divers small fautes.” We might read—“when lady, the brach,” &c. Steevens. Both the quartos of 1608 read—when Lady oth'e brach. I have therefore printed—lady, the brach, grounding myself on the reading of those copies, and on the passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from King Henry IV. Part I. The folio, and the late editions, read —when the lady brach, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 168 3Lend less than thou owest.] That is, do not lend all that thou hast. To owe, in old English, is to possess. If owe be taken for to be in debt, the more prudent precept would be: “Lend more than thou owest.” Johnson.

Note return to page 169 4Learn more than thou trowest,] To trow, is an old word which signifies to believe. The precept is admirable. Warburton.

Note return to page 170 *First folio, Kent.

Note return to page 171 5This is nothing, fool.] The quartos give this speech to Lear. Steevens. In the folio these words are given to Kent. Malone.

Note return to page 172 6No, lad;] This dialogue, from No, lad, teach me, down to Give me an egg, was restored from the first edition by Mr. Theobald. It is omitted in the folio, perhaps for political reasons, as it seemed to censure the monopolies, Johnson.

Note return to page 173 7Or do thou &lblank;] The word or, which is not in the quartos, was supplied by Mr. Steevens [Mr. Jennens]. Malone.

Note return to page 174 8&lblank; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't:] A satire on the gross abuses of monopolies at that time; and the corruption and avarice of the courtiers, who commonly went shares with the patentee. Warburton. The modern editors, without authority, read— “&lblank; a monopoly on't &lblank;,” Monopolies were in Shakspeare's time the common objects of satire. So, in Decker's Match Me in London, 1631: “&lblank; Give him a court loaf, stop his mouth with a monopoly.” Again, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “A knight that never heard of smock fees! I would I had a monopoly of them, so there was no impost set on them.” Again, in The Birth of Merlin, 1662: “&lblank; So foul a monster would be a fair monopoly worth the begging.” In the books of the Stationers' Company, I meet with the following entry. “John Charlewoode, Oct. 1587: lycensed unto him by the whole consent of the assistants, the onlye ymprynting of all manner of billes for plaiers.” Again, Nov. 6, 1615, The liberty of printing all billes for fencing was granted to Mr. Purfoot. Steevens.

Note return to page 175 9Fools had ne'er less grace in a year;] There never was a time when fools were less in favour; and the reason is, that they were never so little wanted, for wise men now supply their place. Such I think is the meaning. Johnson. “&lblank; less grace.” So the folio. Both the quartos read—less wit. Steevens. In Mother Bombie, a comedy by Lyly, 1594, we find, [as Mr. Capell has remarked,] “I think gentlemen had never less wit in a year.” I suspect therefore the original to be the true reading. Malone.

Note return to page 176 1&lblank; since thou madest thy daughters thy mother:] i. e. when you invested them with the authority of a mother. Thus the quartos. The folio reads with less propriety,—thy mothers. Malone.

Note return to page 177 2Then they for sudden joy did weep, &c.] So, in The Rape of Lucrece, by Heywood, 1630: “When Tarquin first in court began,   “And was approved King, “Some men for sodden joy gan weep,   “And I for sorrow sing.” I cannot ascertain in what year T. Heywood first published this play, as the copy in 1630, which I have used, was the fourth impression. Steevens. The first edition was in 1608. I have corrected Mr. Steevens's quotation from that copy. Boswell.

Note return to page 178 3That such a king should play bo-peep,] Little more of this game, than its mere denomination, remains. It is mentioned, however, in Churchyard's Charitie, 1593, in company with two other childish plays, which it is not my office to explain: “Cold parts men plaie, much like old plaine bo-peepe, “Or counterfait, in-dock-out-nettle, still.” Steevens.

Note return to page 179 4&lblank; that frontlet &lblank;] Lear alludes to the frontlet, which was anciently part of a woman's dress. So, in a play called The Four P's, 1569: “Forsooth, women have many lets, “And they be masked in many nets: “As frontlets, fillets, partlets, and bracelets: “And then their bonets and their pionets.” Again, in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “Hoods, frontlets, wires, cauls, curling-irons, perriwigs, bodkins, fillets, hair-laces, ribbons, roles, knotstrings, glasses,” &c. Again, and more appositely, in Zepheria, a collection of sonnets, 4to. 1594: “But now, my sunne, it fits thou take thy set “And vayle thy face with frownes as with a frontlet.” Steevens. A frontlet was a forehead-cloth, used formerly by ladies at night to render that part smooth. Lear, I suppose, means to say, that Goneril's brow was as completely covered by a frown, as it would be by a frontlet. So, in Lyly's Euphues and his England, 4to. 1580: “The next day I coming to the gallery where she was solitarily walking, with her frowning cloth, as sicke lately of the sullens,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 180 5&lblank; Now thou art an O without a figure:] The Fool means to say, that Lear, “having pared his wit on both sides, and left nothing in the middle,” is become a mere cypher; which has no arithmetical value, unless preceded or followed by some figure. In The Winter's Tale we have the same allusion, reversed: “&lblank; and therefore, like a cypher, “Yet standing in rich place, I multiply, “With one—we thank you,—many thousands more “Standing before it.” Malone.

Note return to page 181 6&lblank; I am better than thou, &c.] This bears some resemblance to Falstaff's reply to the Prince, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 182 7That's a shealed peascod.] i. e. Now a mere husk, which contains nothing. The outside of a king remains, but all the intrinsick parts of royalty are gone: he has nothing to give. Johnson. “That's a shealed peascod.” The robing of Richard II.'s effigy in Westminster Abbey is wrought with peascods open, and the peas out; perhaps an allusion to his being once in full possession of sovereignty, but soon reduced to an empty title. See Camden's Remains, 1674, p. 453, edit. 1657, p. 340. Tollet.

Note return to page 183 8&lblank; put it on &lblank;] i. e. promote, push it forward. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the powers above “Put on their instruments &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 184 9By your allowance;] By your approbation. Malone.

Note return to page 185 1&lblank; were left darkling.] This word is used by Milton, Paradise Lost, book iii: “&lblank; as the wakeful bird “Sings darkling &lblank;.” and long before, as Mr. Malone observes, by Marston, &c. Dr. Farmer concurs with me in supposing, that the words— “So, out went the candle,” &c. are a fragment of some old song. Steevens. Shakspeare's Fools are certainly copied from the life. The originals whom he copied were no doubt men of quick parts; lively and sarcastick. Though they were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary to prevent giving offence, that every thing they said should have a playful air: we may suppose therefore that they had a custom of taking off the edge of too sharp a speech by covering it hastily with the end of an old song, or any glib nonsense that came into the mind. I know no other way of accounting for the incoherent words with which Shakspeare often finishes this Fool's speeches. Sir Joshua Reynolds. In a very old dramatick piece, entitled A very mery and pythie Comedy, called The Longer Thou Livest the more Foole Thou Art, printed about the year 1580, we find the following stage-direction: “Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vaine gesture and a foolish countenance, synging the foote of many songs, as fools were wont.” Malone. See my note on Act III. Sc. VI. in which this passage was brought forward, long ago, [1773] for a similar purpose of illustration. Steevens.

Note return to page 186 2Come, sir,] The folio omits these words, and reads the rest of the speech, I think rightly, as verse. Boswell.

Note return to page 187 3&lblank; transform you &lblank;] Thus the quartos. The folio reads —transport you. Steevens.

Note return to page 188 4&lblank; Whoop, Jug! &c.] There are in the Fool's speeches several passages which seem to be proverbial allusions, perhaps not now to be understood. Johnson. “&lblank; Whoop, Jug! I love thee.” This, as I am informed, is a quotation from the burthen of an old song. Steevens. In Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, we meet with a song in which the burthen is— “My juggie, my puggie, my honie, my conie,   “My love, my dove, my deere; “Oh the weather is cold, it blowes, it snowes,   “Oh! oh! let me be lodged heere.” Boswell.

Note return to page 189 4&lblank; this is not Lear:] This passage appears to have been imitated by Ben Jonson in his Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; this is not Marian! “Nor am I Robin Hood! I pray you ask her! “Ask her, good shepherds! ask her all for me: “Or rather ask yourselves, if she be she; “Or I be I.” Steevens.

Note return to page 190 5&lblank; Lear's shadow?] The folio gives these words to the Fool. Steevens. And, I believe, rightly. M. Mason.

Note return to page 191 6&lblank; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, &c.] His daughters prove so unnatural, that, if he were only to judge by the reason of things, he must conclude, they cannot be his daughters. This is the thought. But how does his kingship or sovereignty enable him to judge of this matter? The line, by being false pointed, has lost its sense, We should read: “Of sovereignty of knowledge &lblank;.” i. e. the understanding. He calls it, by an equally fine phrase, in Hamlet,—Sovereignty of reason. And it is remarkable that the editors had depraved it there too. See note, Act I. Sc. VII. of that play. [vol. vii. p. 236.] Warburton. The contested passage is wanting in the folio. Steevens. The difficulty, which must occur to every reader, is, to conceive how the marks of sovereignty, of knowledge, and of reason, should be of any use to persuade Lear that he had, or had not, daughters. No logick, I apprehend, could draw such a conclusion from such premises. This difficulty, however, may be entirely removed, by only pointing the passage thus:—“for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and of reason, I should be false persuaded— I had daughters.—Your name, fair gentlewoman?” The chain of Lear's speech being thus untangled, we can clearly trace the succession and connection of his ideas. The undutiful behaviour of his daughter so disconcerts him, that he doubts, by turns, whether she is Goneril, and whether he himself is Lear. Upon her first speech, he only exclaims, “&lblank; Are you our daughter?” Upon her going on in the same style, he begins to question his own sanity of mind, and even his personal identity. He appeals to the by-standers, “Who is it that can tell me who I am?” I should be glad to be told. For (if I was to judge myself) by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, which once distinguished Lear, (but which I have now lost) I should be false (against my own consciousness) persuaded (that I am not Lear). He then slides to the examination of another distinguishing mark of Lear: “&lblank; I had daughters.” But not able, as it should seem, to dwell upon so tender a subject, he hastily recurs to his first doubt concerning Goneril,— “Your name, fair gentlewoman?” Tyrwhitt. This notice is written with confidence disproportionate to the conviction which it can bring. Lear might as well know by the marks and tokens arising from sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, that he had or had not daughters, as he could know by any thing else. But, says he, if I judge by these tokens, I find the persuasion false by which I long thought myself the father of daughters. Johnson. I cannot approve of Dr. Warburton's manner of pointing this passage, as I do not think that sovereignty of knowledge can mean understanding; and if it did, what is the difference between understanding and reason? In the passage he quotes from Hamlet, sovereignty of reason appears to me to mean, the ruling power, the governance of reason; a sense that would not answer in this place. Mr. Tyrwhitt's observations are ingenious, but not satisfactory; and as for Dr. Johnson's explanation, though it would be certainly just had Lear expressed himself in the past, and said, “I have been false persuaded I had daughters,” it cannot be the just explanation of the passage as it stands. The meaning appears to me to be this: “Were I to judge from the marks of sovereignty, of knowledge, or of reason, I should be induced to think I had daughters, yet that must be a false persuasion;—It cannot be.” I could not at first comprehend why the tokens of sovereignty should have any weight in determining his persuasion that he had daughters; but by the marks of sovereignty he means, those tokens of royalty which his daughters then enjoyed as derived from him. M. Mason. Lear, it should be remembered, had not parted with all the marks of sovereignty. In the midst of his prodigality to his children, he reserved to himself the name and all the additions to a king.—Shakspeare often means more than he expresses. Lear has just asked whether he is a shadow. I wish, he adds, to be resolved on this point; for if I were to judge by the marks of sovereignty, and the consciousness of reason, I should be persuaded that I am not a shadow, but a man, a king, and a father. But this latter persuasion is false; for those whom I thought my daughters, are unnatural hags, and never proceeded from these loins. As therefore I am not a father, so neither may I be an embodied being; I may yet be a shadow. However, let me be certain. Your name, fair gentlewoman? All the late editions, without authority, read—by the marks of sovereignty, of knowledge, and of reason.—The words—I would learn that, &c. to—an obedient father, are omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 192 7Which they will make an obedient father.] Which, is on this occasion used with two deviations from present language. It is referred, contrary to the rules of grammarians, to the pronoun I, and is employed, according to a mode now obsolete, for whom, the accusative case of who. Steevens.

Note return to page 193 8Does any, &c.] In the first folio this whole passage is thus given: “Do's any heere know me? “This is not Lear: “Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eyes, “Either his notion weakens, his discernings “Are lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so? “Who is it that can tell me who I am? “Foole. Lear's shadow. “Lear. Your name, faire gentlewoman?” Boswell.

Note return to page 194 9&lblank; o' the favour &lblank;] i. e. of the complexion. So, in Julius Cæsar: “In favour's like the work we have in hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 195 1As you are old and reverend, you should be wise:] The redundancy of this line convinces me of its interpolation. What will the reader lose by the omission of the words—you should? I would print: “As you are old and reverend, be wise:” In the fourth line from this, the epithet—riotous, might for the same reason be omitted. To make an inn of a private house, by taking unwarrantable liberties in it, is still a common phrase. Steevens. Enough has been said already in answer to Mr. Steevens's antipathy to an Alexandrine; but, in this instance he might have avoided it, by adopting the text of the first folio: “As you are old and reverend, should be wise:” That is, as you are old and reverend, [and] should be wise, I do beseech you to understand my purposes aright. Boswell.

Note return to page 196 2&lblank; a grac'd palace.] A palace graced by the presence of a sovereign. Warburton.

Note return to page 197 3A little to disquantity your train;] A little is the common reading; but it appears, from what Lear says in the next scene, that this number fifty was required to be cut off, which (as the editions stood) is no where specified by Goneril. Pope. Mr. Pope for A little, substituted Of fifty. If Mr. Pope had examined the old copies as accurately as he pretended to have done, he would have found, in the first folio, that Lear had an exit marked for him after these words—[p. 69.] “To have a thankless child.—Away, away!” and goes out, while Albany and Goneril have a short conference of two speeches; and then returns in a still greater passion, having been informed (as it should seem) of the express number without: “What? fifty of my followers at a clap!” This renders all change needless; and away, away, being restored, prevents the repetition of go, go, my people; which, as the text stood before this regulation, concluded both that and the foregoing speech. Goneril, with great art, is made to avoid mentioning the limited number; and leaves her father to be informed of it by accident, which she knew would be the case as soon as he left her presence. Steevens.

Note return to page 198 4&lblank; still depend,] Depend, for continue in service. Warburton. So, in Measure for Measure: “Canst thou believe thy living is a life, “So stinkingly depending:” Steevens.

Note return to page 199 5Woe, that too late repents,] This is the reading of the olio. All the three quartos, for Woe, have We; and quartos A and C read—We that too late repent's—; i. e. repent us: which I suspect is the true reading. Shakspeare might have had The Mirrour for Magistrates in his thoughts: “They call'd him doting foole, all his requests debarr'd, “Demanding if with life he were not well content: “Then he too late his rigour did repent “'Gainst me—.” Story of Queen Cordila. Malone. My copy of the quarto, of which the first signature is A, [quarto B,] reads—We that too late repent's us. Steevens.

Note return to page 200 6&lblank; O, sir, are you come?] These words are not in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 201 7Than the sea-monster!] Mr. Upton observes, that the sea-monster is the Hippopotamus, the hieroglyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude. Sandys, in his Travels, says—“that he killeth his sire, and ravisheth his own dam.” Steevens.

Note return to page 202 8Pray, sir, be patient.] The quartos omit this speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 203 9&lblank; like an engine,] Mr. Edwards conjectures that by an engine is meant the rack. He is right. To engine is, in Chaucer, to strain upon the rack; and in the following passage from The Three Lords of London, 1590, engine seems to be used for the same instrument of torture: “From Spain they come with engine and intent “To slay, subdue, to triumph, and torment.” Again, in The Night-Walker, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Their souls shot through with adders, torn on engines.” Steevens.

Note return to page 204 1&lblank; Go, go, my people.] Perhaps these words ought to be regulated differently: “Go, go:—my people!” By Albany's answer it should seem that he had endeavoured to appease Lear's anger; and perhaps it was intended by the author that he should here be put back by the king with these words,—“Go, go;” and that Lear should then turn hastily from his son-in-law, and call his train: “My people!” Mes Gens, Fr. So, in a former part of this scene: “You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble “Make servants of their betters.” Again, in Othello, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; Call up my people.” However the passage be understood, these latter words must bear this sense. The meaning of the whole, indeed, may be only—“Away, away, my followers!” Malone. With Mr. Malone's last explanation I am perfectly satisfied. Steevens. The quartos put a mark of interrogation after people. Boswell.

Note return to page 205 2Of what hath mov'd you.] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 206 3&lblank; from her derogate body &lblank;] Derogate, for unnatural. Warburton. Rather, I think, degraded, blasted. Johnson. Her shrunk and wasted body. See Bullokar's English Expositor, 1616: “Derogate. To impaire, diminish, or take away.” Malone. Degraded (Dr. Johnson's first explanation) is surely the true one. So, in Cymbeline: “Is there no derogation in't?—You cannot derogate, my lord,” i. e. degrade yourself. Steevens.

Note return to page 207 4&lblank; thwart &lblank;] Thwart, as a noun adjective, is not frequent in our language. It is, however, to be found in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Sith fortune thwart doth crosse my joys with care.” Henderson.

Note return to page 208 5&lblank; disnatur'd &lblank;] Disnatur'd is wanting natural affection. So Daniel, in Hymen's Triumph, 1623: “I am not so disnatured a man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 209 *Quartos, accent tears.

Note return to page 210 6&lblank; cadent tears &lblank;] i. e. Falling tears. Dr. Warburton would read candent. Steevens. The words—“these hot tears,” in Lear's next speech, may seem to authorize the amendment; but the present reading is right. It is a more severe imprecation to wish, that tears by constant flowing may fret channels in the cheeks, which implies a long life of wretchedness, than to wish that those channels should be made by scalding tears, which does not mark the same continuation of misery. The same thought occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, “Their eyes o'er-galled with recourse of tears,” should prevent his going to the field. M. Mason.

Note return to page 211 7Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, To laughter and contempt;] “Her mother's pains” here signifies, not bodily sufferings, or the throes of child-birth, (with which this “disnatured babe” being unacquainted, it could not deride or despise them,) but maternal cares; the solicitude of a mother for the welfare of her child. So, in King Richard III.: “'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.” Benefits mean good offices: her kind and beneficent attention to the education of her offspring, &c. Mr. Roderick has, in my opinion, explained both these words wrong. He is equally mistaken in supposing that the sex of this child is ascertained by the word her; which clearly relates, not to Goneril's issue, but to herself. “Her mother's pains” means—the pains which she (Goneril) takes as a mother. Malone.

Note return to page 212 8How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is.] So, in Psalm cxl. 3.: “They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adder's poison is under their lips.” The viper was the emblem of ingratitude. Malone.

Note return to page 213 8That these hot tears, &c.] I will transcribe this passage from the first edition, that it may appear to those who are unacquainted with old books, what is the difficulty of revision, and what indulgence is due to those that endeavour to restore corrupted passages.—“That these hot tears, that breake from me perforce, should make the worst blasts and fogs upon the untender woundings of a father's curse, peruse every sense about the old fond eyes, beweep this cause again,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 214 9The untented woundings &lblank;] Untented wounds, means wounds in their worst state, not having a tent in them to digest them; and may possibly signify here such as will not admit of having a tent put into them for that purpose. Our author quibbles on this practice in surgery, in Troilus and Cressida: “Patr. Who keeps the tent now? “Ther. The surgeon's box or the patient's wound.” One of the quartos [Quarto B.] reads, unintender. Steevens.

Note return to page 215 1&lblank; that you lose,] The quartos read—that you make. Steevens.

Note return to page 216 2Let it be so, &c.] The reading is here gleaned up, part from the first, and part from the second edition. Johnson. “Let it be so,” is omitted in the quartos. Steevens. “Ha! is it come to this?” is omitted in the folio. “Yet I have left a daughter” is the reading of the quartos; the folio has, “I have another daughter.” Malone.

Note return to page 217 3&lblank; thou shalt, I warrant thee.] These words are omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 218 4Gon.] All within brackets is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 219 5At point,] I believe, means completely armed, and consequently ready at appointment or command on the slightest notice. Steevens.

Note return to page 220 6And hold our lives in mercy.] Thus the old copies. Mr. Pope, who could not endure that the language of Shakspeare's age should not correspond in every instance with that of modern times, reads—at mercy; and the subsequent editors have adopted his innovation. In mercy, in misericordiâ, is the legal phrase. Malone.

Note return to page 221 7Safer than trust:] Here the old copies add—too far; as if these words were not implied in the answer of Goneril. The redundancy of the metre authorizes the omission. Steevens.

Note return to page 222 8&lblank; How now, Oswald, &c.] The quartos read—what Oswald, ho! “Osw. Here, madam. “Gon. What, have you writ this letter,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 223 9&lblank; compact it more.] Unite one circumstance with another, so as to make a consistent account. Johnson. More is here used as a dissyllable. Malone. I must still withhold my assent from such new dissyllables. Some monosyllable has in this place been omitted. Perhaps the author wrote— “Go, get you gone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 224 1&lblank; more attask'd &lblank;] It is a common phrase now with parents and governesses: “I'll take you to task,” i. e. “I will reprehend and correct you.” To be at task, therefore, is to be liable to reprehension and correction. Johnson. Both the quartos, instead of attask—read, alapt. A late editor of King Lear, [Mr. Jennens] says, that the first quarto reads— attask'd; but unless there be a third quarto, which I have never seen or heard of, his assertion is erroneous. Steevens. The quarto printed by N. Butter, 1608, of which the first signature is B, reads—attask'd for want of wisdom, &c. The other quarto, printed by the same printer in the same year, of which the first signature is A, reads—alapt for want of wisdom,” &c. Three copies of the quarto first described, (which concur in reading attask'd,) and one copy of the other quarto, are now before me. The folio reads—at task.—The quartos have praise instead of prais'd. Attask'd, I suppose, means, charged, censured. So, in King Henry IV.: “How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt?” Malone. Both the quartos described by Mr. Malone are at this instant before me, and they concur in reading—alapt. I have left my two copies of Butter's publication (which I had formerly the honour of lending to Mr. Malone) at the shop of Messieurs White, booksellers, in Fleet-street. I have no doubt, however, but that Mr. Malone and myself are equally justifiable in our assertions, though they contradict each other; for it appears to me that some of the quartos (like the folio 1623) must have been partially corrected while at press. Consequently the copies first worked off, escaped without correction. Such is the case respecting two of the three quartos (for three there are) of King Henry IV. Part II. 1600. Steevens. I have already stated in the Preliminary Remarks that there are three quartos. The quarto which I have distinguished by the letter A, reads alapt; quarto, B and C, in Mr. Malone's collection, read attask'd. Boswell. The word task is frequently used by Shakspeare, and indeed by other writers of his time, in the sense of tax. Goneril means to say, that he was more taxed for want of wisdom, than praised for mildness. So, in The Island Princess, of Beaumont and Fletcher, Quisana says to Ruy Dias: “You are too saucy, too impudent, “To task me with those errors.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 225 2Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.] So, in our author's 103d Sonnet: “Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, “To mar the subject that before was well?” Malone.

Note return to page 226 3&lblank; there before you.] He seems to intend to go to his daughter, but it appears afterwards that he is going to the house of Gloster. Steevens. The word there in this speech shows, that when the king says, “Go you before to Gloster,” he means the town of Gloster, which, as Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed, Shakspeare chose to make the residence of the Duke of Cornwall and Regan, in order to give a probability to their setting out late from thence, on a visit to the Earl of Gloster, whose castle our poet conceived to be in the neighbourhood of that city. Our old English earls usually resided in the counties from whence they took their titles. Lear, not finding his son-in-law and his wife at home, follows them to the Earl of Gloster's castle. See Mr. Tyrwhitt's note, in Act II. Sc. IV. Malone.

Note return to page 227 4&lblank; thy other daughter will use thee kindly:] The Fool uses the word kindly here in two senses; it means affectionately, and like the rest of her kind. M. Mason.

Note return to page 228 *Quartos, yet I con, what I can tell.

Note return to page 229 5Why, what canst thou tell, my boy?] So the quartos. The folio reads—What canst tell, boy? Malone.

Note return to page 230 6I did her wrong:] He is musing on Cordelia. Johnson.

Note return to page 231 7To take it again perforce!] He is meditating on the resumption of his royalty. Johnson. He is rather meditating on his daughter's having in so violent a manner deprived him of those privileges which before she had agreed to grant him. Steevens. The subject of Lear's meditation is the resumption of that moiety of the kingdom which he had given to Goneril. This was what Albany apprehended, when he replied to the upbraidings of his wife:—“Well, well; the event:”—what Lear himself projected when he left Goneril to go to Regan:— “&lblank; Yet I have left a daughter, “Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable; “When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails “She'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find, “That I'll resume the shape, which thou dost think “I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.” And what Curan afterwards refers to, when he asks Edmund: “Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?” Henley.

Note return to page 232 8&lblank; unless things be cut shorter.] This idle couplet is apparently addressed to the females present at the performance of the play; and, not improbably, crept into the playhouse copy from the mouth of some buffoon actor, who “spoke more than was set down for him.” It should seem, from Shakspeare's speaking in this strong manner, that he had suffered the injury he describes. Indecent jokes, which the applause of the groundlings might occasion to be repeated, would, at last, find their way into the prompter's books, &c. I am aware, that such liberties were exercised by the authors of Locrine, &c.; but can such another offensive and extraneous address to the audience be pointed out among all the dramas of Shakspeare? Steevens.

Note return to page 233 *Quarto, ear bussing,

Note return to page 234 9&lblank; ear-kissing arguments?] Ear-kissing arguments means that they are yet in reality only whisper'd ones. Steevens.

Note return to page 235 1Cur.] This, and the following speech, are omitted in one of the quartos. Steevens. That which I have distinguished as quarto B. Boswell.

Note return to page 236 2&lblank; queazy question,] Something of a suspicious, questionable, and uncertain nature. This is, I think, the meaning. Johnson. Queazy, I believe, rather means delicate, unsettled, what requires to be handled nicely. So, Ben Jonson, in Sejanus: “Those times are somewhat queasy to be touch'd.— “Have you not seen or read part of his book?” Again, in Letters from the Paston family, vol. ii. p. 127: “&lblank; the world seemeth queasy here.” Again, in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “Notes of a queas and sick stomach, labouring “With want of a true injury.” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Despight of his quick wit, and queazy stomach.” Steevens. Queazy is still used in Devonshire, to express that sickishness of stomach which the slightest disgust is apt to provoke. Henley.

Note return to page 237 *Quartos, Which must aske breefnesse, and fortune help.

Note return to page 238 3&lblank; i' the haste,] I should have supposed we ought to read only—in haste, had I not met with our author's present phrase in XII Merry Jests of the Wyddow Edyth, 1573: “To London they tooke in all the haste, “They wolde not once tarry to breake their faste.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 4&lblank; Have you nothing said Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany?] The meaning is, “Have you said nothing upon the party formed by him against the duke of Albany?” Hanmer. I cannot but think the line corrupted, and would read: “Against his party, for the duke of Albany?” Johnson.

Note return to page 240 5Advise yourself.] i. e. consider, recollect yourself. So, in Twelfth Night: “Advise you what you say.” Steevens.

Note return to page 241 6&lblank; I have seen drunkards Do more than this in sport.] So, in a passage already quoted in a note on The Winter's Tale, Act II. Sc. II. “Have I not been drunk for your health, eat glasses, drunk urine, stabbed arms, and done all offices of protested gallantry for your sake?”— Marston's Dutch Courtezan. Steevens.

Note return to page 242 7Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon &lblank;] This was a proper circumstance to urge to Gloster; who appears, by what passed between him and his bastard son in a foregoing scene, to be very superstitious with regard to this matter. Warburton. The quartos read warbling, instead of mumbling. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 8&lblank; conjuring the moon To stand his auspicious mistress:] So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, “As thy auspicious mistress.” Malone.

Note return to page 244 *Quartos, revengive.

Note return to page 245 9&lblank; their thunders &lblank;] First quarto; the rest have it, the thunder. Johnson.

Note return to page 246 1&lblank; gasted &lblank;] Frighted. Johnson. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at several Weapons: “&lblank; either the sight of the lady has gasted him, or else he's drunk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 247 2Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; And found—Dispatch.—The noble duke, &c.] The sense is interrupted. He shall be caught—and found, he shall be punished. Despatch. Johnson.

Note return to page 248 3&lblank; arch &lblank;] i. e. Chief; a word now used only in composition, as arch-angel, arch-duke. So, in Heywood's If You Know Not Me, You Know Nobody, 1613: “Poole, that arch of truth and honesty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 249 4&lblank; murderous coward &lblank;] The first edition reads caitiff. Johnson.

Note return to page 250 5And found him pight to do it, with curst speech &lblank;] Pight is pitched, fixed, settled. Curst is severe, harsh, vehemently angry. Johnson. So, in the old morality of Lusty Juventus, 1561: “Therefore my heart is surely pyght “Of her alone to have a sight.” Thus, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; tents “Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains.” Steevens.

Note return to page 251 6&lblank; would the reposal &lblank;] i. e. Would any opinion that men have reposed in thy trust, virtue, &c. Warburton. The old quarto reads, “could the reposure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 252 7&lblank; though thou didst produce My very character, &lblank;] i. e. my very handwriting. See vol. ix. p. 180. Malone.

Note return to page 253 *Quartos, pretence.

Note return to page 254 8&lblank; make a dullard of the world,] So, in Cymbeline: “What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?” Steevens.

Note return to page 255 9&lblank; pregnant and potential spurs &lblank;] Thus the quartos. Folio: potential spirits. Malone.

Note return to page 256 1Strong and fasten'd villain!] Thus the quartos. The folio reads—O strange and fasten'd villain. Malone. Strong is determined. Of this epithet our ancestors were uncommonly fond. Thus in the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, MS: “And my doghter that hore stronge “Ibronte shal be,” &c. The same term of obloquy is many times repeated by the hero of this poem. Steevens.

Note return to page 257 2Would he deny his letter?—I never got him.] Thus the quartos. The folio omits the words—I never got him; and, instead of them, substitutes—said he? Malone.

Note return to page 258 3&lblank; of my land, &lblank; To make thee capable.] i. e. capable of succeeding to my land, notwithstanding the legal bar of thy illegitimacy. So, in The Life and Death of Will Summers, &c.—“The king next demanded of him (he being a fool) whether he were capable to inherit any land,” &c. Similar phraseology occurs also in Chapman's version of the sixteenth Iliad: “&lblank; an inmate in a towne, “That is no city libertine, nor capable of their gowne.” Steevens.

Note return to page 259 4&lblank; strange news.] Thus the quartos. Instead of these words the folio has—strangeness. Malone.

Note return to page 260 5Yes, madam, he was.] Thus the quartos. The folio deranges the metre by adding— “&lblank; of that consort.” Steevens.

Note return to page 261 6To have the waste and spoil of his revenues.] Thus quartos A and C; quarto B, reads— “To have these—and waste of this his revenues.” The folio: “To have the expence and waste of his revenues.” These in quarto B was, I suppose, a misprint for—the use. Malone. The remark made in p. 73, is confirmed by the present circumstance; for both my quartos read with Mr. Malone's quarto B: “To have these—and waste of this his revenues.” It is certain therefore that there is a third quarto which I have never seen. Steevens.

Note return to page 262 7He did bewray his practice;] To bewray is to reveal or discover. See Minsheu's Dictionary, 1617, in v. “To bewraie, or disclose, a Goth. bewrye.” Malone. So, in The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “We were bewray'd, beset, and forc'd to yield.” Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “Thy solitary passions should bewray “Some discontent &lblank;.” Practice is always used by Shakspeare for insidious mischief. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “&lblank; his heart fainted and gat a conceit, that with bewraying this practice, he might obtaine pardon.” The quartos read—betray. Steevens.

Note return to page 263 8&lblank; he is.] These words were supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer to complete the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 264 9Whose virtue and obedience doth &lblank;] i. e. whose virtuous obedience. Malone.

Note return to page 265 1For him I thank your grace.] Sir Thomas Hanmer, judiciously, in my opinion, omits—For him, as needless to the sense, and injurious to the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 266 2&lblank; threading dark-ey'd night.] The quarto reads: “&lblank; threat'ning dark-ey'd night.” Johnson. Shakspeare uses the former of these expressions in Coriolanus, Act III.: “They would not thread the gates.” Steevens.

Note return to page 267 3&lblank; of some poize,] i. e. of some weight or moment. So, in Othello: “&lblank; full of poize and difficulty, “And fearful to be granted.” Thus the quartos A and C. Quarto B, and the folio, have prize. Malone. Here again both my quartos read with Mr. Malone's quarto B— prize; though poize is undoubtedly the preferable reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 268 4&lblank; from our home;] Not at home, but at some other place. Johnson. Thus the folio. The quartos A and C read “&lblank; which I lest thought it fit to answer from our home.” The quarto B, “&lblank; which I best thought it fit to answer from our hand.” Malone. Both my quartos—best, and “from our hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 269 5&lblank; to our business,] Thus the quartos. Folio—to our businesses. Malone.

Note return to page 270 6Good dawning to thee, friend:] Thus the folio. The quartos—Good even. Dawning is again used, in Cymbeline, as a substantive, for morning: “&lblank; that dawning “May bare the raven's eye.” It is clear, from various passages in this scene, that the morning is now just beginning to dawn, though the moon is still up, and though Kent, early in the scene, calls it still night. Towards the close of it, he wishes Gloster good morrow, as the latter goes out, and immediately after calls on the sun to shine, that he may read a letter. Malone. We should read with the folio—“Good dawning to thee, friend.” The latter end of this scene shows that it passed in the morning; for when Kent is placed in the stocks, Cornwall says, “There he shall sit till noon;” and Regan replies, “Till noon, till night:” and it passed very early in the morning; for Regan tells Gloster, in the preceding page, that she had been threading dark-ey'd night to come to him. M. Mason.

Note return to page 271 7&lblank; of the house?] So the quartos. Folio—of this house? Malone.

Note return to page 272 8&lblank; Lipsbury pinfold,] The allusion which seems to be contained in this line I do not understand. In the violent eruption of reproaches which bursts from Kent, in this dialogue, there are some epithets which the commentators have left unexpounded, and which I am not very able to make clear. Of a three-suited knave I know not the meaning, unless it be that he has different dresses for different occupations. Lily-livered is cowardly; white-blooded and white-livered are still in vulgar use. An one-trunk-inheriting slave, I take to be a wearer of old cast-off clothes, an inheritor of torn breeches. Johnson. I do not find the name of Lipsbury: it may be a cant phrase, with some corruption, taken from a place where the fines were arbitrary. Three-suited should, I believe, be third-suited, wearing clothes at the third hand. Edgar, in his pride, had three suits only. Farmer. Lipsbury pinfold may be a cant expression importing the same as Lob's Pound. So, in Massinger's Duke of Milan: “To marry her, and say he was the party “Found in Lob's Pound.” A pinfold is a pound. Thus, in Gascoigne's Dan Bartholomew of Bathe, 1587: “In such a pin-folde were his pleasures pent.” Three-suited knave might mean, in an age of ostentatious finery like that of Shakspeare, one who had no greater change of raiment than three suits would furnish him with. So, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman: “&lblank; wert a pitiful fellow, and hadst nothing but three suits of apparel:” or it may signify a fellow thrice-sued at law, who has three suits for debt standing out against him. A one-trunk-inheriting slave may be a term used to describe a fellow, the whole of whose possessions are confined to one coffer, and that too inherited from his father, who was no better provided, or had nothing more to bequeath to his successor in poverty; a poor rogue hereditary, as Timon calls Apemantus. A worsted-stocking knave is another reproach of the same kind. The stockings in England, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, (as I learn from Stubbs's Anatomie of Abuses, printed in 1595,) were remarkably expensive, and scarce any other kind than silk were worn, even (as this author says) by those who had not above forty shillings a year wages. So, in an old comedy, called The Hog hath Lost its Pearl, 1614, by R. Tailor: “&lblank; good parts are no more set by in these times, than a good leg in a woollen stocking.” Again, in The Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Green sicknesses and serving-men light on you, “With greasy breeches, and in woollen stockings.” Again, in The Miseries of inforc'd Marriage, 1607, two sober young men came to claim their portion from their elder brother, who is a spendthrift, and tell him: “Our birth-right, good brother: this town craves maintenance; silk stockings must be had,” &c. Silk stockings were not made in England till 1560, the second year of Queen Elizabeth's reign. Of this extravagance Drayton takes notice, in the 16th Song of his Polyolbion: “Which our plain fathers erst would have accounted sin, “Before the costly coach and silken stock came in.” Steevens. This term of reproach also occurs in the Phœnix, by Middleton, 1607: “Mettreza Auriola keeps her love with half the cost that I am at; her friend can go afoot, like a good husband; walk in worsted stockings, and inquire for the sixpenny ordinary.” Malone.

Note return to page 273 9&lblank; hundred-pound,] A hundred-pound gentleman is a term of reproach used in Middleton's Phœnix, 1607. Steevens.

Note return to page 274 1&lblank; action-taking knave:] i. e. a fellow, who, if you beat him, would bring an action for the assault, instead of resenting it like a man of courage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 275 *Quartos omit superserviceable, and read superfinical.

Note return to page 276 2&lblank; a whoreson, glass-gazing, &lblank; rogue;] This epithet none of the commentators have explained; nor am I sure that I understand it. In Timon of Athens, “the glass-fac'd flatterer” is mentioned, that is, says Dr. Johnson, “he that shows in his own look, as by reflection, the looks of his patron.” Glass-gazing may be licentiously used for one enamoured of himself; who gazes often at his own person in a glass. Malone.

Note return to page 277 3&lblank; addition.] i. e. titles. The Statute 1 Hen. V. ch. 5, which directs that in certain writs a description should be added to the name of the defendant, expressive of his estate, mystery, degree, &c. is called the statute of Additions. Malone.

Note return to page 278 4&lblank; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you:] This is equivalent to our modern phrase of making the sun shine through any one. But, alluding to the natural philosophy of that time, it is obscure. The Peripateticks thought, though falsely, that the rays of the moon were cold and moist. The speaker therefore says, he would make a sop of his antagonist, which should absorb the humidity of the moon's rays, by letting them into his guts. For this reason Shakspeare, in Romeo and Juliet, says: “&lblank; the moonshine's watry beams.” And, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watry moon.” Warburton. I much question if our author had so deep a meaning as is here imputed to him by his more erudite commentator. Steevens. “I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you.” Perhaps here an equivoque was intended. In The Old Shepherd's Kalendar, among the dishes recommended for Prymetyne, “One is egges in moneshine.” Farmer. Again, in some verses within a letter of Howell's to Sir Thomas How: “Could I those whitely stars go nigh, “Which make the milky way i' th' skie, “I'd poach them, and as moonshine dress, “To make my Delia a curious mess.” Steevens. I suppose he means, that after having beaten the Steward sufficiently, and made his flesh as soft as moistened bread, he will lay him flat on the ground, like a sop in a pan, or a tankard. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “And make a sop of all this solid globe.” Malone.

Note return to page 279 5&lblank; barber-monger,] Of this word I do not clearly see the force. Johnson. Barber-monger may mean, dealer in the lower tradesmen: a slur upon the steward, as taking fees for a recommendation to the business of the family. Farmer. Barber-monger perhaps means one who consorts much with barbers. Malone. A barber-monger; i. e. a fop who deals much with barbers, to adjust his hair and beard. M. Mason.

Note return to page 280 6&lblank; vanity the puppet's part,] Alluding to the mysteries or allegorical shows, in which vanity, iniquity, and other vices, were personified. Johnson. So, in Volpone, or the Fox: “Get you a cittern, Lady Vanity.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's description is applicable only to the old moralities, between which and the mysteries there was an essential difference. Ritson.

Note return to page 281 7&lblank; neat slave,] You mere slave, you very slave. Johnson. “You neat slave,” I believe, means no more than you finical rascal, you are an assemblage of foppery and poverty. Ben Jonson uses the same epithet in his Poetaster: “By thy leave, my neat scoundrel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 282 8He dies, that strikes again:] So, in Othello: “He that stirs next to carve for his own rage, “He dies upon the motion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 283 9&lblank; nature disclaims in thee;] So the quartos and the folio. The modern editors read, without authority: “&lblank; nature disclaims her share in thee.” The old reading is the true one. So, in R. Brome's Northern Lass, 1633: “&lblank; I will disclaim in your favour hereafter.” Again, in The Case is Alter'd, by Ben Jonson, 1609: “Thus to disclaim in all th' effects of pleasure.” Again: “No, I disclaim in her, I spit at her.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. iii. chap. xvi.: “Not these, my lords, make me disclaim in it which all pursue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 284 1Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!] Zed is here probably used as a term of contempt, because it is the last letter in the English alphabet, and as its place may be supplied by S. and the Roman alphabet has it not; neither is it read in any word originally Teutonick. In Barret's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, it is quite omitted, as the author affirms it to be rather a syllable than a letter. C (as Dr. Johnson supposed) cannot be the unnecessary letter, as there are many words in which its place will not be supplied with any other, as charity chastity, &c. Steevens. This is taken from the grammarians of the time. Mulcaster says, “Z is much harder amongst us, and seldom seen:—S is become its lieutenant general. It is lightlie expressed in English, saving in foren enfranchisements.” Farmer.

Note return to page 285 2&lblank; this unbolted villain &lblank;] i. e. unrefined by education, the bran yet in him. Metaphor from the bakehouse. Warburton.

Note return to page 286 3&lblank; into mortar,] This expression was much in use in our author's time. So, Massinger, in his New Way to pay old Debts, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; I will help your memory, “And tread thee into mortar.” Steevens. Unbolted mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime, and therefore to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it by men in wooden shoes. This unbolted villain is therefore this coarse rascal. Tollet.

Note return to page 287 4Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege.] So, in King John: “Sir, sir, impatience hath its privilege.” Steevens.

Note return to page 288 5&lblank; Such smiling rogues as these,] The words—as these, are, in my opinion, a manifest interpolation, and derange the metre without the least improvement of the sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 6Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain Which are too intrinse t'unloose:] By these holy cords the poet means the natural union between parents and children. The metaphor is taken from the cords of the sanctuary; and the fomenters of family differences are compared to those sacrilegious rats. The expression is fine and noble. Warburton. The quartos read—to intrench. The folio—t'intrince. Intrinse, for so it should be written, I suppose was used by Shakspeare for intrinsecate, a word which, as Theobald has observed, he has used in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Come, mortal wretch, “With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsecate “Of life at once untie.” We have had already in this play reverbs for reverberates. Again, in Hamlet: “Season your admiration for a while “With an attent ear.” The word intrinsecate was but newly introduced into our language, when this play was written. See the preface to Marston's Scourge of Villanie, 1598: “I know he will vouchsafe it some of his new-minted epithets; as real, intrinsecate, Delphicke,” &c. I doubt whether Dr. Warburton has not, as usual, seen more in this passage than the poet intended. In the quartos the word holy is not found, and I suspect it to be an interpolation made in the folio edition. We might perhaps better read with the elder copy: “Like rats, oft bite those cords in twain, which are “Too,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 290 7&lblank; smooth every passion &lblank;] So the old copies; for which Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors substituted sooth. The verb to smooth occurs frequently in our elder writers. So, in Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1592: “For since he learn'd to use the poet's pen, “He learn'd likewise with smoothing words to feign.” Again, in Titus Andronicus: “Yield to his humour, smooth, and speak him fair.” Again, in our poet's King Richard III.: “Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.” Malone. Mr. Holt White has observed, in a note on Pericles, that in some counties they say—“smooth the cat,” instead of “stroke the cat.” Thus also Milton: “&lblank; smoothing the raven down “Of darkness &lblank;.” Thus also in Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 8vo. 1583: “If you will learn to deride, scoffe, mock and flowt, to flatter and smooth,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 8Renege,] Deny. It is used by Shakspeare in the first speech of Antony and Cleopatra, where it is illustrated by a quotation from Stany hurst's Virgil; Mr. Todd finds an authority for it in the works of King Charles the First. Boswell.

Note return to page 292 9&lblank; and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters,] The halcyon is the bird otherwise called the king-fisher. The vulgar opinion was, that this bird, if hung up, would vary with the wind, and by that means show from what point it blew. So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “But how now stands the wind? “Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill?” Again, in Storer's Life and Death of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinall, a poem, 1599: “Or as a halcyon with her turning brest, “Demonstrates wind from wind, and east from west.” Again, in The Tenth Booke of Notable Thinges, by Thomas Lupton, 4to. bl. l.: “A lytle byrde called the Kings Fysher, being hanged up in the ayre by the neck, his nebbe or byll wyll be alwayes dyrect or strayght against ye winde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 293 9&lblank; As knowing nought.] As was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer, for the sake of connection as well as metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 294 1&lblank; epileptick visage!] The frighted countenance of a man ready to fall in a fit. Johnson.

Note return to page 295 2&lblank; Camelot.] Was the place where the romances say king Arthur kept his court in the West; so this alludes to some proverbial speech in those romances. Warburton. So, in The Birth of Merlin, 1662: “&lblank; raise more powers “To man with strength the castle Camelot.” Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song III.: “Like Camelot, what place was ever yet renown'd? “Where, as at Carlion, oft he kept the table round.” Steevens. In Somersetshire, near Camelot, are many large moors, where are bred great quantities of geese, so that many other places are from hence supplied with quills and feathers. Hanmer.

Note return to page 296 3No contraries hold more antipathy, Than I and such a knave.] Hence Mr. Pope's expression: “The strong antipathy of good to bad.” Tollet.

Note return to page 297 4&lblank; likes me not.] i. e. pleases me not. So, in Every Man out of his Humour: “I did but cast an amorous eye, e'en now, “Upon a pair of gloves that somewhat lik'd me.” Again, in The Sixth Booke of Notable Thinges, by Thomas Lupton, 4to. bl. l.: “&lblank; if the wyne have gotten his former strength, the water will smell, and then the wyne will lyke thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 298 5&lblank; constrains the garb, Quite from his nature:] Forces his outside or his appearance to something totally different from his natural disposition. Johnson.

Note return to page 299 6Than twenty silly ducking observants,] Silly means simple, or rustick. So, in Cymbeline, Act V. Sc. III.: “There was a fourth man in a silly habit,” meaning Posthumus in the dress of a peasant. Nicely is with punctilious folly. Niais, Fr. Steevens. See Cymbeline, Act V. Sc. III. Nicely is, I think, with the utmost exactness, with an attention to the most minute trifle. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “The letter was not nice, but full of charge.” Malone.

Note return to page 300 7On flickering Phœbus' front,] Dr. Johnson, in his Dictionary, says this word means to flutter. I meet with it in The History of Clyomon, Knight of the Golden Shield, 1599: “By flying force of flickering fame your grace shall understand.” Again, in The Pilgrim of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; some castrel “That hovers over her, and dares her daily; “Some flickring slave.” Stanyhurst, in his translation of the fourth book of Virgil's Æneid, 1582, describes Iris— “From the sky down flickering,” &c. And again, in the old play entitled, Fuimus Troes, 1663: “With gaudy pennons flickering in the air.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's interpretation is too vague for the purpose. To flicker is indeed to flutter; but in a particular manner, which may be better exemplified by the motion of a flame, than explained by any verbal description. Henley.

Note return to page 301 8&lblank; though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it.] Though I should win you, displeased as you now are, to like me so well as to entreat me to be a knave. Johnson.

Note return to page 302 9Never any:] Old copy: “I never gave him any.” The words here omitted, which are unnecessary to sense and injurious to metre, were properly extruded by Sir T. Hanmer, as a manifest interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 1&lblank; conjunct,] Is the reading of the old quartos; compact, of the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 2&lblank; fleshment &lblank;] A young soldier is said to flesh his sword, the first time he draws blood with it. Fleshment, therefore, is here metaphorically applied to the first act of service, which Kent, in his new capacity, had performed for his master; and, at the same time, in a sarcastick sense, as though he had esteemed it an heroick exploit to trip a man behind, that was actually falling. Henley.

Note return to page 305 3Drew on me here.] Old copy: “Drew on me here again.” But as Kent had not drawn on him before, and as the adverb —again, corrupts the metre, I have ventured to leave it out. Steevens.

Note return to page 306 4But Ajax is their fool.] i. e. a fool to them. These rogues and cowards talk in such a boasting strain, that if we were to credit their account of themselves, Ajax would appear a person of no prowess when compared with them. Since the first publication of this note in my Second Appendix to the Supplement to Shakspeare, 1783, I have observed that our poet has elsewhere employed the same phraseology. So, in The Taming of the Shrew “Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; now this mask “Was cry'd incomparable, and the ensuing night “Made it a fool and beggar.” The phrase in this sense is yet used in low language. Malone. So, in The Wife for a Month, Alphonso says: “The experienc'd drunkards, let me have them all, “And let them drink their wish, I'll make them ideots.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 307 5&lblank; ancient knave,] Two of the quartos read—miscreant knave, and one of them—unreverent, instead of reverend. Steevens. Quarto A, and quarto C, read miscreant; quarto B, ausrent; quarto A, reads unreverent. Boswell.

Note return to page 308 *Quartos, stopping.

Note return to page 309 6Stocks, &c.] This is not the first time that stocks had been introduced on the stage. In Hick Scorner, which was printed early in the reign of King Henry VIII. Pity is put into them, and left there till he is freed by Perseverance and Contemplacyon. Steevens.

Note return to page 310 7&lblank; colour &lblank;] The quartos read, nature. Steevens.

Note return to page 311 8His fault &lblank;] All between the brackets is omitted in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 312 9&lblank; and contemned'st wretches,] The quartos read—and temnest wretches. This conjectural emendation was suggested by Mr. Steevens. Malone. I found this correction already made in an ancient hand in the margin of one of the quarto copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 313 †First folio, the king his master needs must take it ill.

Note return to page 314 1For following her affairs, &c.] This line is not in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 315 2I know not whether this circumstance of putting Kent in the stocks be not ridiculed in the punishment of Numps, in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew-Fair. It should be remembered, that formerly in great houses, as still in some colleges, there were moveable stocks for the correction of the servants. Farmer.

Note return to page 316 3Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd:] Metaphor from bowling. Warburton.

Note return to page 317 4Good king, that must approve the common saw, &c.] That art now to exemplify the common proverb, “That out of,” &c. That changest better for worse. Hanmer observes, that it is a proverbial saying, applied to those who are turned out of house and home to the open weather. It was perhaps used of men dismissed from an hospital, or house of charity, such as was erected formerly in many places for travellers. Those houses had names properly enough alluded to by heaven's benediction. Johnson. The saw alluded to, is in Heywood's Dialogues on Proverbs, book ii. chap. v.: “In your running from him to me, ye runne “Out of God's blessing into the warme sunne.” Tyrwhitt. Kent was not thinking of the king's being turned out of house and home to the open weather, a misery which he has not yet experienced, but of his being likely to receive a worse reception from Regan than that which he had already experienced from his elder daughter Goneril. Hanmer therefore certainly misunderstood the passage. A quotation from Holinshed's Chronicle, may prove the best comment on it. “This Augustine after his arrival converted the Saxons indeed from Paganisme, but, as the proverb sayth, bringing them out of Goddes blessing into the warme sunne, he also embued them with no lesse hurtful superstition than they did know before.” See also Howell's Collection of English Proverbs, in his Dictionary, 1660: “He goes out of God's blessing to the warm sun, viz. from good to worse.” Malone.

Note return to page 318 5&lblank; Nothing almost sees miracles,] Thus the folio. The quartos read—Nothing almost sees my wrack. Steevens.

Note return to page 319 6&lblank; I know, 'tis from Cordelia; &c.] This passage, which some of the editors have degraded as spurious to the margin, and others have silently altered, I have faithfully printed according to the quarto, from which the folio differs only in punctuation. The passage is very obscure, if not corrupt. Perhaps it may be read thus: “&lblank; Cordelia &lblank; has been &lblank; informed “Of my obscured course, and shall find time &lblank; “From this enormous state-seeking, to give “Losses their remedies &lblank;.” Cordelia is informed of our affairs, and when the enormous care of seeking her fortune will allow her time, she will employ it in remedying losses. This is harsh; perhaps something better may be found. I have at least supplied the genuine reading of the old copies. Enormous is unwonted, out of rule, out of the ordinary course of things. Johnson. So, Holinshed, p. 647: “The maior perceiving this enormous doing,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 320 7&lblank; and shall find time From this enormous state,—seeking to give Losses their remedies:] I confess I do not understand this passage, unless it may be considered as divided parts of Cordelia's letter, which he is reading to himself by moonlight: it certainly conveys the sense of what she would have said. In reading a letter, it is natural enough to dwell on those circumstances in it that promise the change in our affairs which we most wish for; and Kent having read Cordelia's assurances that she will find a time to free the injured from the enormous misrule of Regan, is willing to go to sleep with that pleasing reflection uppermost in his mind. But this is mere conjecture. Steevens. In the old copies these words are printed in the same character as the rest of the speech. I have adhered to them, not conceiving that they form any part of Cordelia's letter, or that any part of it is or can be read by Kent. He wishes for the rising of the sun, that he may read it. I suspect that two half lines have been lost between the words state and seeking. This enormous state means, I think, the confusion subsisting in the state, in consequence of the discord which had arisen between the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; of which Kent hopes Cordelia will avail herself. He says, in a subsequent scene— “&lblank; There is division, “Although as yet the face of it be cover'd “With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall.” In the modern editions, after the words under globe, the following direction has been inserted: “Looking up to the moon.” Kent is surely here addressing, not the moon, but the sun, which he has mentioned in the preceding line, and for whose rising he is impatient, that he may read Cordelia's letter. He has just before said to Gloster, “Give you good morrow!” The comfortable beams of the moon, no poet, I believe, has mentioned. Those of the sun are again mentioned by Shakspeare in Timon of Athens: “Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!” Malone. Dr. Johnson's explanation of this passage cannot be right; for although in the old ballad from whence this play is supposed to be taken, Cordelia is forced to seek her fortune, in the play itself she is Queen of France; and has no fortune to seek; but it is more difficult to discover the real meaning of this speech, than to refute his conjecture. It seems to me, that the verb, shall find, is not governed by the word Cordelia, but by the pronoun I, in the beginning of the sentence; and that the words from this enormous state, do not refer to Cordelia, but to Kent himself, dressed like a clown, and condemned to the stocks,—an enormous state indeed for a man of his high rank. The difficulty of this passage has arisen from a mistake in all the former editors, who have printed these three lines as if they were a quotation from Cordelia's letter, whereas they are in fact the words of Kent himself; let the reader consider them in that light, as part of Kent's own speech, the obscurity is at an end, and the meaning is clearly this: “I know that the letter is from Cordelia, (who hath been informed of my obscured course,) and shall gain time, by this strange disguise and situation, which I shall employ in seeking to remedy our present losses.” M. Mason. Notwithstanding the ingenuity and confidence of Mr. M. Mason, (who has not however done justice to his own idea,) I cannot but concur with Mr. Steevens, in ascribing these broken expressions to the letter of Cordelia. For, if the words were Kent's, there will be no intimation from the letter that can give the least insight to Cordelia's design; and the only apparent purport of it will be, to tell Kent that she knew his situation. But exclusive of this consideration, what hopes could Kent entertain, in a condition so deplorable as his, unless Cordelia should take an opportunity, from the anarchy of the kingdom, and the broils subsisting between Albany and Cornwall, of finding a time, to give losses their remedies? Curan had before mentioned to Edmund, the rumour of wars toward, between these dukes. This report had reached Cordelia, who, having also discovered the situation and fidelity of Kent, writes to inform him, that she should avail herself of the first opportunity which the enormities of the times might offer, of restoring him to her father's favour, and her father to his kingdom. [See Act III. Sc. I. Act IV. Sc. III.] Henley. My reason for concurring with former editors in a supposition that the moon, not the sun, was meant by the beacon, arose from a consideration that the term beacon was more applicable to the moon, being, like that planet, only designed for night-service. As to the epithet—comfortable, it suits with either luminary; for he who is compelled to travel, or sit abroad, in the night, must surely have derived comfort from the lustre of the moon. The mention of the sun in the preceding proverbial sentence is quite accidental, and therefore ought not, in my opinion, to have weight on the present occasion.—By what is here urged, however, I do not mean to insinuate that Mr. Malone's opinion is indefensible. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's note on this passage is extremely curious. He had constantly, before my edition appeared, read, at the beginning of this scene,—good even to you; and, conformably with this notion, had inserted here, Looking up to the moon. On the appearance of my edition, and in consequence of my showing that the time was morn, and not even, and that the comfortable beacon here alluded to must be the sun, and not the moon, he alters his reading; adopts with me dawning instead of even, and omits the marginal direction, “Looking up to the moon,” which he had before inserted, acknowledging that both the reading there adopted, and my reasoning, with respect to the time and to the sun, were perfectly right. And after this, he inserts a note, in direct contradiction to his own acknowledgment, in which he endeavours to prove that the word beacon may with more propriety mean the moon than the sun; though, upon the whole, my opinion is (not right; for that would be too much to allow in words, though it is acknowledged in fact but) not indefensible. Of this sort of proceeding, when the true reading is adopted from my edition, and a note inserted in defence of the spurious and rejected one, a hundred instances may be found in Mr. Steevens's editions of 1793 and 1803. Malone.

Note return to page 321 8&lblank; elf all my hair in knots;] Hair thus knotted, was vulgarly supposed to be the work of elves and fairies in the night. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; plats the manes of horses in the night, “And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, “Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 322 9Of Bedlam beggars,] Randle Holme, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon, b. iii. c. 3, has the following passage descriptive of this class of vagabonds: “The Bedlam is in the same garb, with a long staff, and a cow or ox-horn by his side; but his cloathing is more fantastick and ridiculous; for, being a madman, he is madly decked and dressed all over with rubins, feathers, cuttings of cloth, and what not? to make him seem a mad-man, or one distracted, when he is no other than a dissembling knave.” In The Bell-man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640, is another account of one of these characters, under the title of an Abraham-Man: “&lblank; he sweares he hath been in Bedlam, and will talke frantickely of purpose: you see pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, especially in his armes, which paine he gladly puts himselfe to, only to make you believe he is out of his wits. He calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and comming near any body cries out, Poor Tom is a-cold. Of these Abraham-men, some be exceeding merry, and doe nothing but sing songs fashioned out of their own braines: some will dance, others will doe nothing but either laugh or weepe: others are dogged, and so sullen both in loke and speech, that spying but a small company in a house, they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the servants through feare to give them what they demand.” Again, in O per se O, &c. Being an Addition, &c. to the Bellman's Second Night-walke, &c. 1612: “Crackers tyed to a dogges tayle make not the poore curre runne faster, than these Abram ninnies doe the silly villagers of the country, so that when they come to any doore a begging, nothing is denied them.” To sham Abraham, a cant term, still in use among sailors and the vulgar, may have this origin. Steevens. Aubrey, in his MS. Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme, part iii. p. 234, b. (MS. Lansdowne, 226,) says: “Before the civil warrs, I remember Tom-a-Bedlams went about begging. They had been such as had been in Bedlam, and come to some degree of sobernesse, and when they were licensed to goe out they had on their left arme an armilla of tinne printed, of about three inches breadth, which was sodered-on.” H. Ellis.

Note return to page 323 1&lblank; wooden pricks,] i. e. skewers. So, in The Wyll of the Deuill, bl. l. no date: “I give to the butchers, &c. pricks inough to set up their thin meate, that it may appeare thicke and well fedde.” Steevens. Steevens is right: the euonymus, of which the best skewers are made, is called prick-wood. M. Mason.

Note return to page 324 2&lblank; low farms,] The quartos read, low service. Steevens.

Note return to page 325 3Poor pelting villages,] Pelting is used by Shakspeare in the sense of beggarly; I suppose from pelt, a skin. The poor being generally clothed in leather. Warburton. Pelting is, I believe, only an accidental depravation of petty. Shakspeare uses it in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, of small brooks. Johnson. Beaumont and Fletcher often use the word in the same sense as Shakspeare. So, in King and no King, Act IV.: “This pelting, prating peace is good for nothing.” Spanish Curate, Act II. Sc. ult.: “To learn the pelting law.” Shakspeare's Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; every pelting river.” Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. VII.: “And every pelting petty officer.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida, Hector says to Achilles: “We have had pelting wars since you refus'd “The Grecian cause.” From the first of the two last instances it appears not to be a corruption of petty, which is used the next word to it, but seems to be the same as paltry: and if it comes from pelt, a skin, as Dr. Warburton says, the poets have furnished villages, peace, law, rivers, officers of justice, and wars, all out of one wardrobe. Steevens.

Note return to page 326 4&lblank; lunatick bans,] To ban, is to curse. So, in Mother Bombie, 1594, a comedy by Lyly: “Well, be as be may, is no banning.” Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Nay, if those ban, let me breathe curses forth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 327 5&lblank; poor Turlygood! poor Tom!] We should read Turlupin. In the fourteenth century there was a new species of gipsies, called Turlupins, a fraternity of naked beggars, which ran up and down Europe. However, the church of Rome hath dignified them with the name of hereticks, and actually burned some of them at Paris. But what sort of religionists they were, appears from Genebrard's account of them. “Turlupin Cynicorum sectam suscitantes, de nuditate pudendorum, et publico coitu.” Plainly, nothing but a band of Tom-o'-Bedlams. Warburton. Hanmer reads—poor Turluru. It is probable the word Turlygood was the common corrupt pronunciation. Johnson.

Note return to page 328 6&lblank; Edgar I nothing am.] As Edgar I am outlawed, dead in law; I have no longer any political existence. Johnson. The critick's idea is both too complex and too puerile for one in Edgar's situation. He is pursued, it seems, and proclaimed, i. e. a reward has been offered for taking or killing him. In assuming this character, says he, I may preserve myself; as Edgar I am inevitably gone. Ritson. Perhaps the meaning is, ‘As poor Tom, I may exist: appearing as Edgar, I am lost.’ Malone.

Note return to page 329 7Before Gloster's Castle.] It is not very clearly discovered why Lear comes hither. In the foregoing part he sent a letter to Gloster; but no hint is given of its contents. He seems to have gone to visit Gloster while Cornwall and Regan might prepare to entertain him. Johnson. It is plain, I think, that Lear comes to the Earl of Gloster's in consequence of his having been at the Duke of Cornwall's, and having heard there, that his son and daughter were gone to the Earl of Gloster's. His first words show this: “'Tis strange that they (Cornwall and Regan) should so depart from home, and not send back my messenger (Kent).” It is clear also, from Kent's speech in this scene, that he went directly from Lear to the Duke of Cornwall's, and delivered his letters; but, instead of being sent back with any answer, was ordered to follow the Duke and Duchess to the Earl of Gloster's. But what then is the meaning of Lear's order to Kent, in the preceding Act, Scene V.: “Go you before to Gloster with these letters.” The obvious meaning, and what will agree best with the course of the subsequent events, is, that the Duke of Cornwall and his wife were then residing at Gloster. Why Shakspeare should choose to suppose them at Gloster, rather than at any other city, is a different question. Perhaps he might think, that Gloster implied such a neighbourhood to the Earl of Gloster's castle as his story required. Tyrwhitt. See p. 74, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 330 8No, my lord.] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 331 9&lblank; he wears cruel garters!] I believe a quibble was here intended. Crewel signifies worsted, of which stockings, garters, night-caps, &c. are made; and it is used in that sense in Beaumont and Flecher's Scornful Lady, Act II.: “For who that had but half his wits about him “Would commit the counsel of a serious sin “To such a crewel night-cap.” So, again, in the comedy of The Two Angry Women of Abington, printed 1599: “&lblank; I'll warrant you, he'll have “His cruell garters cross about the knee.” So, in The Bird in a Cage, 1633: “I speak the prologue to our silk and cruel “Gentlemen in the hangings.” Again, in Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “Wearing of silk, why art thou still so cruel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 332 1&lblank; over-lusty &lblank;] Over-lusty, in this place, has a double signification. Lustiness anciently meant sauciness. So, in Decker's If this be not a Good Play the Devil is in it, 1612: “&lblank; upon pain of being plagued for their lustyness.” Again, in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “&lblank; she'll snarl and bite, “And take up Nero for his lustiness.” Again, in Sir Thomas North's translation of Plutarch: “Cassius' soldiers did shewe themselves verie stubborne and lustie in the campe,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 333 2&lblank; then he wears wooden nether-stocks.] Nether-stocks is the old word for stockings. Breeches were at that time called “men's overstockes,” as I learn from Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580. It appears from the following passage in the second part of The Map of Mock Beggar Hall, &c. an ancient ballad, that the stockings were formerly sewed to the breeches: “Their fathers went in homely frees,   “And good plain broad-cloth breeches; “Their stockings with the same agrees,   “Sew'd on with good strong stitches.” Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses, has a whole chapter on The Diversitie of Nether-Stockes worne in England, 1595. Heywood, among his Epigrams, 1562, has the following: “Thy upper-stocks, be they stuft with silke or flocks, “Never become thee like a nether paire of stocks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 334 3Lear.] This and the next speech are omitted in the folio.— I have left the rest as I found them, without any attempt at metrical division; being well convinced that, as they are collected from discordant copies, they were not all designed to be preserved, and therefore cannot, in our usual method, be arranged. Steevens.

Note return to page 335 4By Juno, I swear, ay.] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 336 5To do upon respect such violent outrage:] To violate the publick and venerable character of a messenger from the king. Johnson. To do an outrage upon respect, does not, I believe, primarily mean, to behave outrageously to persons of a respectable character, (though that in substance is the sense of the words,) but rather, to be grossly deficient in respect to those who are entitled to it, considering respect as personified. So before in this scene: “You shall do small respect, show too bold malice “Against the grace and person of my master, “Stocking his messengers.” Malone.

Note return to page 337 6Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,] Intermission, for another message, which they had then before them, to consider of; called intermission, because it came between their leisure and the Steward's message. Warburton. “Spite of intermission,” is ‘without pause, without suffering time to intervene.’ So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; gentle heaven, “Cut short all intermission,” &c. Steevens. “Spite of intermission” perhaps means in spite of, or without regarding, that message which intervened, and which was entitled to precedent attention. “Spite of intermission,” however, may mean, in spite of being obliged to pause and take breath, after having panted forth the salutation from his mistress. In Cawdrey's Alphabetical Table of Hard Words, 1604, intermission is defined, “foreslowing, a pawsing or breaking off.” Malone.

Note return to page 338 7They summon'd up their meiny,] Meiny, i. e. people. Pope. Mesne, a house. Mesnie, a family, Fr. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “&lblank; if she, or her sad meiny, “Be towards sleep, I'll wake them.” Again, in the bl. l. romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “Of the emperoure took he leave ywys, “And of all the meiny that was there.” Again: “Here cometh the king of Israel, “With a fayre meinye.” Steevens. So, in Lambard's Archeion, 1635, p. 2: “&lblank; whilest all the world consisted of a few householders, the elder (or father of the family) exercised authoritie over his meyney.” Reed. Though the word meiny be now obsolete, the word menial, which is derived from it, is still in use. “On whose contents,” means ‘the contents of which.’ M. Mason. Menial is by some derived from servants being intra mœnia, or domesticks. An etymology favoured by the Roman termination of the word. Many, in Kent's sense, for train or retinue, was used so late as Dryden's time: “The many rend the skies with loud applause.” Ode on Alexander's Feast. Holt White.

Note return to page 339 8Having more man than wit about me, drew;] The personal pronoun, which is found in a preceding line, is understood before the word having, or before drew. The same licence is taken by our poet in other places. See Act IV. Sc. II.: “&lblank; and amongst them fell'd him dead;” where they is understood. So, in Henry VIII. Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; which if granted, “As he made semblance of his duty, would “Have put his knife into him.” where he is understood before would. See also Hamlet, Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; whereat griev'd,—sends out arrests.”—The modern editors, following Sir Thomas Hanmer, read—I drew. Malone.

Note return to page 340 9Winter's not gone yet, &c.] If this be their behaviour, the king's troubles are not yet at an end. Johnson. This speech is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 341 1&lblank; dolours &lblank;] Quibble intended between dolours and dollars. Hanmer. The same quibble had occurred in The Tempest, and in Measure for Measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 342 2&lblank; for thy daughters,] i. e. on account of thy daughters' ingratitude. In the first part of the sentence dolours is understood in its true sense; in the latter part it is taken for dollars. The modern editors have adopted an alteration made by Mr. Theobald, —from instead of for; and following the second folio, read— thy dear daughters. Malone.

Note return to page 343 3O, how this mother, &c.] Lear here affects to pass off the swelling of his heart ready to burst with grief and indignation, for the disease called the Mother, or Hysterica Passio, which, in our author's time, was not thought peculiar to women only. In Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, Richard Mainy, Gent. one of the pretended demoniacks, deposes, p. 263, that the first night that he came to Denham, the seat of Mr. Peckham, where these impostures were managed, he was somewhat evill at ease, and he grew worse and worse with an old disease that he had, and which the priests persuaded him was from the possession of the devil, viz. “The disease I spake of was a spice of the Mother, wherewith I had bene troubled . . . . before my going into Fraunce: whether I doe rightly term it the Mother or no, I knowe not . . . When I was sicke of this disease in Fraunce, a Scottish doctor of physick then in Paris, called it, as I remember, Virtiginem Capitis. It riseth . . . . of a winde in the bottome of the belly, and proceeding with a great swelling, causeth a very painfull collicke in the stomack, and an extraordinary giddines in the head.” It is at least very probable, that Shakspeare would not have thought of making Lear affect to have the Hysterick Passion, or Mother, if this passage in Harsnet's pamphlet had not suggested it to him, when he was selecting the other particulars from it, in order to furnish out his character of Tom of Bedlam, to whom this demoniacal gibberish is admirably adapted. Percy. In p. 25 of the above pamphlet it is said, “Ma: Maynie had a spice of the Hysterica passio, as seems, from his youth, he himselfe termes it the Moother.” Ritson.

Note return to page 344 4We'll set thee to school to an ant, &c.] “Go to the ant, thou sluggard, (says Solomon,) learn her ways, and be wise; which having no guide, over-seer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.” By this allusion more is meant than is meant than is expressed. If, says the Fool, you had been schooled by the ant, you would have known that the king's train, like that sagacious animal, prefer the summer of prosperity to the colder season of adversity, from which no profit can be derived; and desert him, whose “mellow hangings” have been shaken down, and who by “one winter's brush” has been left “open and bare for every storm that blows.” Malone.

Note return to page 345 5All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking.] The word twenty refers to the noses of the blind men, and not to the men in general. Steevens. Mr. M. Mason supposes we should read sinking. What the Fool, says he, wants to describe is, the sagacity of mankind, in finding out the man whose fortunes are declining. Reed. Stinking is the true reading. See a passage from All's Well that Ends Well, which I had quoted, before I was aware this had likewise been selected by Mr. Malone, for the same purpose of illustration, in the following note. Mr. M. Mason's conjecture, however, may be countenanced by a passage in Antony and Cleopatra: “Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, “And sinks most lamentably.” Steevens. Mankind, says the Fool, may be divided into those who can see and those who are blind. All men, but blind men, though they follow their noses, are led by their eyes; and this class of mankind, seeing the king ruined, have all deserted him: with respect to the other class, the blind, who have nothing but their noses to guide them, they also fly equally from a king whose fortunes are declining; for of the noses of twenty blind men there is not one but can smell him, who “being muddy'd in fortune's mood, smells somewhat strongly of her displeasure.” You need not therefore be surprised at Lear's coming with so small a train. The quartos read—among a hundred. Malone.

Note return to page 346 6When a wise man gives thee, &c.] One cannot too much commend the caution which our moral poet uses, on all occasions, to prevent his sentiment from being perversely taken. So here, having given an ironical precept in commendation of perfidy and base desertion of the unfortunate, for fear it should be understood seriously, though delivered by his buffoon or jester, he has the precaution to add this beautiful corrective, full of fine sense—“I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.” Warburton.

Note return to page 347 7But I will tarry; the fool will stay, And let, &c.] I think this passage erroneous, though both the copies concur. The sense will be mended if we read: “But I will tarry; the fool will stay,   “And let the wise man fly; “The fool turns knave, that runs away;   “The knave no fool &lblank;.” That I stay with the king is a proof that I am a fool; the wise men are deserting him. There is knavery in this desertion, but there is no folly. Johnson.

Note return to page 348 8Mere fetches;] Though this line is now defective, perhaps it originally stood thus: “Mere fetches all &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 349 *Quartos, What fiery quality?

Note return to page 350 9Glo. Well, &c.] This, with the following speech, is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 351 1Are they inform'd of this?] This line is not in the quartos. Malone.

Note return to page 352 2&lblank; Tell the hot duke, that &lblank;] The quartos read—Tell the hot duke, that Lear—. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 3&lblank; This act persuades me,] As the measure is here defective, perhaps our author wrote: “&lblank; This act almost persuades me—.” Steevens.

Note return to page 354 4&lblank; this remotion &lblank;] From their own house to that of the Earl of Gloster. Malone.

Note return to page 355 5Is practice only.] Practice is, in Shakspeare, and other old writers, used commonly in an ill sense for unlawful artifice. Johnson.

Note return to page 356 6Till it cry—Sleep to death.] This, as it stands, appears to be a mere nonsensical rhapsody. Perhaps we should read—Death to sleep, instead of Sleep to death. M. Mason. The meaning of this passage seems to be—I'll beat the drum till it cries out—Let them awake no more;—Let their present sleep be their last. Somewhat similar occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; the death tokens of it. “Cry—No recovery.” The sentiment of Lear does not, therefore, in my opinion, deserve the censure bestowed on it by Mr. M. Mason, but is, to the full, as defensible as many other bursts of dramatick passion. Steevens.

Note return to page 357 7&lblank; the cockney &lblank;] It is not easy to determine the exact power of this term of contempt, which, as the editor of The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer observes, might have been originally borrowed from the kitchen. From the ancient ballad of The Turnament of Tottenham, published by Dr. Percy, in his second volume of Ancient Poetry, p. 24, it should seem to signify a cook: “At that feast were they served in rich array; “Every five and five had a cokeney.” i. e. a cook, or scullion, to attend them. Shakspeare, however, in Twelfth-Night, makes his Clown say— “I am afraid this great lubber the world, will prove a cockney.” In this place it seems to have a signification not unlike that which it bears at present; and, indeed, Chaucer, in his Reve's Tale, ver. 4205, appears to employ it with such a meaning: “And when this jape is tald another day, “I shall be halden a daffe or a cokenay.” Meres, likewise, in the Second Part of his Wit's Commonwealth, 1568, observes, that “many cockney and wanton women are often sick, but in faith they cannot tell where.” Decker, also, in his Newes from Hell, &c. 1606, has the following passage: “'Tis not their fault, but our mother's, our cockering mothers, who for their labour made us to be called cockneys.” See the notes on the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, vol. iv. p. 253, where the reader will meet with more information on this subject. Steevens. Cockenay, as Dr. Percy imagines, cannot be a cook or scullion, but is some dish which I am unable to ascertain. My authority is the following epigram from Davies: “He that comes every day, shall have a cock-nay, “And he that comes but now and then, shall have a fat hen.” Epigram on English Proverbs, 179. Whalley. Mr. Malone expresses his doubt whether cockney means a scullion, &c. in The Turnament of Tottenham; and to the lines already quoted from J. Davies's Scourge of Folly, adds the two next: “But cocks that to hens come but now and then, “Shall have a cock-nay, not the fat hen.” I have been lately informed, by an old lady, that during her childhood, she remembers having eaten a kind of sugar pellets called at that time cockneys. Steevens.

Note return to page 358 8&lblank; the eels, when she put them i' the paste &lblank;] Hinting that the eel and Lear are in the same danger. Johnson. The Fool does not compare Lear himself to the eels, but his rising choler. M. Mason. This reference is not sufficiently explained. The paste, or crust of a pie, in Shakspeare's time, was called a coffin. Henley.

Note return to page 359 9&lblank; she rapp'd 'em &lblank;] So the quartos. The folio reads— she knapt 'em. Malone. Rapp'd must be the true reading, as the only sense of the verb —to knap, is to snap, or break asunder. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 1Sepúlch'ring &lblank;] This word is accented in the same manner by Fairfax and Milton: “As if his work should his sepúlcher be.” C. i. st. 25. “And so sepúlcher'd in such pomp dost lie.” Milton on Shakspeare, line 15. Steevens.

Note return to page 361 2&lblank; she hath tied Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here,] Alluding to the fable of Prometheus. Warburton.

Note return to page 362 3Of how deprav'd a quality &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio reads: “With how deprav'd a quality &lblank;” Johnson.

Note return to page 363 4Than she to scant her duty.] The word scant is directly contrary to the sense intended. The quarto reads: “&lblank; slack her duty.” which is no better. May we not change it thus: “You less know how to value her desert, “Than she to scan her duty.” To scan may be to measure or proportion. Yet our author uses his negatives with such licentiousness, that it is hardly safe to make any alteration. Scant may mean to adapt, to fit, to proportion; which sense seems still to be retained in the mechanical term scantling. Johnson. Sir Thomas Hanmer had proposed this change of scant into scan; but surely no alteration is necessary. The other reading— slack, would answer as well. “You less know how to value her desert, than she (knows) to scant her duty,” i. e. than she can be capable of being wanting in her duty. I have at least given the intended meaning of the passage. Steevens. Shakspeare, without doubt, intended to make Regan say—“I have hope that the fact will rather turn out, that you know not how to appreciate her merit, than that she knows how to scant, or be deficient in, her duty.” But that he has expressed this sentiment inaccurately, will, I think, clearly appear from inverting the sentence, without changing a word. “I have hope (says Regan) that she knows more [or better] how to scant her duty, than you know how to value her desert:” i. e. I have hope, that she is more perfect, more an adept, (if the expression may be allowed,) in the non-performance of her duty, than you are perfect, or accurate, in the estimation of her merit. In The Winter's Tale we meet with an inaccuracy of the same kind: “&lblank; I ne'er heard yet, “That any of these bolder vices wanted “Less impudence to gainsay what they did, “Than to perform it first.” where, as Dr. Johnson has justly observed, “wanted should be had, or less should be more.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality.” Here also less should certainly be more. Again, in Macbeth: “Who cannot want the thought how monstrous “It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain “To kill the gracious Duncan?” Here unquestionably for cannot the poet should have written can. See Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. XII. If Lear is less knowing in the valuation of Goneril's desert, than she is in her scanting of her duty, then she knows better how to scant or be deficient in her duty, than he knows how to appreciate her desert. Will any one maintain, that Regan meant to express a hope that this would prove the case? Shakspeare perplexed himself by placing the word less before know; for if he had written, “I have hope that you rather know how to make her desert less than it is, (to under-rate it in your estimation) than that she at all knows how to scant her duty,” all would have been clear; but, by placing less before know, this meaning is destroyed. Those who imagine that this passage is accurately expressed as it now stands, deceive themselves by this fallacy: in paraphrasing it, they always take the word less out of its place, and connect it, or some other synonymous word, with the word desert. Malone.

Note return to page 364 5Say, &c.] This, as well as the following speech, is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 365 5Say, &c.] This, as well as the following speech, is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 366 6Do you but mark how this becomes the house?] The order of families, duties of relation. Warburton. In The Tempest we have again nearly the same sentiment: “But O how oddly will it sound that I “Must ask my child forgiveness?” Malone. Dr. Warburton's explanation may be supported by the following passage in Milton on Divorce, b. ii. ch. xii.: “&lblank; the restraint whereof, who is not too thick sighted, may see how hurtful, how destructive, it is to the house, the church, and commonwealth!” Tollet. The old reading may likewise receive additional support from the following passage in The Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598: “Come up to supper; it will become the house wonderfull well.” Mr. Tollet has since furnished me with the following extract from Sir Thomas Smith's Commonwealth of England, 4to. 1601, chap. ii. which has much the same expression, and explains it: “They two together [man and wife] ruleth the house. The house I call here, the man, the woman, their children, their servants, bond and free,” &c. Steevens. Again, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure:—“The gentleman's wife one day could not refraine (beholding a stagges head set up in the gentleman's house) from breaking into a laughter before his face, saying how that head became the house very well.” Henderson.

Note return to page 367 7Age is unnecessary:] i. e. Old age has few wants. Johnson. This usage of the word unnecessary is quite without example; and I believe my learned coadjutor has rather improved than explained the meaning of his author, who seems to have designed to say no more than that it seems unnecessary to children that the lives of their parents should be prolonged. “Age is unnecessary,” may mean, old people are useless. So, in The Old Law, by Massinger: “&lblank; your laws extend not to desert, “But to unnecessary years; and, my lord, “His are not such.” Steevens. Unnecessary in Lear's speech, I believe, means—in want of necessaries, unable to procure them. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 368 8Look'd black upon me;] To look black, may easily be explain'd to look cloudy or gloomy. See Milton: “So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell “Grew darker at their frown.” Johnson. So, Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 1157: “&lblank; the bishops thereat repined, and looked black.” Tollet.

Note return to page 369 9To fall and blast her pride!] Thus the quarto: the folio reads not so well, to fall and blister. Johnson. Fall is, I think, used here as an active verb, signifying to humble or pull down. “Ye fen-suck'd fogs, drawn from the earth by the powerful action of the sun, infect her beauty, so as to fall and blast, i. e. humble and destroy her pride.” Shakspeare in other places uses fall in an active sense. So, in Othello: “Each drop she falls will prove a crocodile.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; make him fall “His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.” In the old play of King Leir our poet found— “I ever thought that pride would have a fall.” Malone. I see no occasion for supposing with Malone, that the word fall is to be considered in an active sense, as signifying to humble or pull down; it appears to me to be used in this passage in its common acceptation; and that the plain meaning is this, “You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn up by the sun in order to fall down again and blast her pride.” M. Mason. I once proposed the same explanation to Dr. Johnson, but he would not receive it. Steevens.

Note return to page 370 1&lblank; when the rash mood's on.] Thus the folio. The quartos read only,—“when the rash mood”—perhaps leaving the sentence purposely unfinished, as indeed I should wish it to be left, rather than countenance the admission of a line so inharmonious as that in the text. Steevens. It should be observed that the line objected to for its want of harmony, is rendered inharmonious by an alteration introduced by Mr. Steevens, who reads mood's on, instead of mood is on, as it stands in the folio, and is printed in the text. Boswell.

Note return to page 371 2Thy tender-hefted nature &lblank;] Hefted seems to mean the same as heaved. Tender-hefted, i. e. whose bosom is agitated by tender passions. The formation of such a participle, I believe, cannot be grammatically accounted for. Shakspeare uses hefts for heavings in The Winter's Tale, Act II. Both the quartos however read, “tender-hested nature;” which may mean a nature which is governed by gentle dispositions. Hest is an old word signifying command. So, in The Wars of Cyrus, &c. 1594: “Must yield to hest of others that be free.” Hefted is the reading of the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 372 3Do comfort and not burn:] The same thought, but more expanded, had already occurred in Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel and Stella: “She comes with light and warmth, which like Aurora prove “Of gentle force, so that mine eyes dare gladly play “With such a rosie morne, whose beames, most freshly gay, “Scorch not, but onely doe darke chilling sprites remove.” Steevens. So, in Timon of Athens: “Thou sun that comfort'st burn.” Malone.

Note return to page 373 4&lblank; to scant my sizes,] To contract my allowances or proportions settled. Johnson. A sizer is one of the lowest rank of students at Cambridge, and lives on a stated allowance. Sizes are certain portions of bread, beer, or other victuals, which in publick societies are set down to the account of particular persons: a word still used in colleges. So, in The Return from Parnassus: “You are one of the devil's fellow-commoners; one that sizeth the devil's butteries.” “Fidlers, set it on my head; I use to size my musick, or go on the score for it.” Return from Parnassus. Size sometimes means company. So, in Cinthia's Revenge, 1613: “He now attended with a barbal size “Of sober statesmen,” &c. I suppose a barbal size is a bearded company. Steevens. See a size in Minsheu's Dictionary. Tollet.

Note return to page 374 5Corn. What trumpet's that? Reg. I know't, my sister's:] Thus, in Othello: “The Moor,—I know his trumpet.” It should seem from both these passages, and others that might be quoted, that the approach of great personages was announced by some distinguishing note or tune appropriately used by their own trumpeters. Cornwall knows not the present sound; but to Regan, who had often heard her sister's trumpet, the first flourish of it was as familiar as was that of the Moor to the ears of Iago. Steevens.

Note return to page 375 6If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience if, yourselves are old,] Mr. Upton has proved by irresistible authority, that to allow signifies not only to permit, but to approve, and has deservedly replaced the old reading, which Dr. Warburton had changed into hallow obedience, not recollecting the scripture expression, “The Lord alloweth the righteous,” Psalm xi. ver. 6. So, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “&lblank; she allows of thee for love, not for lust.” Again, in his Farewell to Follie, 1617: “I allow those pleasing poems of Guazzo, which begin,” &c. Again, Sir Thomas North's translation of Plutarch, concerning the reception with which the death of Cæsar met: “they neither greatly reproved, nor allowed the fact.” Dr. Warburton might have found the emendation which he proposed, in Tate's alteration of King Lear, which was first published in 1687. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 7&lblank; if yourselves are old,] Thus Statius, Theb. x. 705: &lblank; hoc, oro, munus concede parenti, Si tua maturis signentur tempora canis, Et sis ipse parens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 377 8&lblank; that indiscretion finds.] Finds is here used in the same sense as when a jury is said to find a bill, to which it is an allusion. Our author again uses the same word in the same sense in Hamlet, Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; Why, 'tis found so.” Edwards. To find is little more than to think. The French use their word trouver in the same sense; and we still say I find time tedious, or I find company troublesome, without thinking on a jury. Steevens.

Note return to page 378 9&lblank; much less advancement.] The word advancement is ironically used for conspicuousness of punishment; as we now say, a man is advanced to the pillory. We should read: “&lblank; but his own disorders “Deserv'd much more advancement.” Johnson. By less advancement is meant, a still worse or more disgraceful situation; a situation not so reputable. Percy. Cornwall certainly means, that Kent's disorders had entitled him even to a post of less honour than the stocks. Steevens.

Note return to page 379 1I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.] The meaning is, since you are weak, be content to think yourself weak. Johnson.

Note return to page 380 2No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o' the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,— Necessity's sharp pinch!] To wage is often used absolutely without the word war after it, and yet signifies to make war as before in this play: “My life I never held but as a pawn “To wage against thine enemies.” The words—“necessity's sharp pinch!” appear to be the reflection of Lear on the wretched sort of existence he had described in the preceding lines. Steevens.

Note return to page 381 3&lblank; base life &lblank;] i. e. In a servile state. Johnson.

Note return to page 382 4&lblank; and sumpter &lblank;] Sumpter is a horse that carries necessaries on a journey, though sometimes used for the case to carry them in.—See Beaumont and Fletcher's Noble Gentleman, Seward's edit. vol. viii. note 35; and Cupid's Revenge: “&lblank; I'll have a horse to leap thee, “And thy base issue shall carry sumpters.” Again, in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “His is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth, “Only for the remove o' the court.” Steevens.

Note return to page 383 5But yet thou art my flesh, &c.] So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh.” Steevens.

Note return to page 384 *Quartos, that lies within my flesh.

Note return to page 385 6&lblank; thou art a boil, &c.] The word in the old copies is written byle, and all the modern editors have too strictly followed them. The mistake arose from the word boil being often pronounced as if written bile. In the folio, we find in Coriolanus the same false spelling as here: “&lblank; Byles [boils] and plagues “Plaster you o'er!” Malone.

Note return to page 386 7A plague-sore,] So, in Thomas Lupton's Fourth Booke of Notable Thinges, bl. l. 4to.: “If you wyll knowe whether one shall escape or not, that is infected with the plague, (having the plague-sore) give the partie, &c. And also anoint the plague-sore,” &c. The plague-sore, we may suppose, was the decisive mark of infection. Steevens.

Note return to page 387 8&lblank; embossed carbuncle,] Embossed is swelling, protuberant. Johnson. So, in Timon of Athens: “Whom once a day with his embossed froth “The turbulent surge shall cover.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 9Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, When others are more wicked;] A similar thought occurs in Cymbeline, Act V.: “&lblank; it is I “That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, “By being worse than they.” Steevens. Again, in Cymbeline: “Then thou look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, “Thy favour's good enough.” Malone. This passage, I think, should be pointed thus: “Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, “When others are more wicked; not being the worst “Stands in some rank of praise &lblank;.” That is, to be not the worst deserves some praise. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 389 1&lblank; patience, patience, I need!] I believe the word patience was repeated inadvertently by the compositor. Malone. The compositor has repeated the wrong word: Read: “You heavens, give me that patience that I need.” Or, still better, perhaps: “You heavens, give me patience!—that I need.” Ritson.

Note return to page 390 2&lblank; poor old man,] The quarto has, “poor old fellow.” Johnson.

Note return to page 391 3&lblank; I will do such things,— What they are, yet I know not;] &lblank; magnum est quodcunque paravi, “Quid sit, adhuc dubito. Ovid. Met. lib. vi. &lblank; haud quid sit scio, Sed grande quiddam est. Senecæ Thyestes. Let such as are unwilling to allow that copiers of nature must occasionally use the same thoughts and expressions, remember, that of both these authors there were early translations. I have since met with an apparent imitation of Seneca, in The Misfortunes of Arthur, a tragedy, 1587: “&lblank; somewhat my minde portendes, “Uncertayne what: but whatsoeuer, it's huge!” Steevens. Evidently from Golding's translation, 1567: “The thing that I do purpose on is great, whatere it is “I know not what it may be yet.” Ritson.

Note return to page 392 *Quartos, flowes.

Note return to page 393 4&lblank; into a hundred thousand flaws,] A flaw signifying a crack or other similar imperfection, our author, with his accustomed licence, uses the word here for a small broken particle. So again, in the fifth Act: “&lblank; But his flaw'd heart “Burst smilingly.” Malone. There is some reason for supposing that flaw might signify a fragment in Shakspeare's time, as well as a mere crack, because among the Saxons it certainly had that meaning, as may be seen in Somner's Diction. Saxon. voce. floh. Douce.

Note return to page 394 5&lblank; hath put himself from rest,] In my former edition I adopted an alteration by Sir Thomas Hanmer: “he hath put himself from rest;” but as the personal pronoun was frequently omitted by the poet and his contemporaries, I have adhered to the reading of all the old copies. Malone.

Note return to page 395 6Corn. Whither is he going? Glo. He calls to horse;] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 396 *First folio, high winds.

Note return to page 397 7Do sorely ruffle;] Thus the folio. The quartos read—Do sorely russel, i. e. rustle. Steevens. Ruffle is certainly the true reading. A ruffler, in our author's time, was a noisy, boisterous swaggerer. Malone.

Note return to page 398 †Quartos, not a bush.

Note return to page 399 8&lblank; incense him to,] To incense is here, as in other places, to instigate. Malone.

Note return to page 400 9&lblank; the fretful element:] i. e. the air. Thus the quartos; for which the editor of the folio substituted elements. Malone.

Note return to page 401 1Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,] The main seems to signify here the main land, the continent. So, in Bacon's War with Spain: “In 1589, we turned challengers, and invaded the main of Spain.” This interpretation sets the two objects of Lear's desire in proper opposition to each other. He wishes for the destruction of the world, either by the winds blowing the land into the waters, or raising the waters so as to overwhelm the land. So, Lucretius, iii. 854: &lblank; terra mari miscebitur, et mare cœlo. See also the Æneid i. 133, and xii. 204. Steevens. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; The bounded waters “Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, “And make a sop of all this solid globe.” The main is again used for the land, in Hamlet: “Goes it against the main of Poland, sir?” Malone.

Note return to page 402 2&lblank; tears his white hair;] The six following verses were omitted in all the late editions; I have replaced them from the first, for they are certainly Shakspeare's. Pope. The first folio ends the speech at change or cease, and begins again at Kent's question, But who is with him? The whole speech is forcible, but too long for the occasion, and properly retrenched. Johnson.

Note return to page 403 3Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.] Thus the old copies. But I suspect we should read out-storm: i. e. as Nestor expresses it in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; with an accent tun'd in self-same key, “Returns to chiding fortune:” i. e. makes a return to it, gives it as good as it brings, confronts it with self-comparisons. Again, in King Lear, Act V.: “Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.” Again, in King John: “Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow, “Of bragging horror.” Again, (and more decisively) in The Lover's Complaint, attributed to our author: “Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.” The same mistake of scorn for storm had also happened in the old copies of Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; as when the sun doth light a scorn,” instead of a—storm. See vol. viii. p. 231. Steevens.

Note return to page 404 4This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,] Cub-drawn has been explained to signify drawn by nature to its young; whereas it means, whose dugs are drawn dry by its young. For no animals leave their dens by night but for prey. So that the meaning is, “that even hunger, and the support of its young, would not force the bear to leave his den in such a night.” Warburton. Shakspeare has the same image in As You Like It: “A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, “Lay couching &lblank;.” Again, ibidem: “Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 405 5And bids what will take all.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus says, “I'll strike, and cry, Take all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 6&lblank; upon the warrant of my art,] Thus the quartos. The folio—“my note.”—“The warrant of my art” seems to mean— on the strength of my skill in physiognomy. Steevens. “&lblank; upon the warrant of my art.” On the strength of that art or skill, which teaches us “to find the mind's construction in the face.” The passage in Macbeth from which I have drawn this paraphrase, in which the word art is again employed in the same sense, confirms the reading of the quartos. The folio reads— upon the warrant of my note: i. e. says Dr. Johnson, “my observation of your character.” Malone.

Note return to page 407 7Who have (as who have not,] The eight subsequent verses were degraded by Mr. Pope, as unintelligible, and to no purpose. For my part, I see nothing in them but what is very easy to be understood; and the lines seem absolutely necessary to clear up the motives upon which France prepared his invasion: nor without them is the sense of the context complete. Theobald. The quartos omit these lines. Steevens.

Note return to page 408 8&lblank; what hath been seen,] What follows, are the circumstances in the state of the kingdom, of which he supposes the spies gave France the intelligence. Steevens.

Note return to page 409 9Either in snuffs and packings &lblank;] Snuffs are dislikes, and packings underhand contrivances. So, in Henry IV. Part I.: “Took it in snuff;” and in King Edward III. 1599: “This packing evil, we both shall tremble for it.” Again, in Stanyhurst's Virgil, 1582: “With two gods packing one woman silly to cozen.” We still talk of packing juries; and Antony says of Cleopatra, that she had “pack'd cards with Cæsar,” Steevens.

Note return to page 410 1&lblank; are but furnishings;] Furnishings are what we now call colours, external pretences. Johnson. A furnish anciently signified a sample. So, in the Preface to Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “To lend the world a furnish of wit, she lays her own to pawn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 411 2But, true it is, &c.] In the old editions are the five following lines which I have inserted in the text, which seem necessary to the plot, as a preparatory to the arrival of the French army with Cordelia in Act IV. How both these, and a whole scene between Kent and this gentleman in the fourth Act, came to be left out in all the later editions, I cannot tell; they depend upon each other, and very much contribute to clear that incident. Pope.

Note return to page 412 3&lblank; from France there comes a power Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already, Wise in our negligence, have secret feet In some of our best ports,] This speech, as it now stands, is collected from two editions: the eight lines, degraded by Mr. Pope, are found in the folio, not in the quarto; the following lines inclosed in crotchets are in the quarto, not in the folio. So that if the speech be read with omission of the former, it will stand according to the first edition; and if the former are read, and the lines that follow them omitted, it will then stand according to the second. The speech is now tedious, because it is formed by a coalition of both. The second edition is generally best, and was probably nearest to Shakspeare's last copy; but in this passage the first is preferable: for in the folio, the messenger is sent, he knows not why, he knows not whither. I suppose Shakspeare thought his plot opened rather too early, and made the alteration to veil the event from the audience; but trusting too much to himself, and full of a single purpose, he did not accommodate his new lines to the rest of the scene. Scattered means divided, unsettled, disunited. Johnson. “&lblank; have secret feet “In some of our best ports.” One of the quartos (for there are two that differ from each other, though printed in the same year, and for the same printer,) reads secret feet. Perhaps the author wrote secret foot, i. e. footing. So, in a following scene: “&lblank; what confederacy have you with the traitors “Late footed in the kingdom?” A phrase, not unlike that in the text, occurs in Chapman's version of the nineteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; what course for home would best prevail “To come in pomp, or beare a secret sail.” Steevens. These lines, as has been observed, are not in the folio. Quartos A and C read—secret feet; quarto B—secret fee. I have adopted the former reading, which I suppose was used in the sense of secret footing, and is strongly confirmed by a passage in this Act: “These injuries the king now bears, will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed: we must incline to the king.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; Why, thou Mars, I'll tell thee, “We have a power on foot.” Malone.

Note return to page 413 4(As fear not but you shall,)] Thus quarto A, and the folio. Quarto B and quarto C, “As doubt not but you shall.” Malone.

Note return to page 414 5&lblank; the king, (in which your pain That way; I'll this;) he that first, &c.] Thus the folio. The late reading: “&lblank; for which you take “That way, I this &lblank;:” was not genuine. The quartos read: “That when we have found the king, “Ile this way, you that, he that first lights “On him, hollow the other.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 6Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks!] Thus the quartos. The folio has—winds. The poet, as Mr. M. Mason has observed in a note on The Tempest, was here thinking of the common representation of the winds, which he might have found in many books of his own time. So again, as the same gentleman has observed, in Troilus and Cressida: “Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek “Outswell the cholick of puff'd Aquilon.” We find the same allusion in Kempe's Nine Daies Wonder, &c. quarto 1600: “&lblank; he swells presently, like one of the four winds.” Malone.

Note return to page 416 7&lblank; thought-executing &lblank;] Doing execution with rapidity equal to thought. Johnson.

Note return to page 417 8Vaunt-couriers &lblank;] Avant couriers, Fr. This phrase is not unfamiliar to other writers of Shakspeare's time. It originally meant the foremost scouts of an army. So, in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “&lblank; as soon as the first vancurrer encountered him face to face.” Again, in The Tragedy of Mariam, 1613: “Might to my death, but the vaunt-currier prove.” Again, in Darius, 1603: “Th' avant-corours, that came for to examine.” Steevens. In The Tempest “Jove's lightnings” are termed more familiarly— “&lblank; the precursors “O' the dreadful thunder-claps &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 418 9Strike flat, &c.] The quarto reads,—Smite flat. Steevens.

Note return to page 419 1Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,] Crack nature's mould, and spill all the seeds of matter, that are hoarded within it. Our author not only uses the same thought again, but the word that ascertains my explication, in The Winter's Tale: “Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together, “And mar the seeds within.” Theobald. So, again in Macbeth: “&lblank; and the sum “Of nature's germens tumble altogether.” Steevens. “&lblank; spill at once.” To spill is to destroy. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. iv. fol. 67: “So as I shall myself spill.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 2&lblank; court holy-water &lblank;] Ray, among his proverbial phrases, p. 184, mentions court holy-water to mean fair words. The French have the same phrase. Eaû benite de cour; fair empty words.—Chambaud's Dictionary. The same phrase also occurs in Churchyard's Charitie, 1595: “The great good turnes in court that thousands felt, “Is turn'd to cleer faire holie water there,” &c. Steevens. Cotgrave in his Dict. 1611, defines Eau benite de cour, “court holie water; compliments, faire words, flattering speeches,” &c. See also Florio's Italian Dict. 1598: “Mantellizare, To flatter, to claw,—to give one court holie-water.” Malone.

Note return to page 421 *Quartos, taske.

Note return to page 422 3You owe me no subscription;] Subscription, for obedience. Warburton. See p. 34. Malone. So, in Rowley's Search for Money, 1609, p. 17: “I tell yee besides this he is an obstinat wilfull fellow, for since this idolatrous adoration given to him here by men, he has kept the scepter in his own hand and commands every man: which rebellious man now seeing (or rather indeed too obedient to him) inclines to all his hests, yields no subscription, nor will he be commanded by any other power,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 423 †First folio, That will wish two pernicious daughters join.

Note return to page 424 ‡Quartos, battell.

Note return to page 425 4&lblank; 'tis foul!] Shameful; dishonourable.

Note return to page 426 5So beggars marry many.] i. e. A beggar marries a wife and lice. Johnson. Rather, “So many beggars marry;” meaning, that they marry in the manner he has described, before they have houses to put their heads in. M. Mason.

Note return to page 427 6&lblank; cry woe,] i. e. be grieved, or pained. So, in King Richard III.: “You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter.” Malone.

Note return to page 428 7No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I will say nothing.] So Perillus, in the old anonymous play, speaking of Leir: “But he, the myrrour of mild patience, “Puts up all wrongs, and never gives reply.” Steevens.

Note return to page 429 8&lblank; grace, and a cod-piece; that's a wise man and a fool.] In Shakspeare's time, “the king's grace” was the usual expression. In the latter phrase, the speaker perhaps alludes to an old notion concerning fools, mentioned in King Henry VIII. Malone. Alluding perhaps to the saying of a contemporary wit; that there is no discretion below the girdle. Steevens.

Note return to page 430 9&lblank; are you here?] The quartos read—sit you here? Steevens.

Note return to page 431 1Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,] So, in Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; 'stonish'd as night-wanderers are.” Malone. Gallow, a west-country word, signifies to scare or frighten. Warburton. So, the Somersetshire proverb: “The dunder do gally the beans.” Beans are vulgarly supposed to shoot up faster after thunder-storms. Steevens.

Note return to page 432 2&lblank; fear.] So the folio: the latter editions read, with the quarto, force for fear, less elegantly. Johnson.

Note return to page 433 3&lblank; keep this dreadful pother &lblank;] Thus one of the quartos and the folio. The other quarto reads thund'ring. The reading of the text, however, is an expression common to others. So, in The Scornful Lady of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; faln out with their meat, and kept a pudder.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 *First folio omits man.

Note return to page 435 4That under covert and convenient seeming &lblank;] Convenient needs not be understood in any other than its usual and proper sense; accommodate to the present purpose; suitable to a design. Convenient seeming is appearance such as may promote his purpose to destroy. Johnson.

Note return to page 436 5&lblank; concealing continents,] Continent stands for that which contains or incloses. Johnson. Thus in Antony and Cleopatra: “Heart, once be stronger than thy continent!” Again, in Chapman's translation of the twelfth book of Homer's Odyssey: “I told our pilot that past other men “He most must bear firm spirits, since he sway'd “The continent that all our spirits convey'd,” &c. The quartos read, concealed centers. Steevens.

Note return to page 437 6&lblank; and cry These dreadful summoners grace.] Summoners are here the officers that summon offenders before a proper tribunal. See Chaucer's Sompnour's Tale, v. 625–670. Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. vol. i. Steevens. I find the same expression in a treatise published long before this play was written: “&lblank; they seem to brag most of the strange events which follow for the most part after blazing starres, as if they were the summoners of God to call princes to the seat of judgment.” Defensative Against the Poison of Supposed Prophecies, 1581. Malone.

Note return to page 438 7I am a man,] Oedipus, in Sophocles, represents himself in the same light. Oedip. Colon. v. 270. &lblank; &grt;&gra; &grg;&grap; &gre;&grr;&grg;&graa; &grm;&gro;&gru; &grP;&gre;&grp;&gro;&grn;&grq;&groa;&grt;&grap; &gre;&grs;&grt;&gria; &grm;&grac;&grl;&grl;&gro;&grn; &grhsg; &grd;&gre;&grd;&grr;&gra;&grk;&groa;&grt;&gra;. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 439 8Alack, bare-headed!] Kent's faithful attendance on the old king, as well as that of Perillus, in the old play which preceded Shakspeare's, is founded on an historical fact. Lear, says Geoffrey of Monmouth, “when he betook himself to his youngest daughter in Gaul, waited before the city where she resided, while he sent a messenger to inform her of the misery he was fallen into, and to desire her relief to a father that suffered both hunger and nakedness. Cordeilla was startled at the news, and wept bitterly, and with tears asked him, how many men her father had with him. The messenger answered he had none but one man, who had been his armour-bearer, and was staying with him without the town.” Malone.

Note return to page 440 *First folio, More harder than the stones.

Note return to page 441 9&lblank; one part in my heart &lblank;] Some editions read: “&lblank; thing in my heart &lblank;.” from which Hanmer, and Dr. Warburton after him, have made string, very unnecessarily; but the copies have part. Johnson.

Note return to page 442 1That's sorry yet, &c.] The old quartos read: “That sorrows yet for thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 443 2&lblank; a little tiny wit, &lblank; With heigh, ho, &c.] See song at the end of Twelfth Night. Steevens.

Note return to page 444 3This is a brave night, &c.] This speech is not in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 445 4When nobles are their tailors' tutors;] i. e. invent fashions for them. Warburton.

Note return to page 446 5No hereticks burn'd, but wenches' suitors:] The disease to which wenches' suitors are particularly exposed, was called, in Shakspeare's time, the brenning or burning. Johnson. So, in Isaiah, iii. 24: “&lblank; and burning instead of beauty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 447 6Then shall the realm of Albion Come to great confusion.] These lines are taken from Chaucer. Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589, quotes them as follows: “When faith fails in priestes saws, “And lords hests are holden for laws, “And robbery is tane for purchase, “And letchery for solace, “Then shall the realm of Albion “Be brought to great confusion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 448 7Then comes the time, &c.] This couplet Dr. Warburton transposed, and placed after the fourth line of this prophecy. The four lines, “When priests,” &c. according to his notion, are “a satirical description of the present manners, as future;” and the six lines from “When every case”—to “churches build,” “a satirical description of future manners, which the corruption of the present would prevent from ever happening.” His conception of the first four lines is, I think, just; but, instead of his far-fetched conceit relative to the other six lines, I should rather call them an ironical, as the preceding are a satirical, description of the time in which our poet lived. The transposition recommended by this critick, and adopted in the late editions, is, in my opinion, as unnecessary as it is unwarrantable. Malone.

Note return to page 449 *Quartos, landed.

Note return to page 450 8Wilt break my heart?] I believe that Lear does not address this question to Kent, but to his own bosom. Perhaps, therefore, we should point the passage thus: “Wilt break, my heart?” The tenderness of Kent indeed induces him to reply, as to an interrogation that seemed to reflect on his own humanity. Steevens.

Note return to page 451 *Quartos, crulentious.

Note return to page 452 9But where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt.] That of two concomitant pains, the greater obscures or relieves the less, is an aphorism of Hippocrates. See Disquisitions, Metaphysical and Literary, by F. Sayers, M. D. 1793, p. 68. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. vi.: “He lesser pangs can bear who hath endur'd the chief.” Steevens.

Note return to page 453 1&lblank; raging sea,] Such is the reading of that which appears to be the elder of the two quartos. The other, with the folio, reads,—roaring sea. Steevens. Quartos A and B read raging; quarto C, roring. Boswell.

Note return to page 454 2&lblank; In such a night To shut me out!—Pour on; I will endure:] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 455 3Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all,] I have already observed that the words, father, brother, rather, and many of a similar sound, were sometimes used by Shakspeare as monosyllables. The editor of the folio, supposing the metre to be defective, omitted the word you, which is found in the quartos. Malone. That our author's versification, to modern ears, (I mean to such as have been tuned by the melody of an exact writer like Mr. Pope) may occasionally appear overloaded with syllables, I cannot deny; but when I am told that he used the words—father, brother, and rather, as monosyllables, I must withhold my assent in the most decided manner. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification for a full answer to Mr. Steevens's objections to Mr. Malone's notion on this subject. Boswell.

Note return to page 456 4In, boy; go first, &c.] These two lines were added in the author's revision, and are only in the folio. They are very judiciously intended to represent that humility, or tenderness, or neglect of forms, which affliction forces on the mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 457 *Quartos, night.

Note return to page 458 5&lblank; loop'd and window'd raggedness,] So, in The Amorous War, 1648: “&lblank; spare me a doublet which “Hath linings in't, and no glass windows.” This allusion is as old as the time of Plautus, in one of whose plays it is found. Again, in the comedy already quoted: “&lblank; this jerkin “Is wholly made of doors.” Steevens. Loop'd is full of small apertures, such as were made in ancient castles, for firing ordnance, or spying the enemy. These were wider without than within, and were called loops or loop-holes: which Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders by the word fenestella. Malone. Loops, as Mr. Henley observes, particularly in castles and towers, were often designed “for the admission of light, where windows would have been incommodious.” Shakspeare, he adds, “in Othello, and other places, has alluded to them.” To discharge ordnance, however, from loop-holes, according to Mr. Malone's supposition, was, I believe, never attempted, because almost impossible; although such outlets were sufficiently adapted to the use of arrows. Many also of these loops, still existing, were contrived before fire arms had been introduced. Steevens. Mr. Warton, in his excellent edition of Milton's Juvenile Poems, (p. 511,) quotes the foregoing line as explanatory of a passage in that poet's verses In Quintum Novembris: Tarda fenestratis figens vestigia calceis. Talis, uti fama est, vasta Franciscus eremo Tetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum—.” But, from the succeeding, in Buchanan's Franciscanus et Fratres, these shoes or buskins with windows on them appear to have composed a part of the habit of the Franciscan order: Atque fenestratum soleas captare cothurnum. The Parish Clerk, in Chaucer, (Canterbury Tales, v. 3318, edit. 1775,) has “Poulis windows corven on his shoos.” Holt White.

Note return to page 459 6&lblank; Take physick, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel; That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.] A kindred thought occurs in Pericles, Prince of Tyre: “O let those cities that of plenty's cup “And her prosperities so largely taste, “With their superfluous riots,—hear these tears; “The misery of Tharsus may be theirs.” Malone.

Note return to page 460 7Fathom, &c.] This speech of Edgar is omitted in the quartos. He gives the sign used by those who are sounding the depth at sea. Steevens.

Note return to page 461 *First folio, blow the winds.

Note return to page 462 8Humph! go to thy cold bed, &c.] So, in the introduction to The Taming of the Shrew, Sly says, “go to thy cold bed and warm thee.” A ridicule, I suppose, on some passage in a play as absurd as The Spanish Tragedy. Steevens. This line is a sneer on the following one spoken by Hieronimo in The Spanish Tragedy, Act II.: “What outcries pluck me from my naked bed.” Whalley. “Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.” Thus the quartos. The editor of the folio 1623, I suppose, thinking the passage nonsense, omitted the word cold. This is not the only instance of unwarrantable alterations made even in that valuable copy. That the quartos are right, appears from the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, where the same words occur. See vol. v. p. 359. Malone.

Note return to page 463 9Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?] Thus the quartos. The folio reads, “Didst thou give all to thy two daughters?” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 *Quarto omits through flame.

Note return to page 465 1&lblank; led through fire and through flame,] Alluding to the ignis fatuus, supposed to be lights kindled by mischievous beings to lead travellers into destruction. Johnson.

Note return to page 466 2&lblank; laid knives under his pillow,] He recounts the temptations by which he was prompted to suicide; the opportunities of destroying himself, which often occurred to him in his melancholy moods. Johnson. Shakspeare found this charge against the fiend, with many others of the same nature, in Harsnet's Declaration, and has used the very words of it. The book was printed in 1603. See Dr. Warburton's note, Act IV. Sc. I. Infernal spirits are always represented as urging the wretched to self-destruction. So, in Dr. Faustus, 1604: “Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel, “Are laid before me to dispatch myself.” Steevens. The passage in Harsenet's book which Shakspeare had in view, is this: “This Examt. further sayth, that one Alexander, an apothecarie, having brought with him from London to Denham on a time a new halter, and two blades of knives, did leave the same upon the gallerie floore, in her maisters house.—A great search was made in the house to know how the said halter and knife-blades came thither,—till Ma. Mainy in his next fit said, it was reported that the devil layd them in the gallerie, that some of those that were possessed, might either hang themselves with the halter, or kill themselves with the blades.” The kind of temptation which the fiend is described as holding out to the unfortunate, might also have been suggested by the story of Cordila, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1575, where Despaire visits her in prison, and shows her various instruments by which she may rid herself of life: “And there withall she spred her garments lap assyde, “Under the which a thousand things I sawe with eyes; “Both knives, sharpe swords, poynadoes all bedyde “With bloud, and poysons prest, which she could well devise.” Malone.

Note return to page 467 3&lblank; Bless thy five wits!] So the five senses were called by our old writers. Thus in the very ancient interlude of The Five Elements, one of the characters is Sensual Appetite, who with great simplicity thus introduces himself to the audience: “I am callyd sensual apetyte, “All creatures in me delyte,   “I comforte the wyttys five; “The tastyng smelling and herynge “I refreshe the syghte and felynge   “To all creaturs alyve.” Sig. B. iij. Percy. So again, in Every Man, a Morality: “Every man, thou art made, thou hast thy wyttes five.” Again, in Hycke Scorner: “I have spent amys my v wittes.” Again, in The Interlude of the Four Elements, by John Rastell, 1519: “Brute bestis have memory and their wyttes five.” Again, in the first book of Gower, De Confessione Amantis: “As touchende of my wittes five.” Steevens. Shakspeare, however, in his 141st Sonnet, seems to have considered the five wits, as distinct from the senses: “But my five wits, nor my five senses can “Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee.” Malone. See Much Ado About Nothing, vol. vii. p. 11, n. 6. Boswell.

Note return to page 468 4&lblank; taking?] To take is to blast, or strike with malignant influence: “&lblank; strike her young bones, “Ye taking airs, with lameness!” Johnson.

Note return to page 469 5Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults,] So, in Timon of Athens: “Be as a planetary plague, when Jove “Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison “In the sick air.” Boswell.

Note return to page 470 6&lblank; pelican daughters.] The young pelican is fabled to suck the mother's blood. Johnson. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1630, second part: “Shall a silly bird pick her own breast to nourish her young ones? the pelican does it, and shall not I?” Again, in Love in a Maze, 1632: “The pelican loves not her young so well “That digs upon her breast a hundred springs.” Steevens.

Note return to page 471 6Pillicock sat, &c.] I once thought this a word of Shakspeare's formation; but the reader may find it explained in Minsheu's Dict. p. 365, Article 3299–2.—Killico is one of the devils mentioned in Harsenet's Declaration. The folio reads—Pillicock-hill. I have followed the quartos. Malone. The inquisitive reader may also find an explanation of this word in a note annexed to Sir Thomas Urquart's translation of Rabelais, vol. i. b. i. ch. ii. p. 184, edit. 1750. Steevens.

Note return to page 472 7&lblank; keep thy word justly;] Both the quartos, and the folio, have words. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 473 8&lblank; commit not, &c.] The word commit is used in this sense by Middleton, in Women beware Women: “His weight is deadly who commits with strumpets.” Steevens.

Note return to page 474 9&lblank; proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair, &c.] “Then Ma. Mainy, by the instigation of the first of the seaven [spirits], began to set his hands unto his side, curled his hair, and used such gestures, as Ma. Edmunds [the exorcist] presently affirmed that that spirit was Pride. Herewith he began to curse and banne, saying, What a poxe do I here? I will stay no longer among a company of rascal priests, but go to the court, and brave it amongst my fellows, the noblemen there assembled.” Harsnet's Declaration, &c. 1603. “&lblank; shortly after they [the seven spirits] were all cast forth, and in such manner as Ma. Edmunds directed them, which was, that every devil should depart in some certaine forme representing either a beast or some other creature, that had the resemblance of that sinne whereof he was the chief author: whereupon the spirit of pride departed in the forme of a peacock; the spirit of sloth in the likeness of an asse; the spirit of envie in the similitude of a dog; the spirit of gluttony in the form of a wolfe; and the other devils had also in their departure their particular likenesses agreeable to their natures.” Malone.

Note return to page 475 1&lblank; wore gloves in my cap.] i. e. His mistress's favours: which was the fashion of that time. So, in the play called Campaspe: “Thy men turned to women, thy soldiers to lovers, gloves worn in velvet caps, instead of plumes in graven helmets.” Warburton. It was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the hat on three distinct occasions, viz. as the favour of a mistress, the memorial of a friend, and as a mark to be challenged by an enemy. Prince Henry boasts that he will pluck a glove from the commonest creature, and fix it in his helmet; and Tucca says to Sir Quintilian, in Decker's Satiromastix: “&lblank; Thou shalt wear her glove in thy worshipful hat, like to a leather brooch:” and Pandora in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597: “&lblank; he that first presents me with his head, “Shall wear my glove in favour of the deed.” Portia, in her assumed character, asks Bassanio for his gloves, which she says she will wear for his sake: and King Henry V. gives the pretended glove of Alençon to Fluellen, which afterwards occasions his quarrel with the English soldier. Steevens.

Note return to page 476 2&lblank; light of ear,] Credulous of evil, ready to receive malicious reports. Johnson.

Note return to page 477 3&lblank; Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, &c.] The Jesuits pretended to cast the seven deadly sins out of Mainy in the shape of those animals that represented them; and before each was cast out, Mainy by gestures acted that particular sin; curling his hair to show pride, vomiting for gluttony, gaping and snoring for sloth, &c.—Harsnet's Book, pp. 279, 280, &c. To this probably our author alludes. Steevens.

Note return to page 478 4&lblank; thy hand out of plackets,] It appeareth from the following passage in Any Thing for a Quiet Life, a silly comedy, that placket doth not signify the petticoat in general, but only the aperture therein: “&lblank; between which is discovered the open part which is now called the placket.” Bayley in his Dictionary, giveth the same account of the word. Yet peradventure, our poet hath some deeper meaning in The Winter's Tale, where Autolycus saith—“you might have pinched a placket, it was senseless:”—and, now I bethink me, sir Thomas Urquart, knight, in his translation of that wicked varlet Rabelais, styleth the instrument wherewith Garagantua played at carnal tennis, his “placket-racket.” See that work, vol. i. p. 184, edit. 1750. Impartiality nevertheless compelleth me to observe, that Master Coles in his Dictionary hath rendered placket by sinus muliebris: and a pleasant commentator who signeth himself T. C. hath also produced instances in favour of that signification; for, saith he, —but hear we his own words: “Peradventure a placket signified neither a petticoat nor any part of one; but a stomacher.” See the word Torace in Florio's Italian Dict. 1598. “The brest or bulke of a man.—Also a placket or stomacher.”—The word seems to be used in the same sense in The Wandering Whores, &c. a comedy, 1663: “If I meet a cull in Morefields, I can give him leave to dive in my placket.” So that, after all, this matter is enwrapped in much and painful uncertainty. Amner.

Note return to page 479 5&lblank;thy pen from lenders' books,] So, in All Fools, a comedy, by Chapman, 1605: “If I but write my name in mercers' books, “I am as sure to have at six months end “A rascal at my elbow with his mace,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 480 6Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa; let him trot by.] The quartos read—“the cold wind; hay, no on ny, Dolphin my boy, my boy, cease, let him trot by.” The folio—“the cold wind: sayes suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my boy, boy Sessey, let him trot by.” The text is formed from the two copies. I have printed Sessa, instead of Sessey, because the same cant word occurs in the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew: “Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide: Sessa.” Malone. “Hey no nonny” is the burthen of a ballad in The Two Noble Kinsmen, (said to be written by Shakspeare, in conjunction with Fletcher,) and was probably common to many others. The folio introduces it into one of Ophelia's song's. “Dolphin, my boy, my boy,   “Cease, let him trot by; “It seemeth not that such a foe   “From me or you would fly.” This is a stanza from a very old ballad written on some battle fought in France, during which the King, unwilling to put the suspected valour of his son the Dauphin, i. e. Dolphin, (so called and spelt at those times,) to the trial, is represented as desirous to restrain him from any attempt to establish an opinion of his courage on an adversary who wears the least appearance of strength; and at last assists in propping up a dead body against a tree for him to try his manhood upon. Therefore, as different champions are supposed to cross the field, the King always discovers some objection to his attacking each of them, and repeats these two lines as every fresh personage is introduced: “Dolphin, my boy, my boy,” &c. The song I have never seen, but had this account from an old gentleman, who was only able to repeat part of it, and died before I could have supposed the discovery would have been of the least importance to me.—As for the words, says suum, mun, they are only to be found in the first folio, and were probably added by the players, who, together with the compositors, were likely enough to corrupt what they did not understand, or to add more of their own to what they already concluded to be nonsense. Steevens. Coke cries out, in Bartholomew Fair: “God's my life!—He shall be Dauphin my boy!” Farmer. It is observable that the two songs to which Mr. Steevens refers for the burden of “Hey no nonny,” are both sung by girls distracted from disappointed love. The meaning of the burden may be inferred from what follows.—Drayton's Shepherd's Garland, 1593, 4to.: “Who ever heard thy pipe and pleasing vaine, “And doth but heare this scurrill minstralcy, “These noninos of filthie ribauldry, “That doth not muse.” Again, in White's Wit of a Woman: “&lblank; these dauncers sometimes do teach them trickes above trenchmore, yea and sometimes such lavoltas, that they mount so high, that you may see their hey nony, nony, nony, no.” Henley. “Hey nonny, nonny,” although sometimes used by those who thought an indecent meaning might not be so offensive, when nonsensically expressed, was nothing more than a common burthen of a song, like fal lal or derry down. Amiens, in As You Like It, was certainly not a girl distracted from disappointed love, and he employs it without any such meaning as is here ascribed to it. Boswell.

Note return to page 481 7&lblank; Come; unbutton here.] Thus the folio. One of the quartos reads—Come on, be true. Steevens. Quartos A and B read so; quarto C, come on. Boswell.

Note return to page 482 8&lblank; a naughty night to swim in.] So, Tusser, chap. xlii. fol. 93: “Ground grauellie, sandie, and mixed with claie, “Is naughtie for hops anie manner of waie.” Naughty signifies bad, unfit, improper. This epithet which, as it stands here, excites a smile, in the age of Shakspeare was employed on serious occasions. The merriment of the Fool, therefore, depended on his general image, and not on the quaintness of its auxiliary. Steevens.

Note return to page 483 9&lblank; an old lecher's heart;] This image appears to have been imitated by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Humorous Lieutenant: “&lblank; an old man's loose desire “Is like the glow-worm's light the apes so wonder'd at; “Which when they gather'd sticks, and laid upon't, “And blew and blew, turn'd tail, and went out presently.” Steevens.

Note return to page 484 1&lblank; Flibbertigibbet:] We are not much acquainted with this fiend. Latimer, in his Sermons, mentions him; and Heywood, among his sixte hundred of Epigrams, edit. 1576, has the following, Of calling one Flebergibet: “Thou Flebergibet, Flebergibet, thou wretch! “Wottest thou whereto last part of that word doth stretch? “Leave that word, or I'le baste thee with a libet: “Of all woords I hate woords that end with gibet.” Steevens. “Frateretto, Fliberdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, were four devils of the round or morrice. . . . . These four had forty assistants under them, as themselves doe confesse.” Harsnet, p. 49. Percy.

Note return to page 485 2&lblank; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock;] It is an old tradition that spirits were relieved from the confinement in which they were held during the day, at the time of curfew, that is, at the close of day, and were permitted to wander at large till the first cock-crowing. Hence, in The Tempest, they are said to “rejoice to hear the solemn curfew.” See Hamlet, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; and at his [the cock's] warning, “Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, “The extravagant and erring spirit hies “To his confine.” Again, Sc. V.: “I am thy father's spirit, “Doom'd for a certain time to walk the night, “And for the day confin'd to fast in fires—.” Malone. See Tempest, Act I. Sc. II. [note on “shall for that vast of night that they may work.”] Steevens.

Note return to page 486 3&lblank; web and the pin,] Diseases of the eye. Johnson. So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609. One of the characters is giving a ludicrous description of a lady's face, and when he comes to her eyes he says, “a pin and web argent, in hair du roy.” Steevens. The pin and web was a cataract. See Florio's Dict. voce Cataratta. Malone. The Lapland method of cure for “a disease of the eyes called the pin and web, which is an imperfect stage of a cataract, is given by Acerbi in his Travels, vol. ii. p. 290. Blakeway.

Note return to page 487 4Saint Withold footed thrice the wold; He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; Bid her alight, And her troth plight, And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!] We should read it thus: “Saint Withold footed thrice the wold, “He met the night-mare, and her name told, “Bid her alight, and her troth plight, “And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee right.” i. e. Saint Withold traversing the wold or downs, met the night-mare; who having told her name, he obliged her to alight from those persons whom she rides, and plight her troth to do no more mischief. This is taken from a story of him in his legend. Hence he was invoked as the patron saint against that distemper. And these verses were no other than a popular charm, or night-spell against the Epialtes. The last line is the formal execration or apostrophe of the speaker of the charm to the witch, aroynt thee right, i. e. depart forthwith. Bedlams, gipsies, and such like vagabonds, used to sell these kinds of spells or charms to the people. They were of various kinds for various disorders, and addressed to various saints. We have another of them in the Monsieur Thomas of Fletcher, which he expressly calls a night-spell, and is in these words: “Saint George, Saint George, our lady's knight, “He walks by day, so he does by night; “And when he had her found, “He her beat and her bound; “Until to him her troth she plight, “She would not stir from him that night.” Warburton. This is likewise one of the “magical cures” for the incubus, quoted, with little variation, by Reginald Scott in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584. Steevens. In the old quarto the corruption is such as may deserve to be noted. “Swithald footed thrice the olde anelthu night moore and her nine fold bid her, O light and her troth plight and arint thee, with arint thee.” Johnson. Her nine fold seems to be put (for the sake of the rhyme) instead of her nine foals. I cannot find this adventure in the common legends of St. Vitalis, who, I suppose, is here called St. Withold. Tyrwhitt. Shakspeare might have met with St. Withold in the old spurious play of King John, where this saint is invoked by a Franciscan friar. The wold I suppose to be the true reading. So, in The Coventry Collection of Mysteries, Mus. Brit. Vesp. D. viii. p. 23, Herod says to one of his officers: “Seyward bolde, walke thou on wolde, “And wysely behold all abowte,” &c. Dr. Hill's reading, the cold, (mentioned in the next note,) is the reading of Mr. Tate in his alteration of this play in 1681. Lest the reader should suppose the compound—night-mare, has any reference to horse-flesh, it may be observed that mara, Saxon, signifies an incubus. See Keysler, Antiquitat. sel. Septentrion. p. 497, edit. 1720. Steevens. It is pleasant to see the various readings of this passage. In a book called the Actor, which has been ascribed to Dr. Hill, it is quoted “Swithin footed thrice the cold.” Mr. Colman has it in his alteration of Lear— “Swithin footed thrice the world.” The ancient reading is the olds: which is pompously corrected by Mr. Theobald, with the help of his friend Mr. Bishop, to the wolds: in fact it is the same word. Spelman writes, Burton upon olds: the provincial pronunciation is still the oles: and that probably was the vulgar orthography. Let us read then, “St. Withold footed thrice the oles, He met the night-mare, and her nine foles, &c. Farmer I was surprised to see in the Appendix to the last edition of Shakspeare, [i. e. that of 1773] that my reading of this passage was “Swithin footed thrice the world.” I have ever been averse to capricious variations of the old text; and, in the present instance, the rhyme, as well as the sense, would have induced me to abide by it. World was merely an error of the press. Wold is a word still in use in the North of England; signifying a kind of down near the sea. A large tract of country in the East-Riding of Yorkshire is called the Woulds. Colman. Both the quartos and the folio have old, not olds. Old was merely the word wold misspelled, from following the sound. There are a hundred instances of the same kind in the old copies of these plays. For what purpose the Incubus is enjoined to plight her troth, will appear from a passage in Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, which Shakspeare appears to have had in view: “&lblank; howbeit, there are magical cures for it, [the night-mare or incubus,] as for example: “S. George, S. George, our ladies knight, “He walk'd by daie, so did he by night, “Until such time as he hir found: “He hir beat and he hir bound, “Until hir troth she to him plight “She would not come to hir [r. him] that night.” Her nine fold are her nine familiars. Aroint thee! [Dii te averruncent!] is explained in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. III. Saint Withold is introduced in the old play of King John: “Sweet St. Withold of thy lenitie, “Defend us from extremitie.” Malone.

Note return to page 488 5&lblank; the wall-newt, and the water;] i. e. the water-newt. This was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. “He was a wise man and a merry,” was the common language. So Falstaff says to Shallow, “he is your serving-man, and your husband,” i. e. husband-man, Rowe repeated the word newt. Malone.

Note return to page 489 6&lblank; whipped from tything to tything,] A tything is a division of a place, a district; the same in the country, as a ward in the city. In the Saxon times every hundred was divided into tythings. Edgar alludes to the acts of Queen Elizabeth and James I. against rogues, vagabonds, &c. In the Stat. 39 Eliz. ch. 4, it is enacted, that every vagabond, &c. shall be publickly whipped and sent from parish to parish. Steevens.

Note return to page 490 7&lblank; and stocked, punished, and imprisoned;] So the folio. The quartos read, perhaps rightly—“and stock-punished, and imprisoned.” Malone.

Note return to page 491 8But mice, and rats, and such small deer, Have been Tom's food for seven long year.] This distich is part of a description given in the old metrical romance of Sir Bevis, of the hardships suffered by Bevis, when confined for seven years in a dungeon: “Rattes and myce and such smal dere “Was his meate that seven yere.” Sig. F. iij. Percy. Dere was used for animals in general. So Barclay in his Eclogues, 1570: “&lblank; Everie sorte of dere “Shrunk under shadowes abating all their chere.” Malone.

Note return to page 492 9&lblank; Peace, Smolkin; peace,] “The names of other punie spirits cast out of Trayford were these: Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio,” &c. Harsnet, p. 49. Percy.

Note return to page 493 1The prince of darkness is a gentleman;] This is spoken in resentment of what Gloster had just said—“Has your grace no better company?” Steevens.

Note return to page 494 2The prince of darkness is a gentleman; Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.] So, in Harsnet's Declaration, Maho was the chief devil that had possession of Sarah Williams; but another of the possessed, named Richard Mainy, was molested by a still more considerable fiend called Modu. See the book already mentioned, p. 268, where the said Richard Mainy deposes: “Furthermore it is pretended . . . that there remaineth still in mee the prince of all other devils, whose name should be Modu.” He is elsewhere called, “the prince Modu.” So, p. 269: “When the said priests had dispatched theire business at Hackney (where they had been exorcising Sarah Williams) they then returned towards mee, uppon pretence to cast the great Prince Modu . . . . out mee.” Steevens. In The Goblins, by Sir John Suckling, a catch is introduced which concludes with these two lines: “The prince of darkness is a gentleman: “Mahu, Mahu is his name.” I am inclined to think this catch not to be the production of Suckling, but the original referred to by Edgar's speech. Reed.

Note return to page 495 3&lblank; cannot suffer &lblank;] i. e. My duty will not suffer me, &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 496 *Quartos, most learned.

Note return to page 497 4&lblank; learned Theban:] Ben Jonson in his Masque of Pan's Anniversary, has introduced a Tinker whom he calls a learned Theban, perhaps in ridicule of this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 498 5His wits begin to unsettle.] On this occasion, I cannot prevail on myself to omit the following excellent remark of Mr. Horace Walpole, [now Lord Orford] inserted in the postscript to his Mysterious Mother. He observes, that when “Belvidera talks of “Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of Amber,— she is not mad, but light-headed. When madness has taken possession of a person, such character ceases to be fit for the stage, or at least should appear there but for a short time; it being the business of the theatre to exhibit passions, not distempers. The finest picture ever drawn, of a head discomposed by misfortune, is that of King Lear. His thoughts dwell on the ingratitude of his daughters, and every sentence that falls from his wildness excites reflection and pity. Had frenzy entirely seized him, our compassion would abate: we should conclude that he no longer felt unhappiness. Shakspeare wrote as a philosopher, Otway as a poet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 6Child Rowland to the dark tower came,] The word child (however it came to have this sense) is often [as Mr. Jennens has remarked,] applied to Knights, &c. in old historical songs and romances; of this, innumerable instances occur in The Reliques of ancient English Poetry. See particularly in vol. i. s. iv. v. 97, where, in a description of a battle between two knights, we find these lines: “The Eldridge knighte, he prick'd his steed;   “Syr Cawline bold abode: “Then either shook his trusty spear, “And the timber these two children bare   “So soon in sunder slode.” See in the same volumes the ballads concerning the child of Elle, child waters, child Maurice, (vol. iii. s. xx.) &c. The same idiom occurs in Spenser's Fairy Queen, where the famous knight sir Tristram is frequently called Child Tristram. See b. v. c. ii. st. 8. 13; b. vi. c. ii. st. 36; ibid. c. viii. st. 15. Percy. Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Woman's Prize, refer also to this: “&lblank; a mere hobby-horse “She made the Child Rowland.” In Have With You to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is Up, 1598, part of these lines repeated by Edgar is quoted: “&lblank; a pedant, who will find matter inough to dilate a whole daye of the First invention of   “Fy, fa, fum, “I smell the blood of an Englishman.” Both the quartos read: “&lblank; to the dark town come.” Steevens. Child is a common term in our old metrical romances and ballads; and is generally, if not always, applied to the hero or principal personage, who is sometimes a knight, and sometimes a thief. Syr Tryamoure is repeatedly so called both before and after his knighthood. I think, however, that this line is part of a translation of some Spanish, or perhaps, French ballad. But the two following lines evidently belong to a different subject: I find them in the second part of Jack and the Giants, which, if not as old as Shakspeare's time, may have been compiled from something that was so: They are uttered by a giant: “Fee, faw, fum, “I smell the blood of an Englishman; “Be he alive, or be he dead, “I'll grind his bones to make me bread.” English is here judiciously changed to British, because the characters are Britons, and the scene is laid long before the English had any thing to do with this country. Our author is not so attentive to propriety on every occasion. Ritson. Mr. Capell observes in a note, which, from its great length, I have been compelled to abridge, that Child Rowland means the knight Orlando. He would read come, with the quartos, absolutely (Orlando being come tto the dark tower); and supposes a line to be lost “which spoke of some giant, the inhabitant of that tower, and the smeller-out of Child Rowland, who comes to encounter him.” He proposes to fill up the passage thus: “Child Rowland to the dark tower come,   “The giant roar'd, and out he ran; “His word was still,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 500 7&lblank; but a provoking merit,] Provoking, here means stimulating; a merit he felt in himself, which irritated him against a father that had none. M. Mason. Cornwall, I suppose, means the merit of Edmund, which, being noticed by Gloster, provoked or instigated Edgar to seek his father's death. Dr. Warburton conceived that the merit spoken of was that of Edgar. But how is this consistent with the rest of the sentence? Malone.

Note return to page 501 8&lblank; comforting &lblank;] He uses the word in the juridical sense for supporting, helping, according to its derivation; “salvia confortat nervos.”— Schol. Sal. Johnson. Johnson refines too much on this passage; comforting means merely giving comfort or assistance. So Gloster says, in the beginning of the next scene: “&lblank; I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 502 *First folio, dear.

Note return to page 503 9Frateretto calls me; and tells me, Nero is an angler, &c.] See the quotation from Harsnet, p. 159, n. 1. Mr. Upton observes that Rabelais, b. ii. c. xxx. says that Nero was a fidler in hell, and Trajan an angler. Nero is introduced in the present play above 800 years before he was born. Malone. The History of Gargantua had appeared in English before 1575, being mentioned in Langham's Letter, printed in that year. Ritson.

Note return to page 504 1&lblank; Pray, innocent,] Perhaps he is here addressing the Fool. Fools were anciently called Innocents. So, in All's Well That Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. III.: “&lblank; the Sheriff's Fool—a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay.” Again, in The Whipper of the Satyre his Pennance in a White Sheet, &c. 1601: “A gentleman that had a wayward foole, “To passe the time, would needs at push-pin play; “And playing false, doth stirre the wav'ring stoole: “The innocent had spi'd him, and cri'd stay,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 505 2Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me,] And before, in the same Act, Sc. III.:—“Cry to it, nuncle.” Why does the Fool call the old King, nuncle? But we have the same appellation in The Pilgrim, by Fletcher: “Farewell, nuncle.” Act IV. Sc. I. And in the next scene, alluding to Shakspeare: “What mops and mowes it makes.” Whalley. See Mr. Vaillant's very decisive remark on this appellation, p. 54, n. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 506 3Fool.] This speech is omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 507 4Come whizzing in upon them:] The old copies have—hizzing, a mere corruption, from imperfect enunciation, which has been followed in all the modern editions. The verb is to whizz, not to hizz. The word is again used by our author in Julius Cæsar: “The exhalations whizzing in the air “Give so much light that I may read by them.” To whizz, Coles renders by—strideo. Dict. 1676. Malone. May it not rather mean hissing? Quarto A spells the word hiszing. Boswell.

Note return to page 508 4Edg.] This and the next thirteen speeches (which Dr. Johnson had enclosed in crotchets) are only in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 5&lblank; a horse's health,] Without doubt we should read—heels, i. e. to stand behind him. Warburton. Shakspeare is here speaking not of things maliciously treacherous, but of things uncertain and not durable. A horse is above all other animals subject to diseases. Johnson. Heels is certainly right. “Trust not a horse's heel, nor a dog's tooth,” is a proverb in Ray's Collection; as ancient at least as the time of our Edward II.: Et ideo Babio in comœdiis insinuat, dicens;   ‘In fide, dente, pede, mulieris, équi, canis, est fraus.’ Hoc sic vulgariter est dici:   “Till horsis fote thou never traist,   “Till hondis toth, no woman's faith.” Forduni Scotichronicon, l. xiv. c. xxxii. That in the text is probably from the Italian. Ritson.

Note return to page 510 6&lblank; most learned justicer;] The old copies read—justice. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone. Justicer, from Justitiarius, was the old term, as we learn from Lambard's Eirenarcha: “And of this it commeth that M. Fitzherbert (in his treatise of the Justices of Peace,) calleth them justicers (contractly for justiciars) and not justices, as we commonly, and not altogether unproperly, doe name them.” Boswell.

Note return to page 511 7Wantest, &c.] I am not confident that I understand the meaning of this desultory speech. When Edgar says, “Look where he stands and glares,” he seems to be speaking in the character of a madman, who thinks he sees the fiend. “Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam?” is a question which appears to be addressed to the visionary Goneril, or some other abandon'd female, and may signify, ‘Do you want to attract admiration, even while you stand at the bar of justice?’ Mr. Seward proposes to read, wanton'st instead of wantest. Steevens.

Note return to page 512 8&lblank; at trial, madam?] It may be observed that Edgar, being supposed to be found by chance, and therefore to have no knowledge of the rest, connects not his ideas with those of Lear, but pursues his own train of delirious or fantastick thought. To these words, “At trial, madam?” I think therefore that the name of Lear should be put. The process of the dialogue will support this conjecture. Johnson.

Note return to page 513 9Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me:] Both the quartos and the folio have—o'er the broome. The correction was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone. As there is no relation between broom and a boat, we may better read: “Come o'er the brook, Bessy, to me.” Johnson. At the beginning of A Very Mery and Pythie Commedie, called, The Longer Thou Livest, The More Foole Thou Art, &c. Imprinted at London by Wyllyam How, &c. black letter, no date, “Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vain gesture and foolish countenance, synging the foote of many songs, as fooles were wont;” and among them is this passage, which Dr. Johnson has very justly suspected of corruption: “Com over the boorne Bessé, “My little pretie Bessé, “Com over the boorne, Bessé, to me.” This song was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company in the year 1564. A bourn in the north signifies a rivulet or brook. Hence the names of many of our villages terminate in burn, as Milburn, Sherburn, &c. The former quotation, together with the following instances, at once confirm the justness of Dr. Johnson's remark, and support the reading: So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song I: “The bourns, the brooks, the becks, the rills, the rivulets.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. vi.: “My little boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.” Shakspeare himself, in The Tempest, appears to have discriminated bourn from bound of land in general: “Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.” Again, in The Vision of Pierce Plowman, line 8: “Under a brode banke by bourne syde.” To this I may add, that bourn, a boundary, is from the French borne. Bourne, or (as it ought to be spelt) burn, a rivulet, is from the German burn, or born, a well. Steevens. There is a peculiar propriety in this address, that has not, I believe, been hitherto observed. Bessy and poor Tom, it seems, usually travelled together. The author of The Court of Conscience, or Dick Whippers Sessions, 1607, describing beggars, idle rogues, and counterfeit madmen, thus speaks of these associates: “Another sort there is among you; they   “Do rage with furie as if they were so frantique “They knew not what they did, but every day   “Make sport with stick and flowers like an antique; “Stowt roge and harlot counterfeited gomme; “One calls herself poor Besse, the other Tom.” The old song of which Mr. Steevens has given a part, consisted of nine lines, but they are not worth insertion. Malone. “Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me.” Mad women who travel about the country, still go in Shropshire, and, perhaps, elsewhere, under the name of “cousin Betties.” Blakeway.

Note return to page 514 1&lblank; in the voice of a nightingale.] Another deponent in Harsnet's book, (p. 225,) says, that the mistress of the house kept a nightingale in a cage, which being one night called, and conveyed away into the garden, it was pretended the devil had killed it in spite. Perhaps this passage suggested to Shakspeare the circumstance of Tom's being haunted in the voice of a nightingale. Percy.

Note return to page 515 2&lblank; Hopdance cries in Tom's belly &lblank;] In Harsnet's book, p. 194, 195, Sarah Williams (one of the pretended demoniacks) deposeth, “&lblank; that if at any time she did belch, as often times she did by reason that shee was troubled with a wind in her stomacke, the priests would say at such times, that then the spirit began to rise in her . . . . and that the wind was the devil.” And, “as she saith, if they heard any croaking in her belly . . . . then they would make a wonderful matter of that.” Hoberdidance is mentioned before in Dr. Percy's note. Steevens. “One time shee remembereth, that shee having the said croaking in her belly, they said it was the devil that was about the bed, that spake with the voice of a toad.” Ibidem. Malone.

Note return to page 516 3&lblank; white herring.] White herrings are pickled herrings. See The Northumberland Household Book, p. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 517 4Sleepest, or wakest, &c.] This seems to be a stanza of some pastoral song. A shepherd is desired to pipe, and the request is enforced by a promise, that though his sheep be in the corn, i. e. committing a trespass by his negligence, implied in the question, Sleepest thou or wakest? yet a single tune upon his pipe shall secure them from the pound. Johnson. Minikin was anciently a term of endearment. So, in the enterlude of The Repentance of Marie Magdalaine, 1567, the Vice says, “What mynikin carnal concupiscence!” Barrett, in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, interprets feat by “proper, well-fashioned, minikin, handsome.” In The Interlude of the Four Elements, &c. printed by Rastell, 1519, Ignorance sings a song composed of the scraps of several others. Among them is the following line, on which Shakspeare may have designed a parody: “Sleepyst thou, wakyst thou, Geffery Coke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 518 5Pur!] This may be only an imitation of the noise made by a cat. Purre is, however, one of the devils mentioned in Harsnet's book, p. 50. Malone.

Note return to page 519 6Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.] This is a proverbial expression which occurs likewise in Mother Bombie, 1594, by Lyly. Steevens.

Note return to page 520 7&lblank; see, they bark at me.] The hint for this circumstance might have been taken from the pretended madness of one of the brothers in the translation of the Menæchmi of Plautus, 1595: “Here's an old mastiff bitch stands barking at me,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 521 8Be thy mouth or black or white,] To have the roof of the mouth black is in some dogs a proof that their breed is genuine. Steevens.

Note return to page 522 9&lblank; brach, or lym, &c.] Names of particular sorts of dogs. Pope. In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, Quarlous says,—“all the lime-hounds of the city should have drawn after you by the scent.”—A limmer or leamer, a dog of the chace, was so called from the leam or leash in which he was held till he was let slip. I have this information from Caius de Canibus Britannicis.—So, in the book of Antient Tenures, by T. B. 1679, the words, “canes domini regis lesos,” are translated “Leash hounds, such as draw after a hurt deer in a leash, or liam.” Again, in The Muses Elysium, by Drayton: “My dog-hook at my belt, to which my lyam's ty'd.” Again: “My hound then in my lyam,” &c. Among the presents sent from James I. to the king and queen of Spain were, “A cupple of lyme-houndes of singular qualities.” Again, in Massinger's Bashful Lover: “&lblank; smell out “Her footing like a lime-hound.” The late Mr. Hawkins, in his notes to The Return from Parnassus, p. 237, says, that a rache is a dog that hunts by scent wild beasts, birds, and even fishes, and that the female of it is called a brache; and in Magnificence, an ancient interlude or morality, by Skelton, printed by Rastell, no date, is the following line: “Here is a leyshe of ratches to renne an hare.” Steevens. What is here said of a rache might perhaps be taken by Mr. Hawkins, from Holinshed's Description of Scotland, p. 14, where the sleuthound means a bloodhound. The females of all dogs were once called braches; and Ulitius upon Gratius observes, “Racha Saxonibus canem significabat unde Scoti hodie Rache pro cane fœmina habent, quod Anglis est Brache.” Tollet. “&lblank; brach, or lym,” &c. The old copies have—brache or hym. The emendation was made by Sir T. Hanmer. A brache signified a particular kind of hound, and also a bitch. A lym or lyme, was a blood-hound. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. Malone.

Note return to page 523 1&lblank; bobtail tike,] Tijk is the Runick word for a little, or worthless dog: “Are Mr. Robinson's dogs turn'd tikes, with a wanion?” Witches of Lancaster, 1634. Steevens.

Note return to page 524 2&lblank; trundle-tail;] This sort of dog is mentioned in a Woman killed with Kindness, 1617: “&lblank; your dogs are trundle-tails and curs.” Again, in The Booke of Huntyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “&lblank; dunghill dogs, trindle-tails,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 525 3Tom will make them &lblank;] Thus the quartos. Folio—will make him. Malone.

Note return to page 526 4Do de, de de. Sessa. Come, &c.] The quartos read— loudla, doudla, come, &c. The folio as in the text, except that the word Sessa is spelt sesse. See p. 156, n. 6. Malone. Here is sessey again, which I take to be the French word cessez pronounced cessey, which was, I suppose, like some others in common use among us. It is an interjection enforcing cessation of any action, like, be quiet, have done. It seems to have been gradually corrupted into, so, so. Johnson. This word is wanting in the quarto: in the folio it is printed sese. It is difficult in this place to say what is meant by it. It should be remembered, that just before, Edgar had been calling on Bessey to come to him; and he may now with equal propriety invite Sessy (perhaps a female name corrupted from Cecilia) to attend him to wakes and fairs. Nor is it impossible but that this may be a part of some old song, and originally stood thus: “Sissy, come march to wakes,   “And fairs, and market towns &lblank;.” So, in Humor's Ordinarie, an ancient collection of satires, no date: “To make Sisse in love withal.” Again: “My heart's deare blood, sweet Sisse is my carouse.” There is another line in the character of Edgar, which I am very confident I have seen in an old ballad, viz.: “Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson is surely right, in supposing that sessy is a corruption of cessez, be quiet, stop, hold, let alone. It is so used by Christofero Sly, the drunken Tinker, in The Taming of the Shrew, and by Edgar himself, in a preceding scene—“Dolphin, my boy, Sessy; let him trot by.” But it does not seem equally clear that it has been corrupted into so, so. Ritson.

Note return to page 527 5&lblank; thy horn is dry.] Men that begged under pretence of lunacy used formerly to carry a horn, and blow it through the streets. Johnson. So, in Decker's O per se O, 4to. 1612. He is speaking of beggars. ‘The second beginnes:—what will you give poor Tom now? one pound of your sheepes feathers to make Poore Tom a blanket, or one cutting of your Sow side, &c. to make poore Tom a sharing horne, &c.—give poore Tom an old sheete to keepe him from the cold,” &c. Sig. M 3. A horn is at this day employed in many places in the country as a cup for drinking, but anciently the use of it was much more general. Thy horn is dry, however, appears to be a proverbial expression, introduced when a man has nothing further to offer, when he has said all he had to say. Such a one's pipe's out, is a phrase current in Ireland on the same occasion. I suppose Edgar to speak these words aside. Being quite weary of his Tom o' Bedlam's part, and finding himself unable to support it any longer, he says privately, “&lblank; I can no more: all my materials for sustaining the character of Poor Tom are now exhausted; my horn is dry: i. e. has nothing more in it; and accordingly we have no more of his dissembled madness till he meets his father in the next Act, when he resumes it for a speech or two, but not without expressing the same dislike of it that he expresses here, “&lblank; I cannot daub it further.” Steevens. “Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.” These words had not, I conceive, any such meaning as has been attributed to them. A horn was usually carried about by every Tom of Bedlam, to receive such drink as the charitable might afford him, with whatever scraps of food they might give him. When, therefore, Edgar says, his horn is dry, or empty, I conceive he merely means, in the language of the character he assumes, to supplicate that it may be filled with drink. See a Pleasant Dispute between Coach and Sedan, 4to. 1636: “I have observed when a coach is appendant but two or three hundred pounds a yeere, marke it, the dogges are as leane as rakes; you may tell all their ribbes lying by the fire; and Tom-a-Bedlam may sooner eate his horne, than get it filled with small drinke; and for his old almes of bacon there is no hope in the world.” This passage, I apprehend, puts the matter beyond dispute. A horn so commonly meant a drinking cup, that Coles's first explanation of it is in that sense: “A horn: Vas corneum.” Malone.

Note return to page 528 *Quartos, this hardness.

Note return to page 529 6&lblank; you will say, they are Persian attire;] Alluding, perhaps, to Clytus refusing the Persian robes offered him by Alexander. Steevens. I can see no ground for suspecting any classical allusion in Lear's ravings in this passage, any more than where he terms Edgar a Theban. Boswell.

Note return to page 530 *First folio omits attire.

Note return to page 531 7&lblank; lie here,] i. e. on the cushions to which he points. He had before said— “Will you lie down, and rest upon the cushions?” Malone.

Note return to page 532 8And I'll go to bed at noon.] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 533 9&lblank; Take up, take up;] One of the quartos reads—Take up the king, &c. the other-Take up to keep, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 534 1Oppress'd nature sleeps:] These two concluding speeches by Kent and Edgar, and which by no means ought to have been cut off, I have restored from the old quarto. The soliloquy of Edgar is extremely fine; and the sentiments of it are drawn equally from nature and the subject. Besides, with regard to the stage, it is absolutely necessary: for as Edgar is not designed, in the constitution of the play, to attend the King to Dover, how absurd would it look for a character of his importance to quit the scene without one word said, or the least intimation what we are to expect from him? Theobald. The lines inserted from the quarto are in crotchets. The omission of them in the folio is certainly faulty: yet I believe the folio is printed from Shakspeare's last revision, carelessly and hastily performed, with more thought of shortening the scenes, than of continuing the action. Johnson.

Note return to page 535 2&lblank; thy broken senses,] The quarto, from whence this speech is taken, reads, “thy broken sinews.” Senses is the conjectural emendation of Theobald. Steevens. A passage in Macbeth adds support to Theobald's emendation: “&lblank; the innocent sleep, “Balm of hurt minds &lblank;.” So afterwards in this play, more appositely, Act IV. Sc. VII.: “The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up “Of this child-changed father!” Malone.

Note return to page 536 3&lblank; free things,] States clear from distress. Johnson.

Note return to page 537 4But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip, When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship—.” Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.— Incert. Auct. Malone.

Note return to page 538 5Mark the high noises;] Attend to the great events that are approaching, and make thyself known when that false opinion now prevailing against thee shall, in consequence of just proof of thy integrity, revoke its erroneous sentence, and recall thee to honour and reconciliation. Johnson. By the high noises, I believe, are meant the loud tumults of the approaching war. Thus Claudian, in his Epist. ad Serenam: Præliaque altisoni referens Phlegræa mariti. Steevens. The high noises are perhaps the calamities and quarrels of those in a higher station than Edgar, of which he has been just speaking. The words, however, may allude to the proclamation which had been made for bringing in Edgar: “I heard myself proclaim'd, “And by the happy hollow of a tree, “Escap'd the hunt.” Malone.

Note return to page 539 6&lblank; and thyself bewray,] Bewray, which at present has only a dirty meaning, anciently signified to betray, to discover. In this sense it is used by Spenser; and in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Well, to the king Andrugio now will hye, “Hap lyfe , hap death, his safetie to bewray.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “With ink bewray what blood began in me.” Again, in Lyly's Endymion, 1591: “&lblank; lest my head break, and so I bewray my brains.” Steevens.

Note return to page 540 7&lblank; whose wrong thought defiles thee,] The quartos, where alone this speech is found, read—“whose wrong thoughts defile thee.” The rhyme shows that the correction, which was made by Mr. Theobald, is right. Malone.

Note return to page 541 8&lblank; a most festinate preparation;] Here we have the same error in the first folio, which has happened in many other places; the u employed instead of an n. It reads—festinate. The quartos festuant. See Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. III. and vol. viii. p. 176. Malone.

Note return to page 542 9&lblank; and intelligent betwixt us.] So, in a former scene: “&lblank; spies and speculations “Intelligent of our state.” Steevens. Thus the folio. The quartos read—“swift and intelligence betwixt us:” the poet might have written—swift in intelligence— Malone.

Note return to page 543 1&lblank; my lord of Gloster.] Meaning Edmund, newly invested with his father's titles. The Steward, speaking immediately after, mentions the old earl by the same title. Johnson.

Note return to page 544 2Hot questrists after him.] A questrist is one who goes in search or quest of another. Mr. Pope and Sir T. Hanmer read— —questers. Steevens.

Note return to page 545 3Though well we may not pass upon his life &lblank; yet our power Shall do a courtesy to our wrath,] To do a courtesy is to gratify, to comply with. To pass, is to pass a judicial sentence. Johnson. I believe, “do a courtesy to our wrath,” simply means—bend to our wrath, as a courtesy is made by bending the body. The original of the expression, to pass on any one, may be traced from Magna Charta: “&lblank; nec super eum ibimus, nisi per legale judicium parium suorum.” It is common to most of our early writers. So, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “I do not nowe consider the mischievous pageants he hath played; I do not now passe upon them.” Again, in If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in it, 1612: “A jury of brokers, impanel'd, and deeply sworn to passe on all villains in hell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 546 4&lblank; corky arms.] Dry, withered, husky arms. Johnson. As Shakspeare appears from other passages of this play to have had in his eye Bishop Harsnet's Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures, &c. 1603, 4to. it is probable, that this very expressive, but peculiar epithet, corky, was suggested to him by a passage in that very curious pamphlet: “It would pose all the cunning exorcists, that are this day to be found, to teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, curvet, and fetch her morice gamboles, as Martha Bressier (one of the possessed mentioned in the pamphlet) did.” Percy.

Note return to page 547 5&lblank; I am none.] Thus the folio. The quartos read—“I am true.” Malone.

Note return to page 548 6By the kind gods,] We are not to understand by this the gods in general, who are beneficent and kind to men: but that particular species of them called by the ancients dii hospitales, kind gods. So, Plautus, in Pœnulo: Deum hospitalem ac tesseram mecum fero. Warburton. Shakspeare hardly received any assistance from mythology to furnish out a proper oath for Gloster. People always invoke their deities as they would have them show themselves at particular times in their favour; and he accordingly calls those kind gods whom he would wish to find so on this occasion. He does so yet a second time in this scene. Our own liturgy will sufficiently evince the truth of my supposition. Steevens. Cordelia also uses the same invocation in the 4th Act: “O, you kind gods, “Cure this great breach in his abused nature!” M. Mason.

Note return to page 549 7Will quicken,] i. e. quicken into life. M. Mason.

Note return to page 550 8&lblank; my hospitable favours &lblank;] Favours means the same as features, i. e. the different parts of which a face is composed. So, in Drayton's epistle from Matilda to King John: “Within the compass of man's face we see, “How many sorts of several favours be. Again, in David and Bethsabe, 1599: “To daunt the favours of his lovely face.” Steevens.

Note return to page 551 9Be simple-answer'd,] The old quarto reads, Be simple answerer. —Either is good sense: simple means plain. Steevens.

Note return to page 552 1&lblank; thy peril &lblank;] I have inserted the pronoun—thy, for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 553 2I am tied to the stake,] So, in Macbeth: “They have chain'd me to a stake; I cannot fly, “But, bear-like, I must fight the course.” Steevens.

Note return to page 554 3&lblank; the course.] The running of the dogs upon me. Johnson.

Note return to page 555 4&lblank; stick boarish fangs.] The quartos read—“rash boarish fangs.” This verb occurs in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. ii.: “And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.” Again, b. v. c. iii.: “Rashing off helmes, and ryving plates asunder.” To rash is the old hunting term for the stroke made by a wild boar with his fangs. So, in Chapman's version of the eleventh Iliad: “&lblank; As when two chased boars “Turn head gainst kennels of bold hounds, and race way through their gores.” Steevens.

Note return to page 556 *First folio, steeled.

Note return to page 557 5&lblank; to rain.] Thus the folio. The quartos read—to rage. Steevens.

Note return to page 558 6&lblank; that stern time,] Thus the folio. Both the quartos read—“that dearn time.” Dearn is a north-country word, signifying lonely, solitary, secret, obscure, melancholy, uncomfortable, far from neighbours. So, in The Valiant Scot: “Of all thy joys the dearne and dismal end.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. i.: “They heard a rueful voice that dearnly cride.” Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “By many a dearne and painful pearch.” The reading in the text, however, is countenanced by the following passage in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: “&lblank; in this so sterne a time “Of night and danger—.” Steevens.

Note return to page 559 7&lblank; subscrib'd;] Yielded, submitted to the necessity of the occasion. Johnson.

Note return to page 560 8Upon these eyes, &c.] In Selimus, Emperor of the Turks, one of the sons of Bajazet pulls out the eyes of an Aga on the stage, and says— “Yes, thou shalt live, but never see that day, “Wanting the tapers that should give thee light. “[Pulls out his eyes.” Immediately after, his hands are cut off. I have introduced this passage to show that Shakspeare's drama was not more sanguinary than that of his contemporaries. Steevens. In Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602, Piero's tongue is torn out on the stage. Malone.

Note return to page 561 9My villain!] Villain is here perhaps used in its original sense of one in servitude. Steevens.

Note return to page 562 *Quartos, unbridle.

Note return to page 563 1&lblank; the overture of thy treasons &lblank;] Overture is here used for an opening or discovery. It was he who first laid thy treasons open to us. Coles, in his Dict. 1679, renders Overture, by apertior apertura. An overt act of treason, is the technical phrase. Malone.

Note return to page 564 2I'll never care what wickedness I do,] This short dialogue I have inserted from the old quarto, because I think it full of nature. Servants could hardly see such a barbarity committed on their master, without pity; and the vengeance that they presume must overtake the actors of it, is a sentiment and doctrine well worthy of the stage. Theobald. It is not necessary to suppose them the servants of Gloster; for Cornwall was opposed to extremity by his own servant. Johnson.

Note return to page 565 3&lblank; meet the old course of death,] That is, die a natural death. Malone.

Note return to page 566 *Quarto A omits roguish.

Note return to page 567 4&lblank; some flax, &c.] This passage is ridiculed by Ben Jonson, in The Case is Alter'd, 1609: “&lblank; go, get a white of an egg, and a little flax, and close the breaches of the head, it is the most conducible thing that can be.” Steevens. The Case is Alter'd was written before the end of the year 1599; but Ben Jonson might have inserted this sneer at our author, between the time of King Lear's appearance, and the publication of his own play in 1609. Malone. I was not at liberty to omit this note, but Mr. Gifford has shown this charge against Jonson to be entirely groundless. I wish he had not expressed his dissent in such strong language. Boswell.

Note return to page 568 5Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,] The meaning is, ‘'Tis better to be thus contemned, and known to yourself to be contemned.’ Or perhaps there is an error, which may be rectified thus: “Yet better thus unknown to be contemn'd.” When a man divests himself of his real character he feels no pain from contempt, because he supposes it incurred only by a voluntary disguise which he can throw off at pleasure. I do not think any correction necessary. Johnson. The sentiment is this:—It is better to be thus contemn'd and know it, than to be flattered by those who secretly contemn us. Henley. I cannot help thinking that this passage should be written thus: “Yet better thus unknown to be contemn'd, “Than still contemn'd and flatter'd to be worse. “The lowest,” &c. The quarto edition has no stop after flatter'd. The first folio, which has a comma there, has a colon at the end of the line. The expression in this speech—“owes nothing to thy blasts—” (in a more learned writer) might seem to be copied from Virgil, Æn. xi. 51: Nos juvenem exanimum, et nil jam cœlestibus ullis Debentem, vano mœsti comitamur honore. Tyrwhitt. I think with Mr. Tyrwhitt that Dr. Johnson's conjecture is well founded, and that the poet wrote—unknown. Malone. The meaning of Edgar's speech seems to be this. ‘Yet it is better to be thus, in this fixed and acknowledged contemptible state, than, living in affluence, to be flattered and despised at the same time. He who is placed in the worst and lowest state, has this advantage; he lives in hope, and not in fear, of a reverse of fortune. The lamentable change is from affluence to beggary. He laughs at the idea of changing for the worse, who is already as low as possible.’ Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Note return to page 569 6&lblank; lives not in fear:] So, in Milton's Paradise Regained, b. iii.: “For where no hope is left, is left no fear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 570 7&lblank; Welcome then,] The next two lines and a half are omitted in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 8&lblank; World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,] The sense of this obscure passage is, ‘O world! so much are human minds captivated with thy pleasures, that were it not for those successive miseries, each worse than the other, which overload the scenes of life, we should never be willing to submit to death, though the infirmities of old age would teach us to choose it as a proper asylum. Besides, by uninterrupted prosperity, which leaves the mind at ease, the body would generally preserve such a state of vigour as to bear up long against the decays of time.’ These are the two reasons, I suppose, why he said— “Life would not yield to age.” And how much the pleasures of the body pervert the mind's judgment, and the perturbations of the mind disorder the body's frame, is known to all. Warburton. O world! if reverses of fortune and changes such as I now see and feel, from ease and affluence to poverty and misery, did not show us the little value of life, we should never submit with any kind of resignation to the weight of years, and its necessary consequence, infirmity and death. Malone.

Note return to page 572 *First folio omits Alack, sir.

Note return to page 573 9Our mean secures us;] Mean is here a substantive, and signifies a middle state, as Dr. Warburton rightly interprets it. So, again, in The Merchant of Venice: “It is no mean happiness therefore to be seated in the mean.” See more instances in Dr. Johnson's Dictionary. Steevens. Both the quartos and the folio read—“our means secure us.” The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. I am not sure that it is necessary. In Shakspeare's age writers often thought it necessary to use a plural, when the subject spoken of related to more persons than one. So, in the last Act of this play—“O, our lives' sweetness!” not, “O, our life's sweetness.” Again: “&lblank; O, you mighty gods, “This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,” &c. Again, in King Richard III.: “To worry lambs, and lap their gentle bloods.” Again, in Hamlet: “He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, “For out o' doors he went without their helps.” Again, in Othello: “&lblank; a sort of men “That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.” Means, therefore, might have been here used as the plural of mean, or moderate condition. Gloster's meaning is, that in a moderate condition or middle state of life, we are secure from those temptations to which the more prosperous and affluent are exposed; and our very wants prove in this respect an advantage. Malone. I believe, means is only a typographical error. Steevens.

Note return to page 574 1&lblank; to see thee in my touch,] So, in another scene, “I see it feelingly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 575 2&lblank; Who is't can say, I am at the worst? &lblank; The worst is not, So long as we can say, This is the worst.] i. e. While we live; for while we yet continue to have a sense of feeling, something worse than the present may still happen. What occasioned this reflection was his rashly saying, in the beginning of this scene— “&lblank; To be worst, “The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune, &c. “The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,” &c. Warburton.

Note return to page 576 3As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport.] Dii nos quasi pilas homines habent. Plaut. Captiv. Prol. l. 22. Thus, also, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. ii.:   “&lblank; wretched human kinde, “Balles to the starres,” &c. Steevens. The quartos read—“They bit us for their sport.” Malone.

Note return to page 577 4&lblank; I cannot daub it &lblank;] i. e. Disguise. Warburton. So, in King Richard III.: “So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue.” Again, in one of the Paston Letters, vol. iii. p. 173: “&lblank; and saith to her, there is good craft in dawbing.” The quartos read, “I cannot dance it further.” Steevens.

Note return to page 578 5Bless the good man from the foul fiend!] Thus the quartos. The folio reads: “Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend!” Malone. “Bless the good man from the foul fiend!” This is sense, but I think we should read—“bless thee, good man,” &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 579 6[Five fiends, &c.] The rest of this speech is omitted in the folio. In Harsnet's Book, already quoted, p. 163, we have an extract from the account published by the exorcists themselves, viz. “By commaundement of the exorcist . . . . the devil in Ma. Mainy confessed his name to be Modu, and that he had besides himself seaven other spirits, and all of them captains, and of great fame.” “Then Edmundes (the exorcist) began againe with great earnestness, and all the company cried out, &c. . . . so as both that wicked prince Modu and his company might be cast out.” This passage will account for “five fiends having been in poor Tom at once.” Percy.

Note return to page 580 7Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing;] “If she have a little helpe of the mother, epilepsie, or cramp, to teach her role her eyes, wrie her mouth, gnash her teeth, starte with her body, hold her armes and handes stiffe, make antike faces, grinne, mow and mop like an ape,—then no doubt—the young girle is owleblasted and possessed.” Harsnet's Declaration, p. 136. Malone.

Note return to page 581 8&lblank; possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women.] Shakspeare has made Edgar, in his feigned distraction, frequently allude to a vile imposture of some English jesuits, at that time much the subject of conversation; the history of it having been just then composed with great art and vigour of style and composition by Dr. S. Harsnet, afterwards archbishop of York, by order of the privy-council, in a work intitled, A Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures to withdraw Her Majesty's Subjects from their Allegiance, &c. Practised by Edmunds, alias Weston, a Jesuit, and divers Romish Priests his wicked Associates: printed 1603. The imposture was in substance this. While the Spaniards were preparing their armada against England, the jesuits were here busy at work to promote it, by making converts: one method they employed was to dispossess pretended demoniacks, by which artifice they made several hundred converts amongst the common people. The principal scene of this farce was laid in the family of one Mr. Edmund Peckham, a Roman-catholick, where Marwood, a servant of Antony Babington's (who was afterwards executed for treason), Trayford, an attendant upon Mr. Peckham, and Sarah and Friswood Williams, and Anne Smith, three chambermaids in that family, came into the priests' hands for cure. But the discipline of the patients was so long and severe, and the priests so elate and careless with their success, that the plot was discovered on the confession of the parties concerned, and the contrivers of it deservedly punished. The five devils here mentioned, are the names of five of those who were made to act in this farce upon the chamber maids and waiting-women; and they were generally so ridiculously nick-named, that Harsnet has one chapter “on the strange names of their devils; lest, (says he,) meeting them otherwise by chance, you mistake them for the names of tapsters or jugglers.” Warburton. The passage in crotchets is omitted in the folio, because I suppose as the story was forgotten, the jest was lost. Johnson.

Note return to page 582 9Let the superfluous,] Lear has before uttered the same sentiment, which indeed cannot be too strongly impressed, though it may be too often repeated. Johnson. Superfluous is here used for one living in abundance. Warburton.

Note return to page 583 1That slaves your ordinance; &c.] The language of Shakspeare is very licentious, and his words have often meanings remote from the proper and original use. To slave or beslave another is to treat him with terms of indignity: in a kindred sense, to slave the ordinance, may be, to slight or ridicule it. Johnson. To slave an ordinance, is to treat it as a slave, to make it subject to us, instead of acting in obedience to it. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “&lblank; none “Could slave him like the Lydian Omphale.” Again, in A New Way to Pay Old Debts, by Massinger: “&lblank; that slaves me to his will.” Steevens. Heywood, in his Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637, uses this verb in the same sense: “What shall I do? my love I will not slave “To an old king, though he my love should crave.” Again, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “O powerful blood, how dost thou slave their soul!” “That slaves your ordinance,” is the reading of the folio. All the quartos have—“That stands your ordinance;” perhaps for withstands. Stands, however, may be right:—that abides your ordinance. The poet might have intended to mark the criminality of the lust-dieted man only in the subsequent words, “that will not see, because he doth not feel.” Malone.

Note return to page 584 2Looks fearfully in the confined deep:] So the folio. The quartos read—Looks firmly. Mr. Rowe and all the subsequent editors for in read on. I see no need of change. Shakspeare considered the sea as a mirrour. To look in a glass, is yet our colloquial phraseology. Malone. In for into. We still say that a window looks into the garden or the stable-yard. Steevens.

Note return to page 585 3&lblank; our mild husband &lblank;] It must be remembered that Albany, the husband of Goneril, disliked, in the end of the first Act, the scheme of oppression and ingratitude. Johnson.

Note return to page 586 4&lblank; Our wishes, on the way, May prove effects.] She means, I think, ‘The wishes, which we expressed to each other on our way hither, may be completed, and prove effectual to the destruction of my husband.’ On her entrance she said— “&lblank; I marvel our mild husband “Not met us on the way.” Again, more appositely, in King Richard III.: “Thou know'st our reasons, urg'd upon the way.” See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Umbella: A kind of round thing like a round skreene, that gentlemen use in Italie in time of summer,—to keep the sunne from them, when they are riding by the way.” Malone. I believe the meaning of the passage to be this: “What we wish, before our march is at an end, may be brought to happen,” i. e. the murder or despatch of her husband. On the way, however, may be equivalent to the expression we now use, viz. By the way, or By the by, i. e. en passant. Steevens. The wishes we have formed and communicated to each other, on our journey, may be carried into effect. M. Mason.

Note return to page 587 5I must change arms &lblank;] Thus the quartos. The folio reads —change names. Steevens.

Note return to page 588 6Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air;] She bids him decline his head, that she might give him a kiss (the Steward being present) and that it might appear only to him as a whisper. Steevens.

Note return to page 589 7O, the difference of man, and man!] Omitted in the quartos. Steevens. Some epithet to difference was probably omitted in the folio. Malone. According to the present regulation of this passage, this measure is complete. Steevens. Mr. Steevens speaks of the regulation of this passage in his late editions, which was as follows: “O, the difference of man, and man! To thee “A woman's services are due; my fool,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 590 8&lblank; my fool Usurps my bed.] One of the quartos reads: “My foot usurps my head;” the other, “My foot usurps my body.” Steevens. Quarto A reads—“my foot usurps my body.” Quarto B—“my foot usurps my head.” Quarto C—“a fool usurps my bed.” The folio reads—“My fool usurps my body.” Malone.

Note return to page 591 *Quartos B and C, the whistling.

Note return to page 592 9I have been worth the whistle.] This expression is a reproach to Albany for having neglected her; “though you disregard me thus, I have been worth the whistle, I have found one that thinks me worth calling.” Johnson. This expression is a proverbial one. Heywood, in one of his dialogues, consisting entirely of proverbs, says: “It is a poor dog that is not worth the whistling.” Goneril's meaning seems to be—“There was a time when you would have thought me worth the calling to you;” reproaching him for not having summoned her to consult with on the present critical occasion. Steevens. I think Mr. Steevens's interpretation the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 593 1&lblank; I fear your disposition:] These words, and the lines that follow, to monsters of the deep, are found in the quartos, but are improperly omitted in the folio. They are necessary, as Mr. Pope has observed, “to explain the reasons of the detestation which Albany here expresses to his wife.” Malone.

Note return to page 594 2That nature, which contemns its origin, Cannot be border'd certain in itself;] The sense is, ‘That nature which is arrived to such a pitch of unnatural degeneracy, as to contemn its origin, cannot from thenceforth be restrained within any certain bounds, but is prepared to break out into the most monstrous excesses every way, as occasion or temptation may offer. Heath.

Note return to page 595 3She that herself will sliver and disbranch &lblank;] To sliver signifies to tear off or disbranch. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; slips of yew “Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.” Warburton.

Note return to page 596 4She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap,] She who breaks the bonds of filial duty, and becomes wholly alienated from her father, must wither and perish, like a branch separated from that sap which supplies it with nourishment, and gives life to the matter of which it is composed. So, in A Brief Chronycle concernynge the Examinacyon and Death of Syr Johan Oldcastle, 1544: “Then sayd the lorde Cobham, and spredde his armes abrode: This is a very crosse, yea and so moche better than your crosse of wode, in that yt was created as God: yet will I not seeke to have yt worshipped. Then sayd the byshop of London, Syr, ye wote wele that he dyed on a materyall crosse.” Mr. Theobald reads maternal, and Dr. Johnson thinks that the true reading. Syr John Froissart's Chronicle (as Dr. Warburton has observed) in the title-page of the English translation printed in 1525, is said to be “translated out of French to our material English Tongue by John Bourchier.” And I have found material (from mater) used in some other old books for maternal, but neglected to note the instances. I think, however, that the word is here used in its ordinary sense. Maternal sap (or any synonymous words,) would introduce a mixed and confused metaphor. Material sap is strictly correct. From the word herself to the end, the branch was the figurative object of the poet's thought. Malone. Throughout the plays of our author I do not recollect a single instance of the adjective—maternal. Steevens.

Note return to page 597 5And come to deadly use.] Alluding to the use that witches and inchanters are said to make of wither'd branches in their charms. A fine insinuation in the speaker, that she was ready for the most unnatural mischief, and a preparative of the poet to her plotting with the bastard against her husband's life. Warburton. Dr. Warburton might have supported his interpretation by the passage in Macbeth, quoted in the preceding page, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 598 6&lblank; would lick,] This line, which had been omitted by all my predecessors, I have restored from the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 599 7&lblank; these vile offences,] In quartos A and B, we find—the vile offences; in quarto C,—this vile. This was certainly a misprint for these. Malone.

Note return to page 600 8&lblank; like monsters of the deep.] Fishes are the only animals that are known to prey upon their own species. Johnson. This, as Mr. Douce observes, is an error. Boswell.

Note return to page 601 9&lblank; that not know'st, &c.] The rest of this speech is omitted in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 1Fools do those villains pity, &c.] She means, that none but fools would pity those villains, who are prevented from executing their malicious designs, and punished for their evil intention. It is not clear whether this fiend means her father, or the King of France. If these words were intended to have a retrospect to Albany's speech, which the word pity might lead us to suppose, Lear must be in her contemplation; if they are considered as connected with what follows—“Where's thy drum?” &c. the other interpretation must be adopted. The latter appears to me the true one; and perhaps the punctuation of the quarto, in which there is only a comma after the word mischief, ought to have been preferred. Malone. I do not perceive to what the word—fiend, in the fourth line of the foregoing note, refers. Steevens. It refers, as I am confident every reader will at once understand, to the detestable fiend-like Goneril. Malone.

Note return to page 603 2Proper deformity &lblank;] i. e. Diabolick qualities appear not so horrid in the devil, to whom they belong, as they belong, as in woman, who unnaturally assumes them. Warburton.

Note return to page 604 *Quarto C, shewes not.

Note return to page 605 3Thou changed and self-cover'd thing,] This, and the next speech, are wanting in the folio. Steevens. Of these lines there is but one copy, and the editors are forced upon conjecture. They have published this line thus: “Thou chang'd, and self-converted thing,” But I cannot but think that by self-cover'd the author meant, thou that hast disguised nature by wickedness; thou that hast hid the woman under the fiend. Johnson. The following words, “be-monster not thy nature,” seem rather to support the reading of the former editors, which was self-converted; and a thought somewhat similar occurs in Fletcher's play of The Captain, where the father says to Lelia— “&lblank; Oh, good God! “To what an impudence, thou wretched woman, “Hast thou begot thyself again!”— M. Mason. By thou “self-cover'd thing,” the poet, I think, means, thou who hast put a covering on thyself, which nature did not give thee. The covering which Albany means, is, the semblance and appearance of a fiend. Malone. Self-cover'd, perhaps, was said in allusion to the envelope which the maggots of some insects furnish to themselves. Or the poet might have referred to the operation of the silk-worm, that— “&lblank; labours till it clouds itself all o'er.” Steevens.

Note return to page 606 4Be-monster not thy feature.] Feature, in Shakspeare's age, meant the general cast of countenance, and often beauty. Bullokar, in his Expositor, 1616, explains it by the words, “handsomeness, comeliness, beautie.” Malone.

Note return to page 607 5To let these hands of mine obey my blood,] As this line wants a foot, perhaps our author wrote— “To let these hands of mine obey my blood—.” So, in King John: “&lblank; This hand of mine “Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand.” Steevens. Theobald proposes to read, boiling blood. Boswell.

Note return to page 608 6&lblank; and amongst them fell'd him dead:] i. e. they (Cornwall and his other servants) amongst them fell'd him dead. Malone.

Note return to page 609 7You justicers,] Most of the old copies have justices; but it was certainly a misprint. The word justicer is used in two other places in this play; and though printed rightly in the folio, is corrupted in the quarto in the same manner as here. Quarto C reads rightly—justicers, in the line before us. Malone.

Note return to page 610 8One way I like this well;] Goneril's plan was to poison her sister—to marry Edmund—to murder Albany—and to get possession of the whole kingdom. As the death of Cornwall facilitated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at it; but disliked it, as it put it in the power of her sister to marry Edmund. M. Mason.

Note return to page 611 9&lblank; all the building in my fancy &lblank;] So, in Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; the buildings in my fancy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 612 *Quartos, tooke.

Note return to page 613 1[Scene III.] This scene, left out in all the common books, is restored from the old edition; it being manifestly of Shakspeare's writing, and necessary to continue the story of Cordelia, whose behaviour is here most beautifully painted. Pope. The scene seems to have been left out only to shorten the play, and is necessary to continue the action. It is extant only in the quarto, being omitted in the first folio. I have therefore put it between crotchets. Johnson.

Note return to page 614 2&lblank; a Gentleman.] The gentleman whom he sent in the foregoing act with letters to Cordelia. Johnson.

Note return to page 615 3Why the king of France is so suddenly gone back, &c.] The king of France being no longer a necessary personage, it was fit that some pretext for getting rid of him should be formed before the play was too near advanced towards a conclusion. Decency required that a Monarch should not be silently shuffled into the pack of insignificant characters; and therefore his dismission (which could be effected only by a sudden recall to his own dominions) was to be accounted for before the audience. For this purpose, among others, the present scene was introduced. It is difficult indeed to say what use could have been made of the King, had he appeared at the head of his own armament, and survived the murder of his queen. His conjugal concern on the occasion might have weakened the effect of Lear's parental sorrow; and, being an object of respect as well as pity, he would naturally have divided the spectator's attention, and thereby diminished the consequence of Albany, Edgar, and Kent, whose exemplary virtues deserved to be ultimately placed in the most conspicuous point of view. Steevens.

Note return to page 616 4The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer.] Shakspeare seems to have been poor in the names of Frenchmen, or he would scarce have given us here a Monsieur le Fer as Mareschal of France, after he had appropriated the same appellation to a common soldier, who was fer'd, ferreted, and ferk'd, by Pistol in King Henry V. Steevens.

Note return to page 617 5Ay, sir;] The quartos read—I say. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 618 6&lblank; patience and sorrow strove &lblank;] The quartos for strove have streme, Mr. Pope made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 619 7&lblank; her smiles and tears Were like a better day:] It is plain we should read—a wetter May, i. e. A spring season wetter than ordinary. Warburton. Both the quartos read—a better way; which being perfectly unintelligible, I have adopted part of the emendation introduced by Dr. Warburton. The late editions have given—a better day, a reading which first appeared in a note of Mr. Theobald's. A better day, however it be understood, is, in my opinion, inconsistent with the context. If a better day means either a good day, or the best day, it cannot represent Cordelia's smiles and tears; for neither the one or the other necessarily implies rain, without which, there is nothing to correspond with her tears; nor can a rainy day, occasionally brightened by sunshine, with any propriety be called a good or the best day. We are compelled therefore to make some other change. A better May, on the other hand, whether we understand by it, a good May, or a May better than ordinary, corresponds exactly with the preceding image: for in every May, rain may be expected, and in a good, or a better May than ordinary, the sunshine, like Cordelia's smiles, will predominate. Mr. Steevens had quoted a passage from Sidney's Arcadia, which Shakspeare may have had in view. Perhaps the following passage, in the same book, p. 163, edit. 1593, bears a still nearer resemblance to that before us: “And with that she prettily smiled, which mingled with her tears, one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure, or a delightful sorrow; but like when a few April drops are scattered by a gentle zephyrus among fine-coloured flowers.” Malone. The thought is taken from Sidney's Arcadia, p. 244: “Her tears came dropping down like rain in sunshine.” Cordelia's behaviour on this occasion is apparently copied from Philoclea's. The same book, in another place, says,—“that her tears followed one another like a precious rope of pearl.” The same comparison also occurs in a very scarce book, entitle A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels, &c. Translated from the French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton] 4o. 1578, p. 289. “Who hath viewed in the spring time, raine and sunne-shine in one moment, might beholde the troubled countenance of the gentlewoman, after she had read and over-read the letters of her Floradin with an eye now smyling, then bathed in teares.” The quartos read,—a better way, which may be accidental inversion of the m. A better day, however, is the best day, and the best day is a day most favourable to the productions of the earth. Such are the days in which there is a due mixture of rain and sunshine. It must be observed that the comparative is used by Milton and others, instead of the positive and superlative, as well as by Shakspeare himself, in the play before us: “The safer sense will ne'er accommodate “Its master thus.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; it hath cow'd my better part of man.” Again: “&lblank; Go not my horse the better.” Mr. Pope makes no scruple to say of Achilles, that— “The Pelian javelin in his better hand “Shot trembling rays,” &c. i. e. his best hand, his right. Mr. Malone reads—a better May. As objections may be started against either reading, I declare my inability to decide between them. I have therefore left that word in the text which I found in possession of it [a better day]. We might read— “Were like an April day:” So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “The April's in her eyes: it is love's spring, “And these the showers do bring it on.” Steevens. Doth not Dr. Warburton's alteration infer that Cordelia's sorrow was superior to her patience? But it seem'd that she was a queen over her passion; and the smiles on her lip appeared not to know that tears were in her eyes. “Her smiles and tears were like a better day,” or “like a better May,” may signify that they were like such a season where sunshine prevailed over rain. So, in All's Well That Ends Well, Act V. Sc. III. we see in the king “sunshine and hail at once, but to the brightest beams distracted clouds give way: the time is fair again, and he is like a day of season,” i. e. a better day. Tollet.

Note return to page 620 8&lblank; smiles,] The quartos read—smilets. This may be a diminutive of Shakspeare's coinage. Steevens.

Note return to page 621 9As pearls from diamonds dropp'd, &c.] In The Two Gentlemen of Verona we have the same image: “A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears.” Malone. The harshness of the foregoing line, in the speech of the Gentleman, induces me to believe that our author might have written: “Like pearls from diamonds dropping.” This idea might have been taken from the ornaments of the ancient carcanet or necklace, which frequently consisted of table diamonds with pearls appended to them, or, in the jewellers' phrase, dropping from them. Pendants for the ear are still called drops. A similar thought to this of Shakspeare, occurs in Middleton's Game at Chess, no date: “&lblank; the holy dew lies like a pearl “Dropt from the opening eye-lids of the morn “Upon the bashful rose.” Milton has transplanted this image into his Lycidas: “Under the opening eye-lids of the morn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 622 1Made she no verbal question?] Means only, ‘Did she enter into no conversation with you?’ In this sense our poet frequently uses the word question, and not simply as the act of interrogation. Did she give you to understand her meaning by words as well as by the foregoing external testimonies of sorrow? So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; she told me “In a sweet verbal brief,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 623 2'Faith, once, or twice,] Thus the quartos. Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read—Yes, once, &c. Regan, in a subsequent scene, in like manner, uses the rejected word, however in-elegant it may now appear: “Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.” Malone.

Note return to page 624 3Let pity not be believed!] i. e. Let not such a thing as pity be supposed to exist! Thus the old copies; but the modern editors have hitherto read— “Let pity not believe it &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 625 4And clamour moisten'd:] It is not impossible but Shakspeare might have formed this fine picture of Cordelia's agony from holy writ, in the conduct of Joseph; who, being no longer able to restrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his presence; and then wept aloud, and discovered himself to his brethren. Theobald. “&lblank; clamour moisten'd.” That is, ‘her out-cries were accompanied with tears.’ Johnson. The old copies read—“And clamour moisten'd her.” I have no doubt that the word her was inserted by the compositor's eye glancing on the middle of the preceding line, where that word occurs; and therefore have omitted it. It may be observed that the metre is complete without this word. She moisten'd clamour, or the exclamations she had uttered, with tears. This is perfectly intelligible; but “clamour moisten'd her,” is certainly nonsense. Malone.

Note return to page 626 5&lblank; govern our conditions;] i. e. regulate our dispositions. See vol. ix. p. 312, and p. 424. Malone.

Note return to page 627 6&lblank; one self mate and mate &lblank;] The same husband and the same wife. Johnson. Self is used here, as in many other places in these plays, for self-same. Malone.

Note return to page 628 7&lblank; these things sting His mind so venomously, that burning shame &lblank;] The metaphor is here preserved with great knowledge of nature. The venom of poisonous animals being a high caustick salt, that has all the effect of fire upon the part. Warburton.

Note return to page 629 8'Tis so; they are afoot.] Dr. Warburton thinks it necessary to read, 'tis said; but the sense is plain, ‘So it is that they are on foot.’ Johnson. ‘'Tis so, means, I think, ‘I have heard of them; they do not exist in report only; they are actually on foot.’ Malone.

Note return to page 630 9&lblank; some dear cause &lblank;] Some important business. See Timon of Athens, Act V. Sc. II. Malone. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; a ring, that I must use “In dear employment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 631 1&lblank; fumiter, and furrow weeds,] i. e. fumitory: by the old herbalists written fumittery. Harris. Mr. Boucher suggests that furrow should be farrow, fær, empty. Blakeway.

Note return to page 632 2With harlocks, hemlock, &c.] The quartos read—With hordocks; the folio—With hardokes. Malone. I do not remember any such plant as a hardock, but one of the most common weeds is a burdock, which I believe should be read here; and so Hanmer reads. Johnson. Hardocks should be harlocks. Thus Drayton, in one of his Eclogues: “The honey-suckle, the harlocke, “The lilly, and the lady-smocke,” &c. Farmer. One of the readings offered by the quartos (though misspelt) is perhaps the true one. The hoar-dock, is the dock with whitish woolly leaves. Steevens. Harlocks, must be a typographical error for charlock, the common name of sinapis arvensis, wild mustard. Harris.

Note return to page 633 2Darnel,] According to Gerard, is the most hurtful of weeds among corn. It is mentioned in The Witches of Lancashire, 1634: “That cockle, darnel, poppy wild, “May choak his grain,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 634 3&lblank; What can man's wisdom do,] Do should be omitted, as needless to the sense of the passage, and injurious to its metre. Thus, in Hamlet: “Try what repentance can: What can it not?” Do, in either place, is understood, though suppressed. Steevens. Do is found in none of the old copies except quarto B. Perhaps we should place a comma after wisdom. “Do, what man's wisdom can.” Boswell.

Note return to page 635 4&lblank; the means to lead it.] The reason which should guide it. Johnson.

Note return to page 636 5&lblank; important &lblank;] In other places of this author, for importunate. Johnson. See Comedy of Errors, Act V. Sc. I. The folio reads, importuned. Steevens.

Note return to page 637 6No blown ambition &lblank;] No inflated, no swelling pride. Beza on the Spanish Armada: Quam bene te ambitio mersit vanissima, ventus,   Et tumidos tumidæ vos superastis aquæ. Johnson. In the Mad Lover of Beaumont and Fletcher, the same epithet is given to ambition. Again, in The Little French Lawyer: “I come with no blown spirit to abuse you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 638 7&lblank; your lord &lblank;] The folio reads, your lord; and rightly. Goneril not only converses with Lord Edmund, in the Steward's presence, but prevents him from speaking to, or even seeing her husband. Ritson. The quartos read—with your lady. In the manuscripts from which they were printed an L only was probably set down, according to the mode of that time. It could be of no consequence to Regan, whether Edmund spoke with Goneril at home, as they had travelled together from the Earl of Gloster's castle to the Duke of Albany's palace, and had on the road sufficient opportunities for laying those plans of which Regan was apprehensive. On the other hand, Edmund's abrupt departure without even speaking to the Duke, to whom he was sent on a commission, could not but appear mysterious, and excite her jealousy. Malone.

Note return to page 639 8His nighted life;] i. e. His life made dark as night, by the extinction of his eyes. Steevens.

Note return to page 640 9&lblank; with my letter.] So the folio. The quartos read— letters. The meaning is the same. Malone.

Note return to page 641 1Let me unseal, &c.] I know not well why Shakspeare gives the Steward, who is a mere factor of wickedness, so much fidelity. He now refuses the letter; and afterwards, when he is dying, thinks only how it may be safely delivered. Johnson.

Note return to page 642 2&lblank; She gave strange œiliads,] Œillade, Fr. a cast, or significant glance of the eye. Greene, in his Disputation between a He and She Coney-catcher, 1592, speaks of “amorous glances, smirking œiliades,” &c. Steevens. The reader may be amused with the various readings of this word in the old copies. The quartos read—Aliads; the first folio—Eliads; the second folio—Iliads. Rowe made the emendation. Boswell.

Note return to page 643 3I speak in understanding; you are, I know it.] Thus the folio. The quartos read—“in understanding, for I know't.” Malone. So, in The Winter's Tale: “I speak as my understanding instructs me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 644 4&lblank; I do advise you, take this note:] Note means in this place not a letter, but a remark. Therefore observe what I am saying. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; takes note of what is done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 645 5&lblank; You may gather more.] You may infer more than I have directly told you. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather.” Steevens.

Note return to page 646 6&lblank; give him this;] I suppose Regan here delivers a ring or some other favour to the Steward, to be conveyed to Edmund. Malone.

Note return to page 647 7What party &lblank;] Quarto, What lady. Johnson.

Note return to page 648 8Scene VI.] This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is cured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii. Johnson.

Note return to page 649 9No, truly.] Somewhat, necessary to complete the measure, is omitted in this or the foregoing hemistich. Sir Thomas Hanmer supplies the defect, though perhaps but aukwardly, by reading— “No truly, not.” Steevens. The quartos read as one line: “Horrible sleep: hark, do you hear the sea?” Boswell.

Note return to page 650 1&lblank; thy voice is alter'd; &c.] Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards for a malignant spirit. Johnson.

Note return to page 651 2&lblank; How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!] This description has been much admired since the time of Addison, who has remarked, with a poor attempt at pleasantry, that “he who can read it without being giddy, has a very good head, or a very bad one.” The description is certainly not mean, but I am far from thinking it wrought to the utmost excellence of poetry. He that looks from a precipice finds himself assailed by one great and dreadful image of irresistible destruction. But this overwhelming idea is dissipated and enfeebled from the instant that the mind can restore itself to the observation of particulars, and diffuse its attention to distinct objects. The enumeration of the choughs and crows, the samphire-man, and the fishers, counteracts the great effect of the prospect, as it peoples the desert of intermediate vacuity, and stops the mind in the rapidity of its descent through emptiness and horror. Johnson. It is to be considered that Edgar is describing an imaginary precipice, and is not therefore supposed to be so strongly impressed with the dreadful prospect of inevitable destruction, as a person would be who really found himself on the brink of one. M. Mason.

Note return to page 652 3&lblank; Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!] “Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea-cliffs in this country: it is terrible to see how people gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom from the top of the impending rocks as it were in the air.” Smith's History of Waterford, p. 315, edit. 1774. Tollet. This personage is not a mere creature of Shakspeare's imagination, for the gathering of samphire was literally a trade or common occupation in his time, it being carried and cried about the streets, and much used as a pickle. So, in a song in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, in which the cries of London are enumerated under the title of the cries of Rome: “I ha' rock-samphier, rock-samphier;   “Thus go the cries in Rome's faire towne;   “First they go up street, and then they go downe: “Buy a map, a mill-mat,” &c. Again, in Venner's Via recta, &c. 4to. 1622: “Samphire is in like manner preserved in pickle, and eaten with meates. It is a very pleasant and familiar sauce, and agreeing with man's body.” Dover Cliff was particularly resorted to for this plant. See Drayton's Polyolbion, book xviii.: “Rob Dover's neighbouring cleeves of samphire, to excite “His dull and sickly taste, and stir up appetite.” Malone.

Note return to page 653 4&lblank; her cock;] Her cock-boat. Johnson. So, in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1637: “&lblank; I caused my lord to leap into the cock, &c.—at last our cock and we were cast ashore.” Again, in the ancient bl. l. comedy called Common Conditions: “B. Lanche out the cocke, boies, and set the maister ashoare. “M. The cocke is lanshed, eche man to his oare.— “M. Boie, come up, and grounde the cocke on the sande.” Again, in Barclay's Ship of Fools: “&lblank; our ship can hold no more, “Hause in the cocke &lblank;.” Hence the term cockswain, a petty officer in a ship. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 5Topple down headlong.] To topple is to tumble. The word is also used in Macbeth. So, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; fifty people toppled up their heels there.”—Again, “&lblank; he had thought to have toppled his burning ear, &c. into the sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 655 6&lblank; for all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright.] But what danger is in leaping upwards or downwards? He who leaps thus must needs fall again on his feet upon the place from whence he rose. We should read: “Would I not leap outright,” i. e. forward: and then being on the verge of a precipice, he must needs fall headlong. Warburton. I doubt whether the word—outright, was even in use at the time when this play was written. Upright, with the strict definition—“perpendicularly erect,” is absurd; for such a leap is physically impossible. Upright is barely expletive: upwards, from the ground. Farmer. One of the senses of the word upright, in Shakspeare's time, was that in which it is now used. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; time goes upright with his carriage.” Again, in Florio's translation of Montaigne's Essays, 1603: “I have seene a man take his full carier: standing boult upright on both his feete in the saddle.” And with this signification, I have no doubt, it was used here. Every man who leaps, in his first effort to raise himself from the ground, springs upright. Far from thinking of leaping forward for which, being certain destruction, nothing could compensate, Edgar says, he would not for all beneath the moon run the risk of even leaping upwards. Dr. Warburton idly objects, that he who leaps upwards, must needs fall again on his feet upon the same place from whence he rose. If the commentator had tried such a leap within a foot of the edge of a precipice, before he undertook the revision of these plays, the world would, I fear, have been deprived of his labours. Malone.

Note return to page 656 7Why I do trifle thus with his despair, Is done to cure it.] Mr. Theobald and Dr. Warburton, who read, with one of the quartos—“'Tis done,” place an interrogation point at the end of the first of these lines; but, in my opinion, improperly. Steevens. “Is done—” Thus the quartos B and C, and the folio. Quarto A, reads—'Tis done. Malone.

Note return to page 657 8Gone, sir? farewell.] Thus the quartos and folio. The modern editors have been content to read—Good sir, &c. Steevens. They followed the arbitrary alteration of the editor of the second folio. Malone. Perhaps, a mere typographical error. Steevens.

Note return to page 658 9&lblank; when life itself Yields to the theft:] When life is willing to be destroyed. Johnson.

Note return to page 659 1Thus might he pass indeed:] Thus might he die in reality. We still use the word passing bell. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 2Had'st thou been aught but gossomer, feathers, air,] Gossomore, the white and cob-web like exhalations that fly about in hot sunny weather. Skinner says, in a book called The French Gardiner, it signifies the down of the sow-thistle, which is driven to and fro by the wind: “As sure some wonder on the cause of thunder, “On ebb and flood, on gossomer and mist, “And on all things, till that the cause is wist.” Grey. The substance called Gossamer is formed of the collected webs of flying spiders, and during calm weather in Autumn sometimes falls in amazing quantities. Holt White. See Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. VI. Malone.

Note return to page 661 3Ten masts at each make not the altitude,] So Mr. Pope found it in the old editions; and seeing it corrupt, judiciously corrected it to attacht. But Mr. Theobald restores again the old nonsense, at each. Warburton. Mr. Pope's conjecture may stand if the word which he uses were known in our author's time, but I think it is of later introduction. We may say: “Ten masts on end &lblank;.” Johnson. Perhaps we should read—at reach, i. e. extent. In Mr. Rowe's edition it is, “Ten masts at least.” Steevens. “Ten masts at each make not the altitude.” i. e. each at, or near, the other. Such I suppose the meaning, if the text be right; but it is probably corrupt. The word attach'd certainly existed in Shakspeare's time, but was not used in the sense required here. In Bullokar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616, to attach is interpreted, “To take, lay hold on.” It was verbum juris. Malone.

Note return to page 662 4&lblank; chalky bourn:] Bourn seems here to signify a hill. Its common signification is a brook. Milton in Comus uses bosky bourn, in the same sense perhaps with Shakspeare. But in both authors it may mean only a boundary. Johnson. Here it certainly means “this chalky boundary of England, towards France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 663 5Horns whelk'd,] Whelk'd, I believe, signifies varied with protuberances. So, in King Henry V. Fluellen speaking of Bardolph: “&lblank; his face is all bubukles, and whelks,” &c. Steevens. Twisted, convolved. A welk or whilk is a small shell-fish. Drayton in his Mortimeriados, 4to. 1596, seems to use this participle in the sense of rolling or curled: “The sunny palfreys have their traces broke, “And setting fire upon the welked shrouds “Now through the heaven flie gadding from the yoke.” Malone.

Note return to page 664 6&lblank; enridged sea;] Thus the quarto. The folio enraged. Steevens. Enridged was certainly our author's word; for he has the same expression in his Venus and Adonis: “Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, “Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend.” Malone.

Note return to page 665 7&lblank; the clearest gods,] The purest; the most free from evil. Johnson. So, in Timon of Athens: “Roots! you clear gods!” Malone.

Note return to page 666 8&lblank; who make them honours Of men's impossibilities,] Who are graciously pleased to preserve men in situations in which they think it impossible to escape: Or, perhaps, who derive honour from being able to do what man can not do. Malone. By men's impossibilities perhaps is meant, what men call impossibilities, what appear as such to mere mortal beings. Steevens.

Note return to page 667 9Bear free and patient thoughts.] To be melancholy is to have the mind chained down to one painful idea; there is therefore great propriety in exhorting Gloster to free thoughts, to an emancipation of his soul from grief and despair. Johnson.

Note return to page 668 1The safer sense will ne'er accommodate His master thus.] I read: “The saner sense will ne'er accommodate “His master thus.” “Here is Lear, but he must be mad: his sound or sane senses would never suffer him to be thus disguised.” Johnson. I have no doubt but that safer was the poet's word. So, [as Mr. Jennens has remarked] in Measure for Measure: “Nor do I think the man of safe discretion “That does affect it.” Steevens. The safer sense seems to me to mean the eye-sight, which, says Edgar, will never more serve the unfortunate Lear so well, as those senses which Gloster has remaining will serve him, who is now returned to a right mind. The eye-sight is probably called the safer sense in allusion to our vulgar proverb, “seeing is believing.” Horace terms the eyes “oculi fideles.” Gloster afterwards laments the stiffness of his vile sense. Blakeway.

Note return to page 669 2&lblank; for coining;] So the quartos. Folio—for crying. Malone.

Note return to page 670 3There's your press-money.] It is evident from the whole of this speech, that Lear fancies himself in a battle: but, “There's your press-money” has not been properly explained. It means the money which was paid to soldiers when they were retained in the King's service: and it appears from some antient statutes, and particularly 7 Henry VII. c. l; and 3 Henry VIII. c. 5. that it was felony in any soldier to withdraw himself from the King's service after receipt of this money, without special leave. On the contrary, he was obliged at all times to hold himself in readiness. The term is from the French “prest,” ready. It is written prest in several places in King Henry VIIth's Book of household expences still preserved in the Exchequer. This may serve also to explain the following passage in Act V. Sc. II.: “And turn our imprest lances in our eyes;” and to correct Mr. Whalley's note in Hamlet, Act I. Sc. I.: “Why such impress of shipwrights?” Douce.

Note return to page 671 4That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper:] Mr. Pope, in his last edition, reads cow-keeper. It is certain we must read crow-keeper. In several counties, to this day, they call a stuffed figure, representing a man, and armed with a bow and arrow, set up to fright the crows from the fruit and corn, a crow-keeper, as well as a scare-crow. Theobald. This crow-keeper was so common in the author's time, that it is one of the few peculiarities mentioned by Ortelius, in his account of our island. Johnson. So, in the 48th Idea of Drayton:   “Or if thou'lt not thy archery forbear, “To some base rustick do thyself prefer;   “And when corn's sown, or grown into the ear, “Practise thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.” Mr. Tollet informs me, that Markham, in his Farewell to Husbandry, says, that such servants are called field-keepers, or crow-keepers. Steevens. So, in Bonduca, by Fletcher: “&lblank; Can these fight? They look “Like empty scabbards all; no mettle in them; “Like men of clouts, set to keep crows from orchards.” See also Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. IV. Malone. The following curious passage in Latimer's Fruitful Sermons, 1584, fol. 69, will show how indispensable was practice to enable an archer to handle his bow skilfully: “In my time (says the good bishop) my poor father was diligent to teach me to shoote, as to learne me any other thing, and so I thinke other men did their children. He taught me how to draw, howe to lay my body in my bow, and not to drawe with strength of armes as other nations doe, but with strength of the bodye. I had my bowes bought me according to my age and strength: as I encreased in them, so my bowes were made bigger and bigger: for men shall neuer shoote well, except they be brought up in it.” Holt White. The notes on this passage serve only to identify the character of a crow-keeper; but the comparison still remains to be explained. On this occasion, we must consult our sole preceptor in the manly and too much neglected science of archery, the venerable Ascham. In speaking of awkward shooters, he says, “Another cowreth downe, and layeth out his buttockes as thoughe hee should shoote at crowes.” Douce.

Note return to page 672 5&lblank; draw me a clothier's yard.] Perhaps the poet had in his mind a stanza of the old ballad of Chevy-Chace: “An arrow of a cloth-yard long,   “Up to the head drew he,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 673 6&lblank; the brown bills.] A bill was a kind of battle-axe, affixed to a long staff: “Which is the constable's house?— “At the sign of the brown bill.” Blurt Mr. Constable, 1602. Again, in Marlowe's King Edward II. 1622: “Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes, “Brown bills, and targetiers,” &c. Steevens. See vol. vii. p. 87. Malone.

Note return to page 674 7O, well flown, bird!—i' the clout, &c.] Lear is here raving of archery, and shooting at buts, as is plain by the words “i' the clout,” that is, the white mark they set up and aim at: hence the phrase, to hit the white. Warburton. So, in The Two Maids of Moreclacke, 1609: “Change your mark, shoot at a white; come stick me in the clout, sir.” Again, in Tamburlaine, &c. 1590: “For kings are clouts that every man shoots at.” Again, in How to Choose A Good Wife from A Bad One, 1602: “&lblank; who could miss the clout, “Having such steady aim &lblank;?” Mr. Heath thinks there can be no impropriety in calling an arrow a bird, from the swiftness of its flight, especially when immediately preceded by the words well-flown: but it appears that well-flown bird, was the falconer's expression when the hawk was successful in her flight; and is so used in A Woman Killed With Kindness. Steevens. The quartos read—“O, well flown bird in the ayre, hugh, give the word.” Malone.

Note return to page 675 8&lblank; Give the word.] Lear supposes himself in a garrison, and before he lets Edgar pass, requires the watch-word. Johnson.

Note return to page 676 9Ha! Goneril!—with a white beard!] So reads the folio, properly: the quarto, whom the latter editors have followed, has, “Ha! Goneril, ha! Regan! they flattered me,” &c. which is not so forcible. Johnson.

Note return to page 677 1They flatter'd me like a dog;] They played the spaniel to me. Johnson.

Note return to page 678 2&lblank; and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there.] They told me that I had the wisdom of age, before I had attained to manhood. Malone.

Note return to page 679 3When the rain came to wet me, &c.] This seems to be an allusion to King Canute's behaviour when his courtiers flattered him as lord of the sea. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 4The trick of that voice—] “Trick (says Sir Thomas Hanmer) is a word frequently used for the air, or that peculiarity in a face, voice, or gesture, which distinguishes it from others.” We still say, “He has a trick of winking with his eyes, of speaking loud,” &c. Steevens. So, in K. John, Act I. Sc. I.: “He hath a trick of Cœur-de-lion's face.” See note on that passage. Malone.

Note return to page 681 5Ay, every inch a king: When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes.] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Who, like a king perplexed in his throne, “By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, “Whereat each tributary subject quakes.” Malone.

Note return to page 682 6To't, luxury, &c.] Luxury was the ancient appropriate term for incontinence. See Mr. Collin's note on Troilus and Cressida, Act V. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 683 7Whose face between her forks—] The construction is not “whose face between her forks,” &c. but “whose face presageth snow between her forks.” So, in Timon, Act IV. Sc. III.: “Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow   “That lies on Dian's lap.” Edwards. To preserve the modesty of Mr. Edwards's happy explanation, I can only hint a reference to the word fourcheure in Cotgrave's Dictionary. Steevens.

Note return to page 684 8That minces virtue,] Whose virtue consists in appearance only; in an affected delicacy and prudery: who is as nice and squeamish in talking of virtue and of the frailer part of her sex, as a lady who walks mincingly along: “&lblank; and turn two mincing steps “Into a manly stride.” Merchant of Venice. Malone. This is a passage which I shall not venture to explain further than by recommending a reconsideration of the passage, quoted by Mr. Malone, from the Merchant of Venice. Steevens.

Note return to page 685 9The fitchew,] A polecat. Pope.

Note return to page 686 1&lblank; nor the soiled horse,] Soiled horse is a term used for a horse that has been fed with hay and corn in the stable during the winter, and is turned out in the spring to take the first flush of grass, or has it cut and carried in to him. This at once cleanses the animal, and fills him with blood. Steevens.

Note return to page 687 2Down from the waist they are centaurs,] In The Malcontent is a thought as singular as this: “'Tis now about the immodest waist of night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 3But to the girdle, &c.] To inherit in Shakspeare is, to possess. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; the great globe itself, “Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve.” But is here used for only. Malone.

Note return to page 689 “But to the girdle do the gods inherit; “Beneath is all the friend's.” My friend Charles Warren, Esq. Chief Justice of Chester, pointed out to me the following curious illustration of this doctrine in Jortin's Remarks on Ecclesiastical History. “The Manichæans gave to each man two souls, the one a good, the other a bad one. Clemens Alexandrinus mentions an odd and ridiculous notion held by some Heretics, that God made man down to the navel, and that the rest of him was made by another power. &gres;&grn;&grt;&gre;&gric;&grq;&gre;&grn; &grasa;&grl;&grl;&gro;&gri; &grt;&gri;&grn;&greg;&grst; &grk;&gri;&grn;&grh;&grq;&grea;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grm;&gri;&grk;&grr;&gro;&grig; &grk;&gra;&grig; &gro;&grus;&grt;&gri;&grd;&gra;&grn;&gro;&grig; &grt;&grog;&grn; &grasa;&grn;&grq;&grr;&grw;&grp;&gro;&grn; &grur;&grp;&grog; &grd;&gri;&gra;&grf;&groa;&grr;&grw;&grn; &grd;&gru;&grn;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grw;&grn; &grp;&grl;&gra;&grs;&grq;&grhc;&grn;&gra;&gri; &grl;&grea;&grg;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gri;, &grk;&gra;&grig; &grt;&grag; &grm;&greg;&grn; &grm;&grea;&grx;&grr;&gri;&grst; &gros;&grm;&grf;&gra;&grl;&gro;&gruc; &grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grd;&gre;&grs;&grt;&grea;&grr;&gra;&grst; &grt;&grea;&grx;&grn;&grh;&grst; &gre;&grisc;&grn;&gra;&gri;&grcolon; &grt;&grag; &gresa;&grn;&gre;&grr;&grq;&gre; &grd;&greg;, &grt;&grh;&grst; &grhra;&grt;&grt;&gro;&grn;&gro;&grs;+ &gro;&grurc; &grd;&grhg; &grx;&graa;&grr;&gri;&grn;, &gros;&grr;&grea;&grg;&gre;&grs;&grq;&gra;&gri; &grs;&gru;&grn;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gria;&gra;&grst;. Hinc moti aliqui alii, pusilli et nullius pretii, dicunt formatum fuisse hominem a diversis potestatibus: et quæ sunt quidem usque ad umbilicum, esse artis divinioris; quæ autem subter, minoris: qua de caussa coitum quoque appetere. Strom. iii. p. 526. Theodoret says that the Eunomians, as well as the Marcionites, held that there were two Principles, and that the lower parts of the human body came from the Evil Principle. He probably misrepresents the Eunomians, for what hath Arianism to do with Manichæism? Eunomius was an Arian indeed, and the Father of an Arian sect; yet as far as we can judge from his writings, some of which are still extant and have escaped burning, he was no more a Manichæan than Epiphanius, or Athanasius, or Jerom, or Theodoret. “‘Theodoritus l. iv. Hæreticarum fabularum cap. 3. inter alia Eunomianis tribuit, quod et ipsi cum Marcione duo rerum principia, malum et bonum, statuerint, et inferiores partes a malo principio ortas, et hinc non totum baptizandum esse hominem docuerint. Cui congruit quod S. Ambrosius Eunomianos jungit Marcionistis, l. i. de officiis c. 2. ad quem locum conferendæ notæ Monachor. Benedictin. tom. ii. p. 31. Fabricius Bibl. Gr. viii. 251. “‘Eunomius ritus baptismi immutavit, qua de re accusatum fuisse fatetur Philostorgius. Testis potentissimus mutationis est Epiphanius: Qui jam baptizati sunt, iterum baptizat Eunomius, non modo qui a Catholicis, aut ab aliis hæresibus, sed eos etiam qui ab ipsismet Arianis deficiunt. Repetiti porro illius baptismatis ea formula est, ‘In nomine Dei increati, et in nomine Filii creati, et in nomine Spiritû sanctificantis, et a creato Filio procreati.’ Aliam tamen adhibuisse formulam in Theodorito legimus: Dicit non oportere ter immergere eum qui baptizatur, nec Trinitatem invocare, sed semel baptizare in mortem Christi. Risune an lacrimis prosequenda, quæ de Eunomiani baptismi ritibus a Veteribus sunt memoriæ mandata? Epiphanius: Sunt qui narrent, quotquot ab iis denuo baptizantur in caput demergi, pedibus in sublime porrectis, et sic jusjurandum adigi, nunquam se ab illius hæresi discessuros. Observat et Nicetas: Longissimâ fasciâ, eum in usum paratâ consecratâque, hominem a pectore, usque ad extremos pedum articulos involvebant, tum deinde superiores corporis partes aqua proluebant. Cujus ritus causa hæc fuit, quod inferioribus corporis partibus pollui aquam arbitrabantur. Tantum superstitio potuit suadere malorum! Baptizatos ad pectus usque aqua madefaciunt, inquit Theodoritus, reliquis autem partibus corporis, tanquam abominandis, aquam adhibere prohibent. Discipulis Eunomii Ecclesias visitare moris non erat. Omnes sectatores ejus Basilicas Apostolorum et Martyrum non ingrediuntur, ut scilicet mortuum adorent Eunomium, cujus libros majores authoritatis arbitrantur quam Evangelia. Hieronymus. Neque castiores doctrinâ mores fuere, si vera de Ætio prædicat Epiphanius: Cum quidam ob stuprum feminæ illatum accusarentur, et ab aliis damnarentur, nihil illum commotum: sed factum risu et ludibrio prosequentem dixisse, Nullius hoc esse momenti: corporis enim hanc esse necessitatem.’ S. Basnage Ann. ii. 861. “Observe that the testimonies of Epiphanius and of Theodoret, concerning the form of Eunomian baptism, contradict each other. We may suppose that the Eunomians used only one immersion, or rather superinfusion, and that they baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, as they were plainly directed to do by the Scriptures, to which they paid as much regard as the Consubstantialists. “When Epiphanius says of their baptism, sunt qui narrent, we may be sure that proofs ran very low with him. “The Eunomians seem to have been of opinion that it was not necessary for persons to be plunged all over in water, and that it was not decent for them to be stripped at the performance of this religious rite. They therefore only uncovered them to the breast, and then poured water upon their heads. This was enough to give their adversaries a pretext, though a poor one, to calumniate them, and to call them Manichæans, and to charge them with holding that the lower parts of the body were made by the Devil.”

Note return to page 690 4Beneath is all the fiends';] According to Grecian superstition, every limb of us was consigned to the charge of some particular deity. Gower, De Confessione Amantis, enlarges much on it, and concludes by saying: “And Venus through the letcherie “For whiche thei hir deifie, “She kept all doune the remenant “To thilke office appertainant.” Collins. In the old copies the preceding as well as the latter part of Lear's speech is printed as prose. I doubt much whether any part of it was intended for metre. Malone.

Note return to page 691 *Quartos, sulphury.

Note return to page 692 5&lblank; there is the sulphurous pit, &c.] Perhaps these lines should be regulated as follows: “There is the sulphurous pit, stench, burning, scalding, “Consumption: fye, fye, fye! pah! pah! pah! “An ounce of civet,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 693 †Quartos, Here wipe it first.

Note return to page 694 6Dost thou squiny at me?] To squiny is to look asquint. The word is used by our poet's fellow-comedian, Robert Armin, in A Nest of Ninnies, &c. 4to. 1609: “The world—squinies at this, and looks as one scorning.” Malone.

Note return to page 695 7What, with the case of eyes?] Mr. Rowe changed the into this, but without necessity. I have restored the old reading. The case of eyes is the socket of either eye. Statius in his first Thebaid, has a similar expression. Speaking of Œdipus he says:   Tunc vacuos orbes crudum ac miserabile vitæ   Supplicium, ostentat cœlo, manibusque cruentis   Pulsat inane solum. Inane solum, i. e. vacui oculorum loci. Shakspeare has the expression again in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes.” Steevens. In Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609, we have the same expression: “&lblank; her eyes as jewel-like, “And cas'd as richly.” Again, ibidem: “Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels “Which Pericles hath lost, “Begin to part their fringes of bright gold.” This could not have been the author's word; for “this case of eyes” in the language of his time signified—this pair of eyes, a sense directly opposite to that intended to be conveyed. Malone.

Note return to page 696 8Change places; and, handy-dandy,] The words change places, and, are not in the quartos. Handy-dandy is, I believe, a play among children, in which something is shaken between two hands, and then a guess is made in which hand it is retained. See Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Bazzicchiare. To shake between two hands; to play handy-dandy.” Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders “to play handy-dandy,” by digitis micare; and he is followed by Ainsworth; but they appear to have been mistaken; as is Dr. Johnson in his definition in his Dictionary, which seems to have been formed on the passage before us, misunderstood. He says, Handy-dandy is “a play in which children change hands and places.” Malone.

Note return to page 697 9Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all.] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Hiding base sin in pleats of majesty.” Malone. From hide all to accuser's lips, the whole passage is wanting in the first edition, being added, I suppose, at his revisal. Johnson.

Note return to page 698 1Plate sin &lblank;] The old copies read—Place sin. Mr. Pope made the correction. Malone. So, in King Richard II.: “Thus plated in habiliments of war.” Steevens.

Note return to page 699 2&lblank; I'll able 'em:] An old phrase signifying to qualify, or uphold them. So Scogan, contemporary with Chaucer, says: “Set all my life after thyne ordinaunce, “And able me to mercie or thou deme.” Warburton. So Chapman, in his comedy of The Widow's Tears, 1612: “Admitted! ay, into her heart, and I'll able it.” Again, in his version of the 23d Iliad: “&lblank; I'll able this “For five revolved years &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 700 3Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry: Vagituque locum lugubri complet, ut æquum est Cui tantum in vitâ restat transire malorum. Lucretius. Thus also, in Sydney's Arcadia, lib. ii.: “The childe feeles that, the man that feeling knowes, “Which cries first borne, the presage of his life,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 701 4&lblank; This a good block?] Perhaps, we should read— “'Tis a good block.” Ritson. Upon the king's saying, I will preach to thee, the poet seems to have meant him to pull off his hat, and keep turning it and feeling it, in the attitude of one of the preachers of those times, (whom I have seen so represented in ancient prints,) till the idea of felt, which the good hat or block was made of, raises the stratagem in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with a substance soft as that which he held and moulded between his hands. This makes him start from his preachment.—Block anciently signified the head part of the hat, or the thing on which a hat is formed, and sometimes the hat itself.—See Much Ado About Nothing: “He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it changes with the next block.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at Several Weapons: “I am so haunted with this broad-brim'd hat “Of the last progress block, with the young hatband.” Again, in The Two Merry Milkmaids, 1620: “&lblank; my haberdasher has a new block, and will find me and all my generation in beavers,” &c. Again, in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; that cannot observe the time of his hatband, nor know what fashioned block is most kin to his head: for in my opinion, the braine that cannot chuse his felt well,” &c. Again, in The Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, by Decker, 1606: “&lblank; The blocke for his head alters faster than the felt-maker can fitte him.” Again, in Run and a Great Cast, an ancient collection of Epigrams, 4to. without date, Epigram 46. In Sextinum: “A pretty blocke Sextinus names his hat; “So much the fitter for his head by that.” Steevens.

Note return to page 702 5It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe A troop of horse with felt:] i. e. with flocks kneaded to a mass, a practice I believe sometimes used in former ages, for it is mentioned in Ariosto: &lblank; fece nel cadar strepito quanto Avesse avuto sotto i piedi il feltro. Johnson. Shakspeare however might have adopted the stratagem of shoeing a troop of horse with felt, from the following passage in Fenton's Tragicall Discourses, 4to. bl. l. 1567: “&lblank; he attyreth himselfe for the purpose in a night-gowne girt to hym, with a paire of shoes of felte, leaste the noyse of his feete shoulde discover his goinge.” P. 58. Again, in Hay any Worke for a Cooper, an ancient pamphlet, no date: “Their adversaries are very eager: the saints in heaven have felt o' their tongues,” Steevens. This “delicate stratagem” had actually been put in practice about fifty years before Shakspeare was born, as we learn from Lord Herbert's Life of Henry the Eighth, p. 41. “And now,” says that historian, “having feasted the ladies royally for divers dayes, he [Henry] departed from Tournay to Lisle, [Oct. 13, 1513,] whither he was invited by the Lady Margaret, who caused there a juste to be held in an extraordinary manner; the place being a fore-room raised high from the ground by many steps, and paved with black square stones like marble; while the horses, to prevent sliding, were shod with felt or flocks (the Latin words are feltro sive tomento): after which the ladies danced all night.” Malone.

Note return to page 703 6Then, kill, kill, &c.] This was formerly the word given in the English army, when an onset was made on the enemy. So, in Venus and Adonis: “Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, “And in a peaceful hour doth cry, kill, kill.” Again, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1610, p. 315: “For while the Frenchmen fresk assaulted still,   “Our Englishmen came boldly forth at night, “Crying St. George, Salisbury, kill, kill,   “And offered freshly with their foes to fight.” Malone.

Note return to page 704 7The natural fool of fortune.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O, I am fortune's fool!” Steevens.

Note return to page 705 8&lblank; a man of salt,] “A man of salt” is ‘a man of tears.’ In All's Well that Ends Well, we meet with—“your salt tears' head;” and in Troilus and Cressida, “the salt of broken tears.” Again, in Coriolanus: “He has betray'd your business, and given up “For certain drops of salt, your city Rome.” Malone.

Note return to page 706 9Ay, and for laying autumn's dust.] These words are not in the folio. Malone. For the sake of metre, I have here repeated the preposition— for, which appears to have been accidentally omitted in the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 707 1Gent. Good sir,] These words I have restored from one of the quartos. In the other, they are omitted. The folio reads: “&lblank; a smug bridegroom &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 708 2Then there's life in it.] The case is not yet desperate. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “There's sap in't yet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 709 3Nay, an you get it, &c.] Does not this passage seem to prove that “sessa, let him trot by,” means the very reverse of cessez. See p. 156 and p. 176. Boswell.

Note return to page 710 4&lblank; the main descry Stands on the hourly thought.] The main body is expected to be descry'd every hour. The expression is harsh. Johnson.

Note return to page 711 5&lblank; my worser spirit &lblank;] By this expression may be meant— “my evil genius.” Steevens.

Note return to page 712 5&lblank; made tame by fortune's blows.] So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Taming my wild heart to thy gentle hand.” The quartos read: “&lblank; made lame by fortune's blows.” Steevens. I believe the original is here, as in many other places, the true reading. So, in our poet's 37th Sonnet: “So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spight &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 713 6Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,] i. e. Sorrows past and present. Warburton. Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco. I doubt whether feeling is not used, with our poet's usual licence, for felt. Sorrows known, not by relation, but by experience. Malone.

Note return to page 714 7Briefly thyself remember:] i. e. Quickly recollect the past offences of thy life, and recommend thyself to heaven. Warburton. So Othello says to Desdemona: “If you bethink yourself of any crime, “Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, “Solicit for it straight.” Malone.

Note return to page 715 8&lblank; go your gait,] Gang your gait is a common expression in the North. In the last rebellion, when the Scotch soldiers had finished their exercise, instead of our term of dismission, their phrase was, “gang your gaits.” Steevens.

Note return to page 716 9&lblank; che vor'ye,] I warn you. Edgar counterfeits the western dialect. Johnson. When our ancient writers have occasion to introduce a rustick, they commonly allot him this Somersetshire dialect. Mercury, in the second book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, assumes the appearance of a clown, and our translator Golding has made him speak with the provinciality of Shakspeare's Edgar. Steevens.

Note return to page 717 1&lblank; your costard &lblank;] Costard, i. e. head. So, in King Richard III.: “Take him over the costard with the hilt of thy sword.” Steevens.

Note return to page 718 *So quarto B; quartos A and C, battero; first folio, ballow.

Note return to page 719 2&lblank; my bat &lblank;] i. e. club. So, in Spenser: “&lblank; a handsome bat he held, “On which he leaned, as one far in eld.” Again, in Mucedorus, 1598: “With this my bat I will beat out thy brains.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “&lblank; let every thing be ready, “And each of you a good bat on his neck.” Steevens. Rather, in this place, a staff. In Sussex a walking-stick is called a bat. Bats and clubs are distinguished in Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. I.: “Where go you with bats and clubs.” Holt White.

Note return to page 720 3&lblank; no matter vor your foins,] To foin, is to make what we call a thrust in fencing. Shakspeare often uses the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 4To Edmund earl of Gloster;] Mr. Smith has endeavoured, without any success, to prove, in a long note, that we ought to read—letter both here and below, because the Steward had only one letter in his pocket, namely, that written by Goneril. But there is no need of change, for letters formerly was used like epistolæ in Latin, when one only was intended. So, in Act I. Sc. V. Lear says to Kent, “Go, you, before to Gloster, with these letters;” and Kent replies, “I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter.” Again, in Act IV. Sc. V. the Steward says to Regan, “I must needs after him, madam, with my letters,” meaning only Goneril's letter, which Edgar presently reads. Such, as I observed on that passage, is the reading of the original quarto copies, which in the folio is changed to letter. Whether the Steward had also a letter from Regan, it is not here necessary to inquire. The words which he uses do not, for the reason I have assigned, necessarily imply two letters; and as Edgar finds no letter from Regan, we may infer that when she said to the Steward, in a former scene, “take thou this,” she gave him a ring or some other token of regard for Edmund, and not a letter. Malone.

Note return to page 722 5He had no other death's-man.] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “For who so base would such an office have “As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave.” Malone.

Note return to page 723 6To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts; Their papers, is more lawful.] This is darkly expressed: the meaning is, ‘Our enemies are put upon the rack, and torn in pieces to extort confession of their secrets: to tear open their letters is more lawful.’ Warburton. “&lblank; we'd rip &lblank;.” Thus the quartos. The folio reads—we rip. The editor of the second folio imagining that papers was the nominative case, for is substituted are: “Their papers are more lawful.” But the construction is,—“to rip their papers, is more lawful.” His alteration, however, has been adopted by the modern editors. Malone.

Note return to page 724 7&lblank; affectionate servant,] After servant, one of the quartos [quarto A and C,] has this strange continuation: “&lblank; and for you her owne for venter, Gonerill.” Steevens. In this place I have followed quarto B. The others read— “Your (wife, so I would say) your affectionate servant; and adds the words mentioned by Mr. Steevens. The folio, reads— “Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, Gonerill.” Malone.

Note return to page 725 7O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!] Thus the folio. The quartos read—of woman's wit! The meaning (says Dr. Warburton in Sir Thomas Hanmer's edition,) is, “The variations in a woman's will are so sudden, and their liking and loathing follow so quick upon each other, that there is no distinguishable space between them.” Malone. I believe the plain meaning is—“O undistinguishing licentiousness of a woman's inclinations!” Steevens. This is a very good meaning, I admit: but how can it be deduced from the words in the text, unless space can be considered as synonymous with licentiousness. Malone.

Note return to page 726 8Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified, &c.] I'll cover thee. In Staffordshire, to rake the fire, is to cover it with fuel for the night. Johnson. The epithet, unsanctified, refers to his want of burial in consecrated ground. Steevens.

Note return to page 727 9&lblank; the death-practis'd duke:] The duke of Albany, whose death is machinated by practice or treason. Johnson.

Note return to page 728 1&lblank; and have ingenious feeling &lblank;] Ingenious feeling signifies a feeling from an understanding not disturbed or disordered, but which, representing things as they are, makes the sense of pain the more exquisite. Warburton.

Note return to page 729 2&lblank; sever'd &lblank;] The quartos read fenced. Steevens.

Note return to page 730 3&lblank; Physician, Gentleman, &c.] In the quartos the direction is, “Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Doctor,” omitting by negligence the Gentleman, who yet in those copies is a speaker in the course of the scene, and remains with Kent, when the rest go out. In the folio, the direction is, “Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman;” to the latter of whom all the speeches are given, which in the original copies are divided between the Physician and the Gentleman. I suppose, from a penury of actors, it was found convenient to unite the two characters, which, we see, were originally distinct. Cordelia's words, however, might have taught the editor of the folio to have given the Gentleman whom he retained the appellation of Doctor: “Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed “I' the sway of your own will.” Malone.

Note return to page 731 4&lblank; every measure fail me.] All good which I shall allot thee, or measure out to thee, will be scanty. Johnson.

Note return to page 732 5Be better suited:] i. e. Be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes. Steevens.

Note return to page 733 6These weeds are memories of those worser hours;] Memories, i. e. Memorials, remembrancers. Shakspeare uses the word in the same sense, As You Like It, Act II. Sc. III.: “O, my sweet master! O you memory “Of old Sir Rowland!” Steevens. So, in Stowe's Survey of London, 1618:—“A printed memorie hanging up in a table at the entrance into the church-door.” Malone.

Note return to page 734 7&lblank; my made intent:] There is a dissonancy of terms in made intent; one implying the idea of a thing done, the other, undone. I suppose Shakspeare wrote—laid intent; i. e. projected. Warburton. An intent made, is an intent formed. So we say in common language, to make a design, and to make a resolution. Johnson.

Note return to page 735 *Quarto, hurrying.

Note return to page 736 8Of this child-changed father!] That is, changed by his children; a father, whose jarring senses have been untuned by the monstrous ingratitude of his daughters. So, care-craz'd, crazed by care; wave-worn, worn by the waves: woe-wearied, harassed by woe, &c. Malone. “Of this child-changed father!” i. e. Changed to a child by his years and wrongs; or perhaps, reduced to this condition by his children. Steevens. Lear is become insane, and this is the change referred to. Insanity is not the property of second childhood, but dotage. Consonant to this explanation is what Cordelia almost immediately adds: “O my dear father! Restoration, hang “Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss “Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters “Have in thy reverence made!” Henley.

Note return to page 737 9Ay, madam, &c.] The folio gives these four lines to a Gentleman. One of the quartos [quarto B,] gives the two first to the Doctor, and the two next to Kent. The other quarto [quartos A and C,] appropriates the two first to the Doctor, and the two following ones to a Gentleman. I have given the two first, which best belong to an attendant, to the Gentleman in waiting, and the other two to the Physician, on account of the caution contained in them, which is more suitable to his profession. Steevens. In the folio the Gentleman and (as he is here called) the Physician, is one and the same person. Ritson.

Note return to page 738 *First folio omits his.

Note return to page 739 1Very well.] This and the following line I have restored from the quartos, Steevens.

Note return to page 740 2&lblank; Louder the musick there.] I have already observed, that Shakspeare considered soft musick as favourable to sleep. See Love's Labour's Lost, vol. iv. p. 387, Lear, we may suppose, had been thus composed to rest; and now the Physician desires louder musick to be played, for the purpose of waking him. So again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609, Cerimon, to recover Thaisa, who had been thrown into the sea, says— “The rough and woeful musick that we have, “Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “Musick awake her; strike!” Malone.

Note return to page 741 3&lblank; Restoration, hang Thy medicine on my lips;] This is fine. She invokes the goddess of health, Hygeiia, under the name of Restoration, to make her the minister of her rites, in this holy office of recovering her father's lost senses. Warburton. Restoration is no more than recovery personified. Steevens.

Note return to page 742 *First folio, opposed.

Note return to page 743 4[To stand, &c.] The lines within crotchets are omitted in the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 744 5&lblank; to watch (poor perdu!) With this thin helm?] The allusion is to the forlorn-hope in an army, which are put upon desperate adventures, and called in French enfans perdus. These enfans perdus being always slightly and badly armed, is the reason that she adds, “With this thin helm?” i. e. bare-headed. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's explanation of the word perdu is just, though the latter part of his assertion has not the least foundation. Paulus Jovius, speaking of the body of men who were anciently sent on this desperate adventure, says: “Hos ab immoderatâ fortitudine perditos vocant, et in summo honore atque admiratione habent.” It is not likely that those who deserved so well of their country for exposing themselves to certain danger, should be sent out, summâ admiratione, and yet slightly and badly armed. The same allusion occurs in Sir W. Davenant's Love and Honour, 1649: “&lblank; I have endur'd “Another night would tire a perdu, “More than a wet furrow and a great frost.” Again, in Cartwright's Ordinary: “&lblank; as for perdues, “Some choice sous'd fish, brought couchant in a dish “Among some fennel or some other grass, “Shows how they lye i' th' field.” Steevens. In Polemon's Collection of Battels, 4to. bl. l. printed by Bynneman, p. 98, an account of the battle of Marignano is translated from Jovius, in which is the following passage:—“They were very chosen fellowes taken out of all the Cantons, men in the prime of youth, and of singular forwardenesse: who by a very auntient order of that country, that by dooyng some deede of passyng prowesse they may obtaine rare honour of warrefare before they be growen in yeares, doe of themselves request all perillous and harde pieces of service, and often use with deadlye praise to runne unto proposed death. These men do they call, of their immoderate fortitude and stoutnesse, the desperats forlorne hopen, and the Frenchmen enfans perdus: and it is lawfull for them, by the prerogative of their prowesse, to beare an ensigne, to have conducte and double wages all their life long. Neyther are the forlorne knowen from the rest by anye other marke and cognisance than the plumes of white feathers, the which, after the manner of captaines, they doe tourn behinde, waveryng over theyr shoulder with a brave kynde of riot.” Again, in Bacon's Apology, touching the late Earl of Essex, 12mo. 1651, p. 105: “&lblank; you have put me like one of those that the Frenchmen call Enfans perdus that serve on foot before horsemen.” Reed. Amongst other desperate services in which the forlorn hope or enfans perdus, were engaged, the night-watches seem to have been a common one. So, Beaumont and Fletcher: “I am set here like a perdu, “To watch a fellow that has wrong'd my mistress.” Little French Lawyer, Act II. Sc. II. Whalley. “With this thin helm?” With this thin covering of hair. Malone.

Note return to page 745 6&lblank; Mine enemy's dog,] Thus the folio. Both the quartos read, “Mine injurious dog.” Possibly the poet wrote—“Mine injurer's dog.” Steevens. Gloster has before expressed the same sentiment perhaps still more strongly, p. 185. “If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, “Thou should'st have said, good porter turn the key; “All cruels else subscribed.” Boswell.

Note return to page 746 7Had not concluded all.] It is wonder that thy wits and life had not all ended. Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, c. viii.: “Ne spared they to strip her naked all.” Again, in Timon: “And disposses her all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 747 8I am mightily abus'd.] I am strangely imposed on by appearances; I am in a strange mist of uncertainty. Johnson.

Note return to page 748 9No, sir, you must not kneel.] This circumstance I find in the old play on the same subject, apparently written by another hand, and published before any edition of Shakspeare's tragedy had made its appearance. As it is always difficult to say whether such accidental resemblances proceed from imitation, or a similarity of thinking on the same occasion, I can only point out this to the reader, to whose determination I leave the question. Steevens. The words, No, sir, are not in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 749 1Pray, do not mock me:] So, in The Winter's Tale, Act V.: “&lblank; Let no man mock me, “For I will kiss her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 750 2Fourscore and upward;] Thus the quartos. The folio absurdly adds “Not an hour more or less,” i. e. not an hour more or less than an indeterminate number, for such is fourscore and upward. Fourscore seems to have been used proverbially for old age. See vol. viii. p. 106. Malone. The authenticity of this passage Sir Joshua Reynolds justly suspects. It was probably the interpolation of some player, and is better omitted, both in regard to sense and versification. Steevens. The words not an hour more or less, are judiciously reprobated by Mr. Steevens as the interpolation of some foolish player. We should therefore read [as Mr. Heath proposed]: “Fourscore, and upward; and, to deal plainly with you.” Ritson.

Note return to page 751 3I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.] The quarto reads: “I fear, I am not perfect in my mind.” Johnson. So one of the quartos, [quarto B.] The other, [quartos A and C,] reads according to the present text. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 4&lblank; is cur'd &lblank;] Thus the quartos. The folio reads: “&lblank; is kill'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 753 5&lblank; [and yet &c.] This is not in the folio. Johnson. And in the quartos, this speech, and the remainder of the scene, excepting the last two lines, are printed as prose. Boswell.

Note return to page 754 6To make him even o'er the time he has lost.] i. e. To reconcile it to his apprehension. Warburton. The uncommon verb—to even, occurs again in Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. IV.: “There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even “All that good time will give us.” The meaning there seems to be, we will fully employ all the time we have. So here the Physician says, that it is dangerous to draw from Lear a full relation of all that he felt or suffered while his reason was disturbed; to make him employ as much time in the recital of what has befallen him as passed during his state of insanity. Malone. I believe, Dr. Warburton's explanation is just. The poor old king had nothing to tell, though he had much to hear. The speaker's meaning therefore I conceive to be—it is dangerous to render all that passed during the interval of his insanity, even (i. e. plain or level,) to his understanding, while it continues in its present state of uncertainty. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 7Holds it true, sir,] What is printed in crotchets is not in the folio. It is at least proper, if not necessary; and was omitted by the author, I suppose, for no other reason than to shorten the representation. Johnson. It is much more probable, that it was omitted by the players, after the author's departure from the stage, without consulting him. His plays have been long exhibited with similar omissions, which render them often perfectly unintelligible. Malone.

Note return to page 756 8&lblank; of alteration,] One of the quartos reads &lblank; “&lblank; of abdication.” Steevens.

Note return to page 757 9&lblank; his constant pleasure.] His settled resolution. Johnson. So, before: “We have this hour a constant will,” &c. See p. 8, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 758 1But have you never, &c.] The first and last of these speeches, printed within crotchets, are inserted in Sir Thomas Hanmer's, Mr. Theobald's, and Dr. Warburton's editions; the two intermediate ones, which were omitted in all others, I have restored from the old quartos, 1608. Whether they were left out through negligence, or because the imagery contained in them might be thought too luxuriant, I cannot determine; but sure a material injury is done to the character of the Bastard by the omission; for he is made to deny that flatly at first, which the poet only meant to make him evade, or return slight answers to, till he is urged so far as to be obliged to shelter himself under an immediate falsehood. Query, however, whether Shakspeare meant us to believe that Edmund had actually found his way to the forefended place? Steevens.

Note return to page 759 2&lblank; forefended place?] Forefended means prohibited, forbidden. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “Now, heaven forefend! the holy maid with child?” Steevens.

Note return to page 760 3That thought abuses you.] That thought imposes on you: you are deceived. This speech and the next are found in both the quartos, but omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 761 4&lblank; bosom'd with her,] Bosom'd is used in this sense by Heywood, in The Fair Maid of the West, 1631: “We'll crown our hopes and wishes with more pomp “And sumptuous cost, than Priam did his son “That night he bosom'd Helen.” Again, in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “With fair Alcmena, she that never bosom'd “Mortal, save thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 762 5&lblank; [Where I could not &lblank;] What is within the crotchets is omitted in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 763 6&lblank; Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant:] This sentiment has already appeared in Cymbeline: “Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause, “But now thou seem'st a coward.” Again, in an ancient MS. play, entituled, The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “That worke is never undertooke with corage, “That makes his master blush.” Steevens.

Note return to page 764 7Not bolds the king;] The quartos read bolds, and this may be the true reading. “This business” (says Albany) “touches us as France invades our land, not as it bolds the king,” &c. i. e. emboldens him to assert his former title. Thus in the ancient interlude of Hycke Scorner: “Alas, that I had not one to bold me!” Again, in Arthur Hall's translation of the 4th Iliad, 4to. 1581: “And Pallas bolds the Greeks, and blames whom scar doth there dismay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 765 8Sir, this I hear, &lblank; [as far as to] &lblank; make oppose.] The meaning is, “the king and others whom we have opposed are come to Cordelia.” I could never be valiant but in a just quarrel. We must distinguish; it is just in one sense and unjust in another. As France invades our land I am concerned to repel him; but as he holds, entertains, and supports the king, and others whom I fear many just and heavy causes make, or compel, as it were, to oppose us, I esteem it unjust to engage against them. This speech, thus interpreted according to the common reading, is likewise very necessary: for otherwise Albany, who is characterised as a man of honour and observer of justice, gives no reason for going to war with those, whom he owns had been much injured under the countenance of his power. Warburton. The quartos read—“For this I hear,” &c. Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—“'Fore this, I hear, the king,” &c. Sir is the reading of the folio: Dr. Warburton has explained this passage, as if the copies read—“Not holds the king,” i. e. ‘not as he holds the king;’ but the quartos, in which alone the latter part of this speech is found, read—bolds. However, Dr. Warburton's interpretation may be right, as bolds may certainly have been a misprint for holds, in copies in which we find mov'd, for noble, (Act V. Sc. III.) O father, for O fault, (ibid.) the mistress of Hecate, for the mysteries of Hecate, (Act I. Sc. I.) blossoms for bosoms, Act V. Sc. III. a mistresses coward, for a mistresses command, Act IV. Sc. II. &c. &c. Malone.

Note return to page 766 9Sir, you speak nobly.] This reply must be understood ironically. Malone.

Note return to page 767 1For these domestick and particular broils &lblank;] This is the reading of the folio. The quartos have it— “For these domestick doore particulars.” Steevens. Doore, or dore, as quartos A and C have it, was probably a misprint for dear; i. e. important. Malone. Door particulars, signify, I believe, particulars at our very doors, close to us, and consequently fitter to be settled at home. Steevens.

Note return to page 768 2Are not to question here.] Thus the quartos. The folio reads— “Are not the question here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 769 3Edm.] This speech is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 770 4And machination ceases.] i. e. All designs against your life will have an end. Steevens. These words are not in the quartos. In the latter part of this line, for love, the reading of the original copies, the folio has loves. Malone.

Note return to page 771 *First folio, loves you.

Note return to page 772 5Here is the guess, &c.] The modern editors read, “Hard is the guess.” So the quartos. But had the discovery been diligent, the guess could not have proved so difficult. I have given the true reading from the folio. Steevens. The original reading is, I think, sufficiently clear. The most diligent inquiry does not enable me to form a conjecture concerning the true strength of the enemy. Whether we read hard or here, the adversative particle but in the subsequent line seems employed with little propriety. According to the present reading, it may mean, “but you are now so pressed in point of time, that you have little leisure for such speculations.” The quartos read— “their great strength.” Malone.

Note return to page 773 †Quartos, great.

Note return to page 774 6We will greet the time,] We will be ready to meet the occasion. Johnson.

Note return to page 775 7&lblank; carry out my side,] Bring my purpose to a successful issue, to completion. Side seems here to have the sense of the French word partie, in prendre partie, to take his resolution. Johnson. So, in The Honest Man's Fortune, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; and carry out “A world of evils with thy title.” Again, in one of the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 155: “Heydon's son hath borne out the side stoutly here,” &c. Steevens. The Bastard means, “I shall scarcely be able to make out my game.” The allusion is to a party at cards, and he is afraid that he shall not be able to make his side successful. So, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, Centaure says of Epicene— “She and Mavis will set up a side.” That is, will be partners. And in Massinger's Unnatural Combat, Belgard says: “&lblank; And if now “At this downright game, I may but hold your cards, “I'll not pull down the side.” In The Maid's Tragedy, the same expression occurs: “Dula. I'll hold your cards against any two I know. “Evad. Aspasia take her part. “Dula. I will refuse it; “She will pluck down a side, she does not use it.” But the phrase is still more clearly explained in Massinger's Great Duke of Florence, where Cozimo says to Petronella, who had challenged him to drink a second bowl of wine: “Pray you, pause a little; “If I hold your cards, I shall pull down the side; “I am not good at the game.” M. Mason. The same phrase has forced its way into Chapman's version of the fifth Iliad: “&lblank; thy body's powers are poor, “And therefore are thy troops so weak: the soldier evermore “Follows the temper of his chief; and thou pull'st down a side.” Steevens. Edmund, I think, means, hardly shall I be able to make my side, i. e. my party good; to maintain my cause. We should now say—“to bear out,” which Coles, in his Dictionary, 1679, interprets, “to make good, to save harmless.” Malone.

Note return to page 776 8&lblank; for my state Stands on me, &c.] I do not think that for stands, in this place, as a word of inference or causality. The meaning is, rather—“Such is my determination concerning Lear; as for my state it requires now, not deliberation, but defence and support.” Johnson.

Note return to page 777 9Enter Edgar, &c.] Those who are curious to know how far Shakspeare was here indebted to the Arcadia, will find a chapter from it entitled,—“The pitifull State and Storie of the Paphlagonian unkinde King, and his kinde Sonne; first related by the Sonne, then by the blind Father.” P. 141, edit. 1590, quarto, annexed to the conclusion of this play. Steevens.

Note return to page 778 *Quartos, bush.

Note return to page 779 1Ripeness is all:] i. e. To be ready, prepared, is all. The same sentiment occurs in Hamlet, scene the last: “&lblank; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 780 2And that's true too.] Omitted in the quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 781 3&lblank; to censure them.] i. e. to pass sentence or judgment on them. So, in Othello: “&lblank; To you, lord governor, “Remains the censure of this hellish villain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 782 4Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst.] i. e. the worst that fortune can indict. Malone.

Note return to page 783 5And take upon us the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies:] As if we were angels commissioned to survey and report the lives of men, and were consequently endowed with the power of prying into the original motives of action and the mysteries of conduct. Johnson.

Note return to page 784 6&lblank; packs and sects &lblank;] Packs is used for combinations or collections, as is a pack of cards. For sects, I think sets might be more commodiously read. So we say, “affairs are now managed by a new set.” Sects, however, may well stand. Johnson.

Note return to page 785 7Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense.] The thought is extremely noble, and expressed in a sublime of imagery that Seneca fell short of on the like occasion. “Ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod respiciat intentus operi suo deus: ecce par deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortuna compositus.” Warburton.

Note return to page 786 8&lblank; Have I caught thee?] “Have I caught my heavenly jewel,” is a line of one of Sir Philip Sidney's songs, which Shakspeare has put into Falstaff's mouth in The Merry Wives of Windsor. Malone. See vol. viii. p. 119, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 787 9And fire us hence, like foxes.] I have been informed that it is usual to smoke foxes out of their holes. So, in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, b. xxvii. stan. 17: “Ev'n as a foxe whom smoke and fire doth fright, “So as he dare not in the ground remaine, “Bolts out, and through the smoke and fire he flieth “Into the tarrier's mouth, and there he dieth.” Again, Every Man out of his Humour: “&lblank; my walk and all, “You smoke me from, as if I were a fox.” The same allusion occurs in our author's 44th Sonnet: “Till my bad angel fire my good one out.” Steevens. So, in Marlowe's King Edward II. 1598: “Advance your standard, Edward, in the field, “And march to fire them from their starting holes.” Mr. Upton, however, is of opinion that “the allusion is to the scriptural account of Samson's tying foxes, two and two together by the tail, and fastening a fire-brand to the cord; then letting them loose among the standing corn of the Philistines.” Judges xv. 4. The words—“shall bring a brand from heaven,” seem to favour Mr. Upton's conjecture. If it be right, the construction must be “they shall bring a brand from heaven, and, like foxes, fire us hence:” referring foxes, not to Lear and Cordelia, but to those who should separate them. Malone. The brands employed by Samson were not brought from heaven. I therefore prefer the common and more obvious explanation of the passage before us. Steevens.

Note return to page 788 1The goujeers shall devour them,] The goujeres, i. e. Morbus Gallicus. Gouge, Fr. signifies one of the common women attending a camp; and as that disease was first dispersed over Europe by the French army, and the women who followed it, the first name it obtained among us was the gougeries; i. e. the disease of the gouges. Hanmer. The resolute John Florio has sadly mistaken these goujeers. He writes “With a good yeare to thee!” and gives it in Italian, “Il mal anno che dio ti dia.” Farmer. Golding, in his version of the third book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, has fallen into the same error, or rather, the same mis-spelling. —Juno is the speaker: Perfeci quid enim toties per jurgia? dixit. which is thus anglicized, p. 35: “And what a good yeare have I wonne by scolding erst? she sed.” Steevens. The old copies have good yeares, the common corruption in Shakspeare's time of the other word. Sir T. Hanmer made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 789 2&lblank; flesh and fell,] Flesh and skin. Johnson. “&lblank; flesh and fell.” So, Skelton's works, p. 257: “Nakyd asyde, “Neither flesh nor fell.” Chaucer uses fell and bones for skin and bones: “And said that he and all his kinne at ones, “Were worthy to be brent with fell and bones.” Troilus and Cresseide. Grey. In The Dyar's Play, among the Chester Collection of Mysteries, in the Museum, Antichrist says: “I made thee, man, of flesh and fell.” Again, in The Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, &c. 1560: “This lesson heether to I kept, and shall here after kepe, “Tylle I to earthe retorne again where fleshe and fell must sleepe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 790 3Take thou this note;] This was a warrant, signed by the Bastard and Goneril, for the execution of Lear and Cordelia. In a subsequent scene Edmund says— “&lblank; quickly send, &lblank; “Be brief in't,—to the castle: for my writ “Is on the life of Lear, and of Cordelia:— “He hath commission from thy wife and me “To hang Cordelia in the prison.” Malone.

Note return to page 791 4&lblank; Thy great employment Will not bear question;] By great employment was meant the commission given him for the murder; and this, the Bastard tells us afterwards, was signed by Goneril and himself. Which was sufficient to make this captain unaccountable for the execution. Warburton. The important business which is now entrusted to your management, does not admit of debate: you must instantly resolve to do it, or not. Question, here, as in many other places, signifies discourse, conversation. Malone. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “You may as well use question with the wolf.” Steevens.

Note return to page 792 5I cannot draw, &c.] These two lines I have restored from the old quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 793 6We do require them of you;] So the folio. The quartos read: “We do require then of you so to use them.” Malone.

Note return to page 794 7&lblank; and appointed guard;] These words are from quarto B; they are omitted in quartos A and C, and in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 795 8And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes—] i. e. Turn the launcemen whom we have hired by giving them press-money, (See p. 224, n. 3,) against us. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. VII.: “&lblank; people, “Ingross'd by swift impress.” Impress, however, in this place, may possibly have its common signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 796 9&lblank; [At this time, &c.] This passage, well worthy of restoration, is omitted in the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 797 1Requires a fitter place.] i. e. The determination of the question what shall be done with Cordelia and her father, should be reserved for greater privacy. Steevens.

Note return to page 798 *Quartos, should.

Note return to page 799 2Bore the commission of &lblank;] Commission, for authority. Warburton.

Note return to page 800 3The which immediacy &lblank;] Immediacy is supremacy in opposition to subordination, which has quiddam medium between itself and power. Johnson. Immediacy here implies proximity without intervention; in rank, or such a plenary delegation of authority, as to constitute the person on whom it is conferred, “another self: alter et idem.” Henley. Immediacy is, I think, close and immediate connexion with me, and direct authority from me, without, to use Dr. Johnson's words, quiddam medium. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; let the world take note, “You are the most immediate to our throne.” Malone. Immediate is the reading of the quartos. Boswell.

Note return to page 801 4In his own grace &lblank;] Grace here means accomplishments, or honours. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “With all good grace to grace a gentleman.” Steevens.

Note return to page 802 5&lblank; in your advancement.] So the quartos. Folio—your addition. Malone.

Note return to page 803 6Gon. That were the most, if he should husband you.] If he were married to you, you could not say more than this, nor could he enjoy greater power.—Thus the quartos. In the folio this line is given to Albany. Malone.

Note return to page 804 7That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint.] Alluding to the proverb: “Love being jealous makes a good eye look asquint.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens. So Milton: “And gladly banish squint suspicion.” Comus. Holt White.

Note return to page 805 8&lblank; the walls are thine:] A metaphorical phrase taken from the camp, and signifying, to surrender at discretion. Warburton. A similar allusion occurs in Cymbeline: “The heavens hold firm the walls of thy dear honour.” Steevens. This line is not in the quartos. Boswell.

Note return to page 806 9The let-alone lies not in your good will.] Whether he shall not or shall, depends not on your choice. Johnson. Albany means to tell his wife, that, however she might want the power, she evidently did not want the inclination to prevent the match. Ritson. To obstruct their union lies not in your good pleasure: your veto will avail nothing. Malone.

Note return to page 807 1Reg. Let the drum strike, &c.] So the folio. This line is given to the Bastard in the quartos, and they read— “Let the drum strike, and prove my title good.” Regan, it appears from this speech, did not know that Albany had discharged her forces. Malone.

Note return to page 808 2&lblank; thy arrest,] The quartos read—thine attaint. Steevens.

Note return to page 809 3An interlude!] This short exclamation of Goneril is added in the folio edition, I suppose, only to break the speech of Albany, that the exhibition on the stage might be more distinct and intelligible. Johnson.

Note return to page 810 4&lblank; Let the trumpet sound:] These words are not in the quartos. Malone.

Note return to page 811 5&lblank; thy person,] The quartos read—thy head. Steevens.

Note return to page 812 6&lblank; poison.] The folio reads—medicine. Steevens.

Note return to page 813 7A herald, &c.] This speech I have restored from the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 814 8&lblank; thy single virtue;] i. e. valour; a Roman sense of the word. Thus Raleigh: “The conquest of Palestine with singular virtue they performed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 815 9Sound, trumpet.] I have added this from the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 816 1&lblank; within the lists of the army,] The quartos read— “within the host of the army—.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 2Edm. Sound.] Omitted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 818 3Ask him his purposes, why he appears, &c.] This is according to the ceremonials of the trial by combat in cases criminal. “The appellant and his procurator first come to the gate . . . . The constable and marshall demand by voice of herald, what he is and why he comes so arrayed.” Selden's Duello. Blakeway.

Note return to page 819 4Yet am I noble, &c.] One of the quartos [quarto A,] reads: “&lblank; yet are I mou't, “Where is the adversarie I come to cope withal?” “&lblank; are I mou't,” is, I suppose, [as Mr. Jennens has remarked,] a corruption of—‘ere I move it.’ Steevens. Quarto B also reads—“Where is the adversary,” &c. omitting the words—“Yet am I noble,” which are only found in the folio. The word withal is wanting in that copy. Malone.

Note return to page 820 5&lblank; here is mine, &c.] Here I draw my sword. Behold, it is the privilege or right of my profession to draw it against a traitor. I protest therefore, &c. It is not the charge itself (as Dr. Warburton has erroneously stated,) but the right of bringing the charge and maintaining it with his sword, which Edgar calls the privilege of his profession. Malone.

Note return to page 821 6Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession:] The charge he is going to bring against the Bastard, he calls the privilege, &c. To understand which phraseology, we must consider that the old rights of knighthood are here alluded to; whose oath and profession required him to discover all treasons, and whose privilege it was to have his challenge accepted, or otherwise to have his charge taken pro confesso. For if one who was no knight accused another who was, that other was under no obligation to accept the challenge. On this account it was necessary, as Edgar came disguised, to tell the Bastard he was a knight. Warburton. The privilege of this oath means the privilege gained by taking the oath administered in the regular initiation of a knight professed. Johnson. The quartos read—“it is the privilege of my tongue.” Steevens. The folio reads: “Behold, it is my privilege, “The privilege of mine honours, “My oath and my profession.” Malone.

Note return to page 822 7Maugre &lblank;] i. e. notwithstanding. So, in Twelfth Night: “I love thee so, that maugre all thy pride &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 823 7Conspirant 'gainst &lblank;] The quartos read: “Conspicuate 'gainst &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 824 8&lblank; beneath thy feet,] So the quartos. Folio: “below thy foot.” Malone.

Note return to page 825 9In wisdom, I should ask thy name;] Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank, Edmund might have declined the combat. Hence the herald proclaimed—“If any man of quality, or degree,” &c. So Goneril afterwards says— “By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer “An unknown opposite.” Malone.

Note return to page 826 *First folio, And since thy tongue (some say) of breeding breathes.

Note return to page 827 1And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathes,] 'Say, for essay, some show or probability. Pope. Say is sample, a taste. So, in Sidney: “So good a say invites the eye “A little downward to espy &lblank;.” Again, in the Preface to Maurice Kyffin's translation of the Andria of Terence, 1588: “Some other like places I could recite, but these shall suffice for a say.” Again, in Revenge for Honour, by Chapman: “&lblank; But pray do not “Take the first say of her yourselves—.” Again, in The Unnatural Combat, by Massinger: “&lblank; or to take “A say of venison, or stale fowl—.” Again, in Holinshed, p. 847: “He (C. Wolsey) made dukes and erles to serve him of wine, with a say taken,” &c. To take the assaie was the technical term. Steevens.

Note return to page 828 2What safe and nicely, &c.] The phraseology is here very licentious. I suppose the meaning is, ‘That delay which by the law of knighthood I might make, I scorn to make.’ Nicely is punctiliously; if I stood on minute forms. This line is not in the quartos; and furnishes one more proof of what readers are so slow to admit, that a whole line is sometimes omitted at the press. The subsequent line without this is nonsense. See vol. ix. p. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 829 *Quartos, right.

Note return to page 830 3Where they shall rest for ever.] To that place, where they shall rest for ever; i. e. thy heart. Malone.

Note return to page 831 4Alb. O save him, save him! Gon. This is mere practice, Gloster:] Thus all the copies; but I have ventured to place the two hemistichs to Goneril. 'Tis absurd that Albany, who knew Edmund's treasons, and his own wife's passion for him, should be solicitous to have his life saved. Theobald. Albany desires that Edmund's life might be spared at present, only to obtain his confession, and to convict him openly by his own letter. Johnson. The words—Hold, sir, in Albany's next speech, show that he old copies are right. Malone.

Note return to page 832 5By the law of arms,] So the quartos. Folio—of war. Malone.

Note return to page 833 6&lblank; thou wast not bound to answer &lblank;] One of the quartos [quarto B] reads— “&lblank; thou art not bound to offer,” &c. Steevens. All the quartos read—“thou art not.” Boswell.

Note return to page 834 7Most monstrous!] So quartos A and C, and the folio. The other quarto reads—“Monster, know'st thou this paper?” The folio—“Most monstrous, O know'st,” &c. Malone. “Knowest thou these letters?” says Leir to Ragan, in the old anonymous play, when he shows her both her own and her sister's letters, which were written to procure his death. Upon which she snatches the letters and tears them. Steevens.

Note return to page 835 8Let's exchange charity.] Our author, by negligence, gives his Heathens the sentiments and practices of Christianity. In Hamlet there is the same solemn act of final reconciliation, but with exact propriety, for the personages are Christians: “Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 836 9&lblank; to scourge us:] Thus the quartos. The folio reads: “&lblank; to plague us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 837 1&lblank; full circle;] Quarto, full circled. Johnson.

Note return to page 838 2I know it well.] The adverb—well, was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 839 3That with the pain of death, &c.] Thus both the quartos. The folio reads unintelligibly, “That we the pain,” &c. The original copies have would; but this was, I apprehend, a misprint in those copies for w'ould, i. e. we would, or, as we should now write it, we'd. In The Tempest, Act II. Sc. I. we have sh'ould for she would. Malone. I cannot think the folio reading— “That we the pain of death would hourly die,” unintelligible. To die hourly the pains of death, does not seem to me a very harsh ellipsis for, To die suffering the pains of death. Boswell.

Note return to page 840 4The bloody proclamation to escape, &lblank; taught me to shift &lblank;] A wish to escape the bloody proclamation, taught me, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 841 5&lblank; his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost;] So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels “Which Pericles hath lost.” Malone.

Note return to page 842 6[Edg.] The lines between crotchets are not in the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 843 7&lblank; This would have seem'd a period To such as love not sorrow; but another, To amplify too-much, would make much more, And top extremity.] The reader easily sees that this reflection refers to the Bastard's desiring to hear more; and to Albany's thinking he had said enough. But it is corrupted into miserable nonsense. We should read it thus: “This would have seem'd a period. But such “As love to amplify another's sorrow “To much, would make much more, and top extremity.” i. e. This to a common humanity would have been thought the utmost of my sufferings; but such as love cruelty are always for adding more to much, till they reach the extremity of misery. Warburton. The sense may probably be this: ‘This would have seemed a period to such as love not sorrow; but—another, i. e. but I must add another, i. e. another period, another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will increase the horrors of what has been already told. So, in King Richard II.:   “I play the torturer, by small and small,   “To lengthen out the worst.” Steevens. “This would have seem'd a period “To such as love not sorrow; but another, “To amplify too-much, would make much more, “And top extremity.” So, in The Rape of Lucrece:   “Devise extremes beyond extremity.” Too-much is here used as a substantive. A period is an end or conclusion. So, in King Richard III.: “O, let me make the period to my curse.” This reflection perhaps refers, as Dr. Warburton has observed, to the Bastard's desiring to hear more, and to Albany's thinking that enough had been said. This, says Edgar, would have seemed the utmost completion of woe, to such as do not delight in sorrow; but another, of a different disposition, to amplify misery, would “give more strength to that which hath too much.” Edgar's words, however, may have no reference to what Edmund has said; and he may only allude to the relation he is about to give of Kent's adding a new sorrow to what Edgar already suffered, by recounting the miseries which the old king and his faithful follower had endured. Mr. Steevens points thus: “&lblank; but another; &lblank; “To amplify too much, would make much more, “And top extremity: &lblank;” But if such a punctuation be adopted, what shall we do with the word would, which is thus left without a nominative case? A preceding editor, who introduced the above punctuation, to obtain some sense, reads and points: “&lblank; but another: &lblank; “(To amplify too-much, to make much more, “And top extremity,) “Whilst I was big,” &c. and indeed without that alteration, the words thus pointed afford, in my apprehension, no sense. Malone. Mr. Malone's explanation may be just; and yet it is probable that we are struggling with a passage, the obscurity of which is derived from its corruption. Steevens.

Note return to page 844 8&lblank; threw me on my father;] Thus both the quartos, where alone this speech is found. Mr. Theobald, and the subsequent editors, read—“threw him on my father.” This is a new and distinct idea; but I do not think myself warranted to adopt it; the text being intelligible, and it being very improbable that the word me should have been printed instead of him.—Kent in his transport of joy, at meeting Edgar, embraced him with such violence, as to throw him on the dead body of Gloster. Malone. “&lblank; threw me on my father.” Thus the quartos. The modern editors have corrected the passage, as I have printed it, and as I suppose it to have been originally written, “threw him.” There is tragick propriety in Kent's throwing himself on the body of a deceased friend; but this propriety is lost in the act of clumsily tumbling a son over the lifeless remains of his father. Steevens.

Note return to page 845 9&lblank; the trumpet sounded,] The quartos, where alone this speech is found, read trumpets; but it was certainly a misprint, for one trumpet only had sounded. Dr. Johnson made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 846 1&lblank; from the heart of &lblank;] Here the folio, in defiance of metre and propriety, adds— “&lblank; O she's dead!” Steevens.

Note return to page 847 2Who, man? speak.] The folio reads, “Who dead? Speak, man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 848 3&lblank; she confesses it.] Thus the first and second folio. The quartos—“she has [and hath] confess'd it.” As these readings are equally proper, I have chosen the more metrical of the two. Steevens. It is surely more proper to say that a person who is already dead hath confessed it, than to speak in the present term. The metre would be set right if we read poisoned. Boswell.

Note return to page 849 4Now marry in an instant.] In the folio, after these words, we have— “Edg. Here comes Kent. “Enter Kent.” and the words—“O, is this he,” are spoken by Albany, immediately after “touches us not with pity.” I have followed the quartos. Malone.

Note return to page 850 5This judgment, &c.] If Shakspeare had studied Aristotle all his life, he would not perhaps have been able to mark with more precision the distinct operations of terror and pity. Tyrwhitt. This is the reading of the folio. The quartos have—“This justice,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 851 6Here comes Kent, sir.] The manner in which Edgar here mentions Kent, seems to require the lines which are inserted from the first edition in the foregoing scene. Johnson.

Note return to page 852 7O! it is he.] Thus the quartos, Folio. “O, is this he?” Malone.

Note return to page 853 8Yet Edmund was belov'd:] Rowe's Dying Rake suggests to himself a similar consolation, arising from the remembrance of successful gallantry: “Yet, let not this advantage swell thy pride; “I conquer'd in my turn, in love I triumph'd.” Dryden's Don Sebastian felicitates himself on the same circumstance. Thus also in The Double Marriage by Fletcher: “&lblank; this happiness yet stays with me: “You have been mine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 854 9Give it the captain.] The quartos read: “&lblank; Take my sword, the captain, “Give it the captain &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 855 1Alb. Haste thee, for thy life.] Thus the quartos. In the folio this speech is improperly assigned to Edgar, who had the moment before received the token of reprieve, which Edmund enjoined him to give the officer, in whose custody Lear was. Malone.

Note return to page 856 *Quarto A omits this line.

Note return to page 857 2That she fordid herself.] To fordo, signifies to destroy. It is used again in Hamlet, Act V.: “&lblank; did, with desperate hand, “Fordo its own life &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 858 3&lblank; Cordelia dead in his arms;] This princess, according to the old historians, retired with victory from the battle which she conducted in her father's cause, and thereby replaced him on the throne: but in a subsequent one fought against her (after the death of the old king) by the sons of Goneril and Regan, she was taken, and died miserably in prison. The poet found this in history, and was therefore willing to precipitate her death, which he knew had happened but a few years after. The dramatick writers of this age suffered as small a number of their heroes and heroines to escape as possible; nor could the filial piety of this lady, any more than the innocence of Ophelia, prevail on Shakspeare to extend her life beyond her misfortunes. Steevens. Geoffrey of Monmouth, the original relater of this story, says, that Cordelia was thrown by her nephews into prison, “where, for grief at the loss of her kingdom, she killed herself.” Malone.

Note return to page 859 4Kent. Is this the promis'd end? Edg. Or image of that horror?] It appears to me that by the promised end Kent does not mean that conclusion which the state of their affairs seemed to promise, but the end of the world. In St. Mark's Gospel, when Christ foretels to his disciples the end of the world, and is describing to them the signs that were to precede, and mark the approach of, our final dissolution, he says, “For in those days shall be affliction such as was not from the beginning of the creation which God created, unto this time, neither shall be:” and afterwards he says, “Now the brother shall betray the brother to death, and the father the son; and children shall rise up against their parents, and shall cause them to be put to death.” Kent in contemplating the unexampled scene of exquisite affliction which was then before him, and the unnatural attempt of Goneril and Regan against their father's life, recollects these passages, and asks, whether that was the end of the world that had been foretold to us. To which Edgar adds, or only a representation or resemblance of that horror? So Macbeth, when he calls upon Banquo, Malcolm, &c. to view Duncan murdered, says— “&lblank; up, up, and see “The great doom's image!” There is evidently an allusion to the same passages in Scripture, in a speech of Gloster's, which he makes in the second scene of the first Act: “These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us;—love cools; friendship falls off; brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father; the king falls from the bias of nature; there's father against child: We have seen the best of our time.” If any criticks should urge it as an objection to this explanation, that the persons of the drama are pagans, and of consequence unacquainted with the Scriptures, they give Shakspeare credit for more accuracy than I fear he possessed. M. Mason. This note deserves the highest praise, and is inserted in the present work with the utmost degree of gratitude to its author. Steevens. I entirely agree with Mr. Mason in his happy explanation of this passage. In a speech which our poet has put into the mouth of young Clifford in The Second Part of King Henry VI. a similar imagery is found. On seeing the dead body of his father, who was slain in battle by the Duke of York, he exclaims— “&lblank; O, let the vile world end, “And the premised flames of the last day “Knit earth and heaven together! “Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, “Particularities and petty sounds “To cease!” There is no trace of these lines in the old play on which The Second Part of King Henry VI. was formed. Image is again used for delineation or representation, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “No counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed.” Again, in Hamlet: “The play is the image of a murder done in Vienna.” Mr. M. Mason has not done justice to his ingenious explanation of these words, by not quoting the whole of the passage in Macbeth: “&lblank; up, up, and see “The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! “As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights, “To countenance this horror.” Here we find disjecti membra poetæ; the second and fourth line, taken together, furnishing us with the very expression of the text. Malone.

Note return to page 860 5Fall, and cease!] Albany is looking with attention on the pains employed by Lear to recover his child, and knows to what miseries he must survive, when he finds them to be ineffectual. Having these images present to his eyes and imagination, he cries out, “Rather fall, and cease to be, at once, than continue in existence only to be wretched.” So, in All's Well, &c. to cease is used for to die: and in Hamlet, the death of majesty is called “the cease of majesty.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease! “Both suffer under this complaint you bring, “And both shall cease, without your remedy.” Steevens. The word is used nearly in the same sense in a former scene in this play: “Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, “Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, “That things might change or cease.” I doubt, however, whether Albany's speech is addressed to Lear. Malone. To whom then is it addressed? Steevens. There is a passage in The Double Marriage of Fletcher, which supports Steevens's conjecture: Juliana says to Virolet— “Be what you please, this happiness yet stays with me, “You have been mine:—oh my unhappy fortune! “Pand. “&lblank; Nay, break, and die. “Jul. It cannot yet; I must live “Till I see this man blest in his new love, “And then &lblank;.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 861 6This feather stirs;] So, in The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “Fetch a looking-glass, see if his breath will not stain it; or pull some feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his lips.” Steevens. A common experiment of applying a light feather to the lips of a person supposed to be dead, to see whether he breathes. There is the same thought in K. Henry IV. Part II. Act IV. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; By his gates of breath “There lies a downy feather, which stirs not.” And to express a total stillness in the air, in Donne's poem, called The Calm, there is the like sentiment; which Jonson, in his conversation with Drummond of Hawthornden, highly commended: “&lblank; in one place lay “Feathers and dust, to-day and yesterday.” Whalley.

Note return to page 862 7&lblank; murderers, traitors all!] Thus the folio. The quartos read—“murderous traitors all.” Malone.

Note return to page 863 8I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion I would have made them skip:] It is difficult for an author who never peruses his first works, to avoid repeating some of the same thoughts in his latter productions. What Lear has just said, had been anticipated by Justice Shallow in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I have seen the time with my long sword I would have made your four tall fellows skip like rats.” It is again repeated in Othello: “&lblank; I have seen the day “That with this little arm and this good sword “I have made my way,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 864 9If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated, One of them we behold.] I suppose by the two whom fortune once loved, and then hated, Kent means, Lear and himself; and that each of them, looking on the other, saw a rare instance of her caprice. He may, however, be only thinking of Lear, the object of her hate. This is the reading of the folio. The quartos read—“lov'd or hated;” and they may be right, if the interpretation last given be the true one. Malone. The meaning of this passage appears to me to be this. If Fortune, to display the plenitude of her power, should brag of two persons, one of whom she had highly elevated, and the other she had wofully depressed, we now behold the latter. The quarto reads—“She lov'd or hated,” which seems to confirm this explanation; but either reading will express the same sense. M. Mason

Note return to page 865 1This is a dull sight:] This passage is wanting in the quartos. So, in Macbeth: “This is a sorry sight.” Steevens. I apprehend Lear means that his eye-sight was bedimmed: either by excess of grief, or, as is usual, by the approach of death: as Albany says of him below—“He knows not what he sees.” Blakeway.

Note return to page 866 2&lblank; of difference and decay,] Decay for misfortunes. Warburton. The quartos read: “That from your life of difference and decay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 867 3Nor no man else;] Kent means ‘I welcome! No, nor no man else.’ Malone.

Note return to page 868 4&lblank; fore-doom'd themselves,] Thus the quartos. The folio reads,—foredone. “Have fore-doom'd themselves” is—have anticipated their own doom. To fordo is to destroy. So, in Taylor, the water-poet's character of a strumpet: “So desperately had ne'er fordone themselves.” Again, in A Warning for Faire Women, &c. 1599: “Speak who has done this deed? thou hast not fordone thyself, hast thou?” Steevens. See before in this scene, p. 277. Malone.

Note return to page 869 5&lblank; he says;] The quartos read—he sees, which may be right. Steevens.

Note return to page 870 6What comfort to this great decay may come,] This great decay is Lear, whom Shakspeare poeticaly calls so, and means the same, as if he had said, “this piece of decay'd royalty,” this “ruin'd majesty.” Steevens. A preceding passage in which Gloster laments Lear's frenzy, fully supports Mr. Steevens's interpretation: “O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world “Shall so wear out to nought.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 871 7&lblank; You, to your rights; With boot, and such addition as your honours Have more than merited.] These lines are addressed to Kent as well as to Edgar, else the word honours would not have been in the plural number. By honours is meant honourable conduct. M. Malone. “With boot.” With advantage, with increase. Johnson.

Note return to page 872 8And my poor fool is hang'd!] This is an expression of tenderness for his dead Cordelia (not his fool, as some have thought) on whose lips he is still intent, and dies away while he is searching there for indications of life. “Poor fool,” in the age of Shakspeare, was an expression of endearment. So, in his Antony and Cleopatra:   “&lblank; poor venomous fool, “Be angry and despatch &lblank;.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “And, pretty fool, it stinted and said—ay.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, where Julia is speaking of her lover Proteus: “Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him?” I may add, that the Fool of Lear was long ago forgotten. Having filled the space allotted him in the arrangement of the play, he appears to have been silently withdrawn in the 6th scene of the 3d Act.—That the thoughts of a father, in the bitterest of all moments, while his favourite child lay dead in his arms, should recur to the antick who had formerly diverted him, has somewhat in it that I cannot reconcile to the idea of genuine sorrow and despair. Besides this, Cordelia was recently hanged; but we know not that the Fool had suffered in the same manner, nor can imagine why he should. The party adverse to Lear was little interested in the fate of his jester. The only use of him was to contrast and alleviate the sorrows of his master; and, that purpose being fully answered, the poet's solicitude about him was at an end. The term—poor fool, might indeed have misbecome the mouth of a vassal commiserating the untimely end of a princess, but has no impropriety when used by a weak, old, distracted king, in whose mind the distinctions of nature only survive, while he is uttering his last frantick exclamations over a murdered daughter. Should the foregoing remark, however, be thought erroneous, the reader will forgive it, as it serves to introduce some contradictory observations from a critick, in whose taste and judgment too much confidence cannot easily be placed. Steevens. I confess, I am one of those who have thought that Lear means his Fool, and not Cordelia. If he means Cordelia, then what I have always considered as a beauty, is of the same kind as the accidental stroke of the pencil that produced the foam.—Lear's affectionate remembrance of the Fool in this place, I used to think, was one of those strokes of genius, or of nature, which are so often found in Shakspeare, and in him only. Lear appears to have a particular affection for this Fool, whose fidelity in attending him, and endeavouring to divert him in his distress, seems to deserve all his kindness. “Poor fool and knave,” says he, in the midst of the thunderstorm, “I have one part in my heart that's sorry yet for thee.” It does not, therefore, appear to me, to be allowing too much consequence to the Fool, in making Lear bestow a thought on him, even when in still greater distress. Lear is represented as a good-natured, passionate, and rather weak old man; it is the old age of a cockered spoilt boy. There is no impropriety in giving to such a character those tender domestick affections, which would ill become a more heroick character, such as Othello, Macbeth, or Richard III.: The words—“No, no, no life;” I suppose to be spoken, not tenderly, but with passion: Let nothing now live;—let there be universal destruction;—“Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, and thou no breath at all?” It may be observed, that as there was a necessity, the necessity of propriety at least, that this Fool, the favourite of the author, of Lear, and consequently of the audience, should not be lost or forgot, it ought to be known what became of him.—However, it must be acknowledged, that we cannot infer much from thence; Shakspeare is not always attentive to finish the figures of his groups. I have only to add, that if an actor, by adopting the interpretation mentioned above, should apply the words poor fool to Cordelia, the audience would, I should imagine, think it a strange mode of expressing the grief and affection of a father for his dead daughter, and that daughter a queen.—The words poor fool, are undoubtedly expressive of endearment; and Shakspeare himself, in another place speaking of a dying animal, calls it poor dappled fool: but it never is, nor never can be, used with any degree of propriety, but to commiserate some very inferior object, which may be loved, without much esteem or respect. Sir Joshua Reynolds. It is not without some reluctance that I express my dissent from the friend whose name is subscribed to the preceding note; whose observations on all subjects of criticism and taste are so ingenious and just, that posterity may be at a loss to determine, whether his consummate skill and execution in his own art, or his judgment on that and other kindred arts, were superior. But magis amica veritas should be the motto of every editor of Shakspeare; in conformity to which I must add, that I have not the smallest doubt that Mr. Steevens's interpretation of these words is the true one. The passage indeed before us appears to me so clear, and so inapplicable to any person but Cordelia, that I fear the reader may think any further comment on it altogether superfluous. It is observable that Lear from the time of his entrance in this scene to his uttering these words, and from thence to his death, is wholly occupied by the loss of his daughter. He is diverted indeed from it for a moment by the intrusion of Kent, who forces himself on his notice; but he instantly returns to his beloved Cordelia, over whose dead body he continues to hang. He is now himself in the agony of death; and surely, at such a time, when his heart is just breaking, it would be highly unnatural that he should think of his Fool. But the great and decisive objection to such a supposition is that which Mr. Steevens has mentioned— that Lear has just seen his daughter hanged, having unfortunately been admitted too late to preserve her life, though time enough to punish the perpetrator of the act: but we have no authority whatsoever for supposing his Fool hanged also. Whether the expression—poor fool—can be applied with propriety only to inferior objects, for whom we have not much respect or esteem, is not, I conceive, the question. Shakspeare does not always use his terms with strict propriety, but he is always the best commentator on himself, and he certainly has applied this term in another place to the young, the beautiful, and innocent Adonis, the object of somewhat more than the esteem of a goddess: “For pity now she can no more detain him; “The poor fool prays her that he may depart.” Again, though less appositely, in Twelfth Night: “Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Lady, you have a merry heart. “Beat. Yes, my lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; Do not weep, good fools, “There is no cause.” In Romeo and Juliet a similar term of endearment is employed. Mercutio, speaking of Romeo, whom certainly he both esteemed and loved, says— “The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.” Nor was the phraseology, which has occasioned this long note, peculiar to Shakspeare. It was long before his time incorporated in our language; as appears from the following passage in the old poem entitled The History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Yea, he forgets himself, he is the wretch so bolde “To aske her name that without force doth him in bondage hold; “Ne how to unloose his bondes doth the poor foole devise, “But only seeketh by her sight to feed his hungry eyes.” In old English a fool and an innocent were synonymous terms. Hence probably the peculiar use of the expression—poor fool. In the passage before us, I conceive, means by it, dear, tender, helpless innocence! Malone.

Note return to page 873 9Pray you undo this button:] The Rev. Dr. J. Warton judiciously observes, that the swelling and heaving of the heart is described by this most expressive circumstance. So, in The Honest Lawyer, 1616: “&lblank; oh my heart! &lblank; “It beats so it has broke my buttons.” Again, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; Ah, cut my lace asunder, “That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, “Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it, “Break too!” and, as Mr. Malone adds, from N. Field's A Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; swell heart! buttons fly open; “Thanks gentle doublet, else my heart had broke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 874 1Do you see this? &c.] This line and the following hemistich, are not in the quartos. After “thank you, sir,” they have only the interjection O, five times repeated. Malone.

Note return to page 875 2Break, heart; &c.] This line is in the quartos given to the dying Lear. Malone.

Note return to page 876 3&lblank; O, let him pass!] See p. 221, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 877 4&lblank; this tough world &lblank;] Thus all the copies. Mr. Pope changed it to rough, but, perhaps, without necessity. This tough world is this obdurate rigid world. Steevens.

Note return to page 878 5The gor'd state,] So in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 507: “To keep my name ungor'd.” Boswell.

Note return to page 879 6&lblank; I must not say, no.] The modern editors have supposed that Kent expires after he has repeated these two last lines; but the speech rather appears to be meant for a despairing than a dying man; and as the old editions give no marginal direction for his death, I have forborne to insert any. I take this opportunity of retracting a declaration which I had formerly made on the faith of another person, viz. that the quartos 1608 were exactly alike. I have since discovered they vary one from another in many instances. Steevens. Kent in his entrance in this scene says— “I am come “To bid my king and master aye good night;”— but this, like the speech before us, only marks the despondency of the speaker. The word shortly [i. e. some time hence, at no very distant period,] decisively proves, that the poet did not mean to make him die on the scene. He merely says that he shall not live long, and therefore cannot undertake the office assigned to him. The marginal direction, he dies, was first introduced by the ignorant editor of the second folio. Malone. It was not adopted either by Hanmer or Capell. Boswell.

Note return to page 880 7The weight of this sad time, &c.] This speech from the authority of the old quarto is rightly placed to Albany: in the edition by the players, it is given to Edgar, by whom, I doubt not, it was of custom spoken. And the cause was this: he who played Edgar, being a more favourite actor than he who performed Albany, in spite of decorum it was thought proper he should have the last word. Theobald.

Note return to page 881 8The tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakspeare. There is perhaps no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions, and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poet's imagination, that the mind which once ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along. On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed, that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by softer manners; and the truth is, that though he so nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign. My learned friend, Mr. Warton, who has in The Adventurer very minutely criticised this play, remarks that the instances of cruelty are too savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered, by repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series of dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologize with equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatick exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distresses by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered that our author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that villainy is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified by The Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, that in his opinion, “the Tragedy has lost half its beauty.” Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of Cato, “the town was poisoned with much false and abominable criticism,” and that endeavours had been used to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the common events of human life: but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or, that if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue. In the present case the publick has decided.* [Subnote: *Dr. Johnson should rather have said that the managers of the theatres-royal have decided, and the publick has been obliged to acquiesce in their decision. The altered play has the upper gallery on its side; the original drama was patronized by Addison: Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni. Steevens.] Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor. There is another controversy among the criticks concerning this play. It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critick, has evinced by induction of particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rather consider the injured father than the degraded king. The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Holinshed generally copied; but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shakspeare. Johnson. The episode of Gloster and his sons is borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, in which we find the following chapter, which is said to be entitled, in the first edition of 1590, “The pitifull state and storie of the Paphlagonian unkinde king, and his kind sonne: first related by the sonne, then by the blind father.” In the second edition printed in folio in 1593, there is no division of chapters. There the story of the king of Paphlagonia commences in p. 69, b, and is related in the following words: “It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child; so that the princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place, which a certaine hollow rocke offering vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who, not perceiuing them, (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation, which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well, Leonatus, (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade mee to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps; I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not, I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchedness. But flie, flie from this region, only worthy of me. Deare father, (answered he,) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable: Ah, my sonne, (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to have such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse! These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose, (well showing they had not been borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger, what they were. Sirs, (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certain noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie, so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needful vnto vs, as pittie, yet nothing is more dangerous vnto vs then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare. “This old man whom I leade, was lately rightfull prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight; the riches which nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath been driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would have made me, who receiued my life of him, to be the worker of his destruction. But noble gentlemen, (said he) if either of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes heart, let me entreate you to conuay this afflicted prince to some place of rest and securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a king, of such might and fame, and so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved. “But before they coulde make him aunswere, his father began to speake. Ah, my sonne, (said he) how euill an historian are you, that leaue out the chief knot of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my ears, (the onely sense now left mee proper for knowledge,) assure thy selfe thou doest mistake me. And I take witnesse of that sunne which you see, (with that he cast vp his blinde eies, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I doe wish my selfe, which is as euill as may bee, if I speake vntruely, that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you, gentlemen, (to whome from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am,) that whatsoeuer my sonne (ô God, that truth bindes me to reproach him with the name of my son!) hath saide, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true; that hauing had in lawfull marriage, of a mother fitte to beare roiall children, this sonne, (such a one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my short declaration,) and so enjoyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growen to iustifie their expectations, (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones selfe after me,) I was carried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I be bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother,) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies he vsed to bring me to it, if I shoulde tell you, I shoulde tediouslie trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisie, desperate fraud, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not; no remembraunce of naughtinesse delightes me, but mine owne; and me thinkes, the accusing his trappes might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainelie I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruauntes of mine, whom I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him. “But those theeues (better natured to my sonne than my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorlie: which he did, giuing himself to be a priuate souldier, in a countrey here by. But as he was ready to be greatlie aduaunced for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me: who, dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine, suffered my selfe so to be gouerned by him, that all fauours and punishments passed by him; all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauourites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my selfe nothing but the name of a king: which he shortly wearie of too, with manie indignities, if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laide vpon me, threw me out of my seate, and put out my eies; and then, proud in his tirannie, let me goe, neither imprisoning nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie in deede, if euer there were any; full of wretchednesse, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in cittadels, the nestes of tirannie, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himselfe a well-willer of mine; to say the truth, (I thinke) few of them being so, considering my cruell folly to my good sonne, and foolish kindnesse to my vnkind bastard: but if there were any who felt a pitty of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine duety lefte in them towards me, yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing me almes at their doores; which yet was the onely sustenaunce of my distressed life, no body daring to showe so much charitie, as to lende mee a hande to guide my darke steppes: till this sonne of mine, (God knowes, woorthy of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father,) forgetting my abhominable wronges, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kind office you see him performe towardes me, to my vnspeakable griefe; not only because his kindnes is a glasse euen to my blind eies, of my naughtines, but that, aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatlie aduenture the losse of his well deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts; as if hee woulde cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, howe much soeuer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised, yet hee will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title, enobled by courage and goodnes, may one day shake the seate of a neuer-secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade mee to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto mee. And now, gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedings may bee the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so greate a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully followes his owne ruine. “The matter in it selfe lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old prince, which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face coulde not put of the markes thereof, greatly moued the two princes to compassion, which coulde not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came himselfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as hee came, not regarding the weake (as hee thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young prince, though not otherwise armed but with a sworde, howe falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe; but brauely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assayled him warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties, (so iust a defence deserving as much as old friendship,) and so did behave them among that companie, more iniurious then valiant, that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister. “Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if the king of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who, hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger presently to follow those two princes whom hee most dearely loued, was come in all hast, following as wel as he could their track with a hundreth horses, in that countrie which he thought, considering who then raigned, a fitte place inough to make the stage of any tragedie. “But then the match had beene so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse gotten honour, should haue tumbled together to destruction, had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor, with forty or fifty in their suité, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vppe from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to knowe feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that shoulde deale with them; for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismaied, and euer fortunate; and truely no more setled in valure, then disposed to goodnes and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a childe, and not the father of vertue. But bringing vp, rather then choise, hauing first knit their mindes vnto him, (indeede crafty inough, either to hide his faultes, or neuer to showe them, but when they might pay home,) they willingly helde out the course, rather to satisfie him then all the worlde; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill hee did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a countrey full of euill-wishing mindes toward him, though they knew not the cause, followed him; till they founde him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truely I may iustly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had neuer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not, yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of security; howsoeuer the princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus farre begun, it became not the constancy of the princes so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrigia, they had in fewe daies lefte him but onely that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing beene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had beene broken. “In which season the blinde king, hauing in the chiefe cittie of his realme set the crown vppon his son Leonatus head, with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people his owne fault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him, as of his new-become subject, euen in a moment died: as it should seeme, his heart broken with vnkindness and affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort, as it was able no longer to keepe safe his vitall spirites. But the new king, hauing no lesse louingly performed all duties to him dead, then aliue, pursued on the siege of his vnnaturall brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truely I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whome the princes neuer found in all their trauaile two of greater hability to performe, nor of habler skil for conduct. “But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humbleness to creepe, where by pride he coulde not marche. For certainely so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft conformed him, to all turninges of sleights, that though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule than he, no man could better find the places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no man more impudent to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting manner of aggrauating his owne euill, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way, that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus aliue into his hands) to speake with the king his brother, he himselfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence,) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where, what submission hee vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie then as the murderer of his father, and anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon; and if not an excuse of the faulte past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poore villaines chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author thereof, were deliuered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.” Malone.

Note return to page 882 *King Leir, &c.] This ballad is given from an ancient copy in The Golden Garland, black letter, to the tune of—“When flying fame.” It is here reprinted from Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. third edit. Steevens.

Note return to page 883 *This ballad, which by no means deserves a place in any edition of Shakspeare, is evidently a most servile pursuit,—not, indeed, of our author's play, which the writer does not appear to have read, but of Holinshed's Chronicle, where, as in Geoffrey of Monmouth, the King of France is called Aganippus. I suppose, however, that the performance and celebrity of the play might have set the ballad-maker at work, and furnished him with the circumstance of Lear's madness, of which there is no hint either in the historian or the old play. The omission of any other striking incident may be fairly imputed to his want of either genius or information. All he had to do was to spin out a sort of narrative in a sort of verse, to be sung about the streets, and make advantage of the publick curiosity. I much doubt whether any common ballad can be produced anterior to a play upon the same subject, unless in the case of some very recent event. Ritson. It is not easy to guess at Mr. Ritson's meaning in this strange note. The ballad-maker, it seems, servilely copied Holinshed's Chronicle, and yet introduced a circumstance not mentioned by the Historian, but furnished by Shakspeare's play, which it is said he does not appear to have read. The rest of his observations are equally confused. Boswell.

Note return to page 884 1The persons were first enumerated by Mr. Rowe.

Note return to page 885 2Lafeu,] We should read—Lefeu. Steevens.

Note return to page 886 3Parolles,] I suppose we should write this name—Paroles, i. e. a creature made up of empty words. Steevens.

Note return to page 887 4Violenta only enters once, and then she neither speaks, nor is spoken to. This name appears to be borrowed from an old metrical history, entitled Didaco and Violenta, 1576. Steevens.

Note return to page 888 1&lblank; in ward,] Under his particular care, as my guardian, till I come to age. It is now almost forgotten in England, that the heirs of great fortunes were the King's wards. Whether the same practice prevailed in France, it is of no great use to inquire, for Shakspeare gives to all nations the manners of England. Johnson. Howell's fifteenth letter acquaints us that the province of Normandy was subject to wardships, and no other part of France besides; but the supposition of the contrary furnished Shakspeare with a reason why the King compelled Rousillon to marry Helen. Tollet. The prerogative of a wardship is a branch of the feudal law, and may as well be supposed to be incorporated with the constitution of France, as it was with that of England, till the reign of Charles II. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 889 2&lblank; O, that had! how sad a passage 'tis!] Imitated from the Heautontimorumenos of Terence, (then translated,) where Menedemus says: &lblank; Filium unicum adolescentulum Habeo. Ah, quid dixi? habere me? imo &lblank; habui, Chreme, Nunc habeam necne incertum est. Blackstone. So, in Spenser's Shepheard's Calender: “Shee, while she was, (that was a woeful word to saine,) “For beauties praise and pleasaunce had no peere.” Again, in Wily Beguil'd, 1606: “She is not mine, I have no daughter now; “That I should say I had, thence comes my grief.” Malone. Passage is any thing that passes. So we now say, a passage of an author; and we said about a century ago, the passages of a reign. When the Countess mentions Helena's loss of a father, she recollects her own loss of a husband, and stops to observe how heavily the word had passes through her mind. Johnson. Thus Shakspeare himself. See The Comedy of Errors, Act III. Sc. I.: “Now in the stirring passage of the day.” So, in The Gamester, by Shirley, 1637: “I'll not be witness of your passages myself:” i. e. of what passes between you. Again, in A Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; never lov'd these prying listening men “That ask of others' states and passages.” Again: “I knew the passages 'twixt her and Scudamore.” Again, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “&lblank; have beheld “Your vile and most lascivious passages.” Again in The English Intelligencer, a tragi-comedy, 1641: “&lblank; two philosophers that jeer and weep at the passages of the world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 3A fistula, my lord.] The King of France's disorder is specified as follows in Painter's translation from Boccacio's Novel, on which this play was founded: “She heard by report that the French King had a swelling upon his breast, which by reason of ill cure, was growen into a fistula,” &c. In Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 251, we have also mention of this inelegant disorder. Speaking of the necessity which princes occasionally find to counterfeit maladies, our author has the following remark: “And in dissembling of diseases, which I pray you? for I have obserued it in the Court of Fraunce, not a burning feuer, or a pleurisie, or a palsie, or the hydropick and swelling gowte, &c. But it must be either a dry dropsie, or a megrim or letarge, or a fistule in ano, or some such other secret disease as the common conuersant can hardly discouer, and the physitian either not speedily heale, or not honestly bewray.” Steevens.

Note return to page 891 4&lblank; virtuous qualities,] By virtuous qualities are meant qualities of good breeding and erudition; in the same sense that the Italians say, qualità virtuosa; and not moral ones. On this account it is, she says, that, in an ill mind, these virtuous qualities are virtues and traitors too: i. e. the advantages of education enable an ill mind to go further in wickedness than it could have done without them. Warburton. Virtue, and virtuous, as I am told, still keep this signification in the north, and mean ingenuity and ingenious. Of this sense, perhaps, an instance occurs in the eighth book of Chapman's version of the Iliad: “Then will I to Olympus' top our virtuous engine bind, “And by it every thing shall hang,” &c. Again, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, p. 1, 1590: “If these had made one poem's period, “And all combin'd in beauties worthynesse, “Yet should there hover in their restlesse heads “One thought, one grace, one wonder at the least, “Which into words no vertue can digest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 892 5&lblank; they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness;] “Her virtues are the better for their simpleness,” that is, ‘her excellencies are the better because they are artless and open, without fraud, without design. The learned commentator has well explained virtues, but has not, I think, reached the force of the word traitors, and therefore has not shown the full extent of Shakspeare's masterly observation. “Virtues in an unclean mind are virtues and traitors too.” Estimable and useful qualities, joined with an evil disposition, give that evil disposition power over others, who, by admiring the virtue, are betrayed to the malevolence. The Tatler, mentioning the sharpers of his time, observes, that some of them are men of such elegance and knowledge, that a “young man who falls into their way, is betrayed as much by his judgment as his passions.” Johnson. In As You Like It, virtues are called traitors on a very different ground: “&lblank; to some kind of men “Their graces serve them but as enemies; “No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, “Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. “O what a world is this, when what is comely “Envenoms him that bears it!” Malone.

Note return to page 893 6&lblank; can season her praise in.] To season has here a culinary sense; to preserve by salting. A passage in Twelfth-Night will best explain its meaning: “&lblank; all this to season “A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, “And lasting in her remembrance.” Malone. So, in Chapman's version of the third Iliad: “Season'd with tears her joys, to see,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 894 7&lblank; all livelihood &lblank;] i. e. all appearance of life. Steevens.

Note return to page 895 8&lblank; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.] Our author sometimes is guilty of such slight inaccuracies; and concludes a sentence as if the former part of it had been constructed differently. Thus, in the present instance, he seems to have meant—‘lest you be rather thought to affect a sorrow, than to have.’ So, in his 58th Sonnet: “That God forbid, that made me first your slave,   “I should in thought control your times of pleasure, “Or at your hand the account of hours to crave.” But this inaccuracy was not peculiar to Shakspeare, as will be shown in the Essay on his Phraseology. Malone.

Note return to page 896 9I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too.] Helena has, I believe, a meaning here, that she does not wish should be understood by the countess. Her affected sorrow was for the death of her father; her real grief for the lowness of her situation, which she feared would for ever be a bar to her union with her beloved Bertram. Her own words afterwards fully support this interpretation: “&lblank; I think not on my father;— “&lblank; What was he like? “I have forgot him; my imagination “Carries no favour in it but Bertram's: “I am undone.” Malone. The sorrow that Helen affected, was for her father; that which she really felt, was for Bertram's departure. The line should be particularly attended to, as it tends to explain some subsequent passages which have hitherto been misunderstood. M. Mason.

Note return to page 897 1If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.] Lafeu says, “excessive grief is the enemy of the living:” the Countess replies, “If the living be an enemy to grief, the excess soon makes it mortal:” that is, ‘If the living do not indulge grief, grief destroys itself by its own excess.’ By the word mortal I understand that which dies; and Dr. Warburton [who reads—be not enemy—] that which destroys. I think that my interpretation gives a sentence more acute and more refined. Let the reader judge. Johnson. A passage in The Winter's Tale, in which our author again speaks of grief destroying itself by its own excess, adds support to Dr. Johnson's interpretation: “&lblank; scarce any joy “Did ever live so long; no sorrow “But kill'd itself much sooner.” In Romeo and Juliet we meet with a kindred thought: “These violent delights have violent ends, “And in their triumph die.” Malone.

Note return to page 898 2That thee may furnish,] That may help thee with more and better qualifications. Johnson.

Note return to page 899 3The best wishes, &c.] That is, may you be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect. Johnson.

Note return to page 900 4Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father. Hel. O, were that all! &c.] Would that the attention to maintain the credit of my father, (or, not to act unbecoming the daughter of such a father,) were my only solicitude! I think not of him. My cares are all for Bertram. Malone. “Hel. O, were that all!—I think not on my father.” This passage is evidently defective. The only meaning that the speech of Lafeu will bear, as it now stands, is this; “That Helena, who was a young girl, ought to keep up the credit which her father had established, who was the best physician of the age; and she, by her answer, O, were that all! seems to admit that it would be no difficult matter for her to do so.” The absurdity of this is evident; and the words will admit of no other interpretation. Some alteration therefore is necessary; and that which I propose is, to read uphold, instead of must hold, and then the meaning will be this: “Lafeu, observing that Helena had shed a torrent of tears, which he and the Countess both ascribe to her grief for her father, says, that she upholds the credit of her father, on this principle, that the surest proof that can be given of the merit of a person deceased, are the lamentations of those who survive him. But Helena, who knows her own heart, wishes that she had no other cause of grief, except the loss of her father, whom she thinks no more of.” M. Mason. The verb to hold has exactly the same meaning—to maintain, as that which Mr. Mason would substitute in its place. Boswell.

Note return to page 901 5&lblank; these great tears &lblank;] The tears which the King and Countess shed for him. Johnson. “And these great tears grace his remembrance more “Than those I shed for him.” Johnson supposes that, by these great tears, Helena means the tears which the King and the Countess shed for her father; but it does not appear that either of those great persons had shed tears for him, though they spoke of him with regret. By these great tears, Helena does not mean the tears of great people, but the big and copious tears she then shed herself, which were caused in reality by Bertram's departure, though attributed by Lafeu and the Countess, to the loss of her father; and from this misapprehension of theirs, graced his remembrance more than those she actually shed for him. What she calls gracing his remembrance, is what Lafeu had styled before, upholding his credit, the two passages tending to explain each other.—It is scarcely necessary to make this grammatical observation —That if Helena had alluded to any tears supposed to have been shed by the King, she would have said those tears, not these, as the latter pronoun must necessarily refer to something present at the time. M. Mason. These for those is found in writers much more accurate than Shakspeare. Boswell.

Note return to page 902 *First folio, T'were.

Note return to page 903 6In his bright radiance and collateral light, &c.] I cannot be united with him and move in the same sphere, but must be comforted at a distance by the radiance that shoots on all sides from him. Johnson. So, in Milton's Paradise Lost, b. x.: “&lblank; from his radiant seat he rose “Of high collateral glory.” Steevens.

Note return to page 904 7'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table;] So, in our author's 24th Sonnet: “Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath steel'd “Thy beauty's form in table of my heart.” A table was in our author's time a term for a picture, in which sense it is used here. Tableau, French. So, on a picture painted in the time of Queen Elizabeth, in the possession of the Hon. Horace Walpole: “The Queen to Walsingham this table sent, “Mark of her people's and her own content.” Malone. Table here only signifies the board on which any picture was painted. So, in Mr. Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting in England, vol. i. p. 58: “Item, one table with the picture of the Duchess of Milan.” “Item, one table with the pictures of the King's Majesty and Queen Jane:” &c. Helena would not have talked of drawing Bertram's picture in her heart's picture; but considers her heart as the tablet or surface on which his resemblance was to be pourtrayed. Steevens. A passage in The Custom of the Country, by Beaumont and Fletcher, as Mr. Weber has observed, confirms Mr. Malone's explanation of the word table: “&lblank; he has a strange aspéct, “And looks much like the figure of a hangman “In a table of the passion.” Boswell.

Note return to page 905 8&lblank; trick of his sweet favour:] So, in King John: “he hath a trick of Cœur de Lion's face.” Trick seems to be some peculiarity or feature. Johnson. Trick is an expression taken from drawing, and is so explained in King John, Act I. Sc. I. The present instance explains itself: “&lblank; to sit and draw “His arched brows,” &c. “&lblank; and trick of his sweet favour.” Trick, however, on the present occasion, may mean neither tracing nor outline, but peculiarity. Steevens. Favour is countenance. It occurs frequently in that sense in Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 906 9Solely a coward;] Altogether a coward, without any admixture of the opposite quality. A similar phrase occurs in Cupid's Revenge, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “She being only wicked.” Boswell.

Note return to page 907 1Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.] Cold for naked; as superfluous for over-clothed. This makes the propriety of the antithesis. Warburton.

Note return to page 908 2And you, monárch.] Perhaps here is some allusion designed to Monarcho, a ridiculous fantastical character of the age of Shakspeare. Concerning this person, see the notes on Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 909 3And no.] I am no more a queen than you are a monarch, or Monarcho. Malone.

Note return to page 910 4&lblank; stain of soldier &lblank;] Stain for colour. Parolles was in red, as appears from his being afterwards called red-tail'd humble-bee. Warburton. It does not appear from either of these expressions, that Parolles was entirely drest in red. Shakspeare writes only some stain of soldier, meaning in one sense, that he had red breeches on, (which is sufficiently evident from calling him afterwards red-tail'd humble-bee,) and in another, that he was a disgrace to soldiery. Stain is used in an adverse sense by Shakspeare, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it.” Mr M. Mason observes on this occasion that “though a red coat is now the mark of a soldier in the British service, it was not so in the days of Shakspeare, when we had no standing army, and the use of armour still prevailed.” To this I reply, that the colour red has always been annexed to soldiership. Chaucer, in his Knight's Tale, v. 1749, has “Mars the rede,” and Boccace has given Mars the same epithet in the opening of his Theseida: “O rubicondo Marte.” Steevens. I take the liberty of making one observation respecting Steevens's note on this passage, which is, that when Chaucer talks of Mars the red, and Boccace of the rubicondo Marte, they both allude to the countenance and complexion of the god, not to his clothes; but as Lafeu, in Act IV. Sc. V. calls Parolles the red-tailed humble-bee, it is probable that the colour of his dress was in Helena's contemplation. M. Mason. Stain rather for what we now say tincture, some qualities, at least superficial, of a soldier. Johnson.

Note return to page 911 5&lblank; with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city.] So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “And long upon these terms I held my city, “Till thus he 'gan besiege me.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “This makes in him more rage, and lesser pity, “To make the breach, and enter this sweet city.” Malone.

Note return to page 912 5Loss of virginity is rational increase;] I believe we should read, national. Tyrwhitt. Rational increase may mean the “regular increase by which rational beings are propagated.” Steevens.

Note return to page 913 6He, that hangs himself, is a virgin: virginity murders itself;] i. e. he that hangs himself, and a virgin, are in this circumstance alike; they are both self-destroyers. Malone.

Note return to page 914 7&lblank; inhibited sin &lblank;] i. e. forbidden. So, in Othello: “&lblank; a practiser “Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 915 8&lblank; within ten years it will make itself ten,] The old copy reads—“within ten years it will make itself two.” The emendation was made by Sir T. Hanmer. It was also suggested by Mr. Steevens, who likewise proposed to read—“within two years it will make itself two.” Mr. Tollet would read—“within ten years it will make itself twelve.” I formerly proposed to read—“Out with it: within ten months it will make itself two.” Part with it, and within ten months' time it will double itself; i. e. it will produce a child. I now mention this conjecture, (in which I once had some confidence,) only for the purpose of acknowledging my error. I had not sufficiently attended to a former passage in this scene,— “Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found,” i. e. may produce ten virgins. Those words likewise are spoken by Parolles, and add such decisive support to Sir Thomas Hanmer's emendation, that I have not hesitated to adopt it. The text, as exhibited in the old copy, is undoubtedly corrupt. It has already been observed, that many passages in these plays, in which numbers are introduced, are printed incorrectly. Our author's sixth Sonnet also fully supports this emendation: “That use is not forbidden usury, “Which happies those that pay the willing loan; “That's for thyself, to breed another thee, “Or ten times happier, be it ten for one. “Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, “If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee.” “Out with it,” is used equivocally.—Applied to virginity, it means, give it away; part with it: considered in another light, it signifies, put it out to interest. In The Tempest we have—“Each putter out on five for one,” &c. Malone. There is no reason for altering the text. A well-known observation of the noble earl, to whom the horses of the present generation owe the length of their tails, contains the true explanation of this passage. Henley. I cannot help repeating on this occasion, Justice Shallow's remark: “Give me pardon, sir:—If you come with news, I take it there is but two ways;—either to utter them, or to conceal them.” With this noble earl's notorious remark, I am quite unacquainted. Steevens.

Note return to page 916 9&lblank; Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes.] Parolles, in answer to the question, “How one shall lose virginity to her own liking?” plays upon the word liking, and says, ‘she must do ill, for virginity, to be so lost, must like him that likes not virginity.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 917 1&lblank; which wear not now:] Thus the old copy, and rightly. Shakspeare often uses the active for the passive. The modern editors read, “which we wear not now.” Tyrwhitt. The old copy has were. Mr. Rowe corrected it. Malone.

Note return to page 918 2&lblank; your date is better &lblank;] Here is a quibble on the word date, which means both age, and a candied fruit much used in our author's time. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.” The same quibble occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; and then to be bak'd with no date in the pie, for then the man's date is out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 919 3Not my virginity yet.] The whole speech is abrupt, unconnected, and obscure. Dr. Warburton thinks much of it supposititious. I would be glad to think so of the whole, for a commentator naturally wishes to reject what he cannot understand. Something, which should connect Helena's words with those of Parolles, seems to be wanting. Hanmer has made a fair attempt, by reading: “Not my virginity yet.—You're for the court, “There shall your master,” &c. Some such clause has, I think, dropped out, but still the first words want connection. Perhaps Parolles, going away from his harangue, said, “Will you any thing with me?” to which Helen may reply.—I know not what to do with the passage. Johnson. I do not perceive so great a want of connection as my predecessors have apprehended; nor is that connection always to be sought for, in so careless a writer as ours, from the thought immediately preceding the reply of the speaker. Parolles has been laughing at the unprofitableness of virginity, especially when it grows ancient, and compares it to withered fruit. Helena, properly enough, replies, that hers is not yet in that state; but that in the enjoyment of her, his master should find the gratification of all his most romantic wishes. What Dr. Warburton says afterwards is said at random, as all positive declarations of the same kind must of necessity be. Were I to propose any change, I would read should instead of shall. It does not, however, appear that this rapturous effusion of Helena was designed to be intelligible to Parolles. Its obscurity, therefore, may be its merit. It sufficiently explains what is passing in the mind of the speaker, to every one but him to whom she does not mean to explain it. Steevens. Perhaps we should read: “Will you any thing with us?” i. e. will you send any thing with us to court? to which Helena's answer would be proper enough— “Not my virginity yet.” A similar phrase occurs in Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. I.: “You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?” Tyrwhitt. Perhaps something has been omitted in Parolles's speech: “I am now bound for the court;” “will you any thing with it [i. e. with the court!]” So, in The Winter's Tale: “Tell me what you have to the king.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “What would'st thou have to Athens?” I do not agree with Mr. Steevens in the latter part of his note; “&lblank; that in the enjoyment of her,” &c. Malone. I am satisfied the passage is as Shakspeare left it. Parolles, after having cried down, with all his eloquence, old virginity, in reference to what he had before said, “That virginity is a commodity the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request,” asks Helena,— “Will you any thing with it?”—to which she replies—“Not my virginity yet.” Henley.

Note return to page 920 4A phœnix, &c.] The eight lines following friend, I am persuaded, is the nonsense of some foolish conceited player. What put it into his head was Helen's saying, as it should be read for the future: “There shall your master have a thousand loves; “A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, “I know not what he shall—God send him well.” Where the fellow, finding a thousand loves spoken of, and only three reckoned up, namely, a mother's, a mistress's, and a friend's, (which, by the way, were all a judicious writer could mention; for there are but three species of love in nature,) he would help out the number, by the intermediate nonsense: and, because they were yet too few, he pieces out his loves with enmities, and makes of the whole such finished nonsense, as is never heard out of Bedlam. Warburton.

Note return to page 921 5&lblank; captain,] Our author often uses this word for a head or chief. So, in one of his Sonnets: “Or captain jewels in the carkanet.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; the ass more captain than the lion.” Again, more appositely, in Othello, where it is applied to Desdemona: “&lblank; our great captain's captain. We find some of these terms of endearment again used in The Winter's Tale. Leontes says to the young Mamillius, “Come, captain, we must be neat,” &c. Again, in the same scene, Polixenes, speaking of his son, says: “He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter; “Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; “My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all.” Malone.

Note return to page 922 6&lblank; a traitress.] It seems that traitress was in that age a term of endearment, for when Lafeu introduces Helena to the king, he says, “You are like a traytor, but such traytors his majesty does not much fear.” Johnson. I cannot conceive that traitress (spoken seriously) was in any age a term of endearment. From the present passage, we might as well suppose enemy (in the last line but one) to be a term of endearment. In the other passage quoted, Lafeu is plainly speaking ironically. Tyrwhitt. “Traditora, a traitress,” in the Italian language, is generally used as a term of endearment. The meaning of Helena is, that she shall prove every thing to Bertram. Our ancient writers delighted in catalogues, and always characterize love by contratrarieties. Steevens. Falstaff, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, says to Mrs. Ford: “Thou art a traitor to say so.” In his interview with her, he certainly meant to use the language of love. Helena, however, I think, does not mean to say that she shall prove every thing to Bertram, but to express her apprehension that he will find at the court some lady or ladies who shall prove every thing to him; (“a phœnix, captain, counsellor, traitress;” &c.) to whom he will give all the fond names that “blinking Cupid gossips.” Malone. I believe it would not be difficult to find in the love poetry of those times an authority for most, if not for every one, of these whimsical titles. At least I can affirm it from knowledge, that far the greater part of them are to be found in the Italian lyrick poetry, which was the model from which our poets chiefly copied. Heath.

Note return to page 923 7&lblank; christendoms,] This word, which signifies the collective body of christianity, every place where the christian religion is embraced, is surely used with much licence on the present occasion. It is also employed with a similar sense in an Epitaph “On an only Child,” which the reader will find at the end of Wit's Recreations, 1640: “As here a name and christendome to obtain, “And to his Maker then return again.” Steevens. It is used by another ancient writer in the same sense; so that the word probably bore, in our author's time, the signification which he has affixed to it. So, in A Royal Arbor of Loyal Poesie, by Thomas Jordan, no date, but printed about 1661: “She is baptiz'd in Christendom, [i. e. by a christian name,] “The Jew cries out he's undone &lblank;.” These lines are found in a ballad formed on part of the story of The Merchant of Venice, in which it is remarkable that it is the Jew's daughter, and not Portia, that saves the Merchant's life by pleading his cause. There should seem therefore to have been some novel on this subject that has hitherto escaped the researches of the commentators. In the same book are ballads founded on the fables of Much Ado About Nothing, and The Winter's Tale. The term in the text is used by Nash in Four Letters Confuted: “But for an author to renounce his Christendome to write in his owne commendation, to refuse the name which his Godfathers and Godmothers gave him in his baptisme,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 924 8And show what we alone must think;] And show by realities what we now must only think. Johnson.

Note return to page 925 9&lblank; is a virtue of a good wing,] Mr. Edwards is of opinion, that a “virtue of a good wing” refers to his nimbleness or fleetness in running away. The phrase, however, is taken from falconry, as may appear from the following passage in Marston's Fawne, 1606: “I love my horse after a journeying easiness, as he is easy in journeying: my hawk, for the goodness of his wing,” &c. Or it may be taken from dress. So, in Every Man out of his Humour: “I would have mine such a suit without a difference; such stuff, such a wing, such a sleeve,” &c. Mr. Tollet observes, that a good wing signifies a strong wing in Lord Bacon's Natural History, experiment 866:—“Certainly many birds of a good wing (as kites and the like) would bear up a good weight as they fly.” The same phrase, however, anciently belonged to archery. So Ascham, in his Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 57: “&lblank; another shaft—because it is lower feathered, or else because it is of a better wing,” &c. Steevens. The reading of the old copy (which Dr. Warburton changed to ming) is supported by a passage in King Henry V. in which we meet with a similar expression: “Though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Yet let me wonder, Harry, “At thy affections, which do hold a wing, “Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.” Malone. The meaning of this passage appears to be this: “If your valour will suffer you to go backward for advantage, and your fear for the same reason will make you run away, the composition that your valour and fear make in you, must be a virtue that will fly far and swiftly.”—A bird of a good wing, is a bird of swift and strong flight. Though the latter part of this sentence is sense as it stands I cannot help thinking that there is an error in it, and that we ought to read—“And is like to wear well,” instead of “I like the wear well.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 926 1&lblank; so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel,] i. e. thou wilt comprehend it. See a note in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 399, on the words— “Whose form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, “Would make them capable.” Malone. The word in this sense occurs a few pages before this: “&lblank; heart too capable “Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.” Boswell.

Note return to page 927 2What power is it, which mounts my love so high; That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?] She means, by what influence is my love directed to a person so much above me? why am I made to discern excellence, and left to long after it, without the food of hope? Johnson.

Note return to page 928 3&lblank; kiss like native things.] Things formed by nature for each other. M. Mason. So, in Chapman's metrical “Address to the Reader,” prefixed to his translation of Homer's Iliad, 1611: “Our monosyllables so kindly fall “And meete, opposde in rime, as they did kisse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 929 4The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts, to those That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose, What hath been &lblank;] All these four lines are obscure, and, I believe, corrupt; I shall propose an emendation, which those who can explain the present reading, are at liberty to reject: “Through mightiest space in fortune nature brings “Likes to join likes, and kiss like native things.” That is, nature brings like qualities and dispositions to meet through any distance that fortune may set between them; she joins them and makes them kiss like things born together. The next lines I read with Sir T. Hanmer: “Impossible be strange attempts to those “That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose “What ha'n't been, cannot be.” New attempts seem impossible to those who estimate their labour or enterprises by sense, and believe that nothing can be but what they see before them. Johnson. I understand the meaning to be this—“The affections given us by nature often unite persons between whom fortune or accident has placed the greatest distance or disparity; and cause them to join, like likes (instar parium) like persons in the same situation or rank of life.” Thus (as Mr. Steevens has observed) in Timon of Athens: “Thou solderest close impossibilities, “And mak'st them kiss.” This interpretation is strongly confirmed by a subsequent speech of the Countess's steward, who is supposed to have overheard this soliloquy of Helena: “Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates.” “The mightiest space in fortune,” for “persons the most widely separated by fortune,” is certainly a licentious expression; but it is such a licence as Shakspeare often takes. Thus, in Cymbeline, “the diminution of space” is used for the diminution, of which space, or distance, is the cause. If he had written spaces, (as in Troilus and Cressida, “&lblank; her whom we know well “The world's large spaces cannot parallel,)” the passage would have been more clear; but he was confined by the metre. We might, however, read— “The mightiest space in nature fortune brings “To join,” &c. i. e. accident sometimes unites those whom inequality of rank has separated. But I believe the text is right. Malone.

Note return to page 930 5&lblank; Senoys &lblank;] The Sanesi, as they are termed by Boccace. Painter, who translates him, calls them Senois. They were the people of a small republick, of which the capital was Sienna. The Florentines were at perpetual variance with them. Steevens.

Note return to page 931 6&lblank; Rousillon,] The old copy reads Rosignoll. Steevens.

Note return to page 932 7&lblank; It much repairs me To talk of your good father:] To repair, in these plays, generally signifies, to renovate. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; O disloyal thing, “That should'st repair my youth!” Malone.

Note return to page 933 8He had the wit, which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest, Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, Ere they can hide their levity in honour.] I believe honour is not dignity of birth or rank, but acquired reputation:—“Your father, (says the king,) had the same airy flights of satirical wit with the young lords of the present time, but they do not what he did, hide their unnoted levity, in honour, cover petty faults with great merit.” This is an excellent observation. Jocose follies, and slight offences, are only allowed by mankind in him that over-powers them by great qualities. Johnson. Point thus: “He had the wit, which I can well observe “To-day in our young lords: but they may jest, “Till their own scorn returns to them, un-noted, “Ere they can hide their levity in honour, “So like a courtier. Contempt,” &c. Blackstone. The punctuation recommended by Sir William Blackstone is, I believe, the true one, at least it is such as deserves the reader's consideration. Steevens.

Note return to page 934 9So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awak'd them;] Nor was used without reduplication. So, in Measure for Measure: “More nor less to others paying, “Than by self-offences weighing.” The old text needs to be explained. He was so like a courtier, that there was in “his dignity of manner nothing contemptuous, and in his keenness of wit nothing bitter.” If bitterness or contemptuousness ever appeared, they had been awakened by some injury, not of a man below him, but of his equal. This is the complete image of a well-bred man, and somewhat like this Voltaire has exhibited his hero, Lewis XIV. Johnson.

Note return to page 935 1His tongue obey'd his hand:] We should read—“His tongue obey'd the hand.” That is, “the hand of his honour's clock,” showing “the true minute when exceptions bad him speak.” Johnson. His is put for its. So, in Othello: “&lblank; her motion “Blush'd at herself.”—instead of itself. Steevens.

Note return to page 936 2He us'd as creatures of another place;] i. e. he made allowances for their conduct, and bore from them what he would not from one of his own rank. The Oxford editor, not understanding the sense, has altered another place to a brother-race. Warburton. I doubt whether this was our author's meaning. I rather incline to think that he meant only, “that the father of Bertram treated those below him with becoming condescension, as creatures not indeed in so high a place as himself, but yet holding a certain place; as one of the links, though not the largest, of the great chain of society.” In The Winter's Tale, place is again used for rank or situation in life: “&lblank; O thou thing, “Which I'll not call a creature of thy place.” Malone.

Note return to page 937 3Making them proud of his humility, In their poor praise he humbled:] But why were they proud of his humility? It should be read and pointed thus: “Making them proud; and his humility, “In their poor praise, he humbled &lblank;.” i. e. by condescending to stoop to his inferiors, he exalted them and made them proud; and, in the gracious receiving their poor praise, he humbled even his humility. The sentiment is fine. Warburton. Every man has seen the mean too often proud of the humility of the great, and perhaps the great may sometimes be humbled in the praises of the mean, of those who commend them without conviction or discernment: this, however, is not so common; the mean are found more frequently than the great. Johnson. I think the meaning is,—“Making them proud of receiving such marks of condescension and affability from a person in so elevated a situation, and at the same time lowering or humbling himself, by stooping to accept of the encomiums of mean persons for that humility.” The construction seems to be, “he being humbled in their poor praise.” Malone. Giving them a better opinion of their own importance, by his condescending manner of behaving to them. M. Mason.

Note return to page 938 4So in approof lives not his epitaph, As in your royal speech.] Epitaph for character. Warburton. I should wish to read— “Approof so lives not in his epitaph, “As in your royal speech.” Approof is approbation. If I should allow Dr. Warburton's interpretation of epitaph, which is more than can be reasonably expected, I can yet find no sense in the present reading. Johnson. We might, by a slight transposition, read— “So his approof lives not in epitaph.” Approof certainly means approbation. So, in Cynthia's Revenge: “A man so absolute in my approof, “That nature hath reserv'd small dignity “That he enjoys not.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Either of commendation or approof.” Steevens. Perhaps the meaning is this:—“His epitaph or inscription on his tomb is not so much in approbation or commendation of him, as is your royal speech.” Tollet. There can be no doubt but the word approof is frequently used in the sense of approbation, but this is not always the case; and in this place it signifies proof or confirmation. The meaning of the passage appears to be this: “The truth of his epitaph is in no way so fully proved, as by your royal speech. It is needless to remark, that epitaphs generally contain the character and praises of the deceased. Approof is used in the same sense by Bertram, in the second Act: “Laf. But I hope your lordship thinks him not a soldier. “Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.” M. Mason. Mr. Heath supposes the meaning to be this: “His epitaph, or the character he left behind him, is not so well established by the specimens he exhibited of his worth, as by your royal report in his favour.” The passage above quoted from Act II. supports this interpretation. Malone.

Note return to page 939 5Thus &lblank;] Old copy—This. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 940 6&lblank; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments;] Who have no other use of their faculties, than to invent new modes of dress. Johnson. I have a suspicion that Shakspeare wrote—“Mere feathers of their garments;” i. e. whose judgments are merely parts (and insignificant parts) of their dress, worn and laid aside, as feathers are, from the mere love of novelty and change. He goes on to say, that they are even less constant in their judgments than in their dress: “&lblank; their constancies “Expire before their fashions.” Tyrwhitt. The reading of the old copy—fathers, is supported by a similar passage in Cymbeline: “&lblank; some jay of Italy “Whose mother was her painting &lblank;.” Again, in the same play: “&lblank; No, nor thy tailor, rascal, “Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, “Which, as it seems, make thee.” There the garment is said to be the father of the man:—in the text, the judgment, being employed solely in forming or giving birth to new dresses, is called the father of the garment. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; every minute now “Should be the father of some stratagem.” Malone.

Note return to page 941 7&lblank; nature and sickness Debate it &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “Death and nature do contend about them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 942 8&lblank; Steward, and Clown.] A Clown in Shakspeare is commonly taken for a licensed jester, or domestick fool. We are not to wonder that we find this character often in his plays, since fools were at that time maintained in all great families, to keep up merriment in the house. In the picture of Sir Thomas More's family, by Hans Holbein, the only servant represented is Patison the fool. This is a proof of the familiarity to which they were admitted, not by the great only, but the wise. In some plays, a servant, or a rustic, of a remarkable petulance and freedom of speech, is likewise called a clown. Johnson. Cardinal Wolsey, after his disgrace, wishing to show King Henry VIII. a mark of his respect, sent him his fool Patch, as a present; whom, says Stowe, “the King received very gladly.” Malone. This dialogue, or that in Twelfth-Night, between Olivia and the Clown, seems to have been particularly censured by Cartwright, in one of the copies of verses prefixed to the works of Beaumont and Fletcher: “Shakspeare to thee was dull, whose best jest lies “I' th' lady's questions, and the fool's replies; “Old fashion'd wit, which walk'd from town to town “In trunk-hose, which our fathers call the Clown.” In the MS. Register of Lord Stanhope of Harrington, treasurer of the chamber to King James I. from 1613 to 1616, are the following entries: “Tom Derry, his majesty's fool, at 2s. per diem,—1615: Paid John Mawe for the diet and lodging of Thomas Derrie, her majesty's jester, for 13 weeks, 10l. 18s. 6d.—1616.” Steevens. The following lines in The Careless Shepherdess, a comedy, 1656, exhibit probably a faithful portrait of this once admired character: “Why, I would have the fool in every act, “Be it comedy or tragedy. I have laugh'd “Untill I cry'd again, to see what faces “The rogue will make.—O, it does me good “To see him hold out his chin, hang down his hands, “And twirl his bable. There is ne'er a part “About him but breaks jests.— “I'd rather hear him leap, or laugh, or cry, “Than hear the gravest speech in all the play. “I never saw Reade peeping through the curtain, “But ravishing joy enter'd into my heart.” Malone.

Note return to page 943 9&lblank; to even your content,] To act up to your desires. Johnson.

Note return to page 944 1&lblank; when of ourselves we publish them.] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “The worthiness of praise disdains his worth, “If he that's prais'd, himself brings the praise forth.” Malone.

Note return to page 945 2&lblank; you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.] After premising that the accusative, them, refers to the precedent word, complaints, and that this, by a metonymy of the effect for the cause, stands for the freaks which occasioned those complaints, the sense will be extremely clear: “You are fool enough to commit those irregularities you are charged with, and yet not so much fool neither, as to discredit the accusation by any defect in your ability.” Heath. It appears to me that the accusative them refers to knaveries, and the natural sense of the passage seems to be this: “You have folly enough to desire to commit these knaveries, and ability enough to accomplish them.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 946 3&lblank; to go to the world,] This phrase has already occurred in Much Ado About Nothing, and signifies to be married: and thus, in As You Like It, Audrey says: “&lblank; it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of the world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 947 4&lblank; and I &lblank;] I, which was inadvertently omitted in the first copy, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone. In the first folio, w is put for I. Boswell.

Note return to page 948 5Service is no heritage:] This is a proverbial expression. “Needs must when the devil drives,” is another. Ritson.

Note return to page 949 7Clo. You are shallow, madam; e'en great friends;] The meaning [i. e. of the ancient reading mentioned in the subsequent note] seems to be, you are not deeply skilled in the character or offices of great friends. Johnson. The old copy reads—in great friends; evidently a mistake for e'en, which was formerly written e'n. The two words are so near in sound, that they might easily have been confounded by an inattentive hearer. The same mistake has happened in many other places in our author's plays. So, in the present comedy, Act III. Sc. II. folio, 1623: “Lady. What have we here? “Clown. In that you have there.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “No more, but in a woman.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “Tis with him in standing water, between boy and man.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, 1599: “Is it in so?” The corruption of this passage was pointed out by Mr. Tyrwhitt. For the emendation now made, I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 950 8&lblank; the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a-weary of.] The same thought is more dilated in an old MS. play, entitled, The Second Maid's Tragedy: “Soph. I have a wife, would she were so preferr'd! “I could but be her subject; so I am now. “I allow her her owne frend to stop her mowth, “And keep her quiet; give him his table free, “And the huge feeding of his great stone-horse, “On which he rides in pompe about the cittie “Only to speake to gallants in bay-windowes. “Marry, his lodging he paies deerly for; “He getts me all my children, there I save by't; “Beside, I drawe my life owte by the bargaine “Some twelve yeres longer than the tymes appointed; “When my young prodigal gallant kicks up's heels “At one and thirtie, and lies dead and rotten “Some five and fortie yeares before I'm coffin'd. “'Tis the right waie to keep a woman honest: “One friend is baracadoe to a hundred, “And keepes 'em owte; nay more, a husband's sure “To have his children all of one man's gettinge; “And he that performes best, can have no better: “I'm e'en as happie then that save a labour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 951 9&lblank; that ears my land,] To ear is to plough. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound “With keels of every kind.” Steevens. See 1 Sam. viii. 12, Isaiah, xxx. 24, Deut. xxi. 4, Gen. xlv. 6, Exod. xxxiv. 21, for the use of this verb. Henley.

Note return to page 952 1Young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist.] I apprehend this should be read old Poisson the papist, alluding to the custom of eating fish on fast days. Charbon the puritan alludes to the firy zeal of that sect. So, Camden, in his Account of the Death of Henry, the Third Earl of Huntingdon, describes him thus; “purioris religionis studio inflammatus, ministros flagrantiores impendiosè fovendo patrimonium plurimum imminuit.” Malone.

Note return to page 953 2A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:] It is a supposition, which has run through all ages and people, that natural fools have something in them of divinity. On which account they were esteemed sacred: Travellers tell us in what esteem the Turks now hold them; nor had they less honour paid them heretofore in France, as appears from the old word bénet, for a natural fool. Hence it was that Pantagruel, in Rabelais, advised Panurge to go and consult the fool Triboulet as an oracle; which gives occasion to a satirical stroke upon the privy council of Francis the First—“Par l'avis, conseil, prediction des fols vos scavez quants princes, &c. ont esté conservez,” &c. The phrase—“speak the truth the next way,” means directly; as they do who are only the instruments or canals of others; such as inspired persons were supposed to be. Warburton. See the popular story of Nixon the Idiot's Cheshire Prophecy. Douce. Next way, is nearest way. So, in K. Henry IV. Part I.: “'Tis the next way to turn tailor,” &c. Steevens. “Next way” is a phrase still used in Warwickshire, and signifies without circumlocution, or going about. Henley.

Note return to page 954 3&lblank; sings by kind.] I find something like two of the lines of this ballad in John Grange's Garden, 1577: “Content yourself as well as I, let reason rule your minde, “As cuckoldes come by destinie, so cuckowes sing by kinde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 955 4Was this fair face the cause, &c.] The name of Helen, whom the Countess has just called for, brings an old ballad on the sacking of Troy to the Clown's mind. Malone. This is a stanza of an old ballad, out of which a word or two are dropt, equally necessary to make the sense and alternate rhyme. For it was not Helen, who was King Priam's joy, but Paris. The third line, therefore, should be read thus: “Fond done, fond done, for Paris, he &lblank;.” Warburton. If this be a stanza taken from any ancient ballad, it will probably in time be found entire, and then the restoration may be made with authority. Steevens. In confirmation of Dr. Warburton's conjecture, Mr. Theobald has quoted, from Fletcher's Maid in the Mill, the following stanza of another old ballad: “And here fair Paris comes,   “The hopeful youth of Troy, “Queen Hecuba's darling son,   “King Priam's only joy.” This renders it extremely probable, that Paris was the person described as “king Priam's joy,” in the ballad quoted by our author; but Mr. Heath has justly observed, that Dr. Warburton, though he has supplied the words supposed to be lost, has not explained them; nor, indeed, do they seem, as they are connected, to afford any meaning. In 1585 was entered on the Stationers' books, by Edward White, The Lamentation of Hecuba, and the Ladyes of Troye; which probably contained the stanza here quoted. Malone. I am told that this work is little more than a dull amplification of the latter part of the twenty-fourth book of Homer's Iliad. I also learn, from a memorandum by Dr. Farmer, that The Life and Death of St. George, a ballad, begins as follows: “Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing,   “And of the sack of stately Troy; “What grief fair Helen did them bring   “Which was Sir Paris' only joy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 956 5Fond done,] Is foolishly done. So, in King Richard III. Act III. Sc. III.: “&lblank; Sorrow and grief of heart, “Makes him speak fondly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 957 6With that she sighed as she stood,] At the end of the line of which this is a repetition, we find added in Italick characters the word bis, denoting, I suppose, the necessity of its being repeated. The corresponding line was twice printed, as it is here inserted, from the oldest copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 958 7Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten.] This second stanza of the ballad is turned to a joke upon the women: a confession, that there was one good in ten. Whereon the Countess observed, that he corrupted the song; which shows the song said—“nine good in ten.” “If one be bad amongst nine good, “There's but one bad in ten.” This relates to the ten sons of Priam, who all behaved themselves well but Paris. For, though he once had fifty, yet, at this unfortunate period of his reign, he had but ten; Agathon, Antiphon, Deiphobus, Dius, Hector, Helenus, Hippothous, Pammon, Paris, and Politoes. Warburton.

Note return to page 959 8&lblank; but every blazing star,] The old copy reads—“but ore every blazing star.” Steevens. I suppose o'er was a misprint for or, which was used by our old writers for before. Malone.

Note return to page 960 9&lblank; 'twould mend the lottery well;] This surely is a strange kind of phraseology. I have never met with any example of it in any of the contemporary writers; and if there were any proof that in the lotteries of Queen Elizabeth's time wheels were employed, I should be inclined to read—lottery wheel. Malone.

Note return to page 961 1Clo. That man, &c.] The Clown's answer is obscure. His lady bids him do as he is commanded. He answers, with the licentious petulance of his character, that “if a man does as a woman commands, it is likely he will do amiss;” that he does not amiss, being at the command of a woman, he makes the effect, not of his lady's goodness, but of his own honesty, which, though not very nice or puritanical, will do no hurt; and will not only do no hurt, but, unlike the puritans, will comply with the injunctions of superiors, and wear the “surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart;” will obey commands, though not much pleased with a state of subjection. Here is an allusion, violently enough forced in, to satirize the obstinacy with which the puritans refused the use of the ecclesiastical habits, which was, at that time, one principal cause of the breach of the union, and, perhaps, to insinuate, that the modest purity of the surplice was sometimes a cover for pride. Johnson. The aversion of the puritans to a surplice is alluded to in many of the old comedies. So, in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “&lblank; She loves to act in as clean linen as any gentlewoman of her function about the town; and truly that's the reason that your sincere puritans cannot abide a surplice, because they say 'tis made of the same thing that your villainous sin is committed in, of your prophane holland.” Again, in The Match at Midnight, 1633: “He has turn'd my stomach for all the world like a puritan's at the sight of a surplice.” Again, in The Hollander, 1640: “&lblank; A puritan, who, because he saw a surplice in the church, would needs hang himself in the bell-ropes.” Steevens. I cannot help thinking we should read—“Though honesty be a puritan &lblank;.” Tyrwhitt Surely Mr. Tyrwhitt's correction is right. If our author had meant to say—“though honesty be no puritan,”—why should he add—“that it would wear the surplice,” &c. or, in other words, that it would be content to assume a covering that puritans in general reprobated? What would there be extraordinary in this? Is it matter of wonder, that he who is no puritan, should be free from the scruples and prejudices of one? The Clown, I think, means to say, “Though honesty be rigid and conscientious as a puritan, yet it will not be obstinate, but humbly comply with the lawful commands of its superiors, while, at the same time, its proud spirit inwardly revolts against them.” I suspect, however, a still farther corruption; and that the compositor caught the words “no hurt” from the preceding line. Our author, perhaps, wrote—“Though honesty be a puritan, yet it will do what is enjoined; it will wear the surplice of humility, over the black gown of a big heart.” I will, therefore, obey my mistress, however reluctantly, and go for Helena. Malone.

Note return to page 962 1&lblank; only where qualities were level;] The meaning may be, ‘where qualities only, and not fortunes or conditions, were level.’ Or, perhaps, only is used for except:‘&lblank; that would not extend his might, except where two persons were of equal rank.’ Malone.

Note return to page 963 2&lblank; Love, no god, &c. Diana, no queen of virgins, &c.] This passage stands thus in the old copies: “Love, no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight,” &c. 'Tis evident to every sensible reader that something must have slipt out here, by which the meaning of the context is rendered defective. The steward is speaking in the very words he overheard of the young lady; fortune was no goddess, she said, for one reason; love, no god, for another;—what could she then more naturally subjoin, than as I have amended in the text: “Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised without rescue,” &c. For, in poetical history, Diana was as well known to preside over chastity, as Cupid over love, or Fortune over the change or regulation of our circumstances. Theobald. Diana's knight is elsewhere used for a virgin. See vol. vii. p. 154. Boswell.

Note return to page 964 3&lblank; sithence,] i. e. since. So, in Spenser's State of Ireland: “&lblank; the beginning of all other evils which sithence have afflicted that land.” Chaucer frequently uses sith, and sithen, in the same sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 965 4If we are nature's,] The old copy reads—“If ever we are nature's.” Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 966 5By our remembrances &lblank;] That is, according to our recollection. So we say, he is old by my reckoning. Johnson.

Note return to page 967 6Such were our faults;—or then we thought them none.] We should read:—“O! then we thought them none.” A motive for pity and pardon, agreeable to fact, and the indulgent character of the speaker. This was sent to the Oxford editor, and he altered O, to though. Warburton. Such were the faulty weaknesses of which I was guilty in my youth, or such at least were then my feelings, though, perhaps, at that period of my life, I did not think they deserved the name of faults. Dr. Warburton, without necessity, as it seems to me, reads—“O! then we thought them none;”—and the subsequent editors adopted the alteration. Malone.

Note return to page 968 7&lblank; and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds:] And our choice furnishes us with a slip propagated to us from foreign seeds, which we educate and treat, as if it were native to us, and sprung from ourselves. Heath.

Note return to page 969 8&lblank; What's the matter, That this distemper'd messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?] There is something exquisitely beautiful in this representation of that suffusion of colours which glimmers around the sight when the eye-lashes are wet with tears. The poet hath described the same appearance in his Rape of Lucrece: “And round about her tear-distained eye “Blue circles stream'd like rainbows in the sky.” Henley.

Note return to page 970 9&lblank; or were you both our mothers, I care no more for, than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister:] There is a designed ambiguity: “I care no more for,” is, “I care as much for. I wish it equally.” Farmer. In Troilus and Cressida we find—“I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.” There the words certainly mean, I should not be sorry or unwilling to be, &c. According to this, then, the meaning of the passage before us should be, “If you were mother to us both, it would not give me more solicitude than heaven gives me,—so I were not his sister.” But Helena certainly would not confess an indifference about her future state. However, she may mean, as Dr. Farmer has suggested, “I should not care more than, but equally as, I care for future happiness; I should be as content, and solicit it as much, as I pray for the bliss of heaven.” Malone.

Note return to page 971 1&lblank; Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?] The meaning is obscured by the elliptical diction. Can it be no other way, but if I be your daughter, he must be my brother? Johnson.

Note return to page 972 2&lblank; strive &lblank;] To strive is to contend. So, in Cymbeline: “That it did strive in workmanship and value!” Steevens.

Note return to page 973 3&lblank; Now I see The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears' head.] The old copy reads—loveliness. Steevens. The mystery of her loveliness is beyond my comprehension: the old Countess is saying nothing ironical, nothing taunting, or in reproach, that this word should find a place here; which it could not, unless sarcastically employed, and with some spleen. I dare warrant the poet meant his old lady should say no more than this: “I now find the mystery of your creeping into corners, and weeping, and pining in secret.” For this reason I have amended the text, loneliness. The Steward, in the foregoing scene, where he gives the Countess intelligence of Helena's behaviour, says— “Alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears.” Theobald. The late Mr. Hall had corrected this, I believe, rightly,—your lowliness. Tyrwhitt. I think Theobald's correction as plausible. To choose solitude is a mark of love. Steevens. “Your salt tears' head.” The source, the fountain of your tears, the cause of your grief. Johnson.

Note return to page 974 4&lblank; in their kind &lblank;] i. e. in their language, according to their nature. Steevens.

Note return to page 975 5&lblank; captious and intenible sieve,] The word captious I never found in this sense; yet I cannot tell what to substitute, unless carious for rotten, which yet is a word more likely to have been mistaken by the copiers than used by the author. Johnson. Dr. Farmer supposes captious to be a contraction of capacious. As violent ones are to be found among our ancient writers, and especially in Churchyard's Poems, with which Shakspeare was not unacquainted. Steevens. By captious, I believe Shakspeare only meant recipient, capable of receiving what is put into it; and by intenible, incapable of holding or retaining it. How frequently he and the other writers of his age confounded the active and passive adjectives, has been already more than once observed. The original copy reads—intemible. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 976 6And lack not to lose still:] Perhaps we should read— “And lack not to love still.” Tyrwhitt. I believe lose is right. So afterwards, in this speech: “&lblank; whose state is such, that cannot choose “But lend and give, where she is sure to lose.” Helena means, I think, to say that, like a person who pours water into a vessel full of holes, and still continues his employment, though he finds the water all lost, and the vessel empty, so, though she finds that the waters of her love are still lost, that her affection is thrown away on an object whom she thinks she never can deserve, she yet is not discouraged, but perseveres in her hopeless endeavour to accomplish her wishes. The poet evidently alludes to the trite story of the daughters of Danaus. Malone.

Note return to page 977 7Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,] i. e. whose respectable conduct in age shows, or proves, that you were no less virtuous when young. As a fact is proved by citing witnesses, or examples from books, our author, with his usual licence, uses to cite, in the same sense of to prove. Malone.

Note return to page 978 8Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love;] i. e. Venus, Helena means to say—“If ever you wished that the deity who presides over chastity, and the queen of amorous rites, were one and the same person; or, in other words, if ever you wished for the honest and lawful completion of your chaste desires.” I believe, however, the words were accidentally transposed at the press, and would read— “Love dearly, and wish chastly, that your Dian,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 979 9&lblank; tell true.] This is an evident interpolation. It is needless, because it repeats what the Countess had already said: it is injurious, because it spoils the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 980 1&lblank; notes, whose faculties inclusive &lblank;] Receipts in which greater virtues were inclosed than appeared to observation. Johnson.

Note return to page 981 2Embowell'd of their doctrine,] i. e. exhausted of their skill. So, in the old spurious play of K. John: “Back war-men, back; embowel not the clime.” Steevens.

Note return to page 982 3There's something hints More than my father's skill, &lblank; &lblank; that his good receipt, &c.] The old copy reads— something in't. Steevens. Here is an inference [that] without any thing preceding, to which it refers, which makes the sentence vicious, and shows that we should read— “There's something hints “More than my father's skill,— “&lblank; that his good receipt &lblank;” i. e. I have a secret premonition, or presage. Warburton. This necessary correction was made by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 983 4&lblank; into thy attempt:] So in the old copy. We might more intelligibly read, according to the third folio—“unto thy attempt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 984 5Farewell, &c.] In all the latter copies these lines stood thus: “Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles “Do not throw from you. You, my lords, farewell; “Share the advice betwixt you; if both again, “The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd.” The third line in that state was unintelligible. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads thus: “Farewell, young lord: these warlike principles “Do not throw from you; you, my lord, farewell; “Share the advice betwixt you: If both gain, well! “The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, “And is enough for both.” The first edition, from which the passage is restored, was sufficiently clear: yet it is plain, that the latter editors preferred a reading which they did not understand. Johnson.

Note return to page 985 6&lblank; and you, my lord, farewell:] The old copy, both in this and the following instance, reads—lords. Steevens. It does not any where appear that more than two French lords (besides Bertram) went to serve in Italy; and therefore, I think, the King's speech should be corrected thus: “Farewell, young lord; these warlike principles “Do not throw from you; and you, my lord, farewell;” what follows, shows this correction to be necessary: “Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,” &c. Tyrwhitt. Betram, it was supposed, was to stay at home; and therefore this speech could not properly be addressed to him. Boswell. Tyrwhitt's emendation is clearly right. Advice is the only thing that may be shared between two, and yet both gain all. M. Mason.

Note return to page 986 7&lblank; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege.] i. e. as the common phrase runs, I am still heart-whole; my spirits, by not sinking under my distemper, do not acknowledge its influence. Steevens.

Note return to page 987 8&lblank; let higher Italy (Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy,) see, &c.] The ancient geographers have divided Italy into the higher and the lower, the Apennine hills being a kind of natural line of partition; the side next the Adriatic was denominated the higher Italy, and the other side the lower: and the two seas followed the same terms of distinction, the Adriatic being called the upper Sea, and the Tyrrhene or Tuscan the lower. Now the Sennones, or Senois, with whom the Florentines are here supposed to be at war, inhabited the higher Italy, their chief town being Arminium, now called Rimini, upon the Adriatic. Hanmer. Italy, at the time of this scene, was under three very different tenures. The emperor, as successor of the Roman emperors, had one part; the pope, by a pretended donation from Constantine, another; and the third was composed of free states. Now by the last monarchy is meant the Roman, the last of the four general monarchies. Upon the fall of this monarchy, in the scramble, several cities set up for themselves, and became free states: now these might be said properly to inherit the fall of the monarchy. This being premised, let us now consider sense. The King says higher Italy;—giving it the rank of preference to France; but he corrects himself, and says, I except those from that precedency, who only inherit the fall of the last monarchy; as all the little petty states; for instance, Florence, to whom these volunteers were going. As if he had said, I give the place of honour to the emperor and the pope, but not to the free states. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer reads: “Those bastards that inherit,” &c. with this note: “Reflecting upon the abject and degenerate condition of the cities and states which arose out of the ruins of the Roman empire, the last of the four great monarchies of the world.” Dr. Warburton's observation is learned, but rather too subtle; Sir Thomas Hanmer's alteration is merely arbitrary. The passage is confessedly obscure, and therefore I may offer another explanation. I am of opinion that the epithet higher is to be understood of situation rather than of dignity. The sense may then be this: ‘Let upper Italy, where you are to exercise your valour, see that you come to gain honour, to the abatement, that is, to the disgrace and depression of those that have now lost their ancient military fame, and inherit but the fall of the last monarchy.’ To abate is used by Shakspeare in the original sense of abatre, to depress, to sink, to deject, to subdue. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; till ignorance deliver you, “As most abated captives to some nation “That won you without blows.” And bated is used in a kindred sense in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; in a bondman's key, “With bated breath, and whisp'ring humbleness.” The word has still the same meaning in the language of the law. Johnson. In confirmation of Johnson's opinion, that higher relates to situation, not to dignity, we find, in the third scene of the fourth Act, that one of the Lords says: “What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again to France?” M. Mason. Those 'bated may here signify “those being taken away or excepted.” Bate, thus contracted, is in colloquial language still used with this meaning. This parenthetical sentence implies no more than ‘they excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman empire.’ Holt White.

Note return to page 988 9That fame may cry you loud:] So in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; fame with her loud'st O yes, “Cries, This is he.” Steevens.

Note return to page 989 1&lblank; beware of being captives, Before you serve.] The word serve is equivocal; the sense is, ‘Be not captives before you serve in the war.’ ‘Be not captives before you are soldiers.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 990 2&lblank; and no sword worn, But one to dance with!] It should be remembered that, in Shakspeare's time, it was usual for gentlemen to dance with swords on. Our author, who gave to all countries the manners of his own, has again alluded to this old English custom in Antony and Cleoaptara, Act III. Sc. IX.: “&lblank; He, at Philippi kept “His sword, even like a dancer.” See Mr. Steevens's note there. Malone.

Note return to page 991 3&lblank; I'll steal away &lblank; There's honour in the theft,] So, in Macbeth: “There's warrant in that theft, “Which steals itself &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 992 4I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.] I read thus—“Our parting is the parting of a tortured body.” Our parting is as the disruption of limbs torn from each other. Repetition of a word is often the cause of mistakes: the eye glances on the wrong word, and the intermediate part of the sentence is omitted. Johnson. We two growing together, and having, as it were, but one body, (“like to a double cherry, seeming parted,”) our parting is a tortured body; i. e. cannot be effected but by a disruption of limbs which are now common to both. Malone. So, in K. Henry VIII. Act II. Sc. III.: “&lblank; it is a sufferance, panging “As soul and body's severing.” Steevens. As they grow together, the tearing them asunder was torturing a body. Johnson's amendment is unnecessary. M. Mason.

Note return to page 993 5&lblank; with his cicatrice,] The old copy reads—“his cicatrice with.” Steevens. It is surprizing, none of the editors could see that a slight transposition was absolutely necessary here, when there is not common sense in the passage, as it stands without such transposition. Parolles only means, “You shall find one captain Spurio in the camp, with a scar on his left cheek, a mark of war that my sword gave him.” Theobald.

Note return to page 994 6&lblank; they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true gait, &c.] The main obscurity of this passage arises from the mistake of a single letter. We should read, instead of do muster, to muster. “To wear themselves in the cap of the time,” signifies ‘to be the foremost in the fashion:’ the figurative allusion is to the gallantry then in vogue, of wearing jewels, flowers, and their mistress's favours in their caps.—“There to muster true gait,” signifies ‘to assemble together in the high road of the fashion.’ All the rest is intelligible and easy. Warburton. I think this emendation cannot be said to give much light to the obscurity of the passage. Perhaps it might be read thus:— “They do muster with the true gait,” that is, ‘they have the true military step.’ Every man has observed something peculiar in the strut of a soldier. Johnson. Perhaps we should read—“master true gait.” To master any thing, is to learn it perfectly. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “As if he master'd there a double spirit “Of teaching and of learning &lblank;,” Again, in King Henry V.: “Between the promise of his greener days, “And those he masters now.” In this last instance, however, both the quartos, viz. 1600 and 1608, read musters. Steevens. The obscurity of the passage arises only from the fantastical language of a character like Parolles, whose affectation of wit urges his imagination from one allusion to another, without allowing time for his judgment to determine their congruity. The cap of time being the first image that occurs, true gait, manner of eating, speaking, &c. are the several ornaments which they muster, place, or arrange in time's cap. This is done under the influence of the most received star; that is, the person in the highest repute for setting the fashions:—and though the devil were to lead the measure or dance of fashion, such is their implicit submission, that even he must be followed. Henley.

Note return to page 995 7&lblank; lead the measure,] i. e. the dance. So, in Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice says: “Tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer.” Malone.

Note return to page 996 8&lblank; brought &lblank;] Some modern editions read—bought. Malone.

Note return to page 997 9&lblank; across:] This word, as has been already observed, is used when any pass of wit miscarries. Johnson. While chivalry was in vogue, breaking spears against a quintain was a favourite exercise. He who shivered the greatest number was esteemed the most adroit; but then it was to be performed exactly with the point, for if achieved by a side-stroke, or across, it showed unskilfulness, and disgraced the practiser. Here, therefore, Lafeu reflects on the King's wit, as aukward and ineffectual, and, in the terms of play, good for nothing. Holt White. See As You Like It, Act III. Sc. IV. vol. vi. p. 454. Steevens.

Note return to page 998 1&lblank; yes, but you will My noble grapes, &c.] The words—“My noble grapes,” seem to Dr. Warburton and Sir T. Hanmer to stand so much in the way, that they have silently omitted them. They may be, indeed, rejected without great loss, but I believe they are Shakspeare's words. “You will eat,” says Lafeu, “no grapes. Yes, but you will eat such noble grapes, as I bring you, if you could reach them.” Johnson.

Note return to page 999 2&lblank; medicine,] Is here put for a she-physician. Hanmer.

Note return to page 1000 3&lblank; and make you dance canary,] Mr. Richard Brome, in his comedy, entitled, The City Wit, or the Woman wears the Breeches, Act IV. Sc. I. mentions this among other dances: “As for corantoes, lavoltos, jigs, measures, pavins, brawls, galliards, or canaries; I speak it not swellingly, but I subscribe to no man.” Dr. Grey.

Note return to page 1001 4&lblank; whose simple touch, &c.] Thus, Ovid, Amor. iii. vii. 41: Illius ad tactum Pylius juvenescere possit, Tithonosque annis fortior esse suis. Steevens.

Note return to page 1002 5And write &lblank; ) I believe a line preceding this has been lost. Malone.

Note return to page 1003 6&lblank; her years, profession,] By profession is meant her declaration of the end and purpose of her coming. Warburton.

Note return to page 1004 7Than I dare blame my weakness:] This is one of Shakspeare's perplexed expressions. “To acknowledge how much she has astonished me, would be to acknowledge a weakness; and this I am unwilling to do.” Steevens. Lafeu's meaning appears to me to be this:—“That the amazement she excited in him was so great, that he could not impute it merely to his own weakness, but to the wonderful qualities of the object that occasioned it.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 1005 8Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.] So, in Othello: “'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1006 9&lblank; come your ways;] This vulgarism is also put into the mouth of Polonius. See Hamlet, Act I. Sc. III. Steevens. Why is this idiomatick phrase to be considered as a vulgarism? Lord Southampton would have used it with as little scruple as Shakspeare. It is twice used by Lafeu, a courtier, in one speech (see Act IV. Sc. V.); and by Henry the VIIIth: “Go thy ways, Kate!” The translation of the Bible has always been considered as a perfect specimen of the language of our poet's time, and there it is perpetually to be met with. For instance, Luke, x. 10. “But into whatsoever city ye enter, and they receive you not, go your ways out,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1007 1&lblank; Cressid's uncle,] I am like Pandarus. See Troilus and Cressida. Johnson.

Note return to page 1008 2&lblank; well found.] i. e. of known, acknowledged excellence. Steevens.

Note return to page 1009 3&lblank; a triple eye,] i. e. a third eye. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “The triple pillar of the world, transform'd “Into a strumpet's fool.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1010 4&lblank; wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,] Perhaps we may better read: “&lblank; wherein the power “Of my dear father's gift stands chief in honour.” Johnson.

Note return to page 1011 5So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes.] The allusion is to St. Matthew's Gospel, xi. 25: “I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” See also I Cor. i. 27: “But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.” Malone.

Note return to page 1012 6When miracles have by the greatest been denied.] I do not see the import or connection of this line. As the next line stands without a correspondent rhyme, I suspect that something has been lost. Johnson. I point the passage thus; and then I see no reason to complain of want of connection: “When judges have been babes. Great floods, &c. “When miracles have by the greatest been denied.” Shakspeare, after alluding to the production of water from a rock, and the drying up of the Red Sea, says, that miracles had been denied by the Greatest; or, in other words, that the Elders of Israel (who just before, in reference to another text, were styled judges) had, notwithstanding these miracles, wrought for their own preservation, refused that compliance they ought to have yielded. See the book of Exodus, particularly xvii. 5, 6, &c. Henley. “So holy writ,” &c. alludes to Daniel's judging, when, “a young youth,” the two Elders in the story of Susannah. Great floods, i. e. when Moses smote the rock in Horeb, Exod. xvii. “&lblank; great seas have dried “When miracles have by the greatest been denied.” Dr. Johnson did not see the import or connection of this line. It certainly refers to the children of Israel passing the Red Sea, when miracles had been denied, or not hearkened to, by Pharaoh. Holt White.

Note return to page 1013 7&lblank; and despair most sits.] The old copy reads—shifts. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 1014 8&lblank; myself against the level of mine aim;] i. e. pretend to greater things than befits the mediocrity of my condition. Warburton. I rather think that she means to say,—“I am not an impostor that proclaim one thing and design another, that proclaim a cure and aim at a fraud; I think what I speak.” Johnson.

Note return to page 1015 9The greatest grace lending grace,] I should have thought the repetition of grace to have been superfluous, if the grace of grace had not occurred in the speech with which the tragedy of Macbeth concludes. Steevens. The former grace in this passage, and the latter in Macbeth, evidently signify divine grace. Henley. The repetition of words, such as we find in this passage, seems to have been reckoned a beauty in our author's time. So Spenser, in his Pastorals: “I love thilke lasse, alas! why do I love?” Januarie, 1. 61. Again: “And joyes enjoyes that mortal men do misse.” November, 1. 196. Malone.

Note return to page 1016 1&lblank; his sleepy lamp;] Old copy—her sleepy lamp. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1017 2&lblank; a divulged shame,— Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended.] “I would bear (says she) the tax of impudence, which is the denotement of a strumpet; would endure a shame resulting from my failure in what I have undertaken, and thence become the subject of odious ballads; let my maiden reputation be otherwise branded; and, no worse of worst extended, i. e. provided nothing worse is offered to me, (meaning violation,) let my life be ended with the worst of tortures.” The poet, for the sake of rhyme, has obscured the sense of the passage. “The worst that can befal a woman, being extended to me,” seems to be the meaning of the last line. Steevens. “Tax of impudence,” that is, to be charged with having the boldness of a strumpet:—“a divulged shame;” i. e. to be traduced by odious ballads:—“my maiden's name's seared otherwise;” i. e. to be stigmatized as a prostitute:—“no worse of worst extended;” i. e. to be so defamed that nothing severer can be said against those who are most publickly reported to be infamous. Shakspeare has used the word sear and extended in The Winter's Tale, both in the same sense as above: “&lblank; for calumny will sear “Virtue itself &lblank;!” And “The report of her is extended more than can be thought.” Henley. The old copy reads, not no, but ne, probably an error for nay, or the. I would wish to read and point the latter part of the passage thus: “&lblank; my maiden's name “Sear'd otherwise; nay, worst of worst, extended “With vilest torture, let my life be ended.” i. e. Let me be otherwise branded;—and (what is the worst of worst, the consummation of misery,) my body being extended on the rack by the most cruel torture, let my life pay the forfeit of my presumption. So, in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1594: “&lblank; the worst of worst of ills.” No was introduced by the editor of the second folio. Again, in The Remedie of Love, 4to. 1600: “If she be fat, then she is swollen, say, “If browne, then tawny as the Africk Moore; “If slender, leane, meagre and worne away, “If courtly, wanton, worst of worst before.” Malone. I cannot think that justice has been done to the purity of Helena's sentiment. I explain it thus: Let me be stigmatized as a strumpet, and in addition (although that would not be worse, or a more extended evil than what I have mentioned, the loss of my honour, which is the worst that could happen), let me die with torture. Ne is nor. Boswell.

Note return to page 1018 3Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak; His powerful sound, within an organ weak:] The verb, doth speak, in the first line, should be understood to be repeated in the construction of the second, thus: “His powerful sound speaks within a weak organ.” Heath. This, in my opinion, is a very just and happy explanation. Steevens.

Note return to page 1019 4And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another away.] i. e. and that which, if I trusted to my reason, I should think impossible, I yet, perceiving thee to be actuated by some blessed spirit, think thee capable of effecting. Malone.

Note return to page 1020 5&lblank; in thee hath estimate;] May be counted among the gifts enjoyed by thee. Johnson.

Note return to page 1021 6Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all &lblank;] The old copy omits virtue. It was supplied by Dr. Warburton, to remedy a defect in the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 1022 7&lblank; prime &lblank;] Youth; the spring or morning of life. Johnson. Should we not read—pride? Dr. Johnson explains prime to mean youth; and indeed I do not see any other plausible interpretation that can be given of it. But how does that suit with the context? “You have all that is worth the name of life; youth, beauty, &c. all, That happiness and youth can happy call.”— Happiness and pride may signify, I think, the pride of happiness; the proudest state of happiness. So, in The Second Part of Henry IV. Act III. Sc. I.: “the voice and echo,” is put for “the voice of echo,” or, the echoing voice. Tyrwhitt. I think, with Dr. Johnson, that prime is here used as a substantive, but that it means, that sprightly vigour which usually accompanies us in the prime of life. So, in Montaigne's Essaies, translated by Florio, 1603, b. ii. c. 6: “Many things seeme greater by imagination, than by effect. I have passed over a good part of my age in sound and perfect health. I say, not only sound, but blithe and wantonly-lustful. That state, full of lust, of prime and mirth, made me deeme the consideration of sicknesses so yrksome, that when I came to the experience of them, I have found their fits but weak.” Malone. So, in Hamlet; “A violet in the youth of primy nature.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1023 8&lblank; in property &lblank;] In property seems to be here used, with much laxity, for—in the due performance. In a subsequent passage it seems to mean either a thing possessed, or a subject discriminated by peculiar qualities: “The property by what it is should go, “Not by the title.” Malone.

Note return to page 1024 9Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven.] The old copy reads: “&lblank; my hopes of help.” Steevens. The King could have but a very slight hope of help from her, scarce enough to swear by: and therefore Helen might suspect he meant to equivocate with her. Besides, observe, the greatest part of the scene is strictly in rhyme: and there is no shadow of reason why it should be interrupted here. I rather imagine the poet wrote: “Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven.” Thirlby. The rhyme fully supports this change. Malone. It may be right for that reason; but Thirlby's objection to the old text is unfounded. The King had expressed the strongest confidence in her help. Boswell.

Note return to page 1025 1With any branch or image of thy state:] Shakspeare unquestionably wrote impage, grafting. Impe, a graff, or slip, or sucker: by which she means one of the sons of France. Caxton calls our Prince Arthur, “that noble impe of fame.” Warburton. Image is surely the true reading, and may mean “any representative of thine;” i. e. ‘any one who resembles you as being related to your family, or as a prince reflects any part of your state and majesty.’ There is no such word as impage; and, as Mr. M. Mason observes, were such a one coined, it would mean nothing but the art of grafting. Mr. Henley adds, that branch refers to the collateral descendants of the royal blood, and image to the direct and immediate line. Steevens.

Note return to page 1026 2It is like a barber's chair, &c.] This expression is proverbial. See Ray's Proverbs, and Burton's Anat. of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 666. Again, in More Fooles Yet, by R. S. a collection of Epigrams, 4to. 1610: “Moreover sattin sutes he doth compare “Unto the service of a barber's chayre; “As fit for every Jacke and journeyman, “As for a knight or worthy gentleman.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1027 3&lblank; Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger,] Tom is the man, and by Tib we are to understand the woman, and therefore, more properly, we might read—“Tom's rush for,” &c. The allusion is to an ancient practice of marrying with a rush ring, as well in other countries as in England. Breval, in his Antiquities of Paris, mentions it as a kind of espousal used in France, by such persons as meant to live together in a state of concubinage: but in England it was scarce ever practised except by designing men, for the purpose of corrupting those young women to whom they pretended love. Richard Poore, bishop of Salisbury, in his Constitutions, anni 1217, forbids the putting of rush rings, or any the like matter, on women's fingers, in order to the debauching them more readily: and he insinuates, as the reason for the prohibition, that there were some people weak enough to believe, that what was thus done in jest, was a real marriage. But, notwithstanding this censure on it, the practice was not abolished: for it is alluded to in a song in a play written by Sir William D'Avenant, called The Rivals: “I'll crown thee with a garland of straw then, “And I'll marry thee with a rush ring.” Which song, by the way, was first sung by Miss Davis; she acted the part of Celania in the play; and King Charles II. upon hearing it, was so pleased with her voice and action, that he took her from the stage, and made her his mistress. Again, in the song called The Winchester Wedding, in D'Urfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy, vol. i. p. 276: “Pert Strephon was kind to Betty,   “And blithe as a bird in the spring; “And Tommy was so to Katy,   “And wedded her with a rush ring.” Sir J. Hawkins. Tib and Tom are generally coupled by our old writers. Tib Coles renders in his Latin Dict. 1679, by mulier sordida. “He struck at Tib, and down fell Tom;” is, I think, one of Ray's Proverbial Sentences. Malone. Tib and Tom, in plain English, I believe, stand for wanton and rogue. So, in Churchyard's Choise: “Tushe, that's a toye; let Tomkin talke of Tibb.” Again, in the Queenes Majesties Entertainment in Suffolk and Norfolk, &c. by Tho. Churchyard, 4to. no date: “Cupid. “And doth not Jove and Mars bear sway? Tush, that is true.” “Philosopher. “Then put in Tom and Tibbe, and all bears sway as much as you.” Steevens. The practice of marrying with a rush ring, mentioned by Sir John Hawkins, is very questionable, and it might be difficult to find any authority in support of this opinion. Douce. Sir John Hawkins's alteration is unnecessary. It was the practice, in former times, for the woman to give the man a ring, as well as for the man to give her one. So, in the last scene of Twelfth-Night, the priest, giving an account of Olivia's marriage, says, it was “Attested by the holy close of lips, “Strengthen'd by enterchangement of your rings.” M. Mason. I believe what some of us have asserted respecting the exchange of rings in the marriage ceremony, is only true of the marriage contract, in which such a practice undoubtedly prevailed. Steevens. A rush ring seems to have been often a rural gift without any reference either to a marriage or a marriage contract. So, in Spenser's Pastorals, November, l, 113: “O thou great shepheard, Lobbin, how great is thy griefe! “Where bene the nosegayes that she dight for thee? “The coloured chaplets wrought with a chiefe, “The knotted rush ringes, and gilt rosmarie?” Boswell.

Note return to page 1028 4To be young again,] The lady censures her own levity in trifling with her jester, as a ridiculous attempt to return back to youth. Johnson.

Note return to page 1029 4O Lord, sir,] A ridicule on that foolish expletive of speech then in vogue at court. Warburton. Thus Clove and Orange, in Every Man out of his Humour: “You conceive me, sir?—O Lord, sir!” Cleiveland, in one of his songs, makes his Gentleman— “Answer, O Lord, sir! and talk play-book oaths.” Farmer.

Note return to page 1030 5&lblank; modern &lblank;] i. e. common, ordinary. So, in As You Like It: “Full of wise saws, and modern instances.” Again, in the last Act of this play, Sc. III. “with her modern grace &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 1031 6&lblank; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge,] To ensconce literally signifies to secure as in a fort. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I will ensconce me behind the arras.” Into (a frequent practice with old writers) is used for in. Steevens.

Note return to page 1032 7&lblank; unknown fear.] Fear is here an object of fear. Johnson.

Note return to page 1033 8Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus. Laf. Of all the learned and authentick fellows,] Shakspeare, as I have often observed, never throws out his words at random. Paracelsus, though no better than an ignorant and knavish enthusiast, was at this time in such vogue, even amongst the learned, that he had almost justled Galen and the ancients out of credit. On this account learned is applied to Galen, and authentick or fashionable to Paracelsus. Sancy, in his Confession Catholique, p. 301, Ed. Col. 1720, is made to say: “Je trouve la Riviere premier medecin, de meilleure humeur que ces gens-la. Il est bon Galeniste, et tres bon Paracelsiste. Il dit que la doctrine de Galien est honorable, et non mesprisable pour la pathologie, et profitable pour les boutiques. L'autre, pourveu que ce soit de vrais preceptes de Paracelse, est bonne à suivre pour la verité, pour la subtilité, pour l'espargne; en somme pour la Therapeutique.” Warburton. As the whole merriment of this scene consists in the pretensions of Parolles to knowledge and sentiments which he has not, I believe here are two passages in which the words and sense are bestowed upon him by the copies, which the author gave to Lafeu. I read this passage thus: “Laf. To be relinquished of the artists— “Par. So I say. “Laf. Both of Galen and Paracelsus, of all the learned and authentick fellows— “Par. Right, so I say.” Johnson. “&lblank; authentick fellows.” The phrase of the diploma is, “authenticè licentiatus.” Musgrave. The epithet authentick was in our author's time particularly applied to the learned. So, in Drayton's Owle, 4to. 1604: “For which those grave and still authentick sages, “Which sought for knowledge in those golden ages, “From whom we hold the science that we have,” &c. Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “As truth's authentick author to be cited.” Again, in Chapman's version of the eight Iliad: “&lblank; Nestor cut the geres “With his new drawne authentique sword &lblank;.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens would have made himself very merry with this note, had it been written by any other person, in which authentique is quoted in the sense of learned when applied to a sword. Boswell.

Note return to page 1034 9Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, &c.] We should read, I think: “It is, indeed, if you will have it a showing —you shall read it in what do you call there &lblank;.” Tyrwhitt. Does not, if you will have it in showing, signify in a demonstration or statement of the case? Henley.

Note return to page 1035 1A showing of a heavenly effect, &c.] The title of some pamphlet here ridiculed. Warburton.

Note return to page 1036 2Why, your dolphin is not lustier:] By dolphin is meant the dauphin, the heir apparent, and the hope of the crown of France. His title is so translated in all the old books. Steevens. What Mr. Steevens observes is certainly true; and yet the additional word your induces me to think that by dolphin in the passage before us the fish so called was meant. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; His delights “Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above “The element he liv'd in.” Lafeu, who is an old courtier, if he had meant the king's son, would surely have said—“the dolphin.” I use the old spelling. Malone. In the colloquial language of Shakspeare's time, your was frequently employed as it is in this passage. “So, in Hamlet, the Grave-digger observes, that “your water is a sore decayer of your whorson dead body.” Again, in As You Like It: “Your if is the only peace-maker.” Steevens. I did not require to be told that your was thus employed in familiar language; but my doubt was, if an old courtier would use such familiarity when speaking of a king's son. Be that as it may, my other reason for my explanation that Shakspeare has alluded to the gambols of the dolphin remains untouched. Malone.

Note return to page 1037 3&lblank; facinorous spirit,] This word is used in Heywood's English Traveller, 1633: “And magnified for high facinorous deeds.” Facinorous is wicked. The old copy spells the word facinerious; but as Parolles is not designed for a verbal blunderer, I have adhered to the common spelling. Steevens.

Note return to page 1038 4&lblank; which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, &c.] I believe Parolles has again usurped words and sense to which he has no right: and I read this passage thus: “Laf. In a most weak and debile minister, great power, great transcendence; which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than the mere recovery of the king. “Par. As to be— “Laf. Generally thankful.” Johnson. When the parts are written out for players, the names of the characters which they are to represent are never set down; but only the last words of the preceding speech which belongs to their partner in the scene. If the plays of Shakspeare were printed (as there is reason to suspect) from these piece-meal transcripts, how easily may the mistake be accounted for, which Dr. Johnson has judiciously strove to remedy? Steevens.

Note return to page 1039 5Lustick, as the Dutchman says:] Lustigh is the Dutch word for lusty, chearful, pleasant. It is used in Hans Beer-pot's Invisible Comedy, 1618: “&lblank; can walk a mile or two “As lustique as a boor &lblank;.” Again, in The Witches of Lancashire, by Heywood and Broome, 1634: “What all lustick, all frolicksome!” The burden also of one of our ancient medleys is— “Hey Lusticke.” Steevens. In the narrative of the cruelties committed by the Dutch at Amboyna, in 1622, it is said, that after a night spent in prayer, &c. by some of the prisoners, “the Dutch that guarded them offered them wine, bidding them drink lustick, and drive away the sorrow, according to the custom of their own nation.” Reed.

Note return to page 1040 6O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice] They were his wards as well as his subjects. Henley.

Note return to page 1041 7&lblank; marry, to each, but one!] I cannot understand this passage in any other sense, than as a ludicrous exclamation, in consequence of Helena's wish of one fair and virtuous mistress to each of the lords. If that be so, it cannot belong to Helena; and might, properly enough, be given to Parolles. Tyrwhitt. Tyrwhitt's observations on this passage are not conceived with his usual sagacity. He mistakes the import of the words but one, which does not mean only one, but except one. Helena wishes a fair and virtuous mistress to each of the young lords who were present, one only excepted; and the person excepted is Bertram, whose mistress she hoped she herself should be; and she makes the exception out of modesty: for otherwise the description of a fair and virtuous mistress would have extended to herself. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1042 8&lblank; bay Curtal,] i. e. a bay, docked horse. Steevens.

Note return to page 1043 9My mouth no more were broken &lblank;] A broken mouth is a mouth which has lost part of its teeth. Johnson.

Note return to page 1044 1We blush, that thou should'st choose; but, be refus'd, Let the white death, &c.] In the original copy, these lines are pointed thus: “We blush that thou should'st choose, but be refus'd; “Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever,” &c. This punctuation has been adopted in all the subsequent editions. The present regulation of the text appears to me to afford a much clearer sense. “My blushes (says Helen), thus whisper me. We blush that thou should'st have the nomination of thy husband. However, choose him at thy peril. But, if thou be refused, let thy cheeks be for ever pale; we will never revisit them again.” The blushes, which are here personified, could not be supposed to know that Helena would be refused, as, according to the former punctuation, they appear to do; and, even if the poet had meant this, he would surely have written “&lblank; and be refused,” not “&lblank; but be refused.” Be refus'd means the same as—“thou being refused,”—or, “be thou refused.” Malone. The white death is the chlorosis. Johnson. The white death is the paleness of death. Boswell. The pestilence that ravaged England in the reign of Edward III. was called “the black death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1045 2&lblank; all the rest is mute.] i. e. I have no more to say to you. So, Hamlet: “&lblank; the rest is silence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1046 3&lblank; ames-ace &lblank;] i. e. the lowest chance of the dice. So, in The Ordinary, by Cartwright: “&lblank; may I at my last stake, &c. throw ames-aces thrice together.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1047 4Laf. Do all they deby her?] None of them have yet denied her, or deny her afterwards, but Bertram. The scene must be so regulated that Lafeu and Parolles talk at a distance, where they may see what passes between Helena and the lords, but not hear it, so that they know not by whom the refusal is made. Johnson.

Note return to page 1048 5There's one grape yet,] This speech the three last editors [Theobald, Hanmer, and Warburton,] have perplexed themselves, by dividing between Lafeu and Parolles, without any authority of copies, or any improvement of sense. I have restored the old reading, and should have thought no explanation necessary, but that Mr. Theobald apparently misunderstood it. Old Lafeu having, upon the supposition that the lady was refused, reproached the young lords as boys of ice, throwing his eyes on Bertram, who remained, cries out, “There is one yet into whom his father put good blood—but I have known thee long enough to know thee for an ass.” Johnson.

Note return to page 1049 6'Tis only title &lblank;] i. e. the want of title. Malone.

Note return to page 1050 7Of colour, weight, and heat,] That is, which are of the same colour, weight, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1051 8From the lowest place when virtuous things proceed,] The old copy has—whence. This easy correction [when] was prescribed by Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 1052 9Where great additions swell,] Additions are the titles and descriptions by which men are distinguished from each other. Malone. In the old copy swell's, probably for swell us. Boswell.

Note return to page 1053 1&lblank; good alone Is good, without a name; vileness is so:] Shakspeare may mean, that external circumstances have no power over the real nature of things. Good alone (i. e. by itself) without a name (i. e. without the addition of titles) is good. Vileness is so (i. e. is itself). Either of them is what its name implies: “The property by what it is should go, “Not by the title &lblank; .” “Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, “'Tis not the devil's crest.” Measure for Measure. Steevens. Steevens's last interpretation of this passage is very near being right; but I think it should be pointed thus: “&lblank; good alone “Is good;—without a name, vileness is so.” Meaning that ‘good is good without any addition, and vileness would still be vileness, though we had no such name to distinguish it by.’ A similar expression occurs in Macbeth: “Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, “Yet grace must still look so.” That is, grace would still be grace, as vileness would still be vileness. M. Mason. The meaning is,—“Good is good, independent on any worldly distinction or title: so vileness is vile, in whatever state it may appear.” Malone.

Note return to page 1054 2In these to nature she's immediate heir;] To be immediate heir is to inherit without any intervening transmitter: thus she inherits beauty immediately from nature, but honour is transmitted by ancestors. Johnson.

Note return to page 1055 3&lblank; that is honour's scorn, Which challenges itself as honour's born, And is not like the fire:] Perhaps we might read, more elegantly —as honour-born,—honourably descended: the child of honour. Malone. Honour's born, is the child of honour. Born is here used, as bairn still is in the North. Henley.

Note return to page 1056 4And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive, &c.] The first folio omits—best; but the second folio supplies it, as it is necessary to enforce the sense of the passage, and complete its measure. Steevens. The modern editors read—“Honours best thrive;” in which they have followed the editor of the second folio, who introduced the word best unnecessarily; not observing that sire was used by our author, like fire, hour, &c. as a dissyllable. Malone. Where is an example of sire, used as a dissyllable, to be found? Fire and hour were anciently written fier and hower; and consequently the concurring vowels could be separated in pronunciation. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 1057 5My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power:] The poor King of France is again made a man of Gotham, by our unmerciful editors. For he is not to make use of his authority to defeat, but to defend, his honour. Theobald. Had Mr. Theobald been aware that the implication or clause of the sentence (as the grammarians say) served for the antecedent “Which danger to defeat,” there had been no need of his wit or his alteration. Farmer. So, in Othello: “&lblank; She dying gave it me, “And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, “To give it her.” i. e. to my wife, though not before mentioned but by implication. Malone. Notwithstanding Mr. Theobald's pert censure of former editors for retaining the word defeat, I should be glad to see it restored again, as I am persuaded it is the true reading. The French verb defaire (from whence our defeat) signifies to free, to disembarrass, as well as to destroy. Defaire un nœud, is to untie a knot; and in this sense, I apprehend, defeat is here used. It may be observed, that our verb undo has the same varieties of signification; and I suppose even Mr. Theobald would not have been much puzzled to find the sense of this passage, if it had been written;— “My honour's at the stake, which to undo I must produce my power.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1058 6&lblank; that canst not dream, We, poizing us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam;] That canst not understand, that if you and this maiden should be weighed together, and our royal favours should be thrown into her scale, (which you esteem so light,) we should make that in which you should be placed, to strike the beam. Malone.

Note return to page 1059 7Into the staggers,] One species of the staggers, or the horse's apoplexy, is a raging impatience, which makes the animal dash himself with a destructive violence against posts or walls. To this the allusion, I suppose, is made. Johnson. Shakspeare has the same expression in Cymbeline, where Posthumus says: “Whence come these staggers on me?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1060 8&lblank; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to-night:] Several of the modern editors read—new-born brief. Steevens. This, if it be at all intelligible, is at least obscure and inaccurate. Perhaps it was written thus: “&lblank; what ceremony “Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, “Shall be perform'd to-night; the solemn feast “Shall more attend &lblank;.” The brief is the contract of espousal, or the licence of the church. The King means, What ceremony is necessary to make this contract a marriage, shall be immediately performed; the rest may be delayed. Johnson. The only authentick copy reads—“now-born.” I do not perceive that any change is necessary. Malone. The whole speech is unnaturally expressed; yet I think it intelligible as it stands, and should therefore reject Johnson's amendment and explanation. The word brief does not here denote either a contract or a licence, but is an adjective, and means short or contracted: and the words “on the now-born,” signify “for the present,” in opposition to “upon the coming space,” which means hereafter. The sense of the whole passage seems to be this:—“The king and fortune smile on this contract; the ceremony of which it seems expedient to abridge for the present; the solemn feast shall be performed at a future time, when we shall be able to assemble friends.” M. Mason. Though I have inserted the foregoing note, I do not profess to comprehend its meaning fully. Shakspeare used the words expedience, expedient, and expediently, in the sense of haste, quick, expeditiously. A brief, in ancient language, means any short and summary writing or proceeding. The “now-born brief” is only another phrase for “the contract recently and suddenly made. The ceremony of it (says the king) shall seem to hasten after its short preliminary, and be performed to-night,” &c. Steevens. Now-born, the epithet in the old copy, prefixed to brief, unquestionably ought to be restored. The “now-born brief,” is the breve originale of the feudal times, which, in this instance, formally notified the king's consent to the marriage of Bertram, his ward. Henley. Our author often uses brief in the sense of a short note, or intimation concerning any business; and sometimes without the idea of writing. So, in the last Act of this play: “&lblank; she told me “In a sweet verbal brief,” &c. Again, in the Prologue to Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “To stop which scruple, let this brief suffice:— “It is no pamper'd glutton we present,” &c. The meaning therefore of the present passage, I believe, is: ‘Good fortune, and the king's favour, smile on this short contract; the ceremonial part of which shall immediately pass,— shall follow close on the troth now briefly plighted between the parties, and be performed this night; the solemn feast shall be delayed to a future time.’ Malone.

Note return to page 1061 9The old copy has the following singular continuation: “Parolles and Lafeu stay behind, commenting of this wedding.” This could have been only the marginal note of a prompter, and was never designed to appear in print. Steevens. To comment means, seeming to make remarks. Malone.

Note return to page 1062 1&lblank; for two ordinaries,] While I sat twice with thee at table. Johnson.

Note return to page 1063 2&lblank; taking up;] To take up is to contradict, to call to account; as well as to pick off the ground. Johnson.

Note return to page 1064 3&lblank; in the default,] That is, at a need. Johnson.

Note return to page 1065 4&lblank; for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave.] The conceit, which is so thin that it might well escape a hasty reader, is in the word past—“I am past, as I will be past by thee.” Johnson. Lafeu means to say, “for doing I am past, as I will pass by thee, in what motion age will permit.” Lafeu says, that he will pass by Parolles, not that he will be passed by him; and Lafeu is actually the person who goes out. M. Mason. Dr. Johnson is, I believe, mistaken. Mr. Edwards has, I think, given the true reading of Lafeu's words. “I cannot do much, says Lafeu; doing I am past, as I will by thee in what motion age will give me leave; i. e. as I will pass by thee as fast as I am able:”—and he immediately goes out. It is a play on the word past: the conceit indeed is poor, but Shakspeare plainly meant it.” Malone. Doing is here used obscenely. So, in Ben Jonson's translation of a passage in an Epigram of Petronius:   Brevis est, &c. et fœda voluptas. “Doing a filthy pleasure is, and short.” Collins.

Note return to page 1066 5Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me;] This the poet makes Parolles speak alone; and this is nature. A coward should try to hide his poltroonery even from himself. An ordinary writer would have been glad of such an opportunity to bring him to confession. Warburton.

Note return to page 1067 6&lblank; than the heraldry of your birth, &c.] In former copies:— “than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry.” Sir Thomas Hanmer restored it. Johnson.

Note return to page 1068 7That hugs his kicksy-wicksy, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer, in his glossary, observes, that kicksy-wicksy is a made word in ridicule and disdain of a wife. Taylor, the water-poet, has a poem in disdain of his debtors, entitled, A kicksy-winsy, or a Lerry come-twang. Grey. One nonsensical phrase is as good as another; the old copy has kickie wickie. Boswell.

Note return to page 1069 8To the dark house, &c.] The dark house is a house made gloomy by discontent. Milton says of death and the king of hell preparing to combat: “So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell “Grew darker at their frown.” Johnson. Perhaps this is the same thought we meet with in King Henry IV. only more solemnly expressed: “&lblank; he's as tedious “As is a tired horse, a railing wife, “Worse than a smoaky-house.” The proverb originated before chimneys were in general use, which was not till the middle of Elizabeth's reign. See Piers Plowman, passus 17: “Thre thinges there be that doe a man by strength “For to flye his owne house, as holy wryte sheweth: “That one is a wycked wife, that wyll not be chastysed; “Her fere flyeth from her, for feare of her tonge:— “And when smolke and smoulder smight in his syghte, “It doth him worse than his wyfe, or wete to slepe; “For smolke or smoulder, smileth in his eyen “'Til he be blear'd or blind,” &c. The old copy reads—detected wife. Mr. Rowe made the correction. Steevens. The emendation is fully supported by a subsequent passage: “'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife “Of a detesting lord.” Malone.

Note return to page 1070 9I'll send her straight away: To-morrow &lblank;] As this line wants a foot, I suppose our author wrote—“Betimes to-morrow.” So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I will to-morrow, “Betimes I will,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1071 1&lblank; fortunes.] Old copy—fortune. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 1072 2&lblank; and well fed.] An allusion, perhaps, to the old saying— “Better fed than taught;” to which the Clown has himself alluded in a preceding scene:—“I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught.” Ritson.

Note return to page 1073 3But puts it off to a compell'd restraint;] Thus the original and only authentick ancient copy. The editor of the third folio reads—by a compell'd restraint; and the alteration has been adopted by the modern editors; perhaps without necessity. Our poet might have meant, in his usual licentious manner, that Bertram puts off the completion of his wishes to a future day, till which he is compelled to restrain his desires. This, it must be confessed, is very harsh; but our author is often so licentious in his phraseology, that change on that ground alone is very dangerous. In King Henry VIII. we have a phraseology not very different: “&lblank; All-souls day “Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.” i. e. the day to which my wrongs are respited. Malone.

Note return to page 1074 4Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim,] The sweets with which that want is strewed, I suppose, are compliments and professions of kindness. Johnson. The sweets which are distilled, by the restraint said to be imposed on Bertram, from “the want and delay of the great prerogative of love,” are the sweets of expectation. Parolles is here speaking of Bertram's feelings during this “curbed time,” not, as Dr. Johnson seems to have thought, of those of Helena. The following lines, in Troilus and Cressida, may prove the best comment on the present passage: “I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. “The imaginary relish is so sweet “That it enchants my sense. What will it be, “When that the watery palate tastes indeed “Love's thrice-reputed nectar? Death, I fear me, “Swooning destruction,” &c. Malone. Johnson seems not to have understood this passage; the meaning of which is merely this:—“That the delay of the joys, and the expectation of them, would make them more delightful when they come.” The curbed time, means the time of restraint. “Whose want,” means “the want of which.” So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Theseus says: “&lblank; A day or two “Let us look sadly,—in whose end, “The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 1075 5&lblank; probable need.] A specious appearance of necessity. Johnson.

Note return to page 1076 6&lblank; a bunting.] This word is mentioned in Lyly's Love's Metamorphosis, 1601: “&lblank; but foresters think all birds to be buntings.” Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, gives this account of it: “Terraneola et rubetra, avis alaudæ similis, &c. Dicta terraneola quod non in arboribus, sed in terra versetur et nidificet.” The following proverb is in Ray's Collection: “A gosshawk beats not a bunting.” Steevens. “I took this lark for a bunting.] This is a fine discrimination between the possessor of courage, and him that only has the appearance of it. The bunting is, in feather, size, and form, so like the sky-lark, as to require nice attention to discover the one from the other; it also ascends and sinks in the air nearly in the same manner: but it has little or no song, which gives estimation to the sky-lark. J. Johnson

Note return to page 1077 7A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, &c.] So, in Marlowe's King Edward II. 1598: “Gav. What art thou? “2 Poor Man. A traveller. “Gav. Let me see; thou would'st well “To wait on my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner-time.” Malone.

Note return to page 1078 8You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard;] This odd allusion is not introduced without a view to satire. It was a foolery practised at city entertainments, whilst the jester or zany was in vogue, for him to jump into a large deep custard, set for the purpose, “to set on a quantity of barren spectators to laugh,” as our poet says in his Hamlet. I do not advance this without some authority; and a quotation from Ben Jonson will very well explain it: “He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner, “Skip with a rhime o' the table, from New-nothing, “And take his Almain-leap into a custard, “Shall make my lady mayoress, and her sisters, “Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders.” Devil's An Ass, Act I. Sc. I. Theobald.

Note return to page 1079 9&lblank; than you have or will deserve &lblank;] The oldest copy erroneously reads—“have or will to deserve.” Steevens. Something seems to have been omitted; but I know not how to rectify the passage. Perhaps we should read—“than you have qualities or will to deserve.” The editor of the second folio reads —“than you have or will deserve &lblank;.” Malone. “Than you have [deserved] or are willing to deserve in future.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1080 1And rather muse, &c.] To muse is to wonder. So, in Macbeth: “Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1081 2&lblank; the wealth I owe;] i. e. I own, possess. Steevens.

Note return to page 1082 3Where are my other men, monsieur?—Farewell.] In former copies: “Hel. Where are my other men? Monsieur, farewell.” What other men is Helen here enquiring after? Or who is she supposed to ask for them? The old Countess, 'tis certain, did not send her to the court without some attendants; but neither the Clown, nor any of her retinue, are now upon the stage: Bertram, observing Helen to linger fondly, and wanting to shift her off, puts on a show of haste, asks Parolles for his servants, and then gives his wife an abrupt dismission. Theobald.

Note return to page 1083 4&lblank; I cannot yield,] I cannot inform you of the reasons. Johnson. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “If you say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress: “But well and free, “If thou so yield him, there is gold &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1084 5&lblank; an outward man,] i. e. one not in the secret of affairs. Warburton. So, inward is familiar, admitted to secrets. “I was an inward of his.” Measure for Measure. Johnson.

Note return to page 1085 6By self-unable motion:] We should read notion. Warburton. This emendation has also been recommended by Mr. Upton. Steevens.

Note return to page 1086 7&lblank; the younger of our nature,] i. e. as we say at present, our young fellows. The modern editors read—nation. I have restored the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 1087 8Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing;] The tops of the boots, in our author's time, turned down, and hung loosely over the leg. The folding is what the Clown means by the ruff. Ben Jonson calls it ruffle; and perhaps it should be so here. “Not having leisure to put off my silver spurs, one of the rowels catch'd hold of the ruffle of my boot.” Every Man out of his Humour, Act IV. Sc. VI. Whalley. To this fashion Bishop Earle alludes in his Characters, 1638, sign. E 10: “He has learnt to ruffle his face from his boote; and takes great delight in his walk to heare his spurs gingle.” Malone.

Note return to page 1088 9&lblank; sold a goodly manor for a song.] The old copy reads— “hold a goodly.” The emendation was made in the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1089 1Clo. E'en that &lblank;] Old copy—In that. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 1090 2Can woman me &lblank;] i. e. affect me suddenly and deeply, as my sex are usually affected. Steevens. So, in Henry V.: “And all the woman came into my eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 1091 3When thou canst get the ring upon my finger.] i. e. When thou canst get the ring, which is on my finger, into thy possession. The Oxford editor, who took it the other way, to signify, when thou canst get it on upon my finger, very sagaciously alters it to —“When thou canst get the ring from my finger.” Warburton. I think Dr. Warburton's explanation sufficient; but I once read it thus: ‘When thou canst get the ring upon thy finger, which never shall come off mine.’ Johnson. Dr. Warburton's explanation is confirmed incontestably by these lines in the fifth Act, in which Helena again repeats the substance of this letter: “&lblank; there is your ring; “And, look you, here's your letter; this it says: “When from my finger you can get this ring,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1092 4If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety:] We should certainly read: “&lblank; all the griefs as thine,” instead of—“are thine.” M. Mason. This sentiment is elliptically expressed, but, I believe, means no more than—“If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself;” i. e. “all the griefs that are thine,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1093 5&lblank; a deal of that, too much, Which holds him much to have.] That is, his vices stand him in stead. Helen had before delivered this thought in all the beauty of expression: “&lblank; I know him a notorious liar; “Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; “Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, “That they take place, when virtue's steely bones “Look bleak in the cold wind &lblank;.” Warburton. Mr. Heath thinks that the meaning is, this fellow hath a deal too much of that which alone can hold or judge that he has much in him; i. e. folly and ignorance. Malone.

Note return to page 1094 6Not so, &c.] The gentlemen declare that they are servants to the Countess; she replies,—No otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility. Johnson.

Note return to page 1095 7&lblank; move the still-piecing air, That sings with piercing,] The words are here oddly shuffled into nonsense. We should read: “&lblank; pierce the still-moving air, “That sings with piercing.” i. e. pierce the air, which is in perpetual motion, and suffers no injury by piercing. Warburton. The old copy reads—“the still-peering air.” Perhaps we might better read: “&lblank; the still-piecing air.” i. e. the air that closes immediately. This has been proposed already, but I forget by whom. Steevens. Piece was formerly spelt—peece: so that there is but the change of one letter. See Twelfth-Night, first folio, p. 262: “Now, good Cesario, but that peece of song &lblank;.” So (as Lord Chedworth has remarked) in The Wisdom of Solomon, v. 12: “Or like as when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the air, which immediately cometh together again, so that a man cannot tell where it went through &lblank;.” Malone. I have no doubt that still-piecing was Shakspeare's word. But the passage is not yet quite sound. We should read, I believe, “&lblank; rove the still-piecing air.” i. e. “fly at random through.” The allusion is to shooting at rovers in archery, which was shooting without any particular aim. Tyrwhitt. Mr. Tyrwhitt's reading destroys the designed antithesis between move and still; nor is he correct in his definition of roving, which is not shooting without a particular aim, but at marks of uncertain lengths. Douce.

Note return to page 1096 8&lblank; the ravin lion &lblank;] i. e. the ravenous or ravening lion. To ravin is to swallow voraciously. Malone. See Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 1097 9Whence honour but of danger, &c.] The sense is, from that abode, where all the advantages that honour usually reaps from the danger it rushes upon, is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, on the other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life itself. Heath.

Note return to page 1098 1We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, To the extreme edge of hazard.] So, in our author's 116th Sonnet: “But bears it out even to the edge of doom.” Malone. Milton has borrowed this expression, Par. Reg. b. i.: “You see our danger on the utmost edge “Of hazard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1099 2And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,] So, in King Richard III.: “Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!” Again, in King John: “And victory with little loss doth play “Upon the dancing banners of the French.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1100 3&lblank; Saint Jaques' pilgrim,] I do not remember any place famous for piglrimages consecrated in Italy to St. James, but it is common to visit St. James of Compostella, in Spain. Another saint might easily have been found, Florence being somewhat out of the road from Rousillon to Compostella. Johnson. From Dr. Heylin's France Painted to the Life, 8vo. 1656, p. 270, 276, we learn that at Orleans was a church dedicated to St. Jacques, to which Pilgrims formerly used to resort, to adore a part of the cross pretended to be found there. Reed.

Note return to page 1101 4&lblank; Juno,] Alluding to the story of Hercules. Johnson.

Note return to page 1102 5&lblank; lack advice so much,] Advice, is discretion or thought. Johnson. So, in King Henry V.: “And, on his more advice we pardon him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1103 6That he does weigh too light:] To weigh here means to value, or esteem. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “You weigh me not, O, that's you care not for me.” Malone.

Note return to page 1104 7&lblank; those suggestions for the young earl.] Suggestions are temptations. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Suggestions are to others as to me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1105 8&lblank; are not the things they go under:] They are not really so true and sincere, as in appearance they seem to be. Theobald. To go under the name of any thing is a known expression. The meaning is, they are not the things for which their names would make them pass. Johnson.

Note return to page 1106 9&lblank; palmers &lblank;] Pilgrims that visited holy places; so called from a staff, or bough of palm they were wont to carry, especially such as had visited the holy places at Jerusalem. “A pilgrim and a palmer differed thus: a pilgrim had some dwelling-place, the palmer none; the pilgrim travelled to some certain place, the palmer to all, and not to any one in particular; the pilgrim might go at his own charge, the palmer must profess wilful poverty; the pilgrim might give over his profession, the palmer must be constant, till he had the palm; that is, victory over his ghostly enemies, and life by death.” Blount's Glossography, voce Pilgrim. Reed.

Note return to page 1107 1&lblank; holy pilgrim,] The interpolated epithet holy, which adds nothing to our author's sense, and is injurious to his metre, may be safely omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 1108 2&lblank; for the king, &c.] For, in the present instance, signifies because. So, in Othello: “&lblank; and great business scant, “For she is with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1109 3&lblank; mere the truth;] The exact, the entire truth. Malone.

Note return to page 1110 4&lblank; examined.] That is, questioned, doubted. Johnson.

Note return to page 1111 5I write good creature;] I formerly imagined this to be an error, and proposed to read—a right good creature; but I am now convinced I was mistaken, and that the text is correct. So, in King Lear, vol. x. p. 261: “About it and write happy when thou hast done.” So, in Ram Alley: “&lblank; I never saw a man “That sooner would captive my thoughts “Since I writ widow.” Malone.

Note return to page 1112 6&lblank; brokes &lblank;] Deals as a broker. Johnson. To broke is to deal with panders. A broker, in our author's time, meant a bawd or pimp. See a note on Hamlet, Act I. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 1113 7&lblank; Yond's that same knave, That leads him to these places;] What places? Have they been talking of brothels; or, indeed, of any particular locality? I make no question but our author wrote: “That leads him to these paces.” i. e. such irregular steps, to courses of debauchery, to not loving his wife. Theobald. The places are, apparently, where he “&lblank; brokes with all, that can in such a suit “Corrupt the tender honour of a maid.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1114 8&lblank; on this &lblank;] Old copy—of this. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1115 9&lblank; a hilding,] A hilding is a paltry, cowardly fellow. So, in King Henry V.: “To purge the field from such a hilding foe.” Steevens. See note on The Second Part of K. Henry IV. Act I. Sc. I. Reed.

Note return to page 1116 9&lblank; he's carried into the leaguer of the adversaries,] i. e. camp. “They will not vouchsafe in their speaches or writings to use our ancient termes belonging to matters of warre, but doo call a campe by the Dutch name of Legar; nor will not affoord to say, that such a towne or such a fort is besieged, but that it is belegard.” Sir John Smythe's Discourses, &c. 1590, fo. 2. Douce.

Note return to page 1117 1&lblank; of his &lblank;] Old copy—of this. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1118 2&lblank; of ore &lblank;] Old copy—of ours. Malone. “Lump of ours” has been the reading of all the editions. Ore, according to my emendation, bears a consonancy with the other terms accompanying, (viz. metal, lump, and melted,) and helps the propriety of the poet's thought: for so one metaphor is kept up, and all the words are proper and suitable to it. Theobald.

Note return to page 1119 3&lblank; if you give him not John Drum's entertainment,] But what is the meaning of John Drum's entertainment? Lafeu several times afterwards calls Parolles, Tom Drum. But the difference of the Christian name will make none in the explanation. There is an old motley interlude, (printed in 1601,) called Jack Drum's Entertainment; or, The Comedy of Pasquil and Catharine. In this, Jack Drum is a servant of intrigue, who is ever aiming at projects, and always foiled, and given the drop. And there is another old piece, (published in 1627,) called, Apollo Shroving, in which I find these expressions: “Thuriger. Thou lozel, hath Slug infected you? “Why do you give such kind entertainment to that cobweb? “Scopas. It shall have Tom Drum's entertainment: a flap with a fox-tail.” Both these pieces are, perhaps, too late in time, to come to the assistance of our author: so we must look a little higher. What is said here to Bertram is to this effect: ‘My lord, as you have taken this fellow [Parolles] into so near a confidence, if, upon his being found a counterfeit, you don't cashier him from your favour, then your attachment is not to be removed.’ I will now subjoin a quotation from Holinshed, (of whose books Shakspeare was a most diligent reader,) which will pretty well ascertain Drum's history. This chronologer, in his description of Ireland, speaking of Patrick Sarsefield, (mayor of Dublin in the year 1551,) and of his extravagant hospitality, subjoins, that “no guest had ever a cold or forbidding look from any part of his family: so that his porter, or any other officer, durst not, for both his eares, give the simplest man that resorted to his house, Tom Drum his entertaynement, which is, to hale a man in by the heade, and thrust him out by both the shoulders.” Theobald. A contemporary writer has used this expression in the same manner that our author has done; so that there is no reason to suspect the word John in the text to be a misprint: “In faith good gentlemen, I think we shall be forced to give you right John Drum's entertainment, “[i. e. to treat you very ill,]” for he that composed the book we should present, hath—snatched it from us at the very instant of entrance.” Introduction to Jack Drum's Entertainment, a comedy, 1601. Malone. Again, in Taylor's Laugh and be Fat, 78: “And whither now is Monsr Odcome come   “Who on his owne backe-side receiv'd his pay? “Not like the Entertainmt of Jacke Drum,   “Who was best welcome when he went away.” Again, in Manners and Customs of All Nations, by Ed. Aston, 1611, 4to. p. 280: “&lblank; some others on the contrarie part, give them John Drum's intertainmt reviling and beating them away from their houses,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 1120 4&lblank; in any hand.] The usual phrase is—“at any hand,” but “in any hand” will do. It is used in Holland's Pliny, p. 456: “he must be a free citizen of Rome in any hand.” Again, p. 508, 553, 546. Steevens.

Note return to page 1121 5&lblank; I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.] i. e. Here lies;—the usual beginning of epitaphs. I would (says Parolles) recover either the drum I have lost, or another belonging to the enemy; or die in the attempt. Malone.

Note return to page 1122 6&lblank; I will presently pen down my dilemmas,] By this word, Parolles is made to insinuate that he had several ways, all equally certain, of recovering his drum. For a dilemma is an argument that concludes both ways. Warburton. Shakspeare might have found the word thus used in Holinshed. Steevens. I think, that by penning down his dilemmas, Parolles means, that he will pen down his plans on the one side, and the probable obstructions he was to meet with, on the other. M. Mason. If he penned down the probable obstructions he was to meet with, he could not well encourage himself in his certainty. Boswell.

Note return to page 1123 7&lblank; possibility of thy soldiership,] “I will subscribe (says Bertram) to the possibility of your soldiership.” His doubts being now raised, he suppresses that he should not be so willing to vouch for its probability. Steevens. I believe Bertram means no more than that he is confident Parolles will do all that soldiership can effect. He was not yet certain that he was “a hilding.” Malone.

Note return to page 1124 8Par. I love not many words. 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.] Here we have the origin of this boaster's name; which, without doubt, (as Mr. Steevens has observed,) ought, in strict propriety, to be written— Paroles. But our author certainly intended it otherwise, having made it a trisyllable: “Rust sword, cool blushes, and Parolles live.” He probably did not know the true pronunciation. Malone.

Note return to page 1125 9&lblank; we have almost embossed him,] To emboss a deer is to enclose him in a wood. Milton uses the same word: “Like that self-begotten bird “In the Arabian woods imbost, “Which no second knows or third.” Johnson. It is probable that Shakspeare was unacquainted with this word, in the sense which Milton affixes to it, viz. from emboscare, Ital. to enclose a thicket. When a deer is run hard, and foams at the mouth, in the language of the field, he is said to be embossed. Steevens. “To know when a stag is weary (as Markham's Country Contentments say) you shall see him imbost, that is, foaming and slavering about the mouth with a thick white froth,” &c. Tollet.

Note return to page 1126 1&lblank; ere we case him.] That is, before we strip him naked. Johnson.

Note return to page 1127 2&lblank; I'll leave you.] This line is given in the old copy to the second lord, there called Captain G. who goes out; and the first lord, there called Captain E, remains with Bertram. The whole course of the dialogue shows this to have been a mistake. See p. 417: “1 Lord. [i. e. Captain E.] I, with a troop of Florentines,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1128 3&lblank; we have i' the wind,] To have one in the wind, is enumerated as a proverbial saying by Ray, p. 261. Reed.

Note return to page 1129 4But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.] i. e. by discovering herself to the count. Warburton.

Note return to page 1130 5&lblank; to your sworn counsel &lblank;] To your private knowledge, after having required from you an oath of secrecy. Johnson.

Note return to page 1131 6Now his important blood will nought deny &lblank;] Important here, and elsewhere, is importunate. Johnson. So, Spenser, in The Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. vi. st. 29: “And with important outrage him assailed.” Important, from the French Emportant. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1132 7&lblank; the county wears.] i. e. the Count. So, in Romeo and Juliet, we have “the county Paris.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1133 8&lblank; after this,] The latter word was added to complete the metre, by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1134 9Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, And lawful meaning in a lawful act;] To make this gingling riddle complete in all its parts, we should read the second line thus: “And lawful meaning in a wicked act;” The sense of the two lines is this: “It is a wicked meaning because the woman's intent is to deceive; but a lawful deed, because the man enjoys his own wife.” Again, it is a lawful meaning, because done by her to gain her husband's estranged affection, but it is a wicked act because he goes intentionally to commit adultery. The riddle concludes thus: “Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact,” i. e. Where neither of them sin, and yet it is a sinful fact on both sides; which conclusion, we see, requires the emendation here made. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads in the same sense: “Unlawful meaning in a lawful act.” Johnson. Bertram's meaning is wicked in a lawful deed, and Helen's meaning is lawful in a lawful act; and neither of them sin: yet on his part it was a sinful act, for his meaning was to commit adultery, of which he was innocent, as the lady was his wife. Tollet. The first line relates to Bertram. The deed was lawful, as being the duty of marriage, owed by the husband to the wife; but his meaning was wicked, because he intended to commit adultery. The second line relates to Helena; whose meaning was lawful, in as much as she intended to reclaim her husband, and demanded only the rights of a wife. The act or deed was lawful for the reason already given. The subsequent line relates to them both. The fact was sinful, as far as Bertram was concerned, because he intended to commit adultery; yet neither he nor Helena actually sinned: not the wife, because both her intention and action were innocent; not the husband, because he did not accomplish his intention; he did not commit adultery.— This note is partly Mr. Heath's. Malone.

Note return to page 1135 1&lblank; some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment.] That is, foreign troops in the enemy's pay. Johnson.

Note return to page 1136 2&lblank; so we seem to know, is to know, &c.] I think the meaning is,—‘Our seeming to know what we speak one to another, is to make him to know our purpose immediately; to discover our design to him.’ To know, in the last instance, signifies to make known. Sir Thomas Hanmer very plausibly reads—“to show straight our purpose.” Malone. The sense of this passage with the context I take to be this— ‘We must each fancy a jargon for himself, without aiming to be understood by one another, for provided we appear to understand, that will be sufficient for the success of our project.’ Henley.

Note return to page 1137 3&lblank; chough's language,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; I myself could make “A chough of as deep chat.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1138 4&lblank; the instance?] The proof. Johnson.

Note return to page 1139 5&lblank; of Bajazet's mute,] The old copy reads—mule. The emendation was made by Warburton. The alteration which is slight, merely changing an l for a t, two letters easily confounded, may receive support from our author himself in Henry V.: &lblank; or else our grave, “Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth.” Bajazet may, as Mr. Steevens observes, have had a mule which is mentioned somewhere in history; but he has stated no ground for supposing it to be less loquacious than mules in general or any other beast. Malone. As a mule is as dumb by nature, as the mute is by art, the reading may stand. In one of our old Turkish histories, there is a pompous description of Bajazet riding on a mule to the Divan. Steevens. Perhaps there may be here a reference to the following apologue mentioned by Maitland, in one of his despatches to Secretary Cecil: “I think yow have hard the apologue off the Philosopher who for th' emperor's plesure tooke upon him to make a Moyle speak: In many yeares the lyke may yet be, eyther that the Moyle, the Philosopher, or Eamperor may dye before the tyme be fully ronne out.” Haynes's Collection, 369. Parolles probably means, he must buy a tongue which has still to learn the use of speech, that he may run himself into no more difficulties by his loquacity. Reed.

Note return to page 1140 6The baring of my beard.] i. e. the shaving of my beard. See Measure for Measure, vol. ix. p. 176. Malone.

Note return to page 1141 7Inform 'em &lblank;] Old copy—Inform on. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1142 6You are no maiden, but a monument: &lblank; for you are cold and stern;] Our author had here, probably, in his thoughts some of the stern monumental figures with which many churches in England were furnished by the rude sculptors of his own time. He has again the same allusion in Cymbeline: “And be her sense but as a monument “Thus in a chapel lying.” Malone. I believe the epithet stern refers only to the severity often impressed by death on features which, in their animated state, were of a placid turn. Steevens.

Note return to page 1143 7No more of that! I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows: I was compell'd to her:] Against his vows, I believe means— “against his determined resolution never to cohabit with Helena;” and this vow, or resolution, he had very strongly expressed in his letter to the Countess. Steevens. So, in Vittoria Corombona, a tragedy, by Webster, 1612: “Henceforth I'll never lie with thee, “My vow is fix'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 1144 8What is not holy, that we swear not by,] The sense is— ‘We never swear by what is not holy, but swear by, or take to witness, the Highest, the Divinity.’ The tenor of the reasoning contained in the following lines perfectly corresponds with this: If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, that I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths, when you found by experience that I loved you ill, and was endeavouring to gain credit with you in order to seduce you to your ruin? No, surely; but you would conclude that I had no faith either in Jove or his attributes, and that my oaths were mere words of course.’ For that oath can certainly have no tie upon us, which we swear by him we profess to love and honour, when at the same time we give the strongest proof of our disbelief in him, by pursuing a course which we know will offend and dishonour him. Heath.

Note return to page 1145 9If I should swear by Jove's great attributes,] In the print of the old folio, it is doubtful whether it be Jove's or Love's, the characters being not distinguishable. If it is read Love's, perhaps it may be something less difficult. I am still at a loss. Johnson.

Note return to page 1146 1To swear by him whom I protest to love, &c.] This passage likewise appears to me corrupt. She swears not by him whom she loves, but by Jupiter. I believe we may read—“To swear to him.” There is, says she, no holding, no consistency, in swearing to one that I love him, when I swear it only to injure him. Johnson. This appears to me a very probable conjecture. Mr. Heath's explanation, which refers the words—“whom I protest to love,” to Jove, can hardly be right. Let the reader judge. Malone. May we not read— “To swear by him whom I profess to love.” Harris.

Note return to page 1147 2I see, that men make hopes, in such a scene,] The four folio editions read: “&lblank; make rope's in such a scarre.” The emendation [make hopes, in such affairs] was introduced by Mr. Rowe. I find the word scarre in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1631; but do not readily perceive how it can suit the purpose of the present speaker: “I know a cave, wherein the bright day's eye, “Look'd never but ascance, through a small creeke. “Or little cranny of the fretted scarre: “There have I sometimes liv'd,” &c. Again: “Where is the villain's body? “Marry, even heaved over the scarr, and sent a swimming,” &c. Again: “Run up to the top of the dreadful scarre.” Again: “I stood upon the top of the high scarre.” Ray says, that a scarre is a cliff of a rock, or a naked rock on the dry land, from the Saxon carre, cautes. He adds, that this word gave denomination to the town of Scarborough. But as some Latin commentator, (whose name I have forgot,) observes on a similar occasion, “veritate desperatâ, nihil amplius curæ de hac re suscipere volui.” Steevens. “I see, that men make hopes, in such a scene, “That we'll forsake ourselves.” i. e. I perceive that while our lovers are making professions of love, and acting their assumed parts in this kind of amorous interlude, they entertain hopes that we shall be betrayed by our passions to yield to their desires. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “The sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter,— that's the scene that I would see,” &c. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; It shall be so my care “To have you royally appointed, as if “The scene you play, were mine.” The old copy reads: “I see, that men make ropes in such a scarre,” &c. Which Mr. Rowe altered to—“make hopes in such affairs;” and all the subsequent editors adopted his correction. It being entirely arbitrary, any emendation that is nearer to the traces of the unintelligible word in the old copy, and affords at the same time an easy sense, is better entitled to a place in the text. A corrupted passage in the first sketch of The Merry Wives of Windsor, suggested to me [scene,] the emendation now introduced. In the fifth Act, Fenton describes to the Host his scheme for marrying Anne Page: “And in a robe of white this night disguised “Wherein fat Falstaff had [r. hath] a mighty scare, “Must Slender take her,” &c. It is manifest, from the corresponding lines in the folio, that scare was printed by mistake for scene; for in the folio the passage runs— “&lblank; fat Falstaff “Hath a great scene.” The expression, “to make hopes,” though it now sounds oddly to our ears, is supported by similar phraseology in other places. So, in one of our poet's Sonnets we find—“the faults I make.” Again, in Measure for Measure, Act III. Sc. II.: “What offence hath this man made you, sir?” Malone. Mr. Rowe's emendation is not only liable to objection from its dissimilarity to the reading of the four folios, but also from the aukwardness of his language, where the literal resemblance is most, like the words, rejected. “In such affairs,” is a phrase too vague for Shakspeare, when a determined point, to which the preceding conversation had been gradually narrowing, was in question; and “to make hopes,” is as uncouth an expression as can well be imagined. Nor is Mr. Malone's supposition, of scene for scarre, a whit more in point: for, first, scarre, in every part of England where rocks abound, is well known to signify “the detached protrusion of a large rock;” whereas scare is terror or affright. Nor was scare, in the first sketch of The Merry Wives of Windsor, a mistake for scene, but an intentional change of ideas; scare implying only Falstaff's terror, but scene including the spectator's entertainment. On the supposal that make hopes is the true reading, “in such a scarre,” may be taken figuratively for “in such an extremity,” i. e. in so desperate a situation. Henley.

Note return to page 1148 *First folio, I live.

Note return to page 1149 3&lblank; Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid:] Braid signifies crafty or deceitful. So, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “Dian rose with all her maids, “Blushing thus at love his braids.” Chaucer uses the word in the same sense; but as the passage where it occurs in his Troilus and Cressida is contested, it may be necessary to observe, that Bred is an Anglo-Saxon word, signifying fraus, astus. Again, in Thomas Drant's translation of Horace's Epistles, where its import is not very clear: “Professing thee a friend, to plaie the ribbalde at a brade.” In The Romaunt of The Rose, v. 1336, braid seems to mean forthwith, or, at a jerk. There is nothing to answer it in the French, except tantost. In the ancient song of Lytyl Thanke, (MS. Cotton, Titus A. xxvi.) “at a brayd” undoubtedly signifies—at once, on a sudden, in the instant: “But in come ffrankelyn at a brayd.” Steevens. Braid may mean, as Mr. Boaden observes to me, fickle, apt to start away suddenly from their engagements. To braid, for to start, is found in Lord Buckhurst, and many of our old writers. Possibly braid may be a contraction for braided, i. e. twisted, by the same licence as hoist is put for hoisted in Hamlet, heat for heated in King John, and exasperate for exasperated in Macbeth; and may resemble the metaphor which we meet with in King Lear, vol. x. p. 28: “Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides.” Boswell. “Since Frenchmen are so braid.” i. e. (says Mr. John Horne Tooke) brayed, or pounded in a mortar;—at least, such I suppose is his meaning: for, after having proved by six examples, what no one ever questioned, that the common word to bray means to pound, he adds the following curious comment, for which surely his name, had he never written another word, deserves to be immortal: “The expression here [braid] alludes to this proverb: [Though thou should'st bray a fool in a mortar, &c. Prov. xxi. 20.] Diana does not confine herself merely to his craft or deceit; but includes also the other bad qualities of which she supposes Bertram to be compounded, and which would not depart from him, though bray'd in a mortar.” The Diversions of Purley, ii. 50. Malone.

Note return to page 1150 41 Lord.] The latter editors have with great liberality bestowed lordship upon these interlocutors, who, in the original edition, are called, with more propriety, capt. E. and capt. G. It is true that captain E. in a former scene is called lord E. but the subordination in which they seem to act, and the timorous manner in which they converse, determines them to be only captains. Yet as the latter readers of Shakspeare have been used to find them lords, I have not thought it worth while to degrade them in the margin. Johnson. These two personages may be supposed to be two young French lords serving in the Florentine camp, where they now appear in their military capacity. In the first scene, where the two French lords are introduced, taking leave of the king, they are called in the original edition, Lord E. and Lord G. G. and E. were, I believe, only put to denote the players who performed these characters. In the list of actors prefixed to the first folio, I find the names of Gilburne and Ecclestone, to whom these insignificant parts probably fell. Perhaps, however, these performers first represented the French lords, and afterwards two captains in the Florentine army; and hence the confusion of the old copy. In the first scene of this Act, one of these captains is called throughout, 1 Lord E. The matter is of no great importance. Malone.

Note return to page 1151 5&lblank; till they attain to their abhorred ends;] This may mean —they are perpetually talking about the mischief they intend to do, till they have obtained an opportunity of doing it. Steevens.

Note return to page 1152 6&lblank; in his proper stream o'erflows himself.] That is, “betrays his own secrets in his own talk.” The reply shows that this is the meaning. Johnson.

Note return to page 1153 7Is it not meant damnable in us,] I once thought that we ought to read—“Is it not most damnable;” but no change is necessary. Adjectives are often used as adverbs by our author and his contemporaries. So, in The Winter's Tale: “That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, “And damnable ungrateful.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; and as thou drawest, swear horrible &lblank;.” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound.” Again, in Massinger's Very Woman: “I'll beat thee damnable.” Malone. Mr. M. Mason wishes to read—mean and damnable. Steevens.

Note return to page 1154 8&lblank; his company—] i. e. his companion. It is so used in King Henry V. Malone.

Note return to page 1155 9&lblank; he might take a measure of his own judgments,] This is a very just and moral reason. Bertram, by finding how erroneously he has judged, will be less confident, and more easily moved by admonition. Johnson.

Note return to page 1156 1&lblank; wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.] Parolles is the person whom they are going to anatomize. Counterfeit, besides its ordinary signification,—[a person pretending to be what he is not,] signified also in our author's time a false coin, and a picture. The word set shows that it is here used in the first and the last of these senses. Malone.

Note return to page 1157 2&lblank; bring forth this counterfeit module;] Module being the pattern of any thing, may be here used in that sense. Bring forth this fellow, who, by counterfeit virtue, pretended to make himself a pattern. Johnson. It appears from Minsheu, that module and model were synonymous. In King Richard II. model signifies a thing fashioned after an archetype: “Who was the model of thy father's life.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter.” Again, in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1594: “O how he seems the model of his sire.” Our author, I believe, uses the word here in the same sense:— Bring forth this counterfeit representation of a soldier. Malone.

Note return to page 1158 3&lblank; a double-meaning prophesier.] So, in Macbeth: “That palter with us in a double sense, “And keep the word of promise to our ear, “But break it to our hope.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1159 4&lblank; in usurping his spurs so long.] The punishment of a recreant, or coward, was to have his spurs hacked off. Malone. I believe these words allude only to the ceremonial degradation of a knight. I am yet to learn, that the same mode was practised in disgracing dastards of inferior rank. Steevens.

Note return to page 1160 5Re-enter Soldiers, with Parolles.] See an account of the examination of one of Henry the Eighth's captains, who had gone over to the enemy (which may possibly have suggested this of Parolles) in The Life of Iacke Wilton, 1594, sig. C. iii. Ritson.

Note return to page 1161 6All's one to him.] In the old copy these words are given by mistake to Parolles. The present regulation, which is clearly right, was suggested by Mr. Steevens. Malone. It will be better to give these words to one of the Dumains, than to Bertram. Ritson.

Note return to page 1162 7&lblank; that had the whole theorick &lblank;] i. e. theory. So, in Montaigne's Essaies, translated by J. Florio, 1603: “They know the theorique of all things, but you must seek who shall put it in practice.” Malone. In 1597 was published “Theorique and Practise of Warre, written by Don Philip Prince of Castil, by Don Bernardino de Mendoza. Translated out of the Castilian Tonge in Englishe, by Sir Edward Hoby, Knight,” 4to. Reed. The word has already occurred in Othello: “&lblank; unless the bookish theorick, “Wherein the toged consuls can propose “As masterly as he.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1163 8&lblank; I con him no thanks for't,] To con thanks exactly answers the French scavoir gré. To con is to know. I meet with the same expression in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication, &c. “&lblank; I believe he will con thee little thanks for it.” Again, in Wily Beguiled, 1606: “I con master Churms thanks for this.” Again, in Any Thing For A Quiet Life: “He would not trust you with it, I con him thanks for it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1164 9&lblank; in the nature he delivers it.] He has said truly that our numbers are about five or six thousand; but having described them as “weak and unserviceable,” &c. I am not much obliged to him. Malone. Rather, perhaps, because his narrative, however near the truth, was uttered for a treacherous purpose. Steevens.

Note return to page 1165 1&lblank; if I were to live this present hour, &c.] I do not understand this passage. Perhaps (as an anonymous correspondent observes) we should read:—“if I were to live but this present hour.” Steevens. Perhaps he meant to say—“if I were to die this present hour.” But fear may be supposed to occasion the mistake, as poor frighted Scrub cries: “Spare all I have, and take my life.” Tollet.

Note return to page 1166 2&lblank; off their cassocks,] Cassock signifies a horseman's loose coat, and is used in that sense by the writers of the age of Shakspeare. So, in Every Man in his Humour, Brainworm says: “He will never come within the sight of a cassock or a musquetrest again.” Something of the same kind likewise appears to have been part of the dress of rusticks, in Mucedorus, an anonymous comedy, 1598, erroneously attributed to Shakspeare: “Within my closet there does hang a cassock, “Though base the weed is, 'twas a shepherd's.” Again, in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “&lblank; I will not stick to wear “A blue cassock.” On this occasion a woman is the speaker. So again, Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589: “Who would not think it a ridiculous thing to see a lady in her milkhouse with a velvet gown, and at a bridal in her cassock of mockado?” In The Hollander, a comedy by Glapthorne, 1640, it is again spoken of as part of a soldier's dress: “Here, sir, receive this military cassock, it has seen service.” “&lblank; This military cassock has, I fear, some military hangbys.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1167 3&lblank; my condition,] i. e. my disposition and character. See vol. vi. p. 371. Malone.

Note return to page 1168 4&lblank; intergatories:] i. e. interrogatories. Reed.

Note return to page 1169 5&lblank; the sheriff's fool &lblank;] We are not to suppose that this was a fool kept by the sheriff for his diversion. The custody of all ideots, &c. possessed of landed property, belonged to the King, who was intitled to the income of their lands, but obliged to find them with necessaries. This prerogative, when there was a large estate in the case, was generally granted to some court-favourite, or other person who made suit for and had interest enough to obtain it, which was called begging a fool. But where the land was of inconsiderable value, the natural was maintained out of the profits, by the sheriff, who accounted for them to the crown. As for those unhappy creatures who had neither possessions nor relations, they seem to have been considered as a species of property, being sold or given with as little ceremony, treated as capriciously, and very often, it is to be feared, left to perish as miserably, as dogs or cats. Ritson.

Note return to page 1170 6&lblank; a dumb innocent, that could not say him, nay.] Innocent does not here signify a person without guilt or blame: but means, in the good-natured language of our ancestors, an ideot or natural fool. Agreeably to this sense of the word is the following entry of a burial in the parish register of Charlewood, in Surrey: —“Thomas Sole, an innocent about the age of fifty years and upwards, buried 19th September, 1605.” Whalley. Doll Common, in The Alchemist, being asked for her opinion of the Widow Pliant, observes that she is—“a good dull innocent.” Again, in I Would and I Would Not, a poem, by B. N. 1614: “I would I were an innocent, a foole,   “That can do nothing else but laugh or crie, “And eate fat meate, and never go to schoole,   “And be in love, but with an apple-pie; “Weare a pide coate, a cockes combe, and a bell, “And think it did become me passing well.” Mr. Douce observes to me, that the term—innocent, was originally French. See also a note on Ford's 'Tis Pity She's A Whore, new edition of Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. viii. p. 24. Steevens.

Note return to page 1171 7&lblank; though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.] In Lucian's Contemplantes, Mercury makes Charon remark a man that was killed by the falling of a tile upon his head, whilst he was in the act of putting off an engagement to the next day:—&grk;&gra;&grig; &grm;&gre;&grt;&gra;&grc;&grug; &grl;&grea;&grg;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grst;, &gras;&grp;&grog; &grt;&gro;&gru; &grt;&grea;&grg;&gro;&gru;&grst; &grk;&gre;&grr;&gra;&grm;&grig;&grst; &gres;&grp;&gri;&grp;&grea;&grs;&gro;&gruc;&grs;&gra;, &gro;&grus;&grk; &gros;&gri;&grd;&grap; &grosa;&grt;&gro;&gru; &grk;&gri;&grn;&grha;&grs;&gra;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grst;, &gras;&grp;&grea;&grk;&grt;&gre;&gri;&grn;&gre;&grn; &gras;&gru;&grt;&groa;&grn;. See the life of Pyrrhus in Plutarch. Pyrrhus was killed by a tile. S. W.

Note return to page 1172 8&lblank; your lordship &lblank;] The old copy has Lord. In the MSS. of our author's age they scarcely ever wrote Lordship at full length. Malone.

Note return to page 1173 9Dian. The count's a fool, and full of gold,] After this line there is apparently a line lost, there being no rhyme that corresponds to gold. Johnson. I believe this line is incomplete. The poet might have written: “Dian. The count's a fool, and full of golden store—or ore;” and this addition rhymes with the following alternate verses. Steevens. May we not suppose the former part of the letter to have been prose, as the concluding words are? The sonnet intervenes. The feigned letter from Olivia to Malvolio, is partly prose, partly verse. Malone.

Note return to page 1174 1Half won, is match well made; match, and well make it;] This line has no meaning that I can find. I read, with a very slight alteration: “Half won is match well made; watch, and well make it.” That is, “a match well made is half won; watch, and make it well.” This is, in my opinion, not all the error. The lines are misplaced, and should be read thus: “Half won is match well made; watch, and well make it; “When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it. “After he scores, he never pays the score: “He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before, “And say &lblank;” That is, take his money, and leave him to himself. When the players had lost the second line, they tried to make a connection out of the rest. Part is apparently in couplets, and the whole was probably uniform. Johnson. Perhaps we should read: “Half won is match well made, match, an' we'll make it.” i. e. if we mean to make any match of it at all. Steevens. There is no need of change. The meaning is, “A match well made, is half won; make your match, therefore, but make it well.” M. Mason. The verses having been designed by Parolles as a caution to Diana, after informing her that Bertram is both rich and faithless, he admonishes her not to yield up her virtue to his oaths, but his gold; and having enforced this advice by an adage, recommends her to comply with his importunity, provided half the sum for which she shall stipulate be previously paid her:—“Half won is match well made; match, and well make it.” Henley. Gain half of what he offers, and you are well off; if you yield to him, make your bargain secure. Malone.

Note return to page 1175 2Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss:] The meaning of the word mell, from meler, French, is obvious. So, in Ane Very Excellent and Delectabill Treatise, intitulit Philotus, &c. 1603: “But he na husband is to mee; “Then how could we twa disagree   “That never had na melling.” “Na melling, mistress? will you then “Deny the marriage of that man?” Again, in The Corpus Christi Play, acted at Coventry. MSS. Cott. Vesp. viii. p. 122: “And fayr yonge qwene herby doth dwelle, “Both frech and gay upon to loke, “And a tall man with her doth melle, “The way into hyr chawmer ryght evyn he toke.” The argument of this piece is The Woman Taken in Adultery. Steevens. “Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss.” Mr. Theobald and the subsequent editors read—“boys are but to kiss.” I do not see any need of change, nor do I believe that any opposition was intended between the words mell and kiss. Parolles wishes to recommend himself to Diana, and for that purpose advises her to grant her favours to men, and not to boys. He himself calls his letter “An Advertisement to Diana to take heed of the Allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy.” To mell is used by our author's contemporaries in the sense of meddling, without the indecent idea which Mr. Theobald supposed to be couched under the word in this place. So, in Hall's Satires, 1597: “Hence, ye profane; mell not with holy things.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. i.: “With holy father fits not with such things to mell.” Malone.

Note return to page 1176 3&lblank; by the general's looks,] The old copy has—“by your.” The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio, and the misprint probably arose from ye in the MS. being taken for yr. Malone.

Note return to page 1177 4&lblank; let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live.] Smith might have had this abject sentiment of Parolles in his memory, when he put the following words into the mouth of Lycon, in Phædra and Hippolytus: “O, chain me, whip me, let me be the scorn “Of sordid rabbles, and insulting crowds; “Give me but life, and make that life most wretched!” Steevens.

Note return to page 1178 5&lblank; an egg out of a cloister;] I know not that cloister, though it may etymologically signify “any thing shut,” is used by our author otherwise than for a monastery, and therefore I cannot guess whence this hyperbole could take its original: perhaps it means only this—“He will steal any thing, however trifling, from any place, however holy.” Johnson. “Robbing the spital,” is a common phrase, of the like import. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1179 6&lblank; at a place there call'd Mile-end,] See a note on King Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 1180 7&lblank; he's a cat still.] That is, throw him how you will, he lights upon his legs. Johnson. Bertram has no such meaning. In a speech or two before, he declares his aversion to a cat, and now only continues in the same opinion, and says he hates Parolles as much as he hates a cat. The other explanation will not do, as Parolles could not be meant by the cat, which always lights on its legs, for Parolles is now in a fair way to be totally disconcerted. Steevens. I am still of my former opinion. The speech was applied by King James to Coke, with respect to his subtilties of law, that throw him which way we would, he could still, like a cat, light upon his legs. Johnson. The Count had said, that formerly a cat was the only thing in the world which he could not endure; but that now Parolles was as much the object of his aversion as that animal. After Parolles has gone through his next list of falshoods, the Count adds, “he's more and more a cat,”—still more and more the object of my aversion than he was. As Parolles proceeds still further, one of the Frenchmen observes, that the singularity of his impudence and villainy redeems his character.—Not at all, replies the Count; “he's a cat still;” he is as hateful to me as ever. There cannot, therefore, I think be any doubt that Dr. Johnson's interpretation, “throw him how you will, he lights upon his legs,”—is founded on a misapprehension. Malone.

Note return to page 1181 8&lblank; for a quart d'ecu &lblank;] The fourth part of the smaller French crown; about eight-pence of our money. Malone.

Note return to page 1182 9Why does he ask him of me?] This is nature. Every man is, on such occasions, more willing to hear his neighbour's character than his own. Johnson.

Note return to page 1183 1&lblank; to beguile the supposition &lblank;] That is, to deceive the opinion, to make the Count think me a man that deserves well. Johnson.

Note return to page 1184 2His grace is at Marseilles, &c.] From this line, and others, it appears that Marseilles was pronounced by our author as a word of three syllables. The old copy has here Marcellæ, and in the last scene of this Act, Marcellus. Malone.

Note return to page 1185 3Nor you,] Old copy—Nor your. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1186 4&lblank; my motive &lblank;] Motive for assistant. Warburton. Rather for mover. So, in the last Act of this play: “&lblank; all impediments in fancy's course “Are motives of more fancy.” Malone.

Note return to page 1187 5When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night!] Saucy may very properly signify luxurious, and by consequence lascivious. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; as to remit “Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image “In stamps that are forbid.” Malone.

Note return to page 1188 6&lblank; death and honesty &lblank;] i. e. an honest death. So, in another of our author's plays, we have “death and honour” for honourable death. Steevens. Rather, death accompanied by honesty. Boswell.

Note return to page 1189 7&lblank; your impositions,] i. e. your commands. Malone. An imposition is a task imposed. The term is still current in Universities. Steevens.

Note return to page 1190 8But with the word, the time will bring on summer, &c.] “With the word,” i. e. in an instant of time. Warburton. The meaning of this observation is, that as briars have sweetness with their prickles, so shall these troubles be recompensed with joy. Johnson. I would read: “Yet I 'fray you “But with the word: the time will bring,” &c. And then the sense will be, “I only frighten you by mentioning the word suffer: for a short time will bring on the season of happiness and delight.” Blackstone. As the beginning of Helen's reply is evidently a designed aposiopesis, a break ought to follow it, thus: “Hel. Yet, I pray you &lblank;:” The sense appears to be this:—Do not think that I would engage you in any service that should expose you to such an alternative, or, indeed, to any lasting inconvenience; “But with the word,” i. e. But on the contrary, you shall no sooner have delivered what you will have to testify on my account, than the irksomeness of the service will be over, and every pleasant circumstance to result from it will instantaneously appear. Henley.

Note return to page 1191 9Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us:] The word revives conveys so little sense, that it seems very liable to suspicion: “&lblank; and time revyes us:” i. e. looks us in the face, calls upon us to hasten. Warburton. The present reading is corrupt, and I am afraid the emendation none of the soundest. I never remember to have seen the word revye. One may as well leave blunders as make them. Why may we not read for a shift, without much effort, the time invites us? Johnson. To vye and revye were terms at several ancient games at cards, but particularly at Gleek. So, in Greene's Art of Coney-catching, 1592: “I'll either win something or lose something, therefore I'll vie and revie every card at my pleasure, till either yours or mine come out; therefore 12d. upon this card, my card comes first.” Again: “&lblank; so they vie and revie till some ten shillings be on the stake,” &c. Again: “This flesheth the Conie, and the sweetness of gain makes him frolick, and none more ready to vie and revie than he.” Again: “So they vie and revie, and for once that the Barnacle wins, the Conie gets five.” Perhaps, however, revyes is not the true reading. Shakspeare might have written—time reviles us, i. e. reproaches us for wasting it. Yet, “time revives us” may mean, it rouses us. So, in another play of our author: “&lblank; I would revive the soldiers' hearts, “Because I found them ever as myself.” Steevens. “Time revives us,” seems to refer to the happy and speedy termination of their embarrassments. She had just before said: “With the word, the time will bring on summer.” Henley.

Note return to page 1192 1All's well that ends well;] So, in The Spanish Tragedy: “The end is crown of every work well done.” “All's well that ends well,” is one of Camden's proverbial sentences.

Note return to page 1193 2&lblank; the fine's &lblank;] Fine is end. So, in The London Prodigal, 1605: “Nature hath done the last for me, and there's the fine.” Malone. “&lblank; still the fine's the crown.” So, in Chapman's version of the second Iliad: “We fly, not putting on the crown of our so long-held war.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; and all things have their crown, “As he interpreted.” Steevens. These words seem to be merely a translation of the common Latin proverb: “Finis coronat opus.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1194 3&lblank; whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour:] Parolles is represented as an affected follower of the fashion, and an encourager of his master to run into all the follies of it; where he says: “Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords—they wear themselves in the cap of time—and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed.” Here some particularities of fashionable dress are ridiculed. Saipt-taffata needs no explanation; but villainous saffron is more obscure. This alludes to a fantastic fashion, then much followed, of using yellow starch for their bands and ruffs. So, Fletcher, in his Queen of Corinth: “&lblank; Has he familiarly “Dislik'd your yellow starch; or said your doublet “Was not exactly frenchified &lblank;?” And Jonson's Devil's an Ass: “Carmen and chimney-sweepers are got into the yellow starch.” This was invented by one Turner, a tire-woman, a court-bawd, and, in all respects, of so infamous a character, that her invention deserved the name of villainous saffron. This woman was, afterwards, amongst the miscreants concerned in the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, for which she was hanged at Tyburn, and would die in a yellow ruff of her own invention: which made yellow starch so odious, that it immediately went out of fashion. 'Tis this, then, to which Shakspeare alludes: but using the word saffron for yellow, a new idea presented itself, and he pursues his thought under a quite different allusion—“Whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youths of a nation in his colour;” i. e. of his temper and disposition. Here the general custom of that time, of colouring paste with saffron, is alluded to. So, in The Winter's Tale: “I must have saffron to colour the warden pyes.” Warburton. This play was probably written several years before the death of Sir Thomas Overbury. The plain meaning of the passage seems to be: “Whose evil qualities are of so deep a dye, as to be sufficient to corrupt the most innocent, and to render them of the same disposition with himself.” Malone. Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses, published in 1595, speaks of starch of various colours: “&lblank; The one arch or piller wherewith the devil's kingdome of great ruffes is underpropped, is a certain kind of liquid matter which they call startch, wherein the devill hath learned them to wash and die their ruffes, which, being drie, will stand stiff and inflexible about their neckes. And this startch they make of divers substances, sometimes of wheate flower, of branne, and other graines: sometimes of rootes, and sometimes of other thinges: of all collours and hues, as white, redde, blewe, purple, and the like.” In The World toss'd at Tennis, a masque by Middleton, the five starches are personified, and introduced contesting for superiority: Again, in Albumazar, 1615: “What price bears wheat and saffron, that your band's so stiff and yellow?” Again, in Heywood's If You Know Not Me, You Know Nobody, 1606: “&lblank; have taken an order to wear yellow garters, points, and shoe-tyings, and 'tis thought yellow will grow a custom.” “It has been long used at London.” It may be added, that in the year 1446, a parliament was held at Trim, in Ireland, by which the natives were directed, among other things, not to wear shirts stained with saffron. Steevens. See a note on Albumazar, Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. vii. p. 156, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 1195 4I would, I had not known him!] This dialogue serves to connect the incidents of Parolles with the main plan of the play. Johnson. I should wish to read—“he had not known him,” meaning that her son had not. Her knowing Parolles was of little consequence, but Bertram's knowing him caused the death of Helen, which she deplores. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1196 5&lblank; herb of grace.] i. e. rue. So, in Hamlet: “there's rue for you—we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1197 6&lblank; in grass.] The old copy, by an evident error of the press, reads—grace. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. The word salad, in the preceding speech, was also supplied by him. Malone.

Note return to page 1198 7&lblank; I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.] Part of the furniture of a fool was a bauble, which, though it be generally taken to signify any thing of small value, has a precise and determinable meaning. It is, in short, a kind of truncheon with a head carved on it, which the fool anciently carried in his hand. There is a representation of it in a picture of Watteau, formerly in the collection of Dr. Mead, which is engraved by Baron, and called Comediens Italiens. A faint resemblance of it may be found in the frontispiece of L. de Guernier to King Lear, in Mr. Pope's edition in duodecimo. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1604: “&lblank; if a fool, we must bear his bauble.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “The fool will not leave his bauble for the Tower of London.” Again, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “She is enamoured of the fool's bauble.” In the Stultifera Navis, 1497, are several representations of this instrument, as well as in Cocke's Lorel's Bote, printed by Wynkyn de Worde. Again, in Lyte's Herbal: “In the hollowness of the said flower (the great blue wolfe's-bane) grow two small crooked hayres, somewhat great at the end, fashioned like a fool's bable.” An ancient proverb, in Ray's Collection, points out the materials of which these baubles were made: “If every fool should wear a bable, fewel would be dear.” See figure 12, in the plate at the end of The First Part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's explanation. Steevens. The word bauble is here used in two senses. The Clown had another bauble besides that which the editor alludes to. M. Mason. When Cromwell, 1653, forcibly turned out the rump-parliament, he bid the soldiers, “take away that fool's bauble,” pointing to the speaker's mace. Blackstone.

Note return to page 1199 8&lblank; an English name;] The old copy reads—maine. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. Maine, or head of hair, agrees better with the context than name. His hair was thick. Henley.

Note return to page 1200 9&lblank; his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there.] This is intolerable nonsense. The stupid editors, because the devil was talked of, thought no quality would suit him but hotter. We should read—“morehonour'd. A joke upon the French people, as if they held a dark complexion, which is natural to them, in more estimation than the English do, who are generally white and fair. Warburton. The allusion is, in all probability, to the Morbus Gallicus. Steevens.

Note return to page 1201 1The black prince,] Bishop Hall, in his Satires, b. v. sat. ii. has given the same name to Pluto: “So the black prince is broken loose again,” &c. Holt White.

Note return to page 1202 2&lblank; to suggest thee from thy master &lblank;] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read seduce, but without authority. To suggest had anciently the same meaning. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, “I nightly lodge her in an upper tower.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1203 3I am a woodland fellow, sir, &c.] Shakspeare is but rarely guilty of such impious trash. And it is observable, that then he always puts that into the mouth of his fools, which is now grown the characteristic of the fine gentleman. Warburton.

Note return to page 1204 4But, sure, he is the prince of the world,] I think we should read—“But since he is,” &c. and thus Sir T. Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 1205 5&lblank; the flowery way, &lblank; and the great fire.] The same impious stuff occurs again in Macbeth: “&lblank; the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1206 6&lblank; unhappy.] i. e. mischievously waggish, unlucky. Johnson. So, in King Henry VIII.: “You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, “I should judge now unhappily.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1207 7So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.] Should not we read—no place, that is, no station, or office in the family? Tyrwhitt. A pace is a certain or prescribed walk; so we say of a man meanly obsequious, that he has learned his paces, and of a horse who moves irregularly, that he has no paces. Johnson.

Note return to page 1208 8Laf. A scar nobly got, &c.] This speech, in the second folio, and the modern editions, is given to the Countess, and perhaps rightly. It is more probable that she should have spoken thus favourably of Bertram, than Lafeu. In the original copy, to each of the speeches of the Countess, Lad. or La. [i. e. Lady] is prefixed; so that the mistake was very easy. Malone. I do not discover the improbability of this commendation from Lafeu, who is at present anxious to marry his own daughter to Bertram. Steevens.

Note return to page 1209 9&lblank; carbonadoed &lblank;] i. e. scotched like a piece of meat for the gridiron. So, in Coriolanus: “Before Corioli, he scotched and notched him like a carbonado.” Steevens. The word is again used in King Lear. Kent says to the Steward— “I'll carbonado your shanks for you.” Malone.

Note return to page 1210 1&lblank; feathers, which &lblank; nod at every man.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; a blue promontory, “With trees upon't, that nod unto the world &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1211 2Enter a gentle Astringer.] Perhaps a gentle stranger, i. e. a stranger of gentle condition, a gentleman.—The error of this conjecture, (which I have learned, since our first edition made its appearance, from an old book of Falconry, 1633,) should teach diffidence to those who conceive the words which they do not understand to be corruptions. An ostringer or astringer is a falconer, and such a character was probably to be met with about a court which was famous for the love of that diversion. So, in Hamlet: “We'll e'en to it like French Falconers.” A “gentle astringer” is a “gentleman falconer.” The word is derived from ostercus or austercus, a goshawk; and thus, says Cowell, in his Law Dictionary: “We usually call a falconer, who keeps that kind of hawk, an austringer.” Again, in The Book of Hawking, &c. bl. l. no date: “Now bicause I spoke of ostregiers, ye shall understand that they ben called ostregiers that keep gosshauks or tercels,” &c. I learn from Blount's Antient Tenures, that a “gosshawk is in our records termed by the several names Ostercum, Hostricum, Estricum, Asturcum, and Austurcum,” and all from the French Austour. Steevens.

Note return to page 1212 3Our means will make us means.] Shakspeare delights much in this kind of reduplication, sometimes so as to obscure his meaning. Helena says, “they will follow with such speed as the means which they have will give them ability to exert.” Johnson.

Note return to page 1213 4&lblank; Lavatch,] This is an undoubted, and perhaps irremediable corruption of some French word. Steevens. Evidently la vache. Talbot.

Note return to page 1214 5&lblank; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, &c.] By the whimsical caprice of Fortune, I am fallen into the mud, and smell somewhat strong of her displeasure. In Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609, we meet with the same phrase: “&lblank; but Fortune's mood “Varies again.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “When fortune, in her shift and change of mood, “Spurns down her late belov'd.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Fortune is merry, “And in this mood will give us any thing.” Mood is again used for resentment or caprice in Othello: “You are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice.” Again, for anger, in the old Taming of a Shrew, 1607: “&lblank; This brain-sick man, “That in his mood cares not to murder me.” Dr. Warburton, in his edition, changed mood into moat, and his emendation was adopted, I think, without necessity, by the subsequent editors. All the expressions enumerated by him,—“I will eat no fish,”—“he hath fallen into the unclean fish-pond of her displeasure,” &c.—agree sufficiently well with the text, without any change. Parolles having talked metaphorically of being muddy'd by the displeasure of fortune, the Clown, to render him ridiculous, supposes him to have actually fallen into a fish-pond. Malone. In former editions—“but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.” I believe the poet wrote—“in fortune's moat;” because the Clown, in the very next speech, replies—“I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering;” and again, when he comes to repeat Parolles's petition to Lafeu, “That hath fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal.” And again—“Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may,” &c. In all which places, it is obvious a moat or a pond is the allusion. Besides, Parolles smelling strong, as he says, of fortune's strong displeasure, carries on the same image; for as the moats round old seats were always replenished with fish, so the Clown's joke of holding his nose, we may presume, proceeded from this, that the privy was always over the moat; and therefore the Clown humorously says, when Parolles is pressing him to deliver his letter to Lord Lafeu, “Foh! pr'ythee stand away; a paper from fortune's close-stool, to give to a nobleman!” Warburton. Dr. Warburton's correction may be supported by a passage in The Alchemist: “Subtle. &lblank; Come, along, sir, “I must shew you Fortune's privy lodgings. “Face. Are they perfum'd, and his bath ready? “Sub. All. “Only the fumigation somewhat strong.” Farmer. Though Mr. Malone defends the old reading, I have retained Dr. Warburton's emendation, which, in my opinion, is one of the luckiest ever produced. Steevens. Yet Mr. Steevens in a note on the passage which I have quoted from Pericles, Act III. Chorus; “&lblank; Fortune's mood “Varies again &lblank;.” Produces the reading of the original text which I have here presented as an illustration. Malone.

Note return to page 1215 6&lblank; allow the wind.] i. e. stand to the leeward of me. Steevens.

Note return to page 1216 7Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor.] Nothing could be conceived with greater humour or justness of satire, than this speech. The use of the stinking metaphor is an odious fault, which grave writers often commit. It is not uncommon to see moral declaimers against vice describe her as Hesiod did the fury Tristitia: &grT;&grhc;&grst; &gres;&grk; &grr;&grira;&grn;&grw;&grn; &grm;&grua;&grc;&gra;&gri; &grr;&grera;&gro;&grn;. Upon which Longinus justly observes, that, instead of giving a terrible image, he has given a very nasty one. Cicero cautions well against it, in his book de Orat. “Quoniam hæc, (says he,) vel summa laus est in verbis transferendis ut sensum feriat id, quod translatum sit, fugienda est omnis turpitudo earum rerum, ad quas eorum animos qui audiunt trahet similitudo. Nolo morte dici Africani castratam esse rempublicam. Nolo sturcus curiæ dici Glauciam.” Our poet himself is extremely delicate in this respect; who, throughout his large writings, if you except a passage in Hamlet, has scarce a metaphor that can offend the most squeamish reader. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's recollection must have been weak, or his zeal for his author extravagant, otherwise he could not have ventured to countenance him on the score of delicacy; his offensive metaphors and allusions being undoubtedly more frequent than those of all his dramatick predecessors or contemporaries. Steevens. In the earlier editions of Shakspeare by Mr. Steevens, he was content to pass over Warburton's remark in silent acquiescence. But his propensity to satire so far increased in later years, that even the great poet, whose works he had been so long employed in illustrating, could not escape his lash. Of this the reader may have observed abundant proofs in his bitter comments upon the character of Hamlet, and his contemptuous depreciation of Shakspeare's poems. The charge which he has brought forward in the present instance, is unfortunately of such a nature, that it will scarcely admit of more than a general contradiction, without incurring the very censure which is applied to the poet; but, as to our author's “dramatick predecessors,” some judgment may be formed of their superior delicacy, by Mr. Steevens's own note on The Taming of A Shrew, vol. v. p. 370. Without referring to dramas that are not accessible to every reader, the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher throughout will serve to show with what justice his contemporaries are placed above him, either for purity of thought or language. The first scene of Jonson's Alchemist, and his masque of The Metamorphosed Gipsies, performed at Court, will also be more than sufficient to show how little foundation there is for Mr. Steevens's assertion. Boswell.

Note return to page 1217 8Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat,] We should read—“or fortune's cat;” and, indeed, I believe there is an error in the former part of the sentence, and that we ought to read—“Here is a puss of fortune's,” instead of pur. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1218 9&lblank; I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort,] We should read—“similes of comfort,” such as the calling him fortune's cat, carp, &c. Warburton. The meaning is, I testify my pity for his distress, by encouraging him with a gracious smile. The old reading may stand. Heath. Dr. Warburton's proposed emendation may be countenanced by an entry on the books of the Stationers' Company, 1595: “&lblank; A booke of verie pythie similies, comfortable and profitable for all men to reade.” The same mistake occurs in the old copies of King Henry IV. Part I. where, instead of “unsavoury similes” we have “unsavoury smiles.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1219 1&lblank; under her?] Her, which is not in the first copy, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1220 2&lblank; save your word.] i. e. you need not ask;—here it is. Malone.

Note return to page 1221 3You beg more than one word then.] A quibble is intended on the word Parolles, which, in French, is plural, and signifies words. One, which is not found in the old copy, was added, perhaps unnecessarily, by the editor of the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1222 4&lblank; you shall eat;] Parolles has many of the lineaments of Falstaff, and seems to be the character which Shakspeare delighted to draw, a fellow that had more wit than virtue. Though justice required that he should be detected and exposed, yet his “vices sit so fit in him” that he is not at last suffered to starve. Johnson.

Note return to page 1223 5&lblank; esteem &lblank;] Dr. Warburton, in Theobald's edition, altered this word to estate; in his own he lets it stand, and explains it by worth or estate. But esteem is here reckoning or estimate. Since the loss of Helen, with her virtues and qualifications, our account is sunk; what we have to reckon ourselves king of, is much poorer than before. Johnson. Meaning that his esteem was lessened in its value by Bertram's misconduct; since a person who was honoured with it could be so ill treated as Helena had been, and that with impunity. Johnson's explanation is very unnatural. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1224 6&lblank; home.] That is, completely, in its full extent. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “That thrusted home,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1225 7&lblank; blaze of youth;] The old copy reads—blade. Steevens. “Blade of youth” is the spring of early life, when the man is yet green. Oil and fire suit but ill with blade, and therefore Dr. Warburton reads, “blaze of youth.” Johnson. This very probable emendation was first proposed by Mr. Theobald, who has produced these two passages in support of it: “&lblank; I do know “When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul “Lends the tongue vows. These blazes,” &c. Hamlet. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “For Hector, in his blaze of wrath,” &c. Malone. In Hamlet we have also “flaming youth,” and in the present comedy “the quick fire of youth.” I read, therefore, without hesitation, —blaze. Steevens.

Note return to page 1226 8Of richest eyes;] Shakspeare means that her beauty had astonished those, who, having seen the greatest number of fair women, might be said to be the richest in ideas of beauty. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; to have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1227 9&lblank; the first view shall kill All repetition:] “The first interview shall put an end to all recollection of the past.” Shakspeare is now hastening to the end of the play, finds his matter sufficient to fill up his remaining scenes, and therefore, as on such other occasions, contracts his dialogue and precipitates his action. Decency required that Bertram's double crime of cruelty and disobedience, joined likewise with some hypocrisy, should raise more resentment; and that though his mother might easily forgive him, his king should more pertinaciously vindicate his own authority and Helen's merit. Of all this Shakspeare could not be ignorant, but Shakspeare wanted to conclude his play. Johnson.

Note return to page 1228 1I am not a day of season,] That is, of uninterrupted rain; one of those wet days that usually happen about the vernal equinox. A similar expression occurs in The Rape of Lucrece: “But I alone, alone must sit and pine, “Seasoning the earth with showers.” The word is still used in the same sense in Virginia, in which government, and especially on the eastern shore of it, where the descendants of the first settlers have been less mixed with later emigrants, many expressions of Shakspeare's time are still current. Henley. “A day of season,” means a seasonable day; but a mixture of sunshine and hail, of winter and summer, is unseasonable. The word seasoning, in Mr. Henley's quotation, is used in a different sense, as would have been apparent if he had given the whole of the passage: “Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine.” Malone.

Note return to page 1229 2My high-repented blames,] High-repented blames, are faults repented of to the height, to the utmost. Shakspeare has high-fantastical in Twelfth-Night. Steevens.

Note return to page 1230 3The inaudible and noiseless foot of time, &c.] This idea seems to have been caught from the third book of Sidney's Arcadia; “The summons of Time had so creepingly stolne upon him, that hee had heard scarcely the noise of his feet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1231 4Our own love waking, &c.] These two lines I should be glad to call an interpolation of a player. They are ill connected with the former, and not very clear or proper in themselves. I believe the author made two couplets to the same purpose; wrote them both down that he might take his choice; and so they happened to be both preserved. For sleep I think we should read slept. Love cries to see what was done while hatred slept, and suffered mischief to be done. Or the meaning may be, ‘that hatred still continues to sleep at ease, while love is weeping;’ and so the present reading may stand. Johnson. I cannot comprehend this passage as it stands, and have no doubt but we should read— “Our old love waking,” &c. Extinctus amabitur idem. “Our own love,” can mean nothing but our self-love, which would not be sense in this place; but “our old love waking,” means, our former affection being revived. M. Mason. This conjecture appears to me extremely probable; but waking will not, I think, here admit of Mr. M. Mason's interpretation, being revived; nor, indeed, is it necessary to his emendation. It is clear, from the subsequent line, that waking is here used in its ordinary sense. Hate sleeps at ease, unmolested by any remembrance of the dead, while old love, reproaching itself for not having been sufficiently kind to a departed friend, “wakes and weeps;” crying, “that's good that's gone.” Malone.

Note return to page 1232 *First folio, cesse.

Note return to page 1233 5Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!] I have ventured against the authorities of the printed copies, to prefix the Countess's name to these two lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a favourer of Bertram; but if Bertram should make a bad husband the second time, why should it give the King such mortal pangs? A fond and disappointed mother might reasonably not desire to live to see such a day; and from her the wish of dying, rather than to behold it, comes with propriety. Theobald.

Note return to page 1234 6The last that e'er I took her leave &lblank;] The last time that I saw her, when she was leaving the court. Mr. Rowe and the subsequent editors read—“that e'er she took,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1235 7I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that &lblank;] Our author here, as in many other places, seems to have forgotten, in the close of the sentence, how he began to construct it. See p. 311. The meaning however is clear, and I do not suspect any corruption. Malone.

Note return to page 1236 8In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,] Bertram still continues to have too little virtue to deserve Helen. He did not know indeed that it was Helen's ring, but he knew that he had it not from a window. Johnson.

Note return to page 1237 8&lblank; noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd:] Thus the old copy.—Dr. Johnson reads—engaged. Steevens. The plain meaning is, when she saw me receive the ring, she thought me engaged to her. Johnson. Ingag'd may be intended in the same sense with the reading proposed by Mr. Theobald, [ungag'd] i. e. not engaged; as Shakspeare, in another place, uses gag'd for engaged. Merchant of Venice, Act I. Sc. I. Tyrwhitt. I have no doubt that ingaged (the reading of the folio) is right. Gaged is used by other writers, as well as by Shakspeare, for engaged. So, in a Pastoral, by Daniel, 1605: “Not that the earth did gage “Unto the husbandman “Her voluntary fruits, free without fees.” Ingaged, in the sense of unengaged, is a word of exactly the same formation as inhabitable, which is used by Shakspeare and the contemporary writers for uninhabitable. Malone.

Note return to page 1238 9Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,] Plutus, the grand alchemist, who knows the tincture which confers the properties of gold upon base metals, and the matter by which gold is multiplied, by which a small quantity of gold is made to communicate its qualities to a large mass of base metal. In the reign of Henry the Fourth a law was made to forbid all men thenceforth to multiply gold, or use any craft of multiplication. Of which law, Mr. Boyle, when he was warm with the hope of transmutation, procured a repeal. Johnson.

Note return to page 1239 1&lblank; Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'twas hers,] i. e. confess the ring was hers, for you know it as well as you know that you are yourself. Edwards. The true meaning of this expression is, ‘If you know that your faculties are so sound, as that you have the proper consciousness of your own actions, and are able to recollect and relate what you have done, tell me, &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 1240 2My forepast proofs, howe'er the matter fall; Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear'd too little.] ‘The proofs which I have already had are sufficient to show that my fears were not vain and irrational. I have rather been hitherto more easy than I ought, and have unreasonably had too little fear.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 1241 3Who hath, for four or five removes, come short, &c.] Who hath missed the opportunity of presenting it in person to your Majesty, either at Marseilles, or on the road from thence to Rousillon, in consequence of having been four or five removes behind you. Malone. Removes are journeys or post-stages. Johnson.

Note return to page 1242 4I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him: for this, I'll none of him.] Thus the second folio. The first omits—him. Either reading is capable of explanation. The meaning of the earliest copy seems to be this: ‘I'll buy me a new son-in-law, &c. and toll the bell for this; i. e. look upon him as a dead man. The second reading, as Dr. Percy suggests, may imply: ‘I'll buy me a son-in-law as they buy a horse in a fair; toul him, i. e. enter him on the toul or toll-book, to prove I came honestly by him, and ascertain my title to him.’ In a play called The Famous History of Tho. Stukely, 1605, is an allusion to this custom: “Gov. I will be answerable to thee for thy horses. “ Stuk. Dost thou keep a tole-booth? zounds, dost thou make a horse-courser of me?” Again, in Hudibras, part ii. c. i.: “&lblank; a roan gelding “Where, when, by whom, and what y'were sold for “And in the open market toll'd for.” Alluding (as Dr. Grey observes) to the two statutes relating to the sale of horses, 2 and 3 Phil. and Mary, and 31 Eliz. c. 12. and publickly tolling them in fairs, to prevent the sale of such as were stolen, and to preserve the property to the right owner. The previous mention of a fair seems to justify the reading I have adopted from the second folio. Steevens. The passage should be pointed thus; “I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll; “For this I'll none of him.” That is, “I'll buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and pay toll; as for this, I will have none of him.” M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is, “I will purchase a son in law at a fair, and get rid of this worthless fellow, by tolling him out of it.” To toll a person out of a fair was a phrase of the time. So, in Camden's Remaines, 1605: “At a Bartholomew Faire at London there was an escheater of the same city, that had arrested a clothier that was outlawed, and had seized his goods, which he had brought into the faire, tolling him out of the faire, by a traine.” And toll for this, may, however, mean—“and I will sell this fellow in a fair, as I would a horse, publickly entering in the toll-book the particulars of the sale.” For the hint of this latter interpretation I am indebted to Dr. Percy. I incline, however, to the former exposition. The following passage in King Henry IV. Part II. may be adduced in support of Mr. Steevens's interpretation of this passage: “Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown,—and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee.” Here Falstaff certainly means to speak equivocally; and one of his senses is, “I will take care to have thee knocked in the head, and thy friends shall ring thy funeral knell.” Malone.

Note return to page 1243 5I wonder, sir, since wives, &c.] This passage is thus read in the first folio: “I wonder, sir, sir, wives are monsters to you, “And that you fly them, as you swear them lordship, “Yet you desire to marry &lblank;.” Which may be corrected thus: “I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters,” &c. The editors have made it—“wives are so monstrous to you,” and in the next line—“swear to them,” instead of—“swear them lordship.” Though the latter phrase be a little obscure, it should not have been turned out of the text without notice. I suppose lordship is put for that protection which the husband, in the marriage ceremony, promises to the wife. Tyrwhitt. As, I believe, here signifies as soon as. Malone. I read with Mr. Tyrwhitt, whose emendation I have placed in the text. It may be observed, however, that the second folio reads: “I wonder, sir, wives are such monsters to you &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1244 6&lblank; shall cease,] i. e. decease, die. So, in King Lear: “Fall and cease.” The word is used in the same sense in p. 476 of the present comedy. Steevens.

Note return to page 1245 7&lblank; a common gamester to the camp.] The following passage, in an ancient MS. tragedy, entitled The Second Maiden's Tragedy, will sufficiently elucidate the idea once affixed to the term—gamester, when applied to a female: “'Tis to me wondrous how you should spare the day “From amorous clips, much less the general season “When all the world's a gamester.” Again, in Pericles, Lysimachus asks Mariana— “Were you a gamester at five or at seven?” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; daughters of the game.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1246 8Whose high respect, and rich validity,] Validity means value. So, in King Lear: “No less in space, validity, and pleasure.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “Of what validity and pitch soever.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1247 9&lblank; 'tis it:] The old copy has—'tis hit. The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. In many of our old chronicles I have found hit printed instead of it. Hence, probably, the mistake here. Mr. Pope reads—“and 'tis his.” Malone. Or, “he blushes, and 'tis fit.” Henley.

Note return to page 1248 1Methought, you said,] The poet has here forgot himself. Diana has said no such thing. Blackstone.

Note return to page 1249 2He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,] Quoted has the same sense as noted, or observed. So, in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 262: “I'm sorry that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1250 3&lblank; debosh'd;] Debauched. See a note on The Tempest, Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 1251 4Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:] Here the modern editors read: “Which nature sickens with &lblank;.” A most licentious corruption of the old reading, in which the punctuation only wants to be corrected. We should read, as here printed: “Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:” i. e. only to speak a truth. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1252 5&lblank; all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy;] ‘Every thing that obstructs love is an occasion by which love is heightened. And, to conclude, her solicitation concurring with her fashionable appearance, she got the ring.’ I am not certain that I have attained the true meaning of the word modern, which, perhaps, signifies rather meanly pretty. Johnson. I believe modern means common. The sense will then be this —“Her solicitation concurring with her appearance of being common,” i. e. with the appearance of her being to be had, as we say at present. Shakspeare uses the word modern frequently, and always in this sense. So, in King John: “&lblank; scorns a modern invocation.” Again, in As You Like It: “Full of wise saws and modern instances.” “Trifles, such as we present modern friends with.” Again, in the present comedy, p. 373: “&lblank; to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless.” Mr. M. Mason says, that “modern grace” means, ‘with a tolerable degree of beauty.’ He questions also the insufficiency of the instances brought in support of my explanation, but adduces none in defence of his own. Steevens. Dr. Johnson's last interpretation is certainly the true one. See vol. vi. p. 409. I think, with Mr. Steevens, that modern here, as almost every where in Shakspeare, means common, ordinary; but do not suppose that Bertram here means to call Diana a common gamester, though he has styled her so in a former passage. Malone.

Note return to page 1253 6May justly diet me.] ‘May justly loath or be weary of me,’ as people generally are of a regimen or prescribed and scanty diet. Such, I imagine, is the meaning. Mr. Collins thinks she means— “May justly make me fast, by depriving me (as Desdemona says) of the rites for which I love you.” Malone. Mr. Collins's interpretation is just. The allusion may be to the management of hawks, who were half starved till they became tractable. Thus, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; I'll watch him, “Till he be dieted to my request.” “To fast, like one who takes diet,” is a comparison that occurs in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Steevens.

Note return to page 1254 7&lblank; he did love her; But how?] But how perhaps belongs to the King's next speech: “But how, how, I pray you?” This suits better with the King's apparent impatience and solicitude for Helena. Malone. Surely, all transfer of these words is needless. Hamlet addresses such another flippant interrogatory to himself: “The mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1255 8&lblank; companion &lblank;] i. e. fellow. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, “I know thee not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1256 9&lblank; But thou art too fine in thy evidence;] Too fine, too full of finesse; too artful. A French expression—trop fine. So, in Sir Henry Wotton's celebrated Parallel: “We may rate this one secret, as it was finely carried, at 4000l. in present money.” So also, in Bacon's Apophthegms, 1625, p. 252: “Your Majesty was too fine for my lord Burghley.” Malone. So, in a very scarce book, entitled, A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels: conteyning Fiue Tragicall Histories, &c. Translated out of French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton,] 4to. 1578: “Woulde God, (sayd he,) I were to deale with a man, that I might recover my losse by fine force: but sith my controversie is agaynst a woman, it muste be wonne by loue and favoure.” p. 51. Again, p. 277: “&lblank; as a butterflie flickering from floure to floure, if it be caught by a childe that finely followeth it,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1257 1&lblank; customer &lblank;] i. e. a common woman. So, in Othello: “I marry her!—what?—a customer!” Steevens.

Note return to page 1258 2He knows himself, &c.] The dialogue is too long, since the audience already knew the whole transaction; nor is there any reason for puzzling the King and playing with his passions; but it was much easier than to make a pathetical interview between Helen and her husband, her mother, and the King. Johnson.

Note return to page 1259 3&lblank; exorcist &lblank;] This word is used, not very properly, for enchanter. Johnson. Shakspeare invariably uses the word exorcist, to imply a person who can raise spirits, not in the usual sense of one that can lay them. So, Ligarius, in Julius Cæsar, says— “Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up “My mortified spirit.” And in The Second Part of Henry VI. where Bolingbroke is about to raise a spirit, he asks Eleanor— “Will your ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?” M. Mason. Such was the common acceptation of the word in our author's time. So, Minsheu, in his Dict. 1617: “An Exorcist or Conjurer.” —So also, “To conjure or exorcise a spirit.” “The difference between a Conjurer, a Witch, and an Inchanter, according to that writer, is as follows: “The Conjurer seemeth by praiers and invocations of God's powerfull names, to compell the Devill to say or doe what he commandeth him. The Witch dealeth rather by a friendly and voluntarie conference or agreement between him or her and the Divell or Familiar, to have his or her turne served, in lieu or stead of blood or other gift offered unto him, especially of his or her soule:—And both these differ from Inchanters or Sorcerers, because the former two have personal conference with the Divell, and the other meddles but with medicines and ceremonial formes of words called charmes, without apparition.” Malone.

Note return to page 1260 4And are &lblank;] The old copy reads—And is. Mr. Rowe made the emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 1261 5The king's a beggar, now the play is done:] Though these lines are sufficiently intelligible in their obvious sense, yet perhaps there is some allusion to the old tale of The King and the Beggar, which was the subject of a ballad, and, as it should seem from the following lines in King Richard II. of some popular interlude also: “Our scene is altered from a serious thing, “And now chang'd to the beggar and the king.” Malone.

Note return to page 1262 6Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;] The meaning is: “Grant us then your patience,” hear us without interruption. “And take our parts;” that is, support and defend us. Johnson.

Note return to page 1263 7This play has many delightful scenes, though not sufficiently probable, and some happy characters, though not new, nor produced by any deep knowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster and a coward, such as has always been the sport of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laughter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare. I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helen as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness. The story of Bertram and Diana had been told before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the truth, scarcely merited to be heard a second time. Johnson.

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