Note return to page 1 *In Nashe's Lenten Stuff, 1599, it is said, that no less than six hundred witches were executed at one time: “&lblank; it is evident, by the confession of the six hundred Scotch witches executed in Scotland at Bartholomew tide was twelve month, that in Yarmouth road they were all together in a plump on Christmas eve was two years, when the great flood was; and there stirred up such tornadoes and furicanoes of tempests, as will be spoken of there whilst any winds or storms and tempests chafe and puff in the lower region.” Reed.

Note return to page 2 *&lblank; the daughter &lblank;] More probably the sister. See note on The Cronykil of Andrew Wyntown, vol. ii. p. 475. Steevens.

Note return to page 3 1Lady Macbeth.] Her name was Gruach, filia Bodhe. See Lord Hailes's Annals of Scotland, ii. 332. Ritson. Androw of Wyntown, in his Cronykil, informs us that this personage was the widow of Duncan; a circumstance with which Shakspeare must have been wholly unacquainted: “&lblank; Dame Grwok, hys Emys wyf, “Tuk, and led wyth hyr his lyf, “And held hyr bathe hys Wyf and Qweyne, “As befor than scho had beyne “Til hys Eme Qwene, lyvand “Quhen he was Kyng wyth Crowne rygnand: “For lytyl in honowre than had he “The greys of affynyte.” B. vi. 35. From the incidents, however, with which Hector Boece has diversified the legend of Macbeth, our poet derived greater advantages than he could have found in the original story, as related by Wyntown. The 18th Chapter of his Cronykil, book vi. together with observations by its accurate and learned editor, will be subjoined to this tragedy, for the satisfaction of inquisitive readers. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 2&lblank; three Witches.] As the play now stands, in Act IV. Sc. I. three other witches make their appearance. See note thereon. Steevens.

Note return to page 5 1&lblank; hurlyburly's &lblank;] However mean this word may seem to modern ears, it came recommended to Shakspeare by the authority of Henry Peacham, who, in the year 1577, published a book professing to treat of the ornaments of language. It is called The Garden of Eloquence, and has this passage: “Onomatopeia, when we invent, devise, fayne, and make a name intimating the sownd of that it signifyeth, as hurlyburly, for an uprore and tumultuous stirre.” Henderson. So, in a translation of Herodian, 12mo. 1635, p. 26: “&lblank; there was a mighty hurlyburly in the campe,” &c. Again, p. 324: “&lblank; great hurliburlies being in all parts of the empire,” &c. Reed. So, also, in Turbervile's Tragical Tales: “But by the meane of horse and man “Such hurlie burlie grewe.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. iii. st. 30: “Thereof great hurly burly moved was.” Malone. Mr. Todd has the following note on the line quoted from Spenser: “None of the commentators have noticed, by any production from the literature of Scotland, the propriety of the dramatick poet's putting the expression into the Scottish hag's mouth. The expression is to be found in a book published indeed long after Shakspeare's time, but containing probably many old saws, entitled, “Adagia Scotica, or a Collection of Scotch Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases. Collected by R. B. Very usefull and delightful, Lond. 12mo. 1668: “Little kens the wife that sits by the fire “How the wind blows cold in hurle burle swyre:” that is, how the wind blows cold in the tempestuous mountain-top: for swyre is used either for the top of a hill, or the pass over a hill. This sense seems agreeable also to the Witch's answer: “When the hurlyburly's done,” that is, the storm; for they enter in thunder and lightning. Boswell.

Note return to page 6 2When the battle's lost and won:] i. e. the battle in which Macbeth was then engaged. Warburton. So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; while we reason here, “A royal battle might be won and lost.” So also Speed, speaking of the battle of Towton: “&lblank; by which only stratagem, as it was constantly averred, the battle and day was lost and won.” Chronicle, 1611. Malone.

Note return to page 7 3&lblank; ere set of sun.] The old copy unnecessarily and harshly reads— “&lblank; ere the set of sun.” Steevens.

Note return to page 8 4There to meet with Macbeth.] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope, and, after him, other editors: “There I go to meet Macbeth.” The insertion, however, seems to be injudicious. To “meet with Macbeth” was the final drift of all the Witches in going to the heath, and not the particular business or motive of any one of them in distinction from the rest; as the interpolated words, I go, in the mouth of the third Witch, would most certainly imply. Somewhat, however, (as the verse is evidently imperfect,) must have been left out by the transcriber or printer. Mr. Capell has therefore proposed to remedy this defect, by reading— “There to meet with brave Macbeth.” But surely, to beings intent only on mischief, a soldier's bravery, in an honest cause, would have been no subject of encomium. Mr. Malone (omitting all previous remarks, &c. on this passage) assures us, that—“There is here used as a dissyllable.” I wish he had supported his assertion by some example. Those, however, who can speak the line thus regulated, and suppose they are reciting a verse, may profit by the direction they have received. The pronoun “their,” having two vowels together, may be split into two syllables; but the adverb “there” can only be used as a monosyllable, unless pronounced as if it were written “the-re,” a licence in which even Chaucer has not indulged himself. It was convenient for Shakspeare's introductory scene, that his first Witch should appear uninstructed in her mission. Had she not required information, the audience must have remained ignorant of what it was necessary for them to know. Her speeches, therefore, proceed in the form of interrogatories; but, all on a sudden, an answer is given to a question which had not been asked. Here seems to be a chasm, which I shall attempt to supply by the introduction of a single pronoun, and by distributing the hitherto mutilated line among the three speakers: “3 Witch. There to meet with— “1 Witch. Whom? “2 Witch. Macbeth.” Distinct replies have now been afforded to the three necessary enquiries—When—Where—and Whom the Witches were to meet. Their conference receives no injury from my insertion and arrangement. On the contrary, the dialogue becomes more regular and consistent, as each of the hags will now have spoken thrice (a magical number) before they join in utterance of the concluding words, which relate only to themselves.—I should add that, in the two prior instances, it is also the second Witch who furnishes decisive and material answers; and that I would give the words— “I come, Graymalkin!” to the third. By assistance from such of our author's plays as had been published in quarto, we have often detected more important errors in the folio 1623, which, unluckily, supplies the most ancient copy of Macbeth. Steevens. I have endeavoured to show in the Essay on Shakspeare's versification that this line is not defective, and that neither Mr. Steevens's supplemental whom, nor Mr. Malone's dissyllabical pronunciation of there, is required. Boswell.

Note return to page 9 5&lblank; Graymalkin!] From a little black-letter book, entitled, Beware the Cat, 1584, I find it was permitted to a Witch to take on her a cattes body nine times. Mr. Upton observes, that, to understand this passage, we should suppose one familiar calling with the voice of a cat, and another with the croaking of a toad. Again, in Newes from Scotland, &c. (a pamphlet of which the reader will find the entire title in a future note on this play): “Moreover she confessed, that at the time when his majestie was in Denmarke, shee being accompanied with the parties before specially mentioned, tooke a cat and christened it, and afterward bound to each part of that cat the cheefest part of a dead man, and several joyntes of his bodie, and that in the night following the said cat was convayed into the middest of the sea by all these witches sayling in their riddles or cives as is aforesaid, and so left the said cat right before the towne of Leith in Scotland. This donne, there did arise such a tempest in the sea, as a greater hath not bene seene,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 10 6Paddock calls: &c.] This, with the two following lines, is given in the folio to the three Witches. Some preceding editors have appropriated the first of them to the second Witch. According to the late Dr. Goldsmith, and some other naturalists, a frog is called a paddock in the North: as in the following instance, in Cæsar and Pompey, by Chapman, 1607: “&lblank; Paddockes, todes, and watersnakes.” Again, in Wyntownis Cronykil, b. i. c. xiii. 55: “As ask, or eddyre, tade, or pade.” In Shakspeare, however, it certainly means a toad. The representation of St. James in the witches' house (one of the set of prints taken from the painter called Hellish Breugel, 1566,) exhibits witches flying up and down the chimney on brooms; and before the fire sit grimalkin and paddock, i. e. a cat, and a toad, with several baboons. There is a cauldron boiling, with a witch near it, cutting out the tongue of a snake, as an ingredient for the charm. A representation somewhat similar likewise occurs in Newes from Scotland, &c. a pamphlet already quoted. Steevens. “&lblank; Some say, they [witches] can keepe devils and spirits, in the likeness of todes and cats.” Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft, [1584] book i. c. iv. Tollet.

Note return to page 11 7Fair is foul, and foul is fair:] i. e. we make the sudden changes of the weather. And Macbeth, speaking of this day, soon after says: “So foul and fair a day I have not seen.” Warburton. The common idea of witches has always been, that they had absolute power over the weather, and could raise storms of any kind, or allay them, as they pleased. In conformity to this notion, Macbeth addresses them, in the fourth Act: “Though you untie the winds, &c.” Steevens. I believe the meaning is, that to us, perverse and malignant as we are, fair is foul, and foul is fair. Johnson. This expression seems to have been proverbial. Spenser has it in the 4th book of The Fairy Queen: “Then fair grew foul, and foul grew fair in fight.” Farmer.

Note return to page 12 *First folio, Captain.

Note return to page 13 8This is the sergeant,] Holinshed is the best interpreter of Shakspeare in his historical plays; for he not only takes his facts from him, but often his very words and expressions. That historian, in his account of Macdowald's rebellion, mentions, that on the first appearance of a mutinous spirit among the people, the king sent a sergeant at arms into the country, to bring up the chief offenders to answer the charge preferred against them; but they, instead of obeying, misused the messenger with sundry reproaches, and finally slew him. This sergeant at arms is certainly the origin of the bleeding sergeant introduced on the present occasion. Shakspeare just caught the name from Holinshed, but the rest of the story not suiting his purpose, he does not adhere to it. The stage-direction of entrance, where the bleeding captain is mentioned, was probably the work of the player editors, and not of the poet. Sergeant, however, (as the ingenious compiler of the Glossary to A. of Wyntown's Cronykil observes,) is “a degree in military service now unknown.” “Of sergeandys thare and knychtis kene “He gat a gret cumpany.” B. viii. ch. xxvi. v. 396. The same word occurs again in the fourth Poem of Lawrence Minot, p. 19: “He hasted him to the swin, with sergantes snell, “To mete with the Normandes that fals war and fell.” According to M. le Grand, (says Mr. Ritson) sergeants were a sort of gens d'armes. Steevens.

Note return to page 14 9Doubtfully it stood;] Mr. Pope, who introduced the epithet long, to assist the metre, and reads— “Doubtful long it stood,” has thereby injured the sense. If the comparison was meant to coincide in all circumstances, the struggle could not be long. I read— “Doubtfully it stood;” The old copy has—Doubtfull—so that my addition consists of but a single letter. Steevens. Yet the line but one preceding is left unaltered, though equally defective. Boswell.

Note return to page 15 1&lblank; Macdonwald &lblank;] Thus the old copy. According to Holinshed we should read—Macdowald. Steevens. So also the Scottish Chronicles. However, it is possible that Shakspeare might have preferred the name that has been substituted, as better sounding. It appears from a subsequent scene that he had attentively read Holinshed's account of the murder of King Duff, by Donwald, Lieutenant of the castle of Fores; in consequence of which he might, either from inadvertence, or choice, have here written—Macdonwald. Malone.

Note return to page 16 2&lblank; to that, &c.] i. e. in addition to that. So, in Troilus and Cressida, Act I. Sc. I.: “The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, “Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant.” The soldier who describes Macdonwald, seems to mean, that, ‘in addition to his assumed character of rebel, he abounds, with the numerous enormities to which man, in his natural state, is liable.’ Steevens. To that I should rather explain as meaning ‘to that end: multiplying villanies have fitted him to become a rebel.’ Malone.

Note return to page 17 3&lblank; from the western isles Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied;] Whether supplied of, for supplied from or with, was a kind of Grecism of Shakspeare's expression; or whether of be a corruption of the editors, who took Kernes and Gallowglasses, which were only light and heavy armed foot, to be the names of two of the western islands, I don't know. “Hinc conjecturæ vigorem etiam adjiciunt arma quædam Hibernica, Gallicis antiquis similia, jacula nimirum peditum levis armaturæ quos Kernos vocant, nec non secures et loricæ ferreæ peditum illorum gravioris armaturæ, quos Galloglassios appellant.” Waræi Antiq. Hiber. cap. vi. Warburton. Of and with are indiscriminately used by our ancient writers. So, in The Spanish Tragedy: “Perform'd of pleasure by your son the prince.” Again, in God's Revenge against Murder, hist. vi.: “Sypontus in the mean time is prepared of two wicked gondoliers,” &c. Again, in The History of Helyas Knight of the Sun, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; he was well garnished of spear, sword, and armoure,” &c. These are a few out of a thousand instances which might be brought to the same purpose. Kernes and Gallowglasses are characterized in The Legend of Roger Mortimer. See The Mirror for Magistrates: “&lblank; the Gallowglas, the Kerne, “Yield or not yield, whom so they take, they slay.” See also Stanyhurst's Description of Ireland, ch. viii. fol. 28. Holinshed, edit. 1577. Steevens. The old copy has Gallow-grosses. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. We have the following description of Kernes and Gallowglasses in Barnabie Riche's New Irish Prognostication, p. 37: “The Galloglas succeedeth the Horseman, and hee is commonly armed with a scull, a shirt of maile, and a Galloglas axe: his service in the field, is neither good against horsemen, nor able to endure an encounter of pikes, yet the Irish do make great account of them. The Kerne of Ireland are next in request, the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a generation of villaines not worthy to live: these be they that live by robbing and spoyling the poor countreyman, that maketh him many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want for himself and his poore children. These are they that are ready to run out with everie rebell, and these are the verie hags of hell fit for nothing but for the gallows.” Boswell.

Note return to page 18 4And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,] The old copy has—quarry; but I am inclined to read quarrel. Quarrel was formerly used for cause, or for the occasion of a quarrel, and is to be found in that sense in Holinshed's account of the story of Macbeth, who, upon the creation of the Prince of Cumberland, thought, says the historian, that he had a just quarrel to endeavour after the crown. The sense therefore is, “Fortune smiling on his execrable cause,” &c. Johnson. The word quarrel occurs in Holinshed's relation of this very fact, and may be regarded as a sufficient proof of its having been the term here employed by Shakspeare: “Out of the western isles there came to Macdowald a great multitude of people, to assist him in that rebellious quarrel.” Besides, Macdowald's quarry (i. e. game) must have consisted of Duncan's friends, and would the speaker then have applied the epithet—damned to them? and what have the smiles of fortune to do over a carnage, when we have defeated our enemies? Her business is then at an end. Her smiles or frowns are no longer of any consequence. We only talk of these, while we are pursuing our quarrel, and the event of it is uncertain. The word—quarrel, in the same sense, occurs also in MS. Harl. 4690: “Thanne sir Edward of Bailoll towke his leve off king Edwarde, and went ayenne into Scottelonde, and was so grete a lorde, and so moche had his wille, that he touke no hede to hem that halpe him in his quarelle;” &c. Steevens. The reading proposed by Dr. Johnson, and his explanation of it, are strongly supported by a passage in our author's King John: “&lblank; And put his cause and quarrel “To the disposing of the cardinal.” Again, in this play of Macbeth: “&lblank; and the chance, of goodness, “Be like our warranted quarrel.” Here we have warranted quarrel, the exact opposite of damned quarrel, as the text is now regulated. Lord Bacon, in his Essays, uses the word in the same sense: “Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses; so as a man may have a quarrel to marry, when he will.” Malone. Johnson's emendation is probably right; but it should be recollected that quarry means not only game, but also an arrow, an offensive weapon; we might say without objection, “that Fortune smiled on a warrior's sword.” Boswell.

Note return to page 19 5Show'd like a rebel's whore:] I suppose the meaning is, that fortune, while she smiled on him, deceived him. Shakspeare probably alludes to Macdowald's first successful action, elated by which he attempted to pursue his fortune, but lost his life. Malone.

Note return to page 20 6Like valour's minion, Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave;] The old copy reads— “Like valour's minion, carv'd out his passage “Till he fac'd the slave.” As an hemistich must be admitted, it seems more favourable to the metre that it should be found where it is now left.—“Till he fac'd the slave,” could never be designed as the beginning of a verse, if harmony were at all attended to in its construction. Steevens. “Like valour's minion.” So, in King John: “&lblank; fortune shall cull forth, “Out of one side, her happy minion.” Malone.

Note return to page 21 7And ne'er shook hands, &c.] The old copy reads—“Which nev'r.” “&lblank; shook hands.” So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.” Steevens. Mr. Pope, instead of which, here, and in many other places, reads—who. But there is no need of change. There is scarcely one of our author's plays in which he has not used which for who. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; the old shepherd, which stands by,” &c. Malone. The old reading—“Which never,” appears to indicate that some antecedent words, now irretrievable, were omitted in the playhouse manuscript; unless the compositor's eye had caught which from a foregoing line, and printed it instead of And. Which, in the present instance, cannot well have been substituted for who, because it will refer to the slave Macdonwald, instead of his conqueror Macbeth. Steevens.

Note return to page 22 8&lblank; he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,] We seldom hear of such terrible cross blows given and received but by giants and miscreants in Amadis de Gaule. Besides, it must be a strange aukward stroke that could unrip him upwards from the navel to the chaps. But Shakspeare certainly wrote: “&lblank; he unseam'd him from the nape to the chaps.” i. e. cut his skull in two; which might be done by a Highlander's sword. This was a reasonable blow, and very naturally expressed, on supposing it given when the head of the wearied combatant was reclining downwards at the latter end of a long duel. For the nape is the hinder part of the neck, where the vertebræ join to the bone of the skull. So, in Coriolanus: “O! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks.” The word unseamed likewise becomes very proper, and alludes to the suture which goes cross the crown of the head in that direction called the sutura sagittalis; and which, consequently, must be opened by such a stroke. It is remarkable, that Milton, who in his youth read and imitated our poet much, particularly in his Comus, was misled by this corrupt reading. For in the manuscript of that poem, in Trinity-College library, the following lines are read thus: “Or drag him by the curls, and cleave his scalpe “Down to the hippes.” An evident imitation of this corrupted passage. But he altered it with better judgment to— “&lblank; to a foul death “Curs'd as his life.” Warburton. The old reading is certainly the true one, being justified by a passage in Dido Queene of Carthage, by Thomas Nash, 1594: “Then from the navel to the throat at once “He ript old Priam.” So likewise in an ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng, that is cleped Mayster of Game, cap. v.: “Som men haue sey hym slitte a man fro the kne up to the brest, and slee hym all starke dede at o strok.” Steevens. So, in Shadwell's Libertine: “I will rip you from the navel to the chin.” Boswell.

Note return to page 23 9As whence the sun 'gins his reflexion &lblank;] The thought is expressed with some obscurity, but the plain meaning is this: “As the same quarter, whence the blessing of day-light arises, sometimes sends us, by a dreadful reverse, the calamities of storms and tempests: so the glorious event of Macbeth's victory, which promised us the comforts of peace, was immediately succeeded by the alarming news of the Norweyan invasion.” The natural history of the winds, &c. is foreign to the explanation of this passage. Shakspeare does not mean, in conformity to any theory, to say that storms generally come from the east. If it be allowed that they sometimes issue from that quarter, it is sufficient for the purpose of his comparison. Steevens. The natural history of the winds, &c. was idly introduced on this occasion by Dr. Warburton. Sir William D'Avenant's reading of this passage, in an alteration of this play, published in quarto, in 1674, affords a reasonably good comment upon it: “But then this day-break of our victory “Serv'd but to light us into other dangers, “That spring from whence our hopes did seem to rise.” Malone.

Note return to page 24 1&lblank; thunders break;] The word break is wanting in the oldest copy. The other folios and Rowe read—breaking. Mr. Pope made the emendation. Steevens. Break, which was suggested by the reading of the second folio, is very unlikely to have been the word omitted in the original copy. It agrees with thunders;—but who ever talked of the breaking of a storm?” Malone. The phrase, I believe, is sufficiently common. Thus Dryden, in All for Love, &c. Act I.: “&lblank; the Roman camp “Hangs o'er us black and threat'ning, like a storm “Just breaking o'er our heads.” Again, in Ogilby's version of the 17th Iliad: “Hector o'er all an iron tempest spreads, “Th' impending storm will break upon our heads.” Steevens.

Note return to page 25 2Discomfort swells.] Discomfort, the natural opposite to comfort. Johnson.

Note return to page 26 3Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Sold. Yes;] The reader cannot fail to observe, that some word, necessary to complete the verse, has been omitted in the old copy. Sir T. Hanmer reads— “Our captains, brave Macbeth,” &c. Steevens. The word [as Mr. Douce has observed,] was probably pronounced capitaine in this instance, as it is frequently in Spenser. Boswell.

Note return to page 27 4As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks, &c.] That is, with double charges; a metonymy of the effect for the cause. Heath. Mr. Theobald has endeavoured to improve the sense of this passage, by altering the punctuation thus: “&lblank; they were “As cannons overcharg'd; with double cracks “So they redoubled strokes &lblank;.” He declares, with some degree of exultation, that he has no idea of a “cannon charged with double cracks;” but surely the great author will not gain much by an alteration which makes him say of a hero, that he “redoubles strokes with double cracks,” an expression not more loudly to be applauded, or more easily pardoned, than that which is rejected in its favour. That a “cannon is charged with thunder,” or “with double thunders,” may be written, not only without nonsense, but with elegance, and nothing else is here meant by cracks, which, in the time of this writer, was a word of such emphasis and dignity, that in this play he terms the general dissolution of nature the crack of doom. Johnson. Crack is used on a similar occasion by Barnaby Googe, in his Cupido Conquered, 1563: “The canon's cracke begins to roore   “And darts full thycke they flye, “And cover'd thycke the armyes both,   “And framde a counter-skye.” Barbour, the old Scotch Poet, calls fire-arms—“crakys of war.” Steevens. Again, in the old play of King John, 1591, and applied, as here, to ordnance: “&lblank; as harmless and without effect, “As is the echo of a cannon's crack.” Malone.

Note return to page 28 5Doubly redoubled strokes, &c.] So, in King Richard II.: “And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, “Fall,” &c. The irregularity of the metre, however, induces me to believe our author wrote— “&lblank; they were “As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks, “Doubly redoubling strokes upon the foe.” For this thought, however, Shakspeare might have been indebted to Caxton's Recuyel, &c. “The batayll was sharp, than the grekes dowblid and redowblid their strokes, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 29 6Or memorize another Golgotha.] That is, or make another Golgotha, which should be celebrated and delivered down to posterity, with as frequent mention as the first. Heath. The word memorize, which some suppose to have been coined by Shakspeare, is used by Spenser, in a sonnet to Lord Buckhurst, prefixed to his Pastorals, 1579: “In vaine I thinke, right honourable lord, “By this rude rime to memorize thy name.” T. Warton. The word is likewise used by Drayton; and by Chapman, in his translation of the second book of Homer, 1598: “&lblank; which let thy thoughts be sure to memorize.” Again, in the third Iliad: “&lblank; and Clymene, whom fame “Hath, for her fair eyes, memoriz'd.” And again, in a copy of verses prefixed to Sir Arthur Gorges's translation of Lucan, 1614: “Of them whose acts they mean to memorize.” Steevens.

Note return to page 30 7Enter Rosse.] The old copy—“Enter Rosse and Angus:” but as only the name of Rosse is spoken to, or speaks any thing in the remaining part of this scene, and as Duncan expresses himself in the singular number,— “Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?” Angus may be considered as a superfluous character. Had his present appearance been designed, the King would naturally have taken some notice of him. Steevens. It is clear, from a subsequent passage, that the entry of Angus was here designed; for in Scene III. he again enters with Rosse, and says,— “&lblank; We are sent “To give thee from our royal master thanks.” Malone. Because Rosse and Angus accompany each other in a subsequent scene, does it follow that they make their entrance together on the present occasion? Steevens.

Note return to page 31 8Who comes here?] The latter word is here employed as a dissyllable. Malone. Mr. Malone has already directed us to read there as a dissyllable, but without supporting his direction by one example of such a practice. I suspect that the poet wrote— “Who is't comes here?” or—“But who comes here?” Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 32 9&lblank; So should he look, That seems to speak things strange.] The meaning of this passage, as it now stands, is, “so should he look, that looks as if he told things strange.” But Rosse neither yet told strange things, nor could look as if he told them. Lenox only conjectured from his air that he had strange things to tell, and therefore undoubtedly said: “What a haste looks through his eyes! “So should he look, that teems to speak things strange.” He looks like one that is big with something of importance; a metaphor so natural that it is every day used in common discourse. Johnson. Mr. M. Mason observes, that the meaning of Lenox is, “So should he look, who seems as if he had strange things to speak.” The following passage in The Tempest seems to afford no unapt comment upon this: “&lblank; pr'ythee, say on: “The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim “A matter from thee &lblank;.” Again, in King Richard II.: “Men judge by the complexion of the sky, &c. “So may you, by my dull and heavy eye, “My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.” Steevens. “That seems to speak things strange.” i. e. that seems about to speak strange things. Our author himself furnishes us with the best comment on this passage. In Antony and Cleopatra we meet with nearly the same idea: “The business of this man looks out of him.” Malone.

Note return to page 33 1&lblank; flout the sky,] The banners may be poetically described as waving in mockery or defiance of the sky. So, in King Edward III. 1599: “And new replenish'd pendants cuff the air, “And beat the wind, that for their gaudiness “Struggles to kiss them.” Steevens. Again, in King John: “Mocking the air, with colours idly spread.” This passage has perhaps been misunderstood. The meaning seems to be, not that the Norweyan banners proudly insulted the sky; but that, the standards being taken by Duncan's forces, and fixed in the ground, the colours idly flapped about, serving only to cool the conquerors, instead of being proudly displayed by their former possessors. The line in King John, therefore, is the most perfect comment on this. Malone. The sense of the passage, collectively taken, is this: “Where the triumphant flutter of the Norweyan standards ventilates or cools the soldiers who had been heated through their efforts to secure such numerous trophies of victory.” Steevens. In Marston's Sophonisba, published in 1606, the second scene of the first act bears a great resemblance to the one now before us, and that which precedes it: “Carthelo enters, his sword drawne, his body wounded, his shield strucke full of darts.” He gives an account of a battle between the Carthaginians and Romans, and this passage occurs: “When we the campe that lay at Utica, “From Carthage distant but five easie leagues, “Descride, from of the watch three hundred saile, “Upon whose tops the Roman eagles streach'd “Their large spread winges which fan'd the evening ayre “To us cold breath, for well we might discerne “Rome swam to Carthage.” Boswell.

Note return to page 34 2And fan our people cold.] In all probability, some words that rendered this a complete verse have been omitted; a loss more frequently to be deplored in the present tragedy, than perhaps in any other of Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 35 3Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,] This passage may be added to the many others, which show how little Shakspeare knew of ancient mythology. Henley. Our author might have been influenced by Holinshed, who, p. 567, speaking of King Henry V. says: “He declared that the goddesse of battell, called Bellona,” &c. &c. Shakspeare, therefore, hastily concluded that the Goddess of War was wife to the God of it; or might have been misled by Chapman's version of a line in the fifth Iliad of Homer: “&lblank; Mars himself, match'd with his female mate, “The dread Bellona &lblank;.” Lapp'd in proof, is, defended by armour of proof. Steevens. These criticisms are entirely founded in error. “Bellona's bridegroom,” as Mr. Kemble and Mr. Douce have observed, does not mean the God of War, but Macbeth. So, in the scene quoted above, Marston's Sophonisba: “Scipio advanced like the God of blood, “Leads up grim war.” Boswell.

Note return to page 36 4Confronted him with self-comparisons,] By him, in this verse, is meant Norway; as the plain construction of the English requires. And the assistance the thane of Cawdor had given Norway, was underhand; (which Rosse and Angus, indeed, had discovered, but was unknown to Macbeth;) Cawdor being in the court all this while, as appears from Angus's speech to Macbeth, when he meets him to salute him with the title, and insinuates his crime to be “lining the rebel with hidden help and 'vantage.” “&lblank; with self-comparisons.” i. e. gave him as good as he brought, shew'd he was his equal. Warburton.

Note return to page 37 5That now Sweno, the Norways' king,] The present irregularity of metre induces me to believe that—Sweno was only a marginal reference, injudiciously thrust into the text; and that the line originally stood thus: “That now the Norways' king craves composition.” Could it have been necessary for Rosse to tell Duncan the name of his old enemy, the king of Norway? Steevens.

Note return to page 38 6&lblank; Saint Colmes' inch,] Colmes' is to be considered as a dissyllable. Colmes'-inch, now called Inchcomb, is a small island lying in the Firth of Edinburgh, with an abbey upon it, dedicated to St. Columb; called by Camden Inch Colm, or The Isle of Columba. Some of the modern editors, without authority, read— “Saint Colmes'-kill Isle:” but very erroneously; for Colmes' Inch and Colm-kill, are two different islands; the former lying on the eastern coast, near the place where the Danes were defeated; the latter in the western seas, being the famous Iona, one of the Hebrides. Holinshed thus relates the whole circumstance: “The Danes that escaped, and got once to their ships, obteined of Makbeth for a great summe of gold, that such of their friends as were slaine, might be buried in Saint Colmes' Inch. In memorie whereof many old sepultures are yet in the said Inch, there to be seene graven with the armes of the Danes.” Inch, or Inshe, in the Irish and Erse languages, signifies an island. See Lhuyd's Archæologia. Steevens.

Note return to page 39 7&lblank; pronounce his death,] The old copy, injuriously to metre, reads— “&lblank; pronounce his present death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 40 8Killing swine.] So, in A Detection of Damnable Driftes practized by Three Witches, &c. Arraigned at Chelmisforde in Essex, 1579, bl. l. 12mo: “&lblank; Item, also she came on a tyme to the house of one Robert Lathburie &c. who dislyking her dealyng, sent her home emptie; but presently after her departure, his hogges fell sicke and died, to the number of twentie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 41 91 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 2 Witch. Killing swine. 3 Witch. Sister, where thou?] Thus the old copy; yet I cannot help supposing that these three speeches, collectively taken, were meant to form one verse, as follows: “1 Witch. Where hast been, sister? “2 Witch. Killing swine. “3 Witch. Where thou?” If my supposition be well founded, there is as little reason for preserving the useless thou in the first line, as the repetition of sister, in the third. Steevens.

Note return to page 42 1Aroint thee, witch!] Aroint, or avaunt, be gone. Pope. In one of the folio editions the reading is—“Anoint thee,” in a sense very consistent with the common account of witches, who are related to perform many supernatural acts, by the means of unguents, and particularly to fly through the air to the places where they meet at their hellish festivals. In this sense, “anoint thee, witch,” will mean, “away, witch, to your infernal assembly.” This reading I was inclined to favour, because I had met with the word aroint in no other author; till looking into Hearne's Collections, I found it in a very old drawing, that he has published* [Subnote: *See Ectypa Varia, &c. Studio et cura Thomæ Hearne, &c. 1737. Steevens.] , in which St. Patrick is represented visiting hell, and putting the devils into great confusion by his presence, of whom one, that is driving the damned before him with a prong, has a label issuing out of his mouth with these words, “out out Arongt,” of which the last is evidently the same with aroint, and used in the same sense as in this passage. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's memory, on the present occasion, appears to have deceived him in more than a single instance. The subject of the above-mentioned drawing is ascertained by a label affixed to it in Gothick letters. “Iesus Christus, resurgens a mortuis spoliat infernum.” My predecessor, indeed, might have been misled by an uncouth abbreviation in the Sacred Name. The words—“Out out arongt,” are addressed to our Redeemer by Satan, who, the better to enforce them, accompanies them with a blast of the horn he holds in his right hand. “Tartareum intendit cornu.” If the instrument he grasps in his left hand was meant for a prong, it is of singular make. Ecce signum. Satan is not “driving the damned before him;” nor is any other dæmon present to undertake that office. Redemption, not punishment, is the subject of the piece. This story of Christ's exploit, in his descensus ad inferos, (as Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed in a note on Chaucer, 3512,) is taken from the Gospel of Nicodemus, and was called by our ancestors the harrowinge of helle, under which title it was represented among the Chester Whitsun Playes, MS. Harl. 2013. Rynt you, witch! quoth Besse Locket to her mother,” is a north country proverb. The word is used again in King Lear: “And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee.” Anoint is the reading of the folio, 1664, a book of no authority. Steevens. It has been ingeniously suggested, (originally, as I understand, by Mr. Perry, of the Morning Chronicle,) that “aroynt ye, witch,” may be a corruption for a rowan tree, i. e. the mountain ash, which is said to be considered in Scotland to this day as a preservative against witchcraft. My friend Mr. Talbot has pointed out to me a passage in Evelyn's Sylva, which shows that the same superstition prevailed in Wales: “This tree is so sacred (scil. in Wales), that there is not a churchyard without one of them planted in it (as, among us, the yew); so, on a certain day in every year, every body religiously wears a cross made of the wood; and the tree is by some authors called Fraxinus Cambro-Britannica, reputed to be a preservative against fascinations and evil spirits; whence, perhaps, we called it witchen.” Millar, adds Mr. Talbot, gives this account of it: “In Scotland, and the North of England, it is called roan tree, and the name is variously spelt rowen, radden, and rantry.” The sailor's wife, being in possession of this charm, is safe; and therefore the witch wreaks her vengeance upon her husband, who has no such talisman to protect him. If the phrase Aroynt ye, had occurred but once, we might be disposed to adopt this explanation; but it is not likely that the same mistake should have occurred twice, supported as the text is by the Cheshire proverb. If we were even to suppose that a rowan tree was the origin of the phrase, it is probable that Shakspeare adopted the corruption as he found it; as he has done handsaw, for hernshaw, in Hamlet. Boswell. There is no doubt that aroint signifies away! run! and that it is of Saxon origin. The original Saxon verb has not been preserved in any other way; but the glossaries supply ryne for running; and, in the old Islandic, runka signifies to agitate, to move. Douce.

Note return to page 43 2&lblank; the rump-fed ronyon &lblank;] The chief cooks in noblemen's families, colleges, religious houses, hospitals, &c. anciently claimed the emoluments or kitchen fees of kidneys, fat, trotters, rumps, &c. which they sold to the poor. The weird sister in this scene, as an insult on the poverty of the woman who had called her witch, reproaches her poor abject state, as not being able to procure better provision than offals, which are considered as the refuse of the tables of others. Colepeper. So, in The Ordinance for the Government of Prince Edward, 1474, the following fees are allowed: “mutton's heads, the rumpes of every beefe,” &c. Again, in The Ordinances of the Household of George Duke of Clarence: “&lblank; the hinder shankes of the mutton, with the rumpe, to be feable.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Staple of News, old Penny-boy says to the Cook: “And then remember meat for my two dogs; “Fat flaps of mutton, kidneys, rumps,” &c. Again, in Wit at Several Weapons, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “A niggard to your commons, that you're fain “To size your belly out with shoulder fees, “With kidneys, rumps, and cues of single beer.” In The Book of Haukynge, &c. (commonly called The Book of St. Albans) bl. l. no date, among the proper terms used in kepyng of haukes, it is said: “The hauke tyreth upon rumps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 44 3&lblank; ronyon cries.] i. e. scabby or mangy woman. Fr. rogneux, royne, scurf. Thus Chaucer, in The Romaunt of the Rose, p. 551: “&lblank; her necke   “Withouten bleine, or scabbe, or roine.” Shakspeare uses the substantive again in The Merry Wives of Windsor, and the adjective—roynish, in As You Like It. Steevens.

Note return to page 45 4&lblank; in a sieve I'll thither sail,] Reginald Scott, in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, says it was believed that witches “could sail in an egg shell, a cockle or muscle shell, through and under the tempestuous seas.” Again, says Sir W. D'Avenant, in his Albovine, 1629: “He sits like a witch sailing in a sieve.” Again, in Newes from Scotland: Declaring the damnable Life of Doctor Fian a notable Sorcerer, who was burned at Edenbrough in Januarie last, 1591; which Doctor was Register to the Devill, that sundrie Times preached at North Baricke Kirke, to a Number of notorious Witches. With the true Examinations of the said Doctor and Witches, as they uttered them in the Presence of the Scottish King. Discovering how they pretended to bewitch and drowne his Majestie in the Sea comming from Denmarke, with other such wonderful Matters as the like hath not bin heard at anie Time. Published according to the Scottish Copie. Printed for William Wright: “&lblank; and that all they together went to sea, each one in a riddle or cive, and went in the same very substantially with flaggons of wine, making merrie and drinking by the way in the same riddles or cives,” &c. Dr. Farmer found the title of this scarce pamphlet in an interleaved copy of Maunsell's Catalogue, &c. 1595, with additions by Archbishop Harsenet and Thomas Baker the Antiquarian. It is almost needless to mention that I have since met with the pamphlet itself. Steevens.

Note return to page 46 5And, like a rat without a tail,] It should be remembered, (as it was the belief of the times,) that though a witch could assume the form of any animal she pleased, the tail would still be wanting. The reason given by some of the old writers, for such a deficiency, is, that though the hands and feet, by an easy change, might be converted into the four paws of a beast, there was still no part about a woman which corresponded with the length of tail common to almost all our four-footed creatures. Steevens.

Note return to page 47 6I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.— I' the shipman's card.— Look what I have.— Show me, show me.— Thus do go about, about; &lblank;] As I cannot help supposing this scene to have been uniformly metrical when our author wrote it, in its present state I suspect it to be clogged with interpolations, or mutilated by omissions. Want of corresponding rhymes to the foregoing lines, induce me to hint at vacuities which cannot be supplied, and intrusions which (on the bare authority of conjecture) must not be expelled. Were even the condition of modern transcripts for the stage understood by the public, the frequent accidents by which a poet's meaning is depraved, and his measure vitiated, would need no illustration. Steevens.

Note return to page 48 7I'll give thee a wind.] This free gift of a wind is to be considered as an act of sisterly friendship, for witches were supposed to sell them. So, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “&lblank; in Ireland and in Denmark both, “Witches for gold will sell a man a wind, “Which in the corner of a napkin wrap'd, “Shall blow him safe unto what coast he will.” Drayton, in his Mooncalf, says the same. It may be hoped, however, that the conduct of our witches did not resemble that of one of their relations, as described in an Appendix to the old translation of Marco Paolo, 1579: “&lblank; they demanded that he should give them a winde; and he shewed, setting his handes behinde, from whence the wind should come,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 49 8And the very ports they blow,] As the word very is here of no other use than to fill up the verse, it is likely that Shakspeare wrote various, which might be easily mistaken for very, being either negligently read, hastily pronounced, or imperfectly heard. Johnson. The very ports are the exact ports. Very is used here (as in a thousand instances which might be brought) to express the declaration more emphatically. Instead of ports, however, I had formerly read points; but erroneously. In ancient language, to blow sometimes means to blow upon. So, in Dumain's Ode in Love's Labour's Lost: “Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow &lblank;.” i. e. blow upon them. We still say, it blows East, or West, without a preposition Steevens. The substituted word was first given by Sir W. D'Avenant, who, in his alteration of this play, has retained the old, while at the same time he furnished Mr. Pope with the new reading: “I myself have all the other. “And then from every port they blow, “From all the points that seamen know.” Malone.

Note return to page 50 9&lblank; the shipman's card] So, in The Microcosmos of John Davies, of Hereford, 4to. 1605: “Beside the chiefe windes and collaterall “(Which are the windes indeed of chiefe regard) “Seamen observe more, thirtie two in all, “All which are pointed out upon the carde.” The card is the paper on which the winds are marked under the pilot's needle; or perhaps the sea-chart, so called in our author's age. Thus, in The Loyal Subject, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “The card of goodness in your minds, that shews you “When you sail false.” Again, in Churchyard's Prayse and Reporte of Maister Martyne Forboisher's Voyage to Meta Incognita, &c. 12mo. bl. l. 1578: “There the generall gaue a speciall card and order to his captaines for the passing of the straites,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 51 1&lblank; dry as hay:] So, Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. ix.: “But he is old and withered as hay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 52 2Sleep shall, neither night nor day, Hang upon his pent-house lid;] So, in Decker's Gul's Horne-booke: “The two eyes are the glasse windowes, at which light disperses itselfe into every roome, having goodly pent-houses of haire to overshaddow them.” So, also in David and Goliah, by Michael Drayton: “His brows, like two steep pent-houses, hung down “Over his eye-lids.” This poem is inserted in a Collection which Drayton entitles The Muses Elysium, which being dedicated to Edward Earl of Dorset, “Knight of the most noble order of the Garter,” must have been published after 1625, that nobleman having been then invested with the order of the garter. I do not know of any earlier edition of the piece entitled David and Goliah; but another poem which appears in this collection, Moses his Birth and Miracles, had been published originally in 4to. in 1604, under the title of Moyses in A Map of his Miracles. Malone.

Note return to page 53 3He shall live a man forbid:] i. e. as one under a curse, an interdiction. So, afterwards in this play: “By his own interdiction stands accurs'd.” So, among the Romans, an outlaw's sentence was, “Aquæ et ignis interdictio;” i. e. he was forbid the use of water and fire, which implied the necessity of banishment. Theobald. Mr. Theobald has very justly explained forbid by accursed, but without giving any reason of his interpretation. To bid is originally to pray, as in this Saxon fragment:   He is wis þæt bit & bote, &c. “He is wise that prays and makes amends.” As to forbid therefore implies to prohibit, in opposition to the word bid in its present sense, it signifies by the same kind of opposition to curse, when it is derived from the same word in its primitive meaning. Johnson. To bid, in the sense of to pray, occurs in the ancient MS. romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 78: “Kinge Charles kneled adown “To kisse the relikes so goode, “And badde there an oryson “To that lorde that deyde on rode.” A forbodin fellow, Scot. signifies an unhappy one. Steevens. It may be added, that “bitten and Verbieten, in the German, signify to pray and to interdict.” S. W.

Note return to page 54 4Shall he dwindle, &c.] This mischief was supposed to be put in execution by means of a waxen figure, which represented the person who was to be consumed by slow degrees. So, in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “&lblank; it wastes me more “Than wer't my picture fashion'd out of wax, “Stuck with a magick needle, and then buried “In some foul dunghill.” So Holinshed, speaking of the witchcraft practised to destroy King Duffe: “&lblank; found one of the witches roasting upon a wooden broch an image of wax at the fire, resembling in each feature the king's person, &c. “&lblank; for as the image did waste afore the fire, so did the bodie of the king break forth in sweat. And as for the words of the inchantment, they served to keep him still waking from sleepe,” &c. This may serve to explain the foregoing passage: “Sleep shall, neither night nor day, “Hang upon his pent-house lid.” See vol. iv. p. 55. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 5Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.] So, in Newes from Scotland, &c. a pamphlet already quoted: “Againe it is confessed, that the said christened cat was the cause of the Kinges Majesties shippe, at his coming forthe of Denmarke, had a contrarie winde to the rest of his shippes then being in his companie, which thing was most straunge and true, as the Kinges Majestie acknowledgeth, for when the rest of the shippes had a faire and good winde, then was the winde contrarie and altogether against his Majestie. And further the sayde witch declared, that his Majestie had never come safely from the sea, if his faith had not prevayled above their ententions.” To this circumstance perhaps our author's allusion is sufficiently plain. Steevens.

Note return to page 56 6The weird sisters, hand in hand,] These weird sisters were the Fates of the northern nations; the three handmaids of Odin. “Hæ nominantur Valkyriæ, quas quodvis ad prælium Odinus mittit. Hæ viros morti destinant, et victoriam gubernant. Gunna, et Rota, et Parcarum minima Skullda: per aëra et maria equitant semper ad morituros eligendos; et cædes in potestate habent.” Bartholinus de Causis contemptæ à Danis adhuc Gentilibus mortis. It is for this reason that Shakspeare makes them three; and calls them, “Posters of the sea and land:” and intent only upon death and mischief. However, to give this part of his work the more dignity, he intermixes, with this Northern, the Greek and Roman superstitions; and puts Hecate at the head of their enchantments. And to make it still more familiar to the common audience (which was always his point) he adds, for another ingredient, a sufficient quantity of our own country superstitions concerning witches; their beards, their cats, and their broomsticks. So that his witch-scenes are like the charm they prepare in one of them; where the ingredients are gathered from every thing shocking in the natural world, as here, from every thing absurd in the moral. But as extravagant as all this is, the play has had the power to charm and bewitch every audience, from that time to this. Warburton. Weird comes from the Anglo-Saxon &wynn;yrd, fatum, and is used as a substantive signifying a prophecy by the translator of Hector Boethius, in the year 1541, as well as for the Destinies, by Chaucer and Holinshed. “Of the weirdis gevyn to Makbeth and Banqhuo,” is the argument of one of the chapters. Gawin Douglas, in his translation of Virgil, calls the Parcæ, the weird sisters; and in Ane verie excellent and delectabill Treatise intitulit Philotus, quhairin we may persave the greit Inconveniences that fallis out in the Mariage betweene Age and Zouth, Edinburgh, 1603, the word appears again: “How does the quheill of fortune go, “Quhat wickit wierd has wrocht our wo.” Again: “Quhat neidis Philotus to think ill,   “Or zit his wierd to warie?” The other method of spelling [weyward] was merely a blunder of the transcriber or printer. The Valkyriæ, or Valkyriur, were not barely three in number. The learned critic might have found, in Bartholinus, not only Gunna, Rota, et Skullda, but also, Scogula, Hilda, Gondula, and Geiroscogula. Bartholinus adds, that their number is yet greater, according to other writers who speak of them. They were the cupbearers of Odin, and conductors of the dead. They were distinguished by the elegance of their forms; and it would be as just to compare youth and beauty with age and deformity, as the Valkyriæ of the North with the Witches of Shakspeare. Steevens. The old copy has—weyward, probably in consequence of the transcriber's being deceived by his ear. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. The following passage in Bellenden's translation of Hector Boethius, fully supports the emendation: “Be aventure Makbeth and Banquho were passand to Fores, quhair kyng Duncane hapnit to be for ye tyme, and met be ye gait thre women clothit in elrage and uncouth weid. They wer jugit be the pepill to be weird sisters.” So also Holinshed. Malone.

Note return to page 57 7How far is't call'd to Fores?] The king at this time resided at Fores, a town in Murray, not far from Inverness. “It fortuned, (says Holinshed) as Macbeth and Banquo journeyed towards Fores, where the king then lay, they went sporting by the way, without other company, save only themselves, when suddenly in the midst of a laund there met them three women in straunge and ferly apparell, resembling creatures of an elder world,” &c. Steevens. The old copy reads—Soris. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 58 8That man may question?] Are ye any beings with which man is permitted to hold converse, or of whom it is lawful to ask questions. Johnson.

Note return to page 59 9&lblank; You should be women,] In Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devill, 1592, there is an enumeration of spirits and their offices; and of certain watry spirits it is said: “&lblank; by the help of Alynach a spirit of the West, they will raise stormes, cause earthquakes, rayne, haile or snow, in the clearest day that is; and if ever they appear to anie man, they come in women's apparell.” Henderson.

Note return to page 60 1&lblank; your beards &lblank;] Witches were supposed always to have hair on their chins. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635; “&lblank; Some women have beards, marry they are half witches.” Steevens.

Note return to page 61 2All hail, Macbeth!] It hath lately been repeated from Mr. Guthrie's Essay upon English Tragedy, that the portrait of Macbeth's wife is copied from Buchanan, “whose spirit, as well as words, is translated into the play of Shakspeare: and it had signifyed nothing to have pored only on Holinshed for facts.”— “Animus etiam, per se ferox, prope quotidianis conviciis uxoris (quæ omnium consiliorum ei erat conscia) stimulabatur.”—This is the whole that Buchanan says of the Lady, and truly I see no more spirit in the Scotch, than in the English chronicler. “The wordes of the three weird sisters also greatly encouraged him [to the murder of Duncan,] but specially his wife lay sore upon him to attempt the thing, as she that was very ambitious, brenning in unquenchable desire to beare the name of a queene.” Edit. 1577, p. 244. This part of Holinshed is an abridgement of Johne Bellenden's translation of the Noble Clerk, Hector Boece, imprinted at Edinburgh, in fol. 1541. I will give the passage as it is found there. “His wyfe impacient of lang tary (as all wemen ar) specially quhare they are desirus of ony purpos, gaif hym gret artation to persew the third weird, that sche micht be ane quene, calland hym oft tymis febyl cowart and nocht desyrus of honouris, sen he durst not assailze the thing with manheid and curage, quhilk is offerit to hym be beniuolence of fortoun. Howbeit sindry otheris hes assailzeit sic thinges afore with maist terribyl jeopardyis, quhen they had not sic sickernes to succeid in the end of thair laubouris as he had:” p. 173. But we can demonstrate, that Shakspeare had not the story from Buchanan. According to him, the weird sisters salute Macbeth: “Una Angusiæ Thanum, altera Moraviæ, tertia Regem.”— Thane of Angus, and of Murray, &c. but according to Holinshed, immediately from Bellenden, as it stands in Shakspeare: “The first of them spake and sayde, All hayle Makbeth Thane of Glammis,—the second of them sayde, Hayle Makbeth Thane of Cawder; but the third sayde, All hayle Makbeth, that hereafter shall be King of Scotland:” p. 243. “1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Glamis! “2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! “3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!” Here too our poet found the equivocal predictions, on which his hero so fatally depended: “He had learned of certaine wysards, how that he ought to take heede of Macduffe:— and surely hereupon had he put Macduffe to death, but a certaine witch, whom he had in great trust, had tolde, that he should neuer be slain with man borne of any woman, nor vanquished till the wood of Bernane came to the castell of Dunsinane:” p. 244. And the scene between Malcolm and Macduff, in the fourth Act, is almost literally taken from the Chronicle. Farmer. “All hail, Macbeth!” All hail is a corruption of al-hael, Saxon, i. e. ave, salve. Malone.

Note return to page 62 3&lblank; thane of Glamis!] The thaneship of Glamis was the ancient inheritance of Macbeth's family. The castle where they lived is still standing, and was lately the magnificent residence of the Earl of Strathmore. See a particular description of it in Mr. Gray's letter to Dr. Wharton, dated from Glames Castle. Steevens.

Note return to page 63 4&lblank; thane of Cawdor!] Dr. Johnson observes, in his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, that part of Calder Castle, from which Macbeth drew his second title, is still remaining. In one of his Letters, vol. i. p. 122, he takes notice of the same object: “There is one ancient tower with its battlements and winding stairs—the rest of the house is, though not modern, of later erection.” Steevens.

Note return to page 64 5Are ye fantastical,] By fantastical is not meant, according to the common signification, creatures of his own brain; for he could not be so extravagant to ask such a question: but it is used for supernatural, spiritual. Warburton. By fantastical he means creatures of fantasy or imagination: the question is, ‘Are these real beings before us, or are we deceived by illusions of fancy!’ Johnson. So, in Reginald Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584:—“He affirmeth these transubstantiations to be but fantastical, not according to the veritie, but according to the appearance.” The same expression occurs in All's Lost by Lust, 1633, by Rowley: “&lblank; or is that thing, “Which would supply the place of soul in thee, “Merely phantastical?” Shakspeare, however, took the word from Holinshed, who in his account of the witches, says: “This was reputed at first but some vain fantastical illusion by Macbeth and Banquo.” Steevens. The word occurs afterwards in this play: “My thought, whose murder's but fantastical.” So, in Massinger's Maid of Honour: “&lblank; How he stares, and feels his legs, “As yet uncertain whether it can be “True or fantastical.” Boswell.

Note return to page 65 6Of noble having,] Having is estate, possession, fortune. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; my having is not much; “I'll make division of my present store: “Hold; there is half my coffer.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Bevys of Hampton, bl. l. no date: “And when he heareth this tydinge, “He will go theder with great having.” See also note on The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 66 7That he seems rapt withal;] Rapt is rapturously affected, extra se raplus. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, iv. ix. 6: “That, with the sweetness of her rare delight, “The prince half rapt, began on her to dote.” Again, in Cymbeline: “What, dear sir, thus raps you?” Steevens.

Note return to page 67 8By Sinel's death,] The father of Macbeth. Pope. His true name, which however appears, but perhaps only typographically, corrupted to Synele in Hector Boethius, from whom, by means of his old Scottish translator, it came to the knowledge of Holinshed, was Finleg. Both Finlay and Macbeath are common surnames in Scotland at this moment. Ritson. Synele for Finleg, seems a very extraordinary typographical corruption. The late Dr. Beattie conjectured that the real name of the family was Sinane, and that Dunsinane, or the hill of Sinane, from thence derived its appellation. Boswell.

Note return to page 68 9&lblank; blasted heath &lblank;] Thus, after Shakspeare, Milton, Paradise Lost, b. i. 615: “&lblank; their stately growth though bare “Stands on the blasted heath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 69 1&lblank; eaten of the insane root,] The insane root is the root which makes insane. Theobald. The old copies read—“on the insane root.” Reed. Shakspeare alludes to the qualities anciently ascribed to hemlock. So, in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “You gaz'd against the sun, and so blemished your sight; or else you have eaten of the roots of hemlock, that makes men's eyes conceit unseen objects.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Sejanus: “&lblank; they lay that hold upon thy senses, “As thou hadst snuft up hemlock.” Steevens. This quality was anciently attributed to other roots, besides hemlock. In Buchanan's History of Scotland, b. vii. Duncan King of Scotland destroys the invading army of Sueno King of Norway, by sending him provisions steeped in nightshade, solanum somniferum, which is fully described, and this property mentioned: “Vis fructui, radici, ac maximè semini somnifera, et quæ in amentiam si largius sumantur agat.” Shakspeare may have also recollected a passage in North's translation of Plutarch. In the Life of Antony, (which our author must have diligently read,) the Roman soldiers, while employed in the Parthian war, are said to have suffered great distress for want of provisions. “In the ende (says Plutarch) they were compelled to live of herbs and rootes, but they found few of them that men do commonly eate of, and were enforced to taste of them that were never eaten before; among the which there was one that killed them, and made them out of their wits; for he that had once eaten of it, his memorye was gone from him, and he knew no manner of thing, but only busied himself in digging and hurling of stones from one place to another, as though it had been a matter of great waight, and to be done with all possible speede.” Malone. There is another book which has been shown to have been also read, and even studied, by the poet, and wherein, it is presumed, he actually found the name of the above root. This will appear from the following passage: “Henbane .... is called Insana, mad, for the use thereof is perillous; for if it be eate or dronke, it breedeth madnesse, or slow lykenesse of sleepe. Therefore this hearb is called commonly Mirilidium, for it taketh away wit and reason.” Batman Uppon Bartholome de propriet. rerum, lib. xvii. ch. 87. Douce.

Note return to page 70 2His wonders and his praises do contend, Which should be thine, or his, &c.] i. e. private admiration of your deeds, and a desire to do them public justice by commendation, contend in his mind for pre-eminence,—Or,—There is a contest in his mind whether he should indulge his desire of publishing to the world the commendations due to your heroism, or whether he should remain in silent admiration of what no words could celebrate in proportion to its desert. Mr. M. Mason would read wonder, not wonders; for, says he, “I believe the word wonder, in the sense of admiration, has no plural.” In modern language it certainly has none; yet I cannot help thinking that, in the present instance, plural was opposed to plural by Shakspeare. Steevens. “Silenc'd with that.” i. e. wrapp'd in silent wonder at the deeds performed by Macbeth, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 71 3&lblank; As thick as tale,] Meaning, that the news came as thick as a tale can travel with the post. Or we may read, perhaps, yet better: “&lblank; As thick as tale, “Came post with post &lblank;.” That is, posts arrived as fast as they could be counted. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act II. Sc. I.: “Tidings, as swiftly as the post could run, “Were brought,” &c. Mr. Rowe reads—“as thick as hail. Steevens. The old copy reads—Can post. The emendation is Mr. Rowe's. Dr. Johnson's explanation would be less exceptionable, if the old copy had—‘As quick as tale.” Thick applies but ill to tale, and seems rather to favour Mr. Rowe's emendation. “As thick as hail,” as an anonymous correspondent observes to me, is an expression in the old play of King John, 1591: “&lblank; breathe out damned orisons, “As thick as hail-stones 'fore the spring's approach.” The emendation of the word can is supported by a passage in King Henry IV. Part II.: “And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, “Come from the north.” Malone. Dr. Johnson's explanation is perfectly justifiable. As thick, in ancient language, signified as fast. To speak thick, in our author, does not therefore mean, to have a cloudy indistinct utterance, but to deliver words with rapidity. So, in Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. II.: “&lblank; say, and speak thick, “(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing “To the smothering of the sense) how far it is “To this same blessed Milford.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. III.: “And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, “Became the accents of the valiant; “For those that could speak low and tardily, “Would turn, &c.—To seem like him.” Thick therefore is not less applicable to tale, the old reading, than to hail, the alteration of Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 72 4To herald thee, &c.] The old copy redundantly reads—Only to herald thee, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 73 5&lblank; with Norway;] The old copy reads: “&lblank; with those of Norway.” The players not understanding that by “Norway” our author meant the King of Norway, as in Hamlet— “Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,” &c. foisted in the words at present omitted. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “&lblank; Whether he was “Combin'd with Norway, or,” &c. The old copy thus exhibits these lines: “&lblank; Which he deserves to loose, “Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, “Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe “And vantage; or that with both he labour'd “In his countrey's wracke, I know not.” Boswell.

Note return to page 74 6&lblank; trusted home,] i. e. entirely, thoroughly relied on. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; lack'd the sense to know “Her estimation home.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; I will pay thy graces “Home, both in word and deed.” Steevens. The added word home inclines me to think that our author wrote—“That thrusted home. So, in a subsequent scene: “That every minute of his being thrusts “Against my nearest of life.” Thrusted is the regular participle from the verb to thrust, and though now not often used, was, I believe, common in the time of Shakspeare. So, in King Henry V.: “With casted slough and fresh legerity.” Home means to the uttermost. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; all my sorrows “You have paid home.” It may be observed, that “thrusted home” is an expression used at this day; but I doubt whether “trusted home,” was ever used at any period whatsoever. I have had frequent occasion to remark that many of the errors in the old copies of our author's plays arose from the transcriber's ear having deceived him. In Ireland, where much of the pronunciation of the age of Queen Elizabeth is yet retained, the vulgar constantly pronounce the word thrust as if it were written trust; and hence, probably, the error in the text. Malone. Trusted home, may as well be said as felt home. In Comus, we have the adjective home-felt with this meaning: “Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, “And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself; “But such a sacred and home-felt delight, “Such sober certainty of waking bliss “I never heard till now.” Boswell.

Note return to page 75 7Might yet enkindle you &lblank;] Enkindle, for to stimulate you to seek. Warburton. A similar expression occurs in As You Like It, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither.” Steevens. Might fire you with the hope of obtaining the crown. Henley.

Note return to page 76 8Two truths are told, &c.] How the former of these truths has been fulfilled, we are yet to learn. Macbeth could not become Thane of Glamis, till after his father's decease, of which there is no mention throughout the play. If the Hag only announced what Macbeth already understood to have happened, her words could scarcely claim rank as a prediction. Steevens. From the Scottish translation of Boethius it should seem that Sinel, the father of Macbeth, died after Macbeth's having been met by the weird sisters. “Makbeth (says the historian) revolvyng all thingis, as they wer said to be the weird sisteris, began to covat ye croun. And zit he concludit to abide, quhil he saw ye tyme ganand thereto; fermelie belevyng yt ye third weird suld cum as the first two did afore.” This, indeed, is inconsistent with our author's words, “By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis;” —but Holinshed, who was his guide, in his abridgment of the History of Boethius, has particularly mentioned that Sinel died before Macbeth met the weird sisters: we may, therefore, be sure that Shakspeare meant it to be understood that Macbeth had already acceded to his paternal title. Bellenden only says, “The first of them said to Macbeth, Hale thane of Glammis. The secound said,” &c. But in Holinshed the relation runs thus, conformably to the Latin original: “The first of them spake and said, All haile Mackbeth, thane of Glammis (for he had latelie entered into that dignitie and office by the death of his father Sinell.) The second of them said,” &c. Still, however, the objection made by Mr. Steevens remains in its full force; for since he knew that “by Sinel's death he was thane of Glamis,” how can this salutation be considered as prophetic? Or why should he afterwards say, with admiration, “Glamis, and thane of Cawdor;” &c.? Perhaps we may suppose that the father of Macbeth died so recently before his interview with the weirds, that the news of it had not yet got abroad; in which case, though Macbeth himself knew it, he might consider their giving him the title of Thane of Glamis as a proof of supernatural intelligence. I suspect our author was led to use the expressions which have occasioned the present note, by the following words of Holinshed: “The same night after, at supper, Banquo jested with him, and said, Now Mackbeth, thou hast obteined those things which the two former sisters prophesied: there remaineth onelie for thee to purchase that which the third said should come to passe.” Malone. I can see no ground for Mr. Steevens's objection. Macbeth has not called them prophecies, but truths—“They called me Thane of Glamis; that, I knew to be true.—They called me Thane of Cawdor; that, I have now found to be true: I may therefore confide in their prophecy that I shall be King hereafter.” Boswell.

Note return to page 77 9&lblank; swelling act] Swelling is used in the same sense in the prologue to King Henry V.: “&lblank; princes to act, “And monarchs to behold the swelling scene.” Steevens.

Note return to page 78 1This supernatural soliciting &lblank;] Soliciting, for information. Warburton. Soliciting is rather, in my opinion, incitement, than information. Johnson.

Note return to page 79 2&lblank; suggestion &lblank;] i. e. temptation. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “A filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.” Steevens.

Note return to page 80 3Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,] So Macbeth says, in the latter part of this play: “&lblank; And my fell of hair “Would, at a dismal treatise, rouse and stir, “As life were in it.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 81 4&lblank; seated &lblank;] i. e. fixed, firmly placed. So, in Milton's Paradise Lost, b. vi. 643: “From their foundations loos'ning to and fro “They pluck'd the seated hills.” Steevens.

Note return to page 82 5&lblank; Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings:] Present fears are fears of things present, which Macbeth declares, and every man has found, to be less than the imagination presents them while the objects are yet distant. Johnson. Thus, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.” Again, in The Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604, by Lord Sterline: “For as the shadow seems more monstrous still, “Than doth the substance whence it hath the being, “So th' apprehension of approaching ill “Seems greater than itself, whilst fears are lying.” Steevens. By present fears is meant, the actual presence of any objects of terror. So, in The Second Part of King Henry IV. the King says: “&lblank; All these bold fears “Thou see'st with peril I have answered.” To fear is frequently used by Shakspeare in the sense of fright. In this very play, Lady Macbeth says— “To alter favour ever is to fear.” So, in Fletcher's Pilgrim, Curio says to Alphonso: “Mercy upon me, Sir, why are you feared thus?” Meaning, thus affrighted. M. Mason.

Note return to page 83 5&lblank; single state of man,] The single state of man seems to be used by Shakspeare for an individual, in opposition to a commonwealth, or conjunct body. Johnson. By single state of man, Shakspeare might possibly mean somewhat more than individuality. He who, in the peculiar situation of Macbeth, is meditating a murder, dares not communicate his thoughts, and consequently derives neither spirit, nor advantage, from the countenance, or sagacity of others. This state of man may properly be styled single, solitary, or defenceless, as it excludes the benefits of participation, and has no resources but in itself. It should be observed, however, that double and single anciently signified strong and weak, when applied to liquors, and perhaps to other objects. In this sense the former word may be employed by Brabantio: “&lblank; a voice potential, “As double as the duke's;” And the latter, by the Chief Justice, speaking to Falstaff: “Is not your wit single?” The single state of Macbeth may therefore signify his weak and debile state of mind. Steevens. So, in Jonson's Every Man Out of his Humour: “But he might have altered the shape of his argument, and explicated them better in single scenes—That had been single indeed.” Boswell.

Note return to page 84 6&lblank; function Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is, But what is not.] All powers of action are oppressed and crushed by one overwhelming image in the mind, and nothing is present to me but that which is really future. Of things now about me I have no perception, being intent wholly on that which has yet no existence. Johnson. Surmise, is speculation, conjecture concerning the future. Malone. Shakspeare has somewhat like this sentiment in The Merchant of Venice: “Where, every something being blent together, “Turns to a wild of nothing &lblank;.” Again, in Richard II.: “&lblank; is nought but shadows “Of what it is not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 85 7Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.] “By this, I confess I do not, with his two last commentators, imagine is meant either the tautology of time and the hour, or an allusion to time painted with an hour-glass, or an exhortation to time to hasten forward, but rather to say tempus et hora, time and occasion, will carry the thing through, and bring it to some determined point and end, let its nature be what it will.” This note is taken from an Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakspeare, &c. by Mrs. Montagu. So, in the Lyfe of Saynt Radegunda, printed by Pynson, 4to. no date: “How they dispend the tyme, the day, the houre.” Such tautology is common to Shakspeare. “The very head and front of my offending,” is little less reprehensible. “Time and the hour,” is ‘Time with his hours.’ Steevens. The same expression is used by a writer nearly contemporary with Shakspeare: “Neither can there be any thing in the world more acceptable to me than death, whose hower and time if they were as certayne,” &c. Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 1579. Again, in Davison's Poems, 1602: “Time's young howres attend her still.” Again, in our author's 126th Sonnet: “O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power “Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour &lblank;.” Again, in his 57th Sonnet: “Being your slave, what should I do but tend “Upon the hours and times of your desire?” Again, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1587 (Legend of the Duke of Buckingham): “The unhappy hour, the time, and eke the day.” Malone.

Note return to page 86 8&lblank; we stay upon your leisure.] The same phraseology occurs in the Paston Letters, vol. iii. p. 80: “&lblank; sent late to me a man ye which wuld abydin uppon my leysir,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 87 9&lblank; favour:] i. e. indulgence, pardon. Steevens.

Note return to page 88 1&lblank; my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten.] My head was worked, agitated, put into commotion. Johnson. So, in Othello: “Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, “Perplex'd in the extreme.” Steevens.

Note return to page 89 2&lblank; where every day I turn The leaf to read them.] He means, as Mr. Upton has observed, that they are registered in the table-book of his heart. So Hamlet speaks of the table of his memory. Malone.

Note return to page 90 3The interim having weigh'd it,] This intervening portion of time is also personified: it is represented as a cool impartial judge; as the pauser Reason. Or, perhaps, we should read— “I' th' interim.” Steevens. I believe the interim is used adverbially: “you having weighed it in the interim.” Malone.

Note return to page 91 4&lblank; Are not &lblank;] The old copy reads—Or not. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 92 5With one that saw him die:] The behaviour of the thane of Cawdor corresponds, in almost every circumstance, with that of the unfortunate Earl of Essex, as related by Stowe, p. 793. His asking the Queen's forgiveness, his confession, repentance, and concern about behaving with propriety on the scaffold, are minutely described by that historian. Such an allusion could not fail of having the desired effect on an audience, many of whom were eye-witnesses to the severity of that justice which deprived the age of one of its greatest ornaments, and Southampton, Shakspeare's patron, of his dearest friend. Steevens.

Note return to page 93 6&lblank; studied in his death,] Instructed in the art of dying. It was usual to say studied, for learned in science. Johnson. His own profession furnished our author with this phrase. To be studied in a part, or to have studied it, is yet the technical term of the theatre. Malone. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.” The same phrase occurs in Hamlet. Steevens.

Note return to page 94 7To find the mind's construction in the face:] The ‘construction of the mind’ is, I believe, a phrase peculiar to Shakspeare: it implies the frame or disposition of the mind, by which it is determined to good or ill. Johnson. Dr. Johnson seems to have understood the word construction in this place, in the sense of frame or structure; but the schoolterm was, I believe, intended by Shakspeare. The meaning is— “We cannot construe or discover the disposition of the mind by the lineaments of the face.” So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Construe the times to their necessities.” In Hamlet we meet with a kindred phrase: “&lblank; These profound heaves “You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.” Our author again alludes to his grammar, in Troilus and Cressida: “I'll decline the whole question.” In his 93d Sonnet, however, we find a contrary sentiment asserted: “In many's looks the false heart's history “Is writ.” Malone.

Note return to page 95 8More is thy due than more than all can pay.] More is due to thee, than, I will not say all, but more than all, i. e. the greatest recompense, can pay. Thus in Plautus: Nihilo minus. There is an obscurity in this passage, arising from the word all, which is not used here personally, (more than all persons can pay) but for the whole wealth of the speaker. So, more clearly, in King Henry VIII.: “More than my all is nothing.” This line appeared obscure to Sir William D'Avenant, for he alrered it thus: “I have only left to say, “That thou deservest more than I have to pay.” Malone.

Note return to page 96 9&lblank; servants; Which do but what they should, by doing every thing &lblank;] From Scripture: “So when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do.” Henley.

Note return to page 97 1Which do but what they should, by doing every thing Safe toward your love and honour.] Mr. Upton gives the word safe as an instance of an adjective used adverbially. Steevens. Read— “Safe (i. e. saved) toward you love and honour;” and then the sense will be—“Our duties are your children, and servants or vassals to your throne and state; who do but what they should, by doing every thing with a saving of their love and honour toward you.” The whole is an allusion to the forms of doing homage in the feudal times. The oath of allegiance, or liege homage, to the king, was absolute, and without any exception; but simple homage, when done to a subject for lands holden of him, was always with a saving of the allegiance (the love and honour) due to the sovereign. “Sauf la foy que jeo doy a nostre seignor le roy,” as it is in Littleton. And though the expression be somewhat stiff and forced, it is not more so than many others in this play, and suits well with the situation of Macbeth, now beginning to waver in his allegiance. For, as our author elsewhere says, [in Julius Cæsar:] “When love begins to sicken and decay, “It useth an enforced ceremony.” Blackstone. A similar expression occurs also in the Letters of the Paston Family, vol. ii. p. 254: “&lblank; ye shalle fynde me to yow as kynde as I maye be, my conscience and worshyp savy'd.” Steevens. A passage in Cupid's Revenge, a comedy by Beaumont and Fletcher, adds some support to Sir William Blackstone's emendation: “I'll speak it freely, always my obedience “And love preserved unto the prince.” So also the following words, spoken by Henry Duke of Lancaster to King Richard II. at their interview in the Castle of Flint, (a passage that Shakspeare had certainly read, and perhaps remembered): “My sovereign lorde and kyng, the cause of my coming, at this present, is, [your honour saved,] to have againe restitution of my person, my landes, and heritage, through your favourable licence.” Holinshed's Chron. vol. ii. Our author himself also furnishes us with a passage that likewise may serve to confirm this emendation. See The Winter's Tale, Act IV. Sc. III.: “Save him from danger; do him love and honour.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, “That honour sav'd may upon asking give?” Again, in Cymbeline: “I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing “(Always reserv'd my holy duty) what “His rage can do on me.” Our poet has used the verb to safe in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; best you saf'd the bringer “Out of the host.” Malone.

Note return to page 98 2&lblank; full of growing.] Is, I believe, exuberant, perfect, complete in thy growth. So, in Othello: “What a full fortune doth the thick-lips owe?” Malone.

Note return to page 99 3My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow.] &lblank; lachrymas non sponte cadentes Effudit, gemitusque expressit pectore læto; Non aliter manifesta potens abscondere mentis Gaudia, quam lachrymis. Lucan, lib. ix. There was no English translation of Lucan before 1614.—We meet with the same sentiment again in The Winter's Tale: “It seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded in tears.” It is likewise employed in the first scene of Much Ado About Nothing. Malone. It is thus also that Statius describes the appearance of Argia and Antigone, Theb. iii. 426: Flebile gavisæ &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 100 4&lblank; hence to Inverness,] Dr. Johnson observes, in his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, that the walls of the castle of Macbeth, at Inverness, are yet standing. Steevens. The circumstance of Duncan's visiting Macbeth is supported by history; for, from the Scottish Chronicles, it appears that it was customary for the king to make a progress through his dominions every year. “Inerat ei [Duncano] laudabilis consuetudo regni pertransire regiones semel in anno.” Fordun. Scotichron. lib. iv. c. xliv. “Singulis annis ad inopum querelas audiendas perlustrabat provincias.” Buchan. lib. vii. Malone.

Note return to page 101 5The prince of Cumberland!] So, Holinshed, History of Scotland, p. 171: “Duncan having two sonnes, &c. he made the elder of them, called Malcolme, prince of Cumberland, as it was thereby to appoint him successor in his kingdome immediatlie after his decease. Mackbeth sorely troubled herewith, for that he saw by this means his hope sore hindered, (where, by the old laws of the realme the ordinance was, that if he that should succeed were not of able age to take the charge upon himself, he that was next of bloud unto him should be admitted,) he began to take counsel how he might usurpe the kingdome by force, having a just quarrel so to doe (as he tooke the matter,) for that Duncane did what in him lay to defraud him of all manner of title and claime, which he might, in time to come, pretend unto the crowne.” The crown of Scotland was originally not hereditary. When a successor was declared in the life-time of a king, (as was often the case,) the title of Prince of Cumberland was immediately bestowed on him as the mark of his designation. Cumberland was at that time held by Scotland of the crown of England as a fief. Steevens. The former part of Mr. Steevens's remark is supported by Bellenden's translation of Hector Boethius: “In the mene tyme Kyng Duncane maid his son Malcolme Prince of Cumbir, to signify yt he suld regne eftir hym, quhilk was gret displeseir to Makbeth; for it maid plane derogatioun to the thrid weird promittit afore to hym be this weird sisteris. Nochtheles he thoct gif Duncane were slane, he had maist rycht to the croun, because he wes nerest of blud yairto, be tenour of ye auld lavis maid eftir the deith of King Fergus, quhen young children wer unable to govern the croun, the nerrest of yair blude sal regne.” So also Buchanan, Rerum Scoticarum Hist. lib. vii.: “Duncanus e filia Sibardi reguli Northumbrorum, duos filios genuerat. Ex iis Milcolumbum, vixdum puberem, Cumbriæ præfecit. Id factum ejus Macbethus molestius, quam credi poterat, tulit, eam videlicet moram sibi ratus injectam, ut, priores jam magistratus (juxta visum nocturnum) adeptus, aut omnino a regno excluderetur, aut eo tardius potiretur, cum præfectura Cumbriæ velut aditus ad supremum magistratum semper esset habitus.” It has been asserted by an anonymous writer [Mr. Ritson] that “the crown of Scotland was always hereditary, and that it should seem from the play that Malcolm was the first who had the title of Prince of Cumberland.” An extract or two from Hector Boethius will be sufficient relative to these points. In the tenth chapter of the eleventh book of his History we are informed, that some of the friends of Kenneth III. the eightieth King of Scotland, came among the nobles, desiring them to choose Malcolm, the son of Kenneth, to be Lord of Cumbir, “yt he mycht be yt way the better cum to ye crown after his faderis deid.” Two of the nobles said, it was in the power of Kenneth to make whom he pleased Lord of Cumberland; and Malcolm was accordingly appointed. “Sic thingis done, King Kenneth, be advise of his nobles, abrogat ye auld lawis concerning the creation of yair king, and made new lawis in manner as followes: 1. The king beand decessit, his eldest son or his eldest nepot, (notwithstanding quhat sumevir age he be of, and youcht he was born efter his faderis death, sal succede ye croun,” &c. Notwithstanding this precaution, Malcolm, the eldest son of Kenneth, did not succeed to the throne after the death of his father; for after Kenneth, reigned Constantine, the son of King Culyne. To him succeeded Gryme, who was not the son of Constantine, but the grandson of King Duffe. Gryme, says Boethius, came to Scone, “quhare he was crownit by the tenour of the auld lawis.” After the death of Gryme, Malcolm, the son of King Kenneth, whom Boethius frequently calls Prince of Cumberland, became King of Scotland; and to him succeeded Duncan, the son of his eldest daughter. These breaches, however, in the succession, appear to have been occasioned by violence in turbulent times; and though the eldest son could not succeed to the throne, if he happened to be a minor at the death of his father, yet, as by the ancient laws the next of blood was to reign, the Scottish monarchy may be said to have been hereditary, subject however to peculiar regulations. Malone.

Note return to page 102 6True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant;] i. e. he is to the full as valiant as you have described him. We must imagine, that while Macbeth was uttering the six preceding lines, Duncan and Banquo had been conferring apart. Macbeth's conduct appears to have been their subject; and to some encomium supposed to have been bestowed on him by Banquo, the reply of Duncan refers. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 7&lblank; by the perfectest report,] By the best intelligence. Johnson.

Note return to page 104 8&lblank; missives from the king,] i. e. messengers. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Did gibe my missive out of audience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 105 9&lblank; thou'd'st have, great Glamis, That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that, &c.] As the object of Macbeth's desire is here introduced speaking of itself, it is necessary to read: “&lblank; thou'd'st have, great Glamis, “That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have me.” Johnson.

Note return to page 106 1And that which rather thou dost fear to do,] The construction, perhaps, is, thou would'st have that, [i. e. the crown,] which cries unto thee, “thou must do thus, if thou would'st have it, and thou must do that which rather,” &c. Sir T. Hanmer, without necessity, reads—“And that's what rather &lblank;.” The difficulty of this line and the succeeding hemistich seems to have arisen from their not being considered as part of the speech uttered by the object of Macbeth's ambition. As such they appear to me, and I have therefore distinguished them by Italicks. Malone. This regulation is certainly proper, and I have followed it. Steevens.

Note return to page 107 2That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;] I meet with the same expression in Lord Sterline's Julius Cæsar, 1607: “Thou in my bosom us'd to pour thy spright.” Malone.

Note return to page 108 3&lblank; the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.] For seem, the sense evidently directs us to read seek. The crown to which fate destines thee, and which preternatural agents endeavour to bestow upon thee. The golden round is the diadem. Johnson. So, in Act IV.: “And wears upon his baby brow the round “And top of sovereignty.” Steevens. Metaphysical, for supernatural. But “doth seem to have thee crown'd withal,” is not sense. To make it so, it should be supplied thus: “doth seem desirous to have.” But no poetic licence would excuse this. An easy alteration will restore the poet's true reading: “&lblank; doth seem “To have crown'd thee withal.” i. e. they seem already to have crowned thee, and yet thy disposition at present hinders it from taking effect. Warburton. The words, as they now stand, have exactly the same meaning. Such arrangement is sufficiently common among our ancient writers. Steevens. I do not concur with Dr. Warburton, in thinking that Shakspeare meant to say, that fate and metaphysical aid seem to have crowned Macbeth. Lady Macbeth means to animate her husband to the attainment of “the golden round,” with which fate and supernatural agency seem to intend to have him crowned on a future day. So, in All's Well That Ends Well, vol. x. p. 328: “&lblank; Our dearest friend “Prejudicates the business, and would seem “To have us make denial.” There is, in my opinion, a material difference between—“To have thee crown'd,” and “To have crown'd thee;” of which the learned commentator does not appear to have been aware. Metaphysical, which Dr. Warburton has justly observed, means supernatural, seems, in our author's time, to have had no other meaning. In the English Dictionary, by H. C. 1655, Metaphysicks are thus explained: “Supernatural arts.” Malone. To have thee crowned, is to desire that you should be crowned. So, by an idiom of our language which is in common use, but which it is not, perhaps, easy to account for, I had rather, means I would rather: “I had rather be a dog and bay the moon “Than such a Roman.” And such, I think, is evidently the meaning of the passage quoted from All's Well That Ends Well. Boswell.

Note return to page 109 3&lblank; The raven himself is hoarse,] Dr. Warburton reads: “&lblank; The raven himself's not hoarse.” Yet I think the present words may stand. The messenger, says the servant, had hardly breath “to make up his message;” to which the lady answers mentally, that he may well want breath, such a message would add hoarseness to the raven. That even the bird, whose harsh voice is accustomed to predict calamities, could not croak the entrance of Duncan but in a note of unwonted harshness. Johnson. The following is, in my opinion, the sense of this passage: ‘Give him tending; the news he brings are worth the speed that made him lose his breath. [Exit Attendant.] 'Tis certain now—the raven himself is spent, is hoarse by croaking this very message, the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements.’ Lady Macbeth (for she was not yet unsexed) was likelier to be deterred from her design than encouraged in it by the supposed thought that the message and the prophecy (though equally secrets to the messenger and the raven) had deprived the one of speech, and added harshness to the other's note. Unless we absurdly suppose the messenger acquainted with the hidden import of his message, speed alone had intercepted his breath, as repetition the raven's voice; though the lady considered both as organs of that destiny which hurried Duncan into her meshes. Fuseli. Mr. Fuseli's idea, that the raven has croaked till he is hoarse with croaking, may receive support from the following passage in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine “With repetition of my Romeo's name.” Again, from one of the Parts of King Henry VI.: “Warwick is hoarse with daring thee to arms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 110 4&lblank; Come, come, you spirits &lblank;] For the sake of the metre I have ventured to repeat the word—come, which occurs only once in the old copy. All had been added by Sir William D'Avenant, to supply the same deficiency. Steevens.

Note return to page 111 5&lblank; mortal thoughts,] This expression signifies not the thoughts of mortals, but murderous, deadly, or destructive designs. So, in Act V.: “Hold fast the mortal sword.” And in another place: “With twenty mortal murders.” Johnson. In Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, by T. Nashe, 1592, (a very popular pamphlet of that time,) our author might have found a particular description of these spirits, and of their office: “The second kind of devils, which he most employeth, are those northern Martii, called the spirits of revenge, and the authors of massacres, and seedsmen of mischief; for they have commission to incense men to rapines, sacrilege, theft, murder, wrath, fury, and all manner of cruelties: and they command certain of the southern spirits to wait upon them, as also great Arioch, that is termed the spirit of revenge.” Malone.

Note return to page 112 6&lblank; remorse;] Remorse, in ancient language, signifies pity. So, in King Lear: “Thrill'd with remorse, oppos'd against the act.” Again, in Othello: “And to obey shall be in me remorse &lblank;.” See notes on that passage, Act III. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 113 7&lblank; nor keep peace between The effect, and it!] The intent of Lady Macbeth evidently is to wish that no womanish tenderness, or conscientious remorse, may hinder her purpose from proceeding to effect; but neither this, nor indeed any other sense, is expressed by the present reading, and therefore it cannot be doubted that Shakspeare wrote differently, perhaps thus: “That no compunctious, visitings of nature “Shake my fell purpose, nor keep pace between “The effect and it &lblank;.” To “keep pace between,” may signify to pass between, to intervene. Pace is, on many occasions, a favourite of Shakspeare's. This phrase is, indeed, not usual in this sense; but was it not its novelty that gave occasion to the present corruption? Johnson. “&lblank; and it!” The folio reads—and hit. It, in many of our ancient books, is thus spelt. In the first stanza of Churchyard's Discourse of Rebellion, &c. 1570, we have, “Hit is a plague— Hit venom castes—Hit poysoneth all—Hit is of kinde—Hit staynes the ayre.” Steevens. The correction was made by the editor of the third folio. Lady Macbeth's purpose was to be effected by action. To “keep peace between the effect and purpose,” means, ‘to delay the execution of her purpose; to prevent its proceeding to effect.’ For as long as there should be a peace between the effect and purpose, or, in other words, till hostilities were commenced, till some bloody action should be performed, her purpose [i. e. the murder of Duncan] could not be carried into execution. So, in the following passage in King John, in which a corresponding imagery may be traced: “Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, “This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, “Hostility and civil tumult reigns “Between my conscience and my cousin's death.” A similar expression is found in a book which our author is known to have read, The Tragicall Hystorie of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “In absence of her knight, the lady no way could “Keep truce between her griefs and her, though ne'er so fayne she would.” Sir W. D'Avenant's strange alteration of this play sometimes affords a reasonably good comment upon it. Thus, in the present instance: “&lblank; make thick “My blood, stop all passage to remorse; “That no relapses into mercy may “Shake my design, nor make it fall before “'Tis ripen'd to effect.” Malone.

Note return to page 114 8&lblank; take my milk for gall,] ‘Take away my milk, and put gall into the place.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 115 9You wait on nature's mischief!] Nature's mischief is ‘mischief done to nature, violation of nature's order committed by wickedness.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 116 1&lblank; Come, thick night, &c.] A similar invocation is found in A Warning for Faire Women, 1599, a tragedy which was certainly prior to Macbeth: “O sable night, sit on the eye of heaven, “That it discern not this black deed of darkness! “My guilty soul, burnt with lust's hateful fire, “Must wade through blood to obtain my vile desire: “Be then my coverture, thick ugly night! “The light hates me, and I do hate the light.” Malone.

Note return to page 117 2And pall thee &lblank;] i. e. wrap thyself in a pall. Warburton. A pall is a robe of state. So, in the ancient black letter romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “The knyghtes were clothed in pall.” Again, in Milton's Penseroso: “Sometime let gorgeous tragedy “In scepter'd pall come sweeping by.” Dr. Warburton seems to mean the covering which is thrown over the dead. To pall, however, in the present instance, (as Mr. Douce observes to me,) may simply mean—to wrap, to invest. Steevens.

Note return to page 118 3That my keen knife &lblank;] The word knife, which at present has a familiar undignified meaning, was anciently used to express a sword or dagger. So, in the old black letter romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “Through Goddes myght, and his knyfe, “There the gyaunte lost his lyfe.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. vi.: “&lblank; the red-cross knight was slain with paynim knife.” Steevens. To avoid a multitude of examples, which in the present instance do not seem wanted, I shall only observe that Mr. Steevens's remark might be confirmed by quotations without end. Reed.

Note return to page 119 4&lblank; the blanket of the dark,] Drayton, in the 26th Song of his Polyolbion, has an expression resembling this: “Thick vapours, that, like ruggs, still hang the troubled air.” Steevens. Polyolbion was not published till 1612, after this play had certainly been exhibited; but in an earlier piece Drayton has the same expression: “The sullen night in mistie rugge is wrapp'd.” Mortimeriados, 4to. 1596. Blanket was perhaps suggested to our poet by the coarse woollen curtain of his own theatre, through which probably, while the house was yet but half-lighted, he had himself often peeped.— In King Henry VI. Part III. we have—“night's coverture.” A kindred thought is found in our author's Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “Were Tarquin's night, (as he is but night's child,)   “The silver-shining queen he would distain; “Her twinkling hand-maids too, [the stars] by him defil'd,   “Through night's black bosom should not peep again.” Malone.

Note return to page 120 5To cry, Hold, hold!] On this passage there is a long criticism in The Rambler, Number 168. Johnson. In this criticism the epithet dun is objected to as a mean one. Milton, however, appears to have been of a different opinion, and has represented Satan as flying “&lblank; in the dun air sublime,” And had already told us, in the character of Comus, “'Tis only daylight that makes sin, “Which these dun shades will ne'er report.” Gawin Douglas employs dun as a synonyme to fulvus. Steevens. “To cry, Hold, hold!” The thought is taken from the old military laws which inflicted capital punishment upon “whosoever shall strike stroke at his adversary, either in the heat or otherwise, if a third do cry hold, to the intent to part them; except that they did fight a combat in a place enclosed: and then no man shall be so hardy as to bid hold, but the general.” P. 264 of Mr. Bellay's Instructions for the Wars, translated in 1589. Tollet. Mr. Tollet's note will likewise illustrate the last line in Macbeth's concluding speech: “And damn'd be him who first cries, hold, enough!” Steevens.

Note return to page 121 6Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!] Shakspeare has supported the character of Lady Macbeth by repeated efforts, and never omits any opportunity of adding a trait of ferocity, or a mark of the want of human feelings, to this monster of his own creation. The softer passions are more obliterated in her than in her husband, in proportion as her ambition is greater. She meets him here on his arrival from an expedition of danger, with such a salutation as would have become one of his friends or vassals; a salutation apparently fitted rather to raise his thoughts to a level with her own purposes, than to testify her joy at his return, or manifest an attachment to his person: nor does any sentiment expressive of love or softness fall from her throughout the play. While Macbeth himself, amidst the horrors of his guilt, still retains a character less fiend-like than that of his queen, talks to her with a degree of tenderness, and pours his complaints and fears into her bosom, accompanied with terms of endearment. Steevens.

Note return to page 122 7This ignorant present,] Ignorant has here the signification of unknowing; that is, I feel by anticipation those future honours, of which, according to the process of nature, the present time would be ignorant. Johnson. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; his shipping, “Poor ignorant baubles,” &c. Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; ignorant fumes that mantle “Their clearer reason.” Steevens. “This ignorant present.” Thus the old copy. Some of our modern editors read: “&lblank; present time:” but the phraseology in the text is frequent in our author, as well as other ancient writers. So, in the first scene of The Tempest: “If you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more.” The sense does not require the word time, and it is too much for the measure. Again, in Coriolanus: “And that you not delay the present; but,” &c. Again, in 1 Corinthians xv. 6: “&lblank; of whom the greater part remain unto this present.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Be pleas'd to tell us “(For this is from the present) how you take “The offer I have sent you.” Steevens. I am far from objecting to Mr. Steevens for not altering the old copy; but I cannot understand how the word time would be “too much for the measure;” unless we place the accent on the second syllable, of present: the verse, like many others in Shakspeare, is defective without it. Boswell.

Note return to page 123 8Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read, &c.] That is, thy looks are such as will awaken men's curiosity, excite their attention, and make room for suspicion. Heath. So, in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Her face the book of praises, where is read “Nothing but curious pleasures.” Steevens. Again, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Poor women's faces are their own faults' books.” Malone.

Note return to page 124 9&lblank; To beguile the time, Look like the time;] The same expression occurs in the eighth book of Daniel's Civil Wars: “He draws a traverse 'twixt his grievances; “Looks like the time: his eye made not report “Of what he felt within; nor was he less “Than usually he was in every part; “Wore a clear face upon a cloudy heart.” Steevens. The seventh and eighth books of Daniel's Civil Wars were not published till the year 1609; [see the Epistle Dedicatorie to that edition:] so that, if either poet copied the other, Daniel must have been indebted to Shakspeare; for there can be little doubt that Macbeth had been exhibited before that year. Malone.

Note return to page 125 1&lblank; look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.] Thus, in Chaucer's Squiere's Tale, 10,827: “So depe in greyne he died his coloures, “Right as a serpent hideth him under floures, “Til he may see his time for to bite.” Steevens.

Note return to page 126 2[To alter favour ever is to fear:] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, “And fears by pale white shown.” Favour, is look, countenance. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “I know your favour, lord Ulysses, well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 127 3This castle hath a pleasant seat;] Seat here means situation. Lord Bacon says, “He that builds a faire house upon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither doe I reckon it an ill seat, only where the aire is unwholsome, but likewise where the aire is unequal; as you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of ground invironed with higher hills round about it, whereby the heat of the sunne is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you shall have, and that suddenly, as great diversitie of heat and cold, as if you dwelt in several places.” Essays, 2d edit. 4to. 1632, p. 257. Reed. “This castle hath a pleasant seat.” This short dialogue between Duncan and Banquo, whilst they are approaching the gates of Macbeth's castle, has always appeared to me a striking instance of what in painting is termed repose. Their conversation very naturally turns upon the beauty of its situation, and the pleasantness of the air; and Banquo, observing the martlet's nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks, that where those birds most breed and haunt, the air is delicate. The subject of this quiet and easy conversation gives that repose so necessary to the mind after the tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and perfectly contrasts the scene of horror that immediately succeeds. It seems as if Shakspeare asked himself, What is a prince likely to say to his attendants on such an occasion? Whereas the modern writers seem, on the contrary, to be always searching for new thoughts, such as would never occur to men in the situation which is represented. This also is frequently the practice of Homer, who, from the midst of battles and horrors, relieves and refreshes the mind of the reader, by introducing some quiet rural image, or picture of familiar domestick life. Sir J. Reynolds.

Note return to page 128 4Unto our gentle senses.] Senses are nothing more than each man's sense. Gentle sense is very elegant, as it means placid, calm, composed, and intimates the peaceable delight of a fine day. Johnson.

Note return to page 129 5&lblank; martlet,] This bird is in the old edition called barlet. Johnson. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone. It is supported by the following passage in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; like the martlet “Builds in the weather on the outward wall.” Steevens.

Note return to page 130 6&lblank; no jutty, frieze.] The word jutty has been considered as an epithet to frieze; but this is a mistake. A comma should have been placed after jutty. A jutty, or jetty, (for so it ought rather to be written,) is a substantive, signifying that part of a building which shoots forward beyond the rest. See Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Barbacane. An outnooke or corner standing out of a house; a jettie.”—“Sporto. A porch, a portal, a bay-window; or out-butting, or jettie, of a house, that jetties out farther than anie other part of the house.”—See also Surpendue, in Cotgrave's French Dict. 1611: “A jettie; an out-jetting room.” Malone. Shakspeare uses the verb to jutty, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; as fearfully as doth a galled rock “O'erhang and jutty his confounded base.” The substantive also occurs in an agreement between Philip Henslowe, &c. &c. for building a new theatre, in the year 1599. See vol. ii.: “&lblank; besides a juttey forwards in eyther of the saide two upper stories,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 131 7&lblank; coigne of vantage,] Convenient corner. Johnson. So, in Pericles: “By the four opposing coignes, “Which the world together joins.” Steevens.

Note return to page 132 8Most breed &lblank;] The folio—Must breed. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 133 9&lblank; is delicate.] So this passage is exhibited in the old copy. Mr. Steevens, without giving the reader any notice of the alteration, has arranged it in the following manner: “Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress, “Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made “His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they “Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, the air “Is delicate.” The reader must make out the superior harmony of the first of these lines without assistance; but the next note will inform him what he is to do with the third. Boswell. “His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they.” Lest the reader should think this verse defective in harmony, he ought to be told, that as needle was once written and pronounced neele and neeld, so cradle was contracted into crale, and consequently uttered as a monosyllable. Thus, in the fragment of an ancient Christmas carol now before me:   “&lblank; on that day “Did aungels round him minister   “As in his crale he lay.” In some parts of Warwickshire, (as I am informed,) the word is drawlingly pronounced, as if it had been written—craale. Steevens.

Note return to page 134 1The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you, How you shall bid God yield us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.] “The attention that is paid us, (says Duncan on seeing Lady Macbeth come to meet him,) sometimes gives us pain, when we reflect that we give trouble to others; yet still we cannot but be pleased with such attentions, because they are a proof of affection.” So far is clear;— but of the following words, I confess, I have no very distinct conception, and suspect them to be corrupt. Perhaps the meaning is,—“By being the occasion of so much trouble, I furnish you with a motive to pray to heaven to reward me for the pain I give you,” inasmuch as the having such an opportunity of showing your loyalty may hereafter prove beneficial to you; “and herein also I afford you a motive to thank me for the trouble I give you,” because by showing me such attention, (however painful it may be to me to be the cause of it,) you have an opportunity of displaying an amiable character, and of ingratiating yourself with your sovereign: which, finally, may bring you both profit and honour. Malone. This passage is undoubtedly obscure, and the following is the best explication of it I am able to offer: “Marks of respect, importunately shown, are sometimes troublesome, though we are still bound to be grateful for them, as indications of sincere attachment. If you pray for us on account of the trouble we create in your house, and thank us for the molestations we bring with us, it must be on such a principle. Herein I teach you, that the inconvenience you suffer, is the result of our affection; and that you are therefore to pray for us, or thank us, only as far as prayers and thanks can be deserved for kindnesses that fatigue, and honours that oppress. You are, in short, to make your acknowledgments for intended respect and love, however irksome our present mode of expressing them may have proved.”—To bid is here used in the Saxon sense—to pray. Steevens. “How you shall bid God-yield us.” To bid any one God-yeld him, i. e. God-yield him, was the same as God reward him. Warburton. I believe yield, or, as it is in the folio of 1623, eyld, is a corrupted contraction of shield. The wish implores not reward, but protection. Johnson. I rather believe it to be a corruption of God-yield, i. e. reward. In Antony and Cleopatra we meet with it at length: “And the gods yield you for't.” Again, in the interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1568: “God yelde you, Esau, with all my stomach.” Again, in the old metrical romance of Syr Guy of Warwick, bl. l. no date: “Syr, quoth Guy, God yield it you, “Of this great gift you give me now.” Again, in Chaucer's Sompnoure's Tale, v. 7759; Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit.: “God yelde you adoun in your village.” Again, one of the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 335, begins thus: “To begin, God yeld you for my hats.” God shield means God forbid, and could never be used as a form of returning thanks. So, in Chaucer's Milleres Tale: “God shilde that he died sodenly.” V. 3427; Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. Steevens.

Note return to page 135 2We rest your hermits.] Hermits, for beadsmen. Warburton. That is, we as hermits shall always pray for you. Thus, in A. of Wyntown's Cronykil, b. ix. c. xxvii. v. 99: “His bedmen thai suld be for-thi, “And pray for hym rycht hartfully.” Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “I am your beadsman, bound to pray for you.” Again, in Heywood's English Traveller, 1633: “&lblank; worshipful sir, “I shall be still your beadsman.” This phrase occurs frequently in The Paston Letters. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 3&lblank; his great love, sharp as his spur,] So, in Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. III.: “&lblank; my desire, “More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 137 4Your servants ever, &c.] The metaphor in this speech is taken from the Steward's compting-house or audit-room. In compt, means, subject to account. So, in Timon of Athens: “And have the dates in compt.” The sense of the whole is:—“We, and all who belong to us, look upon our lives and fortunes not as our own properties, but as things we have received merely for your use, and for which we must be accountable, whenever you please to call us to our audit; when, like faithful stewards, we shall be ready to answer your summons, by returning you what is your own.” Steevens.

Note return to page 138 5Enter &lblank; a Sewer,] I have restored this stage direction from the old copy. A sewer was an officer so called from his placing the dishes upon the table. Asseour, French; from asseoir, to place. Thus, in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: “&lblank; Automedon as fit “Was for the reverend sewer's place; and all the browne joints serv'd “On wicker vessell to the board.” Barclay, Ecl. ii. has the following remark on the conduct of these domesticks: “Slowe be the sewers in serving in alway, “But swift be they after, taking the meate away.” Another part of the sewer's office was, to bring water for the guests to wash their hands with. Thus Chapman, in his version of the Odyssey: “&lblank; and then the sewre “Pour'd water from a great and golden ewre,” The sewer's chief mark of distinction was a towel round his arm. So, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman: “&lblank; clap me a clean towel about you, like a sewer.” Again: “See, sir Amorous has his towel on already. [He enters like a sewer.]” It may be worth while to observe, for the sake of preserving an ancient word, that the dishes served in by sewers were called sewes. So, in the old MS. romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 66: “Lest that lurdeynes come sculkynge out, “For ever they have bene shrewes, “Loke each of them have such a cloute “That thay never ete moo sewes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 139 6If it were done, &c.] A sentiment parallel to this occurs in The Proceedings against Garnet in the Powder Plot. “It would have been commendable, when it had been done, though not before.” Farmer.

Note return to page 140 7&lblank; If the assassination, &c.] Of this soliloquy the meaning is not very clear; I have never found the readers of Shakspeare agreeing about it. I understand it thus: “If that which I am about to do, when it is once done and executed, were done and ended without any following effects, it would then be best to do it quickly: if the murder could terminate in itself, and restrain the regular course of consequences, if its success could secure its surcease, if, being once done successfully, without detection, it could fix a period to all vengeance and inquiry, so that this blow might be all that I have to do, and this anxiety all that I have to suffer; if this could be my condition, even here in this world, in this contracted period of temporal existence, on this narrow bank in the ocean of eternity, I would jump the life to come, I would venture upon the deed without care of any future state. But this is one of those cases in which judgment is pronounced and vengeance inflicted upon us here in our present life. We teach others to do as we have done, and are punished by our own example. Johnson. We are told by Dryden, that “Ben Jonson, in reading some bombast speeches in Macbeth, which are not to be understood, used to say that it was horrour.”—Perhaps the present passage was one of those thus depreciated. Any person but this envious detractor would have dwelt with pleasure on the transcendent beauties of this sublime tragedy, which, after Othello, is perhaps our author's greatest work; and would have been more apt to have been thrown into “strong shudders” and blood-freezing “agues,” by its interesting and high-wrought scenes, than to have been offended by any imaginary hardness of its language; for such, it appears from the context, is what he meant by horrour. That there are difficult passages in this tragedy, cannot be denied; but that there are “some bombast speeches in it, which are not to be understood,” as Dryden asserts, will not very readily be granted to him. From this assertion, however, and the verbal alterations made by him and Sir W. D'Avenant, in some of our author's plays, I think it clearly appears that Dryden and the other poets of the time of Charles II. were not very deeply skilled in the language of their predecessors, and that Shakspeare was not so well understood fifty years after his death, as he is at this day. Malone.

Note return to page 141 8Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success;] I think the reasoning requires that we should read: “With its success surcease &lblank;.” Johnson. A trammel is a net in which either birds or fishes are caught. So, in The Isle of Gulls, 1633: “Each tree and shrub wears trammels of thy hair.” Surcease is cessation, stop. So, in The Valiant Welchman, 1615: “Surcease brave brother: Fortune hath crown'd our brows.” His is used instead of its, in many places. Steevens. The personal pronouns are so frequently used by Shakspeare, instead of the impersonal, that no amendment would be necessary in this passage, even if it were certain that the pronoun his refers to assassination, which seems to be the opinion of Johnson and Steevens; but I think it more probable that it refers to Duncan; and that by his surcease Macbeth means Duncan's death, which was the object of his contemplation. M. Mason. His certainly may refer to assassination, (as Dr. Johnson, by his proposed alteration, seems to have thought it did,) for Shakspeare very frequently uses his for its. But in this place perhaps his refers to Duncan; and the meaning may be, “If the assassination, at the same time that it puts an end to the life of Duncan, could procure me unalloyed happiness, promotion to the crown unmolested by the compunctious visitings of conscience, &c. To cease often signifies in these plays, to die. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease.” I think, however, it is more probable that his is used for its, and that it relates to assassination. Malone.

Note return to page 142 9&lblank; shoal of time,] This is Theobald's emendation, undoubtedly right. The old edition has school, and Dr. Warburton shelve. Johnson. By the shoal of time, our author means the shallow ford of life, between us and the abyss of eternity. Steevens.

Note return to page 143 1We'd jump the life to come.] So, in Cymbeline, Act V. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril.” Steevens. “We'd jump the life to come,” certainly means, ‘We'd hazard or run the risk of what might happen in a future state of being.’ So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Our fortune lies “Upon this jump.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; and wish “To jump a body with a dangerous physick, “That's sure of death without it.” See note on this passage, Act III. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 144 2&lblank; we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor:] So, in Bellenden's translation of Hector Boethius: “He [Macbeth] was led be wod furyis, as ye nature of all tyrannis is, quhilks conquessis landis or kingdomes be wrangus titil, ay full of hevy thocht and dredour, and traisting ilk man to do siclik crueltes to hym, as he did afore to othir.” Malone.

Note return to page 145 3&lblank; This even-handed justice &lblank;] Mr. M. Mason observes, that we might more advantageously read— “Thus even-handed justice,” &c. Steevens. The old reading I believe to be the true one, because Shakspeare has very frequently used this mode of expression. So, a little lower: “Besides, this Duncan,” &c. Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “That this same child of honour and renown, “This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 146 4Commends the ingredients &lblank;] Thus, in a subsequent scene of this play: “I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot, “And so I do commend you to their backs.” This verb has many shades of meaning. It seems here to signify —offers, or recommends. Steevens.

Note return to page 147 5&lblank; our poison'd chalice To our own lips.] Our poet, apis Matinæ more modoque, would stoop to borrow a sweet from any flower, however humble in its situation. “The pricke of conscience (says Holinshed) caused him ever to feare, lest he should be served of the same cup as he had ministered to his predecessor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 148 6First, as I am his kinsman &lblank;] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “But as he is my kinsman and dear friend, “The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.” Malone. A soliloquy not unlike this occurs in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Ah, harmeles Arden how, how hast thou misdone, “That thus thy gentle lyfe is leveld at? “The many good turnes that thou hast done to me, “Now must I quitance with betraying thee. “I that should take the weapon in my hand, “And buckler thee from ill intending foes, “Do lead thee with a wicked fraudfull smile, “As unsuspected, to the slaughterhouse.” Boswell.

Note return to page 149 7Hath borne his faculties so meek,] Faculties, for office, exercise of power, &c. Warburton. “Duncan (says Holinshed) was soft and gentle of nature.” And again: “Macbeth spoke much against the king's softness, and overmuch slackness in punishing offenders.” Steevens.

Note return to page 150 8The deep damnation &lblank;] So, in A Dolfull Discourse of a Lord and a Ladie, by Churchyard, 1593: “&lblank; in state “Of deepe damnation stood.” I should not have thought this little coincidence worth noting, had I not found it in a poem which it should seem, from other passages, that Shakspeare had read and remembered. Steevens.

Note return to page 151 9&lblank; or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air,] Courier is only runner. Couriers of air are winds, air in motion. Sightless is invisible. Johnson. Again, in this play: “Wherever in your sightless substances,” &c. Again, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “The flames of hell and Pluto's sightless fires.” Again: “Hath any sightless and infernal fire “Laid hold upon my flesh?” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. ii. c. xi.: “The scouring winds that sightless in the sounding air do fly.” Steevens. So, in King Henry V.: “Borne with the invisible and creeping wind.” Again, in our author's 51st Sonnet: “Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind.” Again, in the Prologue to King Henry IV. Part II.: “I, from the orient to the drooping west, “Making the wind my post-horse &lblank;.” The thought of the cherubin (as has been somewhere observed) seems to have been borrowed from the eighteenth Psalm: “He rode upon the cherubins and did fly; he came flying upon the wings of the wind.” Again, in the book of Job, xxx. 22: “Thou causest me to ride upon the wind.” Malone.

Note return to page 152 1That tears shall drown the wind.] Alluding to the remission of the wind in a shower. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “For raging wind blows up incessant showers; “And, when the rage allays, the rain begins.” Again, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth.” Steevens. Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “This windy tempest, till it blow up rain “Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more; “At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Where are my tears?—rain, rain to lay this wind.” Malone.

Note return to page 153 1&lblank; I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition,] The spur of the occasion is a phrase used by Lord Bacon. Steevens. So, in the tragedy of Cæsar and Pompey, 1607: “Why think you, lords, that 'tis ambition's spur, “That pricketh Cæsar to these high attempts?” Malone. Again, in The First Part of The Tragicall Raigne of Selimus, &c. 4to. 1594: “My sonnes whom now ambition ginnes to pricke.” Todd.

Note return to page 154 2And falls on the other.] Sir T. Hanmer has on this occasion added a word, and would read— “And falls on the other side.” Yet they who plead for the admission of this supplement, should consider, that the plural of it, but two lines before, had occurred. I, also, who once attempted to justify the omission of this word, ought to have understood that Shakspeare could never mean to describe the agitation of Macbeth's mind, by the assistance of a halting verse. The general image, though confusedly expressed, relates to a horse, who, overleaping himself, falls, and his rider under him. To complete the line we may therefore read— “And falls upon the other.” Thus, in The Taming of a Shrew: “How he left her with the horse upon her.” Macbeth, as I apprehend, is meant for the rider, his intent for his horse, and his ambition for his spur; but, unluckily, as the words are arranged, the spur is said to over-leap itself. Such hazardous things are long-drawn metaphors in the hands of careless writers. Steevens. I apprehend that there is not here one long-drawn metaphor, but two distinct ones. I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent; I have nothing to stimulate me to the execution of my purpose but ambition, which is apt to overreach itself; this he expresses by the second image, of a person meaning to vault into his saddle, who, by taking too great a leap, will fall on the other side. It should be recollected that to vault upon horseback with ease and activity was reckoned a great accomplishment by the courtiers of that time. Malone.

Note return to page 155 3Enter Lady &lblank;] The arguments by which Lady Macbeth persuades her husband to commit the murder, afford a proof of Shakspeare's knowledge of human nature. She urges the excellence and dignity of courage, a glittering idea which has dazzled mankind from age to age, and animated sometimes the house-breaker, and sometimes the conqueror; but this sophism Macbeth has for ever destroyed, by distinguishing true from false fortitude, in a line and a half; of which it may almost be said, that they ought to bestow immortality on the author, though all his other productions had been lost: “I dare do all that may become a man; “Who dares do more, is none.” This topick, which has been always employed with too much success, is used in this scene, with peculiar propriety, to a soldier by a woman. Courage is the distinguishing virtue of a soldier; and the reproach of cowardice cannot be borne by any man from a woman, without great impatience. She then urges the oaths by which he had bound himself to murder Duncan, another art of sophistry by which men have sometimes deluded their consciences, and persuaded themselves that what would be criminal in others is virtuous in them: this argument Shakspeare, whose plan obliged him to make Macbeth yield, has not confuted, though he might easily have shown that a former obligation could not be vacated by a latter; that obligations, laid on us by a higher power, could not be over-ruled by obligations which we lay upon ourselves. Johnson. Part of Lady Macbeth's argument is derived from the translation of Hector Boethius. See Dr. Farmer's note, p. 38. Malone.

Note return to page 156 4Was the hope drunk, &c.] The same expression is found in King John: “O, where hath our intelligence been drunk, “Where hath it slept?” Malone.

Note return to page 157 5&lblank; Would'st thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem;] In this there seems to be no reasoning. I should read: “Or live a coward in thine own esteem;” Unless we choose rather: “&lblank; Would'st thou leave that.” Johnson. “Do you wish to obtain the crown, and yet would you remain such a coward in your own eyes all your life, as to suffer your paltry fears, which whisper, ‘I dare not,’ to controul your noble ambition, which cries out, ‘I would?’” Steevens.

Note return to page 158 6Like the poor cat i' the adage?] The adage alluded to is, ‘The cat loves fish, but dares not wet her feet:’ Catus amat pisces, sed non vult tingere plantas. Johnson. It is among Heywood's Proverbs 1566, D. 2: “The cat would eate fishe, and would not wet her feete.” Boswell.

Note return to page 159 7Pr'ythee, peace: &c.] A passage similar to this occurs in Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; be that you are, “That is, a woman: if you're more, you're none.” The old copy, instead of “do more,” reads “no more;” but the present reading is undoubtedly right. The correction (as Mr. Malone observes) was made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens. The same sentiment occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's Rollo: “My Rollo, tho' he dares as much as man, “Is tender of his yet untainted valour; “So noble, that he dares do nothing basely.” Henley.

Note return to page 160 8Did then adhere,] Thus the old copy. Dr. Warburton would read—cohere, not improperly, but without necessity. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Ford says of Falstaff, that his words and actions “no more adhere and keep pace together, than” &c. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; a shepherd's daughter, “And what to her adheres.” Steevens. So, in A Warning for Fair Women, 1599: “&lblank; Neither time “Nor place consorted to my mind.” Malone.

Note return to page 161 9I would, while it was smiling in my face,] Polyxo, in the fifth book of Statius's Thebais, has a similar sentiment of ferocity: In gremio (licet amplexu lachrimisque moretur) Transadigam ferro &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 162 1&lblank; had I so sworn,] The latter word is here used as a dissyllable. The editor of the second folio, from his ignorance of our author's phraseology and metre, supposed the line defective, and reads—“had I but so sworn;” which has been followed by all the subsequent editors. Malone. My regulation of the metre renders it unnecessary to read sworn as a dissyllable, a pronunciation of which, I believe, there is no example. Steevens.

Note return to page 163 2We fail!] I am by no means sure that this punctuation is the true one.—“If we fail, we fail,” is a colloquial phrase still in frequent use. Macbeth having casually employed the former part of this sentence, his wife designedly completes it. “We fail,” and thereby know the extent of our misfortune. Yet our success is certain, if you are resolute. Lady Macbeth is unwilling to afford her husband time to state any reasons for his doubt, or to expatiate on the obvious consequences of miscarriage in his undertaking. Such an interval for reflection to act in, might have proved unfavourable to her purposes. She therefore cuts him short with the remaining part of a common saying, to which his own words had offered an apt, though accidental introduction. This reply, at once cool and determined, is sufficiently characteristic of the speaker:—according to the old punctuation, she is represented as rejecting with contempt, (of which she had already manifested enough,) the very idea of failure. According to the mode of pointing now suggested, she admits a possibility of miscarriage, but at the same instant shows herself not afraid of the result. Her answer, therefore, communicates no discouragement to her husband.—“We fail!” is the hasty interruption of scornful impatience. “We fail,” is the calm deduction of a mind which, having weighed all circumstances, is prepared, without loss of confidence in itself, for the worst that can happen. So Hotspur: “If we fall in, good night:—or sink, or swim.” Steevens.

Note return to page 164 3But screw your courage to the sticking-place,] This is a metaphor from an engine formed by mechanical complication. The sticking-place is the stop which suspends its powers, till they are discharged on their proper object; as in driving piles, &c. So, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Cruel Brother, 1630: “&lblank; There is an engine made, “Which spends its strength by force of nimble wheels; “For they, once screwed up, in their return “Will rive an oak.” Again, in Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. VIII.: “Wrench up thy power to the highest.” Again, in Chapman's version of the ninth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; my wits which to their height “I striv'd to screw up &lblank;;” Again, in the fifteenth book: “Come, join we hands, and screw up all their spite,” Perhaps, indeed, Shakspeare had a more familiar image in view, and took his metaphor from the screwing up the chords of string-instruments to their proper degree of tension, when the peg remains fast in its sticking-place, i. e. in the place from which it is not to move. Thus, perhaps, in Twelfth-Night: “And that I partly know the instrument “That screws me from my true place,” &c. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's last interpretation is, in my apprehension, the true one. Sir W. D'Avenant misunderstood this passage. By the sticking-place, he seems to have thought the poet meant the stabbing place, the place where Duncan was to be wounded; for he reads, “Bring but your courage to the fatal place, “And we'll not fail.” Malone.

Note return to page 165 4&lblank; his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassel so convince, &c.] The circumstance relative to Macbeth's slaughter of Duncan's Chamberlains, (as I observed so long ago, as in our edition 1773,) is copied from Holinshed's account of King Duffe's murder by Donwald. Mr. Malone has since transcribed the whole narrative of this event from the Chronicle; but being too long to stand here as a note, it is given, with other bulky extracts, at the conclusion of the play. Steevens. To convince is, in Shakspeare, to overpower or subdue, as in this play: “&lblank; Their malady convinces “The great assay of art.” Johnson. So, in the old tragedy of Cambyses: “If that your heart addicted be the Egyptians to convince.” Again: “By this his grace, by conquest great the Egyptians did convince.” Again, in Holinshed: “&lblank; thus mortally fought, intending to vanquish and convince the other.” Again, in Chapman's version of the sixth Iliad: “Chymera the invincible he sent him to convince.” Steevens. “&lblank; and wassel.” What was anciently called was-haile (as appears from Selden's notes on the ninth Song of Drayton's Polyolbion,) was an annual custom observed in the country on the vigil of the new year; and had its beginning, as some say, from the words which Ronix, daughter of Hengist, used, when she drank to Vortigern, “loverd king was-heil;” he answering her, by direction of an interpreter, drinc-heile; and then, as Robert of Gloucester says: “Kuste hire and sitte hire adoune and glad dronke hire heil; “And that was tho in this land the verst was-hail, “As in langage of Saxoyne that me might evere iwite, “And so wel he paith the folc about, that he is not yut voryute.” Afterwards it appears that was-haile, and drinc-heil, were the usual phrases of quaffing among the English, as we may see from Thomas de la Moore in the Life of Edward II. and in the lines of Hanvil the monk, who preceded him: Ecce vagante cifo distento gutture wass-heil, Ingeminant wass-heil &lblank;.” But Selden rather conjectures it to have been a usual ceremony among the Saxons before Hengist, as a note of health-wishing, supposing the expression to be corrupted from wish-heil. Wassel or Wassail is a word still in use in the midland counties, and signifies at present what is called Lambs'-Wool, i. e. roasted apples in strong beer, with sugar and spice. See Beggar's Bush, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “What think you of a wassel? “&lblank; thou, and Ferret, “And Ginks, to sing the song; I for the structure, “Which is the bowl.” Ben Jonson personifies wassel thus:—“Enter Wassel like a neat sempster and songster, her page bearing a brown bowl drest with ribbands and rosemary, before her.” Wassel is, however, sometimes used for general riot, intemperance, or festivity. On the present occasion I believe it means intemperance. Steevens. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Antony, “Leave thy lascivious wassels.” See also vol. iv. p. 423. Malone.

Note return to page 166 5&lblank; the warder of the brain,] A warder is a guard, a sentinel. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “Where be these warders, that they wait not here?” Steevens.

Note return to page 167 6&lblank; the receipt of reason,] i. e. the receptacle. Malone.

Note return to page 168 7A limbeck only:] That is, shall be only a vessel to emit fumes or vapours. Johnson. The limbeck is the vessel through which distilled liquors pass into the recipient. So shall it be with memory; through which every thing shall pass, and nothing remain. A. C.

Note return to page 169 8Their drenched natures &lblank;] i. e. as we should say at present—soaked, saturated with liquor. Steevens.

Note return to page 170 9&lblank; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell?] Quell is murder, manquellers being, in the old language, the term for which murderers is now used. Johnson. So, in Chaucer's Tale of the Nonnes Priest, v. 15,396, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit.: “The dokes cryeden as men wold hem quelle.” The word is used in this sense by Holinshed, p. 567: “&lblank; the poor people ran about the streets, calling the capteins and governors murtherers and manquellers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 171 1&lblank; Will it not be receiv'd,] i. e. understood, apprehended. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; To one of your receiving “Enough is shown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 172 2Who dares receive it other,] So, in Holinshed: “&lblank; he burthen'd the chamberleins, whom he had slaine, with all the fault, they having the keyes of the gates committed to their keeping all the night, and therefore it could not be otherwise (said he) but that they were of counsel in the committing of that most detestable murther.” Malone.

Note return to page 173 3&lblank; and bend up &lblank;] A metaphor from the bow. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; bend up every spirit “To his full height.” The same phrase occurs in Melvil's Memoirs: “&lblank; but that rather she should bend up her spirit by a princely, &c. behaviour.” Edit. 1735, p. 148. Till this instant, the mind of Macbeth has been in a state of uncertainty and fluctuation. He has hitherto proved neither resolutely good, nor obstinately wicked. Though a bloody idea had arisen in his mind, after he had heard the prophecy in his favour, yet he contentedly leaves the completion of his hopes to chance. At the conclusion, however, of his interview with Duncan, he inclines to hasten the decree of fate, and quits the stage with an apparent resolution to murder his sovereign. But no sooner is the king under his roof, than, reflecting on the peculiarities of his own relative situation, he determines not to offend against the laws of hospitality, or the ties of subjection, kindred, and gratitude. His wife then assails his constancy afresh. He yields to her suggestions, and, with his integrity, his happiness is destroyed. I have enumerated these particulars, because the waverings of Macbeth have, by some criticks, been regarded as unnatural and contradictory circumstances in his character; not remembering that nemo repente fuit turpissimus, or that (as Angelo observes): “&lblank; when once our grace we have forgot, “Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not &lblank;.” a passage which contains no unapt justification of the changes that happen in the conduct of Macbeth. Steevens.

Note return to page 174 4Scene I.] The place is not marked in the old edition, nor is it easy to say where this encounter can be. It is not in the hall, as the editors have all supposed it, for Banquo sees the sky; it is not far from the bedchamber, as the conversation shows: it must be in the inner court of the castle, which Banquo might properly cross in his way to bed. Johnson. The Scene. A large court surrounded all or in part by an open gallery; chambers opening into that gallery; the gallery ascended into by stairs, open likewise; with addition of a college-like gateway, into which opens a porter's lodge; appears to have been the poet's idea of the place of this great action. The circumstances that mark it, are scatter'd through three scenes; in the latter, the hall (which moderns make the scene of this action), is appointed a place of second assembly, in terms that show it plainly distinct from that assembled in them. Buildings of this description rose in ages of chivalry; when knights rode into their courts, and paid their devoirs to ladies, viewers of their tiltings and them from these open galleries. Fragments of some of them, over the mansions of noblemen, are still subsisting in London, changed to hotels or inns. Shakspeare might see them much more entire, and take his notion from them. Capell.

Note return to page 175 5There's husbandry in heaven,] Husbandry here means thrift, frugality. So, in Hamlet: “And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.” Malone.

Note return to page 176 6Their candles are all out.] The same expression occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “Night's candles are burnt out.” Again, in our author's 21st Sonnet: “As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air.” See vol. v. p. 150, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 177 7&lblank; Merciful powers! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature Gives way to in repose!] It is apparent from what Banquo says afterwards, that he had been solicited in a dream to attempt something in consequence of the prophecy of the Witches, that his waking senses were shocked at; and Shakspeare has here most exquisitely contrasted his character with that of Macbeth. Banquo is praying against being tempted to encourage thoughts of guilt even in his sleep; while Macbeth is hurrying into temptation, and revolving in his mind every scheme, however flagitious, that may assist him to complete his purpose. The one is unwilling to sleep, lest the same phantoms should assail his resolution again, while the other is depriving himself of rest through impatience to commit the murder. The same kind of invocation occurs in Cymbeline: “From fairies, and the tempters of the night, “Guard me!” Steevens.

Note return to page 178 8Sent forth great largess to your offices:] Thus the old copy, and rightly. Offices are the rooms appropriated to servants and culinary purposes. Thus, in Timon: “When all our offices have been oppress'd “By riotous feeders.” Again, in King Richard II.: “Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones.” Duncan was pleased with his entertainment, and dispensed his bounty to those who had prepared it. All the modern editors have transferred this largess to the officers of Macbeth, who would more properly have been rewarded in the field, or at their return to court. Steevens. Mr. Steevens, who has introduced so many arbitrary alterations of Shakspeare's text, has here endeavoured to restore a palpable misprint from the old copy; officers means servants in this passage. So before, p. 87: “&lblank; What not put upon “His spongy officers.” i. e. his chamberlains. So also, in The Taming of The Shrew, vol. v. p. 459: “Is supper ready, &c. the serving men in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on?” Malone.

Note return to page 179 9&lblank; shut up &lblank;] To shut up, is to conclude. So, in The Spanish Tragedy: “And heavens have shut up day to pleasure us.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. ix.: “And for to shut up all in friendly love.” Again, in Reynolds's God's Revenge against Murder, 1621, fourth edit. p. 137: “&lblank; though the parents have already shut up the contract.” Again, in Stowe's Account of the Earl of Essex's Speech on the scaffold: “he shut up all with the Lord's prayer.” Steevens. Again, in Stowe's Annals, p. 833: “&lblank; the kings majestie [K. James] shut up all with a pithy exhortation on both sides.” Malone. I should rather suppose it means enclosed in content; content with every thing around him. So Barrow: “Hence is a man shut up in an irksome bondage of spirit.” Sermons, 1683, vol. ii. 231. Boswell.

Note return to page 180 1Being unprepar'd, Our will became the servant to defect; Which else should free have wrought.] This is obscurely expressed. The meaning seems to be:—“Being unprepared, our entertainment was necessarily defective, and we only had it in our power to show the King our willingness to serve him. Had we received sufficient notice of his coming, our zeal should have been more clearly manifested by our acts. Which refers, not to the last antecedent, defect, but to will. Malone.

Note return to page 181 2All's well.] I suppose the poet originally wrote (that the preceding verse might be completed,)—“Sir, all is well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 182 3If you shall cleave to my consent,—when 'tis,] Consent, for will. So that the sense of the line is, If you shall go into my measures when I have determined of them, or when the time comes that I want your assistance. Warburton. Macbeth expresses his thought with affected obscurity; he does not mention the royalty, though he apparently had it in his mind. “If you shall cleave to my consent,” if you shall concur with me when I determine to accept the crown, “when 'tis,” when that happens which the prediction promises, “it shall make honour for you.” Johnson. Such another expression occurs in Lord Surrey's translation of the second book of Virgil's Æneid: “And if thy will stick unto mine, I shall “In wedlocke sure knit, and make her his own.” Consent has sometimes the power of the Latin concentus. Both the verb and substantive, decidedly bearing this signification, occur in other plays of our author. Thus, in King Henry VI. Part I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; scourge the bad revolting stars “That have consented to King Henry's death &lblank;.” i. e. acted in concert so as to occasion it. Again, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; they (Justice Shallow's servants) flock together in consent, (i. e. in a party,) like so many wild geese.” In both these instances the words are spelt erroneously, and should be written concent and concented. See Spenser, &c. as quoted in a note on the passage already adduced from King Henry VI. The meaning of Macbeth is then as follows:—“If you shall cleave to my consent &lblank;” i. e. if you shall stick, or adhere, to my party—“when tis,” i. e. at the time when such a party is formed, your conduct shall produce honour for you. That consent means participation, may be proved from a passage in the 50th Psalm. I cite the translation 1568: “When thou sawdest a thiefe, thou dydst consent unto hym, and hast been partaker with the adulterers.” In both instances the particeps criminis is spoken of. Again, in our author's As You Like It, the usurping Duke says, after the flight of Rosalind and Celia— “&lblank; some villains of my court “Are of consent and sufferance in this.” Again, in King Henry V.: “We carry not a heart with us from hence, “That grows not in a fair consent with ours.” Macbeth mentally refers to the crown he expected to obtain in consequence of the murder he was about to commit. The commentator, indeed, (who is acquainted with what precedes and follows,) comprehends all that passes in the mind of the speaker; but Banquo is still in ignorance of it. His reply is only that of a man who determines to combat every possible temptation to do ill; and therefore expresses a resolve that in spite of future combinations of interest, or struggles for power, he will attempt nothing that may obscure his present honours, alarm his conscience, or corrupt his loyalty. Macbeth could never mean, while yet the success of his attack on the life of Duncan was uncertain, to afford Banquo the most dark or distant hint of his criminal designs on the crown. Had he acted thus incautiously, Banquo would naturally have become his accuser, as soon as the murder had been discovered. Steevens. The word consent has always appeared to me unintelligible in the first of these lines, and was, I am persuaded, a mere error of the press. A passage in The Tempest leads me to think that our author wrote—content. Antonio is counselling Sebastian to murder Gonsalo: “O, that you bore “The mind that I do; what a sleep were there “For your advancement! Do you understand me? “Seb. I think I do. “Ant. And how does your content “Tender your own good fortune?” In the same play we have—“Thy thoughts I cleave to,” which differs but little from “I cleave to thy content.” In The Comedy of Errors our author has again used this word in the same sense: “Sir, I commend you to your own content.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Madam, the care I have taken to even your content &lblank;.” i. e. says Dr. Johnson, to act up to your desires. Again, in King Richard III.: “God hold it to your honour's good content!” Again, in the Merry Wives of Windsor: “You shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your own content.” The meaning then of the present difficult passage, thus corrected, will be: If you will closely adhere to my cause, if you will promote, as far as you can, what is likely to contribute to my satisfaction and content,—when 'tis, when the prophecy of the weird sisters is fulfilled, when I am seated on the throne, the event shall make honour for you. If Macbeth does not mean to allude darkly to his attainment of the crown, (I do not say to his forcible or unjust acquisition of it, but to his attainment of it,) what meaning can be drawn from the words, “If you shall cleave,” &c. whether we read consent, or the word now proposed? In the preceding speech, though he affects not to think of it, he yet clearly marks out to Banquo what it is that is the object of the mysterious words which we are now considering: “Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, “We would spend it in some words upon that business;” i. e. “upon the prophecy of the weird sisters, [that I should be thane of Cawdor, and afterwards king,] which, as you observe, has been in part fulfilled, and which by the kindness of fortune may at some future time be in the whole accomplished.” I do not suppose that Macbeth means to give Banquo the most distant hint of his having any intention to murder Duncan; but merely to state to him, that if he will strenuously endeavour to promote his satisfaction or content, if he will espouse his cause, and support him against all adversaries, whenever he shall be seated on the throne of Scotland, by whatever mysterious operation of fate that event may be brought about, such a conduct shall be rewarded, shall make honour for Banquo. The word content admits of this interpretation, and is supported by several other passages in our author's plays; the word consent, in my apprehension, affords here no meaning whatsoever. Consent or concent may certainly signify harmony, and, in a metaphorical sense, that union which binds to each other a party or number of men, leagued together for a particular purpose; but it can no more signify, as I conceive, the party, or body of men so combined together, or the cause for which they are united, than the harmony produced by a number of musical instruments can signify the instruments themselves, or the musicians that play upon them. When Fairfax, in his translation of Tasso, says— “Birds, winds, and waters, sing with sweet concent,” we must surely understand by the word concent, not a party, or a cause, but harmony, or union; and in the latter sense, I apprehend, Justice Shallow's servants are said to flock together in concent, in The Second Part of King Henry IV. If this correction be just, “In seeking to augment it,” in Banquo's reply, may perhaps relate, not to his own honour, but to Macbeth's content. “On condition that I lose no honour, in seeking to increase your satisfaction, or content,—to gratify your wishes,” &c. The words, however, may be equally commodiously interpreted,—“Provided that in seeking an increase of honour, I lose none,” &c. Sir William D'Avenant's paraphrase on this obscure passage is as follows: “If when the prophecy begins to look like, you will “Adhere to me, it shall make honour for you.” Malone.

Note return to page 183 4&lblank; when my drink is ready,] See note on “their possets,” in the next scene, p. 103. Steevens.

Note return to page 184 5And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood,] Though dudgeon sometimes signifies a dagger, it more properly means the haft or handle of a dagger, and is used for that particular sort of handle which has some ornament carved on the top of it. Junius explains the dudgeon, i. e. haft, by the Latin expression, manubrium apiatum, which means a handle of wood with a grain rough as if the seeds of parsley were strown over it. Thus, in the concluding page of the Dedication to Stanyhurst's Virgil, 1583: “Well fare thee haft with thee dudgeon dagger!” Again, in Lyly's comedy of Mother Bombie, 1594: “&lblank; then have at the bag with the dudgeon hafte, that is, at the dudgeon dagger that hangs by his tantony pouch.” In Soliman and Perseda is the following passage: “&lblank; Typhon me no Typhons, “But swear upon my dudgeon dagger.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix: “I am too well ranked, Asinius, to be stabb'd with his dudgeon wit.” Again, in Skialetheia, a collection of Epigrams, Satires, &c. 1598: “A dudgin dagger that's new scowr'd and glast.” Steevens. Gascoigne confirms this: “The most knottie piece of box may be wrought to a fayre doogen hafte.” Gouts, for drops, is frequent in old English. Farmer. “&lblank; gouts of blood.” Or drops, French. Pope. Gouts is the technical term for the spots on some part of the plumage of a hawk: or perhaps Shakspeare used the word in allusion to a phrase in heraldry. When a field is charged or sprinkled with red drops, it is said to be gutty of gules, or gutty de sang. The same word occurs also in The Art of Good Lyving and Good Deyng, 1503: “Befor the jugement all herbys shal sweyt read goutys of water, as blood.” Steevens.

Note return to page 185 7&lblank; Now o'er the one half world Nature seems dead,] That is, ‘over our hemisphere all action and motion seem to have ceased.’ This image, which is, perhaps, the most striking that poetry can produce, has been adopted by Dryden, in his Conquest of Mexico: “All things are hush'd as Nature's self lay dead, “The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head; “The little birds in dreams their songs repeat, “And sleeping flow'rs beneath the night dews sweat. “Even lust and envy sleep!” These lines, though so well known, I have transcribed, that the contrast between them and this passage of Shakspeare may be more accurately observed. Night is described by two great poets, but one describes a night of quiet, the other of perturbation. In the night of Dryden, all the disturbers of the world are laid asleep; in that of Shakspeare, nothing but sorcery, lust, and murder, is awake. He that reads Dryden, finds himself lulled with serenity, and disposed to solitude and contemplation. He that peruses Shakspeare, looks round alarmed, and starts to find himself alone. One is the night of a lover; the other, of a murderer. Johnson. Perhaps Sir Philip Sidney had the honour of suggesting the last image in Dryden's description: “Night hath clos'd all in her cloke, “Twinkling starres love-thoughts provoke; “Daunger hence good care doth keepe; “Jealousie itselfe dooth sleepe.” England's Helicon, edit. 1600, p. 1. Steevens. “&lblank; Now o'er the one half world,” &c. So, in the second part of Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602: “'Tis yet dead night; yet all the earth is clutch'd “In the dull leaden hand of snoring sleep: “No breath disturbs the quiet of the air, “No spirit moves upon the breast of earth, “Save howling dogs, night-crows, and screeching-owls, “Save meagre ghosts, Piero, and black thoughts. “&lblank; I am great in blood, “Unequal'd in revenge:—you horrid scouts “That sentinel swart night, give loud applause “From your large palms.” Malone.

Note return to page 186 8The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates &lblank;] The word now has been added [by Rowe] for the sake of metre. Probably Shakspeare wrote: “The curtain'd sleeper.” The folio spells the word sleepe, and an addition of the letter r only, affords the proposed emendation. Milton has transplanted this image into his Masque at Ludlow Castle, v. 554: “&lblank; steeds “That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's emendation of “the curtain'd sleeper,” is well intitled to a place in the text. It is clearly Shakspeare's own word. Ritson. So afterwards: “&lblank; a hideous trumpet calls to parley “The sleepers of the house.” Now was added by Sir William D'Avenant, in his alteration of this play, published in 1674. Malone.

Note return to page 187 9&lblank; thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.] The old copy—sides. Steevens. Mr. Pope changed sides to strides. Malone. A ravishing stride is an action of violence, impetuosity, and tumult, like that of a savage rushing on his prey; whereas the poet is here attempting to exhibit an image of secrecy and caution, of anxious circumspection and guilty timidity, the stealthy pace of a ravisher creeping into the chamber of a virgin, and of an assassin approaching the bed of him whom he proposes to murder, without awaking him; these he describes as “moving like ghosts,” whose progression is so different from strides, that it has been in all ages represented to be as Milton expresses it: “Smooth sliding without step.” This hemistich will afford the true reading of this place, which is, I think, to be corrected thus: “&lblank; and wither'd murder “&lblank; thus with his stealthy pace, “With Tarquin ravishing, slides tow'rds his design, “Moves like a ghost.” Tarquin is, in this place, the general name of a ravisher, and the sense is: ‘Now is the time in which every one is asleep, but those who are employed in wickedness; the witch who is sacrificing to Hecate, and the ravisher, and the murderer, who, like me, are stealing upon their prey.’ When the reading is thus adjusted, he wishes, with great propriety, in the following lines, that the earth may not hear his steps. Johnson. I cannot agree with Dr. Johnson that a stride is always an action of violence, impetuosity, or tumult. Spenser uses the word in his Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. viii. and with no idea of violence annexed to it: “With easy steps so soft as foot could stride.” And as an additional proof that a stride is not always a tumultuous effort, the following instance, from Harrington's translation of Ariosto, [1591,] may be brought: “He takes a long and leisurable stride,   “And longest on the hinder foot he staid; “So soft he treads, altho' his steps were wide,   “As though to tread on eggs he was afraid. “And as he goes, he gropes on either side “To find the bed,” &c. Orlando Furioso, 28th book, stanza 63. Whoever has been reduced to the necessity of finding his way about a house in the dark, must know that it is natural to take large strides, in order to feel before us whether we have a safe footing or not. The ravisher and murderer would naturally take such strides, not only on the same account, but that their steps might be fewer in number, and the sound of their feet be repeated as seldom as possible. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's observation is confirmed by many instances that occur in our ancient poets. So, in a passage by J. Sylvester, cited in England's Parnassus, 1600: “Anon he stalketh with an easy stride, “By some clear river's lillie-paved side.” Again, in our author's King Richard II.: “Nay rather every tedious stride I make &lblank;.” Thus also the Roman poets: &lblank; vestigia furtim Suspenso digitis fert taciturna gradu. Ovid. Fasti.   Eunt taciti per mæsta silentia magnis   Passibus. Statius, lib. x. “With Tarquin's ravishing,” &c. The justness of this similitude is not very obvious. But a stanza, in his poem of Tarquin and Lucrece, will explain it: “Now stole upon the time the dead of night, “When heavy sleep had clos'd up mortal eyes; “No comfortable star did lend his light, “No noise but owls' and wolves' dead-boding cries; “Now serves the season that they may surprise “The silly lambs. Pure thoughts are dead and still, “While lust and murder wake, to stain and kill.” Warburton.

Note return to page 188 1&lblank; Thou sure and firm-set earth,] The old copy—“Thou sowre,” &c. which, though an evident corruption, directs us to the reading I have ventured to substitute in its room. So, in Act IV. Sc. III.: “Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 189 2&lblank; which way they walk,] The folio reads: “&lblank; which they may walk &lblank;.” Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 190 3Thy very stones prate of my where-about,] The following passage in a play which has been frequently mentioned, and which Langbaine says was very popular in the time of Queen Elizabeth, A Warning for Faire Women, 1599, perhaps suggested this thought: “Mountains will not suffice to cover it, “Cimmerian darknesse cannot shadow it, “Nor any policy wit hath in store, “Cloake it so cunningly, but at the last, “If nothing else, yet will the very stones “That lie within the street, cry out for vengeance, “And point at us to be the murderers.” Yet the thought may have been derived immediately from Scripture. See St. Luke, ix. 40; and Habakkuk, xi. 10, 11. Malone. So, as Dr. Farmer observes, in Churchyard's Choice: “The stepps I tread, shall tell me my offence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 191 4And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.] i. e. lest the noise from the stones take away from this midnight season that present horror which suits so well with what is going to be acted in it. What was the horror he means? Silence, than which nothing can be more horrid to the perpetrator of an atrocious design. This shows a great knowledge of human nature. Warburton. Whether to “take horror from the time” means not rather to catch it as communicated, than to deprive the time of horror, deserves to be considered. Johnson. The latter is surely the true meaning. Macbeth would have nothing break through the universal silence that added such a horror to the night, as suited well with the bloody deed he was about to perform. Mr. Burke, in his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, observes, that “all general privations are great, because they are all terrible;” and, with other things, he gives silence as an instance, illustrating the whole by that remarkable passage in Virgil, where, amidst all the images of terror that could be united, the circumstance of silence is particularly dwelt upon: Dii quibus imperium est animarum, umbræque silentes, Et Chaos et Phlegethon, loca nocte tacentia late. When Statius, in the fifth book of the Thebaid, describes the Lemnian massacre, his frequent notice of the silence and solitude, both before and after the deed, is striking in a wonderful degree: Conticuere domus, &c. and when the same poet enumerates the terrors to which Chiron had familiarized his pupil, he subjoins— &lblank; nec ad vastæ trepidare silentia sylvæ. Achilleid, ii. 391. Again, when Tacitus describes the distress of the Roman army, under Cæcina, he concludes by observing, “&lblank; ducemque terruit, dira quies.” See Annal. i. lxv. In all the preceding passages, as Pliny remarks, concerning places of worship, silentia ipsa adoramus. Steevens. In confirmation of Steevens's ingenious note on this passage, it may be observed, that one of the circumstances of horror enumerated by Macbeth is,—“Nature seems dead.” M. Mason. So also, in the second Æneid: &lblank; vestigia retro Observata sequor per noctem, et lumine lustro. Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent. Dryden's well-known lines, which exposed him to so much ridicule, “An horrid stillness first invades the ear, “And in that silence we the tempest hear,” show, that he had the same idea of the awfulness of silence as our poet. Malone.

Note return to page 192 5&lblank; Whiles I threat, he lives; Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.] Here is evidently a false concord; but it must not be corrected, for it is necessary to the rhyme. Nor is this the only place in which Shakspeare has sacrificed grammar to rhyme. In Cymbeline, the song in Cloten's serenade runs thus: “Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,   “And Phœbus 'gins to rise, “His steeds to water at those springs   “On chalic'd flowers that lies.” And Romeo says to Friar Lawrence: “&lblank; both our remedies “Within thy help and holy physick lies.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 193 6&lblank; the bell invites me.] So, in Cymbeline: “The time inviting thee?” Steevens.

Note return to page 194 7&lblank; it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.] Thus Raleigh, speaking of love, in England's Helicon, 4to. 1600: “It is perhaps that sauncing bell, “That toules all into heauen or hell.” Sauncing is probably a mistake for sacring, or saints' bell; originally, perhaps, written (with the Saxon genitive) saintis bell. In Hudibras (as Mr. Ritson observes to me) we find “The only saints' bell that rings all in.” Steevens. Saunce bell (still so called at Oxford) is the small bell which hangs in the window of a church tower, and is always rung when the clergyman enters the church, and also at funerals. In some places it is called tolling all in, i. e. into church. Harris.

Note return to page 195 8It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night.] Shakspeare has here improved on an image he probably found in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. vi. 27: “&lblank; The native belman of the night, “The bird that warned Peter of his fall, “First rings his silver bell t' each sleepy wight.” Steevens. “It was the owl that shriek'd; the fatal bellman.” So, in King Richard III.: “Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death!” Malone.

Note return to page 196 9&lblank; the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores:] i. e. By going to sleep, they trifle and make light of the trust reposed in them, that of watching by their king. So, in Othello: “O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love.” Malone.

Note return to page 197 1&lblank; their possets,] It appears from this passage, as well as from many others in our old dramatick performances, that it was the general custom to eat possets just before bed-time. So, in the first part of King Edward IV. by Heywood: “&lblank; thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a bag-pudding; and my daughter Nell shall pop a posset upon thee when thou goest to bed.” Macbeth has already said: “Go bid thy mistress when my drink is ready, “She strike upon the bell.” Lady Macbeth has also just observed— “That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:” And in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Quickly promises Jack Rugby a posset at night. This custom is also mentioned by Froissart. Steevens. Posset, says Randle Holmes in his Academy of Armoury, b. iii. p. 84, is “hot milk poured on ale or sack having sugar, grated bisket, and eggs, with other ingredients boiled in it, which goes all to a curd.” Malone.

Note return to page 198 2&lblank; death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live, or die.] Of this image our ancient writers were peculiarly fond. Thus again, in Twine's translation of the story of Prince Appollyn: “Death strived with life within her, and the conflict was daungerous and doubtfull who should preuaile.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; thy blood and virtue “Contend for empire in thee.” Steevens. Again, ibid: “&lblank; Nature and sickness “Debate it at their leisure.” Malone.

Note return to page 199 3&lblank; Hark!—I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them.] Compare Euripides,—Orestes, v. 1291—where Electra stands centinel at the door of the palace, while Orestes is within for the purpose of murdering Helen. The dread of a surprize, and eagerness for the business, make Electra conclude that the deed must be done ere time enough had elapsed for attempting it. She listens with anxious impatience; and hearing nothing, expresses strong fears lest the daggers should have failed. Read the whole passage. S. W.

Note return to page 200 4&lblank; Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't.] This is very artful. For, as the poet has drawn the lady and her husband, it would be thought the act should have been done by her. It is likewise highly just; for though ambition had subdued in her all the sentiments of nature towards present objects, yet the likeness of one past, which she had been accustomed to regard with reverence, made her unnatural passions, for a moment, give way to the sentiments of instinct and humanity. Warburton. The same circumstance, on a similar occasion, is introduced by Statius, in the fifth book of his Thebaid, v. 236: Ut vero Alcimeden etiamnum in murmure truncos Ferre patris vultus, et egentem sanguinis ensem Conspexi, riguere comæ, atque in viscera sævus Horror iit. Meus ille Thoas, mea dira videri Dextra mihi. Extemplo thalamis turbata paternis Inferor. Thoas was the father of Hypsipyle, the speaker. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 5This is a sorry sight.] This expression might have been borrowed from Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. i. st. 14: “To whom as they approched, they espide “A sorie sight as ever seene with eye; “A heedlesse ladie lying him beside, “In her own bloud all wallow'd woefully.” Whalley.

Note return to page 202 6As they had seen me,] i. e. as if. So, in The Winter's Tale: “As we are mock'd with art.” Steevens.

Note return to page 203 7Listening their fear.] i. e. Listening to their fear, the particle omitted. This is common in our author. Thus, in Julius Cæsar, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; and now, Octavius, “Listen great things.” Contemporary writers took the same liberty. So, in The World Toss'd at Tennis, by Middleton and Rowley, 1620: “Listen the plaints of thy poor votaries.” Again, in Lyly's Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600: “There, in rich seats, all wrought of ivory, “The Graces sit, listening the melody “Of warbling birds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 204 8When they did say, God bless us.] The words—did say, which render this hemistich too long to unite with the next in forming a verse, persuade me that the passage originally ran thus: “&lblank; I could not say, amen, “When they, God bless us.” i. e. when they could say God bless us. Could say, in the second line, was left to be understood; as before— “&lblank; and, Amen, the other:” i. e. the other cried Amen. But the players, having no idea of the latter ellipsis, supplied the syllables that destroy the measure. Steevens. The measure would not be very correct even with this alteration. Boswell.

Note return to page 205 9&lblank; the ravell'd sleave of care,] Sleave signifies the “ravelled knotty part of the silk, which gives great trouble and embarrassment to the knitter or weaver.” Heath. Drayton, a poet of Shakspeare's age, has likewise alluded to sleaved or ravelled silk, in his Quest of Cynthia: “At length I on a fountain light, “Whose brim with pinks was platted, “The banks with daffadillies dight, “With grass, like sleave, was matted.” Langton. Sleave is properly silk which has not been twisted. It is mentioned in Holinshed's History of England, p. 835: “Eight wild men all apparelled in green moss made with sleved silk.” Again, in The Muses' Elizium, by Drayton: “&lblank; thrumb'd with grass “As soft as sleave or sarcenet ever was.” Again, ibid.: “That in the handling feels as soft as any sleave.” Steevens. Sleave appears to have signified coarse, soft, unwrought silk. Seta grossolana, Ital. See also, Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Sfilazza. Any kind of ravelled stuffe, or sleave silk.”—“Capitone, a kind of coarse silk, called sleave silke.” Cotgrave, in his Dict. 1612, renders soye flosche, “sleave silk.” See also, ibid.: “Cadarce, pour faire capiton. The tow, or coarsest part of silke, whereof sleave is made.”—In Troilus and Cressida we have— “Thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk.” Malone. Ravelled means entangled. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Thurio says to Proteus, speaking of Sylvia— “Therefore as you unwind her love from him, “Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, “You must provide to bottom it on me.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 206 1The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, &c.] In this encomium upon sleep, amongst the many appellations which are given it, significant of its beneficence and friendliness to life, we find one which conveys a different idea, and by no means agrees with the rest, which is—“The death of each day's life.” I make no question but Shakspeare wrote— “The birth of each day's life.” The true characteristick of sleep, which repairs the decays of labour, and assists that returning vigour which supplies the next day's activity. Warburton. “The death of each day's life,” means ‘the end of each day's labour, the conclusion of all that bustle and fatigue that each day's life brings with it.’ Thus also Chapman, in his version of the nineteenth Iliad: “But none can live without the death of sleep.” Steevens. “Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, “The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, “Balm of hurt minds.” Is it not probable that Shakspeare remembered the following verses in Sir Philip Sydney's Astrophel and Stella, a poem, from which he has quoted a line in The Merry Wives of Windsor? “Come sleepe, O sleepe, the certain knot of peace, “The bathing place of wits, the balm of woe, “The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, “The indifferent judge between the high and low.” So also, in The Famous Historie of George Lord Fauconbridge, &c. bl. l. “Yet sleep, the comforter of distressed minds, could not lock up her eyes.” Again, in Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. viii. 1587: “&lblank; At such a time as folkes are wont to find release “Of cares that all the day before were working in their heds, “By sleep,” &c. Again, ibid. b. xi.: “O sleepe, quoth she, the rest of things, O gentlest of the goddess, “Sweet sleepe, the peace of mind, with whom crookt care is aye at odds; “Which cherishest men's weary limbs appall'd with toyling sore, “And makest them as fresh to worke, and lustie as before.” The late Mr. Gray had perhaps our author's “death of each day's life” in his thoughts, when he wrote— “The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.” Malone. He might as probably have thought on the following passage in the first scene of The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; a sullen bell “Remember'd knolling a departed friend.” Steevens.

Note return to page 207 2Chief nourisher in life's feast;] So, in Chaucer's Squiere's Tale, v. 10,661; Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition: “The norice of digestion, the slepe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 208 3Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!] This triple menace, accommodated to the different titles of Macbeth, is too quaint to be received as the natural ebullition of a guilty mind. Introduce the adjuncts of a modern nobleman in the same manner, and the fault of the passage will become yet more conspicuous: as for instance— “Norfolk hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Surrey “Shall sleep no more, Howard shall sleep no more!” Steevens. ‘Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore my lately-acquired dignity can afford no comfort to one who suffers the agony of remorse,—Cawdor shall sleep no more: Nothing can restore to me that peace of mind which I enjoyed in a comparatively humbler state; the once innocent and honourable Macbeth shall sleep no more.’ If this be, as I trust it is, a fair exposition of this passage, there is no ground for Mr. Steevens's sarcastick pleasantry. Boswell.

Note return to page 209 4Give me the daggers.] So, in Soliman and Perseda: “What, durst thou not? give me the dagger then.” Malone.

Note return to page 210 5&lblank; 'tis the eye of childhood, That fears a painted devil.] So, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils.” Steevens.

Note return to page 211 6&lblank; gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.] Could Shakspeare mean to play upon the similitude of gild and guilt? Johnson. This quibble too frequently occurs in the old plays. A few instances (for I could produce a dozen at least) may suffice: “Cand. You have a silver beaker of my wife's? “Flu. You say not true, 'tis gilt. “Cand. Then you say true:— “And being gilt, the guilt lies more on you.” Again, in Middleton's comedy of A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “Though guilt condemns, 'tis gilt must make us glad.” And, lastly, from Shakspeare himself, Henry IV. Part II.: “England shall double gild his treble guilt.” Again, in King Henry V.: “Have for the gilt of France, O guilt indeed!” Steevens.

Note return to page 212 6Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood, &c.] Suscipit, ô Gelli quantum non ultima Tethys,   Nec genitor nympharum abluit oceanus. Catullus in Gellium, 83. &grO;&grisc;&grm;&gra;&gri; &grg;&grag;&grr; &gro;&grusa;&grt; &gras;&grn; &GRIra;&grs;&grt;&grr;&gro;&grn; &gro;&grusa; &grt;&gre; &grF;&grac;&grs;&gri;&grn; &gra;&grn; &grN;&gria;&gry;&gra;&gri; &grk;&gra;&grq;&gra;&grr;&grm;&grwc; &grt;&grh;&grn;&grd;&gre; &grt;&grhg;&grn; &grs;&grt;&grea;&grg;&grh;&grn;. Sophoc. Oedip. Quis eluet me Tanais? aut quæ barbaris Mæotis undis Pontico incumbens mari? Non ipse toto magnus oceano pater Tantum expiarit sceleris! Senec. Hippol. Again, in one of Hall's Satires: “If Trent or Thames &lblank;” &c. Steevens. Non, si Neptuni fluctu renovare operam des; Non, mare si totum velit eluere omnibus undis. Lucret, l. vi. v. 1074. Holt White. So, in The Insatiate Countess, by Marston, 1613: “Although the waves of all the northern sea “Should flow for ever through these guilty hands, “Yet the sanguinolent stain would extant be.” Malone.

Note return to page 213 7The multitudinous seas incarnardine,] To incarnardine is to stain any thing of a flesh colour, or red. Carnardine is the old term for carnation. So, in a comedy called Any Thing for a Quiet Life: “Grograms, sattins, velvet fine, “The rosy-colour'd carnardine.” Steevens. Shakspeare's word may be exemplified from Carew's Obsequies to the Lady Anne Hay: “One shall ensphere thine eyes; another shall “Impearl thy teeth; a third, thy white and small “Hand shall besnow; a fourth, incarnardine “Thy rosy cheek.” Wakefield. By the multitudinous seas, perhaps, the poet meant, not the seas of every denomination, as the Caspian, &c. (as some have thought,) nor the many-coloured seas, (as others contend,) but the seas which swarm with myriads of inhabitants. Thus Homer: &grP;&groa;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grn; &gres;&grp;&grap; &grI;&grX;&grQ;&grU;&grO;&grE;&grN;&grT;&grA; &grf;&gria;&grl;&grw;&grn; &gras;&grp;&graa;&grn;&gre;&gru;&grq;&gre; &grf;&grea;&grr;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gri;&grn;. The word is used by Ben Jonson, and by Thomas Decker, in The Wonderful Year, 1603, in which we find “the multitudinous spawn.” It is objected, by Mr. Kenrick, that Macbeth, in his present disposition of mind, would hardly have adverted to a property of the sea, which has so little relation to the object immediately before him; and if Macbeth had really spoken this speech in his castle of Inverness, the remark would be just. But the critick should have remembered, that this speech is not the real effusion of a distempered mind, but the composition of Shakspeare; of that poet, who has put a circumstantial account of an apothecary's shop into the mouth of Romeo, the moment after he has heard the fatal news of his beloved Juliet's death; and has made Othello, when in the anguish of his heart he determines to kill his wife, digress from the object which agitates his soul, to describe minutely the course of the Pontick sea. Mr. Steevens objects, in the following note, to this explanation, thinking it more probable that Shakspeare should refer “to some visible quality in the ocean,” than “to its concealed inhabitants;” “to the waters that might admit of discoloration,” than “to the fishes whose hue could suffer no change from the tinct of blood.” But in what page of our author do we find his allusions thus curiously rounded, and complete in all their parts? Or, rather, does not every page of these volumes furnish us with images, crouded on each other, that are not naturally connected, and sometimes are even discordant? Hamlet's proposing to take up arms against a sea of troubles is a well known example of this kind, and twenty others might be produced. Our author certainly alludes to the waters, which are capable of discoloration, and not to the fishes. His allusion to the waters is expressed by the word seas; to which, if he has added an epithet that has no very close connection with the subject immediately before him, he has only followed his usual practice. If, however, no allusion was intended to the myriads of inhabitants with which the deep is peopled, I believe, by the multitudinous seas, was meant, not the many-waved ocean, as is suggested, but “the countless masses of waters wherever dispersed on the surface of the globe;” the multitudes of seas, as Heywood has it, in a passage quoted below, that perhaps our author remembered: and, indeed, it must be owned, that his having the plural, seas, seems to countenance such an interpretation; for the singular, sea, is equally suited to the epithet multitudinous, in the sense of &gri;&grx;&grq;&gru;&gro;&gre;&grn;&grt;&gra;, and would certainly have corresponded better with the subsequent line. Malone. I believe that Shakspeare referred to some visible quality in the ocean, rather than to its concealed inhabitants; to the waters that might admit of discoloration, and not to the fishes, whose hue could suffer no change from the tinct of blood. Waves appearing over waves are no unapt symbol of a croud. “A sea of heads” is a phrase employed by one of our legitimate poets, but by which of them I do not at present recollect. Blackmore, in his Job, has swelled the same idea to a ridiculous bulk: “A waving sea of heads was round me spread, “And still fresh streams the gazing deluge fed.” He who beholds an audience from the stage, or any other multitude gazing on any particular object, must perceive that their heads are raised over each other, velut unda supervenit undam. If, therefore, our author, by the “multitudinous sea,” does not mean the aggregate of seas, he must be understood to design the “multitude of waves,” or “the waves that have the appearance of a multitude.” In Coriolanus we have—“the many-headed multitude.” Steevens.

Note return to page 214 8Making the green—one red.] The same thought occurs in The Downfal of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “He made the green sea red with Turkish blood.” Again: “The multitudes of seas died red with blood.” Another, not unlike it, is found in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. x. st. 48: “The whiles with blood they all the shore did stain, “And the grey ocean into purple dye.” Again, in the 19th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “And the vast greenish sea discolour'd like to blood.” Steevens. The same thought is also found in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher, 1634: “Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turn'd “Green Neptune into purple.” The present passage is one of those alluded to in a note at the end of As You Like It, vol. vi. on the word quintaine, in which, I apprehend, our author's words have been refined into a sense that he never thought of. The other is in Othello: “Put out the light, and then put out the light.” The line before us, on the suggestion of the ingenious author of The Gray's-Inn Journal, has been printed in some late editions in the following manner: “Making the green—one red.” Every part of this line, as thus regulated, appears to me exceptionable. One red does not sound to my ear as the phraseology of the age of Elizabeth; and the green, for the green one, or for the green sea, is, I am persuaded, unexampled. The quaintness introduced by such a regulation seems of an entirely different colour from the quaintnesses of Shakspeare. He would have written, I have no doubt, “Making the green sea, red,” (So, in The Tempest: “And 'twixt the green sea and the azure vault “Set roaring war.”) if he had not used the word seas in the preceding line, which forced him to employ another word here. As, to prevent the ear being offended, we have, in the passage before us, “the green one,” instead of “the green sea,” so we have in King Henry VIII. Act I. Sc. II. “lame ones,” to avoid a similar repetition: “They have all new legs, and lame ones.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “A stage where every man must play a part, “And mine a sad one.” Though the punctuation of the old copy is very often faulty, yet in all doubtful cases it ought, when supported by more decisive circumstances, to have some little weight. In the present instance, the line is pointed as in my text: “Making the green one, red.” Malone. If the new punctuation be dismissed, we must correct the foregoing line, and read—“the multitudinous sea; for how will the plural—seas, accord with the—green one?” Besides, the sense conveyed by the arrangement which Mr. Malone would reject, is countenanced by a passage in Hamlet: “Hath now his dread and black complexion smear'd “With heraldry more dismal; head to foot “Now is he total gules.” i. e. one red. The expression—“one red,” may also be justified by language yet more ancient than that of Shakspeare. In Genesis, ii. 24, (and several other places in scripture) we have— “one flesh.” Again, in our Liturgy:“&lblank; be made one fold under one Shepherd.” Again, in Milton's Comus, v. 133: “And makes one blot of all the air.” But, setting aside examples, are there not many unique phrases in our author? Steevens.

Note return to page 215 9My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white.] A similar antithesis is found in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, written before 1593: “Your cheeks are black, let not your soul look white.” Malone.

Note return to page 216 1To know my deed,—'twere best not know myself.] i. e. While I have the thoughts of this deed, it were best not know, or be lost to, myself. This is an answer to the lady's reproof: “&lblank; be not lost “So poorly in your thoughts.” Warburton.

Note return to page 217 2Wake Duncan with thy knocking!] Macbeth is addressing the person who knocks at the outward gate.—Sir W. D'Avenant, in his alteration of this play, reads—(and intended probably to point) “Wake, Duncan, with this knocking!” conceiving that Macbeth called upon Duncan to awake. From the same misapprehension, I once thought his emendation right; but there is certainly no need of change. Malone. See Mr. Malone's extract from Mr. Whateley's Remarks on some of the Characters of Shakspeare, at the conclusion of this tragedy. Steevens. 10Q0016

Note return to page 218 3&lblank; Ay, 'would thou could'st!] The old copy has—I; but as ay, the affirmative particle, was thus written, I conceive it to have been designed here. Had Shakspeare meant to express “I would,” he might, perhaps, only have given us—'Would, as on many other occasions.—The repentant exclamation of Macbeth, in my judgment, derives force from the present change; a change which has been repeatedly made in spelling this ancient substitute for the word of enforcement—ay, in the very play before us. If it be urged, that the line is roughen'd by the reading I would introduce, let not the following verse, in Act III. Sc. VI. of this very tragedy, be forgotten: “Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too?” Steevens.

Note return to page 219 4Scene III.] Though Shakspeare (see Sir J. Reynolds's excellent note on Act I. Sc. VI. p. 69,) might have designed this scene as another instance of what is called the repose in painting, I cannot help regarding it in a different light. A glimpse of comedy was expected by our author's audience in the most serious drama; and where else could the merriment, which he himself was always struggling after, be so happily introduced? Steevens.

Note return to page 220 5&lblank; he should have old turning the key.] i. e. frequent, more than enough. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. the Drawer says, “Then here will be old utis.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 221 6&lblank; hanged himself on the expectation of plenty:] So, in Hall's Satires, b. iv. sat. 6: “Each muckworme will be rich with lawlesse gaine, “Altho he smother up mowes of seven years graine; “And hang'd himself when corne grows cheap again.” Malone.

Note return to page 222 7&lblank; napkins enough &lblank;] i. e. handkerchiefs. So, in Othello: “Your napkin is too little.” Steevens.

Note return to page 223 8&lblank; here's an equivocator,—who committed treason enough for God's sake,] Meaning a Jesuit: an order so troublesome to the state in Queen Elizabeth and King James the First's time. The inventors of the execrable doctrine of equivocation. Warburton.

Note return to page 224 8&lblank; here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose:] The archness of the joke consists in this, that a French hose being very short and strait, a tailor must be master of his trade who could steal any thing from thence. Warburton. Dr. Warburton has said this at random. The French hose (according to Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses,) were in the year 1595, much in fashion: “The Gallic hosen are made very large and wide, reaching down to their knees only, with three or foure gardes apeece laid down along either hose.” Again, in The Ladies Privilege, 1640; “&lblank; wear their long “Parisian breeches, with five points at knees, “Whose tags, concurring with their harmonious spurs, “Afford rare music; then have they doublets “So short i' th' waist, they seem as twere begot “Upon their doublets by their cloaks, which to save stuff “Are but a year's growth longer than their skirts; “And all this magazine of device is furnish'd “By your French taylor.” Again, in The Defence of Coneycatching, 1592: “Blest be the French sleeves and breech verdingales that grants them (the tailors) leave to coney-catch so mightily.” Steevens. When Mr. Steevens censured Dr. Warburton in this place, he forgot the uncertainty of French fashions. In The Treasury of ancient and modern Times, 1613, we have an account (from Guyon, I suppose,) of the old French dresses: “Mens hose answered in length to their short-skirted doublets; being made close to their limbes, wherein they had no meanes for pockets.” And Withers, in his Satyr against Vanity, ridicules “the spruze, diminitive, neat, Frenchman's hose.” Farmer. From the following passages in The Scornful Lady, by Beaumont and Fletcher, which appeared about the year 1613, it may be collected that large breeches were then in fashion: Saville. [an old steward.] “A comelier wear, I wis, than your dangling slops.” Afterwards Young Loveless says to the steward,—“This is as plain as your old minikin breeches.” Malone.

Note return to page 225 9&lblank; the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire.] So, in Hamlet: “Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; the flowery way that leads, &c. to the great fire.” Chaucer also, in his Persone's Tale, calls idleness “the greene path-way to hell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 226 1&lblank; till the second cock:] Cockcrowing. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock.” Again, in The Twelfth Mery Ieste of the Widow Edith, 1573: “The time they pas merely til ten of the clok, “Yea, and I shall not lye, till after the first cok.” Steevens. It appears, from a passage in Romeo and Juliet, that Shakspeare, means, that they were carousing till three o'clock: “&lblank; The second cock has crow'd; “The curfew-bell has toll'd: 'tis three o'clock.” Malone.

Note return to page 227 2&lblank; in a sleep,] Surely we should read—into a sleep, or— into sleep. M. Mason. The old reading is the true one. Our author frequently uses in for into. So, in King Richard III.: “But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave.” Again, ibid.: “Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.” Steevens.

Note return to page 228 3I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night.] It is not very easy to ascertain precisely the time when Duncan is murdered. The conversation that passes between Banquo and Macbeth, in the first scene of this Act, might lead us to suppose that when Banquo retired to rest it was not much after twelve o'clock: “Ban. How goes the night, boy? “Fle. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. “Ban. And she goes down at twelve. “Fle. I take't 'tis later sir.” The King was then “abed;” and immediately after Banquo retires Lady Macbeth strikes upon the bell, and Macbeth commits the murder. In a few minutes afterwards the knocking at the gate commences, (end of Sc. II.) and no time can be supposed to elapse between the second and the third scene, because the Porter gets up in consequence of the knocking: yet here Macduff talks of last night, and says that he was commanded to call timely on the King, and that he fears he has almost overpass'd the hour; and the Porter tells him “we were carousing till the second cock;” so that we must suppose it to be now at least six o'clock; for Macduff has already expressed his surprize that the Porter should lie so late. From Lady Macbeth's words in the fifth Act,—“One—two— 'tis time to do't,”—it should seem that the murder was committed at two o'clock, and that hour is certainly not inconsistent with the conversation above quoted between Banquo and his son; for we are not told how much later than twelve it was when Banquo retired to rest: but even that hour of two will not correspond with what the Porter and Macduff say in the present scene. I suspect our author, (who is seldom very exact in his computation of time,) in fact meant, that the murder should be supposed to be committed a little before day-break, which exactly corresponds with the speech of Macduff now before us, though not so well with the other circumstances already mentioned, or with Lady Macbeth's desiring her husband to put on his nightgown, (that he might have the appearance of one newly roused from bed,) lest occasion should call them, “and show them to be watchers;” which may signify persons who sit up late at night, but can hardly mean those who do not go to bed till daybreak. Shakspeare, I believe, was led to fix the time of Duncan's murder near the break of day by Holinshed's account of the murder of King Duffe, already quoted: “he was long in his oratorie, and there continued till it was late in the night.” Donwald's servants, “enter the chamber where the king laie, a little before cocks crow, where they secretlie cut his throat.” Donwald himself sat up with the officers of the guard the whole of the night. Malone.

Note return to page 229 4&lblank; I made a shift to cast him.] To cast him up, to ease my stomach of him. The equivocation is between cast or throw, as a term of wrestling, and cast or cast up. Johnson. I find a similar play upon words, in an old comedy, entitled, The Two Angry Women of Abington, printed 1599: “&lblank; to-night he's a good huswife, he reels all that he wrought to-day, and he were good now to play at dice, for he casts excellent well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 230 5The labour we delight in, physicks pain.] i. e. affords a cordial to it. So, in The Winter's Tale, Act I. Sc. I.: “It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physicks the subject, makes old hearts fresh.” Steevens. So, in The Tempest: “There be some sports are painful; and their labour “Delight in them sets off.” Malone.

Note return to page 231 6For 'tis my limited service.] Limited, for appointed. Warburton. So, in Timon: “&lblank; for there is boundless theft, “In limited professions.” i. e. professions to which people are regularly and legally appointed. Steevens.

Note return to page 232 7Goes the king From hence to-day?] I have supplied the preposition— from, for the sake of metre. So, in a former scene, Duncan says, “&lblank; From hence to Inverness,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 233 8He does:—he did appoint so.] The words—he does—are omitted by Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, and Warburton. But perhaps Shakspeare designed Macbeth to shelter himself under an immediate falshood, till a sudden recollection of guilt restrained his confidence, and unguardedly disposed him to qualify his assertion; as he well knew the King's journey was effectually prevented by his death. A similar trait had occurred in a former scene: “L. M. And when goes hence? “M. To-morrow,—as he purposes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 234 9&lblank; strange screams of death; And prophecying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion, and confus'd events, New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour'd the live-long night: some say, the earth Was feverous, and did shake.] These lines, I think, should be rather regulated thus: “&lblank; prophecying with accents terrible, “Of dire combustion and confus'd events. “New-hatch'd to the woeful time, the obscure bird “Clamour'd the live-long night. Some say, the earth “Was feverous and did shake.” A prophecy of an event new-hatch'd seems to be a prophecy of an event past. And a prophecy new-hatch'd is a wry expression. The term new-hatch'd is properly applicable to a bird, and that birds of ill omen should be new-hatch'd to the woeful time, that is, should appear in uncommon numbers, is very consistent with the rest of the prodigies here mentioned, and with the universal disorder into which nature is described as thrown by the perpetration of this horrid murder. Johnson. I think Dr. Johnson's regulation of these lines is improper. Prophecying is what is new-hatch'd, and in the metaphor holds the place of the egg. The events are the fruit of such hatching. Steevens. I think Steevens has justly explained this passage, but should wish to read—prophecyings in the plural. M. Mason. Dr. Johnson observes, that “a prophecy of an event new-hatch'd seems to be a prophecy of an event past. And a prophecy new-hatch'd is a wry expression.” The construction suggested by Mr. Steevens meets with the first objection. Yet the following passage in which the same imagery is found, inclines me to believe that our author meant, that new-hatch'd should be referred to events, though the events were yet to come. Allowing for his usual inaccuracy with respect to the active and passive participle, the events may be said to be “the hatch and brood of time.” See King Henry IV. Part II.: “The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, “With a near aim, of the main chance of things “As yet not come to life; which in their seeds “And weak beginnings lie entreasured. “Such things become the hatch and brood of time.” Here certainly it is the thing or event, and not the prophecy, which is the hatch of time; but it must be acknowledged, the word “become” sufficiently marks the future time. If therefore the construction that I have suggested be the true one, hatch'd must be here used for hatching, or “in the state of being hatch'd.”—“To the woeful time,” means—to suit the woeful time. Malone. “&lblank; some say, the earth “Was feverous, and did shake.” So, in Coriolanus:   “&lblank; as if the world   “Was feverous, and did tremble.” Steevens.

Note return to page 235 1&lblank; Tongue, nor heart, Cannot conceive, &c.] The use of the two negatives, not to make an affirmative, but to deny more strongly, is very common in our author. So, in Julius Cæsar, Act III. Sc. I.: “&lblank; there is no harm “Intended to your person, nor to no Roman else.” Steevens.

Note return to page 236 2&lblank; this horror!] Here the old copy adds—Ring the bell. Steevens. The subsequent hemistich—“What's the business?”—which completes the metre of the preceding line, without the words “Ring the bell,” affords, in my opinion, a strong presumptive proof that these words were only a marginal direction. It should be remembered that the stage directions were formerly often couched in imperative terms: “Draw a knife;” “Play musick;” “Ring the bell:” &c. In the original copy we have here indeed also—Bell rings, as a marginal direction; but this was inserted, I imagine, from the players misconceiving what Shakspeare had in truth set down in his copy as a dramatick direction to the property-man, (“Ring the bell.”) for a part of Macduff's speech; and, to distinguish the direction which they inserted, from the supposed words of the speaker, they departed from the usual imperative form. Throughout the whole of the preceding scene we have constantly an imperative direction to the prompter: “Knock within.” I suppose, it was in consequence of an imperfect recollection of this hemistich, that Mr. Pope, having, in his Preface, charged the editors of the first folio with introducing stage-directions into their author's text, in support of his assertion, quotes the following line: “My queen is murder'd:—ring the little bell.” a line that is not found in any edition of these plays that I have met with, nor, I believe, in any other book. Malone.

Note return to page 237 3&lblank; speak, speak,—] These words, which violate the metre, were probably added by the players, who were of opinion that— speak, in the following line, demanded such an introduction. Steevens.

Note return to page 238 4The repetition, in a woman's ear, Would murder as it fell.] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; He would drown the stage with tears, “And cleave the general ear with horrid speech.” Again, in The Puritan, 1607: “The punishments that shall follow you in this world, would with horrour kill the ear should hear them related.” Malone.

Note return to page 239 5What, in our house?] This is very fine. Had she been innocent, nothing but the murder itself, and not any of its aggravating circumstances, would naturally have affected her. As it was, her business was to appear highly disordered at the news. Therefore, like one who has her thoughts about her, she seeks for an aggravating circumstance, that might be supposed most to affect her personally; not considering, that by placing it there, she discovered rather a concern for herself than for the King. On the contrary, her husband, who had repented the act, and was now labouring under the horrors of a recent murder, in his exclamation, gives all the marks of sorrow for the fact itself. Warburton.

Note return to page 240 6Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time;] So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; Undone, undone! “If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd “To die when I desire.” Malone.

Note return to page 241 7&lblank; badg'd with blood,] I once thought that our author wrote bath'd; but badg'd is certainly right. So, in The Second Part of King Henry VI.: “With murder's crimson badge.” Malone.

Note return to page 242 8&lblank; their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows:] This idea, perhaps, was taken from The Man of Lawes Tale, by Chaucer, l. 5027, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit.: “And in the bed the blody knif he fond.” See also the foregoing lines. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 9&lblank; Here lay Duncan, His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;] Mr. Pope has endeavoured to improve one of these lines, by substituting goary blood for golden blood; but it may be easily admitted that he, who could, on such an occasion, talk of lacing the silver skin, would lace it with golden blood. No amendment can be made to this line, of which every word is equally faulty, but by a general blot. It is not improbable, that Shakspeare put these forced and unnatural metaphors into the mouth of Macbeth, as a mark of artifice and dissimulation, to show the difference between the studied language of hypocrisy, and the natural outcries of sudden passion. This whole speech, so considered, is a remarkable instance of judgment, as it consists entirely of antithesis and metaphor. Johnson. “His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood.” The allusion is to the decoration of the richest habits worn in the age of Shakspeare, when it was usual to lace cloth of silver with gold, and cloth of gold with silver. The second of these fashions is mentioned in Much Ado About Nothing, Act III. Sc. IV.: “Cloth of gold,—laced with silver.” To gild any thing with blood is a very common phrase in the old plays. So Heywood, in the second part of his Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; we have gilt our Greekish arms “With blood of our own nation.” Shakspeare repeats the image in King John: “Their armours that march'd hence so silver bright, “Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood.” Steevens. We meet with the same antithesis in many other places. Thus, in Much Ado About Nothing: “&lblank; to see the fish “Cut with her golden oars the silver stream.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors: “Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs.” Malone. The allusion is so ridiculous on such an occasion, that it discovers the declaimer not to be affected in the manner he would represent himself. The whole speech is an unnatural mixture of far-fetched and common-place thoughts, that shows him to be acting a part. Warburton.

Note return to page 244 1&lblank; a breach in nature, For ruin's wasteful entrance:] This comparison occurs likewise in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii.: “&lblank; battering down the wals of their armour, making breaches almost in every place, for troupes of wounds to enter.” Again, in A Herring's Tayle, a poem, 1598: “A batter'd breach where troopes of wounds may enter in.” Steevens.

Note return to page 245 2Unmannerly breech'd with gore:] The expression may mean, that the daggers were covered with blood, quite to their breeches, i. e. their hilts or handles. The lower end of a cannon is called the breech of it; and it is known that both to breech and to unbreech a gun are common terms. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Custom of the Country; “The main-spring's weaken'd that holds up his cock, “He lies to be new breech'd.” Again, in A Cure for a Cuckold, by Webster and Rowley: “Unbreech his barrel, and discharge his bullets.” Steevens. Mr. Warton has justly observed that the word unmannerly is here used adverbially. So friendly is used for friendily in King Henry IV. Part II. and faulty for faultily in As You Like It. So, in Henry VIII.: “If I have us'd myself unmannerly &lblank;.” So also Taylor the Water-poet, Works, 1630, p. 173: “These and more the like such pretty aspersions, the outcast rubbish of my company hath very liberally and unmannerly and ingratefully bestowed upon me.” A passage in the preceding scene, in which Macbeth's visionary dagger is described, strongly supports Mr. Steevens's interpretation: “&lblank; I see thee still: “And on thy blade, and dudgeon, [i. e. hilt or haft] gouts of blood, “Which was not so before.” The following lines in King Henry VI. Part III. may, perhaps, after all, form the best comment on these controverted words: “And full as oft came Edward to my side, “With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt “In blood of those that had encounter'd him.” So also, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1587: “&lblank; a naked sword he had, “That to the hilts with blood was all embrued.” Though so much has been written on this passage, the commentators have forgotten to account for the attendants of Duncan being furnished with daggers. The fact is, that in Shakspeare's time a dagger was a common weapon, and was usually carried by servants and others, suspended at their backs. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Then I will lay the serving creature's dagger on your pate.” Again, ibid.: “This dagger hath mista'en; for lo! his house “Is empty on the back of Montague, “And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!” Malone. The sense is, in plain language, “Daggers filthily—in a foul manner,—sheath'd with blood.” A scabbard is called a pilche, a leather coat, in Romeo;—but you will ask, whence the allusion of breeches? Dr. Warburton and Dr. Johnson have well observed, that this speech of Macbeth is very artfully made up of unnatural thoughts and language. In 1605, (the year in which the play appears to have been written,) a book was published by Peter Erondell, (with commendatory Poems by Daniel, and other wits of the time,) called The French Garden, or a Summer Dayes Labour; containing, among other matters, some dialogues of a dramatick cast, which, I am persuaded, our author read in the English; and from which he took, as he supposed, for his present purpose, this quaint expression. I will quote literatim from the 6th dialogue: “Boy! you do nothing but play tricks here, go fetch your master's silver-hatched daggers, you have not brushed their breeches, bring the brushes, and brush them before me.”— Shakspeare was deceived by the pointing, and evidently supposes breeches to be a new and affected term for scabbards. But had he been able to have read the French on the other page, even as a learner, he must have been set right at once: “Garçon, vous ne faites que badiner, allez querir les poignards argentez de vos maistres, vous n'avez pas espousseté leur hâut-de-chausses,’— their breeches, in the common sense of the word: as in the next sentence bas-de-chausses, stockings, and so on through all the articles of dress. Farmer.

Note return to page 246 *First folio, make's.

Note return to page 247 3Look to the lady.] Mr. Whateley, from whose ingenious remarks on this play I have already made a large extract, justly observes that, “on Lady Macbeth's seeming to faint,—while Banquo and Macduff are solicitous about her, Macbeth, by his unconcern, betrays a consciousness that the fainting is feigned.” I may add, that a bold and hardened villain would, from a refined policy, have assumed the appearance of being alarmed about her, lest this very imputation should arise against him: the irresolute Macbeth is not sufficiently at ease to act such a part. Malone.

Note return to page 248 4&lblank; here, Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole,] The oldest copy reads only “&lblank; in an augre-hole.” I have adopted the correction of the second folio—within. Mr. Malone reads— “Here, where our fate, hid in an augre-hole.” Steevens. In the old copy the word here is printed in the preceding line. The lines are disposed so irregularly in the original edition of this play, that the modern editors have been obliged to take many liberties similar to mine in the regulation of the metre. In this very speech the words our tears do not make part of the following line, but are printed in that subsequent to it. The editor of the second folio, to complete the measure, reads—within an augre-hole. A word having been accidentally omitted in King Henry V.: “&lblank; Let us die in [fight],” Mr. Theobald, with equal impropriety, reads there—“Let us die instant:” but I believe neither transcriber or compositor ever omitted half a word. Malone. More skilful and accurate compositors than those employed in our present republication, cannot easily be found; and yet, I believe, even they will not deny their having occasionally furnished examples of the omission of half a word. “&lblank; within an augre-hole.” So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; confin'd “Into an augre's bore.” Steevens.

Note return to page 249 5Nor our strong sorrow on The foot of motion.] The old copy—upon. Steevens.

Note return to page 250 6And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure,] i. e. “when we have clothed our half drest bodies, which may take cold from being exposed to the air.” It is possible that, in such a cloud of words, the meaning might escape the reader. Steevens. The Porter, in his short speech, had observed, that this “place [i. e. the court in which Banquo and the rest now are,] is too cold for hell.” Mr. Steevens's explanation is likewise supported by the following passage in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; Call the creatures, “Whose naked natures live in all the spight “Of wreakful heaven.” Malone.

Note return to page 251 7In the great hand of God I stand; and, thence, Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight Of treasonous malice.] Pretence is intention, design, a sense in which the word is often used by Shakspeare. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband, the pretence whereof being by circumstance partly laid open.” Again, in this tragedy of Macbeth: “What good could they pretend?” i. e. intend to themselves. Banquo's meaning is,—in our present state of doubt and uncertainty about this murder, I have nothing to do but to put myself under the direction of God; and, relying on his support, I here declare myself an eternal enemy to this treason, and to all its further designs that have not yet come to light. Steevens. Hand, as Mr. Upton has observed, is here used for power, or providence. So, in Psalm. xxii.: “Deliver my soul from the sword, my darling from the power [Heb. from the hand] of the dog.” In King Henry V. we have again the same expression: “&lblank; Let us deliver “Our puissance into the hand of God.” Malone.

Note return to page 252 8&lblank; the near in blood, The nearer bloody.] Meaning, that he suspected Macbeth to be the murderer; for he was the nearest in blood to the two princes, being the cousin-german of Duncan. Steevens.

Note return to page 253 9This murderous shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted;] The design to fix the murder upon some innocent person has not yet taken effect. Johnson. “The shaft is not yet lighted, and though it has done mischief in its flight, we have reason to apprehend still more before it has spent its force and falls to the ground.” The end for which the murder was committed is not yet attained. The death of the king only, could neither insure the crown to Macbeth, nor accomplish any other purpose, while his sons were yet living, who had, therefore, just reason to apprehend they should be removed by the same means. Such another thought occurs in Bussy D'Ambois, 1607: “The chain-shot of thy lust is yet aloft, “And it must murder,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 254 1&lblank; darkness does the face of earth intomb, When living light should kiss it?] After the murder of King Duffe, (says Holinshed,) “for the space of six moneths togither there appeared no sunne by day, nor moone by night, in anie part of the realme, but still was the sky covered with continual clouds; and sometimes such outrageous winds arose with lightenings and tempests, that the people were in great fear of present destruction.”—It is evident that Shakspeare had this passage in his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 255 2&lblank; in her pride of place,] Finely expressed, for confidence in its quality. Warburton. In a place of which she seemed proud;—in an elevated situation. Malone.

Note return to page 256 3&lblank; by a mousing owl &lblank;] i. e. by an owl that was hunting for mice, as her proper prey. Whalley. This is also found among the prodigies consequent on King Duffe's murder: “There was a sparhawk strangled by an owl.” Steevens. Mousing is a very effective epithet in this passage, as contrasting the falcon, in her pride of place, with a bird that was accustomed to seek its prey on the ground. Talbot.

Note return to page 257 4&lblank; minions of their race,] Theobald reads— “&lblank; minions of the race,” very probably, and very poetically. Johnson. Their is probably the true reading, the same expression being found in Romeus and Juliet, 1562, a poem which Shakspeare had certainly read: “There were two ancient stocks, which Fortune high did place “Above the rest, endew'd with wealth, the nobler of their race.” In our author's time a race of horses was the term for what is now called a stud. Thus Thomas Blundeville, in The four chiefest Offices belonging to Horsemanship: “The horses there bred [at Naples] be of so strong and healthful complexion, as they will not quaik wheresoever they go; and that they prosper so well heere in this land as in any other foraine country, not only the Queenes Majesties race, but also many other mens races, and especially Sir Nicholas Arnolds race, doth well testifie.” Malone. I prefer “minions of the race,” i. e. the favourite horses on the race-ground. Thus, in Henry IV. Part I. we have “minions of the moon.” The horses of Duncan have just been celebrated for being swift. Most of the prodigies just before mentioned are related by Holinshed, as accompanying King Duffe's death; and it is in particular asserted, “that horses of singular beauty and swiftness did eat their own flesh.” Steevens.

Note return to page 258 5What good could they pretend?] To pretend is here to propose to themselves, to set before themselves as a motive of action. Johnson. To pretend, in this instance, as in many others, is simply to intend, to design. Steevens. So, in Goulart's Histories, 1607: “The carauell arriued safe at her pretended port.” p. 575. Again, p. 586: “As for the Sclauonian captaine, he cast himselfe into the sea, meaning to swimme vnto the shelfes neere vnto the fort, where hee pretended to saue himselfe.” Ritson.

Note return to page 259 6&lblank; that wilt ravin up &lblank;] The old copy reads—will. Corrected by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 260 7&lblank; Then 'tis most like,] To complete the measure, I suppose, with Sir T. Hanmer, that our author wrote— “Why, then it is most like &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 261 8&lblank; Then 'tis most like, The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.] Macbeth, by his birth, stood next in the succession to the crown, immediately after the sons of Duncan. King Malcolm, Duncan's predecessor, had two daughters, the eldest of whom was the mother of Duncan, the youngest the mother of Macbeth. Holinshed. Steevens.

Note return to page 262 9&lblank; Colme-kill;] Colm-kill, is the famous Iona, one of the western isles, which Dr. Johnson visited, and describes in his Tour. Holinshed scarcely mentions the death of any of the ancient kings of Scotland, without taking notice of their being buried with their predecessors in Colme-kill. Steevens. It is now called Icolmkill. Kill, in the Erse language, signifies a burying-place. Malone. No: kil is a cell. See Jamieson's Dictionary in voce. Colme-kill is the cell or chapel of St. Columbo. Boswell.

Note return to page 263 1Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promis'd;] Here we have another passage, that might lead us to suppose that the thaneship of Glamis descended to Macbeth subsequent to his meeting the weird sisters, though that event had certainly taken place before. See p. 46. Malone.

Note return to page 264 2(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,) &lblank;] Shine, for prosper. Warburton. Shine, for “appear with all the lustre of conspicuous truth.” Johnson. I rather incline to Dr. Warburton's interpretation. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Sc. II.: “Heaven, and our lady gracious, hath it pleased “To shine on my contemptible estate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 265 3&lblank; a solemn supper, sir,] This was the phrase of the time. So, Sir Henry Wotton, Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, edit. 1651, p. 475: “Yesternight the Count Palatine invited all the councell to a solemn supper which was well ordered.” Malone. It was used in private life, and seems to have meant nothing more than a supper given on a regular invitation. So, Howell, in a letter to Sir Thomas Hawke, 1636: “I was invited yesternight to a solemn supper, by B. J. [Ben Jonson] where you were deeply remembered.” Boswell.

Note return to page 266 4Let your highness Command upon me;] Thus the old copy, and perhaps rightly, though modern editors have been content to read—“Lay your highness,” &c. Every uncouth phrase in an ancient author should not be suspected of corruption. In As You Like It an expression somewhat similar occurs: “And take upon command what help we have.” Steevens. The change was suggested by Sir W. D'Avenant's alteration of this play: it was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone. I should rather read lay, or set your command upon me, than let: for unless command is used as a noun, there is nothing to which the following words—“to the which”—can possibly refer. M. Mason.

Note return to page 267 5&lblank; to the which, my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie For ever knit.] So, in our author's Dedication of his Rape of Lucrece, to Lord Southampton, 1594: “What I have done is yours, being part in all I have devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show greater; mean time as it is, it is bound to your lordship.” Malone.

Note return to page 268 6&lblank; we'll take to-morrow.] Thus the old copy, and, in my opinion, rightly. Mr. Malone would read— “&lblank; we'll talk to-morrow.” Steevens. I proposed this emendation some time ago, and having since met with two other passages in which the same mistake has happened, I trust I shall be pardoned for giving it a place in my text. In King Henry V. edit. 1623, we find, “For I can take [talke] for Pistol's cock is up.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 1623, p. 31: “It is no matter for that, so she sleep not in her take.” [instead of talke, the old spelling of talk.] On the other hand, in the first scene of Hamlet, we find in the folio, 1623: “&lblank; then no planet strikes, “No fairy talkes &lblank;.” So again, in the play before us: “The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak “Our free hearts each to other.” Again, Macbeth says to his wife: “&lblank; We will speak further.” Again, in a subsequent scene between Macbeth and the assassins: “Was it not yesterday we spoke together?” In Othello we have almost the same sense, expressed in other words: “&lblank; To-morrow, with the earliest, “Let me have speech with you.” Had Shakspeare written take, he would surely have said—“but we'll take't to-morrow.” So, in the first scene of the second Act, Fleance says to his father: “I take't, 'tis later, sir.” Malone. I do not perceive the necessity of change. The poet's meaning could not be misunderstood. His end was answered, if his language was intelligible to his audience. He little supposed the time would arrive, when his words were to abide the strictest scrutiny of verbal criticism. With the ease of conversation, therefore, he copied its incorrectness. To take, is to use, to employ. To take time is a common phrase; and where is the impropriety of saying—“we'll take to-morrow?” i. e. we will make use of to-morrow. So, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act V. Sc. I.: “Come, Warwick, take the time.” Banquo, “without a prompter,” must have understood, by this familiar expression, that Macbeth would employ to-morrow, as he wished to have employed to-day. When Pistol says—“I can take”—he means, ‘he can kindle, or lay hold, as fire does on its object.’—So Dryden, speaking of flames: “At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take.” Again, in Froissart's Chronicle, vol. ii. cap. C.xcii. fol. CCxliii. b. “&lblank; he put one of the torches that his servauntes helde, so nere, that the heate of the fyre entred into the flaxe (wherein if fyre take, there is no remedy),” &c. That the words talk and take may occasionally have been printed for each other, is a fact which no man conversant with the press will deny; and yet the bare possibility of a similar mistake in the present instance, ought to have little weight in opposition to an old reading sufficiently intelligible. The word take is employed in quite a different sense by Fleance, and means—“to understand in any particular sense or manner.” So, Bacon: “I take it, that iron brass, called white brass, hath some mixture of tin.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; there, I take it, “They may, cum privilegio, wear away “The lag end of their lewdness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 269 7&lblank; go not my horse the better,] i. e. if he does not go well. Shakspeare often uses the comparative for the positive and superlative. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; her smiles and tears “Were like a better day.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; it hath cow'd my better part of man.” Again, in King John: “Nay, but make haste; the better foot before.” Again, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. b. ix. c. xlvi.: “Many are caught out of their fellowes hands, if they bestirre not themselves the better.” Thus also Virgil: “&lblank; oblitos famæ melioris amantes.” It may, however, mean, ‘If my horse does not go the better for the haste I shall be in to avoid the night.’ Steevens. Mr. Steevens's first interpretation is, I believe, the true one. It is supported by the following passage in Stowe's Survey of London, 1603: “&lblank; and hee that hit it not full, if he rid not the faster, had a sound blow in his neck, with a bag full of sand hanged on the other end.” Malone.

Note return to page 270 8And so I do commend you to their backs.] In old language one of the senses of to commend was to commit, and such is the meaning here. So, in King Richard II.: “And now he doth commend his arms to rust.” Malone. So, in Milton's Comus, v. 831: “Commended her fair innocence to the flood.” Commend, however, in the present instance, may only be a civil term, signifying—send. Thus, in King Henry VIII.: “The king's majesty commends his good opinion to you.” Thus also, in Chapman's version of the eighteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “The others other wealthy gifts commended “To her fair hand.” What Macbeth, therefore, after expressing his friendly wish relative to their horses, appears to mean, is—‘so I send (or dismiss) you to mount them.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 271 9Sirrah, a word: &c.] The old copy reads— “Sirrah, a word with you: Attend those men our pleasure?” The words I have omitted are certainly spurious. The metre is injured by them, and the sense is complete without them. Steevens. The old copy arranges these words as in the text. Boswell.

Note return to page 272 1&lblank; royalty of nature &lblank;] Royalty, in the present instance, signifies nobleness, supreme excellence. Thus, in Twelfth-Night, we have “Sport royal,” for excellent sport; and Chaucer, in his Squiere's Tale, has “crowned malice,” for eminence of malignity. Steevens.

Note return to page 273 2&lblank; to &lblank;] i. e. in addition to. See p. 16, n. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 274 3&lblank; to that dauntless temper of his mind, He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour &lblank;] So, in Chapman's version of the fifteenth Iliad: “&lblank; superior to his sire in feet, fight, noblenes “Of all the virtues; and all those did such a wisdome guide &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 275 4My genius is rebuk'd; as, it is said, Mark Antony's was by Cæsar.] For the sake of metre, the prænomen—Mark (which probably was an interpolation) might safely be omitted. Steevens. Though I would not often assume the critick's privilege of being confident where certainty cannot be obtained, nor indulge myself too far in departing from the established reading; yet I cannot but propose the rejection of this passage, which I believe was an insertion of some player, that, having so much learning as to discover to what Shakspeare alluded, was not willing that his audience should be less knowing than himself, and has therefore weakened the author's sense, by the intrusion of a remote and useless image into a speech bursting from a man wholly possessed with his own present condition, and therefore not at leisure to explain his own allusions to himself. If these words are taken away, by which not only the thought, but the numbers are injured, the lines of Shakspeare close together without any traces of a breach: “My genius is rebuk'd. He chid the sisters &lblank;.” This note was written before I was fully acquainted with Shakspeare's manner, and I do not now think it of much weight: for though the words which I was once willing to eject, seem interpolated, I believe they may still be genuine, and added by the author in his revision. Mr. Heath cannot admit the measure to be faulty. There is only one foot, he says, put for another. This is one of the effects of literature in minds not naturally perspicacious. Every boy or girl finds the metre imperfect, but the pedant comes to its defence with a tribrachys or an anapæst, and sets it right at once, by applying to one language the rules of another. If we may be allowed to change feet, like the old comick writers, it will not be easy to write a line not metrical. To hint this once is sufficient. Johnson. Sir William D'Avenant omitted these lines; but our author having alluded to this circumstance in Antony and Cleopatra, there is no reason to suspect any interpolation here: “Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side: “Thy Dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is “Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, “Where Cæsar's is not; but near him thy angel “Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd.” Malone. To produce the example of the old Greek or Latin comick writers would, it is true, be applying to one language the rules of another; but if it can be shown that versification equally licentious may be found in Shakspeare himself elsewhere, and was consistent with the practice of his contemporaries, for which I refer the reader to the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification, it may not perhaps prove the line to be metrical, but will certainly furnish a strong presumption that the poet wrote it, and did not consider it as faulty. Mr. Steevens's suggestion, that the prænomen Mark might be omitted, would leave the verse quite as harsh as he found it. Boswell. Lord Clarendon had this passage in his mind, perhaps, when he wrote—“When Cromwell refused the crown, many were of opinion that his genius at that time forsook him, and yielded to the King's spirit.” Book xv. p. 554. Blakeway.

Note return to page 276 5For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind;] We should read: “&lblank; 'filed my mind.” i. e. defiled. Warburton. This mark of contraction is not necessary. To file is in the Bishops' Bible. Johnson. So, in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1608: “He call'd his father villain, and me strumpet, “A name I do abhor to file my lips with.” Again, in The Miseries of inforc'd Marriage, 1607: “&lblank; like smoke through a chimney that files all the way it goes.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. i.: “She lightly lept out of her filed bed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 277 6&lblank; the common enemy of man,] It is always an entertainment to an inquisitive reader, to trace a sentiment to its original source; and therefore, though the term “enemy of man,” applied to the devil, is in itself natural and obvious, yet some may be pleased with being informed, that Shakspeare probably borrowed it from the first lines of The Destruction of Troy, a book which he is known to have read. This expression, however, he might have had in many other places. The word fiend signifies enemy. Johnson. Shakspeare repeats this phrase in Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; Defy the devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind.” Again, in Fairfax's Tasso, iv. i.: “The ancient foe to man and mortal seed, “His wannish eies upon them bent askance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 278 7&lblank; the seed of Banquo kings!] The old copy reads—seeds. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 279 8&lblank; come, fate, into the list, And champion me to the utterance!] This passage will be best explained by translating it into the language from whence the only word of difficulty in it is borrowed. “Que la destinée se rende en lice, et qu'elle me donne un defi a l'outrance.” A challenge, or a combat a l'outrance, to extremity, was a fixed term in the law of arms, used when the combatants engaged with an odium internecinum, an intention to destroy each other, in opposition to trials of skill at festivals, or on other occasions, where the contest was only for reputation or a prize. The sense therefore is: ‘Let fate, that has fore-doomed the exaltation of the sons of Banquo, enter the lists against me, with the utmost animosity, in defence of its own decrees, which I will endeavour to invalidate, whatever be the danger. Johnson. We meet with the same expression in Gawin Douglas's translation of Virgil, p. 331, 49: “That war not put by Greikis to utterance.” Again, in The History of Graund Amoure and La Bel Pucelle, &c. by Stephen Hawes, 1555: “That so many monsters put to utterance.” Again, and more appositely, in the 14th book of Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis: “To both the parties at the length from battell for to rest, “And not to fight to utterance.” Shakspeare uses it again in Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 280 9Now to the door, and stay there till we call.] The old copy reads— “Now go to the door,” &c. but, for the sake of versification, I suppose the word go, which is understood, may safely be omitted. Thus, in the last scene of the foregoing Act: “Will you to Scone? “No, cousin, I'll to Fife.” In both these instances go is mentally inserted. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 1&lblank; pass'd in probation with you, How you were borne in hand; &c.] The words—with you, I regard as an interpolation, and conceive the passage to have been originally given thus: “In our last conference; pass'd in probation how “You were borne in hand; how cross'd,” &c. “Pass'd in probation” is, I believe, only a bulky phrase, employed to signify—proved. Steevens. The meaning may be, ‘past in proving to you, how you were,’ &c. So, in Othello: “&lblank; so prove it, “That the probation bear no hinge or loop “To hang a doubt on.” Perhaps after the words “with you,” there should be a comma, rather than a semicolon. The construction, however, may be different. “This I made good to you in our last conference, past in probation, &c. I made good to you, how you were borne,” &c. To bear in hand is, to delude by encouraging hope and holding out fair prospects, without any intention of performance. Malone. So, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “Yet I will bear a dozen men in hand, “And make them all my gulls.” Steevens.

Note return to page 282 2&lblank; Are you so gospell'd,] Are you of that degree of precise virtue? Gospeller was a name of contempt given by the Papists to the Lollards, the puritans of early times, and the precursors of protestantism. Johnson. So, in the Morality called Lusty Juventus, 1561: “What, is Juventus become so tame “To be a newe gospeller?” Again: “And yet ye are a great gospeller in the mouth.” I believe, however, that gospel led means no more than kept in obedience of that precept of the gospel, which teaches us “to pray for those that despitefully use us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 283 3We are men, my liege.] That is, we have the same feelings as the rest of mankind, and, as men, are not without a manly resentment for the wrongs which we have suffered, and which you have now recited. I should not have thought so plain a passage wanted an explanation, if it had not been mistaken by Dr. Grey, who says, “they don't answer in the name of Christians, but as men, whose humanity would hinder them from doing a barbarous act.” This false interpretation he has endeavoured to support by the well-known line of Terence: Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto. That amiable sentiment does not appear very suitable to a cut-throat. They urge their manhood, in my opinion, in order to show Macbeth their willingness, not their aversion, to execute his orders. Malone.

Note return to page 284 4Shoughs,] Shoughs are probably what we now call shocks, demi-wolves, lyciscæ? dogs bred between wolves and dogs. Johnson. This species of dogs is mentioned in Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, &c. 1599: “&lblank; a trundle-tail, tike, or shough or two.” Steevens.

Note return to page 285 5&lblank; the valued file &lblank;] In this speech the word file occurs twice, and seems in both places to have a meaning different from its present use. The expression, “valued file,” evidently means, a list or catalogue of value. A station in the file, and not in the worst rank, may mean, a place in the list of manhood, and not in the lowest place. But file seems rather to mean, in this place, a post of honour; the first rank, in opposition to the last; a meaning which I have not observed in any other place. Johnson. “The valued file” is the file or list where the value and peculiar qualities of every thing is set down, in contradistinction to what he immediately mentions, “the bill that writes them all alike.” File, in the second instance, is used in the same sense as in this, and with a reference to it: “Now if you belong to any class that deserves a place in the valued file of man, and are not of the lowest rank, the common herd of mankind, that are not worth distinguishing from each other.” File and list are synonymous, as in the last Act of this play: “&lblank; I have a file “Of all the gentry.” Again, in Heywood's Dedication to the second part of his Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; to number you in the file and list of my best and choicest well-wishers.” This expression occurs more than once in The Beggar's Bush of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; all ways worthy, “As else in any file of mankind.” Shakspeare likewise has it in Measure for Measure: “The greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise.” In short, the “valued file” is the catalogue with prices annexed to it. Steevens.

Note return to page 286 6And not &lblank;] And was supplied by Mr. Rowe for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 287 7So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,] We see the speaker means to say, that he is weary with struggling with adverse fortune. But this reading expresses but half the idea; viz. of a man tugged and haled by fortune without making resistance. To give the complete thought, we should read— “So weary with disastrous tugs with fortune.” This is well expressed, and gives the reason of his being weary, because fortune always hitherto got the better. And that Shakspeare knew how to express this thought, we have an instance in The Winter's Tale: “Let myself and fortune “Tug for the time to come.” Besides, “to be tugg'd with fortune,” is scarce English. Warburton. “Tugged with fortune” may be, tugged or worried by fortune. Johnson. I have left the foregoing note as an evidence of Dr. Warburton's propensity to needless alterations. Mr. Malone very justly observes that the old reading is confirmed by the following passage in an Epistle to Lord Southampton, by S. Daniel, 1603: “He who hath never warr'd with misery, “Nor ever tugg'd with fortune and distress.” Steevens.

Note return to page 288 8&lblank; in such bloody distance,] Distance, for enmity. Warburton. By bloody distance is here meant, such a distance as mortal enemies would stand at from each other, when their quarrel must be determined by the sword. This sense seems evident from the continuation of the metaphor, “where every minute of his being is represented as thrusting at the nearest part where life resides. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 9For certain friends &lblank;] For, in the present instance, signifies because of. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; Speak, good Cominius, “Leave nothing out for length.” Steevens.

Note return to page 290 1&lblank; at most,] These words have no other effect than to spoil the metre, and may therefore be excluded as an evident interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 2Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, The moment on't;] What is meant by “the spy of the time,” it will be found difficult to explain; and therefore sense will be cheaply gained by a slight alteration.—Macbeth is assuring the assassins that they shall not want directions to find Banquo, and therefore says: “I will &lblank; “Acquaint you with a perfect spy o' the time.” Accordingly a third murderer joins them afterwards at the place of action. Perfect is well instructed, or well informed, as in this play: “Though in your state of honour I am perfect.” Though I am well acquainted with your quality and rank. Johnson. “&lblank; the perfect spy o' the time,” i. e. the critical juncture. Warburton. How the “critical juncture” is the “spy o' the time,” I know not, but I think my own conjecture right. Johnson. I rather believe we should read thus: “Acquaint you with the perfect spot, the time, “The moment on't &lblank;;” Tyrwhitt. I believe that the word with has here the force of by; in which sense Shakspeare frequently uses it; and that the meaning of the passage is this: “I will let you know by the person best informed, of the exact moment in which the business is to be done.” And accordingly we find, in the next scene, that these two murderers are joined by a third, as Johnson has observed.—In his letter to his wife, Macbeth says, “I have heard by the perfectest report, that they have more than mortal knowledge.”—And in this very scene, we find the word with used to express by, where the murderer says he is “tugg'd with fortune.” M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is, I will acquaint you with the time when you may look out for Banquo's coming, with the most perfect assurance of not being disappointed; and not only with the time in general most proper for lying in wait for him, but with the very moment when you may expect him. Malone. I apprehend it means the very moment you are to look for or expect, not when you may look out for, Banquo. Boswell. I explain the passage thus, and think it needs no reformation, but that of a single point: “&lblank; Within this hour at most, “I will advise you where to plant yourselves.” Here I place a full stop; as no further instructions could be given by Macbeth, the hour of Banquo's return being quite uncertain. Macbeth therefore adds—“Acquaint you,” &c. i. e. in ancient language, “acquaint yourselves” with the exact time most favourable to your purposes; for such a moment must be spied out by you, be selected by your own attention and scrupulous observation. —You is ungrammatically employed, instead of yourselves; as him is for himself, in The Taming of the Shrew: “To see her noble lord restor'd to health, “Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him “No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.” In this place it is evident that him is used instead of himself. Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Advantage feeds him fat &lblank;.” i. e. himself. Again, more appositely, in King Richard II. where York, addressing himself to Bolingbroke, Northumberland, and others, says— “&lblank; enter in the castle “And there repose you [i. e. yourselves] for this night.” Again, in Coriolanus: “Breathe you, my friends &lblank;.” Macbeth, in the intervening time, might have learned, from some of Banquo's attendants, which way he had ridden out, and therefore could tell the murderers where to plant themselves so as to cut him off on his return; but who could ascertain the precise hour of his arrival, except the ruffians who watched for that purpose?” Steevens.

Note return to page 292 3&lblank; always thought, That I require a clearness:] i. e. you must manage matters so, that throughout the whole transaction I may stand clear of suspicion. So, Holinshed: “&lblank; appointing them to meet Banquo and his sonne without the palace, as they returned to their lodgings, and there to slea them, so that he would not have his house slandered, but that in time to come he might cleare himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 293 4I'll come to you anon.] Perhaps the words—to you, which corrupt the metre, without enforcing the sense, are another playhouse interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 294 5Nought's had, all's spent,] Surely, the unnecessary words —Nought's had, are a tasteless interpolation; for they violate the measure without expansion of the sentiment. “For a few words. Madam, I will. All's spent.” is a complete verse. There is sufficient reason to suppose the metre of Shakspeare was originally uniform and regular. His frequent exactness in making one speaker complete the verse which another had left imperfect, is too evident to need exemplification. Sir T. Hanmer was aware of this, and occasionally struggled with such metrical difficulties as occurred; though for want of familiarity with ancient language, he often failed in the choice of words to be rejected or supplied. Steevens.

Note return to page 295 6&lblank; sorriest fancies &lblank;] i. e. worthless, ignoble, vile. So, in Othello: “I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.” Sorry, however, might signify sorrowful, melancholy, dismal. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “The place of death and sorry execution.” Again, in the play before us, (as Mr. M. Mason observes,) Macbeth says,—“This is a sorry sight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 296 7&lblank; Things without remedy,] The old copy—“all remedy.” But surely, as Sir T. Hanmer thinks, the word all is an interpolation, hurtful to the metre, without improvement of the sense. The same thought occurs in King Richard II. Act II. Sc. III.: “Things past redress, are now with me past care.” Steevens.

Note return to page 297 8&lblank; scotch'd &lblank;] Mr. Theobald.—Fol. scorch'd. Johnson. Scotch'd is the true reading. So, in Coriolanus, Act IV. Sc. V.: “&lblank; he scotch'd him and notch'd him like a carbonado.” Steevens.

Note return to page 298 9But let The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,] The old copy reads thus, and I have followed it, rejecting the modern contraction, which was: “But let both worlds disjoint, and all things suffer.” The same idea occurs in Hamlet: “That both the worlds I give to negligence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 299 1Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,] The old copy reads: “Whom we, to gain our peace &lblank;.” The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 300 2In restless ecstacy.] Ecstacy, for madness. Warburton. Ecstacy, in its general sense, signifies any violent emotion of the mind. Here it means the emotion of pain, agony. So, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, Part I.: “Griping our bowels with retorqued thoughts, “And have no hope to end our extasies.” Again, Milton, in his ode on The Nativity: “In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit.” Thus also Chapman, in his version of the last Iliad, where he describes the distracting sorrow of Achilles: “&lblank; Although he saw the morn “Shew sea and shore his extasie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 301 3&lblank; remembrance &lblank;] Is here employed as a quadrisyllable. So, in Twelfth-Night: “And lasting in her sad remembrance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 302 4&lblank; present him eminence,] i. e. do him the highest honours. Warburton.

Note return to page 303 5&lblank; unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams; And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are.] The sense of this passage (though clouded by metaphor, and perhaps by omission,) appears to be as follows:—“It is a sure sign that our royalty is unsafe, when it must descend to flattery, and stoop to dissimulation.” And yet I cannot help supposing (from the hemistich, Unsafe the while that we,) some words to be wanting which originally rendered the sentiment less obscure. Shakspeare might have written— “Unsafe the while it is for us, that we,” &c. By a different arrangement in the old copy, the present hemistich, indeed, is avoided; but, in my opinion, to the disadvantage of the other lines. See former editions. Steevens. The arrangement in the text is Mr. Malone's. The old copy reads this and the preceding speech thus: “Lady. Come on: “Gentle my lord, sleeke o'er your rugged looks, “Be bright and joviall among your guests to night. “Macb. So shall I, love, and so I pray be you: “Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, “Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: “Unsafe the while that we must lave “Our honors in these flattering streames,” &c. Except in the instance of the hemistichs, distinguished by italicks, and printing 'mong for “among your guests,” Mr. Steevens has followed the folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 304 6&lblank; nature's copy's not eterne.] The copy, the lease, by which they hold their lives from nature, has its time of termination limited. Johnson. Eterne, for eternal, is often used by Chaucer. So, in The Knight's Tale, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 1305: “&lblank; O cruel goddes, that governe “This world with binding of your word eterne, “And writen in the table of athamant “Your parlement and your eterne grant.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's interpretation is supported by a subsequent passage in this play: “&lblank; and our high-plac'd Macbeth “Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath “To time and mortal custom.” Again, by our author's 13th Sonnet: “So should that beauty which you hold in lease, “Find no determination.” Malone. I once thought that by “Nature's copy,” &c. our author meant (to use a Scriptural phrase) man, as formed after the Deity, though not, like him, immortal. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; how shall man, “The image of his Maker, hope to thrive by't?” Or, as Milton expresses the same idea, Comus, v. 69: “&lblank; the human countenance, “Th' express resemblance of the gods &lblank;.” But, (as Mr. M. Mason observes,) in support of Dr. Johnson's explanation, we find that Macbeth, in his next speech but one, alluding to the intended murder of Banquo and Fleance, says: “Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond “That keeps me pale.” Mr. M. Mason, however, adds, that by “nature's copy,” Shakspeare might only mean—the human form divine. Steevens. The allusion is to an estate for lives held by copy of court-roll. It is clear, from numberless allusions of the same kind, that Shakspeare had been an attorney's clerk. Ritson.

Note return to page 305 7&lblank; the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight;] Bats are often seen flying round cloisters, in the dusk of the evening, for a considerable length of time. Malone. The bats wheeling round the dim cloisters of Queen's College, Cambridge, have frequently impressed on me the singular propriety of this original epithet. Steevens.

Note return to page 306 8The shard-borne beetle,] i. e. the beetle hatched in clefts of wood. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “They are his shards, and he their beetle.” Warburton. The shard-borne beetle is the beetle borne along the air by its shards or scaly wings. From a passage in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, it appears that shards signified scales: “She sigh, her thought, a dragon tho, “Whose scherdes shynen as the sonne.” L. VI. fol. 138. and hence the upper or outward wings of the beetle were called shards, they being of a scaly substance. To have an outward pair of wings of a scaly hardness, serving as integuments to a filmy pair beneath them, is the characteristick of the beetle kind. Ben Jonson, in his Sad Shepherd, says— “The scaly beetles with their habergeons, “That make a humming murmur as they fly.” In Cymbeline, Shakspeare applies this epithet again to the beetle: “&lblank; we find “The sharded beetle in a safer hold “Than is the full-wing'd eagle.” Here there is a manifest opposition intended between the wings and flight of the insect and the bird. The beetle, whose sharded wings can but raise him above the ground, is often in a state of greater security than the vast-winged eagle, that can soar to any height. As Shakspeare is here describing the beetle in the act of flying, (for he never makes his humming noise but when he flies,) it is more natural to suppose the epithet should allude to the peculiarity of his wings, than to the circumstance of his origin, or his place of habitation, both of which are common to him with several other creatures of the insect kind. Such another description of the beetle occurs in Chapman's Eugenia, 4to. 1614: “&lblank; The beetle &lblank; “&lblank; there did raise “With his Irate wings his most unwieldie paise; “And with his knollike humming gave the dor “Of death to men &lblank;.” It is almost needless to say, that the word irate, in the second line, must be a corruption. The quotation from Antony and Cleopatra, seems to make against Dr. Warburton's explanation. The meaning of Ænonarbus, in that passage, is evidently as follows: Lepidus, says he, is the beetle of the trumvirate, a dull, blind creature, that would but crawl on the earth, if Octavius and Antony, his more active colleagues in power, did not serve him for shards or wings to raise him a little above the ground. What idea is afforded, if we say that Octavius and Antony are two clefts in the old wood in which Lepidus was hatched? Steevens. The “shard-born beetle” is the beetle born in dung. Aristotle and Pliny mention beetles that breed in dung. Poets as well as natural historians have made the same observation. See Drayton's Ideas, 31: “I scorn all earthly dung-bred scarabies.” So, Ben Jonson, Whalley's edit. vol. i. p. 59: “But men of thy condition feed on sloth, “As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in.” That shard signifies dung, is well known in the North of Staffordshire, where cowshard is the word generally used for cowdung. So, in A petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, p. 165: “The humble-bee taketh no scorn to loge on a cowe's foule shard.” Again, in Bacon's Natural History, exp. 775: “Turf and peat, and cow sheards, are cheap fuels, and last long.” “Sharded beetle,” in Cymbeline, means the “beetle lodged in dung;” and there the humble earthly abode of the beetle is opposed to the lofty eyry of the eagle in “the cedar, whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,” as the poet observes, in The Third Part of King Henry VI. Act V. Sc. II. Tollet. The shard-born beetle is, perhaps, the beetle born among shards, i. e. (not cow's dung, for that is only a secondary or metonymical signification of the word, and not even so, generally, but) pieces of broken pots, tiles, and such-like things, which are frequently thrown together in corners as rubbish, and under which these beetles may usually breed, or (what is the same) may have been supposed so to do. Thus, in Hamlet, the Priest says of Ophelia: “Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her.” Would Mr. Tollet say that cow's dung was to be thrown into the grave? It is true, however, that sharded beetle seems scarcely reconcilable to the above explanation. Mr. Steevens may be right; but Dr. Warburton and Mr. Tollet are certainly wrong. Ritson. Sir W. D'Avenant appears not to have understood this epithet, for he has given instead of it— “&lblank; the sharp-brow'd beetle.” Mr. Steevens's interpretation is, I think, the true one, in the passage before us. Malone. Mr. Steevens's interpretation is no doubt the most suitable to the context. The succeeding passages, however, make in favour of Mr. Tollet's explanation. In A briefe Discourse of the Spanish State, 1590, p. 3, there is, “How that nation rising like the beetle from the cowshern hurtleth against al things.” And in Dryden, The Hind and the Panther: “Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things, “As only buzz to heaven with evening wings.” Holt White.

Note return to page 307 9&lblank; dearest chuck,] I meet with this term of endearment, (which is probably corrupted from chick or chicken,) in many of our ancient writers. So, in Warner's Albion's England, b. v. c. xxvii.: “&lblank; immortal she-egg chuck of Tyndarus his wife.” It occurs also in our author's Twelfth Night: “&lblank; how dost thou chuck? “&lblank; Ay, biddy, come with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 308 1&lblank; Come, seeling night,] Seeling, i. e. blinding. It is a term in falconry. Warburton. So, in The Booke of Hawkyng, Huntyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “And he must take wyth hym nedle and threde, to ensyle the haukes that bene taken. And in thys maner they must be ensiled. Take the nedel and thryde, and put it through the over eye lyd, and soe of that other, and make them fast under the becke that she se not,” &c. Again, in Chapman's version of the thirteenth Iliad: “&lblank; did seele “Th' assailer's eyes up.” Again, in the thirteenth Odyssey: “&lblank; that sleep might sweetly seel “His restful eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 309 2Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond Which keeps me pale!] This may be well explained by the following passage in King Richard III.: “Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray.” Agsin, in Cymbeline, Act V. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; take this life, “And cancel these cold bonds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 310 3&lblank; Light thickens; and the crow, &c.] By the expression, “light thickens,” Shakspeare means, “the light grows dull or muddy.” In this sense he uses it in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; my lustre thickens “When he shines by.”— Edwards's MSS. It may be added, that in The Second Part of King Henry IV. Prince John of Lancaster tells Falstaff, that “his desert is too thick to shine.” Again, in The Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher, Act I. Sc. ult.: “Fold your flocks up, for the air “'Gins to thicken, and the sun “Already his great course hath run.” Steevens. Again, in Spenser's Calendar, 1579: “But see, the welkin thicks apace, “And stouping Phœbus steepes his face; “It's time to haste us home-ward.” Malone.

Note return to page 311 4Makes wing to the rooky wood;] Rooky may mean damp, misty, steaming with exhalations. It is only a North country variation of dialect from reeky. In Coriolanus, Shakspeare mentions— “&lblank; the reek of th' rotten fens.” And in Caltha Poetarum, &c. 1599: “Comes in a vapour like a rookish ryme.” “Rooky wood,” indeed, may signify a rookery, the wood that abounds with rooks; yet, merely to say of the crow that he is flying to a wood inhabited by rooks, is to add little immediately pertinent to the succeeding observation, viz. that— “&lblank; things of day begin to droop and drowse.” I cannot, therefore, help supposing our author wrote— “Makes wing to rook i' th' wood.” i. e. to roost in it. Ruck, or Rouke, Sax. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act V. Sc. VI.: “The raven-rook'd her on the chimney's top.” See note on this passage. Again, in Chaucer's Nonnes Preestes Tale: “O false morderour, rucking in thy den.” Again, in Gower, de Confessione Amantis, lib. iv. fol. 72: “But how their rucken in her nest.” Again, in the fifteenth book of A. Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis: “He rucketh down upon the same, and in the spices dies.” Again, in The Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, &c. 1560: “All day to rucken on my taile, and poren on a booke.” The harmless crow, that merely flew to the rooky wood, for aught we are conscious of on this occasion, might have taken a second flight from it; but the same bird, when become drowsy, would naturally ruck or roost where it settled, while the agents of nocturnal mischief were hastening to their prey. The quiescent state of innoxious birds is thus forcibly contrasted with the active vigilance of destructive beings. So Milton, in the concluding lines of the first book of his Paradise Regained: “&lblank; for now began “Night with her sullen wings to double-shade “The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd; “And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam.” Should this attempt to reform the passage before us be condemned, “the substance which underwent the operation, at the very worst, is but where it was.” Such an unfamiliar verb as rook, might, (especially in a playhouse copy,) become easily corrupted. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's first explanation may receive some support from a passage in the Historie of King Morindos and Miracola, a Spanish Witch, 1609: “It was even at the middle of night, when the scritch-owle, rookes, and doremice sleepe in foggy mistes: it was even at that houre when the ghoastes of dead men walke, when murtherers dreame of villainy.” Boswell.

Note return to page 312 5Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse.] This appears to be said with reference to those dæmons who were supposed to remain in their several places of confinement all day, but at the close of it were released; such, indeed, as are mentioned in The Tempest, as rejoicing “To hear the solemn curfew,” because it announced the hour of their freedom. So also, in Sydney's Astrophel and Stella: “In night, of sprites the ghastly powers do stir.” Thus also in Ascham's Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 13: “For on the night time and in corners, spirites and theeves, &c. &c. use most styrring, when in the day light, and in open places which be ordeyned of God for honest things, they dare not once come; which thing Euripides noteth very well, saying—Iph. in Taur: “Ill thyngs the nyght, good thyngs the day doth haunt and use.” Steevens. The old copy reads preys, as in the text, which Mr. Steevens and the other modern editors have altered to prey; but the original word was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So, in a translation from Virgil in The Housholders Philosophie, 1588: “We hide our grey hairs with our helmets, liking ever more “To live upon the sport and waft our praies from shore to shore.” Malone.

Note return to page 313 6But who did bid thee join with us?] The meaning of this abrupt dialogue is this. The perfect spy, mentioned by Macbeth, in the foregoing scene, has, before they enter upon the stage, given them the directions which were promised at the time of their agreement; yet one of the murderers suborned, suspects him of intending to betray them; the other observes, that, by his exact knowledge of what they were to do, he appears to be employed by Macbeth, and needs not to be mistrusted. Johnson. The third assassin seems to have been sent to join the others, from Macbeth's superabundant caution. From the following dialogue it appears that some conversation has passed between them before their present entry on the stage. Malone. The third Murderer enters only to tell them where they should place themselves. Steevens.

Note return to page 314 7&lblank; lated &lblank;] i. e. belated, benighted. So, again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “I am so lated in the world, that I “Have lost my way for ever. Steevens.

Note return to page 315 8&lblank; the note of expectation,] i. e. they who are set down in the list of guests, and expected to supper. Steevens.

Note return to page 316 9Then it is he; the rest That are within the note of expectation, Already are i' the court.] Perhaps this passage, before it fell into the hands of the players, stood thus: “Then it is he; “The rest within the note of expectation, “Are i' the court.” The hasty recurrence of are, in the last line, and the redundancy of the metre, seem to support my conjecture. Numberless are the instances in which the player editors would not permit the necessary something to be supplied by the reader. They appear to have been utterly unacquainted with an ellipsis. Steevens.

Note return to page 317 1Stand to't. It will be rain to-night. Let it come down.] For the sake of metre, we should certainly read— “Stand to't. “'Twill rain to-night. “Let it come down.” Steevens.

Note return to page 318 2Fleance, &c. escape.] Fleance, after the assassination of his father, fled into Wales, where, by the daughter of the Prince of that country, he had a son named Walter, who afterwards became Lord High Steward of Scotland, and from thence assumed the name of Walter Steward. From him, in a direct line, King James I. was descended; in compliment to whom our author has chosen to describe Banquo, who was equally concerned with Macbeth in the murder of Duncan, as innocent of that crime. Malone.

Note return to page 319 3Was't not the way?] i. e. the best means we could take to evade discovery. Steevens. Rather, to effect our purpose. Ritson.

Note return to page 320 4You know your own degrees, sit down: at first, And last, the hearty welcome.] I believe the true reading is: “You know your own degrees, sit down.—To first “And last the hearty welcome.” All, of whatever degree, from the highest to the lowest, may be assured that their visit is well received. Johnson.

Note return to page 321 5Our hostess keeps her state; &c,] i. e. continues in her chair of state at the head of the table. This idea might have been borrowed from Holinshed, p. 805: “The king (Henry VIII.) caused the queene to keepe the estate, and then sat the ambassadours and ladies as they were marshalled by the king, who would not sit, but walked from place to place, making cheer,” &c. To keep state is a phrase perpetually occurring in our ancient dramas, &c. So, Ben Jonson, in his Cynthia's Revels: “Seated in thy silver chair “State in wonted manner keep.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wild Goose Chase: “What a state she keeps! how far off they sit from her!” Many more instances, to the same purpose, might be given. Steevens. A state appears to have been a royal chair with a canopy over it. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “This chair shall be my state.” Again, in Sir T. Herbert's Memoirs of Charles I.: “&lblank; where being set, the king under a state,” &c. Again, in The View of France, 1598: “&lblank; espying the chayre not to stand well under the state, he mended it handsomely himself.” Malone.

Note return to page 322 6'Tis better thee without, than he within.] The sense requires that this passage should be read thus: “'Tis better thee without, than him within.” That is, ‘I am better pleased that the blood of Banquo should be on thy face than in his body.’ The author might mean, ‘It is better that Banquo's blood were on thy face, than he in this room.’ Expressions thus imperfect are common in his works. Johnson. I have no doubt that this last was the author's meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 323 7&lblank; trenched gashes &lblank;] Trancher, to cut. Fr. So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Is deeply trenched on my blushing brow.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank;like a figure. “Trenched in ice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 324 8&lblank; the worm ,] This term, in our author's time, was applied to all of the serpent kind. Malone.

Note return to page 325 9&lblank; the feast is sold, &c.] Mr. Pope reads:—“the feast is cold,”—and not without plausibility. Such another phrase occurs in The Elder Brother of Beaumont and Fletcher: “You must be welcome too:—the feast is flat else.” But the same expression as Shakspeare's is found in The Romaunt of the Rose: “Good dede done through praiere, “Is sold and bought to dere.” Steevens. The meaning is,—That which is not given cheerfully, cannot be called a gift, it is something that must be paid for. Johnson. It is still common to say, that we pay dear for an entertainment, if the circumstances attending the participation of it prove irksome to us. Henley.

Note return to page 326 1Now, good digestion wait on appetite,] So, in King Henry VIII.: “A good digestion to you all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 327 2The Ghost of Banquo rises,] This circumstance of Banquo's ghost seems to be alluded to in The Puritan, first printed in 1607, and ridiculously ascribed to Shakspeare: “We'll ha' the ghost i' th' white sheet sit at upper end o' th' table.” Farmer.

Note return to page 328 3Than pity for mischance!] This is one of Shakspeare's touches of nature. Macbeth, by these words, discovers a consciousness of guilt: and this circumstance could not fail to be recollected by a nice observer on the assassination of Banquo being publickly known. Not being yet rendered sufficiently callous by “hard use,” Macbeth betrays himself (as Mr. Whateley has observed) “by an over-acted regard for Banquo, of whose absence from the feast he affects to complain, that he may not be suspected of knowing the cause, though at the same time he very unguardedly drops an allusion to that cause.” Malone. These words do not seem to convey any consciousness of guilt on the part of Macbeth, or allusion to Banquo's murder, as Mr. Whateley supposes. Macbeth only means to say—“I have more cause to accuse him of unkindness for his absence, than to pity him for any accident or mischance that may have occasioned it.” Douce.

Note return to page 329 4Here, my lord, &c.] The old copy—“my good lord;” an interpolation that spoils the metre. The compositor's eye had caught—good from the next speech but one. Steevens. Mr. Steevens makes Where? the commencement of this line. Boswell.

Note return to page 330 5&lblank; upon a thought &lblank;] i. e. as speedily as thought can be exerted. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I pay'd.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; as swift “As meditation, or the thoughts of love.” Steevens.

Note return to page 331 6&lblank; extend his passion;] Prolong his suffering; make his fit longer. Johnson.

Note return to page 332 7O proper stuff!] This speech is rather too long for the circumstances in which it is spoken. It had begun better at— Shame itself! Johnson. Surely it required more than a few words, to argue Macbeth out of the horror that possessed him. M. Mason.

Note return to page 333 8&lblank; O, these flaws, and starts, (Impostors to true fear,) would well become, &c.] i. e. these flaws and starts, as they are indications of your needless fears, are the imitators or impostors only of those which arise from a fear well grounded. Warburton. Flaws are sudden gusts. Johnson. So, in Coriolanus: “Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw.” Steevens. Again, in Venus and Adonis: “Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.” Malone. “Impostors to true fear,” mean impostors when compared with true fear. Such is the force of the preposition to in this place. M. Mason. So, in King Henry VIII.: “Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.” Steevens. To may be used for of. In The Two Gentlemen of Verona we have an expression resembling this: “Thou counterfeit to thy true friend.” Malone.

Note return to page 334 9&lblank; our monuments Shall be the maws of kites.] The same thought occurs in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. viii.: “Be not entombed in the raven or the kight.” Thus also—inter nubes tenebrasque Lycophronis atri, v. 413: &grP;&gro;&grl;&grl;&grwc;&grn; &grg;&grag;&grr; &gres;&grn; &grs;&grp;&grl;&graa;&grg;&grx;&grn;&gro;&gri;&grs;&gri; &grt;&gru;&grm;&grb;&gre;&gru;&grq;&grha;&grs;&gre;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grN;&grha;&grr;&gri;&grq;&grm;&gro;&grst; &gres;&grs;&grm;&grog;&grst;. Steevens. In splendidissimum quemque captivum, non sine verborum contumelia, sæviit: ut quidem uni suppliciter sepulturam precanti respondisse dicatur, jam istam in volucrum fore potestatem. Sueton. in August. 13. So, in Kyd's Cornelia: “Where are our legions, where our men at arms? &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “&lblank; the vultures and the crowes, “Lyons and beares, are theyr best sepulchres.” Malone.

Note return to page 335 1What! quite unmann'd in folly?] Would not this question be forcible enough without the two last words, which overflow the metre, and consequently may be suspected as interpolations? Steevens.

Note return to page 336 2&lblank; i' the olden time,] Mr. M. Mason proposes to read— “the golden time,” meaning the golden age: but the ancient reading may be justified by Holinshed, who, speaking of the Witches, says, they “resembled creatures of the elder world;” and in Twelfth-Night we have— “&lblank; dallies with the innocence of love, “Like the old age.” Again, in Thystorie of Jacob and his Twelve Sones, bl. l. printed by Wynkyn de Worde: “Of dedes done in the olde tyme.” Again, in our Liturgy—“and in the old time before them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 337 3Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal;] The gentle weal, is, the peaceable community, the state made quiet and safe by human statutes. Mollia securæ peragebant otia gentes. Johnson. In my opinion it means ‘That state of innocence which did not require the aid of human laws to render it quiet and secure.’ M. Mason.

Note return to page 338 4Do not muse at me,] To muse anciently signified to wonder, to be in amaze. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act IV.: “I muse, you make so slight a question.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well: “And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 339 5&lblank; to all, and him, we thirst,] We thirst, I suppose, means we desire to drink. So, in Julius Cæsar, Cassius says, when Brutus drinks to him, to bury all unkindness— “My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 340 6And all to all.] i. e. all good wishes to all; such as he had named above, love, health, and joy. Warburton. I once thought it should be hail to all, but I now think that the present reading is right. Johnson. Timon uses nearly the same expression to his guests, Act I.: “All to you.” Again, in King Henry VIII. more intelligibly: “And to you all good health.” Steevens.

Note return to page 341 7&lblank; no speculation in those eyes &lblank;] So, in the 115th Psalm: “&lblank; eyes have they, but see not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 342 8&lblank; the Hyrcan tiger,] Theobald chooses to read, in opposition to the old copy—“Hyrcanian tiger;” but the alteration was unnecessary, as Dr. Philemon Holland, in his translation of Pliny's Natural History, p. 122, mentions the Hyrcane sea. Tollet. Sir William D'Avenant unnecessarily altered this to Hircanian tiger, which was followed by Theobald, and others. Hircan tigers are mentioned by Daniel, our author's contemporary, in his Sonnets, 1594: “&lblank; restore thy fierce and cruel mind “To Hircan tygers, and to ruthless beares.” Malone. Alteration certainly might be spared: in Riche's Second Part of Simonides, 4to. 1584, sign. C l, we have—“Contrariewise these souldiers, like to Hircan tygers, revenge themselves on their own bowelles; some parricides, some fratricides, all homicides.” Reed.

Note return to page 343 9If trembling I inhibit &lblank;] Inhabit is the original reading, which Mr. Pope changed to inhibit, which inhibit Dr. Warburton interprets refuse. The old reading may stand, at least as well as the emendation. Johnson. Inhibit seems more likely to have been the poet's own word, as he uses it frequently in the sense required in this passage, Othello, Act I. Sc. VII.: “&lblank;a practiser “Of arts inhibited.” Hamlet, Act II. Sc. VI.: “I think their inhibition comes of the late innovation.” To inhibit is to forbid. Steevens. I have not the least doubt that “inhibit thee,” is the true reading. In All's Well that Ends Well, we find, in the second, and all the subsequent folios—“which is the most inhabited sin of the canon,” instead of inhibited. The same error is found in Stowe's Survey of London, 4to. 1618, p. 772: “Also Robert Fabian writeth, that in the year 1506, the one and twentieth of Henry the Seventh, the said stew-houses in Southwarke were for a season inhabited, and the doores closed up, but it was not long, saith he, ere the houses there were set open again, so many as were permitted.”—The passage is not in the printed copy of Fabian, but that writer left in manuscript a continuation of his Chronicle from the accession of King Henry VII. to near the time of his own death, (1512,) which was in Stowe's possession in the year 1600, but I believe is now lost. By the other slight but happy emendation, the reading thee instead of then, which was proposed by Mr. Steevens, and to which I have paid the respect that it deserved, by giving it a place in my text, this passage is rendered clear and easy. Mr. Steevens's correction is strongly supported by the punctuation of the old copy, where the line stands—“If trembling I inhabit then, protest,” &c. and not—“If trembling I inhabit, then protest,” &c. In our author's King Richard II. we have nearly the same thought: “If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, “I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness.” Malone. Inhabit is the original reading; and it needs no alteration. The obvious meaning is—‘Should you challenge me to encounter you in the desert, and I, through fear, remain trembling in my castle, then protest me,’ &c. Shakspeare here uses the verb inhabit in a neutral sense, to express continuance in a given situation; and Milton has employed it in a similar manner: “Meanwhile inhabit lax, ye powers of heaven!” Henley. To inhabit, a verb neuter, may undoubtedly have a meaning like that suggested by Mr. Henley. Thus, in As You Like It: “O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jove in a thatched house!” Inhabited, in this instance, can have no other meaning than lodged. It is not, therefore, impossible, that by inhabit, our author capriciously meant—‘stay within doors.’—If, when you have challenged me to the desert, I sculk in my house, do not hesitate to protest my cowardice. Steevens. The reading—“If trembling I inhibit,”—and the explanation of it, derives some support from Macbeth's last words— “And damn'd be him that first cries, hold! enough!” I cannot reconcile myself to Henley's or Steevens's explanation of inhabit. M. Mason. Another instance of inhabit, used as a neuter verb, may be found in Fletcher's Mad Lover: “Her eye inhabits on him.” Where a satisfactory meaning can be elicited from the old copy, it is surely taking too great a liberty to introduce an alteration which requires the amendment of two words. Mr. Horne Tooke very strenuously defends the original reading, which, had I been at liberty to do it, I should have retained, but has added no additional argument in its support to what had been already produced. Boswell.

Note return to page 344 1Unreal mockery,] i. e. unsubstantial pageant, as our author calls the vision in The Tempest; or the picture in Timon of Athens, “&lblank; a mocking of the life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 345 2Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?] The meaning is, “Can such wonders as these pass over us without wonder, as a casual summer cloud passes over us?” Johnson. No instance is given of this sense of the word overcome, which has caused all the difficulty; it is, however, to be found in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. vii. st. 4: “&lblank; A little valley &lblank; “All covered with thick woods, that quite it overcame.” Farmer. Again, in Chapman's version of the fifteenth Iliad: “&lblank; his eyes were overcome “With fervour, and resembled flames &lblank;.” Again, in the fourth Iliad: “So (after Diomed) the field was overcome “With thick impressions of the Greeks &lblank;” Steevens. Again, in Marie Magdalene's Repentaunce, 1567: “With blode overcome were both his eyen.” Malone.

Note return to page 346 3&lblank; You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe,] Which, in plain English, is only: “You make me just mad.” Warburton. You produce in me an alienation of mind; which is probably the expression which our author intended to paraphrase. Johnson. I do not think that either of the editors has very successfully explained this passage, which seems to mean,—“You prove to me that I am a stranger even to my own disposition, when I perceive that the very object which steals the colour from my cheek, permits it to remain in yours.” In other words,—‘You prove to me how false an opinion I have hitherto maintained of my own courage, when yours, on the trial, is found to exceed it.” A thought somewhat similar occurs in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. I.: “I'll entertain myself like one I am not acquainted withal.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well, Act V.: “&lblank; if you know “That you are well acquainted with yourself.” Steevens. The meaning, I think, is, ‘You render me a stranger to, or forgetful of, that brave disposition which I know I possess, and make me fancy myself a coward, when I perceive that I am terrified by a sight which has not in the least alarmed you.’ A passage in As You Like It may prove the best comment on that before us: “If with myself I hold intelligence, “Or have acquaintance with my own desires &lblank;.” So Macbeth says, he has no longer acquaintance with his own brave disposition of mind: His wife's superior fortitude makes him as ignorant of his own courage as a stranger might be supposed to be. Malone. I believe it only means, ‘you make me amazed.’ The word strange was then used in this sense. So, in The History of Jack of Newberry: “I jest not, said she; for I mean it shall be; and stand not strangely, but remember that you promised me,”&c. Reed.

Note return to page 347 4&lblank; are blanch'd with fear,] i. e. turned pale, as in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “Thou dost blanch mischief; “Dost make it white.” Steevens. The old copy reads—is blanch'd. Sir T. Hanmer corrected this passage in the wrong place, by reading—cheek; in which he has been followed by the subsequent editors. His correction gives, perhaps, a more elegant text, but not the text of Shakspeare. The alteration now made is only that which every editor has been obliged to make in almost every page of these plays.— In this very scene the old copy has “&lblank; the times has been,” &c. Perhaps it may be said that mine refers to ruby, and that therefore no change is necessary. But this seems very harsh. Malone.

Note return to page 348 5A kind good night to all!] I take it for granted, that the redundant and valueless syllables—a kind, are a play-house interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 349 6It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:] So, in The Mirror of Magistrates, p. 118: “Take heede, ye princes, by examples past, “Bloud will have bloud, eyther at first or last.” Henderson. I would thus point the passage: “It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood.” As a confirmation of the reading, I would add the following authority: “Blood asketh blood, and death must death requite.” Ferrex and Porrex, Act IV. Sc. II. Whalley. I have followed Mr. Whalley's punctuation, instead of placing the semicolon after—say. The same words occur in The Battle of Alcazar, 1594: “Bloud will have bloud, foul murther scape no scourge.” Steevens.

Note return to page 350 7&lblank; and trees to speak;] Alluding perhaps to the vocal tree which (see the third book of the Æneid) revealed the murder of Polydorus. Steevens.

Note return to page 351 8Augurs, and understood relations, &c.] By the word relation is understood the connection of effects with causes; to understand relations as an augur, is to know how those things relate to each other, which have no visible combination or dependence. Johnson. Shakspeare, in his licentious way, by relations, might only mean languages; i. e. the language of birds. Warburton. The old copy has the passage thus: “Augures, and understood relations, have “By maggot-pies and choughs,” &c. The modern editors have read: “Augurs that understand relations, have “By magpies and by choughs,” &c. Perhaps we should read, auguries, i. e. prognostications by means of omens and prodigies. These, together with the connection of effects with causes, being understood, (says he,) have been instrumental in divulging the most secret murders. In Cotgrave's Dictionary, a magpie is called magatapie. So, in The Night-Raven, a Satirical Collection, &c. “I neither tattle with iack-daw, “Or Maggot-pye on thatch'd house straw.” Magot-pie is the original name of the bird; Magot being the familiar appellation given to pies, as we say Robin to a redbreast, Tom to a titmouse, Philip to a sparrow, &c. The modern mag is the abbreviation of the ancient Magot, a word which we had from the French. Steevens. Mr. Steevens rightly restores Magot-pies. In Minsheu's Guide to the Tongues, 1617, we meet with a maggatapie: and Middleton, in his More Dissemblers beside Women, says: “He calls her magot o' pie.” Farmer. It appears to me that we ought to read: “Augurs that understood relations,” &c. which, by a very slight alteration, removes every difficulty. M. Mason.

Note return to page 352 9&lblank; and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret'st man of blood.] The inquisitive reader will find such a story in Thomas Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, &c. 4to. bl. l. no date, p. 100; and in Goulart's Admirable Histories, &c. p. 425, 4to. 1607. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 1How say'st thou, &c.] Macbeth here asks a question, which the recollection of a moment enables him to answer. Of this forgetfulness, natural to a mind oppressed, there is a beautiful instance in the sacred song of Deborah and Barak: “She asked her wise women counsel; yea, she returned answer to herself.” Mr. M. Mason's interpretation of this passage has, however, taught me diffidence of my own. He supposes, and not without sufficient reason, that what Macbeth means to say, is this: “What do you think of this circumstance, that Macduff denies to come at our great bidding? What do you infer from thence? What is your opinion of the matter?” So, in Othello, when the Duke is informed that the Turkish fleet was making for Rhodes, which he supposed to have been bound for Cyprus, he says— “How say you by this change?” That is, what do you think of it? In The Coxcomb, Antonio says to Maria— “Sweetheart, how say you by this gentleman? “He will away at midnight.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Speed says— “But Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable lover?” Again, Macbeth, in his address to his wife, on the first appearance of Banquo's ghost, uses the same form of words: “&lblank; behold! look! lo! how say you?” The circumstance, however, on which this question is founded, took its rise from the old history. Macbeth sent to Macduff to assist in building the castle of Dunsinane. Macduff sent workmen, &c. but did not choose to trust his person in the tyrant's power. From that time he resolved on his death. Steevens.

Note return to page 354 2There's not a one of them,] A one of them, however uncouth the phrase, signifies an individual. Chaucer frequently prefixes the article a to nouns of number. See Squiere's Tale, 10,697: “And up they risen, wel a ten or twelve.” In Albumazar, 1614, the same expression occurs: “Not a one shakes his tail, but I sigh out a passion.” Theobald would read thane; and might have found his proposed emendation in D'Avenant's alteration of Macbeth, 1674. This avowal of the tyrant is authorized by Holinshed; “He had in every nobleman's house one slie fellow or other in fee with him to reveale all,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 355 3(Betimes I will,) unto the weird sisters:] The ancient copy reads— “And betimes I will to the weird sisters.” They whose ears are familiarized to discord, may perhaps object to my omission of the first word, and my supplement to the fifth. Steevens.

Note return to page 356 4&lblank; I am in blood Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er:] This idea is borrowed by Dryden, in his Œdipus, Act IV.: “&lblank; I have already past “The middle of the stream; and to return “Seems greater labour, than to venture o'er.” Steevens.

Note return to page 357 5&lblank; be scann'd.] To scan is to examine nicely. Thus, in Hamlet: “&lblank; so he goes to heaven, “And so am I reveng'd: That would be scann'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 358 6You lack the season of all natures, sleep.] I take the meaning to be, “You want sleep, which seasons, or gives the relish to, all nature.” “Indiget somni vitæ condimenti.” Johnson. This word is often used in this sense by our author. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in.” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing, where, as in the present instance, the word is used as a substantive: “And salt too little, which may season give “To her foul tainted flesh.” So, in The Miscellaneous Poems, published in the names of Lord Pembroke and Sir Benjamin Rudyer, p. 70: “And jealousy, thus mix'd, doth prove “The season and the salt of love.” An anonymous correspondent thinks the meaning is, “You stand in need of the time or season of sleep, which all natures require.” Malone.

Note return to page 359 7We are yet but young in deed.] The editions before Theobald read— “We're but young indeed.” Johnson. The meaning is not ill explained by a line in King Henry VI. Part III.: We are not, Macbeth would say, “Made impudent with use of evil deeds.” or, we are not yet (as Romeo expresses it) “old murderers.” Theobald's amendment may be countenanced by a passage in Antony and Cleopatra: “Not in deed, madam, for I can do nothing.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the eleventh book of the Iliad, fol. edit. p. 146: “And would not be the first in name, unlesse the first in deed.” Again, in Hamlet: “To show yourself in deed your father's son “More than in words.” The initiate fear, is the fear that always attends the first initiation into guilt, before the mind becomes callous and insensible by frequent repetition of it, or (as the poet says) by hard use. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 8Enter Hecate,] Shakspeare has been censured for introducing Hecate among the vulgar witches, and, consequently, for confounding ancient with modern superstitions. He has, however, authority for giving a mistress to the witches. Delrio, Disquis. Mag. lib. ii. quæst. 9, quotes a passage of Apuleius, Lib. de Asino aureo: “de quadam Caupona, regina Sagarum.” And adds further: “ut scias etiam tum quasdam ab iis hoc titulo honoratas.” In consequence of this information, Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Queens, has introduced a character which he calls a Dame, who presides at the meeting of the Witches: “Sisters, stay; we want our dame.” The dame accordingly enters, invested with marks of superiority, and the rest pay an implicit obedience to her commands. Again, in A true Examination and Confession of Elizabeth Stile, alias Rockyngham, &c. 1579, bl. l. 12mo: “Further she saieth, that Mother Seidre, dwelling in the almes house, was the maistres witche of all the reste, and she is now deade.” Shakspeare is therefore blameable only for calling his presiding character Hecate, as it might have been brought on with propriety under any other title whatever. Steevens. The Gothic and Pagan fictions were now frequently blended and incorporated. The Lady of the Lake floated in the suite of Neptune before Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth; Ariel assumes the semblance of a sea-nymph, and Hecate, by an easy association, conducts the rites of the weird sisters in Macbeth. T. Warton. See a very curious investigation of this subject in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 382. Boswell. Shakspeare seems to have been unjustly censured for introducing Hecate among the modern witches. Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft, b. iii. c. ii. and c. xvi. and b. xii. c. iii. mentions it as the common opinion of all writers, that witches were supposed to have nightly “meetings with Herodias, and the Pagan gods,” and “that in the night-times they ride abroad with Diana, the goddess of the Pagans,” &c.—Their dame or chief leader seems always to have been an old Pagan, as “the Ladie Sibylla, Minerva, or Diana.” Tollet. In Jonson's Sad Shepherd, Act II. Sc. III. Maudlin, the witch, (who is the speaker,) calls Hecate the mistress of witches, “our Dame Hecate;” which has escaped the notice of Mr. Steevens and Mr. Tollet, in their remarks on Shakspeare's being censured for introducing Hecate among the vulgar witches. Todd.

Note return to page 361 9Why, how now, Hecate?] Marlowe, though a scholar, has likewise used the word Hecate, as a dissyllable: “Pluto's blew fire, and Hecat's tree, “With magick spells so compass thee.” Dr. Faustus. The writers of that time were accustomed to Anglicise classical proper names in this manner. So, Fairfax, xvi. 5: “The Ciclades seem'd to swimme among the maine.” Malone. Mr. Todd, among his ingenious notes on Comus, has pointed out the same illegitimate pronunciation in The Sad Shepherd of Ben Jonson, Act II. Sc. III.: “&lblank; that very night “We earth'd her in the shades, when our dame Hecat “Made it her gaing night over the kirk-yard.” Milton, in his Comus, has likewise taken the same liberty: “Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, “Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat, and befriend “Us,” &c. Steevens. Again, in King Lear, Act I. Sc. I.: “The mysteries of Hecate and the night.” Reed.

Note return to page 362 1&lblank; for a wayward son, Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you.] Inequality of measure, (the first of these lines being a foot longer than the second,) together with the unnecessary and weak comparison—“as others do,” incline me to regard the passage before us as both maimed and interpolated. Perhaps it originally ran thus: “&lblank; for a wayward son, “A spiteful and a wrathful, who “Loves for his own ends, not for you.” But the repetition of the article a being casually omitted by some transcriber for the theatre, the verse became too short, and a fresh conclusion to it was supplied by the amanuensis, who overlooked the legitimate rhyme who, when he copied the play for publication. If it be necessary to exemplify the particular phraseology introduced by way of amendment, the following line in Chaucer, “A frere there was, a wanton and a mery.” and a passage in The Witch, by Middleton, will sufficiently answer that purpose: “What death is't you desire for Almachildes? “A sudden, and a subtle.” In this instance, the repeated article a is also placed before two adjectives referring to a substantive in the preceding line. See also The Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 155: “Pray God send us a good world and a peaceable.” Again, in our author's King Henry IV.: “A good portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent.” Again, in an ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng, that is cleped Mayster of Game: “It [the Boar] is a prowde beest, a feers, and a perilous.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens is led upon the same principle to make an equally unauthorized alteration a few lines after this: “Unto a dismal and a fatal end.” Contemporary authority for the inequality of measure on which his objection to the text is founded, is produced in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 363 2&lblank; the pit of Acheron &lblank;] Shakspeare seems to have thought it allowable to bestow the name of Acheron on any fountain, lake, or pit, through which there was vulgarly supposed to be a communication between this and the infernal world. The true original Acheron was a river in Greece; and yet Virgil gives this name to his lake, in the valley of Amsanctus in Italy. Steevens. Shakspeare perhaps was led by Scripture (as Mr. Plumptre observed to me, not by any classical notion,) to make his witches assemble at the pit of Acheron. See 2 Kings i. 2, 7, sometimes called “The Fourth Book of Kings:” “2. And Ahaziah,” &c. “6. And they said unto him, There came a man up to meet us and said unto us, Go, turn again unto the king that sent you, and say unto him, Thus saith the Lord, Is it not because there is not a God in Israel, that thou sendest to inquire of Baal-zebub the god of Ekron? therefore thou shalt not come down from that bed on which thou art gone up, but shalt surely die.” Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, alluding to this passage in a work of great celebrity at that time, which doubtless Shakspeare had read, (Defensative against Supposed Prophecies, p. 83,) calls demons the pages of Baal-zebub the god of Acharon. Ekron, according to Cruden, signifies “barren place.” Malone.

Note return to page 364 3Unto a dismal-fatal end.] The old copy violates the metre by needless addition: “Unto a dismal and a fatal end.” I read—dismal-fatal. Shakspeare, as Mr. Tyrwhitt observes, in a note on King Richard III. is fond of these compound epithets, in which the first adjective is to be considered as an adverb. So, in that play, we meet with childish-foolish, senseless-obstinate, and mortal-staring. And, in King John, we have stubborn-hard. Steevens.

Note return to page 365 4Upon the corner of the moon, &c.] Shakspeare's mythological knowledge, on this occasion, appears to have deserted him; for as Hecate is only one of three names belonging to the same goddess, she could not properly be employed in one character to catch a drop that fell from her in another. In A Midsummer-Night's Dream, however, our poet was sufficiently aware of her three-fold capacity: “&lblank; fairies, that do run “By the triple Hecat's team &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 366 5&lblank; vaporous drop profound;] That is, a drop that has profound, deep, or hidden qualities. Johnson. This vaporous drop seems to have been meant for the same as the virus lunare of the ancients, being a foam which the moon was supposed to shed on particular herbs, or other objects, when strongly solicited by enchantment. Lucan introduces Erictho using it, lib. vi.: &lblank; et virus large lunare ministrat. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 6&lblank; slights,] Arts; subtle practices. Johnson.

Note return to page 368 7Come away, come away, &c.] This entire song I found in a MS. dramatic piece, entitled, “A Tragi-Coomodie called The Witch; long since acted &c. written by Thomas Middleton.” The Hecate of Shakspeare has said— “I am for the air,” &c. The Hecate of Middleton (who, like the former, is summoned away by aerial spirits,) has the same declaration in almost the same words— “I am for aloft” &c. Song.]   “Come away, come away:   Heccat, Heccat, come away,” &c. in the aire. See my note among Mr. Malone's Prolegomena, Article Macbeth, [vol. ii.] where other coincidences, &c. are pointed out. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 8Enter Lenox, and another Lord.] As this tragedy, like the rest of Shakspeare's, is perhaps overstocked with personages, it is not easy to assign a reason why a nameless character should be introduced here, since nothing is said that might not with equal propriety have been put into the mouth of any other disaffected man. I believe, therefore, that in the original copy it was written with a very common form of contraction, Lenox and An. for which the transcriber, instead of Lenox and Angus, set down, “Lenox and another Lord.” The author had, indeed, been more indebted to the transcriber's fidelity and diligence, had he committed no errors of greater importance. Johnson.

Note return to page 370 9Who cannot want the thought,] The sense requires: “Who can want the thought.” Yet, I believe, the text is not corrupt. Shakspeare is sometimes incorrect in these minutiæ. Malone.

Note return to page 371 1&lblank; monstrous &lblank;] This word is here used as a trisyllable. Malone. So, in Chapman's version of the 9th book of Homer's Odyssey: “A man in shape, immane and monsterous.” Steevens.

Note return to page 372 2The son of Duncan,] The old copy—sons. Malone. Theobald corrected it. Johnson.

Note return to page 373 3&lblank; on his aid &lblank;] Old copy—upon. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 4Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives;] The construction is—Free our feasts and banquets from bloody knives. Perhaps the words are transposed, and the line originally stood: “Our feasts and banquets free from bloody knives.” Malone. Aukward transpositions in ancient language are so frequent, that the passage before us might have passed unsuspected, had there not been a possibility that the compositor's eye caught the word free from the line immediately following. We might read, fright, or fray, (a verb commonly used by old writers,) but any change, perhaps, is needless. Steevens.

Note return to page 375 5&lblank; and receive free honours,] Free may be either honours freely bestowed, not purchased by crimes; or honours without slavery, without dread of a tyrant. Johnson.

Note return to page 376 6&lblank; exasperate &lblank;] i. e. exasperated. So contaminate is used for contaminated in King Henry V. Steevens.

Note return to page 377 7&lblank; the king,] i. e. Macbeth. The old copy has, less intelligibly—their. Steevens.

Note return to page 378 8Prepares for some attempt of war.] The singularity of this expression, with the apparent redundancy of the metre, almost persuade me to follow Sir T. Hanmer, by the omission of the two last words. Steevens.

Note return to page 379 9Advise him to a caution,] Sir T. Hanmer, to add smoothness to the versification, reads—“to a care.” I suspect, however, the words—to a, are interpolations, designed to render an elliptical expression more clear, according to some player's apprehension. Perhaps the lines originally stood thus: “And that well might “Advise him caution, and to hold what distance “His wisdom can provide.” Steevens.

Note return to page 380 1&lblank; to this our suffering country Under a hand accurs'd!] The construction is,—to our country suffering under a hand accursed. Malone.

Note return to page 381 2My prayers with him!] The old copy, frigidly, and in defiance of measure, reads— “I'll send my prayers with him.” I am aware, that for this, and similar rejections, I shall be censured by those who are disinclined to venture out of the track of the old stage-waggon, though it may occasionally conduct them into a slough. It may soon, therefore, be discovered, that numerous beauties are resident in the discarded words—I'll send; and that as frequently as the vulgarism—on, has been displaced to make room for—of, a diamond has been exchanged for a pebble.—For my own sake, however, let me add, that, throughout the present tragedy, no such liberties have been exercised, without the previous approbation of Dr. Farmer, who fully concurs with me in supposing the irregularities of Shakspeare's text to be oftener occasioned by interpolations, than by omissions. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has proposed three alterations of the text in twenty-one lines, and has given the rein to his critical boldness in this play, more, perhaps, than in any other. The old stage-waggon may offend the refinement of those who may accuse Shakspeare “Plaustris vexisse poemata:” but his genuine admirers will prefer the vehicle which he himself has chosen to the modern curricle which Mr. Steevens would provide for him. Boswell.

Note return to page 382 3Scene I.] As this is the chief scene of enchantment in the play, it is proper, in this place, to observe, with how much judgment Shakspeare has selected all the circumstances of his infernal ceremonies, and how exactly he has conformed to common opinions and traditions: “Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. The usual form in which familiar spirits are reported to converse with witches, is that of a cat. A witch, who was tried about half a century before the time of Shakspeare, had a cat named Rutterkin, as the spirit of one of those witches was Grimalkin; and when any mischief was to be done, she used to bid Rutterkin go and fly. But once, when she would have sent Rutterkin to torment a daughter of the Countess of Rutland, instead of going or flying, he only cried mew, from whence she discovered that the lady was out of his power, the power of witches being not universal, but limited, as Shakspeare has taken care to inculcate: “Though his bark cannot be lost, “Yet it shall be tempest-tost.” The common afflictions which the malice of witches produced, were melancholy, fits, and loss of flesh, which are threatened by one of Shakspeare's witches: “Weary sev'n nights, nine times nine, “Shall be dwindle, peak, and pine.” It was likewise their practice to destroy the cattle of their neighbours, and the farmers have to this day many ceremonies to secure their cows and other cattle from witchcraft; but they seem to have been most suspected of malice against swine. Shakspeare has accordingly made one of his witches declare that she has been killing swine; and Dr. Harsnet observes, that, about that time, “a sow could not be ill of the measles, nor a girl of the sullens, but some old woman was charged with witchcraft.” “Toad, that under the cold stone, “Days and nights hast thirty-one, “Swelter'd venom sleeping got, “Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.” Toads have likewise long lain under the reproach of being by some means accessary to witchcraft, for which reason Shakspeare, in the first scene of this play, calls one of the spirits Paddock or Toad, and now takes care to put a toad first into the pot. When Vaninus was seized at Tholouse, there was found at his lodgings ingens bufo vitro inclusus, a great toad shut in a vial, upon which those that prosecuted him Veneficium exprobrabant, charged him, I suppose, with witchcraft. “Fillet of a fenny snake, “In the cauldron boil and bake: “Eye of newt, and toe of frog;— “For a charm,” &c. The propriety of these ingredients may be known by consulting the books De Viribus Animalium and De Mirabilibus Mundi, ascribed to Albertus Magnus, in which the reader, who has time and credulity, may discover very wonderful secrets. “Finger of birth-strangled babe, “Ditch-deliver'd by a drab &lblank;;” It has been already mentioned, in the law against witches, that they are supposed to take up dead bodies to use in enchantments, which was confessed by the woman whom King James examined; and who had of a dead body, that was divided in one of their assemblies, two fingers for her share. It is observable, that Shakspeare, on this great occasion, which involves the fate of a king, multiplies all the circumstances of horror. The babe, whose finger is used, must be strangled in its birth; the grease must not only be human, but must have dropped from a gibbet, the gibbet of a murderer; and even the sow, whose blood is used, must have offended nature by devouring her own farrow. These are touches of judgment and genius. “And now about the cauldron sing, &lblank; “Black spirits and white,   “Red spirits and grey, “Mingle, mingle, mingle,   “You that mingle may.” And, in a former part: “&lblank; weird sisters, hand in hand, &lblank; “Thus do go about, about; “Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, “And thrice again, to make up nine!” These two passages I have brought together, because they both seem subject to the objection of too much levity for the solemnity of enchantment, and may both be shown, by one quotation from Camden's account of Ireland, to be founded upon a practice really observed by the uncivilized natives of that country: “When any one gets a fall, says the informer of Camden, he starts up, and, turning three times to the right, digs a hole in the earth; for they imagine that there is a spirit in the ground, and if he falls sick in two or three days, they send one of their women that is skilled in that way to the place, where she says, I call thee from the east, west, north, and south, from the groves, the woods, the rivers, and the fens, from the fairies, red, black, white.” There was likewise a book written before the time of Shakspeare, describing, amongst other properties, the colours of spirits. Many other circumstances might be particularised, in which Shakspeare has shown his judgment and his knowledge. Johnson.

Note return to page 383 4Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.] A cat, from time immemorial, has been the agent and favourite of Witches. This superstitious fancy is pagan, and very ancient; and the original, perhaps, this: “When Galanthia was changed into a cat by the Fates, (says Antonius Liberalis, Metam. c. xxix.) by witches, (says Pausanias in his Bœotics,) Hecate took pity of her, and made her her priestess; in which office she continues to this day. Hecate herself too, when Typhon forced all the gods and goddesses to hide themselves in animals, assumed the shape of a cat. So, Ovid: “Fele soror Phæbi latuit.” Warburton.

Note return to page 384 5Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd.] Mr. Theobald reads, “twice and once,” &c. and observes that odd numbers are used in all enchantments and magical operations. The remark is just, but the passage was misunderstood. The second Witch only repeats the number which the first had mentioned, in order to confirm what she had said; and then adds, that the hedge-pig had likewise cried, though but once. Or what seems more easy, the hedge-pig had whined thrice, and after an interval had whined once again. Even numbers, however, were always reckoned inauspicious. So, in The Honest Lawyer, by S. S. 1616: “Sure 'tis not a lucky time; the first crow I heard this morning, cried twice. This even, sir, is no good number.” “Twice and once,” however, might be a cant expression. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Silence says, “I have been merry twice and once, ere now.” Steevens. The urchin, or hedgehog, from its solitariness, the ugliness of its appearance, and from a popular opinion that it sucked or poisoned the udders of cows, was adopted into the demonologic system, and its shape was sometimes supposed to be assumed by mischievous elves. Hence it was one of the plagues of Caliban in The Tempest. T. Warton.

Note return to page 385 6Harper cries:] This is some imp, or familiar spirit, concerning whose etymology and office, the reader may be wiser than the editor. Those who are acquainted with Dr. Farmer's pamphlet, will be unwilling to derive the name of Harper from Ovid's Harpalos, ab &gra;&grr;&grp;&graa;&grz;&grw; rapio. See Upton's Critical Observations, &c. edit. 1748, p. 155. Harper, however, may be only a mis-spelling, or misprint, for harpy. So, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, &c. 1590: “And like a harper tyers upon my life.” The word cries likewise seems to countenance this supposition. Crying is one of the technical terms appropriated to the noise made by birds of prey. So, in the nineteenth Iliad, 350: &GRHr; &grd;, &grA;&grR;&grP;&grH; &gre;&gris;&grk;&gru;&gric;&gra; &grt;&gra;&grn;&gru;&grp;&grt;&grea;&grr;&gru;&grg;&gri;, &grL;&grI;&grG;&grU;&grF;&grW;&grN;&grW;, &grO;&grus;&grr;&gra;&grn;&gro;&gruc; &gre;&grk;&grk;&gra;&grt;&gre;&grp;&grac;&grl;&grt;&gro; &lblank;.&grdquo; Thus rendered by Chapman: “And like a harpie, with a voice that shrieks,” &c. Steevens. We might as well imagine the names of all the evil spirits in King Lear to be corruptions because we are unacquainted with their etymology. Boswell.

Note return to page 386 7&lblank; 'Tis time, 'tis time.] This familiar does not cry out that it is time for them to begin their enchantments; but cries, i. e. gives them the signal, upon which the third Witch communicates the notice to her sisters: “Harper cries:—'Tis time, 'tis Time.” Thus too the Hecate of Middleton, already quoted: “Hec.] Heard you the owle yet? “Stad.] Briefely in the copps. “Hec.] 'Tis high time for us then.” Steevens.

Note return to page 387 8Round about the cauldron go;] Milton has caught this image in his Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity: “In dismal dance about the furnace blue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 9&lblank; coldest stone,] The old copy has—“cold stone.” The modern editors—“the cold stone.” The slighter change I have made, by substituting the superlative for the positive, has met with the approbation of Dr. Farmer, or it would not have appeared in the text. Steevens. The was added by Mr. Pope. Malone. I have endeavoured to show that neither alteration was necessary. See Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 389 1Days and nights hast &lblank;] Old copy—has. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 390 2Swelter'd venom &lblank;] This word seems to be employed by Shakspeare, to signify that the animal was moistened with its own cold exudations. So, in the twenty-second Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “And all the knights there dub'd the morning but before, “The evening sun beheld there swelter'd in their gore.” In the old translation of Boccace's Novels, [1620] the following sentence also occurs: “&lblank; an huge and mighty toad even weltering (as it were) in a hole full of poison.”—“Sweltering in blood,” is likewise an expression used by Fuller, in his Church History, p. 37. And in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 1593, is a similar expression: “He spake great thinges that swelted in his greace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 391 3Double, double toil and trouble;] As this was a very extraordinary incantation, they were to double their pains about it. I think, therefore, it should be pointed as I have pointed it: “Double, double toil and trouble;” otherwise the solemnity is abated by the immediate recurrence of the rhyme. Steevens.

Note return to page 392 4Adder's fork,] Thus Pliny, Nat. Hist. book xi. ch. xxxvii.: “Serpents have very thin tongues, and the same three-forked.” P. Holland's translation, edit. 1601, p. 338. Steevens.

Note return to page 393 5&lblank; blind-worm's sting,] The blind-worm is the slow-worm. So Drayton, in Noah's Flood: “The small-eyed slow-worm held of many blind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 394 6&lblank; maw, and gulf,] The gulf is the swallow, the throat. Steevens. In The Mirror for Magistrates, we have “monstrous mawes and gulfes.” Henderson.

Note return to page 395 7&lblank; ravin'd salt-sea shark;] Mr. M. Mason observes that we should read—ravin, instead of—ravin'd. So, in All's Well that Ends Well, Helena says: “Better it were “I met the ravin lion, when he roar'd “With sharp constraint of hunger.” And in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid of the Mill, Gillian says: “When nurse Amaranta— “Was seiz'd on by a fierce and hungry bear, “She was the ravin's prey.” However, in Phineas Fletcher's Locusts, or Appollyonists, 1627, the same word, as it appears in the text of the play before us, occurs: “But slew, devour'd and fill'd his empty maw; “But with his raven'd prey his bowells broke, “So into four divides his brazen yoke.” “Ravin'd is glutted with prey. Ravin is the ancient word for prey obtained by violence. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 7: “&lblank; but a den for beasts of ravin made.” The same word occurs again in Measure for Measure. Steevens. To ravin, according to Minshieu, is to devour, or eat greedily. See his Dict. 1617, in v. To devour. I believe our author, with his usual licence, used ravin'd for ravenous, the passive participle for the adjective. Malone.

Note return to page 396 8Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;] Sliver is a common word in the North, where it means to cut a piece, or a slice. Again, in King Lear: “She who herself will sliver and disbranch.” Milton has transplanted the second of these ideas into his Lycidas: “&lblank; perfidious bark “Built in th' eclipse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 397 9Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;] These ingredients, in all probability, owed their introduction to the detestation in which the Turks were held, on account of the holy wars. So solicitous, indeed, were our neighbours, the French, (from whom most of our prejudices, as well as customs, are derived,) to keep this idea awake, that even in their military sport of the quintain, their soldiers were accustomed to point their lances at the figure of a Saracen. Steevens.

Note return to page 398 1Finger of birth-strangled, &c. Make the gruel thick and slab;] Gray appears to have had this passage in his recollection, when he wrote— “Sword that once a monarch bore “Keep the tissue close and strong.” Fatal Sisters. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's comparison is very complimentary to the monarch; but seriously, can any two passages differ more from each other than these do both in subject and expression? Boswell.

Note return to page 399 2Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,] Chaudron, i. e. entrails; a word formerly in common use in the books of cookery, in one of which, printed in 1597, I meet with a receipt to make a pudding of a calf's chaldron. Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “Sixpence a meal wench, as well as heart can wish, with calves' chauldrons and chitterlings.” At the coronation feast of Elizabeth of York, queen of Henry VII. among other dishes, one was “a swan with chaudron,” meaning sauce made with its entrails. See Ives's Select Papers, N° 3. p. 140. See also Mr. Pegge's Forme of Cury, a Roll of Ancient English Cookery, &c. 8vo. 1780, p. 66. Steevens.

Note return to page 400 3&lblank; the other Three Witches.] The insertion of these words, “and the other Three Witches,” in the original copy, must be owing to a mistake. There is no reason to suppose that Shakspeare meant to introduce more than Three Witches upon the scene. Ritson. Perhaps these additional Witches were brought on for the sake of the approaching dance. Surely the original triad of hags was insufficient for the performance of the “ancient round” introduced in page 207. Steevens.

Note return to page 401 4O, well done!] Ben Jonson's Dame, in his Masque of Queens, 1609, addresses her associates in the same manner: “Well done, my hags.” The attentive reader will observe, that in this piece, old Ben has exerted his strongest efforts to rival the incantation of Shakspeare's Witches, and the final address of Prospero to the aerial spirits under his command. It may be remarked also, that Shakspeare's Hecate, after delivering a speech of five lines, interferes no further in the business of the scene, but is lost in the croud of subordinate witches. Nothing, in short, is effected by her assistance, but what might have been done without it. Steevens. Jonson could not have intended to rival Prospero's address, as his Masque was written several years before The Tempest. Malone. Mr. Gifford has denied that there was any imitation in the other instance. Boswell.

Note return to page 402 5Song.] In a former note on this tragedy, I had observed, that the original edition contains only the two first words of the song before us; but have since discovered the entire stanza in The Witch, a dramatic piece, by Middleton, already quoted. The song is there called—“A Charme-Song, about a Vessel.”—I may add, that this invocation, as it first occurs in The Witch, is— “White spirits, black spirits, gray spirits, red spirits.”—Afterwards, we find it in its present metrical shape. The song was, in all probability, a traditional one. The colours of spirits are often mentioned. So, in Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “Be thou black, or white, or green, “Be thou heard, or to be seen.” Perhaps, indeed, this musical scrap (which does not well accord with the serious business of the scene) was introduced by the players, without the suggestion of Shakspeare. It may yet be urged, that however light and sportive the metre of this stanza, the sense conveyed by it is sufficiently appropriate and solemn! ‘Spirits of every hue, who are permitted to unite your various influences, unite them on the present occasion.’ Steevens. Reginald Scot, in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, enumerating the different kinds of spirits, particularly mentions white, black, grey, and red spirits. See also a passage quoted from Camden, ante, p. 191, n. 3. The modern editions, without authority, read— “Blue spirits and grey.” Malone.

Note return to page 403 6By the pricking of my thumbs, &c.] It is a very ancient superstition, that all sudden pains of the body, and other sensations which could not naturally be accounted for, were presages of somewhat that was shortly to happen. Hence Mr. Upton has explained a passage in The Miles Gloriosus of Plautus: “Timeo quod rerum gesserim hic, ita dorsus totus pruvit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 7&lblank; yesty waves &lblank;] That is, foaming or frothy waves. Johnson.

Note return to page 405 8Though bladed corn be lodg'd,] So, in King Richard II.: “Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Like to the summer corn by tempest lodg'd.” Corn, prostrated by the wind, in modern language, is said to be lay'd; but lodg'd had anciently the same meaning. Ritson.

Note return to page 406 9Though castles topple &lblank;] Topple is used for tumble. So in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, Act IV. Sc. III.: “That I might pile up Charon's boat so full, “Until it topple o'er.” Again, in Shirley's Gentleman of Venice: “&lblank; may be, his haste hath toppled him “Into the river.” Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “The very principals did seem to rend, and all to topple.” Steevens.

Note return to page 407 1Of nature's germins &lblank;] This was substituted by Theobald for “Natures germaine.” Johnson. So, in King Lear, Act III. Sc. II.: “&lblank; all germins spill at once “That make ungrateful man.” Germins are seeds which have begun to germinate or sprout. Germen, Lat. Germe, Fr. Germe is a word used by Brown, in his Vulgar Errors: “Whether it be not made out of the germe or treadle of the egg,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 408 2&lblank; sow's blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow;] Shakspeare probably caught the idea of this offence against nature from the laws of Kenneth II. King of Scotland: “If a sowe eate hir pigges, let hyr be stoned to death and buried, that no man eate of hyr fleshe.”—Holinshed's History of Scotland, edit. 1577, p. 181. Steevens.

Note return to page 409 3&lblank; deftly show.] i. e. with adroitness, dexterously. So, in the Second Part of King Edward IV. by Heywood, 1626: “&lblank; my mistress speaks deftly and truly.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England: “Tho Roben Hood, liell John, frier Tucke, and Marian deftly play &lblank;.” Deft is a North Country word. So, in Richard Brome's Northern Lass, 1633: “&lblank; He said I were a deft lass.” Steevens.

Note return to page 410 4An Apparition of an armed Head rises.] The armed head represents symbolically Macbeth's head cut off and brought to Malcolm by Macduff. The bloody child is Macduff untimely ripped from his mother's womb. The child with a crown on his head, and a bough in his hand, is the royal Malcolm, who ordered his soldiers to hew them down a bough, and bear it before them to Dunsinane. This observation I have adopted from Mr. Upton. Steevens. Lord Howard, in his Defensative against the Poison of supposed Prophecies, mentions “a notable example of a conjuror, who represented (as it were, in dumb show,) all the persons who should possess the crown of France; and caused the King of Navarre, or rather a wicked spirit in his stead, to appear in the fifth place,” &c. Farmer.

Note return to page 411 5&lblank; say thou nought] Silence was necessary during all incantations. So, in Doctor Faustus, 1604: “Your grace, demand no questions, &lblank; “But in dumb silence let them come and go.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; be mute, or else our spell is marr'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 412 6Beware the thane of Fife. &lblank;] “&lblank; He had learned of certain wizzards, in whose words he put great confidence, how that he ought to take heede of Macduff,” &c. Holinshed. Steevens.

Note return to page 413 7Dismiss me:—Enough.] Spirits thus evoked were usually represented as impatient of being questioned. So, in Henry VI. Part II. Act I. Sc. IV. the spirit by the witch Jourdain, says, “Ask what thou wilt—that I had said and done!” See Mr. Steevens's note on that passage. Malone.

Note return to page 414 8Thou hast harp'd my fear aright:] To harp, is to touch on a passion as a harper touches a string. So, in Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. ult.: “Harp on that still.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 9Had I three ears, &c.] Does Macbeth mean to say—that ‘if his sense of hearing were thrice what it is,’ &c.?—or—that ‘if the number of his ears were equal to that of the spectre's invocations of his name,’ &c.? Let the reader determine. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 1&lblank; shall harm Macbeth.] So, Holinshed: “And surely hereupon he had put Macduff to death, but that a certeine witch, whom he had in great trust, had told him, that he should never be slaine with man borne of anie woman, nor vanquished till the wood of Bernane came to the castell of Dunsinane. This prophecie put all feare out of his heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 417 2&lblank; take a bond of fate:] In this scene the attorney has more than once degraded the poet; for presently we have— “the lease of nature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 418 3&lblank; the round And top of sovereignty?] The round is that part of the crown that encircles the head. The top is the ornament that rises above it. Johnson.

Note return to page 419 4Listen, but speak not.] The old copy, injuriously to measure, reads— “Listen, but speak not to't.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 5&lblank; high Dunsinane hill &lblank;] The present quantity of Dunsinane is right. In every subsequent instance the accent is misplaced. Thus, in Hervey's Life of King Robert Bruce, 1729 (a good authority): “The noble Weemyss, Mcduff's immortal son, “Mcduff! th' asserter of the Scottish throne; “Whose deeds let Birnam and Dunsinnan tell, “When Canmore battled, and the villain* [Subnote: *Macbeth.] fell.” Ritson. This accent may be defended on the authority of A. of Wyntown's Cronykil, b. vi. ch. xviii.: “A gret hows for to mak of were “A-pon the hycht of Dwnsyn&abar;ne: “Tymbyr thare-til to drawe and stane &lblank;.” v. 120. It should be observed, however, that Wyntown employs both quantities. Thus, in b. vi. ch. xviii. v. 190: “&lblank; the Thane wes thare “Of Fyfe, and till Dwnsyn&ashort;ne fare “To byde Makbeth &lblank;.” Steevens. Prophecies of apparent impossibilities were common in Scotland; such as the removal of one place to another. Under this popular prophetick formulary the present prediction may be ranked. In the same strain, peculiar to his country, says Sir David Lindsay: “Quhen the Bas and the Isle of May “Beis set upon the Mount Sinay, “Quhen the Lowmound besyde Falkland “Be liftit to Northumberland &lblank;.” T. Warton.

Note return to page 421 6Who can impress the forest;] i. e. who can command the forest to serve him like a soldier impressed. Johnson.

Note return to page 422 7Rebellious head, rise never,] The old copy has—rebellious dead. Malone. We should read—“Rebellious head,”—i. e. let rebellion never make head against me till a forest move, and I shall reign in safety. Theobald. Mr. Theobald rightly observes, that head means host, or power: “That Douglas and the English rebels met;— “A mighty and a fearful head they are.” King Henry IV. Part I. Again, in King Henry VIII.: “My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, “Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard.” Johnson. This phrase is not peculiar to Shakspeare. So, in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “&lblank; howling like a head of angry wolves.” Again, in Look About You, 1600: “Is, like a head of people, mutinous.” Steevens.

Note return to page 423 8&lblank; what noise is this?] Noise, in our ancient poets, is often literally synonymous for musick. See a note on King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. IV. Thus also Spenser, Fairy Queen, b. i. xii. 39: “During which time there was a heavenly noise.” See likewise the 47th Psalm: “God is gone up with a merry noise, and the Lord with the sound of the trump.” Steevens.

Note return to page 424 9Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;] “And the man of thine, whom I shall not cut off from mine altar, shall be to consume thine eyes, and to grieve thine heart.” 1 Samuel, ii. 33. Malone.

Note return to page 425 1Eight Kings &lblank;] “It is reported that Voltaire often laughs at the tragedy of Macbeth, for having a legion of ghosts in it. One should imagine he either had not learned English, or had forgot his Latin; for the spirits of Banquo's line are no more ghosts, than the representation of the Julian race in the Æneid; and there is no ghost but Banquo's throughout the play.”— Essay on the Genius and Writings of Shakspeare, &c. by Mrs. Montagu. Steevens.

Note return to page 426 9Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:] The expression of Macbeth, ‘that the crown sears his eye-balls,’ is taken from the method formerly practised of destroying the sight of captives or competitors, by holding a burning bason before the eye, which dried up its humidity. Whence the Italian, abacinare, to blind. Johnson.

Note return to page 427 1&lblank; And thy air, &c.] In former editions, “And thy hair, “Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:— “A third is like the former.” As Macbeth expected to see a train of kings, and was only inquiring from what race they would proceed, he could not be surprised that the hair of the second was bound with gold like that of the first; he was offended only that the second resembled the first, as the first resembled Banquo, and therefore said: “&lblank; and thy air, “Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.” This Dr. Warburton has followed. Johnson. So, in The Winter's Tale: “Your father's image is so hit in you, “His very air, that I should call you brother “As I did him.” The old reading, however, as Mr. M. Mason observes, may be the true one. “It implies that their hair was of the same colour, which is more likely to mark a family likeness, than the air, which depends on habit,” &c. A similar mistake has happened in The Maid's Tragedy, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Mine arms thus; and mine air [hair] blown with the wind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 428 2&lblank; to the crack of doom?] i. e. the dissolution of nature. Crack has now a mean signification. It was anciently employed in a more exalted sense. So, in The Valiant Welchman, 1615 “And will as fearless entertain this sight, “As a good conscience doth the cracks of Jove.” Steevens.

Note return to page 429 3And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,] This method of juggling prophecy is again referred to in Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. VII.: “&lblank; and like a prophet, “Looks in a glass, and shows me future evils.” So, in an Extract from The Penal Laws Against Witches, it is said “they do answer either by voice, or else do set before their eyes in glasses, chrystal stones, &c. the pictures or images of the persons or things sought for.” Among the other knaveries with which Face taxes Subtle in The Alchemist, this seems to be one: “And taking in of shadows with a glass.” Again, in Humor's Ordinarie, an ancient collection of satires, no date: “Shew you the devil in a chrystal glass.” Spenser has given a very circumstantial account of the glass which Merlin made for King Ryence, in the second canto of the third book of The Fairy Queen. A mirror of the same kind was presented to Cambuscan in The Squier's Tale of Chaucer; and in John Alday's translation of Pierre Boisteau's Theatrum Mundi, &c. bl. l. no date: “A certaine philosopher did the like to Pompey, the which shewed him in a glasse the order of his enemies march.” Steevens.

Note return to page 430 4That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:] This was intended as a compliment to King James the First, who first united the two islands and the three kingdoms under one head; whose house too was said to be descended from Banquo. Warburton. Of this last particular our poet seems to have been thoroughly aware, having represented Banquo not only as an innocent, but as a noble character; whereas, according to history, he was confederate with Macbeth in the murder of Duncan. The flattery of Shakspeare, however, is not more gross than that of Ben Jonson, who has condescended to quote his majesty's ridiculous book on Dæmonology, in the notes to The Masque of Queens, 1609. Steevens.

Note return to page 431 5&lblank; Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;] That the metre may be complete, I have supplied—ay, an adverb employed by our author in other places, to enforce his meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 432 6&lblank; the blood-bolter'd Banquo &lblank;] The epithet blood-bolter'd (which Dr. Warburton and the subsequent editors supposed to mean “one whose blood hath issued out at many wounds, as flour of corn passes out of the holes of a sieve,”) has been entirely misunderstood. It is a provincial term, well known in Warwickshire, and probably in some other counties. When a horse, sheep, or other animal, perspires much, and any of the hair or wool, in consequence of such perspiration, or any redundant humour, becomes matted in tufts with grime and sweat, he is said to be boltered; and whenever the blood issues out, and coagulates, forming the locks into hard clotted bunches, the beast is said to be blood-bolter'd. This precisely agrees with the account already given of the murder of Banquo, who was killed by a wound in the head, and thrown into a ditch; with the filth of which, and the blood issuing from his wounds, his hair would necessarily be hardened and coagulated. He ought, therefore, to be represented both here and at the banquet, with his hair clotted with blood. The murderer, when he informs Macbeth of his having executed his commission, says, “&lblank; safe in a ditch he bides, “With twenty trenched gashes on his head, “The least a death to nature.” And Macbeth himself exclaims, “Thou can'st not say, I did it; never shake “Thy gory locks at me.” Malone. To bolter, in Warwickshire, signifies to daub, dirty, or begrime. “I ordered (says my informant) a harness-collar to be made with a linen lining, but blacked, to give it the appearance of leather. The sadler made the lining as he was directed, but did not black it, saying, it would bolter the horse. Being asked what he meant by bolter, he replied, dirty, besmear; and that it was a common word in his country. This conversation passed within eight miles of Stratford on Avon.” In the same neighbourhood, when a boy has a broken head, so that his hair is matted together with blood, his head is said to be boltered [pronounced baltered]. So, in Philemon Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, 1601, book xii. ch. xvii. p. 370: “&lblank; they doe drop and distill the said moisture, which the shrewd and unhappie beast catcheth among the shag long haires of his beard. Now by reason of dust getting among it, it baltereth and cluttereth into knots,” &c. Such a term is therefore applicable to Banquo, who had “twenty trenched gashes on his head.” The propriety of the foregoing note has been abundantly confirmed by Mr. Homer, a truly respectable clergyman of Warwickshire. I seize this opportunity to offer my best acknowledgment for his remarks, which were obligingly conveyed to me by his son, the late Reverend and amiable Henry Homer, who favoured the world with editions of Sallust and Tacitus, the elegance of which can only be exceeded by their accuracy. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 7&lblank; cheer we up his sprights,] i. e. spirits. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. ii.: “Hold thou my heart, establish thou my sprights.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 8I'll charm the air to give a sound,] The Hecate of Middleton says, on a similar occasion: “Come, my sweete sisters, let the air strike our tune, “Whilst we show reverence to yon peeping moone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 435 9&lblank; your antique round: &lblank; The Witches dance, and vanish.] These ideas as well as a foregoing one— “The weird sisters, hand in hand,” might have been adopted from a poem, intitled Churchyard's Dreame, 1593: “All hand in hand they traced on   “A tricksie ancient round; “And soone as shadowes were they gone,   “And might no more be found.” Steevens. Antique was the old spelling for antick, and so perhaps it is used here. So, in Greene's James IV.: “Enter three Antiques, who dance round and take Slipper with them.” Malone.

Note return to page 436 1Stand aye accursed in the calendar!] In the ancient almanacks the unlucky days were distinguished by a mark of reprobation. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “&lblank; henceforth let it stand “Within the wizard's book, the kalender, “Mark'd with a marginal finger, to be chosen, “By thieves, by villains, and black murderers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 437 2Infected be the air whereon they ride;] So, in the first part of Selimus, 1594: “Now Baiazet will ban another while, “And vtter curses to the concaue skie, “Which may infect the regions of the ayre.” Todd.

Note return to page 438 3Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:] To anticipate is here to prevent, by taking away the opportunity. Johnson.

Note return to page 439 4The very firstlings &lblank;] Firstlings, in its primitive sense, is the first produce or offspring. So, in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “The firstlings of their vowed sacrifice.” Here it means the thing first thought or done. The word is used again in the prologue to Troilus and Cressida: “Leaps o'er the vant and firstlings of these broils.” Steevens.

Note return to page 440 5That trace his line.] i. e. follow, succeed in it. Thus, in a poem interwoven with A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels: &c. translated out of French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton] 4°. 1578: “They trace the pleasant groves, “And gather floures sweete &lblank;.” Again, in Sir Arthur Gorge's translation of the third book of Lucan, 1614: “The tribune's curses in like case “Said he, did greedy Crassus trace.” The old copy reads— “That trace him in his line.” The metre, however, demands the omission of such unnecessary expletives. Steevens.

Note return to page 441 6But no more sights!] This hasty reflection is to be considered as a moral to the foregoing scene: Tu ne quæsieris, scire (nefas), quem mihi, quem tibi Finem Dî dederint Leuconöe; nec Babylonios Tentaris numeros: ut melius, quicquid erit, pati. Steevens.

Note return to page 442 7Our fears do make us traitors.] i. e. our flight is considered as an evidence of our treason. Steevens.

Note return to page 443 8&lblank; natural touch:] Natural sensibility. He is not touched with natural affection. Johnson. So, in an ancient MS. play, intitled The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “&lblank; How she's beguil'd in him! “There's no such natural touch, search all his bosom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 444 9&lblank; the poor wren, &c.] The same thought occurs in The Third Part of King Henry VI.: “&lblank; doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. “Who hath not seen them (even with those wings “Which sometimes they have us'd in fearful flight) “Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, “Offering their own lives in their young's defence?” Steevens.

Note return to page 445 1The fits o' the season.] The fits of the season should appear to be, from the following passage in Coriolanus, the violent disorders of the season, its convulsions: “&lblank; but that “The violent fit o' th' times craves it as physick.” Steevens. Perhaps the meaning is,—what is most fitting to be done in every conjuncture. Anonymous.

Note return to page 446 2&lblank; when we are traitors, And do not know ourselves;] i. e. we think ourselves innocent, the government thinks us traitors; therefore we are ignorant of ourselves. This is the ironical argument. The Oxford editor alters it to— “And do not know't ourselves:” But sure they did know what they said, that the state esteemed them traitors. Warburton. Rather, when we are considered by the state as traitors, while at the same time we are unconscious of guilt; when we appear to others so different from what we really are, that we seem not to know ourselves. Malone.

Note return to page 447 3&lblank; when we hold rumour From what we fear,] To “hold rumour,” signifies to be governed by the authority of rumour. Warburton. I rather think to hold means, in this place, to believe, as we say, “I hold such a thing to be true, i. e. I take it, I believe it to be so.” Thus, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; Did you not of late days hear, &c. “1 Gen. Yes, but held it not.” The sense of the whole passage will then be: “The times are cruel when our fears induce us to believe, or take for granted, what we hear rumoured or reported abroad; and yet at the same time, as we live under a tyrannical government where will is substituted for law, we know not what we have to fear, because we know not when we offend.” Or; “When we are led by our fears to believe every rumour of danger we hear, yet are not conscious to ourselves of any crime for which we should be disturbed with those fears.” A passage like this occurs in King John: “Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams, “Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear.” This is the best I can make of the passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 448 4Each way, and move. &lblank;] Perhaps the poet wrote—“And each way move.” If they floated each way, it was needless to inform us that they moved. The words may have been casually transposed, and erroneously pointed. Steevens. Perhaps Shakspeare used it as a substantive: as a man in quitting a room is familiarly said to “make a move,” or as we say he “makes a move,” at chess or backgammon. Anonymous.

Note return to page 449 5Sirrah, your father's dead;] Sirrah, in our author's time, was not always a term of reproach, but sometimes used by masters to servants, parents to children, &c. So before, in this play, Macbeth says to his servant, “Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men “Our pleasure?” So Gabriel Harvey writes to Spenser: “But hoe I pray you, gentle sirra, a word with you more.” Malone.

Note return to page 450 6&lblank; in your state of honour I am perfect.] i. e. I am perfectly acquainted with your rank of honour. So, in the old book that treateth of the Lyfe of Virgil, &c. bl. l. no date: “&lblank; which when Virgil saw, he looked in his boke of negromancy, wherein he was perfit.” Again, in The Play of the four P's, 1569: “Pot. Then tell me this: Are you perfit in drinking? “Ped. Perfit in drinking as may be wish'd by thinking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 451 7To do worse to you, were fell cruelty.] To do worse is to let her and her children be destroyed without warning. Johnson. Mr. Edwards explains these words differently. “To do worse to you (says he) signifies,—to fright you more, by relating all the circumstances of your danger; which would detain you so long that you could not avoid it.” The meaning, however, may be, “To do worse to you,” not to disclose to you the perilous situation you are in, from a foolish apprehension of alarming you, would be fell cruelty. Or the Messenger may only mean, to do more than alarm you by this disagreeable intelligence,—to do you any actual and bodily harm, were fell cruelty. Malone. If to fright you thus seem savage, how fell must be the cruelty of those who seek your destruction. Boswell.

Note return to page 452 8&lblank; shag-ear'd villain.] Perhaps we should read shag-hair'd, for it is an abusive epithet very often used in our ancient plays, &c. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, Part II. 1630:— “&lblank; a shag-haired cur.” Again, in our author's King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; like a shag-haired crafty Kern.” Again, in Sir Arthur Gorge's translation of Lucan, 1614: “That shag-haired Caicos tam'd with forts.” And Chapman, in his translation of the seventh book of Homer, 1598, applies the same epithet to the Greeks. Again, in the spurious play of King Leir, 1605: “There she had set a shaghayr'd murdering wretch.” Again, in Barnaby Googe's version of Palingenius, 1561: “But sore afraid was I to meete   “The shagheard horson's horne.” It may be observed, that, in the seventh Iliad of Homer, the &grk;&graa;&grr;&grh; &grk;&groa;&grm;&gro;&grw;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; +&grA;&grx;&gra;&gri;&gro;&gria; are rendered by Arthur Hall, 1581, “&lblank; peruke Greekes.” And by Chapman, 1611, “&lblank; shag-haird Greekes.” Steevens. This emendation appears to me extremely probable. In King John, Act V. we find “unhear'd sauciness” for “unhair'd sauciness;” and we have had in this play hair instead of air. Hair was formerly written heare. Hence perhaps the mistake. So, in Ives's Select Papers, chiefly relating to English Antiquities, No. 3, p. 133: “&lblank; and in her heare a circlet of gold richely garnished.” In Lodge's Incarnate Devils of the Age, 4to. 1596, we find in p. 37, “shag-heard slave,” which still more strongly supports Mr. Steevens's emendation. However, as flap-ear'd is used as an epithet of contempt in The Taming of the Shrew, and prick-ear'd in Henry V. the old copy may be right. Malone. Mr. Steevens's emendation will be further confirmed by a reference to one of our Law Reporters. In 23 Car. I. Ch. Justice Rolle said it had been determined that these words, “Where is that long-locked, shag-haired murdering rogue?” were actionable. Aleyn's Reports, p. 61. Reed.

Note return to page 453 8Enter Malcolm and Macduff.] The part of Holinshed's Chronicle which relates to this play, is no more than an abridgment of John Bellenden's translation of The Noble Clerk, Hector Boece, imprinted at Edinburgh, 1541. For the satisfaction of the reader, I have inserted the words of the first mentioned historian, from whom this scene is almost literally taken:—“Though Malcolme was verie sorrowfull for the oppression of his countriemen the Scots, in manner as Makduffe had declared, yet doubting whether he was come as one that ment unfeinedlie as he spake, or else as sent from Makbeth to betraie him, he thought to have some further triall, and thereupon dissembling his mind at the first, he answered as followeth: “I am trulie verie sorie for the miserie chanced to my countrie of Scotland, but though I have never so great affection to relieve the same, yet by reason of certaine incurable vices, which reign in me, I am nothing meet thereto. First, such immoderate lust and voluptuous sensualite (the abhominable fountain of all vices) followeth me, that if I were made King of Scots, I should seek to defloure your maids and matrones, in such wise that my intemperancie should be more importable unto you than the bloudie tyrannie of Makbeth now is. Hereunto Makduffe answered: This surelie is a very euil fault, for manie noble princes and kings have lost both lives and kingdomes for the same; nevertheless there are women enow in Scotland, and therefore follow my counsell. Make thy selfe kinge, and I shall conveie the matter so wiselie, that thou shalt be satisfied at thy pleasure in such secret wise, that no man shall be aware thereof. “Then said Malcolme, I am also the most avaritious creature in the earth, so that if I were king, I should seeke so manie waies to get lands and goods, that I would slea the most part of all the nobles of Scotland by surmized accusations, to the end I might injoy their lands, goods and possessions; and therefore to shew you what mischiefe may insue on you through mine unsatiable covetousnes, I will rehearse unto you a fable. There was a fox having a sore place on him overset with a swarme of flies, that continuallie sucked out hir bloud: and when one that came by and saw this manner, demanded whether she would have the flies driven beside hir, she answered no; for if these flies that are alreadie full, and by reason thereof sucke not verie eagerlie, should be chased awaie, other that are emptie and fellie an hungred, should light in their places, and sucke out the residue of my bloud farre more to my greevance than these, which now being satisfied doo not much annoie me. Therefore saith Malcolme, Suffer me to remaine where I am, lest if I atteine to the regiment of your realme, mine unquenchable avarice may proove such, that ye would thinke the displeasures which now grieve you, should seeme easie in respect of the unmeasurable outrage which might insue through my comming amongst you. “Makduffe to this made answer, how it was a far woorse fault than the other: for avarice is the root of all mischiefe, and for that crime the most part of our kings have been slaine, and brought to their finall end. Yet notwithstanding follow my counsell, and take upon thee the crowne. There is gold and riches inough in Scotland to satisfie thy greedie desire. Then said Malcolme again, I am furthermore inclined to dissimulation, telling of leasings, and all other kinds of deceit, so that I naturallie rejoise in nothing so much, as to betraie and deceive such as put anie trust or confidence in my woords. Then sith there is nothing that more becommeth a prince than constancie, veritie, truth, and justice, with the other laudable fellowship of those faire and noble vertues which are comprehended onelie in sooth-fastnesse, and that lieng utterlie overthroweth the same, you see how unable I am to governe anie province or region: and therefore sith you have remedies to cloke and hide all the rest of my other vices, I praie you find shift to cloke this vice amongst the residue. “Then said Makduffe: “This is yet the woorst of all, and there I leave thee, and therefore saie; Oh ye unhappie and miserable Scotishmen, which are thus scourged with so manie and sundrie calamities ech one above other! Ye have one cursed and wicked tyrant that now reigneth over you, without anie right or title, oppressing you with his most bloudie crueltie. This other that hath the right to the crowne, is so replet with the inconstant behaviour and manifest vices of Englishmen, that he is nothing woorthie to injoy it: for by his owne confession he is not onlie avaritious and given to unsatiable lust, but so false a traitor withall, that no trust is to be had unto anie woord he speaketh. Adieu Scotland, for now I account my selfe a banished man for ever, without comfort or consolation: and with these woords the brackish tears trickled downe his cheekes verie abundantlie. “At the last, when he was readie to depart, Malcolme tooke him by the sleeve, and said: Be of good comfort Makduffe, for I have none of these vices before remembered, but have jested with thee in this manner, onlie to prove thy mind: for divers times heretofore Makbeth sought by this manner of means to bring me into his hand,” &c. Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 175. Steevens.

Note return to page 454 9&lblank; the mortal sword; &lblank;] i. e. the deadly sword. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Or bide the mortal fortune of the field.”

Note return to page 455 1Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom:] The old copy has— down-fall. Corrected by Dr. Johnson. Malone. He who can discover what is meant by him that earnestly exhorts him to bestride his downfall birthdom, is at liberty to adhere to the present text; but it is probable that Shakspeare wrote: “&lblank; like good men, “Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom &lblank;.” The allusion is to a man from whom something valuable is about to be taken by violence, and who, that he may defend it without incumbrance, lays it on the ground, and stands over it with his weapon in his hand. Our birthdom, our birthright, says he, lies on the ground; let us, like men who are to fight for what is dearest to them, not abandon it, but stand over it and defend it. This is a strong picture of obstinate resolution. So, Falstaff says to Hal: “If thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so.” Birthdom for birthright is formed by the same analogy with masterdom in this play, signifying the privileges or rights of a master. Perhaps it might be birth-dame for mother; let us stand over our mother that lies bleeding on the ground. Johnson. There is no need of change. In The Second Part of King Henry IV. Morton says: “&lblank; he doth bestride a bleeding land.” Steevens. King Henry IV. Act V. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 456 2&lblank; and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour.] This presents a ridiculous image. But what is insinuated under it is noble; that the portents and prodigies in the skies, of which mention is made before, showed that heaven sympathised with Scotland. Warburton. The ridicule, I believe, is only visible to the commentator. Steevens.

Note return to page 457 3&lblank; to friend,] i. e. to befriend. Steevens.

Note return to page 458 4You may deserve of him through me;] The old copy reads —discerne. The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald, who supports it by Macduff's answer: “I am not treacherous.” Malone.

Note return to page 459 5&lblank; and wisdom &lblank;] That is, and 'tis wisdom. Heath. The sense of this passage is obvious, but the construction difficult, as there is no verb to which wisdom can refer. Something is omitted, either through the negligence of the printer, or probably the inadvertence of the author. If we read— “&lblank; And think it wisdom &lblank;” the sense will be supplied; but that would destroy the metre; and so indeed would the insertion of any word whatever. M. Mason. I suspect this line to have suffered by interpolation, as well as omission, and that it originally ran thus: “&lblank; but something “You may deserve through me; and wisdom is it “To offer,” &c. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Now is it manhood, wisdom and defence.” Had the passage in question been first printed thus, would any reader have supposed the words “of him,” were wanting to the sense? In this play I have already noted several instances of manifest interpolation and omission. See notes on Act I. Sc. III. p. 28, n. 9. and Act III. Sc. V p. 182, n. 1. Steevens.

Note return to page 460 6A good and virtuous nature may recoil, In an imperial charge.] A good mind may recede from goodness in the execution of a royal commission. Johnson.

Note return to page 461 7&lblank; But 'crave your pardon;] The old copy, without attention to measure, reads: “&lblank; But I shall crave your pardon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 462 8Though all things foul, &c.] This is not very clear. The meaning, perhaps, is this:—“My suspicions cannot injure you, if you be virtuous, by supposing that a traitor may put on your virtuous appearance. I do not say that your virtuous appearance proves you a traitor; for virtue must wear its proper form, though that form be counterfeited by villainy.” Johnson. An expression of a similar nature occurs in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; Good alone “Is good; without a name vileness is so.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 463 9Why in that rawness &lblank;] Without previous provision, without due preparation, without maturity of counsel. Johnson. I meet with this expression in Lyly's Euphues, 1580, and in the quarto, 1608, of King Henry V.: “Some their wives rawly left.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 1For goodness dares not check thee!] The old copy reads—dare. Corrected in the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 465 2&lblank; wear thou thy wrongs,] That is, ‘Poor country, wear thou thy wrongs.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 466 3Thy title is affeer'd!] Affeer'd, a law term for confirm'd. Pope. What Mr. Pope says of the law term is undoubtedly true; but is there absolute reason why we should have recourse to it for the explanation of this passage? Macduff first apostrophises his country, and afterwards pointing to Malcolm, may say, that his title was afear'd, i. e. frighted from exerting itself. Throughout the ancient editions of Shakspeare, the word afraid is frequently written as it was formerly pronounced, afear'd. The old copy reads—“The title,” &c. i. e. ‘the regal title is afraid to assert itself.’ I have, however, adopted Mr. Malone's emendation, as it varies, but in a single letter, from the reading of the old copy. See his subsequent note. Steevens. If we read—“The title is affeer'd,” the meaning may be:— ‘Poor country, wear thou thy wrongs, the title to them is legally settled by those who had the final judication of it.’ Affeerers had the power of confirming, or moderating, fines and amercements. Tollet. To affeer (for so it should be written) is to assess, or reduce to certainty. All amerciaments—that is, judgments of any court of justice, upon a presentment or other proceeding, that a party shall be amerced, or in mercy,—are by Magna Charta to be affeered by lawful men, sworn to be impartial. This is the ordinary practice of a Court Leet, with which Shakspeare seems to have been intimately acquainted, and where he might have occasionally acted as an affeerer. Ritson. For the emendation now made I am answerable. The was, I conceive, the transcriber's mistake, from the similar sounds of the and thy, which are frequently pronounced alike. Perhaps the meaning is,—“Poor country, wear thou thy wrongs! Thy title to them is now fully established by law.” Or, perhaps, he addresses Malcolm. Continue to endure tamely the wrongs you suffer: thy just title to the throne is cow'd, has not spirit to establish itself. Malone.

Note return to page 467 4&lblank; confineless harms.] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; thou unconfinable baseness &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 468 5Sudden, malicious,] Sudden, for capricious. Warburton. Rather, violent, passionate, hasty. Johnson.

Note return to page 469 6Boundless intemperance &lblank;] Perhaps the epithet—boundless, which overloads the metre, was a play-house interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 7&lblank; grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust;] Summer-seeming has no manner of sense: correct, “Than summer-teeming lust &lblank;;” i. e. the passion that lasts no longer than the heat of life, and which goes off in the winter of age. Warburton. When I was younger and bolder, I corrected it thus: “Than fume, or seething lust.” That is, an angry passion, or boiling lust. Johnson. Summer-seeming lust, may signify lust that seems as hot as summer. Steevens. Read—summer-seeding. The allusion is to plants; and the sense is,—“Avarice is a perennial weed; it has a deeper and more pernicious root than lust, which is a mere annual, and lasts but for a summer, when it sheds its seed and decays.” Blackstone. I have paid the attention to this conjecture which I think it deserves, by admitting it into the text. Steevens. Summer-seeming is, I believe, the true reading. In Donne's Poems we meet with “winter-seeming.” Malone. Sir W. Blackstone's elegant emendation is countenanced by the following passages: Thus, in The Rape of Lucrece: “How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, “When thus thy vices bud before thy spring?” And in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; The seeded pride “That hath to its maturity grown up “In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, “Or, shedding, breed a nursery of evil, “To over-bulk us all.” Henley.

Note return to page 471 8&lblank; foysons &lblank;] Plenty. Pope. It means provisions in plenty. So, in The Ordinary, by Cartwright: “New foysons byn ygraced with new titles.” The word was antiquated in the time of Cartwright, and is by him put into the mouth of an antiquary. Again, in Holinshed's Reign of King Henry VI. p. 1613: “&lblank; fifteene hundred men, and great foison of vittels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 472 9&lblank; All these are portable,] Portable is, perhaps, here used for supportable. ‘All these vices, being balanced by your virtues, may be endured.’ Malone. Portable answers exactly to a phrase now in use. Such failings may be borne with, or are bearable. Steevens.

Note return to page 473 1&lblank; Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.] Malcolm, I think, means to say, that if he had ability, he would pour all that milk of human kindness, which is so beneficial to mankind, into the abyss, so as to leave the earth without any portion of it; and that by thus depriving mankind of those humane affections which are so necessary to their mutual happiness, he will throw the whole world into confusion. Malone. I believe, all that Malcolm designs to say is,—that, if he had power, he would even annihilate the gentle source or principle of peace: pour the soft milk by which it is nourished, among the flames of hell, which could not fail to dry it up. Lady Macbeth has already observed that her husband was “too full of the milk of human kindness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 474 2&lblank; an untitled tyrant &lblank;] Thus, in Chaucer's Manciple's Tale: “Right so betwix a titleles tiraunt “And an outlawe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 3Died every day she lived.] The expression is borrowed from the sacred writings: “I protest by your rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus, I die daily.” Malone. J. Davies, of Hereford, in his Epigram on—A proud lying Dyer, has the same allusion: “Yet (like the mortifide) he dyes to live.” To die unto sin, and to live unto righteousness, are phrases employed in our Liturgy. Steevens.

Note return to page 476 4From over-credulous haste:] From over-hasty credulity. Malone.

Note return to page 477 5&lblank; thy here-approach,] The old copy has—they here. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 478 *First folio, Already.

Note return to page 479 6&lblank; ten thousand warlike men, All ready at a point,] At a point, may mean ‘all ready at a time;’ but Shakspeare meant more: he meant both time and place, and certainly wrote: “All ready at appoint &lblank;.” i. e. at the place appointed, at the rendezvous. Warburton. There is no need of change. Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. ii.: “A faithlesse Sarazin all arm'd to point.” Malone.

Note return to page 480 7&lblank; And the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel!] The chance of goodness, as it is commonly read, conveys no sense. If there be not some more important error in the passage, it should at least be pointed thus: “&lblank; and the chance, of goodness, “Be like our warranted quarrel! &lblank;” That is, may the event be, of the goodness of heaven, [pro justicia divina,] answerable to the cause. Mr. Heath conceives the sense of the passage to be rather this: ‘And may the success of that goodness, which is about to exert itself in my behalf be such as may be equal to the justice of my quarrel.’ But I am inclined to believe that Shakspeare wrote: “&lblank; and the chanee, O goodness, “Be like our warranted quarrel! &lblank;” This some of his transcribers wrote with a small o, which another imagined to mean of. If we adopt this reading, the sense will be: ‘And O thou sovereign goodness, to whom we now appeal, may our fortune answer to our cause.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 481 8&lblank; convinces &lblank;] i. e. overpowers, subdues. See p. 85, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 482 9The mere despair of surgery, he cures;] Dr. Percy, in his notes on The Northumberland Houshold Book, says, “that our ancient kings even in those dark times of superstition, do not seem to have affected the cure of the king's evil.—This miraculous gift was left to be claimed by the Stuarts: our ancient Plantagenets were humbly content to cure the cramp.” In this assertion, however, the learned editor of the above curious volume has been betrayed into a mistake, by relying too implicitly on the authority of Mr. Anstis. The power of curing the king's evil was claimed by many of the Plantagenets. Dr. Borde, who wrote in the time of Henry the VIIIth, says, “The kynges of England by the power that God hath given to them dothe make sicke men whole of a sycknes called the Kynge's Evyll.” In Laneham's Account of the Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, it is said, “&lblank; and also by her highness [Q. Elizabeth] accustomed mercy and charitee, nyne cured of the peynful and dangerous diseaz called the King's Evil, for that kings and queens of this realm without oother medsin, (save only by handling and prayer,) only doo it.” Polydore Virgil asserts the same; and Will. Tooker, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, published a book on this subject, an account of which is to be seen in Dr. Douglas's treatise, entitled, The Criterion, p. 191. See Dodsley's Collection of old Plays, vol. xii. p. 428, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 483 1&lblank; a golden stamp, &c.] This was the coin called an angel. So, Shakspeare, in The Merchant of Venice: “A coin that bears the figure of an angel “Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon.” The value of the coin was ten shillings. Steevens.

Note return to page 484 2&lblank; and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction.] It must be owned, that Shakspeare is often guilty of strange absurdities in point of history and chronology. Yet here he has artfully avoided one. He had a mind to hint, that the cure of the evil was to descend to the successors in the royal line, in compliment to James the First. But the Confessor was the first who pretended to the gift: How then could it be at that time generally spoken of, that the gift was hereditary? This he has solved by telling us that Edward had the gift of prophecy along with it. Warburton. Dr. Warburton here invents an objection, in order to solve it. “The Confessor (says he) was the first who pretended to this gift: how then could it be at that time generally spoken of, that the gift was hereditary? This he [Shakspeare] has solved, by telling us that Edward had the gift of prophecy along with it.” But Shakspeare does not say, that it was hereditary in Edward, or, in other words, that he had inherited this extraordinary power from his ancestors; but that “it was generally spoken, that he leaves the healing benediction to succeeding kings:” and such a rumour there might be in the time of Edward the Confessor, (supposing he had such a gift,) without his having the gift of prophecy along with it. Shakspeare has merely transcribed what he found in Holinshed, without the conceit which Dr. Warburton has imputed to him: “As hath beene thought, he was inspired with the gift of prophesie, and also to have had the gift of healing infirmities and diseases. He used to helpe those that were vexed with the disease commonlie called the King's Evil, and left that virtue as it were a portion of inheritance unto his successors, the kings of this realme.” Holinshed, vol. i. p. 195. Malone.

Note return to page 485 3My countryman; but yet I know him not.] Malcolm discovers Rosse to be his countryman, while he is yet at some distance from him, by his dress. This circumstance loses its propriety on our stage, as all the characters are uniformly represented in English habits. Steevens. This has long been reformed on the stage, which, in point of costume, as in every other respect, is under the highest obligations to the taste and knowledge of Mr. Kemble. Boswell.

Note return to page 486 4&lblank; rent the air,] To rent is an ancient verb, which has been long ago disused. So, in Cæsar and Pompey, 1607: “With rented hair and eyes besprent with tears.” Steevens. Again, in The Legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, 1597: “While with his fingers he his haire doth rent.” Malone.

Note return to page 487 5A modern ecstacy:] That is, no more regarded than the contorsions that fanatics throw themselves into. The author was thinking of those of his own times. Warburton. I believe modern is only foolish or trifling. Johnson. Modern is generally used by Shakspeare to signify trite, common; as “modern instances,” in As You Like It, &c. &c. See vol. vi. p. 409, n. 4. Steevens. Ecstacy is used by Shakspeare for a temporary alienation of mind. Malone.

Note return to page 488 6Expire before the flowers in their caps,] So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; whose constancies “Expire before their fashions.” Steevens.

Note return to page 489 7Too nice, and yet too true!] The redundancy of this hemistich induces me to believe our author only wrote— “Too nice, yet true!” Steevens.

Note return to page 490 8Why, well. &lblank; Well too.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; We use “To say, the dead are well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 491 9&lblank; children?] Children is, in this place, used as a trisyllable. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “These are the parents to these children.” See note on this passage, vol. iv. p. 265. Steevens.

Note return to page 492 1To doff their dire distresses.] To doff is to do off, to put off. See King John, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 2&lblank; should not latch them.] Thus the old copy, and rightly. To latch any thing, is to lay hold of it. So, in the prologue to Gower, De Confessione Amantis, 1554: “Hereof for that thei wolden lache, “With such duresse,” &c. Again, book i. fol. 27: “When that he Galathe besought “Of love, which he maie not latche.” Again, in the first book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, as translated by Golding: “As though he would, at everie stride, betweene his teeth hir latch.” Again, in the eighth book: “But that a bough of chesnut-tree, thick-leaved, by the way “Did latch it,” &c. To latch (in the North country dialect) signifies the same as to catch. Steevens.

Note return to page 494 3&lblank; fee-grief,] A peculiar sorrow; a grief that hath a single owner. The expression is, at least to our ears, very harsh. Johnson. So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “My woeful self that did in freedom stand, “And was my own fee-simple.” Malone. It must, I think, be allowed that, in both the foregoing instances, the Attorney has been guilty of a flat trespass on the Poet. Steevens.

Note return to page 495 4Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,] Quarry is a term used both in hunting and falconry. In both sports it means the game after it is killed. So, in Massinger's Guardian: “&lblank; he strikes “The trembling bird, who even in death appears “Proud to be made his quarry.” Again, in an ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng that is cleped Mayster of Game: “While that the huntyng lesteth, should cartes go fro place to place to bringe the deer to the querre,” &c. “to kepe the querre, and to make ley it on a rowe, al the hedes o way, and every deeres feet to other's bak, and the hertes should be leyde on a rowe, and the rascaile by hemselfe in the same wise. And thei shuld kepe that no man come in the querre til the king come, saif the maister of the game.” It appears, in short, that the game was arranged in a hollow square, within which none but privileged persons, such as had claims to the particular animals they had killed, were permitted to enter. Hence, perhaps, the origin of the term quarry. Steevens.

Note return to page 496 5&lblank; ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;] The same thought occurs in the ancient ballad of Northumberland betrayed by Douglas: “He pulled his hatt down over his browe, “And in his heart he was full woe,” &c. Again: “Jamey his hatt pull'd over his brow,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 497 6&lblank; the grief, that does not speak,] So, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “Those are the killing griefs, which dare not speak.”   Curæ leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent. Again, in Greene's old bl. l. novel entitled The Tragicall History of Faire Bellora: “Light sorrowes often speake, “When great the heart in silence breake.” Steevens. In Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1595, we have the like sentiment: “Striving to tell his woes words would not come: “For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dombe.” Reed. So, in Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; the heart hath treble wrong, “When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.” Malone.

Note return to page 498 7He has no children.] It has been observed by an anonymous critick, that this is not said of Macbeth, who had children, but of Malcolm, who, having none, supposes a father can be so easily comforted. Johnson. The meaning of this may be, either that Macduff could not, by retaliation, revenge the murder of his children, because Macbeth had none himself; or that if he had any, a father's feelings for a father would have prevented him from the deed. I know not from what passage we are to infer that Macbeth had children alive. Holinshed's Chronicle does not, as I remember, mention any. The same thought occurs again in King John: “He talks to me that never had a son.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “You have no children: butchers, if you had, “The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.” Steevens. Surely the latter of the two interpretations offered by Mr. Steevens is the true one, supposing these words to relate to Macbeth. The passage, however, quoted from King John, seems in favour of the supposition that these words relate to Malcolm. That Macbeth had children at some period, appears from what Lady Macbeth says in the first Act: “I have given suck,” &c. I am still more strongly confirmed in thinking these words relate to Malcolm, and not to Macbeth, because Macbeth had a son then alive, named Lulah, who after his father's death was proclaimed king by some of his friends, and slain at Strathbolgie, about four months after the battle of Dunsinane. See Fordun. Scoti-Chron. l. v. c. viii. Whether Shakspeare was apprized of this circumstance, cannot be now ascertained; but we cannot prove that he was unacquainted with it. Malone. My copy of the Scotichronicon (Goodall's edit. vol. i. p. 252,) affords me no reason for supposing that Lulach was a son of Macbeth. The words of Fordun are:—“Subito namque post mortem Machabedæ convenerunt quidam ex ejus parentela sceleris hujusmodi fautores, suum consobrinum, nomine Lulach, ignomine fatuum, ad Sconam ducentes, et impositum sede regali constituunt regem,” &c. Nor does Wyntown, in his Cronykil, so much as hint that this mock-monarch was the immediate offspring of his predecessor: “Eftyre all this, that ilke yhere, “That this Makbeth was browcht on bere, “Lulawch fule ras, and he “As kyng regnyd monethis thre. “This Malcolme gert sla hym syne “Wyth-in the land of Straybolgyne.” B. vi. 47, &c. It still therefore remains to be proved that “Macbeth had a son then alive.” Besides, we have been already assured, by himself, on the authority of the Witches, p. 142, that his scepter would pass away into another family, “no son of his succeeding.” Steevens. Upon comparing Mr. Steevens's quotation from Fordun, with the more correct edition by Hearne, I am satisfied that Mr. Malone was inaccurate in producing that historian as an authority for Lulah, Lulach, Luthlac, or Lugtag, (for by all these names is he mentioned,) being the son of Macbeth. By a slip of memory, or an incorrect memorandum, he was probably led to confound Fordun with Buchanan, whose words are these:—“Hæc dum Forfaræ geruntur, qui supererant ex factione Macbethi, filium ejus Luthlacum (cui ex ingenio cognomen inditum erat Fatuo) Sconam ductum regem appellant.” Fordun does not express this, indeed, but he does not contradict it. Suum consobrinum may mean, their relation, i. e. of the same clan. Mr. Steevens's last argument might be turned the other way. That his son should not succeed him, would more afflict a man who had a son than one who was childless. Boswell.

Note return to page 499 8At one fell swoop?] Swoop is the descent of a bird of prey on his quarry. So, in The White Devil, 1612: “That she may take away all at one swoop.” Again, in The Beggar's Bush, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; no star prosperous! “All at a swoop.” It is frequently, however, used by Drayton, in his Polyolbion, to express the swift descent of rivers. Steevens.

Note return to page 500 9Dispute it like a man.] i. e contend with your present sorrow like a man. So, in Twelfth Night, Act IV. Sc. III.: “For though my soul disputes well with my sense,” &c. Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 501 1Cut short all intermission;] i. e. all pause, all interventing time. So, in King Lear: “Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission.” Steevens.

Note return to page 502 2&lblank; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!] That is, ‘if he escape my vengeance, let him escape that of Heaven also.’ An expression nearly similar occurs in The Chances, where Petruchio, speaking of the Duke, says: “He scap'd me yesternight; which if he dare “Again adventure for, heaven pardon him! “I shall, with all my heart.” M. Mason. The meaning, I believe, is,—‘If heaven be so unjust as to let him escape my vengeance, I am content that it should proceed still further in its injustice, and to impunity in this world add forgiveness hereafter.’ Malone.

Note return to page 503 3This tune &lblank;] The folio reads—This time. Tune is Rowe's emendation. Steevens. The emendation is supported by a former passage in this play, where the word is used in a similar manner: “Macb. Went it not so? “Banq. To the self-same tune and words.” Malone.

Note return to page 504 4Put on their instruments.] i. e. encourage, thrust forward us their instruments against the tyrant. So, in King Lear, Act I. Sc. IV. vol. x. p. 60: “That you protect this course, and put it on “By your allowance.” Again, in Chapman's version of the eleventh Iliad: “For Jove makes Trojans instruments, and virtually then “Wields arms himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 505 5Since his majesty went into the field,] This is one of Shakspeare's oversights. He forgot that he had shut up Macbeth in Dunsinane, and surrounded him with besiegers. That he could not go into the field, is observed by himself with splenetic impatience: “&lblank; our castle's strength “Will laugh a siege to scorn. Here let them lie “Till famine and the ague eat them up. “Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, “We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, “And beat them backward home.” It is clear also, from other passages, that Macbeth's motions had long been circumscribed by the walls of his fortress. The truth may be, that Shakspeare thought the spirit of Lady Macbeth could not be so effectually subdued, and her peace of mind so speedily unsettled by reflection on her guilt, as during the absence of her husband: &lblank; deserto jacuit dum frigida lecto, Dum queritur tardos ire relicta dies. For the present change in her disposition, therefore, our poet (though in the haste of finishing his play he forgot his plan) might mean to have provided, by allotting her such an interval of solitude as would subject her mind to perturbation, and dispose her thoughts to repentance. It does not appear, from any circumstance within the compass of this drama, that she had once been separated from her husband, after his return from the victory over Macdonwald, and the King of Norway. Steevens. Yet Rosse says, [p. 232.] that ‘he saw the tyrant's power a-foot.’ The strength of his adversaries, and the revolt of his own troops, mentioned in a subsequent scene, might compel him to retreat into his castle. Boswell.

Note return to page 506 6&lblank; her eyes are open.] So, in The Tempest: “This is a strange repose, to be asleep “With eyes wide open,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 507 7Ay, but their sense are shut.] Thus the old copy; and so the author certainly wrote, though it sounds very harshly to our ears. So again, in his 112th Sonnet: “In so profound abysm I throw all care “Of others' voices, that my adder's sense “To critick and to flatterer stopped are.” Malone. In the Sonnet our author was compelled to sacrifice grammar to the convenience of rhyme. In the passage before us, he was free from such constraint. What, therefore, should forbid us to read, as in my text?— “Ay, but their sense is shut.” Steevens. We have the same inaccurate grammar in Julius Cæsar, where no rhyme was required— “The posture of his blows are yet unknown.” Malone.

Note return to page 508 8Yet here's a spot.] A passage somewhat similar occurs in Webster's Vittoria Corombona, &c. 1612: “&lblank; Here's a white hand! “Can blood so soon be wash'd out?” Webster's play was published in 1612; Shakspeare's in 1623. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 9&lblank; One; Two;] Macbeth does not, previously to the murder, mention the hour at which Lady Macbeth is to strike upon the bell, which was to be the signal for his going into Duncan's chamber to execute his wicked purpose; but it seems that Lady Macbeth is now thinking of the moment when she rang the bell; and that two o'clock was the hour when the deed was perpetrated. This agrees with the scene that immediately precedes the murder, but not with that which follows it. See p. 118, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 510 1&lblank; Hell is murky!] Murky is dark. So, in The Tempest, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; the murkiest den “The most opportune place,” &c. Lady Macbeth is acting over, in a dream, the business of the murder of Duncan, and encouraging her husband as when awake. She, therefore, would not have even hinted the terrors of hell to one whose conscience she saw was too much alarmed already for her purpose. She certainly imagines herself here talking to Macbeth, who, (she supposes,) had just said, Hell is murky, (i. e. hell is a dismal place to go to in consequence of such a deed,) and repeats his words in contempt of his cowardice. “Hell is murky!—Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear'd?” This explanation, I think, gives a spirit to the passage, which has hitherto appeared languid, being perhaps misapprehended by those who placed a full point at the conclusion of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 511 2&lblank; who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?] Statius, in a passage already quoted, speaking of the sword by which an old man was slain, calls it egentem sanguinis ensem; and Ovid, [Met. l. vii.] describing a wound inflicted on a superannuated ram, has the same circumstance: &lblank; guttura cultro Fodit, et exiguo maculavit sanguine ferrum. Steevens.

Note return to page 512 3&lblank; you mar all with this starting.] Alluding to the terrors of Macbeth, when the Ghost broke in on the festivity of the banquet. Steevens.

Note return to page 513 4To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate.] Lady Macbeth, in her sleep, is talking of Duncan's murder, and recalls to her mind the circumstance of the knocking at the gate just after it. A. C.

Note return to page 514 5My mind she has mated,] Astonished, confounded. Johnson. The expression is taken from chess-playing: “&lblank; that so young a warrior “Should bide the shock of such approved knights, “As he this day hath match'd and mated too.” Soliman and Perseda. “&lblank; woman, “Worse than Medusa mateth all our minds.” Orlando Furioso, by R. Greene, 1599. “Not mad, but mated.” Comedy of Errors. In the following instances, (both taken from the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, MS.) the allusion to chess is still more evident: “The dikes there so develye depe “Thai held them selfe chek mate.” P. 7. “Richard raught him with a barr of bras “That he caught at the gate; “He brake his legges, he cryed alas, “And felle alle chek mate.” Steevens. Scory, in the commendatory verses prefixed to Drayton's Heroicall Epistles, makes use of this phrase, and exactly in the same sense: “Yet with these broken reliques, mated mind, “And what a justly-grieved thought can say.” Holt White. Our author, as well as his contemporaries, seems to have used the word as explained by Dr. Johnson. Mr. Pope supposes mated to mean here conquered or subdued; but that clearly is not the sense affixed to it by Shakspeare; though the etymology, supposing the expression to be taken from chess-playing, might favour such an interpretation. “Cum sublatis gregariis agitur regis de vita et sanguine, sic cum nulla est elabendi via, nullum subterfugium, qui vicit, mate, inquit, quasi matado; i. e. occisus, killed, a mater, [Hispan.] occidere.” Minsheu's Dict. in v. Mate. The original word was to amate, which Bullokar, in his Expositor, 8vo. 1616, explains by the words, “to dismay, to make afraid;” so that to mate, as commonly used by our old writers, has no reference to chess-playing. Malone.

Note return to page 515 6His uncle Siward,] “Duncan had two sons (says Holinshed) by his wife, who was the daughter of Siward, Earl of Northumberland.” See, however, a note on the Personæ Dramatis. Steevens.

Note return to page 516 7Excite the mortified man.] Mr. Theobald will needs explain this expression. “It means (says he) the man who has abandoned himself to despair, who has no spirit or resolution left.” And, to support this sense of mortified man, he quotes mortified spirit in another place. But, if this was the meaning, Shakspeare had not wrote “the mortified man,” but “a mortified man.” In a word, by the mortified man, is meant a religious; one who has subdued his passions, is dead to the world, has abandoned it, and all the affairs of it: an Ascetic. Warburton. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “He like a mortified hermit sits.” Again, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “I perceived in the words of the hermit the perfect idea of a mortified man.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act I. Sc. I.: “My loving lord, Dumain is mortified; “The grosser manner of this world's delights “He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 517 8&lblank; unrough youths,] An odd expression. It means smooth-faced, unbearded. Steevens. See The Tempest: “&lblank;till new-born chins “Be rough and razorable.” Again, in King John: “This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, “The king doth smile at.” Malone.

Note return to page 518 9He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.] The same metaphor occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “And buckle in a waist most fathomless.” Steevens.

Note return to page 519 1When all that is within him does condemn Itself, for being there?] That is, when all the faculties of the mind are employed in self-condemnation. Johnson.

Note return to page 520 2&lblank; the medecin &lblank;] i. e. physician. Shakspeare uses this word in the feminine gender, where Lafeu speaks of Helen in All's Well That Ends Well; and Florizel, in The Winter's Tale, calls Camillo “the medecin of our house.” Steevens.

Note return to page 521 3To dew the sovereign flower, &c.] This uncommon verb occurs in Look About You, 1600: “Dewing your princely hand with pity's tears.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. viii.: “Dew'd with her, drops of bounty soveraigne.” Steevens.

Note return to page 522 4Bring me no more reports, &c.] “Tell me not any more of desertions:—Let all my subjects leave me:—I am safe till,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 523 5All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus:] The old copy reads— “All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus.” But the line must originally have ran as I have printed it:— Currents, consequents, occurrents, ingredients, &c. are always spelt, in the ancient copies of our author's plays, “currence, consequence, occurrence, ingredience,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 524 6&lblank; on thee.] Old copy—upon. Steevens.

Note return to page 525 7&lblank; English epicures:] The reproach of epicurism, on which Mr. Theobald has bestowed a note, is nothing more than a natural invective uttered by an inhabitant of a barren country, against those who have more opportunities of luxury. Johnson. Of the ancient poverty of Scotland, the following mention is made by Froissart, vol. ii. cap. ii.: “They be lyke wylde and savage people—they dought ever to lese that they have, for it is a poore countrey. And when the Englyshe men maketh any roode or voyage into the countrey, if they thynke to lyve, they must cause their provysion and vitayle to followe theym at their backe, for they shall fynde nothyng in that countrey,” &c. Shakspeare, however, took the thought from Holinshed, p. 179 and 180, of his History of Scotland: “&lblank; The Scotish people before had no knowledge nor understanding of fine fare or riotous surfet; yet after they had once tasted the sweet poisoned bait thereof, &c.—those superfluities which came into the realme of Scotland with the Englishmen,” &c. Again: “For manie of the people abhorring the riotous manners and superfluous gormandizing brought in among them by the Englyshemen, were willing inough to receive this Donald for their king, trusting (because he had beene brought up in the Isles, with the old customes and manners of their antient nation, without tast of English likerous delicats), they should by his seuere order in gouernement recouer againe the former temperance of their old progenitors.” The same historian informs us, that in those ages the Scots eat but once a day, and even then very sparingly. It appears from Dr. Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, that the natives had neither kail nor brogues, till they were taught the art of planting the one, and making the other, by the soldiers of Cromwell; and yet King James VI. in his 7th parliament, thought it necessary to form an act “against superfluous banqueting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 526 8Shall never sagg with doubt,] To sag, or swag, is to sink down by its own weight, or by an overload. See Junius's Etymologicon. It is common in Staffordshire to say, “a beam in a building sags, or has sagged.” Tollet. So, in the 16th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “This said, the aged Street sag'd sadly on alone.” Drayton is personifying one of the old Roman ways. Again, in The Misfortunes of Arthur, 1587: “The more his state and tottering empire sagges.” Steevens. Again, in Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595: “He tooke exceptions to his traveller's bag, which he wore sagging down his belly before.” Malone.

Note return to page 527 9&lblank; loon!] At present this word is only used in Scotland, and signifies a base fellow. So, in Marlowe's tragedy of King Edward II. 1598: “For shame subscribe! and let the lowne depart.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, second part, 1630: “The sturdy beggar, and the lazy lowne.” King Stephen, in the old song, called his taylor, loon. Steevens.

Note return to page 528 1Where got'st thou that goose look?] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; ye souls of geese, “That bear the shape of men, how have ye run “From slaves that apes would beat?” Malone.

Note return to page 529 2&lblank; lily-liver'd boy.] Chapman thus translates a passage in the 20th Iliad: “&lblank; his sword that made a vent for his white liver's blood, “That caus'd such pitiful effects &lblank;.” Again, Falstaff says, in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 530 3&lblank; patch?] An appellation of contempt, alluding to the pied, patched, or particoloured coats anciently worn by the fools belonging to noble families. Steevens.

Note return to page 531 4&lblank; those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear.] The meaning is, they infect others who see them, with cowardice. Warburton. In King Henry V. his Majesty says to the Conspirators— “Your cheeks are paper.” Steevens.

Note return to page 532 5&lblank; whey-face?] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, 4to. edit. 1619: “&lblank; and has as it were a whey-coloured beard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 6&lblank; or disseat me now.] The old copy reads disseat, though modern editors have substituted disease in its room. The word disseat occurs in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shakspeare, scene the last, where Perithous is describing the fall of Arcite from his horse: “&lblank; seeks all foul means “Of boisterous and rough jadry, to disseat “His lord that kept it bravely.” Dr. Percy would read: “Will chair me ever, or disseat me now.” It is still, however, possible, that disease may be the true reading. Thus, in N. Breton's Toyes of an Idle Head, 1577: “My ladies maydes too I must please,   “But chiefely Mistress Anne, “For else by the masse she will disease   “Me vyly now and than.” Disease is the reading of the second folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 534 7I have liv'd long enough: my way of life, &c.] As there is no relation between the way of life, and fallen into the sear, I am inclined to think that the W is only an M inverted, and that it was originally written: “&lblank; my May of life.” “I am now passed from the spring to the autumn of my days: but I am without those comforts that should succeed the sprightliness of bloom, and support me in this melancholy season.” The author has May in the same sense elsewhere. Johnson. An anonymous writer [Dr. Johnson, whose Remarks on this tragedy were originally published, without his name, in 1745,] would have it: “&lblank; my May of life:” But he did not consider that Macbeth is not here speaking of his rule or government, or of any sudden change; but of the gradual decline of life, as appears from that line: “And that, which should accompany old age.” And way is used for course, progress. Warburton. To confirm the justness of “May of life” for “way of life,” Mr. Colman quotes from Much Ado About Nothing: “May of youth and bloom of lustyhood.” And King Henry V.: “My puissant liege is in the very May-morn of his youth.” Langton. So, in Sidney's Astrophel and Stella, Stanza 21: “If now the May of my years much decline.” Again, in The Spanish Curate of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; you met me “With equal ardour in your May of blood.” Again, in The Sea Voyage, by the same authors: “And in their May of youth,” &c. Again, in The Guardian of Massinger: “I am in the May of my abilities, “And you in your December.” Again, in The Renegado of the same author: “Having my heat and May of youth, to plead “In my excuse.” Again, in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “Had I in this fair May of all my glory,” &c. Again, in King John and Matilda, by R. Davenport, 1655: “Thou art yet in thy green May, twenty-seven summers,” &c. Steevens. I have now no doubt that Shakspeare wrote May, and not way. It is observable, in this very play, that the contrary error of the press has happened from a mistake of the same letters; “Hear not my steps which may they walke.” Besides, that a similarity of expression in other passages of Shakspeare, and the concinnity of the figure, both unite to support the proposed emendation. Thus, in his Sonnets: “Two beauteous springs to yellow autumns turn'd.” Again, in King Richard II.: “He that hath suffered this disorder'd spring, “Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.” The sentiment of Macbeth I take to be this: “The tender leaves of hope, the promise of my greener days, are now in my autumn, withered and fruitless: my mellow hangings are all shook down, and I am left bare to the weather.” Henley. The old reading should not have been discarded, as the following passages prove that it was a mode of expression in use at that time, as course of life is now. In Massinger's Very Woman, the Doctor says— “In way of life I did enjoy one friend.” Again, in The New Way To Pay Old Debts, Lady Allworth says— “If that when I was mistress of myself, “And in my way of youth,” &c. M. Mason. Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609, Act I. Sc. I.: “Thus ready for the way of life or death, “I wait the sharpest blow.” Steevens. The meaning of this contested passage, I think, is this. I have lived long enough. In the course or progress of life, I am arrived at that period when the body begins to decay; I have reached the autumn of my days. Those comforts which ought to accompany that old age to which I am approaching, (to compensate for the infirmities naturally attending it,) I have no title to expect; but on the contrary, the curses of those I have injured, and the hollow adulation of mortified dependants. I have lived long enough. It is time for me to retire. A passage in one of our author's Sonnets, (quoted by Mr. Steevens, in a subsequent note,) may prove the best comment on the present: “That time of year in me thou may'st behold,   “When yellow leaves or none or few do hang “Upon those boughs, which shake against the cold,   “Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.” Are not these lines almost a paraphrase on the contested part of the passage before us? He who could say that you might behold the autumn in him, would not scruple to write, that he was fallen into the autumn of his days (i. e. into that decay which always accompanies autumn); and how easy is the transition from this to saying that “the course or progress of his life had reached the autumnal season?” which is all that is meant by the words of the text, “My way of life,” &c. The using “the sear, the yellow leaf,” simply and absolutely for autumn, or rather autumnal decay, because in autumn the leaves of trees turn yellow, and begin to fall and decay, is certainly a licentious mode of expression; but it is such a licence as may be found in almost every page of our author's works. It would also have been more natural for Macbeth to have said, that, in the course or progress of life, he had arrived at his autumn, than to say, that the course of his life itself had fallen into autumn or decay; but this too is much in Shakspeare's manner. With respect to the word fallen, which at first view seems a very singular expression, I strongly suspect that he caught it from the language of conversation, in which we at this day often say that this or that person is “fallen into a decay;” a phrase that might have been current in his time also. It is the very idea here conveyed. Macbeth is fallen into his autumnal decline. In King Henry VIII. the word way seems to signify, as in the present passage, course or tenour: “The way of our profession is against it.” And in King Richard II. “the fall of leaf” is used, as in the passage before us, simply and absolutely for bodily decay. “He who hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, “Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf.” When a passage can be thus easily explained, and the mode of expression is so much in our poet's general manner, surely any attempt at emendation is not only unnecessary, but dangerous. However, as a reading which was originally proposed by Dr. Johnson, and has been adopted in the modern editions, “&lblank; my May of life,” has many favourers, I shall add a word or two on that subject. By his “May of life having fallen into the yellow leaf,” that is, into autumn, we must understand that Macbeth means either, that being in reality young, he is, in consequence of his cares, arrived at a premature old age;—or that he means simply to assert, that in the progress of life he has passed from May or youth to autumn or old age; in other words, that he is now an old man, or at least near being one. If the first interpretation be maintained, it is sufficient to say, (I use the words of my friend Mr. Flood, whose ingenious comment on this passage I published some years ago,) that “Macbeth, when he speaks this speech, is not youthful. He is contemporary to Banquo, who is advanced in years, and who hath a son upon the scene able to escape the pursuit of assassins and the vigilance of Macbeth.” I may likewise add that Macbeth, having now sat for seventeen years on the throne of Scotland, cannot with any probability be supposed to be like our author's Henry V. “in the May-morn of his youth.” We must therefore understand these words in the latter sense; namely, that he means only, that in the ordinary progress he has passed from the spring to the autumn of life, from youth to the confines of age. What then is obtained by this alteration? for this is precisely the meaning of the words as they stand in the old copy. There is still another very strong objection to the proposed emendation. It is alledged that in this very play may is printed instead of way, and why may not the contrary error have happened here? For this plain reason; because May (the month) both in manuscript and print always is exhibited with a capital letter; and it is exceedingly improbable that a compositor at the press should use a small w instead of a capital M. But, without going further into this subject, it is sufficient for our purpose, that the text, as it is exhibited in the ancient copy, affords an obvious, easy sense, without any emendation whatsoever. Malone. My way of youth occurs in Massinger, in two passages, one of which Mr. Mason has quoted incorrectly, and assigned the other to a wrong play: “If that when I was mistress of myself, “And in my way of youth pure and untainted.” Roman Actor. “In way of youth I did enjoy one friend.” Very Woman. Mr. Gifford understands it to be merely a periphrasis for youth, as way of life here is merely, he thinks, life. Boswell.

Note return to page 535 8&lblank; the sear,] Sear is dry. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “&lblank; sear winter “Hath seal'd the sap up.” And Milton has—“Ivy never sear.” Shakspeare has the same thought in his 73d Sonnet: “That time of year thou may'st in me behold, “When yellow leaves,” &c. Steevens. Again, in our author's Lover's Complaint, where the epithet is so used, as clearly to ascertain the meaning of “the sear, the yellow leaf,” in the passage before us: “&lblank; spite of heaven's fell rage, “Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.” Malone. We have the same expression and sentiment in Spenser's Pastorals, January: “Also my lustful leaf is drie and seare.” Boswell.

Note return to page 536 9&lblank; skirr the country round;] To skirr, I believe, signifies to scour, to ride hastily. The word is used by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Martial Maid: “Whilst I, with this and this, well mounted, skirr'd “A horse troop, through and through.” Again, in King Henry V.. “And make them skirr away, as swift as stones “Enforced from the old Assyrian slings.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca: “&lblank; the light shadows, “That, in a thought, scur o'er the fields of corn, “Halted on crutches to them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 537 1&lblank; talk of fear.] The second folio reads “stand in fear.” Henderson.

Note return to page 538 2That keep her &lblank;] The latter word, which was inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 539 3Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;] In The Spanish Tragedy Isabella thus complains: “So that you say, this herb will purge the eye, “And this the head; but none of them will purge the heart: “No, there's no medicine left for my disease, “Nor any physick to recure the dead.” Malone.

Note return to page 540 4And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,] Perhaps, as Dr. Farmer has observed, our poet here remembered Spenser's description of Nepenthe: “Nepenthe is a drinck of sovereign grace, “Devized by the gods for to asswage “Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,— “Instead thereof sweet peace and quietage “It doth establish in the troubled mynd.” Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. iii. st. 34. Malone. Our author's idea might have been caught from the sixth book of the Æneid, where the effects of Lethe are described: &lblank; Lethæi ad fluminis undam Securos latices, et longa oblivia potant. Thus translated by Phaer, 1558: “These liquors quenching cares, and long forgetful draughts thei drink “That of their liues, and former labours past, they neuer thinck.” Thus also Statius, Theb. i. 341: Grata laboratæ referens oblivia vitæ. Steevens.

Note return to page 541 5Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,] Stuff'd is the reading of the old copy; but, for the sake of the ear, which must be shocked by the recurrence of so harsh a word, I am willing to read—foul, as there is authority for the change from Shakspeare himself, in As You Like It, Act II. Sc. VI.: “Cleanse the foul body of the infected world.” We properly speak of cleansing what is foul, but not what is stuffed. Steevens. The reccurrence of the word stuff, in this passage, is very unpleasing to the ear, but there is no ground, I think, to suspect the text to be corrupt: for our author was extremely fond of such repetitions. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Now for the love of love.” “The greatest grace lending grace.” All's Well that Ends Well. “&lblank; with what good speed “Our means will make us means.” All's Well that Ends Well. “Is only grievous to me, only dying.” King Henry VIII. “Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit.” Romeo and Juliet. “For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie “Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown.” King John. “Believe me, I do not believe thee, man.” Ibid. “Those he commands, move only in command &lblank;.” Macbeth. The words stuff and stuff'd, however mean they may sound at present, have, like many other terms, been debased by time, and appear to have been formerly considered as words proper to be used in passages of the greatest dignity. As such, Shakspeare has employed them in Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, The Winter's Tale, Julius Cæsar, &c. Again, in The Tempest, in a passage where the author certainly aimed at dignity: “And, like this unsubstantial pageant, faded, “Leave not a rack behind.—We are such stuff “As dreams are made of.” In a note on a passage in Othello, Dr. Johnson observes, that “stuff, in the Teutonick languages, is a word of great force. The elements (he adds) are called in Dutch hoefd stoffen, or head-stuffs.” Malone. The present question is not concerning the dignity of the word— stuffed, but its nauseous iteration, of which no example has been produced by Mr. Malone; for that our author has indulged himself in the repetition of harmonious words, is no proof that he would have repeated harsh ones. I may venture also (in support of my opinion) to subjoin, that the same gentleman, in a very judicious comment on King Henry IV. Part II. has observed, “that when a word is repeated without propriety, in the same, or two succeeding lines, there is great reason to suspect some corruption.” Steevens. To show Mr. Steevens's inconsistency, I will transcribe what he says in Othello, vol. ix. p. 316, on the line— “If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash.” “It is scarce necessary to support the present jingle of the word trash; it is so much in our author's manner, although his worst.” Is trash more harmonious than stuff? Boswell.

Note return to page 542 6&lblank; cast The water of my land,] “To cast the water” was the phrase in use for finding out disorders by the inspection of urine. So, in Eliosto Libidinoso, a novel, by John Hinde, 1606: “Lucilla perceiving, without casting her water, where she was pained,” &c. Again, in The Wise Woman of Hogsdon, 1638: “Mother Nottingham, for her time, was pretty well skilled in casting waters.” Steevens.

Note return to page 543 6&lblank; senna,] The old copy reads—cyme. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 544 7Let every soldier hew him down a bough,] A similar incident is recorded by Olaus Magnus, in his Northern History, lib. vii. cap. xx. “De Stratagemate Regis Hachonis per Frondes: “Nec accelerationi prospera fortuna defuit: nam primam et secundam vigilum stationem suspenso tacitoque itinere prætervectus, cum ad extremas sylvarum latebras devenisset, jussit abscissos arborum ramos singulorum suorum manibus gestari. Quod cum milites in tertiâ statione constituti adverterant, mox Sigaro nuntiant se insolitam et stupendam rei novitatem admirantibus oculis subjecisse. Visum quippe erat nemus suis sedibus evulsum ad regiam usque properare. Tum Sigarus animo ad insidiarum considerationem converso, respondit, eo sylvarum accessu sibi extrema fata portendi.” Boswell.

Note return to page 545 8But the confident tyrant &lblank;] We must surely read— “&lblank; the confin'd tyrant.” Warburton. He was confident of success; so confident that he would not fly, but endure their setting down before his castle. Johnson.

Note return to page 546 9For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt;] The impropriety of the expression “advantage to be given,” instead of “advantage given,” and the disagreeable repetition of the word given, in the next line, incline me to read: “&lblank; where there is a 'vantage to be gone, “Both more and less have given him the revolt.” Advantage or 'vantage, in the time of Shakspeare, signified opportunity. “He shut up himself and his soldiers (says Malcolm) in the castle, because when there is an opportunity to be gone, they all desert him.” More and less is the same with greater and less. So, in the interpolated Mandeville, a book of that age, there is a chapter of India the More and the Less. Johnson. I would read, if any alteration were necessary: “For where there is advantage to be got.” But the words, as they stand in the text, will bear Dr. Johnson's explanation, which is most certainly right.—“For wherever an opportunity of flight is given them,” &c. More and less, for greater and less, is likewise found in Chaucer: “From Boloigne is the erle of Pavie come, “Of which the fame yspronge to most and leste.” Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song the 12th: “Of Britain's forests all from th' less unto the more.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. viii.: “&lblank; all other weapons lesse or more, “Which warlike uses had devis'd of yore.” Steevens. “Where there is advantage to be given,” I believe, means, where advantageous offers are made to allure the adherents of Macbeth to forsake him. Henley. I suspect that given was caught by the printer's eye glancing on the subsequent line, and strongly incline to Dr. Johnson's emendation—gone. Malone. Why is the repetition of the word—given, less venial than the recurrence of the word stuff'd, in a preceding page? See Mr. Malone's objections to my remark on “Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,” p. 255. Steevens. Mr. Malone does not here object to the repetition of the word, but to its meaning. Boswell.

Note return to page 547 1Let our just censures Attend the true event,] The arbitrary change made in the second folio (which some criticks have represented as an improved edition) is here worthy of notice: “Let our best censures “Before the true event, and put we on,” &c. Malone. Surely, a few errors in a few pages of a book, do not exclude all idea of improvement in other parts of it. I cherish this hope for my own sake, as well as for that of other commentators on Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 548 2What we shall say we have, and what we owe.] i. e. property and allegiance. Warburton. When we are governed by legal kings, we shall know the limits of their claim, i. e. shall know what we have of our own, and what they have a right to take from us. Mr. Henley explains the passage thus: “The issue of the contest will soon decide what we shall say we have, and what may be accounted our own.” To owe here is to possess. Steevens. Had these lines been put into the mouth of any of the Scottish Peers, they might possibly bear the meaning that Steevens contends for; but as they are supposed to be spoken by Siward, who was not to be governed either by Malcolm or Macbeth, they can scarcely admit of that interpretation. Siward probably only means to say, in more pompous language, that the time approached which was to decide their fate. M. Mason. Siward, having undertaken the cause of Scotland, speaks, as a Scotsman would have spoken; and especially as he is now in the presence of Malcolm, Macduff, and others of the same country. Steevens.

Note return to page 549 2&lblank; arbitrate:] i. e. determine. Johnson. So, in the 18th Odyssey, translated by Chapman: “&lblank; straight “Can arbitrate a war of deadliest weight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 550 3Towards which, advance the war.] It has been understood that local rhymes were introduced in plays to afford an actor the advantage of a more pointed exit, or to close a scene with additional force. Yet, whatever might be Shakspeare's motive for continuing such a practice, it may be observed that he often seems immediately to repent of it; and, in the tragedy before us, has repeatedly counteracted it by hemistichs which destroy the effect, and consequently defeat the supposed purpose of the antecedent couplets. See the following instances, in addition to that which introduces the present note: Leave all the rest to me Act I. end of Scene V. So pr'ythee go with me Act III. end of Scene II. We are yet but young in deed Act III. end of Scene IV. But no more sights, &c. Act IV. end of Scene I. I think, but dare not speak Act V. end of Scene I. Make we our march towards Birnam Act V. end of Scene II. In Hamlet, &c. we find such hemistichs after the rhymes at the end of Acts, as well as Scenes. Steevens.

Note return to page 551 4The time has been, &c.] May has imitated this passage twice; once in The Heir, and again in The Old Couple. See Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. viii. p. 150. vol. x. p. 473, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 552 5&lblank; my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek;] The blood is sometimes said to be chilled; but I do not recollect any other instance in which this phrase is applied to the senses. Perhaps our author wrote— 'coil'd. My senses would have shrunk back; died within me. So, in the second scene of the present Act: “&lblank; Who then shall blame “His pester'd senses to recoil and start?” Malone. I retain the old reading. Perhaps, no word so forcible can be placed in its room. Thus, in the fifth Æneid: Sanguis hebet, frigentque effœtæ in corpore vires. The same expression occurs also in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “My humour shall not cool.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.” Thus, also, in the tragedy now before us, p. 290: “This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool.” Again, in King John: “&lblank; shall cool the hearts “Of all his people &lblank;.” Again, in Pope's version of the 18th Odyssey, 156: “Cool'd every breast, and damp'd the rising joy.” Again, in Chapman's version of the 22d Iliad: “&lblank; his still desperate spirit is cool'd.” But what example is there of the verb recoiled clipped into 'coiled? Coiled can only afford the idea of wound in a ring, like a rope or a serpent. Steevens.

Note return to page 553 6&lblank; fell of hair &lblank;] My hairy part, my capillitium. Fell is skin. Johnson. So, in Alphonsus, Emperor of Germany, by George Chapman, 1654: “&lblank; Where the lyon's hide is thin and scant, “I'll firmly patch it with a fox's fell.” Again, in King Lear: “The goujeres shall devour them, flesh and fell.” A dealer in hides is still called a fell-monger. Steevens.

Note return to page 554 7&lblank; I have supp'd full with horrors;] Statius has a similar thought in the second book of his Thebais: &lblank; attollit membra, toroque Erigitur, plenus monstris, vanumque cruorem Excutiens. The conclusion of this passage may remind the reader of Lady Macbeth's behaviour in her sleep. Steevens.

Note return to page 555 8She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word, &c.] This passage has very justly been suspected of being corrupt. It is not apparent for what word there would have been a time, and that there would or would not be a time for any word, seems not a consideration of importance sufficient to transport Macbeth into the following exclamation. I read therefore: “She should have died hereafter, “There would have been a time for—such a world!— “To-morrow,” &c. It is a broken speech, in which only part of the thought is expressed, and may be paraphrased thus: “The queen is dead.— Macbeth. Her death should have been deferred to some more peaceful hour; had she lived longer, there would at length have been a time for the honours due to her as a queen, and that respect which I owe her for her fidelity and love. Such is the world— such is the condition of human life, that we always think tomorrow will be happier than to-day, but to-morrow and to-morrow steals over us unenjoyed and unregarded, and we still linger in the same expectation to the moment appointed for our end. All these days, which have thus passed away, have sent multitudes of fools to the grave, who were engrossed by the same dream of future felicity, and, when life was departing from them, were, like me, reckoning on to-morrow.” Such was once my conjecture, but I am now less confident. Macbeth might mean, that there would have been a more convenient time for such a word, for such intelligence, and so fall into the following reflection. We say we send word when we give intelligence. Johnson. By—a word, Shakspeare certainly means more than a single one. Thus, in King Richard II.: “The hopeless word of—never to return “Breathe I against thee.” Again, in The Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “A musquet, with this word upon the label— “I have discharg'd the office of a soldier.” Steevens. Word may perhaps be used here in its common acceptation. There would have been a time when I could have better borne the mention of death, when my mind was not so depressed and enfeebled by the approach of danger and the pangs of remorse. Boswell.

Note return to page 556 9To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,] This repetition, as Dr. Farmer observed to me, occurs in Barclay's Ship of Fooles, 1570: “Cras, cras, cras, to-morrow we shall amende.” Steevens.

Note return to page 557 1To the last syllable of recorded time;] Recorded time seems to signify the time fixed in the decrees of heaven for the period of life. The record of futurity is indeed no accurate expression; but, as we only know transactions past or present, the language of men affords no term for the volumes of prescience in which future events may be supposed to be written. Johnson. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “To the utmost syllable of your worthiness.” Recorded is probably here used for recording or recordable; one participle for the other, of which there are many instances, both in Shakspeare and other English writers. Virgil uses penetrabile frigus for penetrans frigus, and penetrabile telum for telum penetrans. Steevens. By recorded time, Shakspeare means not only the time that has been, but also that which shall be recorded. M. Mason.

Note return to page 558 2The way to dusty death.] We should read—dusky, as appears from the figurative term lighted. Warburton. Dusty is a very natural epithet. The second folio has: “The way to study death &lblank;.” which Mr. Upton prefers; but it is only an error, by an accidental transposition of the types, Johnson. “The dust of death” is an expression used in the 22d Psalm. “Dusty death” alludes to the expression of “dust to dust” in the burial service; and to the sentence pronounced against Adam: “Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return.” In Troilus and Cressida also the same epithet occurs: “&lblank; are grated “To dusty nothing &lblank;.” Shakspeare, however, in the first Act of this play, speaks of the thane of Cawdor, as of one “&lblank; who had been studied in his death.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson justly observes that dusty is a very natural epithet. Our author again alludes to the dust of death in The Winter's Tale: “Some hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me “Where no priest shovels-in dust.” Malone. In Sydney's Arcadia, 1598, p. 445, we have the following stanza of a Song on Death: “Our owly eyes, which dimm'd with passions be, “And scarce discerne the dawn of coming day; “Let them be clearde, and now begin to see “Our life is but a step in dustie way.” Reed.

Note return to page 559 3[Striking him.] This direction is not in the old copy. Boswell.

Note return to page 560 4Till famine cling thee:] Clung, in the Northern counties, signifies any thing that is shrivelled or shrunk up. By famine, the intestines are, as it were, stuck together. In The Roman Actor, by Massinger, the same word, though differently spelt, appears to be used: “&lblank; my entrails “Are clamm'd with keeping a continual fast.” Again, in Pierce's Supererogation, or A New Praise of the Old Asse, &c. 1593: “Who should have thought, or could have imagined, to have found the wit of Pierce so starved and clunged?” Again, in George Whetstone's Castle of Delight, 1576: “My wither'd corps with deadly cold is clung.” Again, in Heywood's Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637: “His entrails with long fast and hunger clung &lblank;.” Again, in Golding's version of Ovid's Metamorphosis, b. vii.: “&lblank; old Æacus also, cloong “With age &lblank;.” Thus also, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 8th book of Pliny's Natural History, ch. xxxvi.: “The first thing that they doe [i. e. the famished bears] is to devoure a certaine herb named Aron: and that they doe to open their guts, which otherwise were clunged and growne together.” To cling likewise signifies, to gripe, to compress, to embrace. So, in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1607: “&lblank; slide from the mother, “And cling the daughter.” Again, in Antonio's Revenge, 1607: “And found even cling'd in sensuality.” Again, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “I will never see a white flea, before I will cling you.” Ben Jonson uses the word clem in the Poetaster, Act I. Sc. II.: “I cannot eat stones and turfs; say, what will he clem me and my followers? ask him an he will clem me.” To be clemed is a Staffordshire expression, which means, to be starved: and there is likewise a Cheshire proverb: “You been like Smithwick, either clemed, or bursten.” Again, in Antonio and Mellida: “Now lions' half-clem'd entrails roar for food.” In the following instances, the exact meaning of this word is not very clear: “Andrea slain! then weapon cling my breast.” First Part of Jeronimo, 1605. “Although my conscience hath my courage cleng'd, “And knows what valour was employ'd in vain.” Lord Sterline's Darius, 1603. Again, in The Sadler's Play, among the Chester Whitsun Plays, MS. Harl. 1013, p. 154, where the burial of our Saviour is spoken of: “That now is clongen under clay.” I have given these varieties of the word, for the sake of any future lexicographer, or commentator on ancient authors. Mr. Whalley, however, observes, that “till famine cling thee,” means—till it dry thee up, or exhaust all thy moisture. Clung wood is wood of which the sap is entirely dried or spent. Clung and clem, says he, are terms of very different meaning. The same idea is well expressed by Pope, in his version of the 19th Iliad, 166: “Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils declin'd &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 561 4I pull in resolution; and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth:] Though this is the reading of all the editions, yet, as it is a phrase without either example, elegance, or propriety, it is surely better to read: “I pall in resolution &lblank;.” ‘I languish in my constancy, my confidence begins to forsake me.’ It is scarcely necessary to observe how easily pall might be changed into pull by a negligent writer, or mistaken for it by an unskilful printer. With this emendation Dr. Warburton and Mr. Heath concur. Johnson. There is surely no need of change; for Shakspeare, who made Trinculo, in The Tempest, say— “I will let loose my opinion,” might have written— “I pull in my resolution.” He had permitted his courage (like a fiery horse) to carry him to the brink of a precipice, but, seeing his danger, resolves to check that confidence to which he had given the rein before. Steevens. This reading is supported by a passage in Fletcher's Sea Voyage, where Aminta says: “&lblank; and all my spirits, “As if they had heard my passing bell go for me, “Pull in their powers, and give me up to destiny.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 562 5I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, &c.] Tum vero infelix fatis exterrita Dido Mortem orat, lædet cæli convexa tueri.” Theobald.

Note return to page 563 6&lblank; harness &lblank;] An old word for armour. So, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “His harness is converted to soft silke.” Henderson. So, in the continuation of Hardyng's Chronicle, 1543: “&lblank; well perceyving that the intendours of such a purpose would rather have had their harnesse on their backs, than to have bound them up in barrelles.” Malone.

Note return to page 564 *First folio, upon's.

Note return to page 565 7&lblank; I must fight the course.] A phrase taken from bear-baiting. So, in The Antipodes, by Brome, 1638: “Also you shall see two ten-dog courses at the great bear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 566 8This short scene is injudiciously omitted on the stage. The poet designed Macbeth should appear invincible, till he encountered the object destined for his destruction. Steevens.

Note return to page 567 9Seems bruited:] From bruit, Fr. To bruit is to report with clamour; to noise. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; his death “Being bruited once,” &c. Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; I am not “One that rejoices in the common wreck, “As common bruit doth put it.” Again, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “Lais was one of the most bruited common women that clerkes do write of.” Steevens.

Note return to page 568 1&lblank; There thou should'st be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not.] I suspect, from deficience of metre, that the latter part of this passage originally stood thus: “Seems bruited there. Let me but find him, fortune! “And more,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 569 3Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword?] Alluding, perhaps, to the suicide of Cato Uticensis, which our author must have read of in the old translation of Plutarch, as the same circumstance is mentioned again in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; I did blame Cato for the death “Which he did give himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 570 4I have no words, My voice is in my sword;] Thus Casca, in Julius Cæsar: “Speak hands for me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 571 5As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:] That is, air which cannot be cut. Johnson. Mr. M. Mason wishes to interpret the word intrenchant differently, and says that it may signify surrounding; but of a participle with such a meaning, I believe there is no example.—Shakspeare's indiscriminate use of active and passive participles has been frequently noticed. In Timon he has trenchant in an active sense, and in the line before us intrenchant is employed as passive. Milton, in his Paradise Lost, b. vi. seems to have imitated this passage: “Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound “Receive, no more than can the fluid air.” Steevens. So, in Hamlet: “For it is as the air invulnerable.” Malone.

Note return to page 572 6I bear a charmed life,] In the days of chivalry, the champions' arms being ceremoniously blessed, each took an oath that he used no charmed weapons. Macbeth, according to the law of arms, or perhaps only in allusion to this custom, tells Macduff of the security he had in the prediction of the spirit. To this likewise Posthumus alludes in Cymbeline, Act V.: “&lblank; I, in my own woe charm'd, “Could not find death.” Upton. So, in The Dumb Knight, 1633, by L. Machin: “Here you shall swear by hope, by heaven, by Jove, “And by the right you challenge in true fame, “That here you stand, not arm'd with any guile, “Of philters, charms, of night-spells, characters, “Or other black infernal vantages,” &c. Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. iv.: “&lblank; he bears a charmed shield, “And eke enchaunted arms that none can pierce.” Steevens.

Note return to page 573 7&lblank; palter with us in a double sense;] That shuffle with ambiguous expressions. Johnson. So, in Marius and Sylla, 1594: “Now fortune, frown and palter, if thou please.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; Romans, that have spoke the word, “And will not palter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 574 8We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole;] That is, on cloth suspended on a pole. Malone.

Note return to page 575 9&lblank; Hold, enough.] See Mr. Tollet's note on the words —“To cry, hold, hold!” p. 66, n. 5. Again, in Stowe's Chronicle, one of the combatants was an esquire, and knighted after the battle, which the king terminated by crying Hoo, i. e. hold. Thus also, in the ancient MS. Romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 33: “His bare guttis men myght see, “The blode faste downe ranne: “Hoo, Olyuere I yelde me to the, “And here I become thy man.” Steevens. “To cry hold, is the word of yielding,” says Carew's Survey of Cornwall, p. 74, i. e. when one of the combatants cries so. Tollet.

Note return to page 576 1Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his knell is knoll'd.] This incident is thus related from Henry of Huntingdon, by Camden, in his Remains, from which our author probably copied it. When Siward, the martial earl of Northumberland, understood that his son, whom he had sent in service against the Scotchmen, was slain, he demanded whether his wounds were in the fore part or hinder part of his body. When it was answered, in the fore part, he replied, “I am right glad; neither wish I any other death to me or mine.” Johnson. Our author might have found the same incident recorded by Holinshed, in his Chronicle, vol. i. p. 192. Malone.

Note return to page 577 2So, God, &c.] The old copy redundantly reads—And so, God, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 578 3&lblank; on a Pole.] These words I have added to the stage-direction, from the Chronicle: “Then cutting his head from his shoulders, he set it upon a pole, and brought it unto Malcolm.” This explains the word stands in Macduff's speech. Many of the stage-directions appear to have been inserted by the players; and they are often very injudicious. In this scene, (as Mr. Steevens has observed,) according to their direction, Macbeth is slain on the stage, and Macduff immediately afterwards enters with Macbeth's head. Malone. Our ancient players were not even skilful enough to prevent absurdity in those circumstances which fell immediately under their own management. No bad specimen of their want of common sense, on such occasions, may be found in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “Enter Sybilla lying in childbed, with her child lying by her,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 579 4&lblank; thy kingdom's pearl,] This metaphorical expression was excluded by Mr. Rowe, after whom our modern editors were content to read—peers. The following passage from Ben Jonson's Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorpe, may, however, countenance the old reading, which I have inserted in the text: “Queen, prince, duke, and earls, “Countesses, ye courtly pearls,” &c. Again, in Shirley's Gentlemen of Venice: “&lblank; he is the very pearl “Of courtesy &lblank;.” Steevens. “Thy kingdom's pearl” means ‘thy kingdom's wealth,’ or rather ornament. So, J. Sylvester, England's Parnassus, 1600: “Honour of cities, pearle of kingdoms all.” Again, in Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania, by N. Breton, 1606: “&lblank; an earl, “And worthily then termed Albion's pearl.” John Florio, in a Sonnet prefixed to his Italian Dictionary, 1598, calls Lord Southampton—“bright pearle of peers.” Malone.

Note return to page 580 5King of Scotland, hail!] Old copy—“Hail, king of Scotland!” For the sake of metre, and in conformity to a practice of our author, I have transplanted the word—hail, from the beginning to the end of this hemistich. Thus, in the third scene of the play, p. 41: “So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! “Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail.” Steevens.

Note return to page 581 6We shall not spend a large expence of time,] To spend an expence, is a phrase with which no reader will be satisfied. We certainly owe it to the mistake of a transcriber, or the negligence of a printer. Perhaps extent was the poet's word. Be it recollected, however, that at the end of the first scene of the third Act of The Comedy of Errors, Antipholus of Ephesus says—“This jest shall cost me some expence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 582 7&lblank; the first that ever Scotland In such an honour nam'd.] “Malcolm immediately after his coronation called a parlement at Forfair, in the which he rewarded them with lands and livings that had assisted him against Macbeth. —Manie of them that were before thanes, were at this time made earles, as Fife, Menteth, Atholl, Levenox, Murrey, Cathness, Rosse, and Angus.” Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 176. Malone.

Note return to page 583 8This play is deservedly celebrated for the propriety of its fictions, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice discriminations of character; the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dispositions, and the course of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents. The danger of ambition is well described; and I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that, in Shakspeare's time, it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions. The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the courage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall. Johnson. How frequent the practice of enquiring into the events of futurity, similar to those of Macbeth, was in Shakspeare's time, may be seen in the following instances: “The Marshall of Raiz wife hath bin heard to say, that Queen Katherine beeing desirous to know what should become of her children, and who should succeed them, the party which undertooke to assure her, let her see a glasse, representing a hall, in the which either of them made so many turns as he should raigne yeares; and that King Henry the Third, making his, the Duke of Guise crost him like a flash of lightning; after which, the Prince of Navarre presented himselfe, and made 22 turnes, and then vanished.” P. Mathieu's Heroyk Life and Deplorable Death of Henry the Fourth, translated by Ed. Grimeston, 4to. 1612, p. 42.—Again: “It is reported that a Duke of Bourgondy had like to have died for feare at the sight of the nine worthies which a magician shewed him.” Ibid. p. 116. Reed. Mr. Whitaker, in his judicious and spirited Vindication of Mary Queen of Scots, 8vo. p. 486, edit. 1790, has the following reference to the prophecies of one John Lenton: “All this serves to show the propriety of Shakspeare's scenes of the weird sisters, &c. as adapted to his own age. In the remote period of Macbeth, it might be well presumed, the popular faith mounted up into all the wildest extravagance described by him. In his own age it rose, as in Lady Shrewsbury here, and in Lady Derby, (Camden, Trans. 529, Orig. ii. 129,) into a belief in the verbal predictions of some reputed prophet then alive, or into a reliance upon the written predictions of some dead one. And Shakspeare might well endeavour to expose such a faith, when we see here, that though it could not lay hold of Queen Mary, yet it fastened firmly upon such a woman of the world as Lady Shrewsbury.” It may be worth while to remark, that Milton, who left behind him a list of no less than CII. dramatic subjects, had fixed on the story of this play among the rest. His intention was to have begun with the arrival of Malcolm at Macduff's castle. “The matter of Duncan (says he) may be expressed by the appearing of his ghost.” It should seem, from this last memorandum, that Milton disliked the licence his predecessor had taken in comprehending a history of such length within the short compass of a play, and would have new-written the whole, on the plan of the ancient drama. He could not surely have indulged so vain a hope, as that of excelling Shakspeare in the tragedy of Macbeth. The late Mr. Whateley's Remarks on some of the Characters of Shakspeare, have shown, with the utmost clearness of distinction and felicity of arrangement, that what in Richard III, is fortitude, in Macbeth is no more than resolution. But this judicious critick having imputed the cause of Macbeth's inferiority in courage to his natural disposition, induces me to dissent, in one particular, from an Essay, which otherwise is too comprehensive to need a supplement, and too rational to admit of confutation. Throughout such parts of this drama as afford opportunities for a display of personal bravery, Macbeth sometimes screws his courage to the sticking place, but never rises into constitutional heroism. Instead of meditating some decisive stroke on the enemy, his restless and self-accusing mind discharges itself in splenetic effusions and personal invectives on the attendants about his person. His genuine intrepidity had forsaken him when he ceased to be a virtuous character. He would now deceive himself into confidence, and depends on forced alacrity, and artificial valour, to extricate him from his present difficulties. Despondency too deep to be rooted out, and fury too irregular to be successful, have, by turns, possession of his mind. Though he has been assured of what he certainly credited, that none of woman born shall hurt him, he has twice given us reason to suppose that he would have fled, but that he cannot, being tied to the stake, and compelled to fight the course. Suicide also has once entered into his thoughts; though this idea, in a paroxysm of noisy rage, is suppressed. Yet here it must be acknowledged that his apprehensions had betrayed him into a strange inconsistency of belief. As he persisted in supposing he could be destroyed by none of woman born, by what means did he think to destroy himself? for he was produced in the common way of nature, and fell not within the description of the only object that could end the being of Macbeth. In short, his efforts are no longer those of courage, but of despair, excited by self-conviction, infuriated by the menaces of an injured father, and confirmed by a presentiment of inevitable defeat. Thus situated,—“Dum nec luce frui, nec mortem arcere licebit,”—he very naturally prefers a manly and violent, to a shameful and lingering termination of life. One of Shakspeare's favourite morals is—that criminality reduces the brave and pusillanimous to a level. “Every puny whipster gets my sword, (exclaims Othello,) for why should honour outlive modesty?” “Where I could not be honest, (says Albany,) I was never valiant;” Iachimo imputes his “want of manhood” to the “heaviness and guilt within his bosom;” Hamlet asserts that “conscience does make cowards of us all;” and Imogen tells Pisanio, “he may be valiant in a better cause, but now he seems a coward.” The late Dr. Johnson, than whom no man was better acquainted with general nature, in his Irene, has also observed of a once faithful Bassa— “How guilt, when harbour'd in the conscious breast, “Intimidates the brave, degrades the great! “See Cali, dread of kings, and pride of armies, “By treason levell'd with the dregs of men! “Ere guilty fear depress'd the hoary chief, “An angry murmur, a rebellious frown, “Had stretch'd the fiery boaster in his grave.” Who then can suppose that Shakspeare would have exhibited his Macbeth with encreasing guilt, but undiminished bravery? or wonder that our hero— “Whose pester'd senses do recoil and start, “When all that is within him does condemn “Itself for being there,” should have lost the magnanimity he displayed in a righteous cause, against Macdonwald and the thane of Cawdor? Of this circumstance, indeed, the murderer of Duncan was soon aware, as appears from his asking himself the dreadful question— “How is't with me, when every noise appals me?” Between the courage of Richard and Macbeth, however, no comparison in favour of the latter can be supported. Richard was so thoroughly designed for a daring, impious, and obdurate character, that even his birth was attended by prodigies, and his person armed with ability to do the earliest mischief of which infancy is capable. Macbeth, on the contrary, till deceived by the illusions of witchcraft, and depraved by the suggestions of his wife, was a religious, temperate, and blameless character. The vices of the one were originally woven into his heart; those of the other were only applied to the surface of his disposition. They can scarce be said to have penetrated quite into its substance, for while there was shame, there might have been reformation. The precautions of Richard concerning the armour he was to wear in the next day's battle, his preparations for the onset, and his orders after it is begun, are equally characteristick of a calm and intrepid soldier, who possesses the wisdom that appeared so formidable to Macbeth, and guided Banquo's valour to act in safety. But Macbeth appears in confusion from the moment his castle is invested, issues no distinct or material directions, prematurely calls for his armour, as irresolutely throws it off again, and is more intent on self-crimination, than the repulse of the besiegers, or the disposition of the troops who are to defend his fortress. But it is useless to dwell on particulars so much more exactly enumerated by Mr. Whateley. The truth is, that the mind of Richard, unimpregnated by original morality, and uninfluenced by the laws of Heaven, is harassed by no subsequent remorse. Repente fuit turpissimus. Even the depression he feels from preternatural objects, is speedily taken off. In spite of ominous visions he sallies forth, and seeks his competitor in the throat of death. Macbeth, though he had long abandoned the practice of goodness, had not so far forgot its accustomed influence, but that a virtuous adversary whom he had injured, is as painful to his sight as the spectre in a former scene, and equally blasts the resolution he was willing to think he had still possessed. His conscience (as Hamlet says of the poison) overcrows his spirit, and all his enterprizes are sicklied over by the pale cast of thought. The curse that attends on him is, virtutem videre, et intabescere relictâ. Had Richard once been a feeling and conscientious character, when his end drew nigh, he might also have betrayed evidences of timidity—“there sadly summing what he late had lost;” and if Macbeth originally had been a hardened villain, no terrors might have obtruded themselves in his close of life. Qualis ab incepto processerat. In short, Macbeth is timid in spite of all his boasting, as long as he thinks timidity can afford resources; nor does he exhibit a specimen of determined intrepidity, till the completion of the prophecy, and the challenge of Macduff, have taught him that life is no longer tenable. Five counterfeit Richmonds are slain by Richard, who, before his fall, has enacted wonders beyond the common ability of man. The prowess of Macbeth is confined to the single conquest of Siward, a novice in the art of war. Neither are the truly brave ever disgraced by unnecessary deeds of cruelty. The victims of Richard, therefore, are merely such as obstructed his progress to the crown, or betrayed the confidence he had reposed in their assurances of fidelity. Macbeth, with a savage wantonness that would have dishonoured a Scythian female, cuts off a whole defenceless family, though the father of it was the only reasonable object of his fear.—Can it be a question then, which of these two personages would manifest the most determined valour in the field? Shall we hesitate to bestow the palm of courage on the steady unrepenting Yorkist, in whose bosom ideas of hereditary greatness, and confidence resulting from success, had fed the flame of glory, and who dies in combat for a crown which had been the early object of his ambition? and shall we allot the same wreath to the wavering self-convicted Thane, who, educated without hope of royalty, had been suggested into greatness, and yet, at last, would forego it all to secure himself by flight, but that flight is become an impossibility? To conclude; a picture of conscience encroaching on fortitude, of magnanimity once animated by virtue, and afterwards extinguished by guilt, was what Shakspeare meant to display in the character and conduct of Macbeth. Steevens. Macbeth was certainly one of Shakspeare's latest productions, and it might possibly have been suggested to him by a little performance on the same subject at Oxford, before King James, 1605. I will transcribe my notice of it from Wake's Rex Platonicus: “Fabulæ ansam dedit antiqua de regiâ prosapiâ historiola apud Scoto-Britannos celebrata, quæ narrat tres olim Sibyllas occurrisse duobus Scotiæ proceribus, Macbetho et Banchoni, et illum prædixisse regem futurum, sed regem nullum geniturum; hunc regem non futurum, sed reges geniturum multos. Vaticinii veritatem rerum eventus comprobavit. Banchonis enim è stirpe potentissimus Jacobus oriundus.” P. 29. Since I made the observation here quoted, I have been repeatedly told, that I unwittingly make Shakspeare learned, at least in Latin, as this must have been the language of the performance before King James. One might, perhaps, have plausibly said, that he probably picked up the story at second-hand; but mere accident has thrown a pamphlet in my way, intitled The Oxford Triumph, by one Anthony Nixon, 1605, which explains the whole matter: “This performance,” says Antony, “was first in Latine to the king, then in English to the queene and young prince:” and, as he goes on to tell us, “the conceipt thereof the kinge did very much applaude.” It is likely that the friendly letter, which we are informed King James once wrote to Shakspeare, was on this occasion. Farmer. Dr. Johnson used often to mention an acquaintance of his, who was for ever boasting what great things he would do, could he but meet with Ascham's Toxophilus* [Subnote: *&lblank; Ascham's Toxophilus,] Mr. Malone is somewhat mistaken in his account of Dr. Johnson's pleasantry, which originated from an observation made by Mr. Theobald in 1733, and repeated by him in 1740. See his note on Much Ado About Nothing, in his 8vo. edition of Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 410; and his duodecimo, vol. ii. p. 12: “&lblank; and had I the convenience of consulting Ascham's Toxophilus, I might probably grow better acquainted with his history:” i. e. that of Adam Bell, the celebrated archer. Mr. Theobald was certainly no diligent inquirer after ancient books, or was much out of luck, if, in the course of ten years, he could not procure the treatise he wanted, which was always sufficiently common. I have abundant reason to remember the foregoing circumstance, having often stood the push of my late coadjutor's merriment, on the same score; for he never heard me lament the scarcity of any old pamphlet, from which I expected to derive information, but he instantly roared out—“Sir, remember Tib and his Toxophilus.” Steevens.] , at a time when Ascham's pieces had not been collected, and were very rarely to be found. At length Toxophilus was procured, but—nothing was done. The interlude performed at Oxford in 1605, by the students of Saint John's college, was, for a while, so far my Toxophilus, as to excite my curiosity very strongly on the subject. Whether Shakspeare, in the composition of this noble tragedy, was at all indebted to any preceding performance, through the medium of translation, or in any other way, appeared to me well worth ascertaining. The British Museum was examined in vain. Mr. Warton very obligingly made a strict search at St. John's college, but no traces of this literary performance could there be found. At length chance threw into my hands the very verses that were spoken in 1605, by three young gentlemen of that college; and, being thus at last obtained, “that no man” (to use the words of Dr. Johnson) “may ever want them more,” I will here transcribe them. There is some difficulty in reconciling the different accounts of this entertainment. The author of Rex Platonicus says, “Tres adolescentes concinno Sibyllarum habitu induti, è collegio [Divi Johannis] prodeuntes, et carmina lepida alternatim canentes, regi se tres esse Sibyllas profitentur, quæ Banchoni olim sobolis imperia prædixerant, &c. Deinde tribus principibus suaves felicitatum triplicitates triplicatis carminum vicibus succinentes,—principes ingeniosa fictiuncula delectatos dimittunt.” But in a manuscript account of the king's visit to Oxford in 1605, in the Museum, (MSS. Baker, 7044,) this interlude is thus described: “This being done, he [the king] rode on untill he came unto St. John's college, where coming against the gate, three young youths, in habit and attire like Nymphes, confronted him, representing England, Scotland, and Ireland; and talking dialogue-wise each to other of their state, at last concluded, yielding up themselves to his gracious government.” With this A. Nixon's account, in The Oxford Triumph, quarto, 1605, in some measure agrees, though it differs in a very material point; for, if his relation is to be credited, these young men did not alternately recite verses, but pronounced three distinct orations: “This finished, his Majestie passed along till hee came before Saint John's college, when three little boyes, coming foorth of a castle made all of ivie, drest like three nymphes, (the conceipt whereof the king did very much applaude,) delivered three orations, first in Latine to the king, then in English to the queene and young prince; which being ended, his majestie proceeded towards the east gate of the citie, where the townesmen againe delivered to him another speech in English.” From these discordant accounts one might be led to suppose, that there were six actors on this occasion, three of whom personated the Sybills, or rather the Weird Sisters, and addressed the royal visitors in Latin, and that the other three represented England, Scotland, and Ireland, and spoke only in English. I believe, however, that there were but three young men employed; and after reciting the following Latin lines, (which prove that the weird sisters and the representatives of England, Scotland, and Ireland, were the same persons,) they might, perhaps, have pronounced some English verses of a similar import, for the entertainment of the queen and the princes. To the Latin play of Vertumnus, written by Dr. Matthew Gwynne, which was acted before the king by some of the students of St. John's college on a subsequent day, we are indebted for the long-sought-for interlude, performed at St. John's gate; for Dr. Gwynne, who was the author of this interlude also, has annexed it to his Vertumnus, printed in 4to. in 1607: “Ad regis introitum, e Joannensi Collegio extra portam urbis borealem sito, tres quasi Sibyllæ, sic (ut e sylva) salutarunt. “1. Fatidicas olim fama est cecinisse sorores “Imperium sine fine tuæ, rex inclyte, stirpis. “Banquonem agnovit generosa Loquabria Thanum; “Nec tibi, Banquo, tuis sed sceptra nepotibus illæ “Immortalibus immortalia vaticinatæ: “In saltum, ut lateas, dum Banquo recedis ab aula. “Tres eadem pariter canimus tibi fata tuisque, “Dum spectande tuis, e saltu accedis ad urbem; “Teque salutamus: Salve, cui Scotia servit; “2. Anglia cui, salve. 3. Cui servit Hibernia, salve. “1. Gallia cui titulos, terras dant cætera, salve. “2. Quem divisa prius colit una Britannia, salve. “3. Summe Monarcha Britannice, Hibernice, Gallice, salve. “1. Anna, parens regum, soror, uxor, filia, salve. “2. Salve, Henrice hæres, princeps pulcherrime, salve. “3. Dux Carole, et perbelle Polonice regule, salve. “1. Nec metas fatis, nec tempora ponimus istis; “Quin orbis regno, famæ sint terminus astra: “Canutum referas regno quadruplice clarum; “Major avis, æquande tuis diademate solis. “Nec serimus cædes, nec bella, nec anxia corda; “Nec furor in nobis; sed agente calescimus illo “Numine, quo Thomas Whitus per somnia motus, “Londinenses eques, musis hæc tecta dicavit. “Musis? imo Deo, tutelarique Joanni. “Ille Deo charum et curam, prope prætereuntem “Ire salutatum, Christi precursor, ad ædem “Christi pergentem, jussit. Dictâ ergo salute “Perge, tuo aspectu sit læta Academia, perge.” Malone. As that singular curiosity, The Witch, printed by Mr. Reed, and distributed only among his friends, cannot fall in the way of every curious and inquisitive reader of Shakspeare, I am induced to subjoin such portions of it (though some of them are already glanced at) as might have suggested the idea on which our author founded his unrivalled scene of enchantment, in the fourth Act of the present tragedy. Let it not be supposed, however, that such coincidences ought any way to diminish the fame of Shakspeare, whose additions and adoptions have, in every instance, manifested the richness of his own fancy, and the power of his own judgment. The lyrick part, indeed, of the second of these extracts, has already appeared in my note, under the article Macbeth, in Mr. Malone's Attempt to ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays, vol. ii. and is repeated here only for the sake of juxtaposition, and because its adjuncts (to borrow a phrase from Lady Macbeth) would have been “bare without it.” The whole is given with its antiquated spelling, corrected from the original MS. Steevens. ACT I. SCENE II. Enter Heccat; and other Witches (with Properties, and Habitts fitting.) Hec. Titty, and Tiffin, Suckin   And Pidgen, Liard, and Robin! White spiritts, black spiritts, gray spiritts, redd speritts; Devill-Toad, Devill-Ram, Devill-Catt, and Devill-Dam. Why Hoppo and Stadlin, Hellwin and Prickle! Stad. Here, sweating at the vessel. Hec. Boyle it well. Hop. It gallops now. Hec. Are the flames blew enough? Or I shall use a little seeten more? Stad. The nipps of Fayries upon maides white hipps, Are not more perfect azure. Hec. Tend it carefully. Send Stadlin to me with a brazen dish, That I may fall to work upon theis serpents, And squieze 'em ready for the second howre. Why, when? Stad. Heere's Stadlin, and the dish. Hec. There take this un-baptized brat: Boile it well: preserve the fat: You know 'tis pretious to transfer Our 'noynted flesh into the aire, In moone-light nights, ore steeple-topps, Mountains, and pine-trees, that like pricks, or stopps, Seeme to our height: high towres, and roofes of princes, Like wrinckles in the earth: whole provinces Appeare to our sight then, ev'n leeke A russet-moale upon some ladies cheeke. When hundred leagues in aire we feast and sing, Daunce, kisse, and coll, use every thing: What yong-man can we wish to pleasure us But we enjoy him in an Incubus? Thou know'st it Stadlin? Stad. Usually that's don. Hect. Last night thou got'st the Maior of Whelplies son, I knew him by his black cloake lyn'd with yallow; I thinck thou hast spoild the youth: hee's but seaventeene. I'll have him the next mounting: away, in. Goe feed the vessell for the second howre. Stad. Where be the magicall herbes? Hec. They're downe his throate. His mouth cramb'd full; his eares, and nosthrills stufft. I thrust in Eleoselinum, lately Aconitum, frondes populeus, and soote, You may see that, he looks so black i' th' mouth: Then Sium, Acharum, Vulgaro too Dentaphillon, the blood of a flitter-mowse, Solanum somnificum et oleum. Stad. Then ther's all Heccat? Hec. Is the hart of wax Stuck full of magique needles? Stad. 'Tis don Heccat. Hec. And is the Farmer's picture, and his wives, Lay'd downe to th' fire yet? Stad. They are a roasting both too. Hec. Good; Then their marrowes are a melting subtelly, And three monethes sicknes sucks up life in 'em. They denide me often flowre, barme, and milke, Goose-greaze and tar, when I nere hurt their churnings, Their brew-locks nor their batches, nor fore-spoake Any of their breedings. Now I'll be-meete with 'em. Seaven of their yong piggs I have be-witch'd already Of the last litter, nine ducklyngs, thirteene goselings and a hog Fell lame last Sonday after even-song too. And mark how their sheepe prosper; or what soupe Each milch-kine gives to th' paile: I'll send these snakes Shall milke 'em all before hand: the dew'd-skirted dayrie wenches Shall stroak dry duggs for this, and goe home curssing: I'll mar their syllabubs, and swathie feastings Under cowes bellies, with the parish-youthes: Enter Firestone. Wher's Firestone? our son Firestone. Fire. Here am I mother. Hec. Take in this brazen dish full of deere ware, Thou shalt have all when I die, and that wil be Ev'n just at twelve a clock at night come three yeere. Fire. And may you not have one a-clock in to th' dozen (Mother?) Hec. Noh. Fire. Your spirits are then more unconscionable then bakers: You'll have liv'd then (Mother) six-score yeare to the hundred; and me-thincks after six-score yeares the devill might give you a cast; for he's a fruiterer too, and has byn from the beginning: the first apple that ere was eaten, came through his fingers: The Costermongers then I hold to be the auncientest trade, though some would have the Tailor prick'd downe before him. Hec. Goe and take heed you shed not by the way: The howre must have her portion, 'tis deere sirrop. Each charmed drop is able to confound A famely consisting of nineteene, Or one and twentie feeders. Fire. Mary, heere's stuff indeed! Deere surrup call you it? a little thing would make me give you a dram on't in a possett, and cutt you three yeares shorter. Hec. Thou'rt now about some villany. Fire. Not I (forsooth) Truly the devil's in her I thinck. How one villanie smells out an other straight: Ther's no knavery but is nosde like a dog, and can smell out a doggs meaning. (Mother) I pray give me leave to ramble a-broad to-night with the nightmare, for I have a great mind to over-lay a fat parson's daughter. Hec. And who shall lye with me then? Fire. The great cat for one night (Mother). 'Tis but a night: make shift with him for once. Hec. You're a kind son: But 'tis the nature of you all, I see that: You had rather hunt after strange women still, Then lye with your owne mother: Gett thee gon: Sweatt thy six ounces out about the vessell, And thou shalt play at mid-night: the night-mare Shall call thee when it walkes. Fire. Thancks most sweet Mother. [Exit. Enter Sebastian. Hec. Urchins, Elves, Haggs, Satires, Pans, Fawnes, silence. Kitt with the candlestick; Tritons, Centaures, Dwarfes, Imps, the Spoone, the Mare, the Man i' th' oake; the Hell-waine, the Fire-drake, the Puckle. A. Ab. Hur. Hus. Seb. Heaven knowes with what unwillingnes and hate I enter this dambd place: but such extreemes Of wrongs in love, fight 'gainst religion's knowledge, That were I ledd by this disease to deaths As numberles as creatures that must die, I could not shun the way: I know what 'tis To pitty mad-men now; they're wretched things That ever were created, if they be Of woman's making, and her faithles vowes: I fear they're now a kissing: what's a clock? 'Tis now but supper-time: But night will come, And all new-married copples make short suppers. What ere thou art, I have no spare time to feare thee; My horrors are so strong and great already, That thou seem'st nothing: Up and laze not: Hadst thou my busynes, thou couldst nere sit soe; 'Twould firck thee into ayre a thousand mile, Beyond thy oynetments: I would, I were read So much in thy black powre, as mine owne greifes! I'me in great need of help: wil't give me any? Hec. Thy boldnes takes me bravely: we are all sworne To sweatt for such a spirit: See; I regard thee, I rise, and bid thee welcome. What's thy wish now? Seb. Oh my heart swells with't. I must take breath first. Hec. Is't to confound some enemie on the seas? It may be don to night. Stadlin's within; She raises all your sodaine ruinous stormes That shipwrack barks, aud teares up growing oakes, 'Flyes over houses, and takes Anno Domini Out of a rich man's chimney (a sweet place for't) He would be hang'd ere he would set his owne yeares there, They must be chamber'd in a five-pound picture, A greene silk curtaine dawne before the eies on't, (His rotten diseasd yeares)! Or dost thou envy The fat prosperitie of any neighbour? I'll call forth Hoppo, and her incantation Can straight destroy the yong of all his cattell: Blast vine-yards, orchards, meadowes; or in one night Transport his doong, hay, corne, by reekes, whole stacks, Into thine owne ground. Seb. This would come most richely now To many a cuntry grazier: But my envy Lies not so lowe as cattell, corne, or vines: 'Twill trouble your best powres to give me ease. Hec. Is yt to starve up generation? To strike a barrennes in man or woman? Seb. Hah! Hec. Hah! did you feele me there? I knew your griefe. Seb. Can there be such things don? Hec. Are theis the skins Of serpents? theis of snakes? Seb. I see they are. Hec. So sure into what house theis are convay'd Knitt with theis charmes, and retentive knotts, Neither the man begetts, nor woman breeds; No, nor performes the least desire of wedlock, Being then a mutuall dutie: I could give thee Chiroconita, Adincantida, Archimadon, Marmaritin, Calicia, Which I could sort to villanous barren ends, But this leades the same way: More I could instance: As the same needles thrust into their pillowes That soawes and socks up dead men in their sheets: A privy grizzel of a man that hangs After sun-sett: Good, excellent: yet all's there (Sir). Seb. You could not doe a man that speciall kindnes To part them utterly, now? Could you doe that? Hec. No: time must do't: we cannot disioyne wedlock: 'Tis of heaven's fastning: well may we raise jarrs, Jealouzies, striffes, and hart-burning disagreements, Like a thick skurff ore life, as did our master Upon that patient miracle: but the work itself Our powre cannot dis-joynt. Seb. I depart happy In what I have then, being constrain'd to this: And graunt you (greater powres) that dispose men, That I may never need this hag agen. [Exit. Hec. I know he loves me not, nor there's no hope on't; 'Tis for the love of mischief I doe this, And that we are sworne to the first oath we take. Fire. Oh mother, mother. Hec. What's the newes with thee now? Fire. There's the bravest yong gentleman within, and the fineliest drunck: I thought he would have falne into the vessel: he stumbled at a pipkin of childes greaze; reelde against Stadlin, overthrew her, and in the tumbling cast, struck up old Puckles heels with her clothes over her eares. Hec. Hoy-day! Fire. I was fayne to throw the cat upon her, to save her honestie; and all litle enough: I cryde out still, I pray be coverd. See where he comes now (Mother). Enter Almachildes. Alm. Call you theis witches? They be tumblers me-thinckes, very flat tumblers. Hec. 'Tis Almachildes: fresh blood stirrs in me— The man that I have lusted to enjoy: I have had him thrice in Incubus already. Al. Is your name gooddy Hag? Hec. 'Tis any thing. Call me the horridst and unhallowed things That life and nature tremble at; for thee I'll be the same. Thou com'st for a love-charme now? Al. Why thou'rt a witch, I thinck. Hec. Thou shalt have choice of twentie, wett, or drie. Al. Nay let's have drie ones. Hec. Yf thou wilt use't by way of cup and potion, I'll give thee a Remora shall be-witch her straight. Al. A Remora? what's that? Hec. A litle suck-stone, Some call it a stalamprey, a small fish. Al. And must 'be butter'd? Hec. The bones of a greene frog too: wondrous pretious, The flesh consum'd by pize-mires. Al. Pize-mires! give me a chamber-pot. Fire. You shall see him goe nigh to be so unmannerly, hee'll make water before my mother anon. Al. And now you talke of frogs, I have somewhat here: I come not emptie pocketted from a bancket. (I learn'd that of my haberdashers wife.) Looke, gooddy witch, there's a toad in marchpane for you. Hec. Oh sir, y'have fitted me. Al. And here's a spawne or two. Of the same paddock-brood too, for your son. Fire. I thanck your worship, sir: how comes your handkercher so sweetely thus beray'd? sure tis wet sucket, sir. Al. 'Tis nothing but the sirrup the toad spit, Take all I pree-thee. Hec. This was kindly don, sir, And you shall sup with me to-night for this. Al. How? sup with thee? dost thinck I'll eate fryde ratts, And pickled spiders? Hec. No: I can command, Sir, The best meat i' th' whole province for my frends, And reverently servd in too. Al. How? Hec. In good fashion. Al. Let me but see that, and I'll sup with you. She conjures; and enter a Catt (playing on a fidle) and Spiritts (with meate). The Catt and Fidle's an excellent ordinarie: You had a devill once in a fox-skin. Hec. Oh, I have him still: come walke with me, Sir. [Exit. Fire. How apt and ready is a drunckard now to reele to the devill! Well I'll even in, and see how he eates, and I'll be hang'd if I be not the fatter of the twaine with laughing at him. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE III. Enter Heccat, Witches, and Fire-Stone. Hec. The moone's a gallant; see how brisk she rides. Stad. Heer's a rich evening, Heccat. Hec. I, is't not wenches, To take a jorney of five thousand mile? Hop. Ours will be more to-night. Hec. Oh, 'twill be pretious: heard you the owle yet? Stad. Breifely in the copps, As we came through now. Hec. 'Tis high time for us then. Stad. There was a bat hoong at my lips three times As we came through the woods, and drank her fill. Old Puckle saw her. Hec. You are fortunate still: The very schreich-owle lights upon your shoulder, And wooes you, like a pidgeon. Are you furnish'd? Have you your oyntments? Stad. All. Hec. Prepare to flight then: I'll over-take you swiftly. Stad. Hye thee Heccat: We shal be up betimes. Hec. I'll reach you quickly. Fire. They are all going a birding to-night. They talk of fowles i'th' aire, that fly by day: I am sure they'll be a company of fowle slutts there to night. Yf we have not mortallitie affer'd, I'll be hang'd, for they are to putryfie, to infect a whole region. She spies me now. Hec. What Fire-Stone, our sweet son? Fire. A little sweeter then some of you; or a doong hill were too good for me. Hec. How much hast here? Fire. Nineteene, and all brave plump ones; besides six lizards, and three serpentine eggs. Hec. Deere and sweet boy: what herbes hast thou? Fire. I have some Mar-martin, and Man-dragon. Hec. Marmaritin, and Mandragora, thou wouldst say. Fire. Heer's Pannax too: I thanck thee, my pan pan akes I am sure with kneeling down to cut 'em Hec. And Selago, Hedge hisop too: how neere he goes my cuttings? Were they all cropt by moone-light? Fire. Every blad of 'em, or I am moone-calf (Mother). Hec. Hye thee home with 'em. Looke well to the house to night: I am for aloft. Fire. Aloft (quoth you?) I would you would breake your neck once, that I might have all quickly. Hark, hark, mother; they are above the steeple alredy, flying over your head with a noyse of musitians. Hec. They are they indeed. Help me help me; I'm too late els. Song. Come away, come away; Heccat, Heccat, come away. in the aire. Hec. I come, I come, I come, I come,   With all the speed I may,   With all the speed I may. Wher's Stadlin?   Heere in the aire. Wher's Puckle? Heere: And Hoppo too, and Hellwaine too: We lack but you; we lack but you; Come away, make up the count. in the aire. Hec. I will but noynt, and then I mount. [A spirit like a Cat descends. Ther's one comes downe to fetch his dues; A kisse, a coll, a sip of blood: And why thou staist so long above. I muse, I muse, Since the air's so sweet and good. Hec. Oh, art thou come,     What newes, what newes? All goes still to our delight,   Either come, or els Refuse, refuse. Hec. Now I am furnish'd for the flight. Fire. Hark, hark, the Catt signs a brave treble in her owne language. Hec. going up.] Now I goe, now I flie,   Malkin my sweete spirit and I. Oh what a daintie pleasure tis   To ride in the aire   When the moone shines faire, And sing and daunce, and toy and kiss:   Overwoods, high rocks, and mountaines,   Over seas, our mistris fountaines,   Over steepe towres and turretts   We fly by night, 'mongst troopes of spiritts.   No ring of bells to our eares sounds,   No howles of wolves, no yelpes of hounds;   No, not the noyse of water's-breache,   Or cannon's throat, our height can reache.     No Ring of bells, &c. above. Fire. Well mother, I thanck your kindnes: You must be gambolling i' th' aire, and leave me to walk here like a foole and a mortall. [Exit. ACT V. SCENE II. Enter Duchesse, Heccat, Firestone. Hec. What death is't you desire for Almachildes? Duch. A sodaine and a subtle. Hec. Then I have fitted you. Here lye the guifts of both; sodaine and subtle: His picture made in wax, and gently molten By a blew fire, kindled with dead mens' eyes, Will waste him by degrees. Duch. In what time, pree-thee? Hec. Perhaps in a moone's progresse. Duch. What? a moneth? Out upon pictures! if they be so tedious, Give me things with some life. Hec. Then seeke no farther. Duch. This must be don with speed, dispatch'd this night, If it may possible. Hec. I have it for you: Here's that will do't: stay but perfection's time, And that's not five howres hence. Duch. Canst thou do this? Hec. Can I? Duch. I meane, so closely. Hec. So closely doe you meane too? Duch. So artfully, so cunningly. Hec. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities, They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know   Cum volui, ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes   In fontes rediere suos; concussaq. sisto,   Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,   Nubilaq. induco: ventos abigoq. vocoq.   Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;   Et silvas moveo, jubeoq. tremiscere montes,   Et mugire solum, manesq. exire sepulchris.   Te quoque Luna traho. Can you doubt me then, daughter, That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk; Whole earth's foundation bellow, and the spiritts Of the entomb'd to burst out from their marbles; Nay, draw yond moone to my envolv'd designes? Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad and our great catt angrie; for one spitts French then, and thother spitts Latten. Duch. I did not doubt you, Mother. Hec. No? what did you, My powre's so firme, it is not to be question'd. Duch. Forgive what's past: and now I know th' offensivenes That vexes art, I'll shun th' occasion ever. Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter. It shall be convaid in at howlett-time. Take you no care. My spiritts know thir moments: Raven, or screitch-owle never fly by th' dore But they call in (I thanck 'em) and they loose not by't. I give 'em barley soak'd in infants' blood: They shall have semina cum sanguine, Their gorge cramd full if they come once to our house: We are no niggard. Fire. They fare but too well when they come heather: they eate up as much tother night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding. Hec. Give me some lizard's-braine: quickly Firestone. Wher's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o' th' sisters? Fire. All at hand forsooth. Hec. Give me Marmaritin; some Beare-breech: when? Fire. Heer's Beare-breech, and lizards-braine forsooth. Hec. In to the vessell; And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girle I kill'd last midnight. Fire. Whereabouts, sweet Mother? Hec. Hip; hip or flanck. Where is the Acopus? Fire. You shall have Acopus, forsooth. Hec. Stir, stir about; whilst I begin the charme. A charme Song, about a Vessell. Black spiritts, and white: Red spiritts, and gray; Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.   Titty, Tiffin, keepe it stiff in;   Fire-drake, Puckey, make it luckey;   Liard, Robin, you must bob in. Round, around, around, about, about; All ill come running in, all good keepe out! 1. Witch. Heer's the blood of a bat. Hec. Put in that; oh put in that. 2. Heer's libbard's-bane. Hec. Put in againe. 1. The juice of toad; the oile of adder. 2. Those will make the yonker madder. Hec. Put in; ther's all, and rid the stench. Fire. Nay heer's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench. All. Round, around, around, &c. Hec. So, soe, enough: into the vessell with it. There, 't hath the true perfection: I am so light At any mischief: ther's no villany But is a tune methinkes. Fire. A tune! 'tis to the tune of dampnation then, I warrant you; and that song hath a villanous burthen. Hec. Come my sweet sisters; let the aire strike our tune, Whilst we show reverence to yond peeping moone. [Here they daunce the Witches dance, and Exeunt *&stellam;*The following Songs are found in Sir William D'Avenant's alteration of this play, printed in 1674. The first and second of them were, I believe, written by him, being introduced at the end of the second Act, in a scene of which he undoubtedly was the author. Of the other song, which is sung in the third Act, the first words (Come away) are in the original copy of Macbeth, and the whole is found at length in Middleton's play, entitled The Witch, which has been lately printed from a manuscript in the collection of Major Pearson. Whether this song was written by Shakspeare, and omitted, like many others, in the printed copy, cannot now be ascertained. Malone. ACT II. First Song by the Witches. 1 Witch. Speak, sister, speak; is the deed done? 2 Witch. Long ago, long ago: Above twelve glasses since have run. 3 Witch. Ill deeds are seldom slow; Nor single; following crimes on former wait: The worst of creatures fastest propagate. Many more murders must this one ensue, As if in death were propagation too. 2 Witch. He will— 1 Witch. He shall— 3 Witch. He must spill much more blood; And become worse, to make his title good. 1 Witch. Now let's dance. 2 Witch. Agreed. 3 Witch. Agreed. 4 Witch. Agreed. Chor. We should rejoice when good kings bleed. When cattle die, about we go; What then, when monarchs perish, should we do? Second Song. Let's have a dance upon the heath; We gain more life by Duncan's death. Sometimes like brinded cats we shew, Having no musick but our mew: Sometimes we dance in some old mill, Upon the hopper, stones, and wheel, To some old saw, or bardish rhyme Where still the mill-clack does keep time. Sometimes about an hollow tree, Around, around, around dance we: Thither the chirping cricket comes, And beetle, singing drowsy hums: Sometimes we dance o'er fens and furze, To howls of wolves, and barks of curs: And when with none of those we meet, We dance to the echoes of our feet, At the night-raven's dismal voice, Whilst others tremble, we rejoice; And nimbly, nimbly dance we still, To the echoes from an hollow hill. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE V. Hecate and the Three Witches. Musick and Song. [Within.] Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O come away! Hec. Hark, I am call'd, my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Within.] Come away, Hecate, Hecate! O come away! Hec. I come, I come, with all the speed I may, With all the speed I may. Where's Stadling? 2. Here. [within.] Hec. Where's Puckle? 3. Here; [within.] And Hopper too, and Helway too* [Subnote: *And Hopper too, and Helway too.] In The Witch, these personages are called Hoppo and Hellwayne. Malone. “&lblank; Helway. &lblank;” The name of this witch, perhaps, originates from the leader of a train of frolicksome apparitions, supposed to exist in Normandy, ann. 1091. He is called by Ordericus Vitalis (l. viii. p. 695,) Herlechin. In the continuation of The Canterbury Tales of Chauncer, (verse 8,) he is changed to—Hurlewayne. In the French Romance of Richard sans peur, he becomes— Hellequin. Hence, I suppose, according to the chances of spelling, pronunciation, &c. are derived the Helwin and Helwayne of Middleton, and, eventually, the Helway of Sir William D' Avenant. —See Mr. Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, vol. v. pp. 270, 271, in voc. Meinie. It may also be observed, (trivial as the remark appears,) that here we have not only Herlechinus, but the familia Herlechini, which, with sufficient singularity, still subsists on the Italian stage and our own. It is needless to mention, that the bills at our country fairs continue to promise entertainment from the exertions of “Mr. Punch and his merry family.” As the work of Ord. Vital, who died in 1143, is known to exhibit the name of Harlequin, it will not readily be allowed that his theatrical namesake was obliged, for the same title, to an invention of Francis I. in ridicule of his enemy, Charles le Quint, who was born in 1500, and left the world in 1558. See Johnson's Dictionary, in voc. Harlequin. Steevens.]. We want but you, we want but you: Come away, make up the count. Hec. I will but 'noint, and then I mount: I will but 'noint, &c. [Within.] Here comes down one to fetch his dues, [A Machine with Malkin in it descends* [Subnote: *This stage direction I have added. In The Witch there is the following marginal note: “A spirit like a cat descends.” In Sir W. D'Avenant's alteration of Macbeth, printed in 1674, this song, as well as all the rest of the piece, is printed very incorrectly. I have endeavoured to distribute the different parts of the song before us, as, I imagine, the author intended. Malone.] . A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood; And why thou stay'st so long, I muse, Since the air's so sweet and good. Hec. O, art thou come? What news? [Within.] All goes fair for our delight: Either come, or else refuse. Hec. Now I'm furnish'd for the flight; [Hecate places herself in the Machine. Now I go, and now I fly, Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I. O, what a dainty pleasure's this, To sail i' the air, While the moon shines fair; To sing, to toy, to dance, and kiss! Over woods, high rocks, and mountains; Over hills; and misty fountains† [Subnote: †“Over hills,” &c. In The Witch, instead of this line, we find: “Over seas, our mistress fountains.” Malone.] ; Over steeples, towers, and turrets, We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits. No ring of bells to our ears sounds, No howls of wolves, nor yelps of hounds; No, not the noise of water's breach, Nor cannons' throat our height can reach. [Hecate ascends. 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. 2 Witch. But whilst she moves through the foggy air, Let's to the cave, and our dire charms prepare. [Exeunt.

Note return to page 584 10211001 [See p. 85.] “&lblank; his two chamberlains “Will I with wine and wassel so convince, &c. “&lblank; Will it not be receiv'd, “When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two “Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers, “That they have don't?” In the original Scottish History, by Boethius, and in Holinshed's Chronicle, we are merely told that Macbeth slew Duncan at Inverness. No particulars whatsover are mentioned. The circumstance of making Duncan's chamberlains drunk, and laying the guilt of his murder upon them, as well as some other circumstances, our author has taken from the history of Duffe, king of Scotland, who was murdered by Donwald, Captain of the castle of Fores, about eighty years before Duncan ascended the throne. The fact is thus told by Holinshed, in p. 150 of his Scottish History, [208, edit. 1577.] (the history of the reign of Duncan commences in p. 168: [239, edit. 1577.]) “Donwald, not forgetting the reproach which his linage had susteined by the execution of those his kinsmen, whom the king for a spectacle to the people had caused to be hanged, could not but shew manifest tokens of great griefe at home amongst his familie: which his wife perceiving, ceased not to travell with him till she understood what the cause was of his displeasure. Which at length when she had learned by his owne relation, she, as one that bare no lesse malice in hir heart, for the like cause on his behalfe, than hir husband did for his friends, counselled him (sith the king used oftentimes to lodge in his house without anie gard about him other than the garrison of the castle, [of Fores,] which was wholie at his commandement) to make him awaie, and showed him the meanes whereby he might soonest accomplish it. “Donwald, thus being the more kindled in wrath by the words of his wife, determined to follow hir advice in the execution of so heinous an act. Whereupon devising with himselfe for a while, which way hee might best accomplish his cursed intent, at length gat opportunitie, and sped his purpose as followeth. It chanced that the king upon the daie before he purposed to depart foorth of the castell, was long in his oratorie at his praiers, and there continued till it was late in the night. At the last, comming foorth, he called such afore him as had faithfullie served him in pursute and apprehension of the rebels, and giving them heartie thanks he bestowed sundrie honourable gifts amongst them, of the which number Donwald was one, as he that had been ever accounted a most faithful servant to the king. “At length, having talked with them a long time he got him into his private chamber, onlie with two of his chamberlains, who having brought him to bed, came foorth againe, and then fell to banketting with Donwald and his wife, who had prepared diverse delicate dishes, and sundrie sorts of drinks for their reare supper or collation, whereat they sate up so long, till they had charged their stomachs with such full gorges, that their heads were no sooner got to the pillow, but asleepe they were so fast, that a man might have removed the chamber over them, sooner than to have awaked them out of their drunken sleepe. “Then Donwald, though he abhorred the act greatlie in heart, yet through instigation of his wife, he called foure of his servants unto him, (whom he had made privie to his wicked intent before, and framed to his purpose with large gifts,) and now declaring unto them, after what sort they should worke the feat, they gladlie obeyed his instructions, and speedilie going about the murther, they enter the chamber in which the king laie, a little before cocks crow, where they secretlie cut his throte as he lay sleeping, without any buskling at all: and immediately by a posterne gate they carried foorth the dead bodie into the fields, and throwing it upon a horse there provided for that purpose, they convey it unto a place about two miles distant from the castell.— “Donwald, about the time that the murther was in dooing, got him amongst them that kept the watch, and so continued to companie with them all the residue of the night. But in the morning when the noise was raised in the kings chamber, how the king was slaine, his bodie conveied awaie, and the bed all bewraied with bloud, he with the watch ran thither, as though he had known nothing of the matter; and breaking into the chamber, and finding cakes of bloud in the bed, and on the floore about the sides of it, he forthwith slew the chamberlains, as guiltie of that heinous murther, and then like a madman running to and fro, he ransacked everie corner within the castell, as thoogh it had beene to have seene if he might have found either the bodie, or any of the murtherers hid in anie privie place: but at length comming to the posterne gate, and finding it open, he burdened the chamberleins, whom he had slaine, with all the fault, they having the keyes of the gates committed to their keeping all the night, and therefore it could not be otherwise (said he) but that they were of counsell in the committing of that most detestable murther. “Finallie, such was his over-earnest diligence in the severe inquisition and trial of the offenders heerein, that some of the lords began to mislike the matter, and to smell foorth shrewd tokens that he should not be altogether cleare himselfe. But for so much as they were in that countrie where he had the whole rule, what by reason of his friends and authoritie together, they doubted to utter what they thought, till time and place should better serve thereunto, and hereupon got them awaie everie man to his home.” Malone.

Note return to page 585 10211002 See p. 114, n. 2.] After the horrour and agitation of this scene, the reader may, perhaps, not be displeased to pause for a few minutes. The consummate art which Shakspeare has displayed in the preparation for the murder of Duncan, and during the commission of the dreadful act, cannot but strike every intelligent reader. An ingenious writer, however, whose comparative view of Macbeth and Richard III. has just reached my hands, has developed some of the more minute traits of the character of Macbeth, particularly in the present and subsequent scene, with such acuteness of observation, that I am tempted to transcribe such of his remarks as relate to the subject now before us, though I do not entirely agree with him. After having proved, by a deduction of many particulars, that the towering ambition of Richard is of a very different colour from that of Macbeth, whose weaker desires seem only to aim at pre-eminence of place, not of dominion, he adds: “Upon the same principle a distinction still stronger is made in the article of courage, though both are possessed of it even to an eminent degree; but in Richard it is intrepidity, and in Macbeth no more than resolution: in him it proceeds from exertion, not from nature; in enterprize he betrays a degree of fear, though he is able, when occasion requires, to stifle and subdue it. When he and his wife are concerting the murder, his doubt, ‘if we should fail?’ is a difficulty raised by an apprehension, and as soon as that is removed by the contrivance of Lady Macbeth, to make the officers drunk and lay the crime upon them, he runs with violence into the other extreme of confidence, and cries out, with a rapture unusual to him, ‘&lblank; Bring forth men children only, &c. ‘&lblank; Will it not be receiv'd ‘When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two ‘Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers, ‘That they have done it?’ which question he puts to her who had the moment before suggested the thought of— ‘His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt ‘Of our geat quell.’ And his asking it again, proceeds from that extravagance with which a delivery from apprehension and doubt is always accompanied. Then, summoning all his fortitude, he says, ‘I am settled,’ &c. and proceeds to the bloody business without any further recoil. But a certain degree of restlessness and anxiety still continues, such as is constantly felt by a man not naturally very bold, worked up to a momentous atchievement. His imagination dwells entirely on the circumstances of horrour which surround him; the vision of the dagger; the darkness and the stillness of the night, and the terrors and the prayers of the chamberlains. Lady Macbeth, who is cool and undismayed, attends to the business only; considers of the place where she had laid the daggers ready; the impossibility of his missing them; and is afraid of nothing but a disappointment. She is earnest and eager; he is uneasy and impatient; and therefore wishes it over: ‘I go, and it is done;’ &c. “But a resolution thus forced cannot hold longer than the immediate occasion for it: the moment after that is accomplished for which it was necessary, his thoughts take the contrary turn, and he cries out, in agony and despair,— ‘Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou could'st.’ “That courage which had supported him while he was settled and bent up, forsakes him so immediately after he has performed the terrible feat, for which it had been exerted, that he forgets the favourite circumstance of laying it on the officers of the bed-chamber; and, when reminded of it, he refuses to return and complete his work, acknowledging— ‘I am afraid to think what I have done; ‘Look on't again I dare not.’ “His disordered senses deceive him; and his debilitated spirits fail him; he owns that ‘every noise appals him:’ he listens when nothing stirs; he mistakes the sounds he does hear; he is so confused as not to know whence the knocking proceeds. She, who is more calm, knows that it is from the south entry; she gives clear and direct answers to all the incoherent questions he asks her; but he returns none to that which she puts to him; and though after some time, and when necessity again urges him to recollect himself, he recovers so far as to conceal his distress, yet he still is not able to divert his thoughts from it: all his answers to the trivial questions of Lenox and Macduff are evidently given by a man thinking of something else; and by taking a tincture from the subject of his attention, they become equivocal: ‘Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? ‘Macb. Not yet. ‘Len. Goes the king hence to-day? ‘Macb. He did appoint so. ‘Len. The night has been unruly; where we lay ‘Our chimneys were blown down; &c. ‘Macb. 'Twas a rough night.’ “Not yet implies that he will by and by, and is a kind of guard against any suspicion of his knowing that the king would never stir more. He did appoint so, is the very counterpart of that which he had said to Lady Macbeth, when on his first meeting her she asked him— ‘Lady M. When goes he hence? ‘Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes.’ in both which answers he alludes to his disappointing the King's intention. And when forced to make some reply to the long description given by Lenox, he puts off the subject which the other was so much inclined to dwell on, by a slight acquiescence in what had been said of the roughness of the night; but not like a man who had been attentive to the account, or was willing to keep up the conversation.” Remarks on some of the Characters of Shakspeare, [by Mr. Whateley,] 8vo. 1785. To these ingenious observations I entirely subscribe, except that I think the wavering irresolution and agitation of Macbeth after the murder ought not to be ascribed solely to a remission of courage, since much of it may be imputed to the remorse which would arise in a man who was of a good natural disposition, and is described as originally “full of the milk of human kindness; —not without ambition, but without the illness should attend it.” Malone. A most decisive refutation of Mr. Whateley's Essay, as far as the courage of Macbeth is concerned, which will serve equally well as an answer to Mr. Steevens's note in a former page, was published by Mr. Kemble in the year 1786. A new edition of this Essay, enlarged and improved, appeared in 1817. The knowledge which it displays of our great poet's meaning and spirit, would be sufficient to account for that distinguished performer's superiority over all his contemporaries in the exhibition of Shakspeare's characters. It is with good acting as with good writing: “Sapere est et principium et fons.” Boswell. See Remarks on Mr. Whateley's Dissertation, p. 277, et seq. They first appeared in the European Magazine, for April, 1787. I cannot, however, dismiss this subject without taking some notice of an observation that rather diminishes than encreases the reputation of the foregoing tragedy. It has been more than once observed by Mr. Boswell, and other collectors of Dr. Johnson's fugitive remarks, that he always described Macbeth as a drama that might be exhibited by puppets; and that it was rather injured than improved by scenical accompaniments, et quicquid telorum habent armamentaria theatri. I must confess, I know not on what circumstances in this tragedy such a decision could have been founded; nor shall I feel myself disposed to admit the propriety of it, till the inimitable performances of Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard have faded from my remembrance. Be it observed, however, that my great coadjutor had not advanced this position among his original or subsequent comments on Macbeth. It rather seems to have been an effusion provoked from him in the warmth of controversy, and not of such a nature as he himself would have trusted to the press. In Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit. p. 386, the Doctor makes the following frank confession: “Nobody, at times, talks more laxly than I do.” Yet they are mistaken who think he was sufficiently adventurous to print whatever his mind suggested. I know The Life of Milton to have been composed under the strongest restraint of public opinion. The reports of our metropolitan, as well as provincial theatres, will testify, that no dramatic piece is more lucrative in representation than Macbeth. It is equally a favourite with the highest and lowest ranks of society; those who delight in rational amusement, and those who seek their gratification in pageantry and show. Whence, then, such constant success and popularity as attends it, if stage exhibition, in this unfortunate instance, not only refuses to co-operate with the genius of Shakspeare, but obstinately proceeds to counteract the best and boldest of his designs? Has the insufficiency of machinists hitherto disgraced the imagery of the poet? or is it in itself too sublime for scenical contrivances to keep pace with? or must we at last be compelled to own that our author's cave of incantation, &c. &c. are a mere abortive parade, that raises expectation only to disappoint it, and keeps, like his own Witches, “&lblank; the word of promise to our ear, “And breaks it to our hope?” Let me subjoin, that I much question if Dr. Johnson ever saw the characters of Macbeth and his wife represented by those who have most excelled in them; or, if he did, that in this, or any other tragedy, the blended excellence of a Garrick and a Pritchard had sufficient power to fix his attention on the business of the stage. He most certainly had no partialities in its favour, and as small a turn for appropriate embellishments. Add to this, that his defective hearing, as well as eye-sight, must especially have disqualified him from being an adequate judge on the present occasion. When Mrs. Abington solicited his attendance at her benefit, he plainly told her, he “could not hear.”—“Baretti,” said he, (looking toward the bar at which the prisoner stood,) “cannot see my face, nor can I see his.” Much less distinguishable to the Doctor would have been the features of actors, because, in a playhouse, their situation must have been yet remoter from his own. Without the ability of seeing, therefore, he had no means of deciding on the merit of dramatick spectacles: and who will venture to assert that a legitimate impersonation of the guilty Thane does not more immediately depend on expression of countenance, than on the most vigorous exertions of gesticulation or voice? Dr. Johnson's sentiments, on almost all subjects, may justly claim my undissembled homage; but I cannot acquiesce in the condemnation of such stage-exhibitions as his known prejudices, want of attention, eye-sight, and hearing, forbade him to enjoy. His decree, therefore, in the present instance, is, I hope, not irreversible: Quid valet, ad surdas si cantet Phemius aures? Quid cœcum Thamyran picta tabella juvat. Steevens. I am pretty well acquainted with the works to which Mr. Steevens has referred in the beginning of his note; but I cannot recollect, in any one of them, what that gentleman has professed to have found in them all. Had Johnson uttered such a remark, it would not have conveyed any slight opinion of Macbeth, but, rather, would have been an instance of his prejudice against actors, for which Mr. Steevens has well accounted. That this sublime drama stands in no need of scenic decoration will be readily allowed; but those who have had the good fortune to hear the scenes of witchcraft read by the greatest actress of this, or perhaps of any other age, will acknowledge that even “Shakspeare's magick” may derive additional solemnity from (what I could almost term) the unearthly recitation of Mrs. Siddons. Boswell.

Note return to page 586 WINTOWNIS CRONYKIL. BOOK VI. CHAP. XVIII. Qwhen Makbeth-Fynlay rase And regnand in-til Scotland was. IN þis tyme, as yhe herd me tell Of Trewsone þat in Ingland fell, In Scotland nere þe lyk cás Be Makbeth-Fynlayk practykyd was, Quhen he mwrthrysyde his awyne Eme, Be hope, þat he had in a dreme, Ðat he sawe, quhen he wes yhyng In Hows duelland wyth þe Kyng, Ðat fayrly trettyd hym and welle In all, þat langyd hym ilkè dele: For he wes hys Systyr Sone, Hys yharnyng all he gert be done. A' nycht he thowcht in hys dremyng, Ðat syttand he wes besyde þe Kyng At a Sete in hwntyng; swá In-til his Leisch had Grewhundys twá. He thowcht, quhile he wes swá syttand, He sawe thre Wamen by gangand; And þái Wemen þan thowcht he Thre Werd Systrys mást lyk to be. Ðe fyrst he hard say gangand by, ‘Lo, yhondyr þe Thayne of Crwmbawchty.’ Ðe toþir Woman sayd agayne, ‘Of Morave yhondyre I se þe Thayne.’ Ðe thryd þan sayd, ‘I se þe Kyng.’ All þis he herd in hys dremyng. [Subnote: L. 26.] This is the original of the story of the Weird Sisters, whom Shakspeare has rendered so familiar to every reader: in its original state it is within the bounds of probability. D. Macpherson.] Sone eftyre þat in hys yhowthad Of thyr Thayndomys he Thayne wes made. Syne neyst he thowcht to be Kyng, Frá Dunkanys dayis had táne endyng. Ðe fantasy þus of hys Dreme Movyd hym mást to sla hys Eme; As he dyd all furth in-dede, As before yhe herd me rede, And Dame Grwok, hys Emys Wyf, Tuk, and led wyth hyr hys lyf, And held hyr báthe hys Wyf, and Qweyne, As befor þan scho had beyne Til hys Eme Qwene, lyvand Quhen he wes Kyng wyth Crowne rygnand: For lytyl in honowre þan had he Ðe greys of Affynytè. All þus quhen his Eme wes dede, He succedyt in his stede: And sevyntene wyntyr full rygnand As Kyng he wes þan in-til Scotland. All hys tyme was gret Plentè Abowndand, báth on Land and Se. He wes in Justice rycht lawchful, And til hys Legis all awful. Quhen Leo þe tend wes Pápe of Rome, As Pylgryne to þe Curt he come: And in hys Almus he sew Sylver Til all pure folk, þat had myster. And all tyme oysyd he to wyrk Profytably for Haly Kyrke. Bot, as we fynd be sum Storys, Gottyne he wes on ferly wys. Hys Modyr to Woddis mád oft repayre For þe delyte of halesum ayre. Swá, scho past a-pon á day Til a Wod, hyr for to play: Scho met of cás wyth a fayr man (Nevyr náne sá fayre, as scho thowcht þan, Before þan had scho sene wytht sycht) Of Bewtè plesand, and of Hycht Proportyownd wele, in all mesoure Of Lym and Lyth a fayre fygowre. In swylk a qweyntans swá þai fell, Ðat, schortly þare-of for to tell, Ðar in þar Gamyn and þar Play Ðat Persown be that Woman lay, And on hyr þat tyme to Sowne gat Ðis Makbeth, þat eftyr þat Grew til þir Státis, and þis hycht, To þis gret powere, and þis mycht, As befor yhe have herd sayd. Frá þis persowne wyth hyr had playd, And had þe Jowrnè wyth hyr done, Ðat he had gottyne on hyr a Sone, (And he þe De&wuml;il wes, þat hym gat) And bad hyr noucht fleyd to be of þat; Bot sayd, þat hyr Sone suld be A man of gret state, and bowntè; And ná man suld be borne of wyf Of powere to re&wuml;e hym hys lyf. And of þat Dede in taknyng He gave his Lemman þare a Ryng; And bad hyr, þat scho suld kepe þat wele, And hald for hys luve þat Jwele. Eftyr þat oft oysyd he Til cum til hyr in pre&wuml;até; And tauld hyr mony thyngis to fall; Set trowd þai suld noucht ha&wuml;e bene all. At hyr tyme scho wes lychtare, And þat Sowne, þat he gat, scho bare. Makbeth-Fynlake wes cald hys name, Ðat grewe, as yhe herd, til gret fame. Ðis was Makbethys Ofspryng, Ðat hym eftyr mád oure Kyng, As of þat sum Story sayis; Set of hys Get fell oþir wayis, And to be gottyn kyndly, As oþir men ar generaly. [Subnote: L. 104.] The tale of the supernatural descent of Macbeth, copied, perhaps, from that of Merlin, by Geoffrey of Monmouth, puts him on a footing with the heroes and demigods of ancient fable. It was not, however, intended, by the inventors of it, to do honour to his memory, but to ingratiate themselves with the reigning family; for they concluded, from wicked men being allegorically called Sons of Belial in the Scripture, that to call a man the son of the devil was to call him every thing that was bad. How many ugly stories were, in a more enlightened age, reported of Richard III. of England, in order to flatter the family which rose on his fall? Both these princes have had the additional misfortune to be gibbetted in Shakspeare's drama, as objects of detestation to all succeeding ages, as long as theatres shall be attended, and, perhaps, long after Shakspeare's own language shall have become unintelligible to the bulk of English readers. Wyntown, however, gravely cautions us against believing this foolish story, by telling us immediately that his “Get” was “kyndly” as other men's. The brief account of Macbeth's life raises his character above all the preceding princes, at least in as far as their actions are known to us. The “&lblank; gret plente “Abowndand, bath on land and se,” and the riches of the country during his reign, which, together with the firm establishment of his government, enabled him to make a journey to Rome, and there to exercise a liberality of charity to the poor, remarkable even in that general resort of wealthy pilgrims, exhibit undeniable proofs of a beneficent government, and a prudent attention to agriculture, and to the fishery, that inexhaustible fund of wealth, wherewith bountiful nature has surrounded Scotland. Macbeth's journey to Rome is not a fable, as supposed by the learned and worthy author of The Annals of Scotland, [vol. i. p. 3, note,] but rests on the evidence of Marianus Scotus, a respectable contemporary historian, whose words, almost literally translated by Wyntown, are—“A. D. ml. Rex Scotie Machetad Rome argentum seminando pauperibus distribuit.” [See VI. xviii. 48, 63, 303, 408.] The only blot upon his memory is the murder of his predecessor, (if it was indeed a murder,) who, to make the crime the blacker, is called his uncle, though that point is extremely doubtful. Among the numerous kings who made their way to the throne by the same means, is Greg, who is held up as a mirror to princes. To this is added the crime of incest in taking his uncle's widow to wife; but, admitting her former husband to have been his uncle, we must remember, that the rules concerning marriage in Scotland appear to have been partly formed upon the Jewish model, before the ecclesiastical polity was re-formed, or romanized, by the influence of Queen Margaret. [Vita Margaretæ ap. Bollandi Acta Sanctorum 10mo. Junii, p. 331.] Thus much was due from justice to a character calumniated in the beaten track of history. D. Macpherson.] And quhen fyrst he to rys began, Hys Emys Sownnys twa lauchful þan For dowt owt of þe Kynryk fled. Malcolme, noucht gottyn of lauchful bed, Ðe thryd, past off þe Land alsuá As banysyd wyth hys Breþyr twá, Til Saynt Edward in Ingland, Ðat þat tyme þare wes Kyng ryngnand. He þayme ressa&wuml;yd thankfully, And trettyd þame rycht curtasly. And in Scotland þan as Kyng Ðis Makbeth mád gret steryng; And set hym þan in hys powere A gret Hows for to mak of Were A-pon þe hycht of Dwnsynane: Tymbyr þare-til to drawe, and stáne, Of fyfe, and of Angws, he Gert mony oxin gadryd be. Sá, on á day in þare tra&wuml;aile A yhok of oxyn Makbeth saw fayle: Ðat speryt Makbeth, quha þat awcht Ðe yhoke, þat faylyd in þat drawcht. Ðai awnsweryd til Makbeth agayne, And sayd, Makduff of Fyfe þe Thayne Ðat ilk yhoke of oxyn awcht, Ðat he saw fayle in-to þe drawcht. Ðan spak Makbeth dyspytusly, And to þe Thayne sayd angryly, Lyk all wrythyn in hys skyn, His awyn Nek he suld put in Ðe yhoke, and ger hym drawchtis drawe, Noucht dowtand all hys Kynnys awe. Frá þe Thayne Makbeth herd speke, Ðat he wald put in yhok hys Neke, Of all hys thowcht he mád ná Sang; Bot pre&wuml;aly owt of þe thrang Wyth slycht he gat; and þe Spensere A Láfe him ga&wuml;e til hys Supere. And als swne as he mycht se Hys tyme and opportunytè, Owt of þe Curt he past, and ran, And þat Láyf bare wyth hym þan To þe Wattyre of Eryne. Ðat Brede He ga&wuml;e þe Batwartis hym to lede, And on þe sowth half hym to sete, But delay, or ony lete. Ðat passage cald wes eftyre þan Lang tyme Portnebaryan; [Subnote: L. 152.] In the infancy of navigation, when its efforts extended no further than crossing a river, ferrying places were the only harbours, and were called port in the Gaelic languages, and apparently in the most ancient Greek. Hence we have so many places on the banks of rivers and lochs in Scotland, called ports, and hence the Greek called their ferry-boats porthmia and porthmides. [Dictionaries, and Calcagnini Opera, p. 307.] No ferry on the Earn is known by this name; perhaps it was originally the braide [broad] ferry, which being confounded with bread, has been gaelized port-ne-bara, the harbour of bread. [v. Davies Dict. Brit. v. Bara.] The transcriber of the Cotton MS. has here interpolated a line with a French explanation of the name. [v. V. R.] D. Macpherson.] Ðe Ha&wuml;yn of Brede þat suld be Callyd in-tyl propyrtè. Owre þe Wattyre þan wes he sete, Bwt dawngere, or bwt ony lete. At Dwnsynane Makbeth þat nycht, As sone as hys Supere wes dycht, And hys Marchalle hym to þe Halle Fechyd, þan amang þaim all Awaye þe Thayne of Fyfe wes myst; And ná man, quhare he wes, þan wyst. Yhit a Knycht, at þat Supere Ðat til Makbeth wes syttand nere, Sayd til hym, it wes hys part For til wyt sowne, quheþirwart Ðe Thayne of Fyfe þat tyme past: For he a wys man wes of cast, And in hys Deyd wes rycht wyly. Til Makbeth he sayd, for-þi For ná cost þat he suld spare, Sowne to wyt quhare Makduffe ware. Ðis heyly movyd Makbeth in-dede Agayne Makduffe þan to procede. Yhit Makduff nevyrþeles Ðat set besowth þe Wattyre wes Of Erne, þan past on in Fyfe Til Kennawchy, quhare þan hys Wyfe Dwelt in a Hows mád of defens: [Subnote: L. 179.] This “hows of defens” was perhaps Maiden Castle, the ruins of which are on the south side of the present Kennoway. There are some remains of Roman antiquity in this neighbourhood, and it is very probable that Macduff's castle stood on the site of a Roman Castellum. D. Macpherson.] And bad hyr, wyth gret diligens Kepe þat Hows, and gyve þe Kyng Ðiddyr come, and mád bydyng Ðare ony Felny for to do, He gave hyr byddyng þan, þat scho Suld hald Makbeth in fayre Trettè, A Bate quhill scho suld sayland se Frá north to þe sowth passand; And frá scho sawe þat Bate sayland, Ðan tell Makbeth, þe Thayne wes þare Of Fyfe, and til Dwnsynane fare To byde Makbeth; for þe Thayne Of Fyfe thowcht, or he come agayne Til Kennawchy, þan for til bryng Háme wyth hym a lawchful Kyng. Til Kennawchy Makbeth come sone, And Felny gret þare wald have done: Bot þis Lady wyth fayre Trettè Hys purpos lettyde done to be. And sone, frá scho þe Sayle wp saw, Ðan til Makbeth wyth lytil awe Scho sayd, ‘Makbeth, luke wp, and se ‘Wndyr yhon Sayle forsuth is he, ‘Ðe Thayne of Fyfe, þat þow has sowcht. ‘Trowe þowe welle, and dowt rycht nowcht, ‘Gyve evyr þow sall hym se agayne, ‘He sall þe set in-tyl gret payne; ‘Syne þow wald ha&wuml;e put hys Neke ‘In-til þi yhoke. Now will I speke ‘Wyth þe ná mare: fare on þi waye, ‘Owþire welle, or ill, as happyne may.’ Ðat passage syne wes comownly In Scotland cald þe Erlys-ferry. Of þat Ferry for to knaw Báth þe Statute and þe Lawe, A Bate suld be on ilkè syde For to wayt, and tak þe Tyde, Til mak þame frawcht, þat wald be Frá land to land be-yhond þe Se. Frá þat þe sowth Bate ware sene Ðe landis wndyre sayle betwene Frá þe sowth as þan passand Toward þe north þe trad haldand, Ðe north Bate suld be redy made Towart þe sowth to hald þe trade: And þare suld náne pay mare Ðan foure pennys for þare fare, Quha-evyr for his frawcht wald be For caus frawchtyd owre þat Se. [Subnote: L. 228.] Four pennies, in Wyntown's time, weighed about one eightieth part of a pound of silver: how much they were in Macbeth's time, I suppose, cannot be ascertained; but, in the reign of David Ist, they weighed one sixtieth of a pound. If we could trust to Regiam Majestatem, four pennies, in David's time, were the value of one third of a boll of wheat, or two lagenæ of wine, or four lagenæ of ale, or half a sheep. [Tables of Money and Prices in Ruddiman's Introduction to And. Diplo. For the quantity of the lagenæ compare VIII. xvii. 35, with Fordun, p. 990: Sc. Chr. v. ii. p. 223, wherein lagena is equivalent to galown in Wyntown.] It is reasonable to suppose, that the whole of the boat was hired for this sum. The landing place on the south side was most probably at North Berwick, which belonged to the family of Fife, who founded the nunnery there. D. Macpherson.] Ðis Makduff þan als fast In Ingland a-pon Cowndyt past. Ðare Dunkanys Sownnys thre he fand, Ðat ware as banysyd off Scotland, Quhen Makbeth-Fynlake þare Fadyr slwe, And all þe Kynryk til hym drwe. Saynt Edward Kyng of Ingland þan, Ðat wes of lyf a haly man, Ðat trettyd þir Barnys honestly, Ressayvyd Makduff rych curtasly, Quhen he come til hys presens, And mád hym honowre and reverens, As afferyd. Til þe Kyng He tauld þe caus of hys cummyng. Ðe Kyng þan herd hym movyrly, And answeryd hym all gudlykly, And sayd, hys wyll and hys delyte Wes to se for þe profyte Of þá Barnys; and hys wille Wes þare honowre to fullfille. He cownsalyd þis Makduffe for-þi To trete þá Barnys curtasly. And quhilk of þame wald wyth hym gá, He suld in all þame sykkyre má, As þai wald þame redy mak For þare Fadyre dede to take Revengeans, or wald þare herytage, Ðat to þame felle by rycht lynage, He wald þame helpe in all þare rycht With gret suppowale, fors, and mycht. Schortly to say, þe lawchful twá Breþire forsuke wyth hym to gá For dowt, he put þaim in þat peryle, Ðat þare Fadyre sufferyd qwhyle. Malcolme þe thyrd, to say schortly, Makduff cownsalyd rycht thraly, Set he wes noucht of lauchfull bed, As in þis Buke yhe have herd rede: Makduff hym trettyd nevyr-þe-les To be of stark hart and stowtnes, And manlykly to tak on hand To bere þe Crowne þan of Scotland: And bade hym þare-of ha&wuml;e ná drede: For kyng he suld be made in-dede: And þat Traytoure ne suld sla, Ðat banysyd hym and hys Bredyr twa. [Subnote: L. 274.] The story of these two brothers of Malcolm, (see also c. xvi. of this book) and their refusal of the kingdom, which he, a bastard, obtained, seems to be a mere fiction. Yet, why it should have been invented, I can see no reason: surely not with intent to disgrace Malcolm, whose posterity never lost the crown, and were such eminent friends to the church. The transcriber of the Harleian MS. not liking this story, so derogatory to the royal family, omitted it in his transcript, and afterwards, changing his mind, added it at the end of his book. All the Scottish writers, who followed Wyntown, have carefully suppressed it. Of Malcolm's brothers only Donald, who reigned after him, is known to the Scottish historians: but another Melmare is mentioned in Orkneyinga Saga, [p. 176,] whose son Maddad, Earl of Athol, is called son of a King Donald by the genealogists, because they knew of no other brother of Malcolm. Perhaps Melmare is the same whom Kennedy calls Oberard, and says, that on the usurpation of Macbeth he fled to Norway, (more likely to his cousin the Earl of Orknay, which was a Norwegian country,) and was progenitor of an Italian family, called Cantelmi. [Dissertation on the Family of Stuart, p. 193, where he refers to records examined reg. Car. II.] In Scala Chronica [ap. Lel. v. i. p. 529] there is a confused story of two brothers of Malcolm. These various notices seem sufficient to establish the existence of two brothers of Malcolm; but that either of them was preferable to him for age or legitimacy is extremely improbable. It is, however, proper to observe, that, in those days, bastardy was scarcely an impediment in the succession to the crown in the neighbouring kingdoms of Norway and Ireland; that Alexander, the son of this Malcolm, took a bastard for his queen; and that, in England, a victorious king, the contemporary of Malcolm, assumed bastard as a title in his charters. John Cumin, the competitor for the crown, who derived his right from Donald, the brother of Malcolm, knew nothing of this story, which, if true, would at least have furnished him an excellent argument. D. Macpherson.] Ðam Malcolme sayd, he had a ferly, Ðat he hym fandyde sá thraly Of Scotland to tak þe Crowne, Qwhill he kend hys condytyowne. Forsuth, he sayde, þare wes náne þan Swá lycherows a lyvand man, As he wes; and for þat thyng He dowtyde to be made a Kyng. A Kyngis lyf, he sayd, suld be Ay led in-til gret honestè: For-þi he cowth i&wuml;yl be a Kyng, He sayd, þat oysyd swylk lyvyng. Makduff þan sayd til hym agayne, Ðat þat excusatyowne wes in &wuml;ayne: For gyve he oysyd þat in-dede, Of Women he suld have ná nede; For of hys awyne Land suld he Fayre Wemen have in gret plentè. Gyve he had Conscyens of þat plycht, Mend to God, þat has þe mycht. Ðan Malcolme sayd, ‘Ðare is mare, ‘Ðat lettis me wyth þe to fare: ‘Ðat is, þat I am suá brynnand ‘In Co&wuml;atys, þat all Scotland ‘Owre lytil is to my persowne: ‘I set nowcht þare-by a bwttowne.’ Makduff sayd, ‘Cum on wyth me: ‘In Ryches þow sall abowndand be. ‘Trow wele þe Kynryk of Scotland ‘Is in Ryches abowndand.’ Yhit mare Malcolme sayd agayne ‘Til Makduff of Fyfe þe Thayne, ‘Ðe thryd &wuml;yce yhit máis me Lete ‘My purpos on thys thyng to sete: ‘I am sá fals, þat ná man may ‘Trow á worde, þat evyre I say.’ ‘Ha, ha! Frend, I leve þe þare,’ Makduff sayd, ‘I will ná mare. ‘I will ná langare karpe wyth þe, ‘Ná of þis matere have Trettè; ‘Syne þow can noþire hald, ná say ‘Ðat stedfast Trowth wald, or gud Fay. ‘He is ná man, of swylk a Kynd ‘Cummyn, bot of þe De&wuml;ylis Strynd, ‘Ðat can noþyr do nà say ‘Ðan langis to Trowth, and gud Fay. ‘God of þe De&wuml;yl sayd in á quhile, ‘As I ha&wuml;e herd red þe &Wuml;angyle, ‘He is, he sayd, a Leare fals: ‘Swylk is of hym þe Fadyre als. ‘Here now my Leve I tak at þè, ‘And gyvys wp hályly all Trettè. ‘I cownt noucht þe toþir twá ‘&Wuml;ycys þe &wuml;alu of a Strá: ‘Bot hys thryft he has sald all owte, ‘Quham falshad haldis wndyrlowte.’ Til Makduff of Fyf þe Thayne Ðis Malcolme awnsweryde þan agayne, ‘I will, I will,’ he sayd, ‘wyth þe ‘Pass, and prove how all will be. ‘I sall be lele and stedfast ay, ‘And hald till ilkè man gud fay. ‘And ná les in þe I trowe. ‘For-þi my purpos hále is nowe ‘For my Fadrys Dede to tá ‘Revengeans, and þat Traytoure sla, ‘Ðat has my Fadyre befor slayne; ‘Or I sall dey in-to þe payne.’ To þe Kyng þan als fast To tak hys Leve þan Malcolme past, Makduff wyth hym hand in hand. Ðis Kyng Edward of Ingland Ga&wuml;e hym hys Le&wuml;e, and hys gud wyll, And gret suppowale heycht þame tille, And helpe to wyn hys Herytage. On þis þai tuke þane þaire wayage. And þis Kyng þan of Ingland Bad þe Lord of Northwmbyrland, Schyr Sward, to rys wyth all hys mycht In Malcolmys helpe to wyn hys rycht. Ðan wyth þame of Northumbyrland Ðis Malcolme enteryd in Scotland, And past oure Forth, doun strawcht to Tay, [Subnote: L. 357.] The word “doun,” taken in here from the Cotton MS. instead of “syne” in the Royal, affords us a tolerable plan of the route of Malcolm and his Northumbrian allies; which, as far as Perth, seems to be the same that Agricola, and all the other invaders of Scotland after him, have pursued. After passing the Forth, probably at the first ford above Stirling, they marched down the coast of Fife, no doubt taking Kennauchy, the seat of Macduff, in their way, where they would be joined by the forces of Fife: thence they proceeded, gathering strength as they went, attended and supported (like Agricola) by the shipping, which the Northumbrians of that age had in abundance, [“valida classé,” says Sim. Dun. col. 187, describing this expedition,] and turned west along the north coast of Fife, the shipping being then stationed in the river and firth of Tay. Macbeth appears to have retreated before them to the north part of the kingdom, where, probably, his interest was strongest. D. Macpherson.] Wp þat Wattyre þe hey way To þe Brynnane to-gyddyr hále. Ðare þai bád, and tvk cownsale. Syne þai herd, þat Makbeth aye In fantown Fretis had gret Fay, And trowth had in swylk Fantasy, Be þat he trowyd stedfastly, Nevyre dyscumfyt for to be, Qwhill wyth hys Eyne he suld se Ðe Wode browcht of Brynnane To þe hill of Dwnsynane. Of þat Wode [þare] ilka man In-til hys hand a busk tuk þan: Of all hys Ost wes ná man fre, Ðan in his hand a busk bare he: And til Dwnsynane alsa fast Agayne þis Makbeth þai past, For þai thowcht wytht swylk a wyle Ðis Makbeth for til begyle. Swá for to cum in pre&wuml;atè On hym, or he suld wytryd be. Ðe flyttand Wod þai callyd ay Ðat lang tyme eftyre-hend þat day. Of þis quhen he had sene þat sycht, He wes rycht wá, and tuk þe flycht: And owre þe Mownth þai chást hym þan Til þe Wode of Lunfanan. Ðis Makduff wes þare mást felle, And on þat chás þan mást crwele. Bot a Knycht, þat in þat chás Til þis Makbeth þan nerest was, Makbeth turnyd hym agayne, And sayd, ‘Lurdane, þow prykys in &wuml;ayne, ‘For þow may noucht be he, I trowe, ‘Ðat to dede sall sla me nowe. ‘Ðat man is nowcht borne of Wyf ‘Of powere to re&wuml;e me my lyfe.’ Ðe Knycht sayd, ‘I wes nevyr borne; ‘Bot of my Modyre Wáme wes schorne. ‘Now sall þi Tresowne here tak end; ‘For to þi Fadyre I sall þé send.’ [Subnote: L. 398.] This appears to be historic truth. But Boyse thought it did not make so good a story, as that Macbeth should be slain by Macduff, whom he therefore works up to a proper temper of revenge, by previously sending Macbeth to murder his wife and children. All this has a very fine effect in romance, or upon the stage. D. Macpherson.] Ðus Makbeth slwe þai þan In-to þe Wode of Lunfanan: And his He&wuml;yd þai strak off þare; And þat wyth þame frá þine þai bare Til Kynkardyn, quhare þe Kyng Tylle þare gayne-come made bydyng. Of þat slawchter ar þire &wuml;ers In Latyne wryttyne to rehers; Rex Macabeda decem Scotie septemque fit annis, In cujus regno fertile tempus erat: Hunc in Lunfanan truncavit morte crudeli Duncani natus, nomine Malcolimus. From the non-appearance of Banquo in this ancient and authentick Chronicle, it is evident that his character, and consequently that of Fleance, were the fictions of Hector Boece, who seems to have been more ambitious of furnishing picturesque incidents for the use of playwrights, than of exhibiting sober facts on which historians could rely. The phantoms of a dream* [Subnote: *Lord Hailes, on the contrary, in a note on his Annals of Scotland, vol. i. p. 3, charges Buchanan with having softened the appearance of the Witches into a dream of the same tendency; whereas he has only brought this story back to the probability of its original, as related by Wyntown. Steevens.] , in the present instance, he has embodied, and “&lblank; gives to airy nothing “A local habitation and a name.” Nor is he solicitous only to reinforce creation. In thinning the ranks of it he is equally expert; for as often as lavish slaughters are necessary to his purpose, he has unscrupulously supplied them from his own imagination. “I laud him,” however, “I praise him,” (as Falstaff says,) for the tragedy of Macbeth, perhaps, might not have been so successfully raised out of the less dramatick materials of his predecessor Wyntown. The want of such an essential agent as Banquo, indeed, could scarce have operated more disadvantageously in respect to Shakspeare, than it certainly has in regard to the royal object of his flattery; for, henceforward, what prop can be found for the pretended ancestry of James the First? or what plea for Isaac Wake's most courtly deduction from the supposed prophecy of the Weird Sisters? “Vaticinii veritatem rerum eventus comprobavit; Banquonis enim e stirpe potentissimus Jacobus oriundus.” See Rex Platonicus, &c. 1605. Steevens.

Note return to page 587 1Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, &c.] So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And now excess of it will make me surfeit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 588 2That strain again;—it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.] Milton, in his Paradise Lost, b. iv. has very successfully introduced the same image: “&lblank; now gentle gales, “Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense “Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole “Those balmy spoils.” Steevens. “That strain again;—it had a dying fall.” Hence Pope, in his Ode on Saint Cecilia's Day: “The strains decay, “And melt away, “In a dying, dying fall.” Again, Thomson, in his Spring, v. 722, speaking of the nightingale: “&lblank; Still at every dying fall “Takes up the lamentable strain.” Holt White.

Note return to page 589 3&lblank; the sweet South,] The old copy reads—sweet sound, which Mr. Rowe changed into wind, and Mr. Pope into south. The thought might have been borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, lib. i.: “&lblank; more sweet than a gentle South-west wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields,” &c. This work was published in 1590. Steevens. I see no reason for disturbing the text of the old copy, which reads—sound. The wind, from whatever quarter, would produce a sound in breathing on the violets, or else the simile is false. Besides, sound is a better relative to the antecedent, strain. Douce.

Note return to page 590 4That breathes upon a bank of violets,] Here Shakspeare makes the wind steal odour from the violet. In his 99th Sonnet, the violet is made the thief: “The forward violet thus did I chide: “Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, “If not from my love's breath?” Malone.

Note return to page 591 5Of what validity and pitch soe'er,] Validity is here used for value. Malone. So, in King Lear: “No less in space, validity, and pleasure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 592 6That it alone is high-fantastical.] High-fantastical, means ‘fantastical to the height.’ So, in All's Well That Ends Well, vol. x. p. 474: “My high-repented blames, “Dear sovereign, pardon me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 593 7That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me.] This image evidently alludes to the story of Acteon, by which Shakspeare seems to think men cautioned against too great familiarity with forbidden beauty. Acteon, who saw Diana naked, and was torn to pieces by his hounds, represents a man, who, indulging his eyes, or his imagination, with the view of a woman that he cannot gain, has his heart torn with incessant longing. An interpretation far more elegant and natural than that of Sir Francis Bacon, who, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, supposes this story to warn us against enquiring into the secrets of princes, by showing, that those who know that which for reasons of state is to be concealed, will be detected and destroyed by their own servants. Johnson. “That instant was I turn'd into a hart; “And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, “E'er since pursue me.” Our author had here undoubtedly Daniel's fifth Sonnet in his thoughts: “Whilst youth and error led my wand'ring mind,   “And sette my thoughts in heedles waies to range, “All unawares, a goddesse chaste I finde,   “(Diana like) to worke my suddaine change. “For her no sooner had mine eye bewraid,   “But with disdaine to see mee in that place, “With fairest hand the sweet unkindest maid   “Casts water-cold disdaine upon my face: “Which turn'd my sport into a hart's despaire,   “Which still is chac'd, while I have any breath, “By mine own thoughts, sette on me by my faire;   “My thoughts, like hounds, pursue me to my death. “Those that I foster'd of mine owne accord, “Are made by her to murder thus theyr lord.” Delia and Rosamond, augmented, 16mo. 1594. The same observation has been made by an anonymous writer in the Gentleman's Magazine; but I had noticed this parallelism in my manuscript notes long before. Daniel, however, was not the original proprietor of this thought. He appears to have borrowed it from Whitney's Emblems, 1586, p. 15, where it thus appears: “Actæon, heare, [here] unhappie man, behoulde, “When in the well hee sawe Diana brighte, “With greedie lookes hee waxed over boulde, “That to a stagge hee was transformed righte;   “Whereat amas'de, hee thought to runne awaie,   “But straighte his howndes did rente hym for their praie. “By which is ment, that those whoe do pursue “Theire fancies fonde, and thinges unlawfull crave, “Like brutishe beastes appeare unto the viewe, “And shall at length Actæon's guerdon have:   “And as his howndes, so theire affections base   “Shall them devoure, and all theire deedes deface.” And Whitney himself should seem to have been indebted in this instance to a passage of the Dedication to the Earl of Sussex, prefixed by William Adlington to his translation of The Golden Ages of Apuleius, 4to. 1566: “And not only that profit ariseth to children by such fained fables, but also the vertues of men are covertly thereby commended and their vices discommended and abhorred. For by the fable of Actæon, where it is feined that when he saw Diana washing herselfe in a well, he was immediately turned into a hart, and so was slaine of his owne dogs, may be meant, that when a man casteth his eies on the vaine and soon-fading beauty of the world, consenting thereto in his minde, he seemes to be turned into a bruite beast, and so to be slaine through the inordinate desire of his own affects.” Malone.

Note return to page 594 8The element itself, till seven years heat,] Heat for heated. The air, till it shall have been warmed by seven revolutions of the sun, shall not, &c. So, in King John: “The iron of itself, though heat red hot &lblank;.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; And this report “Hath so exasperate the king &lblank;.” Malone. Again, in Chapman's version of the nineteenth Odyssey: “&lblank; When the sun was set, “And darkness rose, they slept till days fire het “Th' enlighten'd earth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 595 9&lblank; the flock of all affections &lblank;] So, in Sidney's Arcadia: “&lblank; has the flock of unspeakable virtues.” Steevens.

Note return to page 596 1O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else That live in her!] Dr. Hurd observes, that Simo, in the Andrian of Terence, reasons on his son's concern for Chrysis in the same manner: Nonnunquam conlacrumabat: placuit tum id mihi. Sic cogitabam: hic parvæ consuetudinis Causâ mortem hujus tam fert familiariter: Quid si ipse amâsset? quid mihi hic faciet patri? Steevens.

Note return to page 597 2These sovereign thrones,] We should read—“three sovereign thrones.” This is exactly in the manner of Shakspeare. So, afterwards, in this play: “Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, do give thee fivefold blazon.” Warburton.

Note return to page 598 3(Her sweet perfections,)] Liver, brain, and heart, are admitted in poetry as the residence of passions, judgement, and sentiments. These are what Shakspeare calls, “her sweet perfections,” though he has not very clearly expressed what he might design to have said. Steevens.

Note return to page 599 4&lblank; with one self king!] Thus the original copy. The editor of the second folio, who in many instances appears to have been equally ignorant of our author's language and metre, reads— self-same king; a reading which all the subsequent editors have adopted. The verse is not defective. Perfections is here used as a quadrisyllable. So, in a subsequent scene: “Methinks I feel this youth's perfections.” Self-king means self-same king; one and the same king. So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; that self-mould that fashion'd thee, “Made him a man.” As this has been controverted, I will support the reading of the genuine copy by one or two additional authorities. So, in King Lear, vol. x. p. 210: “The stars above us govern our conditions; “Else one self-mate and mate could not beget “Such different issues.” Again, King Henry V. Act I. Sc. II.: “As many fresh streams run in one self-sea.” So also, in Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1598: “At one self-instant she poor soul assaies,” &c. So also, in Gascoigne's Steele Glasse, 1576: “A pair of twinnes at one self-burden borne.” Malone. In my opinion, the reading of the second folio ought to be adopted, as it improves both the language and the metre. Malone has proved, that in Richard II. the word self is used to signify—same; but there it is a licentious expression. Once more he accuses the editor of the second folio as ignorant of Shakspeare's language and metre. It is surely rather hardy in a commentator, at the close of the 18th century, to pronounce that an editor in 1632, but 16 years after the death of Shakspeare, was totally ignorant of his language and metre; and it happens unfortunately, that in both the passages on which Mr. Malone has preferred this accusation, the second folio is clearly a correction of the first, which is the case with some other passages in this very play. M. Mason.

Note return to page 600 5Enter Viola,] Viola is the name of a lady in the fifth book of Gower de Confessione Amantis. Steevens.

Note return to page 601 6Illyria, lady.] The old copy reads—“This is Illyria, lady.” But I have omitted the two first words, which violate the metre, without improvement of the sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 7&lblank; in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium.] There is seemingly a play upon the words—Illyria and Elysium. Douce.

Note return to page 603 8&lblank; and that poor number saved with you,] We should rather read—this poor number. The old copy has those. The sailors who were saved, enter with the captain. Malone.

Note return to page 604 9A noble duke, in nature, As in his name.] I know not whether the nobility of the name is comprised in duke, or in Orsino, which is, I think, the name of a great Italian family. Johnson.

Note return to page 605 1They say, she hath abjur'd the company And sight of men. &lblank; O, that I served that lady:] The old copy reads: “They say she hath abjur'd the sight “And company of men. “&lblank; O, that I served that lady;” By the change I have made in the ordo verborum, [which was proposed by Sir Thomas Hanmer] the metre of three lines is regulated, and an anticlimax prevented. Steevens.

Note return to page 606 2And might not be delivered to the world,] I wish I might not be made public to the world, with regard to the state of my birth and fortune, till I have gained a ripe opportunity for my design. Viola seems to have formed a very deep design with very little premeditation: she is thrown by shipwreek on an unknown coast, hears that the prince is a bachelor, and resolves to supplant the lady whom he courts. Johnson. In the novel on which Shakspeare founded this play (See the Preliminary Remarks) the Duke Apolonius being driven by a tempest on the isle of Cyprus, Silla, the daughter of the governor, falls in love with him, and on his departure goes in pursuit of him. All this Shakspeare knew, and probably intended in some future scene to tell, but afterwards forgot it. If this were not the case, the impropriety censured by Dr. Johnson must be accounted for from the poet's having here, as in other places, sometimes adhered to the fable he had in view, and sometimes departed from it. Viola, in a subsequent scene, plainly alludes to her having been secretly in love with the Duke: “My father had a daughter lov'd a man, “As it might be perhaps, were I a woman, “I should your lordship. “Duke. And what's her history? “Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her love,” &c. Malone. It would have been inconsistent with Viola's delicacy to have made an open confession of her love for the Duke to the Captain. Boswell.

Note return to page 607 3&lblank; I'll serve this duke;] Viola is an excellent schemer, never at a loss; if she cannot serve the lady, she will serve the duke. Johnson.

Note return to page 608 4Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,] This plan of Viola's was not pursued, as it would have been inconsistent with the plot of the play. She was presented to the duke as a page, but not as an eunuch. M. Mason. The use of Evirati, in the same manner as at present, seems to have been well known at the time this play was written, about 1600. Burney. When the practice of castration (which originated certainly in the east) was first adopted, solely for the purpose of improving the voice, I have not been able to learn. The first regular opera, as Dr. Burney observes to me, was performed at Florence in 1600: “Till about 1635, musical dramas were only performed occasionally in the palaces of princes, and consequently before that time eunuchs could not abound. The first eunuch that was suffered to sing in the Pope's chapel, was in the year 1600.” So early, however, as 1604, eunuchs are mentioned by one of our poet's contemporaries, as excelling in singing: “Yes, I can sing, fool, if you'll bear the burthen; and I can play upon instruments scurvily, as gentlemen do. O that I had been gelded! I should then have been a fat fool for a chamber, a squeaking fool for a tavern, and a private fool for all the ladies.” The Malcontent, by J. Marston,1604. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, vol. x. p. 311: “The battle of the Centaurs, to be sung “By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.” Malone.

Note return to page 609 5That will allow me &lblank;] To allow is to approve. So, in King Lear, Act II. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; if your sweet sway “Allow obedience &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 610 6&lblank; let her except before excepted.] A ludicrous use of the formal law phrase. Farmer.

Note return to page 611 7&lblank; as tall a man &lblank;] Tall means stout, courageous. So, in Wily Beguiled: “Ay, and he is a tall fellow, and a man of his hands too.” Again: “If he do not prove himself as tall a man as he.” Steevens. See vol. viii. p. 47. Malone.

Note return to page 612 8&lblank; viol-de-gamboys,] The viol-de-gambo seems, in our author's time, to have been a very fashionable instrument. In The Return from Parnassus, 1606, it is mentioned, with its proper derivation: “Her viol-de-gambo is her best content, “For 'twixt her legs she holds her instrument.” Collins. So, in the Induction to the Mal-content, 1604: “&lblank; come sit between my legs here. “No indeed, cousin; the audience will then take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.” In the old dramatic writers, frequent mention is made of a case of viols, consisting of a viol-de-gambo, the tenor and the treble. See Sir John Hawkins's Hist. of Musick, vol. iv. p. 32, n. 338, wherein is a description of a case more properly termed a chest of viols. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 9He hath, indeed,—almost natural:] Mr. Upton purposes to regulate this passage differently: “He hath indeed, all, most natural.” Malone.

Note return to page 614 1&lblank; a coystril,] i. e. a coward cock. It may, however, be a keystril, or a bastard hawk; a kind of stone-hawk. So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; as dear “As ever coystril bought so little sport.” Steevens. A coystril is a paltry groom, one only fit to carry arms, but not to use them. So, in Holinshed's Description of England, vol. i. p. 162: “Costerels, or bearers of the armes of barons or knights.” Vol. iii. p. 248: “So that a knight with his esquire and coistrell with his two horses.” P. 272: “women lackies, and coisterels, are considered as the unwarlike attendants on an army.” So again, in p. 127, and 217, of his History of Scotland. For its etymology, see Coustille and Coustillier in Cotgrave's Dictionary. Tollet.

Note return to page 615 2&lblank; like a parish-top.] This is one of the customs now laid aside. A large top was formerly kept in every village, to be whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants may be kept warm by exercise, and out of mischief, while they could not work. The same comparison is brought forward in the Night Walker of Fletcher: “And dances like a town-top, and reels and hobbles.” Steevens. “To sleep like a town-top,” is a proverbial expression. A top is said to sleep, when it turns round with great velocity, and makes a smooth humming noise. Blackstone.

Note return to page 616 3&lblank; Castiliano vulgo;] We should read volto. In English, put on your Castilian countenance; that is, your grave, solemn looks. Warburton. “Castiliano vulgo.” I meet with the word Castilian and Castilians in several of the old comedies. It is difficult to assign any peculiar propriety to it, unless it was adopted immediately after the defeat of the Armada, and became a cant term capriciously expressive of jollity or contempt. The Host, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, calls Caius a Castilian-king Urinal; and in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, one of the characters says: “Ha! my Castilian dialogues!” In an old comedy called Look About You, 1600, it is joined with another toper's exclamation very frequent in Shakspeare: “And Rivo will he cry, and Castile too.” So again, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “Hey, Rivo Castiliano, man's a man.” Again, in The Stately Moral of the Three Lords of London, 1590: “Three Cavaliero's Castilianos here,” &c. Cotgrave, however, informs us, that Castille not only signifies the noblest part of Spain, but contention, debate, brabling, altercation. “Ils sont en Castille.” ‘There is a jarre betwixt them;’ and “prendre la Castille pour autruy:” ‘To undertake another man's quarrel.’ Steevens. Mr. Steevens has not attempted to explain vulgo, nor perhaps can the proper explanation be given, unless some incidental application of it may be found in connection with Castiliano, where the context defines its meaning. Sir Toby here, having just declared that he would persist in drinking the health of his niece, as long as there was a passage in his throat, and drink in Illyria, at the sight of Sir Andrew, demands of Maria, with a banter, Castiliano vulgo. What this was, may be probably inferred from a speech in The Shoemaker's Holiday, 4to. 1610: “&lblank; Away, firke, scower thy throat, thou shalt wash it with castilian licuor.” Henley. An attempt to define the meaning of many of this merry knight's phrases would, I suspect, be a very hopeless task. Boswell.

Note return to page 617 4Accost, sir Andrew, accost.] To accost, had a signification in our author's time that the word now seems to have lost. In the second part of The English Dictionary, by H. C. 1655, in which the reader “who is desirous of a more refined and elegant speech,” is furnished with hard words, “to draw near,” is explained thus: “To accost, appropriate, appropinquate.” See also Cotgrave's Dict. in verb. accoster. Malone. I find it in Chapman's Widow's Tears, 1612, Sign. B. 3, spelt a-coast, which may perhaps point out the original meaning of the word. See the notes on a coasting welcome in Troilus and Cressida, vol. viii. p. 383. Boswell.

Note return to page 618 5&lblank; board her,] “I hinted that board was the better reading. Mr. Steevens supposed it should then be board with her; but to the authorities which I have quoted for that reading in Jonson, Catiline, Act I. Sc. IV. we may add the following: “I'll bourd him straight; how now Cornelio?” All Fools, Act V. Sc. I. “He brings in a parasite that flowteth, and bourdeth them thus.” Nash's Lenten Stuff, 1599. “I can bourd when I see occasion.” 'Tis Pity she's a Whore, p. 38. Whalley. I am still unconvinced that board (the naval term) is not the proper reading. It is sufficiently familiar to our author in other places. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; unless he knew some strain in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. “Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it? I'll be sure to keep him above deck,” &c. &c. Steevens. So, in All's Well That Ends Well! “And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth.” Malone. Probably “board her” may mean no more than “salute her, speak to her,” &c. Sir Kenelm Digby, in his Treatise of Bodies, 1643, fo. Paris, p. 253, speaking of a blind man, says: “He would at the first aboard of a stranger, as soone as he spoke to him, frame a right apprehension of his stature, bulke, and manner of making.” Reed. To board is certainly to accost, or address. So, in the History of Celestina the Faire, 1596: “&lblank; whereat Alderine somewhat displeased for she would verie faine have knowne who he was, boorded him thus.” Ritson.

Note return to page 619 6Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand! &lblank; Mor. Now, sir, thought is free:] There is the same pleasantry in Lyly's Euphues, 1581: “None (quoth she) can judge of wit but they that have it; why then (quoth he) doest thou think me a fool? Thought is free, my Lord, quoth she.” Holt White.

Note return to page 620 7It's dry, sir.] What is the jest of dry hand, I know not any better than Sir Andrew. It may possibly mean, a hand with no money in it; or, according to the rules of physiognomy, she may intend to insinuate, that it is not a lover's hand, a moist hand being vulgarly accounted a sign of an amorous constitution. Johnson. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “But to say you had a dull eye, a sharp nose (the visible marks of a shrew); a dry hand, which is the sign of a bad liver, as he said you were, being toward a husband too; this was intolerable.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “Of all dry-fisted knights, I cannot abide that he should touch me.” Again, in Westward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1606: “Let her marry a man of a melancholy complexion, she shall not be much troubled by him. My husband has a hand as dry as his brains,” &c. The Chief Justice likewise, in The Second Part of K. Henry IV. enumerates a dry hand among the characteristicks of debility and age. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra, Charmian says: “&lblank; if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.” All these passages will serve to confirm Dr. Johnson's latter supposition. Steevens.

Note return to page 621 8I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry.] I suppose, Sir Andrew means, that he is not such a fool but that he can keep himself out of the water. Malone.

Note return to page 622 9&lblank; it will not curl by nature.] The old copy reads—“cool my nature.” The emendation was made by Theobald. Steevens.

Note return to page 623 9&lblank; and yet I will not compare with an old man.] This is intended as a satire on that common vanity of old men, in preferring their own times, and the past generation, to the present. Warburton. This stroke of pretended satire but ill accords with the character of the foolish knight. Ague-cheek, though willing enough to arrogate to himself such experience as is commonly the acquisition of age, is yet careful to exempt his person from being compared with its bodily weakness. In short, he would say with Falstaff:—“I am old in nothing but my understanding.” Steevens.

Note return to page 624 1&lblank; mistress Mall's picture?] The real name of the woman whom I suppose to have been meant by Sir Toby, was Mary Frith. The appellation by which she was generally known, was Mall Cutpurse. She was at once an hermaphrodite, a prostitute, a bawd, a bully, a thief, a receiver of stolen goods, &c. On the books of the Stationers' Company, August 1610, is entered— “A Booke called the Madde Prancks of Merry Mall of the Bankside, with her Walks in Man's Apparel, and to what Purpose. Written by John Day.” Middleton and Decker wrote a comedy, of which she is the heroine. In this, they have given a very flattering representation of her, as they observe in their preface, that “it is the excellency of a writer, to leave things better than he finds them.” The title of this piece is—The Roaring Girl, or Moll Cutpurse; as it hath been lately acted on the Fortune Stage, by the Prince his Players, 1611. The Frontispiece to it contains a full length of her in man's clothes, smoaking tobacco. Nathaniel Field, in his Amends for Ladies, (another comedy, 1618,) gives the following character of her: “&lblank; Hence lewd impudent, “I know not what to term thee; man or woman; “For nature, shaming to acknowledge thee “For either, hath produc'd thee to the world “Without a sex: Some say, that thou art woman; “Others, a man: to many thou art both “Woman and man; but I think rather neither; “Or, man, or horse, as Centaurs old were feign'd.” A life of this woman was likewise published, 12mo. in 1662, with her portrait before it in a male habit: an ape, a lion, and an eagle by her. As this extraordinary personage appears to have partook of both sexes, the curtain which Sir Toby mentions would not have been unnecessarily drawn before such a picture of her as might have been exhibited in an age, of which neither too much delicacy or decency was the characteristick. Steevens. In our author's time, I believe, curtains were frequently hung before pictures of any value. So, in Vittoria Corombona, a tragedy, by Webster, 1612: “I yet but draw the curtain;—now to your picture.” Malone. Mary Frith was born in 1584, and died in 1659. In a MS. letter in the British Museum, from John Chamberlain to Mr. Carleton, dated Feb. 11, 1611–12, the following account is given of this woman's doing penance: “This last Sunday Moll Cutpurse, a notorious baggage that used to go in man's apparel, and challenged the field of diverse gallants, was brought to the same place. [St. Paul's Cross,] where she wept bitterly, and seemed very penitent; but it is since doubted she was maudlin drunk, being discovered to have tippel'd of three quarts of sack before she came to her penance. She had the daintiest preacher or ghostly father that ever I saw in the pulpit, one Radcliffe of Brazen-Nose College in Oxford, a likelier man to have led the revels in some inn of court, than to be where he was. But the best is, he did extreme badly, and so wearied the audience, that the best part went away, and the rest tarried rather to hear Moll Cutpurse than him.” Malone. See a further account of this woman in Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, edit. 1780, vol. vi. p. 1. vol. xii. p. 398. Reed. It is for the sake of correcting a mistake of Dr. Grey, that I observe this is the character alluded to in the second of the following lines: and not Mary Carleton, the German Princess, as he has very erroneously and unaccountably imagined: “A bold virago stout and tall, “As Joan of France, or English Mall.” Hudibras, P. I. c. iii. The latter of these lines is borrowed by Swift in his Baucis and Philemon. Ritson.

Note return to page 625 2&lblank; a sink-a-pace.] i. e. a cinque-pace; the name of a dance, the measures whereof are regulated by the number five. The word occurs elsewhere in our author. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in Sir John Harrington's Anatomie of the Metamorphosed Ajax: “&lblank; the last verse disordered their mouthes, and was like a tricke of xvii in a sinkapace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 626 3&lblank; flame-coloured stock.] The old copy reads—“a damned coloured stock.” Stockings were in Shakspeare's time called stocks. So, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “Or would my silk stock should lose his gloss else.” Again, in one of Heywood's Epigrams, 1562: “Thy upper stocks, be they stuft with silke or flocks, “Never become thee like a nether paire of stocks.” The same solicitude concerning the furniture of the legs makes part of master Stephen's character in Every Man in his Humour: “I think my leg would show well in a silk hose.” Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 627 4Taurus? that's sides and heart.] Alluding to the medical astrology still preserved in almanacks, which refers the affections of particular parts of the body to the predominance of particular constellations. Johnson.

Note return to page 628 5&lblank; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul:] So, in The First Part of K. Henry IV.: “And now I will unclasp a secret book.” Steevens. Our author is fond of this metaphor. So, in Troilus and Cressida, vol. viii. p. 384: “That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, “And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts “To every ticklish reader.” Boswell.

Note return to page 629 6&lblank; a woman's part.] That is, thy proper part in a play would be a woman's. Women were then personated by boys. Johnson.

Note return to page 630 7&lblank; a barful strife!] i. e. a contest full of impediments. Steevens.

Note return to page 631 8Clown.] As this is the first Clown who makes his appearance in the plays of our author, [i. e. in Mr. Steevens's edition,] it may not be amiss from a passage in Tarleton's News out of Purgatory, to point out one of the ancient dresses appropriated to the character: “&lblank; I saw one attired in russet, with a button'd cap on his head, a bag by his side, and a strong bat in his hand; so artificially attired for a clowne, as I began to call Tarleton's woonted shape to remembrance.” Steevens. Such perhaps was the dress of the Clown in this comedy, in All's Well That Ends Well, &c. The Clown, however, in Measure for Measure, (as an anonymous writer has observed,) is only the tapster of a brothel, and probably was not so apparelled. Malone. The reader for full information on this subject must be referred to Mr. Douce's dissertation. Boswell.

Note return to page 632 9&lblank; fear no colours.] This expression frequently occurs in the old plays. So, in Ben Jonson's Sejanus. The persons conversing are Sejanus, and Eudemus the physician to the princess Livia: “Sej. You minister to a royal lady then? “Eud. She is, my lord, and fair. “Sej. That's understood “Of all their sex, who are or would be so; “And those that would be, physick soon can make 'em: “For those that are, their beauties fear no colours.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “&lblank; are you disposed, sir? &lblank; “Yes indeed: I fear no colours; change sides, Richard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 633 1&lblank; lenten answer:] A lean, or as we now call it, a dry answer. Johnson. Surely a lenten answer, rather means a short and spare one, like the commons in Lent. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 634 2&lblank; or, to be turn'd away;] The editor of the second folio omitted the word to, in which he has been followed by all subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 635 3&lblank; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.] This seems to be a pun from the nearness in the pronunciation of turning away and turning of whey. I found this observation among some papers of the late Dr. Letherland, for the perusal of which, I am happy to have an opportunity of returning my particular thanks to Mr. Glover, the author of Medea and Leonidas, by whom, before, I had been obliged only in common with the rest of the world. I am yet of opinion that this note, however specious, is wrong, the literal meaning being easy and apposite. “For turning away, let summer bear it out.” It is common for unsettled and vagrant serving-men, to grow negligent of their business towards summer; and the sense of the passage is: “If I am turned away, the advantages of the approaching summer will bear out, or support all the inconveniencies of dismission; for I shall find employment in every field, and lodging under every hedge.” Steevens.

Note return to page 636 4&lblank; if one (point) break,] Points were metal hooks, fastened to the hose or breeches, (which had then no opening or buttons,) and going into straps or eyes fixed to the doublet, and thereby keeping the hose from falling down. Blackstone. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Their points being broken,— down fell their hose.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; mingle eyes “With one that ties his points?” Steevens.

Note return to page 637 5&lblank; Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.] Hall, in his Chronicle, speaking of the death of Sir Thomas More, says: “that he knows not whether to call him a foolish wise man, or a wise foolish man.” Johnson.

Note return to page 638 6&lblank; madonna,] Ital. mistress, dame. So, La Maddona, by way of pre-eminence, the Blessed Virgin. Steevens.

Note return to page 639 7&lblank; Any thing, that's mended, is but patched:] Alluding to the patched or particoloured garment of the fool. Malone.

Note return to page 640 8&lblank; no better than the fools' zanies.] i. e. fools' baubles, which had upon the top of them the head of a fool. Douce.

Note return to page 641 9Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!] This is a stupid blunder. We should read, “with pleasing,” i. e. with eloquence, make thee a gracious and powerful speaker, for Mercury was the god of orators as well as cheats. But the first editors, who did not understand the phrase, “endue thee with pleasing,” made this foolish correction; more excusable, however, than the last editor's, who, when this emendation was pointed out to him, would make one of his own; and so, in his Oxford edition, reads, “with learning;” without troubling himself to satisfy the reader how the first editor should blunder in a word so easy to be understood as learning, though they well might in the word pleasing, as it is used in this place. Warburton. I think the present reading more humorous: “May Mercury teach thee to lie, since thou liest in favour of fools!” Johnson.

Note return to page 642 1&lblank; a most weak pia mater.] The pia mater is the membrane that immediately covers the substance of the brain. So, in Philemon Holland's Translation of Pliny's Natural History, book xxiv. chap. 8: “&lblank; the fine pellicle called pia mater, which lappeth and enfoldeth the braine.” Edit. 1601, p. 185. Steevens.

Note return to page 643 2'Tis a gentleman here &lblank;] He had before said it was a gentleman. He was asked, what gentleman? and he makes this reply; which, it is plain, is corrupt, and should be read thus: “'Tis a gentleman-heir.” i. e. some lady's eldest son just come out of the nursery; for this was the appearance Viola made in men's clothes. See the character Malvolio draws of him presently after. Warburton. Can any thing be plainer than that Sir Toby was going to describe the gentleman, but was interrupted by the effects of his pickle-herring? I would print it as an imperfect sentence. Mr. Edwards has the same observation. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's interpretation may be right: yet Dr. Warburton's reading is not so strange, as it has been represented. In Broome's Jovial Crew, Scentwell says to the gypsies: “We must find a young gentlewoman-heir among you.” Farmer.

Note return to page 644 3&lblank; above-heat &lblank;] i. e. above the state of being warm in a proper degree. Steevens.

Note return to page 645 4&lblank; stand at your door like a sheriff's post,] It was the custom for that officer to have large posts set up at his door, as an indication of his office: the original of which was, that the king's proclamations, and other public acts, might be affixed thereon, by way of publication. So, Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “&lblank; put off “To the Lord Chancellor's tomb, or the Shrives posts.” So again, in the old play called Lingua: “Knows he how to become a scarlet gown? hath he a pair of fresh posts at his door?” Warburton. Dr. Letherland was of opinion, that “by this post is meant a post to mount a horse from, a horse-block, which, by the custom of the city, is still placed at the sheriff's door.” In the Contention for Honour and Riches, a masque by Shirley, 1633, one of the competitors swears: “By the Shrive's post,” &c. Again, in A Woman Never Vex'd, com. by Rowley, 1632: “If e'er I live to see thee sheriff of London, “I'll gild thy painted posts cum privilegio.” Steevens.

Note return to page 646 5&lblank; or a codling when 'tis almost an apple:] A codling anciently meant an immature apple. So, in Ben Jonson's Alchemist: “Who is it, Dol? “A fine young quodling.” The fruit at present styled a codling, was unknown to our gardens in the time of Shakspeare. Steevens. Codling (a mere diminutive of cod, Mr. Gifford remarks in a note on Jonson's Alchemist) is not necessarily restricted to this or that—it means an involucrum or kell, and was used by our old writers for that early state of vegetation, when the fruit, after shaking off the blossom, began to assume a globular and determinate form.” Boswell.

Note return to page 647 6&lblank; 'tis with him e'en standing water,] The old copy has—in. The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. In the first folio e'en and in are very frequently confounded. Malone.

Note return to page 648 7&lblank; I am very comptible,] Comptible for ready to call to account. Warburton. Viola seems to mean just the contrary. She begs she may not be treated with scorn, because she is very submissive, even to lighter marks of reprehension. Steevens.

Note return to page 649 8&lblank; If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief:] The sense evidently requires that we should read: “If you be mad, be gone,” &c. For the words “be mad,” in the first part of the sentence, are opposed to reason in the second. M. Mason.

Note return to page 650 9&lblank; skipping &lblank;] Wild, frolick, mad. Johnson. So, in K. Henry IV. Part I.: “The skipping king, he ambled up and down,” &c. Steevens. Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; take pain “To allay, with some cold drops of modesty, “Thy skipping spirit.” Malone.

Note return to page 651 1&lblank; I am to hull here &lblank;] To hull means to drive to and fro upon the water, without sails or rudder. So, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 9th Book of Pliny's Natural History, 1601, p. 239: “&lblank; fell to be drowsie and sleepie, and hulled to and fro with the waves, as if it had beene halfe dead.” Again, in The Noble Soldier, 1634: “That all these mischiefs hull with flagging sail.” Steevens.

Note return to page 652 2&lblank; some mollification for your giant,] Ladies, in romance, are guarded by giants, who repel all improper or troublesome advances. Viola, seeing the waiting-maid so eager to oppose her message, intreats Olivia to pacify her giant. Johnson. Viola likewise alludes to the diminutive size of Maria, who is called on subsequent occasions, “little villain, youngest wren of nine,” &c. Steevens. So, Falstaff to his page, in K. Henry IV. Part II. Act I.: “Sirrah, you giant,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 653 3Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger.] These words (which in the old copy are part of Viola's last speech) must be divided between the two speakers. Viola growing troublesome, Olivia would dismiss her, and therefore cuts her short with this command, “Tell me your mind.” The other, taking advantage of the ambiguity of the word mind, which signifies either business or inclination, replies as if she had used it in the latter sense, “I am a messenger.” Warburton. As a messenger, she was not to speak her own mind, but that of her employer. M. Mason.

Note return to page 654 4&lblank; Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: Is't not well done?] This is nonsense. The change of was to wear, I think, clears all up, and gives the expression an air of gallantry. Viola presses to see Olivia's face: The other at length pulls off her veil, and says: “We will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture.” I wear this complexion to-day, I may wear another tomorrow; jocularly intimating, that she painted. The other, vext at the jest, says, “Excellently done, if God did all.” Perhaps, it may be true, what you say in jest; otherwise 'tis an excellent face. “'Tis in grain,” &c. replies Olivia. Warburton. I am not satisfied with this emendation. We may read—“Such a one I was. This presence, is't not well done?” i. e. this mien, is it not happily represented? Similar phraseology occurs in Othello: “This fortification, shall we see it? Steevens. This passage is nonsense as it stands, and necessarily requires some amendment. That proposed by Warburton would make sense of it; but then the allusion to a picture would be dropped, which began in the preceding part of the speech, and is carried on through those that follow. If we read presents, instead of present, this allusion will be preserved, and the meaning will be clear. I have no doubt but the line should run thus: “Look you, sir, such as once I was, this presents.” Presents means represents. So, Hamlet calls the pictures he shews his mother: “The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.” She had said before—“But we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture;” and concludes with asking him, if it was well done. The same idea occurs in Troilus and Cressida, where Pandarus, taking off her veil, says: “Come draw this curtain, and let us see your picture.” M. Mason. I suspect, the author intended that Olivia should again cover her face with her veil, before she speaks these words. Malone.

Note return to page 655 5'Tis beauty truly blent,] i. e. blended, mixed together. Blent is the ancient participle of the verb to blend. So, in A Looking Glass of London and England, 1617: “&lblank; the beautiful encrease “Is wholly blent.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. 6: “&lblank; for having blent “My name with guile, and traiterous intent.” Steevens.

Note return to page 656 6If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy.] How much more elegantly is this thought expressed by Shakspeare, than by Beaumont and Fletcher in their Philaster: “I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth, “Without an heir.” Shakspeare has copied himself in his 11th Sonnet: “She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby “Thou should'st print more, nor let that copy die.” Again, in the 3d Sonnet: “Die single, and thine image dies with thee.” Steevens. Again, in his 9th Sonnet: “Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die, “The world will hail thee like a makeless wife; “The world will be thy widow, and still weep “That thou no form of thee hast left behind.” Again, in the 13th Sonnet: “O that you were yourself! but, love, you are “No longer yours than you yourself here live: “Against this coming end you should prepare, “And your sweet semblance to some other give.” Malone.

Note return to page 657 7&lblank; to 'praise me?] i. e. to appraise, or appretiate me. The foregoing words, schedules, and inventoried, shew, I think, that this is the meaning. So again, in Cymbeline: “I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration; though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items.” Malone. Malone's conjecture is ingenious, and I should have thought it the true reading, if the foregoing words, schedule and inventoried, had been used by Viola: but as it is Olivia herself who makes use of them, I believe the old reading is right, though Steevens has adopted that of Malone. Viola has extolled her beauty so highly, that Olivia asks, whether she was sent there on purpose to praise her. M. Mason.

Note return to page 658 8&lblank; O, such love Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty!] Though your beauty were unparalleled, it would not be more than a just recompence for such love as my master's. Malone.

Note return to page 659 9&lblank; with fertile tears,] With, which is not in the old copy, was added by Mr. Pope to supply the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 660 1With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.] This line is worthy of Dryden's Almanzor, and, if not said in mockery of amorous hyperboles, might be regarded as a ridicule on a passage in Chapman's translation of the first book of Homer, 1598: “Jove thunder'd out a sigh;” Or, on another in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592: “The winds of my deep sighes “That thunder still for noughts,” &c. Steevens. So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “O, that forc'd thunder from his heart did fly!” Malone.

Note return to page 661 2In voices well divulg'd,] Well spoken of by the world. Malone. So, in Timon: “Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world “Voic'd so regardfully?” Steevens.

Note return to page 662 3Write loyal cantons of contemned love,] The old copy has cantons; which Mr. Capell, who appears to have been entirely unacquainted with our ancient language, has changed into canzons. —There is no need of alteration. Canton was used for canto in our author's time. So, in The London Prodigal, a comedy, 1605: “What-do-you-call-him has it there in his third canton.” Again, in Heywood's Preface to Britaynes Troy, 1609: “&lblank; in the judicial perusal of these few cantons,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 663 4Holla your name to the reverberate hills,] I have corrected, reverberant. Theobald. Mr. Upton well observes, that Shakspeare frequently uses the adjective passive, actively. Theobald's emendation is therefore unnecessary. B. Jonson, in one of his masques at court, says: “&lblank; which skill, Pythagoras “First taught to men by a reverberate glass.” Steevens. Johnson, in his Dictionary, adopted Theobald's correction. But the following line from T. Heywood's Troja Britannica, 1609, canto xi. st. 9, shows that the original text should be preserved: “Give shrill reverberat echoes and rebounds.” Holt White.

Note return to page 664 4&lblank; the babbling gossip of the air &lblank;] A most beautiful expression for an echo. Douce.

Note return to page 665 5I am no fee'd post,] Post, in our author's time, signified a messenger. Malone.

Note return to page 666 6&lblank; soft! soft! Unless the master were the man.] Unless the dignity of the master were added to the merit of the servant, I shall go too far, and disgrace myself. Let me stop in time. Malone. Perhaps she means to check herself by observing,—‘This is unbecoming forwardness on my part, unless I were as much in love with the master as I am with the man.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 667 7The county's man:] County and count in old language were synonymous. So, in The Merchant of Venice, vol. v. p. 20: “Then is there the county Palatine.” So, the county Paris, Romeo and Juliet, passim. Malone.

Note return to page 668 8&lblank; to flatter with his lord,] This was the phraseology of the time. So, in King Richard II.: “Shall dying men flatter with those that live.” Many more instances might be added. Malone.

Note return to page 669 9Mine eye, &c.] I believe the meaning is; I am not mistress of my own actions; I am afraid that my eyes betray me, and flatter the youth without my consent, with discoveries of love. Johnson. I think the meaning is, “I fear that my eyes will seduce my understanding; that I am indulging a passion for this beautiful youth, which my reason cannot approve.” Malone. Johnson's explanation of this passage is evidently wrong. It would be strange indeed if Olivia should say, that she feared her eyes would betray her passion, and flatter the youth, without her consent, with a discovery of her love, after she had actually sent him a ring, which must have discovered her passion more strongly, and was sent for that very purpose.—The true meaning appears to me to be thus: “She fears that her eyes had formed so flattering an idea of Cesario, that she should not have strength of mind sufficient to resist the impression.” She had just before said: “Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, “With an invisible and subtle stealth, “To creep in at mine eyes.” Which confirms my explanation of this passage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 670 1&lblank; Ourselves we do not owe;] i. e. we are not our own masters. We cannot govern ourselves. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the disposition that I owe;” i. e. own, possess. Steevens.

Note return to page 671 2&lblank; to express myself.] That is, to reveal myself. Johnson.

Note return to page 672 3&lblank; Messaline,] Sir Thomas Hanmer very judiciously offers to read Metelin, an island in the Archipelago; but Shakspeare knew little of geography, and was not at all solicitous about orthographical nicety. The same mistake occurs in the concluding scene of the play: “Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father.” Steevens.

Note return to page 673 4&lblank; the breach of the sea,] i. e. what we now call the breaking of the sea. In Pericles it is styled—“the rupture of the sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 674 5&lblank; with such estimable wonder,] These words Dr. Warburton calls “an interpolation of the players;” but what did the players gain by it? they may sometimes be guilty of a joke without the concurrence of the poet, but they never lengthen a speech only to make it longer. Shakspeare often confounds the active and passive adjectives. Estimable wonder is esteeming wonder, or wonder and esteem. The meaning is, that he could not venture to think so highly as others of his sister. Johnson. Thus Milton uses unexpressive notes, for unexpressible, in his Hymn on The Nativity. Malone.

Note return to page 675 6&lblank; she is drowned already, sir, with salt water,] There is a resemblance between this and another false thought in Hamlet: “Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, “And therefore I forbid my tears.” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 7I am yet so near the manners of my mother,] So, in King Henry V. Act IV. Sc. VI.: “And all my mother came into my eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 677 8Receive it so.] One of the modern editors reads, with some probability, receive it, sir. But the present reading is sufficiently intelligible. Malone. “Receive it so” is, understand it so. Thus, in the third Act of this play, Olivia says to Viola: “To one of your receiving “Enough is shewn &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 678 9She took the ring of me—I'll none of it.] This passage has been hitherto thus pointed: “She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.” which renders it, as it appears to me, quite unintelligible. The punctuation now adopted: “She took the ring of me!—I'll none of it.” was suggested by an ingenious friend, and certainly renders the line less exceptionable: yet I cannot but think there is some corruption in the text. Had our author intended such a mode of speech, he would probably have written: “She took a ring of me!—I'll none of it.” Malvolio's answer seems to intimate that Viola had said she had not given any ring. We ought, therefore, perhaps to read: “She took no ring of me!—I'll none of it.” So afterwards: “I left no ring with her.” Viola expressly denies her having given Olivia any ring. How then can she assert, as she is made to do by the old regulation of the passage, that the lady had received one from her? Malone. I do not perceive the necessity of the change recommended. Viola finding the ring sent after her, accompanied by a fiction, is prepared to meet it with another. This lady, as Dr. Johnson has observed, is an excellent schemer; she is never at a loss, or taken unprepared. Steevens.

Note return to page 679 1That, sure,] Sure, which is wanting in the old copy, was added, to complete the metre, by the editor of the second folio. Sure, in the present instance, is not very likely to have been the word omitted in the first copy, being found in the next line but one. Malone.

Note return to page 680 2&lblank; her eyes had lost her tongue,] We say a man loses his company when they go one way and he goes another. So, Olivia's tongue lost her eyes; her tongue was talking of the duke, and her eyes gazing on his messenger. Johnson. It rather means that the very fixed and eager view she took of Viola, perverted the use of her tongue, and made her talk distractedly. This construction of the verb—lost, is also much in Shakspeare's manner. Douce.

Note return to page 681 3&lblank; the pregnant enemy &lblank;] Is, I believe, the dexterous fiend, or enemy of mankind. Johnson. Pregnant is certainly dexterous, or ready. So, in Hamlet: “How pregnant sometimes his replies are!” Steevens.

Note return to page 682 4How easy is it, for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!] This is obscure. The meaning is, “how easy is disguise to women!” how easily does their own falsehood, contained in their waxen changeable hearts, enable them to assume deceitful appearances! The two next lines are perhaps transposed, and should be read thus: “For such as we are made, if such we be, “Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we.” Johnson. I am not certain that this explanation is just. Viola has been condemning those who disguise themselves, because Olivia had fallen in love with a specious appearance. How easy is it, she adds, for those who are at once proper (i. e. fair in their appearance) and false (i. e. deceitful) to make an impression on the easy hearts of women?—The proper-false is certainly a less elegant expression than the fair deceiver, but seems to mean the same thing. A proper man, was the ancient phrase for a handsome man: “This Ludovico is a proper man.” Othello. To “set their forms,” means, ‘to plant their images,’ i. e. to make an impression on their easy minds. Mr. Tyrwhitt concurs with me in this interpretation. Steevens. This passage, according to Johnson's explanation of it, is so severe a satire upon women, that it is unnatural to suppose that Shakspeare should put it in the mouth of one of the sex, especially a young one. Nor do I think that the words can possibly express the sense which he contends for. Steevens's explanation appears to be the true one. The word proper certainly means handsome; and Viola's reflection how easy it was for those who are handsome and deceitful to make an impression on the waxen hearts of women, is a natural sentiment for a girl to utter who was herself in love. An expression similar to that of proper-false, occurs afterwards in this very play, where Antonio says: “Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous-evil “Are empty trunks o'er flourish'd by the devil.” M. Mason. Mr. Steevens's explanation is undoubtedly the true one. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; men have marble, women waxen minds, “And therefore are they form'd as marble will; “The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange kinds “Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill: “Then call them not the authors of their ill &lblank;.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Nay, call us ten times frail, “For we are soft as our complexions are, “And credulous to false prints.” Malone.

Note return to page 683 5&lblank; our frailty &lblank;] The old copy reads—O frailty. Steevens. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone. Hans Carvel's wife argued in a similar manner: “That if weak women went astray, “Their stars were more in fault than they.” Boswell.

Note return to page 684 6For, such as we are made of, such we be.] The old copy reads—“made if.” Mr. Tyrwhitt observes, that “instead of transposing these lines according to Dr. Johnson's conjecture,” he is inclined to read the latter as I have printed it. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; we are such stuff “As dreams are made of.” Steevens. I have no doubt that Mr. Tyrwhitt's conjecture is right. Of and if are frequently confounded in the old copies. Thus in the folio 1632, King John, p. 6: “Lord of our presence, Angiers, and if you.” [instead of—of you.] Again, of is printed instead of if, Merchant of Venice, 1623: “Mine own I would say, but, of mine, then yours.” In As You Like It, we have a line constructed nearly like the present, as now corrected: “Who such a one as she, such is her neighbour.” Malone.

Note return to page 685 7How will this fadge?] To fadge, is to suit, to fit, to go with. So, in Decker's Comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “I shall never fadge with the humour, because I cannot lie.” So, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “Ill have thy advice, and if it fadge, thou shalt eat &lblank;.” “But how will it fadge in the end &lblank;?” “All this fadges well &lblank;.” “We are about a matter of legerdemain, how will this fadge?” “&lblank; in good time it fadges.” Steevens. “Andar a vanga, to fadge or prosper.” Florio's Dict. So, in the Beggar's Ape: “For whoso beares simplicities true badge, “To live in Prince's courts doe seldom fadge.” It is used so lately as by Richard Johnson, the antagonist of Bentley. Boswell.

Note return to page 686 8&lblank; diluculo surgere,] Saluberrimum est. This adage our author found in Lilly's Grammar, p. 51. Malone.

Note return to page 687 9&lblank; Do not our lives consist of the four elements?] So, in our author's 45th Sonnet: “My life being made of four, with two alone “Sinks down to death,” &c. So also, in King Henry V.: “He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him.” Malone. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “I am fire and air; my other elements “I give to baser life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 1&lblank; I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.] A ridicule on the medical theory of that time, which supposed health to consist in the just temperament and balance of the four elements in the human frame. Warburton. Homer, Iliad ix. concurs in opinion with Sir Andrew: “&lblank; strength consists in spirits and in blood, “And those are ow'd to generous wine and food.” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 2&lblank; a stoop &lblank;] A stoop, cadus à stoppa, Belgis, stoop. Ray's Proverbs, p. 111. In Hexham's Low Dutch Dictionary, 1660, a gallon is explained by een kanne van twee stoopen. A stoop, however, seems to have been something more than half a gallon. In A Catalogue of the Rarities in the Anatomy Hall at Leyden, printed there, 4to. 1701, is “The bladder of a man containing four stoop (which is something above two English gallons) of water.” Reed.

Note return to page 690 3&lblank; Did you never see the picture of we three?] An allusion to an old print, sometimes pasted on the wall of a country ale-house, representing two, but under which the spectator reads— “We three are asses.” I believe Shakspeare had in his thoughts a common sign, in which two wooden heads are exhibited, with this inscription under it; “We three loggerheads be.” The spectator or reader is supposed to make the third. The Clown means to insinuate, that Sir Toby and Sir Andrew had as good a title to the name of fool as himself. Malone.

Note return to page 691 4&lblank; By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.] Breast, voice. Breath has been here proposed: but many instances may be brought to justify the old reading beyond a doubt. In the statutes of Stoke-College, founded by Archbishop Parker, 1535, Strype's Parker, p. 9: “Which said queristers, after their breasts are changed,” &c. that is, after their voices are broken. In Fiddes's Life of Wolsey, Append. p. 128: “Singing-men well-breasted.” In Tusser's Husbandrie, p. 155, edit. P. Short: “The better brest, the lesser rest, “To serve the queer now there now heere.” Tusser, in this piece, called The Author's Life, tells us, that he was a choir-boy in the collegiate chapel of Wallingford Castle; and that, on account of the excellence of his voice, he was successively removed to various choirs. T. Warton. B. Jonson uses the word breast in the same manner, in his Masque of Gypsies, p. 623, edit. 1692. In an old play called The Four P's, written by J. Heywood, 1569, is this passage: “Poticary. I pray you, tell me, can you sing? “Pedler. Sir, I have some sight in singing. “Poticary. But is your breast any thing sweet? “Pedler. Whatever my breast be, my voice is meet.” I suppose this cant term to have been current among the musicians of the age. All professions have in some degree their jargon; and the remoter they are from liberal science, and the less consequential to the general interests of life, the more they strive to hide themselves behind affected terms and barbarous phraseology. Steevens.

Note return to page 692 5I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; Hadst it?] The old copy reads—lemon. But the Clown was neither pantler, nor butler. The poet's word was certainly mistaken by the ignorance of the printer. I have restored leman, i. e. I sent thee sixpence to spend on thy mistress. Theobald. I receive Theobald's emendation, because it throws a light on the obscurity of the following speech. Leman is frequently used by the ancient writers, and Spenser in particular. So again, in The Noble Soldier, 1634: “Fright him as he's embracing his new leman.” The money was given him for his leman, i. e. his mistress. We have still “Leman-street,” in Goodman's fields. He says he did impeticoat the gratuity, i. e. he gave it to his petticoat companion; for (says he) “Malvolio's nose is no whipstock,” i. e. Malvolio may smell out our connection, but his suspicion will not prove the instrument of our punishment. “My mistress has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses,” i. e. my mistress is handsome, but the houses kept by officers of justice are no places to make merry and entertain her at. Such may be the meaning of this whimsical speech. A whipstock is, I believe, the handle of a whip, round which a strap of leather is usually twisted, and is sometimes put for the whip itself. So, in Albumazar, 1615: “&lblank; out, Carter, “Hence dirty whipstock &lblank;.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “&lblank; the coach-man sit! “His duty is before you to stand, “Having a lusty whipstock in his hand.” This word occurs again in Jeronymo, 1605: “Bought you a whistle and a whipstock too.” Steevens.

Note return to page 693 6I did impeticos thy gratillity;] This, Sir T. Hanmer tells us, is the same with impocket thy gratuity. He is undoubtedly right; but we must read—“I did impeticoat thy gratuity.” The fools were kept in long coats, to which the allusion is made. There is yet much in this dialogue which I do not understand. Johnson. I cannot think it was meant to be understood. The greater part of this scene is mere gracious fooling. Boswell. Figure 12, in the plate of the Morris-dancers, at the end of K. Henry IV. Part I. sufficiently proves that petticoats were not always a part of the dress of fools or jesters, though they were of ideots, for a reason which I avoid to offer. Steevens. It is a very gross mistake to imagine that this character was habited like an ideot. Neither he nor Touchstone, though they wear a particoloured dress, has either coxcomb or bauble, nor is by any means to be confounded with the Fool in King Lear, nor even, I think, with the one in All's Well That Ends Well.—A Dissertation on the Fools of Shakspeare, a character he has most judiciously varied and discriminated, would be a valuable addition to the notes on his plays. Ritson. For that valuable addition we are now indebted to Mr. Douce. Boswell. The old copy reads—“I did impeticos thy gratillity.” The meaning, I think, is, “I did impetticoat or impocket thy gratuity;” but the reading of the old copy should not, in my opinion, be here disturbed. The Clown uses the same kind of fantastick language elsewhere in this scene. Neither Pigrogromitus, nor the Vapians would object to it. Malone.

Note return to page 694 7&lblank; of good life?] I do not suppose that by a song of good life, the Clown means a song of a moral turn; though Sir Andrew answers to it in that signification. “Good life,” I believe, is “harmless mirth and jollity.” It may be a Gallicism: we call a jolly fellow a bon vivant. Steevens. From the opposition of the words in the Clown's question, I incline to think that “good life” is here used in its usual acceptation. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, these words are used for a virtuous character: “Defend your reputation, or farewell to your good life for ever.” Malone.

Note return to page 695 8In delay there lies no plenty;] No man will ever be worth much, who delays the advantages offered by the present hour, in hopes that the future will offer more. So, in K. Richard III. Act IV. Sc. III.: “Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary.” Again, in K. Henry VI. Part I.: “Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.” Again, in a Scots proverb: “After a delay comes a let.” See Kelly's Collection, p. 52. Steevens.

Note return to page 696 9Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,] This line is obscure; we might read: “Come, a kiss then, sweet and twenty.” Yet I know not whether the present reading be not right, for in some counties sweet and twenty, whatever be the meaning, is a phrase of endearment. Johnson. So, in Wit of a Woman, 1604: “Sweet and twenty: all sweet and sweet.” Again, in The Life and Death of the Merry Devil of Edmonton, &c. by T. B. 1631: “&lblank; his little wanton wagtailes, his sweet and twenties, his pretty pinckineyd pigsnies, &c. as he himself used commonly to call them.” Steevens. Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Good even, and twenty.” Malone.

Note return to page 697 1&lblank; make the welkin dance &lblank;] That is, drink till the sky seems to turn round. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act II. Sc. VII.: “Cup us till the world go round.” Again, Mr. Pope: “Ridotta sips and dances, till she see “The doubling lustres dance as fast as she.” Steevens.

Note return to page 698 2&lblank; draw three souls out of one weaver?] Our author represents weavers as much given to harmony in his time. I have shewn the cause of it elsewhere. The expression of the power of musick is familiar with our author. Much Ado About Nothing: “Now is his soul ravished. Is it not strange that sheep's-guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?”—Why he says, three souls, is because he is speaking of a catch of three parts; and the peripatetic philosophy, then in vogue, very liberally gave every man three souls. The vegetative or plastic, the animal, and the rational. To this, too, Jonson alludes, in his Poetaster: “What, will I turn shark upon my friends? or my friends' friends? I scorn it with my three souls.” By the mention of these three, therefore, we may suppose it was Shakspeare's purpose, to hint to us those surprizing effects of musick, which the ancients speak of, when they tell us of Amphion, who moved stones and trees; Orpheus and Arion, who tamed savage beasts; and Timotheus, who governed, as he pleased, the passions of his human auditors. So noble an observation has our author conveyed in the ribaldry of this buffoon character. Warburton. In a popular book of the time, Carew's translation of Huarte's Trial of Wits, 1594, there is a curious chapter concerning the three souls, “vegetative, sensitive, and reasonable.” Farmer. I doubt whether our author intended any allusion to this division of souls. In The Tempest, we have—“trebles thee o'er;” i. e. makes thee thrice as great as thou wert before. In the same manner, I believe, he here only means to describe Sir Toby's catch as so harmonious, that it would hale the soul out of a weaver (the warmest lover of a song) thrice over: or in other words, give him thrice more delight than it would give another man. Dr. Warburton's supposition that there is an allusion to the catch being in three parts, appears to me one of his unfounded refinements. Malone.

Note return to page 699 3[They sing a catch.] This catch is lost. Johnson. A catch is a species of vocal harmony to be sung by three or more persons; and is so contrived, that though each sings precisely the same notes as his fellows, yet by beginning at stated periods of time from each other, there results from the performance a harmony of as many parts as there are singers. Compositions of this kind are, in strictness, called Canons in the unison; and as properly, Catches, when the words in the different parts are made to catch or answer each other. One of the most remarkable examples of a true catch is that of Purcel, Let's live good honest lives, in which, immediately after one person has uttered these words, “What need we fear the Pope?” another in the course of his singing fills up a rest which the first makes, with the words “The devil.” The catch above-mentioned to be sung by Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and the Clown, from the hints given of it, appears to be so contrived as that each of the singers calls the other knave in turn; and for this the Clown means to apologize to the knight, when he says, that he shall be constrained to call him knave. I have here subjoined the very catch, with the musical notes to which it was sung in the time of Shakspeare, and at the original performance of this comedy: The evidence of its authenticity is as follows: There is extant a book entitled, “Pammelia, Musickes Miscellanie, or mixed Varietie of pleasant Roundelays and delightful Catches of 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Parts in one.” Of this book there are at least two editions, the second printed in 1618. In 1609, a second part of this work was published with the title of Deuteromelia, and in this book is contained the catch above given. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 700 4&lblank; a Cataian,] It is in vain to seek the precise meaning of this term of reproach. I have already attempted to explain it in a note on The Merry Wives of Windsor. I find it used again in Love and Honour, by Sir W. D'Avenant, 1649: “Hang him, bold Cataian.” Steevens.

Note return to page 701 5&lblank; Peg-a-Ramsey,] In Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy, is a very obscene old song, entitled “Peg-a-Ramsey.” See also Ward's Lives of the Professors of Gresham College, p. 207. Percy. Nash mentions “Peg of Ramsey” among several other ballads, viz. Rogero, Basilino, Turkelony, All the Flowers of the Broom, Pepper is Black, Green Sleeves, Peggie Ramsie. It appears from the same author, that it was likewise a dance performed to the music of a song of that name. Steevens. Peggy Ramsey is the name of some old song; the following is the tune to it: Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 702 6Three merry men, &c.] Three merry men be we, is likewise a fragment of some old song, which I find repeated in Westward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607, and by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle: “Three merry men “And three merry men “And three merry men be we.” Again, in The Bloody Brother, of the same authors: “Three merry boys, and three merry boys, “And three merry boys are we, “As ever did sing, three parts in a string, “All under the triple tree.” Again, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “And three merry men, and three merry men, “And three merry men be we a.” Steevens. This is a conclusion common to many old songs. One of the most humorous that I can recollect, is the following: “The wise men were but seaven, nor more shall be for me; “The muses were but nine, the worthies three times three; “And three merry boyes, and three merry boyes, and three merry boyes are wee.. “The vertues they were seven, and three the greater bee; “The Cæsars they were twelve, and the fatal sisters three. “And three merry girles, and three merry girles, and three merry girles are wee.” There are ale-houses in some of the villages in this kingdom, that have the sign of The Three Merry Boys; there was one at Highgate in my memory. Sir J. Hawkins. Three merry men be we, may, perhaps, have been taken originally from the song of Robin Hood and The Tanner. Old Ballads, vol. i. p. 89: “Then Robin Hood took them by the hands,   “With a hey,” &c. “And danced about the oak-tree; “For three merry men, and three merry men,   “And three merry men be we.” Tyrwhitt. But perhaps the following, in The Old Wiues Tale, by George Peele, 1595, may be the original. Anticke, one of the characters, says: “&lblank; let us rehearse the old proverb, “Three merrie men, and three merrie men,   “And three merrie men be wee; “I in the wood, and thou on the ground,   “And Jacke sleepes in the tree.” Steevens. See An Antidote Against Melancholy, Made Up in Pills, Compounded of Witty Ballads, Jovial Songs, and Merry Catches, 4to. 1661, p. 69. Reed.

Note return to page 703 7Tilley-valley, lady!] Tilley-valley was an interjection of contempt, which Sir Thomas More's lady is recorded to have had very often in her mouth. Johnson. Tilly-valley is used as an interjection of contempt in the old play of Sir John Oldcastle; and is likewise a character in a comedy intituled Lady Alimony. Tillie-vallie may be a corruption of the Roman word (without a precise meaning, but indicative of contempt) Titivilitium. See the Casina of Plautus, 2. 5. 39. Steevens. Tilly-valley is a hunting phrase borrowed from the French. In the Venerie de Jacques Fouilloux, 1585, 4to. fo. 12, the following cry is mentioned: “Ty a hillaut et vallecy;” and is set to music in pp. 49 and 50. Douce.

Note return to page 704 8There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!] The ballad of Susanna, from whence this line [“There dwelt,” &c.] is taken, was licensed by T. Colwell, in 1562, under the title of The goodly and constant Wyfe Susanna. There is likewise a play on this subject. T. Warton. “There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady.” Maria's use of the word lady brings the ballad to Sir Toby's remembrance: Lady, lady, is the burthen, and should be printed as such. My very ingenious friend, Dr. Percy, has given a stanza of it in his Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. p. 204. Just the same may be said, where Mercutio applies it, in Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV. Farmer. I found what I once supposed to be a part of this song, in All's Lost by Lust, a tragedy by William Rowley, 1633: “There was a nobleman of Spain, lady, lady, “That went abroad, and came not again “To his poor lady. “Oh, cruel age, when one brother, lady, lady, “Shall scorn to look upon another “Of his poor lady.” Steevens. This song, or, at least one with the same burthen, is alluded to in Ben Jonson's Magnetic Lady, vol. iv. p. 449: “Com. As true it is, lady, lady i' the song.” Tyrwhitt. The oldest song that I have seen with this burthen is in the old Morality, entitled The Trial of Treasure, 4to. 1567. The following is one of the stanzas: “Helene may not compared be,   “Nor Cressida that was so bright, “These cannot stain the shine of thee,   “Nor yet Minerva of great might; “Thou passest Venus far away,     “Lady, lady; “Love thee I will, both night and day,     “My dere lady.” Malone.

Note return to page 705 9&lblank; coziers' catches &lblank;] A cozier is a tailor, from coudre to sew, part. cousu, Fr. Johnson. Our author has again alluded to their love of vocal harmony in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Lady. I will not sing. “Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher.” A cozier, it appears from Minsheu, signified a botcher, or mender of old clothes, and also a cobler.—Here it means the former. Malone. Minshieu tells us, that cozier is a cobler or sowter: and, in Northamptonshire, the waxed thread which a cobler uses in mending shoes, we call a codger's end. Whalley. A cozier's end is still used in Devonshire for a cobler's end. Henley.

Note return to page 706 1Sneck up!] The modern editors seem to have regarded this unintelligible phrase as the designation of a hiccup. It is however used in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, as it should seem, on another occasion: “Let thy father go sneck up, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again while he lives.” Again, in the same play: “Give him his money, George, and let him go sneck up.” Again, in Wily Beguiled: “An if my mistress would be ruled by him, Sophos might go snick up.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “&lblank; if they be not, let them go snick up.” Again, in Heywood's Fair Maid of the West, 1631, Blurt Master Constable, no date, &c. Perhaps in the two former of these instances, the words may be corrupted. In King Henry IV. Part I. Falstaff says: “The Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-cup,” i. e. one who takes his glass in a sneaking manner. I think we might safely read sneak-cup, at least, in Sir Toby's reply to Malvolio. I should not however omit to mention that sneck the door is a north country expression for latch the door. Steevens. Of this cant phrase it is not easy to ascertain the meaning. It occurs in many of the old comedies. From the manner in which it is used in all of them, it seems to have been synonymous to the modern expression, “Go and hang yourself.” Malone. Mr. Weber, in a note on the passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from the Knight of the Burning Pestle, has clearly shown that snick up meant go hang yourself, by the following very apposite quotation from Taylor the water poet's Praise of Hempseed: “A Tiburne hempen-caudell will e'en cure you: “It can cure traytors, but I hold it fit “T' apply 't ere they the treason doe commit. “Wherefore in Sparta it ycleped was “Snickup, which is in English gallowgrass.” Boswell.

Note return to page 707 2Farewell, dear heart, &c.] This entire song, with some variations, is published by Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Steevens.

Note return to page 708 3Out o' time? sir, ye lie.] The old copy has—“out o'tune.” We should read, “out of time,” as his speech evidently refers to what Malvolio said before: “Have you no respect for place or time in you? “Sir Toby. We did keep time, sir, in our catches.” M. Mason. The same correction, I find, had been silently made by Theobald, and was adopted by the three subsequent editors. Sir Toby is here repeating with indignation Malvolio's words. In the MSS. of our author's age, tune and time are often quite undistinguishable; the second stroke of the u seeming to be the first stroke of the m, or vice versâ. Hence, in Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. ult. edit. 1623, we have “This time, goes manly,” instead of “This tune goes manly.” Malone.

Note return to page 709 4Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?] It was the custom on holidays and saints' days to make cakes in honour of the day. The Puritans called this, superstition; and in p. 400, Maria says, that “Malvolio is sometimes a kind of Puritan.” See Quarlous's Account of Rabbi Busy, Act I. Sc. III. in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair. Letherland.

Note return to page 710 5&lblank; rub your chain with crums:] That stewards anciently wore a chain, as a mark of superiority over other servants, may be proved from the following passage in The Martial Maid of Beaumont and Fletcher: “Dost thou think I shall become the steward's chair? Will not these slender haunches shew well in a chain &lblank;?” Again: “Pia. Is your chain right? “Bob. It is both right and just, sir; “For though I am a steward, I did get it “With no man's wrong.” The best method of cleaning any gilt plate, is by rubbing it with crums. Nash, in his piece entitled, Have With You to Saffron Walden, 1595, taxes Gabriel Harvey with “having stolen a nobleman's steward's chain, at his lord's installing at Windsor.” To conclude with the most apposite instance of all. See Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “Yea, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, to scouer his gold chain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 711 6&lblank; rule;] Rule is method of life; so misrule is tumult and riot. Johnson. Rule, on this occasion, is something less than common method of life. It occasionally means the arrangement or conduct of a festival or merry-making, as well as behaviour in general. So, in the 27th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “Cast in a gallant round about the hearth they go, “And at each pause they kiss; was never seen such rule “In any place but here, at bon-fire, or at yeule.” Again, in Heywood's English Traveller, 1633: “What guests we harbour, and what rule we keep.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “And set him in the stocks for his ill rule.” In this last instance it signifies behaviour. There was formerly an officer belonging to the court, called Lord of Misrule. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “I have some cousin-germans at court shall beget you the reversion of the master of the king's revels, or else be lord of his Misrule now at Christmas.” Again, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606. “We are fully bent to be lords of Misrule in the world's wild heath.” In the country, at all periods of festivity, and in the inns of court at their Revels, an officer of the same kind was elected. Steevens.

Note return to page 712 *First folio, an ayword.

Note return to page 713 7&lblank; a nayword,] A nayword is what has since been called a byeword, a kind of proverbial reproach. Steevens.

Note return to page 714 8Possess us,] That is, inform us, tell us, make us masters of the matter. Johnson. So, in The Merchant of Venice, Shylock says: “I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose.” Douce.

Note return to page 715 9&lblank; an affection'd ass,] Affection'd means affected. In this sense, I believe, it is used in Hamlet: “&lblank; no matter in it that could indite the author of affection,” i. e. affectation. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 1&lblank; great swarths:] A swarth is as much grass or corn as a mower cuts down at one stroke of his scythe. Thus Pope, in his version of the 18th Iliad: “Here stretch'd in ranks the levell'd swarths are found.” Steevens.

Note return to page 717 2Sir And. And your horse now, &c.] This conceit, though bad enough, shews too quick an apprehension for Sir Andrew. It should be given, I believe, to Sir Toby; as well as the next short speech: “O, 'twill be admirable.” Sir Andrew does not usually give his own judgement on any thing, till he has heard that of some other person. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 718 3&lblank; Penthesilea.] i. e. Amazon. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 4Send for money, knight;] Sir Toby, in this instance, exhibits a trait of Iago: “Put money in thy purse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 720 5&lblank; call me Cut.] So, in A Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “If I help you not to that as cheap as any man in England, call me Cut.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “I'll meet you there; if I do not, call me Cut.” This term of contempt, perhaps, signifies, only—call me gelding. Steevens. “&lblank; call me Cut.” i.e. call me horse. So, Falstaff in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; spit in my face, call me horse.” That this was the meaning of this expression is ascertained by a passage in The Two Noble Kinsmen: “He'll buy me a white Cut forth for to ride.” Again, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “But master, 'pray ye, let me ride upon Cut.” Curtal, which occurs in another of our author's plays, (i. e. a horse, whose tail has been docked,) and Cut, were probably synonymous. Malone.

Note return to page 721 6&lblank; recollected &lblank;] Studied. Warburton. I rather think, that recollected signifies, more nearly to its primitive sense, recalled, repeated, and alludes to the practice of composers, who often prolong the song by repetitions. Johnson. Thus in Strada's Imitation of Claudian: &lblank; et se Multiplicat relegens &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 722 7&lblank; to the seat Where Love is thron'd.] i. e. to the heart. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “My bosom's lord [i. e. Love] sits lightly on his throne.” Again, in Othello: “Yield up, O Love, thy crown, and hearted throne &lblank;.” So before, in the first act of this play: “&lblank; when liver, brain, and heart, “These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd “(Her sweet perfections) with one self-king.” The meaning is, (as Mr. Heath has observed,) “It is so consonant to the emotions of the heart, that they echo it back again.” Malone.

Note return to page 723 8&lblank; favour.] The word favour ambiguously used. Johnson. Favour, in the preceding speech, signifies countenance. Steevens.

Note return to page 724 9&lblank; lost and worn,] Though lost and worn may mean lost and worn out, yet lost and won being, I think, better, these two words coming usually and naturally together, and the alteration being very slight, I would so read in this place with Sir T. Hanmer. Johnson. The text is undoubtedly right, and worn signifies, consumed, worn out. So Lord Surrey, in one of his Sonnets, describing the spring, says: “Winter is worn, that was the flowers bale.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “These few days' wonder will be quickly worn.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; and but infirmity, “Which waits upon worn times &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 725 1&lblank; free &lblank;] Is, perhaps, vacant, unengaged, easy in mind. Johnson. I once thought, that free meant here—‘not having yet surrendered their liberty to man;—unmarried.’ Free, however, may only mean cheerful. So, in Othello: “I slept the next night well: was free and merry.” Again, in Macbeth: “Be free and jovial with thy guests to-night.” “Fair and free,” Mr. Warton observes, is in the metrical romances a common appellation for a lady. Warton's Milt. p. 38. Chaucer, the same ingenious writer observes, applies this epithet to married women, which is adverse to the explication I had first given: “Rise up, my wife, my love, my lady, free.” March. T. v. 1655. Urr. “So Jonson makes his beautiful Countess of Bedford to be ‘fair, and free, and wise.’ Epigrams, lxxvi.” Malone. Is not free, ‘unreserved, uncontrolled by the restraints of female delicacy, forward, and such as sing plain songs?’ Henley. The precise meaning of this epithet cannot very easily be pointed out. Chaucer, Drayton, Ben Jonson, and many other poets, employ the epithet free, with little certainty of meaning. Free, in the instance before us, may commodiously signify, “artless, free from art, uninfluenced by artificial manners, undirected by false refinement in their choice of ditties.” Steevens.

Note return to page 726 2&lblank; silly sooth,] It is plain, simple truth. Johnson.

Note return to page 727 3And dallies with the innocence of love,] To dally is to play, to trifle. So, Act III.: “They that dally nicely with words.” Again, in Swetnam Arraign'd, 1620: “&lblank; he void of fear “Dallied with danger &lblank;.” Again, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Albovine, 1629: “Why dost thou dally thus with feeble motion?” Steevens.

Note return to page 728 4&lblank; the old age.] The old age is the ages past, the times of simplicity. Johnson.

Note return to page 729 5And in sad cypress let me be laid;] In the books of our author's age the thin transparent lawn called cyprus, which was formerly used for scarfs and hatbands at funerals, was, I believe, constantly spelt cypress. So, in The Winter's Tale, edit. 1623: “Cypresse black as e'er was crow &lblank;,” where undoubtedly cyprus was meant. So again, in the play before us, edit. 1623, (as Mr. Warton has observed) “&lblank; a cypresse, not a bosom, “Hides my heart.” See also Minsheu's Dict. in v. “Cypres or Cypress, a fine curled linen.” It is from the context alone therefore that we can ascertain whether cyprus or cypress was intended by our old writers. Mr. Warton has suggested in his late edition of Milton's Poems, that the meaning here is,—“Let me be laid in a shroud made of cyprus, not in a coffin made of cypress wood.” But in a subsequent line of this song the shroud, (like that of Polonius) we find, is white. There was indeed white cyprus as well as black; but the epithet sad is inconsistent with white, and therefore I suppose the wood to have been here meant. Coffins being frequently made of cypress wood, (perhaps in consequence of cyprus being used at funerals) the epithet sad is here employed with strict propriety. “King Richard the Second (says Speed) was so affected by the death of his favourite Robert de Vere, duke of Ireland, that he commanded the cypress chest wherein his body lay embalmed, to be opened, that he might see and handle it.” The king attended his funeral. Malone. “And in sad cypress let me be laid.” i. e. in a shroud of cypress or cyprus. Thus Autolycus, in The Winter's Tale: “Lawn as white as driven snow, “Cyprus black as e'er was crow.” There was both black and white cyprus, as there is still black and white crape; and ancient shrouds were always made of the latter. Steevens.

Note return to page 730 6Fly away, fly away,] The old copy reads—Fie away. The emendation is Mr. Rowe's. Malone.

Note return to page 731 7My part of death no one so true Did share it.] Though death is a part in which every one acts his share, yet of all these actors no one is so true as I. Johnson.

Note return to page 732 8Sad true lover &lblank;] Mr. Pope rejected the word sad, and other modern editors have unnecessarily changed true lover to— true love. By making never one syllable the metre is preserved. Since this note was written, I have observed that lover is elsewhere used by our poet as a word of one syllable. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Tie up my lover's tongue; bring him in silently.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's.” There is perhaps, therefore, no need of abbreviating the word never in this line. Malone. In the instance produced from A Midsummer Night's Dream, I suppose lover to be a misprint for love; and in K. Henry VIII. I know not why it should be considered as a monosyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 733 9&lblank; a very opal!] A precious stone of almost all colours. Pope. So, Milton, describing the walls of heaven: “With opal tow'rs, and battlements adorn'd.” The opal is a gem which varies its appearance as it is viewed in different lights. Thus, in The Muses' Elizium, by Drayton: “With opals more than any one   “We'll deck thine altar fuller, “For that of every precious stone   “It doth retain some colour.” “In the opal, (says P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, b. xxxvii. c. 6,) you shall see the burning fire of the carbuncle or rubie, the glorious purple of the amethyst, the green sea of the emeraud, and all glittering together mixed after an incredible manner.” Steevens.

Note return to page 734 1&lblank; that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where;] Both the preservation of the antithesis, and the recovery of the sense, require we should read,—“and their intent no where.” Because a man who suffers himself to run with every wind, and so makes his business every where, cannot be said to have any intent; for that word signifies a determination of the mind to something. Besides, the conclusion of making a good voyage of nothing, directs to this emendation. Warburton. An intent every where, is much the same as an intent no where, as it hath no one particular place more in view than another. Heath. The present reading is preferable to Warburton's amendment. We cannot accuse a man of inconstancy who has no intents at all, though we may the man whose intents are every where; that is, are continually varying. M. Mason.

Note return to page 735 2But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems, That nature pranks her in,] What is “that miracle, and queen of gems?” we are not told in this reading. Besides, what is meant by ‘nature pranking her in a miracle?’—We should read: “But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems, “That nature pranks, her mind &lblank;.” i. e. what attracts my soul, is not her fortune, but her mind, that miracle and queen of gems that nature pranks, i. e. sets out, adorns. Warburton. The miracle and queen of gems is her beauty, which the commentator might have found without so emphatical an enquiry. As to her mind, he that should be captious would say, that though it may be formed by nature, it must be pranked by education. Shakspeare does not say that nature pranks her in a miracle, but in the miracle of gems, that is, in a gem miraculously beautiful. Johnson. To prank is to deck out, to adorn. See Lye's Etymologicon. Heath. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; and me, “Most goddess-like, prank'd up &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 736 3I cannot be so answer'd.] The folio reads—“It cannot be,” &c. Steevens. The correction was made by Sir Thomas Hanmer. I am not sure that it is necessary, though it has been adopted in the late editions. The Duke may mean, ‘My suit cannot be so answered.’ Malone.

Note return to page 737 4Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, &c. That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;] The duke has changed his opinion of women very suddenly. It was but a few minutes before that he said they had more constancy in love than men. M. Mason. Mr. Mason would read—suffers; but there is no need of change. Suffer is governed by women, implied under the words, “their love.” The love of women, &c. who suffer. Malone.

Note return to page 738 5&lblank; as hungry as the sea,] So, in Coriolanus: “Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach “Fillip the stars &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 739 6&lblank; like a worm i' the bud,] So, in the fifth Sonnet of Shakspeare: “Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, “Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name.” Steevens. Again, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud?” Again, in King Richard II.: “But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, “And chase the native beauty from his cheek.” Malone.

Note return to page 740 7&lblank; she pin'd in thought;] Thought formerly signified melancholy. So, in Hamlet: “Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.” Again, in The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “The cause of this her death was inward care and thought.” Malone. Mr. Malone says, thought means melancholy. But why wrest from this word its plain and usual acceptation, and make Shakspeare guilty of tautology? for in the very next line he uses “melancholy.” Douce.

Note return to page 741 8And, with a green and yellow melancholy,] Chaucer, in his Romaunt of the Rose, has a similar description of sorrow, and is guilty of the same tautology: “Sorrow was painted next Envie, “Upon that wall of masonrie; “But well was seene in her colour, “That she had lived in languour, “Her seemed to have the jaundice, “Not halfe so pale was Avarice, “Ne nothing like of leannesse, “For sorowe, thought, and great distress, “That she had suffred daie and night “Made her yellow, and nothing bright!” Boswell.

Note return to page 742 9She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.] So, in Middleton's Witch, Act IV. Sc. III.: “She does not love me now, but painefully “Like one that's forc'd to smile upon a grief.” Douce. For the sake of those readers who may think that this exquisite passage stands in no need of explanation, I have saved them from the interruption which would have been occasioned by the long notes written upon it, and have thrown them to the end of the play. Boswell.

Note return to page 743 1I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too;] This was the most artful answer that could be given. The question was of such a nature, that to have declined the appearance of a direct answer, must have raised suspicion. This has the appearance of a direct answer, that the sister died of her love; she (who passed for a man) saying, she was all the daughters of her father's house. Warburton. Such another equivoque occurs in Lyly's Galathea, 1592: “&lblank; my father had but one daughter, and therefore I could have no sister.” Steevens.

Note return to page 744 1&lblank; bide no denay.] Denay is denial. To denay is an antiquated verb sometimes used by Holinshed. So, p. 620: “&lblank; the state of a cardinal which was naied and denaied him.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. ii. ch. 10: “&lblank; thus did say “The thing, friend Battus, you demand, not gladly I denay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 745 2&lblank; my metal of India?] So, in Ram Alley, 1611: “Come, wench of gold.” So, also, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Lads, boys, hearts of gold, &c. Again, ibidem: “&lblank; and as bountiful “As mines of India.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “To-day the French “All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, “Shone down the English; and to-morrow they “Made Britain India; every man that stood, “Shew'd like a mine.” So Lyly, in his Euphues and his England, 1580: “I saw that India bringeth gold, but England bringeth goodness.” Again, in Wily Beguil'd, 1606: “Come, my heart of gold, let's have a dance at the making up of this match.”—The person there addressed, as in Twelfth-Night, is a woman. The old copy has mettle. The two words are very frequently confounded in the early editions of our author's plays. The editor of the second folio arbitrarily changed the word to nettle; which all the subsequent editors have adopted. Malone. “&lblank; my nettle of India?” The poet must here mean a zoophite, called the Urtica Marina, abounding in the Indian seas. “Quæ tacta totius corporis pruritum quendam excitat, unde nomen urticæ est sortita.” Wolfgangi Franzii Hist. Animal, 1665, p. 620. “Urticæ marinæ omnes pruritum quendam movent, et acrimonia suâ venerem extinctam et sopitam excitant.” Johnstoni Hist. Nat. de Exang. Aquat. p. 56. Perhaps the same plant is alluded to by Greene, in his Card of Fancy, 1608: “the flower of India, pleasant to be seen, but whoso smelleth to it, feeleth present smart.” Again, in his Mamillia, 1593: “Consider, the herb of India is of pleasant smell, but whoso cometh to it, feeleth present smart.” Again, in P. Holland's translation of the ninth book of Pliny's Natural History: “As for those nettles, there be of them that in the night raunge to and fro, and likewise change their colour. Leaves they carry of a fleshy substance, and of flesh they feed. Their qualities is to raise an itching smart.” Maria had certainly excited a congenial sensation in Sir Toby. The folio, 1623, reads—“mettle of India,” which may mean, my girl of gold, my precious girl. The change, however, which I have not disturbed, was made by the editor of the folio, 1632, who, in many instances, appears to have regulated his text from more authentic copies of our author's plays than were in the possession of their first collective publishers. Steevens. Nettle of India, which Steevens has ingeniously explained, certainly better corresponds with Sir Toby's description of Maria— “here comes the little villain.” The nettle of India is the plant that produces what is called cow-itch, a substance only used for the purpose of tormenting, by its itching quality. M. Mason.

Note return to page 746 3&lblank; here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.] Cogan, in his Haven of Health, 1595, will prove an able commentator on this passage: “This fish of nature loveth flatterie: for, being in the water, it will suffer it selfe to be rubbed and clawed, and so to be taken. Whose example I would wish no maides to follow, least they repent afterclaps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 747 4&lblank; how he jets &lblank;] To jet is to strut, to agitate the body by a proud motion. So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Is now become the steward of the house, “And bravely jets it in a silken gown.” Again, in Bussy D'Ambois, 1607: “To jet in others' plumes so haughtily.” Steevens.

Note return to page 748 5&lblank; the lady of the strachy &lblank;] We should read—Trachy, i. e. Thrace; for so the old English writers called it. Mandeville says: “As Trachye and Macedoigne, of the which Alisandre was kyng.” It was common to use the article the before names of places; and this was no improper instance, where the scene was in Illyria. Warburton. What we should read is hard to say. Here is an allusion to some old story which I have not yet discovered. Johnson. Straccio (see Torriano's and Altieri's Dictionaries) signifies clouts and tatters; and Torriano, in his Grammar, at the end of his Dictionary, says that straccio was pronounced stratchi. So that it is probable that Shakspeare's meaning was this, that the lady of the queen's wardrobe had married a yeoman of the king's, who was vastly inferior to her. Smith. Such is Mr. Smith's note; but it does not appear that strachy was ever an English word, nor will the meaning given it by the Italians be of any use on the present occasion. Perhaps a letter has been misplaced, and we ought to read— starchy; i. e. the room in which linen underwent the once most complicated operation of starching. I do not know that such a word exists; and yet it would not be unanalogically formed from the substantive starch. In Harsnet's Declaration, 1603, we meet with “a yeoman of the sprucery;” i. e. wardrobe; and in the Northumberland Household-Book, nursery is spelt nurcy. Starchy, therefore for starchery, may be admitted. In Romeo and Juliet, the place where paste was made is called the pastry. The lady who had the care of the linen may be significantly opposed to the yeoman, i. e. an inferior officer of the wardrobe. While the five different coloured starches were worn, such a term might have been current. In the year 1564, a Dutch woman professed to teach this art to our fair country-women. “Her usual price (says Stowe) was four or five pounds to teach them how to starch, and twenty shillings how to seeth starch.” The alteration was suggested to me by a typographical error in The World toss'd at Tennis, no date, by Middleton and Rowley; where straches is printed for starches. I cannot fairly be accused of having dealt much in conjectural emendation, and therefore feel the less reluctance to hazard a guess on this desperate passage. Steevens. The place in which candles were kept, was formerly called the chandry; and in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, a ginger-bread woman is called “lady of the basket.”—The great objection to this emendation is, that from the starchy to the wardrobe is not what Shakspeare calls a very “heavy declension.” In the old copy the word is printed in Italicks as the name of a place—Strachy. The “yeoman of the wardrobe” is not an arbitrary term, but was the proper designation of the wardrobe-keeper, in Shakspeare's time. See Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Vestiario, a wardrobe-keeper, or a yeoman of a wardrobe.” The story which our poet had in view is perhaps alluded to by Lyly in Euphues and his England, 1580: “&lblank; assuring myself there was a certain season when women are to be won: in the which moments they have neither will to deny, nor wit to mistrust. Such a time I have read a young gentleman found to obtain the love of the Dutchess of Milaine: such a time I have heard that a poor yeoman chose, to get the fairest lady in Mantua.” Malone. “The dutchesse of Malphey chose for her husband her servant Ulrico.” Greene's Card of Fancie, 1593, sig. L. Boswell. The Governors employ'd by the Greek Emperors in Sicily and Italy from the sixth to the tenth century, were called &grS;&grT;&grR;&grA;&grT;&grH;&grG;&grO;&grI;, Generals or prætors, corrupted by the Italians, partly through their own, and partly through the Byzantine pronunciation to stratici, pronounced stratichi; which continued to be a title of magistracy in many states long afterwards; and this word strachy, which has so puzzled all the commentators, is only a further corruption of it acquired in its passage through successive French and English translations of some old Italian novel, in which the widow of one of those magistrates had married an inferior officer of her household. See Giannone Hist. di Napoli, l. xi. c. vi. R. P. Knight.

Note return to page 749 6&lblank; blows him.] i. e. puffs him up. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; on her breast “There is a vent of blood, and something blown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 750 7&lblank; my state, &lblank;] A state, in ancient language, signifies a chair with a canopy over it. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “This chair shall be my state.” Steevens.

Note return to page 751 8&lblank; stone-bow,] That is, a cross-bow, a bow which shoots stones. Johnson. This instrument is mentioned again in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1605: “whoever will hit the mark of profit, must, like those who shoot in stone-bows, wink with one eye.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and no King: “&lblank; children will shortly take him “For a wall, and set their stone-bows in his forehead.” Steevens.

Note return to page 752 9&lblank; come from a day-bed,] i. e. a couch. Spenser, in the first canto of the third book of his Fairy Queen, has dropped a stroke of satire on this lazy fashion: “So was that chamber clad in goodly wize, “And round about it many beds were dight, “As whilome was the antique worldes guize, “Some of untimely ease, some for delight.” Steevens. Estifania, in Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, Act I. says, in answer to Perez: “This place will fit our talk; 'tis fitter far, sir; “Above there are day-beds, and such temptations “I dare not trust, sir.” Reed.

Note return to page 753 1&lblank; wind up my watch,] In our author's time watches were very uncommon. When Guy Faux was taken, it was urged as a circumstance of suspicion that a watch was found upon him. Johnson. Again, in an ancient MS. play, entitled The Second Maiden's Tragedy, written between the years 1610 and 1611: “Like one that has a watche of curious making; “Thinking to be more cunning than the workman, “Never gives over tamp'ring with the wheels, “Till either spring be weaken'd, balance bow'd, “Or some wrong pin put in, and so spoils all.” In the Antipodes, a comedy, 1638, are the following passages; “&lblank; your project against “The multiplicity of pocket-watches.” Again: “&lblank; when every puny clerk can carry “The time o' th' day in his breeches.” Again, in The Alchemist: “And I had lent my watch last night to one “That dines to-day at the sheriff's.” Steevens. Pocket-watches were brought from Germany into England, about the year 1580. Malone.

Note return to page 754 2&lblank; or play with my some rich jewel.] Thus the old copy. The modern editors omit my. Malone. “Or play with my some rich jewel.” Malone The Reading of the old copy, however quaint and affected, may signify—“and play with some rich jewel of my own,” some ornament appended to my person.” He is entertaining himself with ideas of future magnificence. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 3&lblank; court'sies there to me:] From this passage one might suspect that the manner of paying respect, which is now confined to females, was equally used by the other sex. It is probable, however, that the word court'sy was employed to express acts of civility and reverence by either men or women indiscriminately. In an extract from the Black Book of Warwick, Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica, p. 4, it is said, “The pulpett being sett at the nether end of the Earle of Warwick's tombe in the said quier, the table was placed where the altar had bene. At the coming into the quier my lord made lowe curtesie to the French king's armes.” Again, in the Book of Kervynge and Sewynge, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, sign. A. IIII.: “And whan your Soverayne is set, loke your towell be about your necke, then make your soverayne curtesy, then uncover your brede and set it by the salte, and laye your napkyn, knyfe, and spone afore hym, then kneel on your knee,” &c. These directions are to male servants. Lord Herbert of Cherbury, in his Life, speaking of dancing, recommends that accomplishment to youth, “that he may know how to come in and go out of a room where company is, how to make courtesies handsomely, according to the several degrees of persons he shall encounter.” Reed.

Note return to page 756 4Though our silence be drawn from us with cars,] i. e. though it is the greatest pain to us to keep silence. Warburton. I believe the true reading is: “Though our silence be drawn from us with carts, yet peace.” In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, one of the Clowns says: “I have a mistress, but who that is, a team of horses shall not pluck from me.” So, in this play: “Oxen and wainropes will not bring them together.” Johnson. The old reading is cars, as I have printed it. It is well known that cars and carts have the same meaning. A somewhat similar passage occurs in the old play of King Leir, 1605: “&lblank; ten teame of horses shall not draw me away, till I have full and whole possession.” “King. I, but one teame and a cart will serve the turne.” Steevens. If I were to suggest a word in the place of cars, which I think is a corruption, it should be cables. It may be worth remarking, perhaps, that the leading ideas of Malvolio, in his humour of state, bear a strong resemblance to those of Alnaschar, in The Arabian Nights' Entertainments. Some of the expressions too are very similar. Tyrwhitt. Many Arabian fictions had found their way into obscure Latin and French books, and from thence into English ones, long before any professed version of The Arabian Nights' Entertainments had appeared. I meet with a story similar to that of Alnaschar, in The Dialoges of Creatures Moralysed, bl. l. no date, but probably printed abroad: “It is but foly to hope to moche of vanyteys. Whereof it is tolde in fablys that a lady uppon a tyme delyuered to her mayden a galon of mylke to sell at a cite. And by the waye as she sate and restid her by a dyche side, she began to thinke yt with ye money of the mylke she wolde bye an henne, the which shulde bring forth chekyns, and whan they were growyn to hennys she wolde sell them and by piggis, and eschaunge them into shepe, and the shepe into oxen; and so whan she was come to richesse she sholde be maried right worshipfully vnto some worthy man, and thus she reioycid. And whan she was thus meruelously comfortid, & rauished inwardely in her secrete solace thinkynge with howe great ioye she shuld be ledde towarde the churche with her husbond on horsebacke, she sayde to her self: Goo wee, goo wee. Sodaynelye she smote the grounde with her fote, myndynge to spurre the horse; but her fote slypped and she fell in the dyche, and there laye all her mylke; and so she was farre from her purpose, and neuer had that she hopid to haue.” Dial. 100, LL. ii. b. Steevens.

Note return to page 757 5What employment have we here?] A phrase of that time, equivalent to our common speech—“What's to do here?” Warburton.

Note return to page 758 6&lblank; her great P's.] In the direction of the letter which Malvolio reads, there is neither a C, nor a P, to be found. Steevens. I am afraid some very coarse and vulgar appellations are meant to be alluded to by these capital letters. Blackstone. This was perhaps an oversight in Shakspeare; or rather, for the sake of the allusion hinted at in the preceding note, he chose not to attend to the words of the direction. It is remarkable, that in the repetition of the passages in letters, which have been produced in a former part of a play, he very often makes his characters deviate from the words before used, though they have the paper itself in their hands, and though they appear to recite, not the substance, but the very words. So, in All's Well That Ends Well, Act V. Helen says: “&lblank; here's your letter; This it says: “When from my finger you can get this ring, “And are by me with child;”— yet in Act III. Sc. II. she reads this very letter aloud; and there the words are different, and in plain prose: “When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and shew me a child begotten of thy body,” &c. Had she spoken in either case from memory, the deviation might easily be accounted for; but in both these places, she reads the words from Bertram's letter. Malone. From the usual custom of Shakspeare's age, we may easily suppose the whole direction to have run thus: “To the Unknown belov'd, this, and my good wishes, with Care Present.” Ritson.

Note return to page 759 7&lblank; By your leave, wax.—Soft!] It was the custom in our poet's time to seal letters with soft wax, which retained its softness for a good while. The wax used at present would have been hardened long before Malvolio picked up this letter. See Your Five Gallants, a comedy, by Middleton: “Fetch a pennyworth of soft wax to seal letters.” So, Falstaff, in K. Henry IV. Part II.: “I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him.” Malone. I do not suppose that—Soft! has any reference to the wax; but is merely an exclamation equivalent to Softly! i. e. be not in too much haste. Thus, in The Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Soft! no haste.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida “Farewell. Yet soft!” I may also observe, that though it was anciently the custom (as it still is) to seal certain legal instruments with soft and pliable wax, familiar letters (of which I have seen specimens from the time of K. Henry VI. to K. James I.) were secured with wax as glossy and firm as that employed in the present year. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 8&lblank; brock!] i. e. badger. He uses the word as a term of contempt, as if he had said, hang thee, cur! Out filth! to stink like a brock being proverbial. Ritson. “Marry, hang thee, brock!” i. e. Marry, hang thee, thou vain, conceited coxcomb, thou over-weening rogue! Brock, which properly signifies a badger, was used in this sense in Shakspeare's time. So, in The Merrie Conceited Jests of George Peele, 4to. 1657: “This self-conceited brock had George invited,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 761 9&lblank; doth sway my life.] This phrase is seriously employed in As You Like It, Act III. Sc. II.: “Thy huntress name, that my full life doth sway.” Steevens.

Note return to page 762 1&lblank; stannyel &lblank;] The name of a kind of hawk is very judiciously put here for a stallion, by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Johnson. Here is one of at least a hundred instances of the transcriber of these plays being deceived by his ear. The eye never could have confounded stannyel and stallion. Malone. To check, says Latham, in his book of Falconry, is, “when crows, rooks, pies, or other birds, coming in view of the hawk, she forsaketh her natural flight, to fly at them.” The stannyel is the common stone-hawk, which inhabits old buildings and rocks; in the north called stanchil. I have this information from Mr. Lambe's notes on the ancient metrical history of the battle of Floddon. Steevens.

Note return to page 763 2&lblank; formal capacity.] i. e. any one in his senses, any one whose capacity is not dis-arranged, or out of form. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Make of him a formal man again.“ Again, in Measure for Measure: “These informal women.” Steevens.

Note return to page 764 3Sowter &lblank;] Sowter is here, I suppose, the name of a hound. Sowterly, however, is often employed as a term of abuse. So, in Like Will to Like, &c. 1587: “You sowterly knaves, show you all your manners at once? A sowter was a cobler. So, in Greene's Card of Fancy, 1608; “If Apelles, that cunning painter, suffer the greasy sowter to take a view of his curious work,” &c. Steevens. I believe the meaning is—“This fellow will, notwithstanding, catch at and be duped by our device, though the cheat is so gross that any one else would find it out.” Our author, as usual, forgets to make his simile answer on both sides; for it is not to be wondered at that a hound should cry or give his tongue, if the scent be as rank as a fox. Malone.

Note return to page 765 4&lblank; as rank as a fox.] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads,—“not as rank.” The other editions, “though it be as rank,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 766 5And O shall end, I hope.] By O is here meant what we now call a hempen collar. Johnson. I believe he means only, “it shall end in sighing,” in disappointment. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Why should you fall into so deep an O?” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, second part, 1630: “&lblank; the brick house of castigation, the school where they pronounce no letter well but O!’ Again, in Hymen's Triumph, by Daniel, 1623: “Like to an O, the character of woe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 767 6&lblank; are born great,] The old copy reads—“are become great.” The alteration by Mr. Rowe. Steevens. It is justified by a subsequent passage in which the clown recites from memory the words of this letter. Malone.

Note return to page 768 7Some achieve greatness,] So in Fletcher's Night Walker: “Although I am no gentlewoman born, “I hope I may atchieve it by my carriage.” Boswell.

Note return to page 769 8Be opposite &lblank;] That is, be adverse, hostile. An opposite, in the language of our author's age, meant an adversary. See a note on K. Richard III. Act V. Sc. IV. To be opposite with was the phraseology of the time. So, in Sir T. Overbury's Character of a Precisian, 1616: “He will be sure to be in opposition with the papist,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 770 9&lblank; yellow stockings;] Before the civil wars, yellow-stockings were much worn. So, in D'Avenant's play, called The Wits, Act IV. p. 208. Works, fol. 1673: “You said, my girl, Mary Queasie by name, did find your uncle's yellow stockings in a porringer; nay, and you said she stole them.” Percy. So, Middleton and Rowley in their masque entitled The World Toss'd at Tennis, no date, where the five different-coloured starches are introduced as striving for superiority, Yellow starch says to white: “&lblank; since she cannot “Wear her own linen yellow, yet she shows “Her love to't, and makes him wear yellow hose.” Again, in Decker's Match Me in London, 1631: “&lblank; because you wear “A kind of yellow stocking.” Again, in his Honest Whore, second part, 1630: “What stockings have you put on this morning, madam? if they be not yellow, change them.” The yeomen attending the Earl of Arundel, Lord Windsor, and Mr. Fulke Greville, who assisted at an entertainment performed before Queen Elizabeth, on the Monday and Tuesday in Whitsun-week, 1581, were dressed in yellow worsted stockings. The book from which I gather this information was published by Henry Goldwell, gent. in the same year. Steevens.

Note return to page 771 1&lblank; cross-gartered:] So, in The Lover's Melancholy, 1629: “As rare an old youth as ever walk'd cross-gartered.” Again, in A Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “Yet let me say and swear, in a cross-garter, “Pauls never shew'd to eyes a lovelier quarter.” Very rich garters were anciently worn below the knee. So, in Warner's Albion's England, b. ix. ch. 47: “Garters of listes; but now of silk, some edged deep with gold.” It appears, however, that the ancient Puritans affected this fashion. Thus, Barton Holyday, speaking of the ill success of his &grT;&grE;&grX;&grN;&grO;&grG;&grA;&grM;&grI;&grA;, says: “Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man “Whom their loud laugh might nick-name Puritan; “Cas'd up in factious breeches, and small ruffe; “That hates the surplice, and defies the cuffe. “Then,” &c. In a former scene Malvolio was said to be an affecter of puritanism. Steevens.

Note return to page 772 1The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more:] We should read—“The fortunate, and happy.”—“Day-light and champian discovers not more:” i. e. ‘broad day and an open country cannot make things plainer. Warburton. The folio, which is the only ancient copy of this play, reads, “The fortunate-unhappy,” and so I have printed it. “The fortunate-unhappy” is the subscription of the letter. Steevens.

Note return to page 773 2&lblank; I will be point-de-vice, the very man.] This phrase is of French extraction—a points-devisez. Chaucer uses it in the Romaunt of the Rose: “Her nose was wrought at point-device.” i. e. with the utmost possible exactness. Again, in K. Edward I. 1599: “That we may have our garments point-device.” Kastril, in The Alchemist, calls his sister Punk-device: and again, in The Tale of a Tub, Act III. Sc. VII.: “&lblank; and if the dapper priest “Be but as cunning point in his devise, “As I was in my lie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 3&lblank; a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.] Alluding, as Dr. Farmer observes, to Sir Robert Shirley, who was just returned in the character of “embassador from the Sophy.” He boasted of the great rewards he had received, and lived in London with the utmost splendor. Steevens. See further on this subject in an Attempt to Ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays, vol. ii. Malone.

Note return to page 775 4&lblank; tray-trip.] Tray-trip is mentioned in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady, 1616: “Reproving him at tray-trip, sir, for swearing.” Again, in Glapthorne's Wit in a Constable, 1640: “&lblank; mean time, you may play at tray-trip or cockall, for black-puddings.” “My watch are above, at trea-trip, for a black-pudding,” &c. Again: “With lanthorn on stall, at trea-trip we play, “For ale, cheese, and pudding, till it be day,” &c. Steevens. The following passage might incline one to believe that tray-trip was the name of some game at tables, or draughts: “There is great danger of being taken sleepers at tray-trip, if the king sweep suddenly.” Cecil's Correspondence, Lett. x. p. 136. Ben Jonson joins tray-trip with mum-chance. Alchemist, Act V. Sc. IV.: “Nor play with costar-mongers at mum-chance, tray-trip.” Tyrwhitt. The truth of Mr. Tyrwhitt's conjecture will be established by the following extract from Machiavel's Dogge, a satire, 4to. 1617: “But leaving cardes, lett's goe to dice awhile,   “To passage, treitippe, hazarde, or mum-chance, “But subtill males will simple minds beguile,   “And blinde their eyes with many a blinking glaunce: “Oh, cogges and stoppes, and such like devilish trickes, “Full many a purse of golde and silver pickes. “And therefore first, for hazard hee that list,   “And passeth not, puts many to a blancke: “And trippe without a treye makes had I wist   “To sitt and mourne among the sleeper's ranke: “And for mumchance, how ere the chance doe fall, “You must be mum, for fear of marring all.” Reed.

Note return to page 776 5&lblank; aqua-vitæ &lblank;] Is the old name of strong waters. Johnson.

Note return to page 777 6&lblank; cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;] Sir Thomas Overbury, in his character of a footman without gards on his coat, presents him as more upright than any crosse-gartered gentleman-usher. Farmer.

Note return to page 778 7&lblank; by the tabor? Clo. No, sir, I live by the church.] The Clown, I suppose, wilfully mistakes Viola's meaning, and answers, as if he had been asked whether he lived by the “sign of the tabor,” the ancient designation of a music shop. Steevens. It was likewise the sign of an eating-house kept by Tarleton, the celebrated clown or fool of the theatre before our author's time, who is exhibited in a print prefixed to his Jests, quarto, 1611, with a tabor. Perhaps in imitation of him the subsequent stage-clowns usually appeared with one. Malone. This instrument is found in the hands of fools long before the time of Shakspeare. With respect to the sign of the tabor mentioned in the notes, it might, as stated, have been the designation of a musick shop; but that it was the sign of an eating-house kept by Tarleton is a mistake into which a learned commentator has been inadvertently betrayed. It appears from Tarleton's Jests, 1611, 4to. that he kept a tavern in Gracious [Gracechurch] street, at the sign of the Saba. This is the person who in our modern bibles is called the queen of Sheba, and the sign has been corrupted into that of the bell-savage, as may be gathered from the inedited metrical romance of Alexander, supposed to have been written at the beginning of the fourteenth century by Adam Davie, who, in describing the countries visited by his hero, mentions that of Macropy (the Macropii of Pliny), and adds, “In heore lond is a cité “On of the noblest in Christianté; “Hit hotith Sabba in langage. “Thennes cam Sibely savage, “Of al theo world theo fairest quene, “To Jerusalem, Salamon to seone “For hire fairhed, and for hire love, “Salamon forsok his God above.” Douce. The corruption which is mentioned by Mr. Douce is as old as Tarleton's time, as appears from the following entry in the books of the Stationers' Company: “A sorrowfull newe sonnette intitled Tarlton's Recantation, upon this theame given him by a gent at the Bel Savage without Ludgate (now or else never), beinge the laste theme he songe,” &c. I need scarcely inform the reader, that the romance of Alexander, since Mr. Douce's note was written, has been reprinted in Mr. Weber's Collection. Boswell.

Note return to page 779 8&lblank; the king lies by a beggar,] Lies here, as in many other places in old books, signifies—dwells, sojourns. See King Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 780 9&lblank; a cheveril glove &lblank;] i. e. a glove made of kid leather: chevreau, Fr. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; a wit of cheveril &lblank;.” Again, in a proverb in Ray's Collection: “He hath a conscience like a cheverel's skin.” Steevens.

Note return to page 781 1&lblank; have bred, sir?] I believe our author wrote—“have breed, sir.” The Clown is not speaking of what a pair might have done, had they been kept together, but what they may do hereafter in his possession; and therefore covertly solicits another piece from Viola, on the suggestion that one was useless to him, without another to breed out of. Viola's answer corresponds with this train of argument: she does not say—“if they had been kept together,” &c. but, “being kept together,” i. e. Yes, they will breed, if you keep them together. Our poet has the same image in his Venus and Adonis: “Foul cank'ring rust the hidden treasure frets, “But gold, that's put to use, more gold begets.” Malone.

Note return to page 782 2&lblank; lord Pandarus &lblank;] See our author's play of Troilus and Cressida. Johnson.

Note return to page 783 3&lblank; Cressida was a beggar.] “&lblank; great penurye “Thou suffer shalt, and as a beggar dye.” Chaucer's Testament of Creseyde. Cressida is the person spoken of. Malone. Again, ibid: “Thus shalt thou go begging from hous to hous, “With cuppe and clappir, like a Lazarous.” Thoebald.

Note return to page 784 4&lblank; the haggard,] The hawk called the haggard, if not well trained and watched, will fly after every bird without distinction. Steevens. The meaning may be, that he must catch every opportunity, as the wild hawk strikes every bird. But perhaps it might be read more properly: “Not like the haggard.” He must choose persons and times, and observe tempers; he must fly at proper game, like the trained hawk, and not fly at large like the unreclaimed haggard, to seize all that comes in his way. Johnson.

Note return to page 785 5But wise men, folly-fallen,] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, folly shewn. Johnson. The first folio reads, “But wise men's folly falne, quite taint their wit.” From whence I should conjecture, that Shakspeare possibly wrote: “But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.” i. e. wise men fallen into folly. Tyrwhitt. The sense is: “But wise men's folly, when it is once fallen into extravagance, overpowers their discretion. Heath. I explain it thus: “The folly which he shews with proper adaptation to persons and times, is fit, has its propriety, and therefore produces no censure; but the folly of wise men, when it falls or happens, taints their wit, destroys the reputation of their judgment. Johnson. I have adopted Mr. Tyrwhitt's judicious emendation. Steevens.

Note return to page 786 6Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Vio. And you, sir. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.] Thus the old copy. Steevens. I have ventured to make the two knights change speeches in this dialogue with Viola; and, I think, not without good reason. It were a preposterous forgetfulness in the poet, and out of all probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is said to him in it, who in the first Act did not know the English of pourquoi. Theobald. Mr. Theobald thinks it absurd that Sir Andrew, who did not know the meaning of pourquoi in the first Act, should here speak and understand French; and therefore has given three of Sir Andrew's speeches to Sir Toby, and vice versâ, in which he has been copied by the subsequent editors, as it seems to me, without necessity. The words,—“Save you, gentleman,—” which he has taken from Sir Toby, and given to Sir Andrew, are again used by Sir Toby in a subsequent scene; a circumstance which renders it the more probable that they were intended to be attributed to him here also. With respect to the improbability that Sir Andrew should understand French here, after having betrayed his ignorance of that language in a former scene, it appears from a subsequent passage that he was a picker up of phrases, and might have learned by rote from Sir Toby the few French words here spoken. If we are to believe Sir Toby, Sir Andrew “could speak three or four languages word for word without book.” Malone.

Note return to page 787 7If your trade be to her.] Trade was anciently used in a general sense to express business or employment of any kind. So, in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 368: “Have you any further trade with us?” See note on that passage. Boswell.

Note return to page 788 8&lblank; the list &lblank;] Is the bound, limit, farthest point. Johnson.

Note return to page 789 9Taste your legs, sir, &c.] Perhaps this expression was employed to ridicule the fantastic use of a verb, which is many times as quaintly introduced in the old pieces, as in this play, and in The True Tragedies of Marius and Scilla, 1594: “A climbing tow'r that did not taste the wind.” Again, in Chapman's version of the 21st Odyssey: “&lblank; he now began “To taste the bow, the sharp shaft took, tugg'd hard.” In the Frogs of Aristophanes, however, a similar expression occurs, v. 462: “&grG;&grE;&grU;&grS;&grA;&grI; &grt;&grhc;&grst; &grq;&grua;&grr;&gra;&grst;;” i. e. taste the door, knock gently at it. Steevens. Brunck terms it, elegans locutio: and quotes Plautus as using gustare in the sense of experiri, periculum facere. Mostell, v. i. 15: Herus meus hic quidem est gustare ejus sermonem volo. Boswell.

Note return to page 790 1&lblank; prevented.] i. e. our purpose is anticipated. So, in the 119th Psalm: “Mine eyes prevent the night-watches.” Steevens.

Note return to page 791 2&lblank; most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.] Pregnant, for ready; as in Measure for Measure, vol. ix. p. 8. Steevens. Vouchsafed, for vouchsafing. Malone.

Note return to page 792 3&lblank; all three ready.] The old copy has—“all three already.” Mr. Malone reads—“all three all ready.” Steevens. The editor of the third folio reformed the passage by reading only—ready. But omissions ought always to be avoided if possible. The repetition of the word all is not improper in the mouth of Sir Andrew. Malone. Præferatur lectio brevior, is a well known rule of criticism; and in the present instance I most willingly follow it, omitting the useless repetition—all. Steevens.

Note return to page 793 3&lblank; I beseech you:] The first folio reads—“'beseech you.” Steevens. This ellipsis occurs so frequently in our author's plays, that I do not suspect any omission here. The editor of the third folio reads—“I beseech you;” which supplies the syllable wanting, but hurts the metre. Malone. I read with the third folio; not perceiving how the metre is injured by the insertion of the vowel—I. Steevens.

Note return to page 794 4&lblank; you did here,] The old copy reads—heare. Steevens. Nonsense. Read and point it thus: “After the last enchantment you did here,” i. e. after the enchantment your presence worked in my affections. Warburton. The present reading is no more nonsense than the emendation. Johnson. Warburton's amendment, the reading, “you did here,” though it may not perhaps be absolutely necessary to make sense of the passage, is evidently right. Olivia could not speak of her sending him a ring, as a matter he did not know except by hearsay; for the ring was absolutely delivered to him. It would, besides, be impossible to know what Olivia meant by “the last enchantment,” if she had not explained it herself by saying—“the last enchantment you did here.” There is not, perhaps, a passage in Shakspeare, where so great an improvement of the sense is gained by changing a single letter. M. Mason. The two words are very frequently confounded in the old editions of our author's plays, and the other books of that age. See the last line of King Richard III. quarto, 1613: “That she may long live heare, God say amen.” Again, in The Tempest, folio, 1623, p. 3, l. x.: “Heare, cease more questions.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost, 1623, p. 139: “Let us complain to them what fools were heare.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well, 1623, p. 239: “That hugs his kicksey-wicksey heare at home.” Again, in Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, vol. i. p. 205: “&lblank; to my utmost knowledge, heare is simple truth and verity.” I could add twenty other instances were they necessary. Throughout the first edition of our author's Rape of Lucrece, 1594, which was probably printed under his own inspection, the word we now spell here, is constantly written heare. Let me add, that Viola had not simply heard that a ring had been sent (if even such an expression as—“After the last enchantment, you did heare,” were admissible;) she had seen and talked with the bearer of it. Malone.

Note return to page 795 5To one of your receiving &lblank;] i. e. to one of your ready apprehension. She considers him as an arch page. Warburton. See p. 381, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 796 6&lblank; a cyprus,] Is a transparent stuff. Johnson.

Note return to page 797 7Hides my heart: So let me hear you speak.] The word hear is used in this line like “tear, dear, swear,” &c. as a dissylable. The editor of the second folio, to supply what he imagined to be a defect in the metre, reads—“Hides my poor heart;” and all the subsequent editors have adopted his interpolation. Malone. I have retained the pathetic and necessary epithet poor. The line would be barbarously dissonant without it. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 798 8&lblank; a grise;] Is a step, sometimes written greese, from degres, French. Johnson. So, in Othello: “Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 799 9&lblank; 'tis a vulgar proof,] That is, it is a common proof. The experience of every day shows that, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 800 1Then westward-hoe:] This is the name of a comedy by T. Decker, 1607. He was assisted in it by Webster, and it was acted with great success by the children of Paul's, on whom Shakspeare has bestowed such notice in Hamlet, that we may be sure they were rivals to the company patronized by himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 801 2O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip!] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 802 3&lblank; maugre &lblank;] i. e. in spite of. So, in David and Bethsabe, 1599: “Maugre the sons of Ammon and of Syria.” Steevens.

Note return to page 803 4And that no woman has;] And that heart and bosom I have never yielded to any woman. Johnson.

Note return to page 804 5&lblank; save I alone.] These three words Sir Thomas Hanmer gives to Olivia probably enough. Johnson.

Note return to page 805 6Did she see thee the while,] Thee is wanting in the old copy. It was supplied by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 806 7&lblank; as lief be a Brownist.] The Brownists were so called from Mr. Robert Browne, a noted separatist in Queen Elizabeth's reign. [See Strype's Annals of Queen Elizabeth, vol. iii. p. 15, 16, &c.] In his life of Whitgift, p. 323, he informs us, that Browne, in the year 1589, “went off from the separation, and came into the communion of the church.” This Browne was descended from an ancient and honourable family in Rutlandshire; his grandfather Francis had a charter granted him by K. Henry VIII. and confirmed by act of parliament; giving him leave “to put on his hat in the presence of the king, or his heirs, or any lord spiritual or temporal in the land, and not to put it off, but for his own ease and pleasure.” Neal's History of New-England, vol. i. p. 58. Grey. This was not a very extraordinary privilege. In a Booke of Presidentes, printed by Richard Tottyl, 1569, fo. 120, we meet with this form: “A lycence for a man to keepe on his cappe.” Boswell. The Brownists seem, in the time of our author, to have been the constant objects of popular satire. In the old comedy of Ram-Alley, 1611, is the following stroke at them: “&lblank; of a new sect, and the good professors will, like the Brownist, frequent gravel-pits shortly, for they use woods and obscure holes already.” Again, in Love and Honour, by Sir W. D'Avenant: “Go kiss her:—by this hand, a Brownist is “More amorous &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 8&lblank; in a martial hand; be curst &lblank;] Martial hand, seems to be a careless scrawl, such as shewed the writer to neglect ceremony. Curst, is petulant, crabbed. A curst cur, is a dog that with little provocation snarls and bites. Johnson.

Note return to page 808 9&lblank; taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice,] There is no doubt, I think, but this passage is one of those in which our author intended to shew his respect for Sir Walter Raleigh, and a detestation of the virulence of his prosecutors. The words quoted, seem to me directly levelled at the Attorney-General Coke, who, in the trial of Sir Walter, attacked him with all the following indecent expressions:—“All that he did was by thy instigation, thou viper; for I thou thee, thou traytor!” (Here, by the way, are the poet's three thou's.) “You are an odious man.”—“Is he base? I return it into thy throat, on his behalf.”—“O damnable atheist.”—“Thou art a monster; thou hast an English face, but a Spanish heart.”—“Thou hast a Spanish heart, and thyself art a spider of hell.”—“Go to, I will lay thee on thy back for the confident'st traytor that ever came at a bar,” &c. Is not here all the licence of tongue, which the poet satirically prescribes to Sir Andrew's ink? And how mean an opinion Shakspeare had of these petulant invectives, is pretty evident from his close of this speech: “Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write it with a goose-pen, no matter.”—A keener lash at the attorney for a fool, than all the contumelies the attorney threw at the prisoner, as a supposed traytor! Theobald. The same expression occurs in Shirley's Opportunity, 1640: “Does he thou me? “How would he domineer, an he were duke!” The resentment of our author, as Dr. Farmer observes to me, might likewise have been excited by the contemptuous manner in which Lord Coke has spoken of players, and the severity he was always willing to exert against them. Thus, in his Speech and Charge at Norwich, with a Discoverie of the Abuses and Corruption of Officers. Nath. Butter, 4to. 1607: “Because I must hast unto an end, I will request that you will carefully put in execution the statute against vagrants; since the making whereof I have found fewer theeves, and the gaole lesse pestered than before. “The abuse of stage-players wherewith I find the country much troubled, may easily be reformed; they having no commission to play in any place without leave: and therefore, if by your willingnesse they be not entertained, you may soone be rid of them.” Steevens. Though I think it probable Lord Coke might have been in Shakspeare's mind when he wrote the above passage, yet it is by no means certain. It ought to be observed, that the conduct of that great lawyer, bad as it was on this occasion, received too much countenance from the practice of his predecessors, both at the bar and on the bench. The State Trials will shew, to the disgrace of the profession, that many other criminals were thou'd by their prosecutors and judges, besides Sir Walter Raleigh. In Knox's History of the Reformation, are eighteen articles exhibited against Master George Wischarde, 1546, every one of which begins— “thou false heretick,” and sometimes with the addition of “thief, traitor, runagate,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 809 1&lblank; at the cubiculo:] I believe we should read—“at thy cubiculo.” Malone.

Note return to page 810 2Oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together.] So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Loyal Subject: “A coach and four horses cannot draw me from it.” Boswell.

Note return to page 811 3And his opposite,] Opposite in our author's time was used as a substantive, and synonymous to adversary. See before p. 425. Malone.

Note return to page 812 4Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.] The women's parts were then acted by boys, sometimes so low in stature, that there was occasion to obviate the impropriety by such kind of oblique apologies. Warburton. The wren generally lays nine or ten eggs at a time, and the last hatched of all birds are usually the smallest and weakest of the whole brood. So, in A Dialogue of the Phœnix, &c. by R. Chester, 1601: “The little wren that many young ones brings.” Again, in A Mery Play betwene Johan the Husband, Tyb his Wyfe, &c. fol. Rastel, 1533: “Syr, that is the lest care I have of nyne.” The old copy, however, reads—“wren of mine.” Steevens. Again, in Sir Philip Sidney's Ourania, a poem, by N. Breton, 1606: “The titmouse, and the multiplying wren.” The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 813 5He does smile his face into more lines, than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies:] A clear allusion to a Map engraved for Linschoten's Voyages, an English translation of which was published in 1598. This Map is multilineal in the extreme, and is the first in which the Eastern Islands are included. Steevens.

Note return to page 814 6I know, my lady will strike him;] We may suppose, that in an age when ladies struck their servants, the box on the ear which Queen Elizabeth is said to have given to the Earl of Essex, was not regarded as a transgression against the rules of common behaviour. Steevens.

Note return to page 815 6And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns &lblank;] The old copy reads— “And thankes: and euer oft good turnes &lblank;.” Steevens. The second line is too short by a whole foot. Then, who ever heard of this goodly double adverb, ever-oft, which seems to have as much propriety as always-sometimes? As I have restored the passage, it is very much in our author's manner and mode of expression. So, in Cymbeline: “Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “And let me buy your friendly help thus far, “Which I will over-pay, and pay again “When I have found it.” Theobald. I have changed the punctuation, Such liberties every editor has occasionally taken. Theobald has completed the line, as follows: “And thanks and ever thanks, and oft good turns.” I read—often instead of oft, to complete the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 816 7But, were my worth,] Worth, in this place means wealth or fortune. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; and he boasts himself “To have a worthy feeding.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels: “Such as the satyrist paints truly forth, “That only to his crimes owes all his worth.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 817 8&lblank; the reliques of this town?] I suppose, Sebastian means, the reliques of saints, or the remains of ancient fabricks. Steevens. These words are explained by what follows: “Let us satisfy our eyes “With the memorials, and the things of fame, “That do renown this city.” Malone.

Note return to page 818 9&lblank; the Count his gallies,] I suspect our author wrote— county's gallies, i. e. the gallies of the county, or count; and that the transcriber's ear deceived him. However, as the present reading is conformable to the mistaken grammatical usage of the time, I have not disturbed the text. Malone.

Note return to page 819 1&lblank; He says, he'll come;] i. e. I suppose now, or admit now, he says, he'll come. Warburton.

Note return to page 820 2&lblank; what bestow on him?] The old copy reads—“bestow of him,” a vulgar corruption of—on. Steevens. Of, is very commonly, in the North, still used for on. Henley.

Note return to page 821 3&lblank; sad, and civil,] i. e. solemn and grave. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; Come civil night, “Thou sober-suited matron, all in black.” Malone. So, in As You Like It: “Tongues I'll hang on every tree, “That shall civil sayings show &lblank;.” See note on that passage, vol. vi. p. 424. Again, in Decker's Villanies Discovered by Lanthorne and Candlelight, &c. 1616: “If before she ruffled in silkes, now is she more civilly attired than a mid-wife.” Again—“civilly suited, that they might carry about them some badge of a scholler.” Again, in David Rowland's translation of Lazarillo de Tormes, 1586: “&lblank; he throwing his cloake ouer his leaft shoulder very civilly,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 822 4But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd.] The old copy reads— “But in very strange manner. He is sure possess'd, madam.” For the sake of metre, I have omitted the unnecessary words— very and madam. Steevens.

Note return to page 823 5Were best have guard about you, if he come;] The old copy, redundantly, and without addition to the sense, reads— “Were best to have some guard,” &c. Steevens. I have printed this speech as prose, according to the old copy. Boswell.

Note return to page 824 6&lblank; kiss thy hand so oft?] This fantastical custom is taken notice of by Barnaby Riche, in Faults and Nothing but Faults, 4to. 1606, p. 6: “&lblank; and these Flowers of Courtesie, as they are full of affectation, so are they no less formall in their speeches, full of fustian phrases, many times delivering such sentences, as do betray and lay open their masters' ignorance: and they are so frequent with the kisse on the hand, that word shall not passe their mouthes, till they have clapt their fingers over their lippes.” Reed.

Note return to page 825 7&lblank; midsummer madness.] Hot weather often hurts the brain, which is, I suppose, alluded to here. Johnson. “'Tis midsummer moon with you,” is a proverb in Ray's Collection; signifying, you are mad. Steevens.

Note return to page 826 8&lblank; be opposite with a kinsman,] Opposite, here, as in many other places, means—adverse, hostile. Malone. So, in King Lear: “Thou wast not bound to answer “An unknown opposite.” Steevens.

Note return to page 827 9&lblank; let thy tongue tang, &c.] Here the old copy reads— langer; but it should be—tang, as I have corrected it from the letter which Malvolio reads in a former scene. Steevens. The second folio reads—tang. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 828 1I have limed her;] I have entangled or caught her, as a bird is caught with birdlime. Johnson.

Note return to page 829 2Fellow!] This word, which originally signified companion, was not yet totally degraded to its present meaning; and Malvolio takes it in the favourable sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 830 3&lblank; enemy to mankind.] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; mine eternal jewel, “Given to the common enemy of man,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 831 4Ay, Biddy, come with me.] Come, Bid, come, are words of endearment used by children to chickens and other domestick fowl. An anonymous writer, with little probability, supposes the words in the text to be a quotation from some old song. Malone.

Note return to page 832 5&lblank; cherry-pit &lblank;] Cherry-pit is pitching cherry-stones into a little hole. Nash, speaking of the paint on ladies' faces, says: “You may play at cherry-pit in their cheeks.” So, in a comedy called the Isle of Gulls, 1606: “&lblank; if she were here, I would have a bout at cobnut or cherry-pit.” Again, in The Witch of Edmonton: “I have lov'd a witch ever since I play'd at cherry-pit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 833 6Hang him, foul collier!] Collier was, in our author's time, a term of the highest reproach. So great were the impositions practised by the venders of coals, that R. Greene, at the conclusion of his Notable Discovery of Cozenage, 1592, has published what he calls, A Pleasant Discovery of the Cozenage of Colliers. Steevens. The devil is called Collier for his blackness: “Like Will to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier.” Johnson.

Note return to page 834 6&lblank; a finder of madmen.] This is, I think, an allusion to the witch-finders, who were very busy. Johnson. If there be any doubt whether a culprit is become non compos mentis, after indictment, conviction, or judgment, the matter is tried by a jury; and if he be found either an ideot or lunatick, the lenity of the English law will not permit him, in the first case, to be tried, in the second, to receive judgment, or in the third, to be executed. In other cases also inquests are held for the finding of madmen. Malone. Finders of madmen must have been those who acted under the writ ‘De lunatico inquirendo;’ in virtue whereof they found the man mad. It does not appear that a finder of madmen was ever a profession, which was most certainly the case with witch-finders. Ritson.

Note return to page 835 7More matter for a May morning.] It was usual on the first of May to exhibit metrical interludes of the comic kind, as well as the morris-dance, of which a plate is given at the end of The First Part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's observations on it. Steevens.

Note return to page 836 8He may have mercy upon mine;] We may read—“He may have mercy upon thine, but my hope is better.” Yet the passage may well enough stand without alteration. It were much to be wished that Shakspeare, in this, and some other passages, had not ventured so near profaneness. Johnson. The present reading is more humorous than that suggested by Johnson. The man on whose soul he hopes that God will have mercy, is the one that he supposes will fall in the combat: but Sir Andrew hopes to escape unhurt, and to have no present occasion for that blessing. The same idea occurs in Henry V. where Mrs. Quickly, giving an account of poor Falstaff's dissolution, says: “Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 837 9&lblank; swear horrible:] Adjectives are often used by our author and his contemporaries, adverbially. See vol. x. p. 438. Malone.

Note return to page 838 1&lblank; too unchary out:] The old copy reads—on't. The emendation is Mr. Theobald's. Malone.

Note return to page 839 2&lblank; wear this jewel for me,] Jewel does not properly signify a single gem, but any precious ornament or superfluity. Johnson. So, in Markham's Arcadia, 1607: “She gave him a very fine jewel, wherein was set a most rich diamond.” See also Mr. T. Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. p. 121. Steevens.

Note return to page 840 3&lblank; thy intercepter,] Thus the old copy. Most of the modern editors read—interpreter. Steevens.

Note return to page 841 4He is knight, dubbed with unhatch'd rapier, and on carpet consideration;] That is, he is no soldier by profession, not a knight banneret, dubbed in the field of battle, but, on carpet consideration, at a festivity, or on some peaceable occasion, when knights receive their dignity kneeling, not on the ground, as in war, but on a carpet. This is, I believe, the original of the contemptuous term a carpet knight, who was naturally held in scorn by the men of war. Johnson. In Francis Markham's Booke of Honour, fo. 1625, p. 71, we have the following account of Carpet Knights: “Next unto these (i. e. those he distinguishes by the title of Dunghill or Truck Knights) in degree, but not in qualitie, (for these are truly for the most part vertuous and wirthie) is that rank of Knights which are called Carpet Knights, being men who are by the prince's grace and favour made knights at home and in the time of peace by the imposition or laying on of the king's sword, having by some special service done to the common-wealth, or for some other particular virtues made known to the soveraigne, as also for the dignitie of their births, and in recompence of noble and famous actions done by their ancestors, deserved this great title and dignitie.” He then enumerates the several orders of men on whom this honour was usually conferred; and adds—“those of the vulgar or common sort are called Carpet Knights, because (for the most part) they receive their honour from the king's hand in the court, and upon carpets, and such like ornaments belonging to the king's state and greatnesse; which howsoever a curious envie may wrest to an ill sense, yet questionlesse there is no shadow of disgrace belonging unto it, for it is an honour as perfect as any honour whatsoever, and the services and merits for which it is received, as worthy and well deserving both of the king and country, as that which hath wounds and scarres for his witnesse.” Reed. Greene uses the term—Carpet-knights, in contempt of those of whom he is speaking; and, in The Downful of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601, it is employed for the same purpose: “&lblank; soldier, come away: “This Carpet-knight sits carping at our scars.” In Barrett's Alvearie, 1580: “&lblank; those which do not exercise themselves with some honest affaires, but serve abhominable and filthy idleness, are, as we use to call them, Carpet-knightes.” B. ante O. Again, among Sir John Harrington's Epigrams, b. iv. Ep. 6, Of Merit and Demerit: “That captaines in those days were not regarded, “That only Carpet-knights were well rewarded.” The old copy reads—unhatch'd rapier; but a passage in King Henry IV. Part I. may serve to confirm the reading in the text: “How came Falstaff's sword so hack'd?—Why, he hack'd it with his dagger.” Steevens. “&lblank; with unhatch'd rapier,” The modern editors read—unhack'd. It appears from Cotgrave's Dictionary in v. hacher, [to hack, hew, &c.] that to hatch the hilt of a sword, was a technical term. Perhaps we ought to read—with an hatch'd rapier, i. e. with a rapier, the hilt of which was richly engraved and ornamented. Our author, however, might have used unhatch'd in the sense of unhack'd; and therefore I have made no change. Malone.

Note return to page 842 5&lblank; hob, nob,] This adverb is corrupted from hap ne hap; as would ne would, will ne will; that is, let it happen or not; and signifies at random, at the mercy of chance. See Johnson's Dictionary. So, in Lyly's Euphues and his England, 4to. bl. l. 1580; “Thus Philautus determined, hab nab, to send his letters,” &c. Steevens. Is not this the origin of our hob nob, or challenge to drink a glass of wine at dinner? The phrase occurs in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “I put it “Ev'n to your worship's bitterment, hab nab. “I shall have a chance o' the dice for't, I hope.” M. Mason. So, in Holinshed's Hist. of Ireland: “The citizens in their rage —shot habbe or nabbe, at random.” Malone.

Note return to page 843 *First folio, computent.

Note return to page 844 6&lblank; meddle &lblank;] Is here perhaps used in the same sense as the French mêlée. Steevens. Afterwards, Sir Andrew says—“Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.” The vulgar yet say, “I'll neither meddle nor make with it.” Malone.

Note return to page 845 7Why, man, he's a very devil, &c.] Shakspeare might have caught a hint for this scene from Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, which was printed in 1609. The behaviour of Viola and Ague-cheek appears to have been formed on that of Sir John Daw and Sir Amorous La Foole. Steevens.

Note return to page 846 8I have not seen such a virago.] Virago cannot be properly used here, unless we suppose Sir Toby to mean, I never saw one that had so much the look of woman with the prowess of man. Johnson. The old copy reads—firago. A virago always means a female warrior, or, in low language, a scold, or turbulent woman. In Heywood's Golden Age, 1611, Jupiter enters “like a nymph or virago;” and says, “I may pass for a bona-robe, a rounceval, a virago, or a good manly lass.” If Shakspeare (who knew Viola to be a woman, though Sir Toby did not,) has made no blunder, Dr. Johnson has supplied the only obvious meaning of the word. Firago may however be a ludicrous term of Shakspeare's coinage. Steevens. Why may not the meaning be more simple, “I have never seen the most furious woman so obstreperous and violent as he is?” I do not conceive that firago was a word of Shakspeare's coinage, but a common corruption for virago, like fagaries for vagaries. Malone.

Note return to page 847 9&lblank; the stuck &lblank;] The stuck is a corrupted abbreviation of the stoccata, an Italian term in fencing. So, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Here's a fellow, Judicio, that carried the deadly stock in his pen.” Again, in Marston's Mal-content, 1604: “The close stock, O mortal,” &c. Again, in Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “I would pass on him with a mortal stock.” Steevens. Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; thy stock, thy reverse, thy montánt.” Malone.

Note return to page 848 1&lblank; he pays you &lblank;] i. e. hits you. Malone.

Note return to page 849 2He is as horribly conceited of him;] That is, he has as horrid an idea or conception of him. Malone.

Note return to page 850 3&lblank; by the duello &lblank;] i. e. by the laws of the duello, which, in Shakspeare's time, were settled with the utmost nicety. Steevens.

Note return to page 851 4Nay, if you be an undertaker,] But why was an undertaker so offensive a character? I believe this is “a touch upon the times,” which may help to determine the date of this play. At the meeting of the parliament in 1614, there appears to have been a very general persuasion, or jealousy at least, that the King had been induced to call a parliament at that time, by certain persons, who had undertaken, through their influence in the House of Commons, to carry things according to his Majesty's wishes. These persons were immediately stigmatized with the invidious name of undertakers; and the idea was so unpopular, that the King thought it necessary, in two set speeches, to deny positively (how truly is another question) that there had been, any such undertaking. Parl. Hist. vol. v. p. 277, and 286. Sir Francis Bacon also (then attorney-general) made an artful, apologetical speech in the House of Commons upon the same subject; “when the house (according to the title of the speech) was in great heat, and much troubled about the undertakers.” Bacon's Works, vol. ii. p. 236, 4to. edit. Tyrwhitt. Undertakers were persons employed by the King's purveyors to take up provisions for the royal household, and were no doubt exceedingly odious. But still, I think, the speaker intends a quibble; the simple meaning of the word being one who undertakes, or takes up the quarrel or business of another. Ritson. I am of Ritson's opinion, that by an undertaker Sir Toby means a man who takes upon himself the quarrel of another. Mr. Tyrwhitt's explanation is too learned to be just, and was probably suggested by his official situation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 852 5My having is not much.] Having is frequently used by Shakspeare for fortune, possessions. Malone.

Note return to page 853 5&lblank; o'erflourish'd by the devil.] In the time of Shakspeare, trunks, which are now deposited in lumber-rooms, or other obscure places, were part of the furniture of apartments in which company was received. I have seen more than one of these, as old as the time of our poet. They were richly ornamented on the tops and sides with scroll-work, emblematical devices, &c. and were elevated on feet. Shakspeare has the same expression in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; your title to him “Doth flourish the deceit &lblank;.” Steevens. Again, in his 60th Sonnet: “Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth.” Malone.

Note return to page 854 6&lblank; so do not I.] This, I believe, means, I do not yet believe myself, when, from this accident, I gather hope of my brother's life. Johnson.

Note return to page 855 7&lblank; I my brother know Yet living in my glass;] I suppose Viola means—“As often as I behold myself in my glass, I think I see my brother alive;” i. e. I acknowledge that his resemblance survives in the reflection of my own figure. Steevens.

Note return to page 856 8Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, &c.] This affected word seems to have been in use in Shakspeare's time. In Melvil's Memoirs, p. 198, we have “My Lord Lindsay vented himself that he was one of the number,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 857 9I am afraid this great lubber,] That is, affectation and foppery will overspread the world. Johnson.

Note return to page 858 1&lblank; prove a cockney.] So, in A Knight's Conjuring, by Decker: “&lblank; 'tis not their fault, but our mothers', our cockering mothers, who for their labour make us to be called Cockneyes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 859 2I pr'ythee, foolish Greek,] Greek, was as much as to say bawd or pander. He understood the Clown to be acting in that office. A bawdy-house was called Corinth, and the frequenters of it Corinthians, which words frequently occur in Shakspeare, especially in Timon of Athens, and Henry IV. Yet the Oxford editor alters it to Geck. Warburton. “Foolish Greek,” means certainly nothing more than foolish jester; pergræcor, is translated by Coles, to revel, to play the merry Greek or boon companion. Malone.

Note return to page 860 3&lblank; get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.] This seems to carry a piece of satire upon monopolies, the crying grievance of that time. The grants generally were for fourteen years; and the petitions being referred to a committee, it was suspected that money gained favourable reports from thence. Warburton. Perhaps “fourteen years' purchase” was, in Shakspeare's time, the highest price for land. Lord Bacon's Essay on Usury mentions sixteen years purchase. “I will not give more than according to fifteen years purchase, said a dying usurer to a clergyman, who advised him to study for a purchase of the kingdom of heaven.” Tollet. Mr. Heath thinks the meaning is, “&lblank; purchase a good report [or character] at a very extravagant price.” Malone. Dr. Warburton's conjecture that there is here a reference to monopolies, is, I believe, unfounded. Mr. Tollett and Mr. Heath are probably right. Sir Josiah Child, in his Discourse on Trade, says, “certainly anno 1621, the current price of lands in England was twelve years purchase; and so I have been assured by many ancient men whom I have questioned particularly as to this matter; and I find it so by purchases made about that time by my own relations and acquaintance.” Sir Thomas Culpepper, senior, who wrote in 1621, affirms, “that land was then at twelve years purchase.” Reed.

Note return to page 861 4In this uncivil and unjust extent &lblank;] Extent is, in law, a writ of execution, whereby goods are seized for the King. It is therefore taken here for violence in general. Johnson.

Note return to page 862 5This ruffian hath botch'd up,] A coarse expression for made up, as a bad tailor is called a botcher, and to botch is to make clumsily. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is certainly right. A similar expression occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; if you'll patch a quarrel, “As matter whole, you've not to make it with.” Again, in King Henry V.: “Do botch and bungle up damnation.” Steevens.

Note return to page 863 6He started one poor heart of mine in thee.] I know not whether here be not an ambiguity intended between heart and hart. The sense however is easy enough. “He that offends thee, attacks one of my hearts;” or, as the ancients expressed it, “half my heart.” Johnson. The equivoque suggested by Dr. Johnson was, I have no doubt intended. Heart in our author's time was frequently written hart; and Shakspeare delights in playing on these words. Malone.

Note return to page 864 7What relish is in this?] How does this taste? What judgment am I to make of it? Johnson.

Note return to page 865 8&lblank; sir Topas &lblank;] The name of Sir Topas is taken from Chaucer. Steevens.

Note return to page 866 9&lblank; I will dissemble myself &lblank;] i. e. disguise myself. Malone. Shakspeare has here stumbled on a Latinism: Thus Ovid, speaking of Achilles: Veste virum longa dissimulatus erat. Steevens.

Note return to page 867 1I am not fat enough to become the function well;] The old copy reads—“tall enough:” but this cannot be right. The word wanted should be part of the description of “a careful man.” I should have no objection to read—pale. Tyrwhitt. “Not tall enough,” perhaps means “not of sufficient height to overlook a pulpit.” Dr. Farmer would read fat instead of tall, the former of these epithets, in his opinion, being referable to the following words—“a good housekeeper.” Steevens.

Note return to page 868 2&lblank; as to say, a careful man, and a great scholar.] This refers to what went before: “I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good student:” it is plain then Shakspeare wrote:—“as to say a graceful man,” i. e. comely. To this the Oxford editor says, rectè. Warburton. A careful man, I believe, means a man who has such a regard for his character, as to intitle him to ordination. Steevens.

Note return to page 869 3The competitors enter.] That is, the confederates or associates. The word competitor is used in the same sense in Richard III. and in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, vol. iv. p. 61. M. Mason.

Note return to page 870 4&lblank; the old hermit of Prague,] This refers to a real personage. Steevens.

Note return to page 871 5&lblank; very wittily said &lblank; That, that is, is:] This is a very humorous banter of the rules established in the schools, that all reasonings are ex præcognitis et præconcessis, which lay the foundation of every science in these maxims, “whatsoever is, is; and it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be;” with much trifling of the like kind. Warburton.

Note return to page 872 6&lblank; that house &lblank;] That mansion, in which you are now confined. The Clown gives this pompous appellation to the small room in which Malvolio, we may suppose, was confined, to exasperate him. The word it in the Clown's next speech plainly means Malvolio's chamber, and confirms this interpretation. Malone.

Note return to page 873 7&lblank; it hath bay-windows &lblank;] A bay-window is the same as a bow-window; a window in a recess, or bay. See A. Wood's Life, published by T. Hearne, 1730, p. 548 and 553. The following instances may likewise support the supposition: Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson, 1600: “&lblank; retired myself into a bay-window,” &c. Again, in Stowe's Chronicle of King Henry IV.: “As Tho. Montague rested him at a bay-window, a gun was levell'd,” &c. Again, in Middleton's Women beware Women: “Tis a sweet recreation for a gentlewoman “To stand in a bay-window, and see gallants.” Chaucer, in The Assemblie of Ladies, mentions bay-windows. Again, in King Henry the Sixth's Directions for Building the Hall at King's College, Cambridge: “&lblank; on every side thereof a baie-window.” Steevens. See Minshieu's Dict. in v.: “A bay-window,—because it is builded in manner of a baie or rode for shippes, that is, round. L. Cavæ fenestræ. G. Une fenestre sort authors de la maison.” Malone. Johnson admits only bay-window into his Dictionary, and consequently considers bow-window as a vulgar corruption. Boswell.

Note return to page 874 8&lblank; the clear stories towards the south-north &lblank;] The first folio has cleere stores; which, being unintelligible, the second folio substituted clear stones, which is equally so, though this reading has been followed ever since. But the first folio is right within a single letter. Clear-story is a term in Gothick architecture, to denote the row of windows running along the upper part of a lofty hall, or of a church, over the arches of the nave: q. d. a clear story, a story without joists, rafters, or flooring. “Over each side of the nave is a row of clere-story windows.” Ormerod's Hist. of Cheshire, i. 450. Blakeway.

Note return to page 875 9&lblank; constant question.] A settled, a determinate, a regular question. Johnson. Rather, in any regular conversation, for so generally Shakspeare uses the word question. Malone.

Note return to page 876 1&lblank; to kill a woodcock,] The Clown mentions a woodcock particularly, because that bird was supposed to have very little brains, and therefore was a proper ancestor for a man out of his wits. Malone.

Note return to page 877 2Nay, I am for all waters.] A phrase taken from the actor's ability of making the audience cry either with mirth or grief. Warburton. I rather think this expression borrowed from sportsmen, and relating to the qualifications of a complete spaniel. Johnson. A cloak for all kinds of knavery; taken from the Italian proverb, Tu hai mantillo da ogni acqua. Smith. “Nay, I am for all waters.” I can turn my hand to any thing; I can assume any character I please; like a fish, I can swim equally well in all waters. Montaigne, speaking of Aristotle, says, that “he hath an oar in every water, and meddleth with all things.” Florio's translation, 1603. In Florio's Second Fruites, 1591, I find an expression more nearly resembling that of the text: “I am a knight for all saddles.” In Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, p. 27, we have almost the language of the text: “Hee is first broken to the sea in the Herringman's Skiffe or Cockboate, where having learned to brooke all waters and drinke as he can out of a tarrie canne,” &c. I do not believe that the equivoque pointed out by Mr. Mason was in our author's thoughts. Malone. The word water, as used by jewellers, denotes the colour and the lustre of diamonds, and from thence is applied, though with less propriety, to the colour and hue of other precious stones. I think that Shakspeare, in this place, alludes to this sense of the word water, not to those adopted either by Johnson or Warburton. The Clown is complimented by Sir Toby, for personating Sir Topas so exquisitely; to which he replies, that he can put on all colours, alluding to the word Topaz, which is the name of a jewel, and was also that of the Curate. M. Mason. Mr. Henley has adopted the same idea; and adds, that “the Clown in his reply plays upon the name of Topas, and intimates that he could sustain as well the character of another person, let him be called by what gem he might.” Steevens.

Note return to page 878 3Hey Robin, jolly Robin,] This song should certainly begin: “Hey, jolly Robin, tell to me   “How does thy lady do?— “My lady is unkind, perdy.—   “Alas; why is she so?” Farmer. This ingenious emendation is now superseded by the proper readings of the old song itself, which is now printed from what appears the most ancient of Dr. Harrington's poetical MSS.—The first stanza appears to be defective, and it should seem that a line is wanting, unless the four first words were lengthened in the tune. Percy. The song, thus published, runs as follows: “A Robyn,   “Jolly Robyn, “Tell me how thy leman doeth,   “And thou shalt knowe of myn. “My lady is unkynde perde.”   “Alack! why is so? “She loveth an other better than me;   “And yet she will say no,” &c. &c. See Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, fourth edit. vol. i. p. 194. I hope to be excused if I add, that I do not immediately perceive how the copy of a song so metrically imperfect as the foregoing, can be permitted to extinguish the emendation proposed by Dr. Farmer. Steevens. This song seems to be alluded to in the following passage of The Merchandises of Popish Priests, 4to. 1629, sign. F 2:— “There is no one so lively and jolly as St. Mathurine. I can best describe you this arch singer, by such common phrase as we use of him whom we see very lively and pleasantly disposed, we say this, His head is full of jolly Robbins.” Reed.

Note return to page 879 4&lblank; your five wits?] Thus the five senses were anciently called. So, in King Lear, Edgar says: “Bless thy five wits! Tom's a cold.” Again, in the old Morality of Every Man: “And remember, beaute, fyve wittes, strength, and dyscrecyon.” Steevens. The wits, Dr. Johnson somewhere [vol. vii. p. 11,] observes, were reckoned five, in analogy to the five senses. From Stephen Hawes's poem called Graunde Amoure, ch. xxiv. edit. 1554, it appears that the five wits were—“common wit, imagination, fantasy, estimation, and memory.” Wit in our author's time was the general term for the intellectual power. Malone.

Note return to page 880 5&lblank; propertied me;] They have taken possession of me, as of a man unable to look to himself. Johnson.

Note return to page 881 6Maintain no words with him,] Here the Clown in the dark acts two persons, and counterfeits, by variation of voice, a dialogue between himself and Sir Topas.—I will, sir, I will, is spoken after a pause, as if, in the mean time, Sir Topas had whispered. Johnson.

Note return to page 882 7I am shent, &c.] i. e. scolded, reproved. So, in Ascham's Report and Discourse: “A wonderfull follie in a great man himselfe, and some piece of miserie in a whole commonwealth, where fooles chiefly and flatterers may speak freely what they will; and wise men, and good men shall commonly be shent if they speak what they should.” See also note on Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 374. Reed.

Note return to page 883 8&lblank; tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?] If he was not mad, what did he counterfeit by declaring that he was not mad? The fool, who meant to insult him, I think, asks, “are you mad, or do you but counterfeit?” That is, “you look like a madman, you talk like a madman. Is your madness real, or have you any secret design in it?” This, to a man in poor Malvolio's state, was a severe taunt. Johnson. The meaning of this passage appears to me to be this. Malvolio had assured the Clown that he was as well in his senses as any man in Illyria; and the Clown in reply asks him this provoking question: “Is it true that you are really not mad?” that is, that you are really in your right senses, or do you only pretend to be so? M. Mason. Dr. Johnson, in my apprehension, misinterprets the words, “&lblank; do you but counterfeit?” They surely mean, “do you but counterfeit madness,” or, in other words, “assume the appearance of a madman, though not one.” Our author ought, I think, to have written either, “&lblank; are you mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?” or else, “&lblank; are you not mad indeed, and do you but counterfeit?” But I do not suspect any corruption; for the last I have no doubt was what he meant, though he has not expressed his meaning accurately. He is often careless in such minute matters. Mr. Mason's interpretation removes the difficulty; but, considering the words that immediately precede, is very harsh, and appears to be inadmissible. Malone.

Note return to page 884 9Like to the old vice,] The vice was the fool of the old moralities. Some traces of this character are still preserved in puppet-shows, and by country mummers. Johnson. This character was always acted in a mask; it probably had its name from the old French word vis, for which they now use visage, though they still retain it in vis à vis, which is, literally, face to face. Steevens.

Note return to page 885 1Adieu, goodman devil.] So the old copy. The two last lines of this song have, I think, been misunderstood. They are not addressed in the first instance to Malvolio, but are quoted by the Clown, as the words, ah, ha! are, as the usual address in the old moralities to the Devil. I do not therefore suspect any corruption in the words “goodman Devil.” We have in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “No man means evil but the devil;” and in Much Ado About Nothing, “God's a good man.” The compound, good-man, is again used adjectively, and as a word of contempt, in King Lear: “Part (says Edmund to Kent and the Steward).” “With you, (replies Kent,) good-man boy, if you please.” The reason why the Vice exhorts the Devil to pare his nails, is, because the Devil was supposed from choice to keep his nails always unpared, and therefore to pare them was an affront. So, in Camden's Remaines, 1615: “I will follow mine own minde and mine old trade; “Who shall let me? the divel's nailes are unparde.” Malone. This last line has neither rhyme nor meaning. I cannot but suspect that the fool translates Malvolio's name, and says: “Adieu, goodman mean-evil.” Johnson. We have here another old catch; apparently, I think, not of Shakspeare. I am therefore willing to receive the common reading of the last line: “Adieu, goodman drivel.” The name of Malvolio seems to have been formed by an accidental transposition in the word, Malivolo. I know not whether a part of the preceding line should not be thrown into a question, “pare thy nails, dad?” In Henry V. we again meet with “this roaring devil i' th' old play; every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger.” Farmer. In the old translation of the Menæchmi, 1595, Menæchmus says to Peniculus: “Away, filthie mad drivell, away! I will talk no longer with thee.” As I cannot suppose the author of this ballad designed that devil should be the corresponding rhyme to devil, I read with Dr. Farmer, drivel. Steevens. I believe, with Johnson, that this is an allusion to Malvolio's name, but not in his reading, which destroys the metre. We should read— “Adieu, good mean-evil.” that is, good Malvolio, literally translated. M. Mason.

Note return to page 886 2Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range, &c.] i. e. I found it justified, credibly vouched. Whether the word credit will easily carry this meaning, I am doubtful. The expression seems obscure; and though I have not disturbed the text, I very much suspect that the poet wrote— “&lblank; and there I found this credent.” He uses the same term again in the very same sense in The Winter's Tale: “Then 'tis very credent, “Thou may'st cojoin with something, and thou dost,” &c. Theobald. Credit, for account, information. The Oxford editor roundly alters it to current; as he does almost every word that Shakspeare uses in an anomalous signification. Warburton. Theobald proposes to read credent, but credent does not signify justified or vouched; it means probable only, as appears from the passage he himself has quoted. Warburton says, that credit means account or information; but as I know no instance of the word's being used in that acceptation, I believe we should read, credited instead of credit. M. Mason. Credent, is creditable, not questionable. So, in Measure for Measure, Angelo says: “For my authority bears a credent bulk.” Steevens. Perhaps credit is here used for credited. So, in the first scene of this play, heat for heated; and in Hamlet, hoist for hoisted. Malone. After all, I believe the word—credit, to have been rightly understood by Dr. Warburton, though he has given no example in support of his interpretation. Dr. Robertson, speaking of some memorandums included in the Letters to Mary Queen of Scots, observes, that they were not “the credit of the bearer;” i. e. points concerning which the Queen had given him verbal instructions, or information. Credit therefore might have been the prevalent term for oral intelligence. Again, in Mr. Whitaker's Vindication of the same Queen, vol. ii. p. 145: “&lblank; these are expressly understood from the makers of the letters themselves, when they produced them at York to be ‘the credit gifin to the berar.’ This mode of referring to the credit of a bearer was no uncommon one in those times.” In this sense also it occurs in the fragment of a Letter from the Earl of Shrewsbury to Queen Elizabeth. See Lodge's Illustrations, &c. vol. ii. p. 129: “&lblank; and because Mr. Beale hys credyt ys wth yor Mate to make accompt of hyr ansure, and delyngs of Fr&ebar;che have had here, I leave all to hys reporte.” See also letter xxxiii in the Paston Collection, vol. ii. p. 41, in which credence appears to have the same meaning. Again, ibid. p. 331. Steevens.

Note return to page 887 3&lblank; all instance, all discourse,] Discourse, for reason. Warburton. Instance is example. Johnson.

Note return to page 888 4&lblank; To any other trust,] To any other belief, or confidence, to any other fixed opinion. Johnson.

Note return to page 889 5&lblank; deceivable.] Our author licentiously uses this word for deceptious. Malone.

Note return to page 890 6That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.] The old copy reads: “&lblank; But here the lady comes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 891 7Into the chantry by:] Chantries (says Cowel, in his Law Dictionary,) are usually little chapels, or particular altars, in some cathedral or parochial church; and endowed with revenues for the maintenance of one or more priests, whose office it is to sing masses for the souls of their founders, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 892 8Whiles &lblank;] Is until. The word is still so used in the northern countries. It is, I think, used in this sense in the preface to the Accidence. Johnson. Almost throughout the old copies of Shakspeare, whiles is given us instead of while. Mr. Rowe, the first reformer of his spelling, made the change. Steevens. While is used in this sense in Tarleton's Newes out of Purgatorie. See the novel at the end of the Merry Wives of Windsor, p. 206: ‘I was faine to tarrie while he was in bed and asleepe.’ Malone.

Note return to page 893 9&lblank; truth,] Truth is fidelity. Johnson.

Note return to page 894 1&lblank; heavens so shine, &c.] Alluding perhaps to a superstitious supposition, the memory of which is still preserved in a proverbial saying: “Happy is the bride upon whom the sun shines, and blessed the corpse upon which the rain falls.” Steevens.

Note return to page 895 2&lblank; conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives,] One cannot but wonder, that this passage should have perplexed the commentators. In Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, the Queen says to the Moor: “Come, let's kisse.” “Moor. Away, away.” “Queen. No, no, sayes, I; and twice away, sayes stay.” Sir Philip Sidney has enlarged upon this thought in the sixty-third stanza of his Astrophel and Stella. Farmer.

Note return to page 896 3&lblank; or the bells of St. Bennet, sir, may put you in mind;] That is, if the other arguments I have used are not sufficient, the bells of St. Bennet, &c. Malone. We should read—“as the bells of St. Bennet,” &c. instead of or. M. Mason. When in this play Shakspeare mentioned the bed of Ware, he recollected that the scene was in Illyria, and added, in England; but his sense of the same impropriety could not restrain him from the bells of St. Bennet. Johnson. Shakspeare's improprieties and anachronisms are surely venial in comparison with those of contemporary writers. Lodge, in his True Tragedies of Marius and Sylla, 1594, has mentioned the razors of Palermo and St. Paul's steeple, and has introduced a Frenchman, named Don Pedro, who, in consideration of receiving forty crowns, undertakes to poison Marius. Stanyhurst, the translator of four books of Virgil, in 1582, compares Chorœbus to a bedlamite, says, that old Priam girded on his Morglay; and makes Dido tell Æneas, that she should have been contented had she been brought to bed even of a cockney: Saltem si qua mihi de te suscepta fuisset Ante fugam soboles &lblank;. “&lblank; yf yeet soom progenye from me “Had crawl'd, by thee father'd, yf a cockney dandiprat hopthumb.” Steevens.

Note return to page 897 4&lblank; scathful &lblank;] i. e. mischievous, destructive. So, in Decker's If This Be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is In it, 1612: “He mickle scath hath done me.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “That offereth scath unto the town of Wakefield.” Steevens.

Note return to page 898 5&lblank; desperate of shame, and state,] Unattentive to his character or his condition, like a desperate man. Johnson.

Note return to page 899 6&lblank; and so dear,] Dear is immediate, consequential. So, in Hamlet: “Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 900 7&lblank; as fat and fulsome &lblank;] Fat means dull; so we say a fat-headed fellow; fat likewise means gross, and is sometimes used for obscene. Johnson.

Note return to page 901 8Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, Kill what I love;] In this simile, a particular story is presupposed, which ought to be known to show the justness and propriety of the comparison. It is taken from Heliodorus's Æthiopics, to which our author was indebted for the allusion. This Egyptian thief was Thyamis, who was a native of Memphis, and at the head of a band of robbers. Theagenes and Chariclea falling into their hands, Thyamis fell desperately in love with the lady, and would have married her. Soon after, a stronger body of robbers coming down upon Thyamis's party, he was in such fears for his mistress that he had her shut into a cave with his treasure. It was customary with those barbarians, “when they despaired of their own safety, first to make away with those whom they held dear,” and desired for companions in the next life. Thyamis, therefore, benetted round with his enemies, raging with love, jealousy, and anger, went to his cave; and calling aloud in the Egyptian tongue, so soon as he heard himself answered towards the cave's mouth by a Grecian, making to the person by the direction of her voice, he caught her by the hair with his left hand, and (supposing her to be Chariclea) with his right hand plunged his sword into her breast. Theobald. There was a translation of Heliodorus by Thomas Underdowne, of which the second edition appeared in 1587. Malone.

Note return to page 902 9That screws me from my true place &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “But screw your courage to the sticking-place.” Steevens.

Note return to page 903 1&lblank; strangle thy propriety:] Suppress, or disown thy property. Malone. So, in Macbeth: “And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.” Steevens.

Note return to page 904 2A contract of eternal bond of love,] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “The sealing day between my love and me, “For everlasting bond of fellowship.” Malone.

Note return to page 905 3&lblank; interchangement of your rings;] In our ancient marriage ceremony, the man received as well as gave a ring. Steevens.

Note return to page 906 4&lblank; case?] Case is a word used contemptuously for skin. We yet talk of a fox-case, meaning the stuffed skin of a fox. Johnson. So, in Cary's Present State of England, 1626: “Queen Elizabeth asked a knight named Young, how he liked a company of brave ladies? He answered, as I like my silver-haired conies at home: the cases are far better than the bodies.” Malone. The same story perhaps was not unknown to Burton, who, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 480, has the following passage: “For generally, as with rich furred conies, their cases are farre better than their bodies,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 907 5Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin, &c.] The old copy reads—“and a passy measures panyn.” As the u in this word is reversed, the modern editors have been contented to read—“past-measure painim.” “A passy-measure pavin” may, however, mean a “pavin danced out of time.” Sir Toby might call the surgeon by this title, because he was drunk “at a time when he should have been sober,” and in a condition to attend on the wounded knight. This dance, called the pavyn, is mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Mad Lover: “I'll pipe him such a pavan.” And, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, containing a pleasant Invective against Poets, Pipers, &c. 1579, it is enumerated as follows, among other dances: “Dumps, pavins, galliards, measures, fancyes, or newe streynes.” I do not, at last, see how the sense will completely quadrate on the present occasion. Sir W. D'Avenant, in one of his interludes, mentions “a doleful pavin.” In The Cardinal, by Shirley, 1652: “Who then shall dance the pavin with Osorio? Again, in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, by Ford, 1633: “I have seen an ass and a mule trot the Spanish pavin with a better grace.” Lastly, in Shadwell's Virtuoso, 1676: “A grave pavin or almain at which the black Tarantula only moved; it danced to it with a kind of grave motion much like the benchers at the revels.” Steevens. Bailey's Dictionary says, pavan is the lowest sort of instrumental music; and when this play was written, the pavin and the passamezzo might be in vogue only with the vulgar, as with Falstaff and Doll Tearsheet: and hence Sir Toby may mean—he is a rogue, and a mean low fellow. Tollet. Ben Jonson also mentions the pavin, and calls it a Spanish dance, Alchemist, p. 97, [Whalley's edition]; but it seems to come originally from Padua, and should rather be written pavane, as a corruption of paduana. A dance of that name (saltatio paduana) occurs in an old writer, quoted by the annotator on Rabelais, b. v. c. 30. “Passy measures” is undoubtedly a corruption, but I know not how it should be rectified. Tyrwhitt. The pavan, from pavo a peacock, is a grave and majestick dance. The method of dancing it was anciently by gentlemen dressed with a cap and sword, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by princes in their mantles, and by ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof in the dance resembled that of a peacock's tail. This dance is supposed to have been invented by the Spaniards, and its figure is given with the characters for the step, in the Orchesographia of Thoinet Arbeau. Every pavin has its galliard, a lighter kind of air, made out of the former. The courant, the jig, and the hornpipe, are sufficiently known at this day. Of the passamezzo little is to be said, except that it was a favourite air in the days of Queen Elizabeth. Ligon, in his History of Barbadoes, mentions a passamezzo galliard, which in the year 1647, a Padre in that island played to him on the lute; the very same, he says, with an air of that kind which in Shakspeare's play of Henry IV. was originally played to Sir John Falstaff and Doll Tearsheet, by Sneak, the musician, there named. This little anecdote Ligon might have by tradition; but his conclusion, that because it was played in a dramatic representation of the history of Henry IV. it must be so ancient as his time, is very idle and injudicious. Passy-measure is therefore undoubtedly a corruption from passamezzo. Sir J. Hawkins. With the help of Sir John Hawkins's explanation of passy-measure, I think I now see the meaning of this passage. The second folio reads—“after a passy measures pavin.” So that I should imagine the following regulation of the whole speech would not be far from the truth: “Then he's a rogue.” After a passy-measure or a pavin, “I hate a drunken rogue,” i. e. “next to a passy measure or a pavin,” &c. It is in character, that Sir Toby should express a strong dislike of serious dances, such as the passamezzo and the pavan are described to be. Tyrwhitt. So, in Middleton's More Dissemblers beside Women: “I can dance nothing but ill favourdly “A strain or two of passe measures galliard.” From what has been stated, I think, it is manifest that Sir Toby means only by this quaint expression, that the surgeon is a rogue, and a grave solemn coxcomb. It is one of Shakspeare's unrivalled excellencies, that his characters are always consistent. Even in drunkenness they preserve the traits which distinguished them when sober. Sir Toby, in the first Act of this play, shewed himself well acquainted with the various kinds of the dance. The editor of the second folio, who, when he does not understand any passage, generally cuts the knot, instead of untying it, arbitrarily reads—“after a passy-measures pavyn I hate a drunken rogue.” In the same manner, in the preceding speech, not thinking “an hour agone” good English, he reads—“O he's drunk, Sir Toby, above an hour agone.” There is scarcely a page of that copy in which similar interpolations may not be found. Malone. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's regulation, which appears to be well founded on one of the many judicious corrections that stamp a value on the second folio. Steevens. I should have been willing to have left the old copy without any alteration whatever. It is surely rather ludicrous to see four sober commentators gravely endeavouring to ascertain the correct meaning of what Sir Toby says when he is drunk. Boswell.

Note return to page 908 6&lblank; an ass-head, and a coxcomb, &c.] I believe, Sir Toby means to apply all these epithets either to the surgeon or Sebastian; and have pointed the passage accordingly. It has been hitherto printed, “Will you help an ass-head,” &c. but why should Sir Toby thus unmercifully abuse himself? Malone. As I cannot help thinking that Sir Toby, out of humour with himself, means to discharge these reproaches on the officious Sir Andrew, who also needs the surgeon's help, I have left the passage as I found it. Mr. Malone points it thus: “Will you help? An ass-head,” &c! Steevens.

Note return to page 909 7A natural perspective,] A perspective seems to be taken for shows exhibited through a glass with such lights as make the pictures appear really protuberant. The Duke therefore says, that nature has here exhibited such a show, where shadows seem realities; where that which is not appears like that which is. Johnson. I apprehend this may be explained by a quotation from a duodecimo book called Humane Industry, 1661, p. 76 and 77: “It is a pretty art that in a pleated paper and table furrowed or indented, men make one picture to represent several faces—that being viewed from one place or standing, did shew the head of a Spaniard, and from another, the head of an ass.”—“A picture of a chancellor of France presented to the common beholder a multitude of little faces; but if one did look on it through a perspective, there appeared only the single pourtraicture of the chancellor himself.” Thus that, which is, is not, or in a different position appears like another thing. This seems also to explain a passage in King Henry V. Act V. Sc. II.: “Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid.” Tollet. I believe Shakspeare meant nothing more by this natural perspective, than a reflection from a glass or mirror. M. Mason. Perspective certainly means a glass used for optical delusion, or a glass generally. In Franck's Northern Memoirs, p. 16, Theophilus, one of the discoursers, says—“he that reads his own heart without a perspective, reads all the world.” The book was written in 1658. Douce.

Note return to page 910 8Of charity,] i. e. out of charity, tell me, &c. So, in The Taming of The Shrew: “Now, let him speak; 'tis charity to show,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 911 1A most extracting frenzy &lblank;] i. e. a frenzy that drew me away from every thing but its own object. Warburton. I formerly supposed that Shakspeare wrote—distracting; but have since met with a passage in The Historie of Hamblet, bl. l. 1608, sig. C 2, that seems to support the reading of the old copy: “&lblank; to try if men of great account be extract out of their wits.” Malone. So, William de Wyrcester, speaking of King Henry VI. says: “&lblank; subito cecidit in gravem infirmitatem capitis, ita quod extractus à mente videbatur.” Steevens.

Note return to page 912 2&lblank; you must allow vox.] I am by no means certain that I understand this passage, which, indeed, the author of The Revisal pronounces to have no meaning. I suppose the Clown begins reading the letter in some fantastical manner, on which Olivia asks him, “if he is mad. No, madam, (says he,) I do but barely deliver the sense of this madman's epistle: if you would have it read as it ought to be, (that is,) with such a frantic accent and gesture as a madman would read it, you must allow vox,” i. e. ‘you must furnish the reader with a voice, or, in other words, read it yourself.’ But Mr. Malone's explanation, I think, is preferable to mine, Steevens. The Clown, we may presume, had begun to read the letter in a very loud tone, and probably with extravagant gesticulation. Being reprimanded by his mistress, he justifies himself by saying, “If you would have it read in character, as such a mad epistle ought to be read, you must permit me to assume a frantick tone.” Malone.

Note return to page 913 3&lblank; but to read his right wits,] To represent his present state of mind, is to read a madman's letter, as I now do, like a madman. Johnson.

Note return to page 914 4One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,] The word on't, in this place, is mere nonsense. I doubt not the poet wrote: “&lblank; an't, so please you.” Heath. This is well conjectured; but on't may relate to the double character of sister and wife. Johnson.

Note return to page 915 5So much against the mettle of your sex,] So much against the weak frame and constitution of woman. Mettle is used by our author in many other places for spirit; and as spirit may be either high or low, mettle seems here to signify natural timidity, or deficiency of spirit. Shakspeare has taken the same licence in All's Well That Ends Well: “'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her &lblank;.” i. e. the want of title. Again, in King Richard III.: “The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life &lblank;.” that is, the remission of the forfeit. Malone.

Note return to page 916 6&lblank; lighter &lblank;] People of less dignity or importance. Johnson.

Note return to page 917 7&lblank; geck,] A fool. Johnson. So, in the vision at the conclusion of Cymbeline: “And to become the geck and scorn   “Of th' other's villainy.” Again, in Ane Verie Excellent and Delectabill Treatise intitulit Philotus, &c. 1603: “Thocht he be auld, my joy, quhat reck, “When he is gane give him ane geck, “And take another be the neck.” Again: “The carle that hecht sa weill to treat you, “I think sall get ane geck.” Steevens.

Note return to page 918 8&lblank; then cam'st in smiling,] i. e. then, that thou cam'st in smiling. Malone. I believe the lady means only what she has clearly expressed: “&lblank; then thou camest in smiling;” not that she had been informed of this circumstance by Maria. Maria's account, in short, was justified by the subsequent appearance of Malvolio. Steevens.

Note return to page 919 9&lblank; here were presuppos'd &lblank;] Presuppos'd, for imposed. Warburton. Presuppos'd rather seems to mean previously pointed out for thy imitation; or such as it was supposed thou would'st assume after thou hadst read the letter. The supposition was previous to the act. Steevens.

Note return to page 920 1Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceiv'd against him:] Surely we should rather read—“conceiv'd in him.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 921 2&lblank; at Sir Toby's great importance;] Importance is importunacy, importunement. Steevens.

Note return to page 922 3Alas, poor fool!] See notes on King Lear, Act V. Sc. III. Reed.

Note return to page 923 4&lblank; how have they baffled thee?] See Mr. Tollet's note on a passage in the first scene of the first Act of King Richard II.: “I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 924 5But do you remember? Madam,] In the old copy: “But do you remember, madam? Why,” &c. I have followed the regulation recommended by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Malone. As the Clown is speaking to Malvolio, and not to Olivia, I think this passage should be regulated thus—“but do you remember? —Madam, why laugh you,” &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 925 6&lblank; and entreat him to a peace:] Thus in Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen: “&lblank; Go take her, “And fluently persuade her to a peace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 926 7&lblank; convents,] Perhaps we should read—consents. To convent, however, is to assemble; and therefore, the count may mean, when the happy hour calls us again together. Steevens. “&lblank; convents,” i. e. shall serve, agree, be convenient. Douce.

Note return to page 927 8When that I was and a little tiny boy, &c.] Here again we have an old song, scarcely worth correction. Gainst knaves and thieves must evidently be, against knave and thief. When I was a boy, my folly and mischievous actions were little regarded; but when I came to manhood, men shut their gates against me, as a knave and a thief. Sir Thomas Hanmer rightly reduces the subsequent words, beds and heads, to the singular number; and a little alteration is still wanting at the beginning of some of the stanzas. Mr. Steevens observes in a note at the end of Much Ado About Nothing, that the play had formerly passed under the name of Benedict and Beatrix. It seems to have been the court-fashion to alter the titles. A very ingenious lady, with whom I have the honour to be acquainted, Mrs. Askew of Queen's-Square, has a fine copy of the second folio edition of Shakspeare, which formerly belonged to King Charles I. and was a present from him to Sir Thomas Herbert. Sir Thomas has altered five titles in the list of the plays, to “Benedick and Beatrice,—Pyramus and Thisby,— Rosalinde,—Mr. Paroles,—and Malvolio.” It is lamentable to see how far party and prejudice will carry the wisest men, even against their own practice and opinions. Milton, in his &grE;&gri;&grx;&gro;&grn;&gro;&grk;&grl;&gra;&grs;&grt;&grh;&grst;, censures King Charles for reading “one whom (says he) we well knew was the closet companion of his solitudes, William Shakspeare.” Farmer. I have followed the regulations proposed by Sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Farmer; and consequently, instead of knaves, thieves, beds, and heads, have printed knave, thief, &c. Dr. Farmer might have observed, that the alterations of the titles are in his Majesty's own hand-writing, materially differing from Sir Thomas Herbert's, of which the same volume affords more than one specimen. I learn from another manuscript note in it, that John Lowine acted King Henry VIII. and John Taylor the part of Hamlet. The book is now in my possession. To the concluding remark of Dr. Farmer, may be added the following passage from An Appeal to all Rational Men concerning King Charles's Trial, by John Cooke, 1649: “Had he but studied scripture half so much as Ben Jonson or Shakspeare, he might have learnt that when Amaziah was settled in the kingdom, he suddenly did justice upon those servants which killed his father Joash,” &c. With this quotation I was furnished by Mr. Malone. A quarto volume of plays attributed to Shakspeare, with the cypher of King Charles II. on the back of it, is preserved in Mr. Garrick's collection. Though we are well convinced that Shakspeare has written slight ballads for the sake of discriminating characters more strongly, or for other necessary purposes, in the course of his mixed dramas, it is scarce credible, that after he had cleared his stage, he should exhibit his Clown afresh, and with so poor a recommendation as this song, which is utterly unconnected with the subject of the preceding comedy. I do not therefore hesitate to call the non-sensical ditty before us, some buffoon actor's composition, which was accidentally tacked to the prompter's copy of Twelfth-Night, having been casually subjoined to it for the diversion, or at the call, of the lowest order of spectators. In the year 1766, I saw the late Mr. Weston summoned out and obliged to sing Johnny Pringle and his Pig, after the performance of Voltaire's Mahomet, at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane. Steevens. I have retained the old reading knaves and thieves; it seems to me to be much more in the style of the Clown, who is much of a philosopher, and is fond of dealing in general observations. Mr. Steevens's fastidious reflection of this song is in the same spirit which has led him to object to the concluding scene of Pandarus in Troilus and Cressida; and might equally have led him, had he been consistent, to have regarded the songs at the end of Love's Labour's Lost as spurious. The charge brought against Milton by Dr. Farmer has been, in my opinion, most satisfactorily shown to be erroneous in the following modest and sensible remarks by the late Mr. Waldron in a note to his edition of Roscius Anglicamus, 1789. “If Milton merit the above eulogy, the slightest endeavour to clear him from any unfavourable imputation is surely commendable; the attempt is the more necessary when objections fall from such pens as cannot be influenced by any motives, excepting a love of truth, and a desire to do justice: But it is more particularly requisite, when probity and candour are guided in their decisions by learning and penetration. An attempt to controvert an opinion so founded is certainly an arduous one; but, as it is made with every possible deference to the judgments it presumes, in this instance, to dissent from, any further apology would be but mock humility. “The following passages are adverted to. “‘It is lamentable to see how far party and prejudice will carry the wisest men, even against their own practice and opinions. Milton in his &grE;&gri;&grk;&gro;&grn;&gro;&grk;&grl;&graa;&grs;&grt;&grh;&grst; censures King Charles for reading, ‘one whom,’ says he, ‘we well knew was the closet companion of his solitudes, William Shakspeare.’ Farmer. “‘To read and amuse himself with the writings of Shakspeare, the great Milton most shamefully charged upon Charles as a crime: though Milton himself was a professed admirer of our great bard. Such is the malignant spirit of party! and so little able are the noblest minds to resist its influence!’ “Davies's Dramatick Miscellanies, 1784, vol. i. p. 323. “‘Milton's writings afford a striking example of the strength and weakness of the same mind. His finest feelings, his warmest poetical predilections, were at last totally obliterated by civil and religious enthusiasm. Seduced by the gentle eloquence of fanaticism, he listened no longer to the ‘wild and native woodnotes of fancy's sweetest child.’ In his Iconoclastes, he censures King Charles for studying, ‘one whom we well know was the closet-companion of his solitudes, William Shakspeare.’ “Prose-works, vol. i. p. 368. “‘This remonstrance, which not only resulted from his abhorrence of a King, but from his disapprobation of plays, would have come with propriety from Prynne or Hugh Peters. Nor did he now perceive, that what was here spoken in contempt, conferred the highest compliment on the elegance of Charles's private character.’ “Warton's Milton, 1785, p. 437, N. 41. “Without entering into the argument, pro or con Royalists or Republicans, it is doing Milton but justice to say he is entirely innocent of the charge brought against him by Dr. Farmer, repeated by Mr. Davies, and enforced by Mr. Warton; he does not censure Charles for reading and amusing himself with the writings of Shakspeare, but for imitating the hypocrisy of Richard, as drawn by our dramatic historian, so closely, that in the passage animadverted on he utters the very sentiment put into Richard's mouth by the poet. “‘&lblank; the deepest policy of a Tyrant hath bin ever to counterfet Religious. And Aristotle in his Politics, hath mentioned that special craft among twelve other tyrannical Sophisms. Neither want wee examples. Andronicus Comnenus the Byzantine Emperor, though a most cruel Tyrant, is reported by Nicetas to have bin a constant reader of Saint Pauls Epistles: and by continual study had so incorporated the phrase and stile of that transcendent Apostle into all his familiar Letters, that the imitation seemed to vie with the original. “‘Yet this availed not to deceave the people of that empire; who notwithstanding his Saints vizard, tore him to peeces for his Tyranny. From Stories of this nature both Ancient and Modern which abound, the Poets also, and some English, have bin in this point so mindfull of Decorum, as to put never more pious words in the mouth of any person, then of a Tyrant. I shall not instance an abstruse Author, wherein the King might be less conversant, but one whom wee well know was the closet Companion of these his solitudes, William Shakspeare; who introduced the Person of Richard the third, speaking in as high a strain of pietie, and mortification, as is utterd in any passage of this Book [&grE;&grI;&grK;&grW;&grN; &grB;&grA;&grS;&grI;&grL;&grI;&grK;&grH;]; and sometimes to the same sense and purpose with some words in this place, I intended, saith he, not onely to oblige my Friends but mine enemies. The like saith Richard, Act 2, Scene 1, “‘I doe not know that Englishman alive “‘With whom my soule is any jott at odds, “‘More than the Infant that is borne to night; “‘I thank my God for my humilitie.’ “‘Other stuff of this sort may be read throughout the whole Tragedie, wherein the Poet us'd not much licence in departing from the truth of History, which delivers him a deep dissembler, not of his affections onely, but of religion.’ “&grE;&grI;&grK;&grO;&grN;&grO;&grK;&grL;&grA;&grS;&grT;&grH;&grST;. 4to. 2d Edit. 1650, page 10. The following reply to Milton, however virulent, does not suggest the least idea of what Dr. Farmer, Mr. Warton, &c. object to him. “‘The instances of Tyrants counterfeiting Religion are frequent, and that hipocrisie is inseparable from Tyrants by usurpation, such as this libellers Masters, whose want of right, seekes protection from dissembled vertue, but this seldome happens to Kings by just Title, whose power wants not that support. His comparing his late Majest: to knowne usurpers, that confirmed their Crownes, gained by robbery, and kept with falshood and blood, [by counterfeiting religion,] shewes his odious shamelessnes in the dissimilitude, & whoever observes the prophane assumption of the Titles of pietie, by these Monsters, & their hipocriticall professions, to maske their wicked ends, shall finde, that Andronicus Comnenus, and our English Rich. 3. came short of them, not only in counterfeiting Religion, and conscience, but in falshood and crueltie. Insteede of Shakespeares scene of Rich. 3. the libeller may take the Parliaments declaration of the 29th May, where their words are. “The providing for the publique peace and prosperitee of his Majest: and all his Realmes, we protest in the presence of the all-seeing Deitie to have been, and still to be, the only end of our Councells, & endeavours, wherein wee have resolved to continue freed, and enlarged from all private aimes, personall respects, or passions whatsoever,” and againe in their petition of the second of June, they tell him, “that they have nothing in their thoughts, and desires more pretious, and of higher esteeme next to the honour, and immediate service of God, then the just, and faithfull performance of their dutie to his Majest:” and the libeller will not finde in historie or poet, wordes of a deeper hipocrisie in the mouth of a villaine, nor more contradicted by their Actions. That which he adds from his Testimony out of Shakspeare of the imagined vehemence of Rich. the 3. in his dissembled professions, holds noe proportion with theis hipocrisies, really acted, not fancyed by a poet, and this libeller hath learnt to act a part out of Shakspeare, and with Rich. 3. accusing loyaltie, and innocency for high Crymes, and crying out against their wickednes, that sought to restore the dispossessed heires of the Crowne to their right, and amplifying their offence, as the highest against God, and man, and wherein comes the libeller short of his patterne in this scene?’ “&grE;&grI;&grK;&grW;&grN; &grA;&grK;&grL;&grA;&grS;&grT;&grO;&grST;. 4to, 1651, page 81. “This last quotation might perhaps have been spared, but that it was thought necessary to bring the whole into one point of view; so, as it is conceived, the entire exoneration of Milton, so far as relates to his supposed censure of Charles, for merely the reading of Shakspeare: should the argument be thought undeserving of so much notice, it may be said, with Mr. Richardson, “These indeed are trifles; but even such contract a sort of greatness, when related to what is great. W.” Boswell. The copy of the second folio of Shakspeare, which formerly belonged to King Charles, and mentioned in the preceding notes, is now in the library of his present Majesty, [Geo. III.] who has corrected a mistake of Dr. Farmer's, relative to Sir Thomas Herbert, inadvertently admitted by Mr. Steevens, but here omitted. Reed. This play is in the graver part elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely humorous. Ague-cheek is drawn with great propriety, but his character is, in a great measure, that of natural fatuity, and is therefore not the proper prey of a satirist. The soliloquy of Malvolio is truly comic; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by his pride. The marriage of Olivia, and the succeeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life. Johnson.

Note return to page 928 *First folio, beds.

Note return to page 929 †First folio, heades.

Note return to page 930 10211003She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.] Mr. Theobald supposes this might possibly be borrowed from Chaucer: “And her besidis wonder discreetlie “Dame pacience ysitting there I fonde “With facé pale, upon a hill of sonde.” And adds: “If he was indebted, however, for the first rude draught, how amply has he repaid that debt, in heightening the picture! How much does the green and yellow melancholy transcend the old bard's pale face; the monument his hill of sand.”— I hope this critic does not imagine Shakspeare meant to give us a picture of the face of patience, by his green and yellow melancholy; because, he says, it transcends the pale face of patience given us by Chaucer. To throw patience into a fit of melancholy, would be indeed very extraordinary. The green and yellow then belonged not to patience, but to her who sat like patience. To give patience a pale face was proper: and had Shakspeare described her, he had done it as Chaucer did. But Shakspeare is speaking of a marble statue of patience; Chaucer of patience herself. And the two representations of her, are in quite different views. Our poet, speaking of a despairing lover, judiciously compares her to patience exercised on the death of friends and relations; which affords him the beautiful picture of “patience on a monument.” The old bard, speaking of patience herself directly, and not by comparison, as judiciously draws her in that circumstance where she is most exercised, and has occasion for all her virtue; that is to say, under the losses of shipwreck. And now we see why she is represented as “sitting on a hill of sand,” to design the scene to be the sea-shore. It is finely imagined; and one of the noble simplicities of that admirable poet. But the critic thought, in good earnest, that Chaucer's invention was so barren, and his imagination so beggarly, that he was not able to be at the charge of a monument for his goddess, but left her, like a stroller, sunning herself upon a heap of sand. Warburton. This celebrated image was not improbably first sketched out in the old play of Pericles. I think, Shakspeare's hand may be sometimes seen in the latter part of it, and there only: “&lblank; thou [Marina] dost look “Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves, and smiling “Extremity out of act.” Farmer. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes.” In the passage in the text, our author perhaps meant to personify grief as well as patience; for we can scarcely understand “at grief” to mean “in grief,” as no statuary could, I imagine, form a countenance in which smiles and grief should be at once expressed. Shakspeare might have borrowed his imagery from some ancient monument on which these two figures were represented. The following lines in The Winter's Tale seem to countenance such an idea: “I doubt not then, but innocence shall make “False accusation blush, and tyranny “Tremble at patience.” Again, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; like dumb statues, or unbreathing stones, “Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale.” In King Lear, we again meet with two personages introduced in the text: “Patience and sorrow strove, “Who should express her goodliest.” Again, in Cymbeline, the same kind of imagery may be traced: “&lblank; nobly he yokes “A smiling with a sigh. “&lblank; I do note “That grief and patience, rooted in him both, “Mingle their spurs together.” I am aware that Homer's &grd;&gra;&grk;&grr;&gru;&groa;&gre;&grn; &grg;&gre;&grl;&gra;&grs;&gra;&grs;&gra;, and a passage in Macbeth— “&lblank; My plenteous joys, “Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves “In drops of sorrow &lblank;” may be urged against this interpretation; but it should be remembered, that in these instances it is joy which bursts into tears. There is no instance, I believe, either in poetry or real life, of sorrow smiling in anguish. In pain indeed the case is different: the suffering Indian having been known to smile in the midst of torture.—But, however this may be, the sculptor and the painter are confined to one point of time, and cannot exhibit successive movements in the countenance. Dr. Percy, however, thinks, that grief may here mean grievance, in which sense it is used in Dr. Powel's History of Wales, quarto, p. 356: “Of the wrongs and griefs done to the noblemen at Stratolyn,” &c. In the original, (printed at the end of Wynne's History of Wales, octavo,) it is a gravamina, i. e. grievances. The word is often used by our author in the same sense, (So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; the king hath sent to know “The nature of your griefs;)” but never, I believe, in the singular number. In support of what has been suggested, the authority of Mr. Rowe may be adduced, for in his life of Shakspeare he has thus exhibited this passage: “She sat like Patience on a monument, “Smiling at Grief.” In the observations now submitted to the reader, I had once some confidence, nor am I yet convinced that the objection founded on the particle at, and on the difficulty, if not impossibility of a sculptor forming such a figure as these words are commonly supposed to describe, is without foundation. I have therefore retained my note; yet I must acknowledge, that the following lines in King Richard II. which have lately occurred to me, render my theory somewhat doubtful, though they do not overturn it: “His face still combating with tears and smiles, “The badges of his grief and patience.” Here we have the same idea as that in the text; and perhaps Shakspeare never considered whether it could be exhibited in marble. I have expressed a doubt whether the word grief was employed in the singular number, in the sense of grievance. I have lately observed that our author has himself used it in that sense in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; an inch of any ground “To build a grief on.” Dr. Percy's interpretation, therefore, may be the true one. Malone. I am unwilling to suppose a monumental image of Patience was ever confronted by an emblematical figure of Grief, on purpose that one might sit and smile at the other; because such a representation might be considered as a satire on human insensibility. When Patience smiles, it is to express a Christian triumph over the common cause of sorrow, a cause, of which the sarcophagus, near her station, ought very sufficiently to remind her. True Patience, when it is her cue to smile over calamity, knows her office without a prompter; knows that stubborn lamentation displays a will most incorrect to heaven; and therefore appears content with one of its severest dispensations, the loss of a relation or a friend. Ancient tombs, indeed, (if we must construe grief into grievance, and Shakspeare has certainly used the former word for the latter,) frequently exhibit cumbent figures of the deceased, and over these an image of Patience, without impropriety, might express a smile of complacence: “Her meek hands folded on her modest breast, “With calm submission lift the adoring eye “Even to the storm that wrecks her.” After all, however, I believe the Homeric elucidation of the passage to be the true one. Tyrant poetry often imposes such complicated tasks as painting and sculpture must fail to execute. I cannot help adding, that to “smile at grief,” is as justifiable an expression as to “rejoice at prosperity, or repine at ill fortune.” It is not necessary we should suppose the good or bad event, in either instance, is an object visible, except to the eye of imagination. Steevens. The commentators have, I think, created their own difficulty by mingling together two parts of the description which the poet intended to be distinct. The meaning appears to me to be this: ‘While she was smiling at grief, or in the midst of her grief, her placid resignation made her look like patience on a monument.’ The monumental figure, I apprehend, is no more said to have smiled at grief than to have pined in thought, or to have been of a green and yellow hue. A passage in the most pathetic poet of antiquity has been pointed out to me by my friend Mr. Combe of the Museum, which exhibits a similar description of a silent and hopeless passion: &GREs;&grn;&grt;&gra;&gruc;&grq;&gra; &grd;&grhg; &grs;&grt;&grea;&grn;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gra; &grk;&gras;&grk;&grp;&gre;&grp;&grl;&grh;&grg;&grm;&grea;&grn;&grh; &grK;&grea;&grn;&grt;&grr;&gro;&gri;&grst; &gresa;&grr;&grw;&grt;&gro;&grst; &grhr; &grt;&graa;&grl;&gra;&gri;&grn;&grap; &gras;&grp;&groa;&grl;&grl;&gru;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grS;&gri;&grg;&grhci; &grc;&grua;&grn;&gro;&gri;&grd;&gre; &grd;&grap; &grosa;&gru;&grt;&gri;&grst; &gro;&gris;&grk;&gre;&grt;&grwc;&grn; &grn;&groa;&grs;&gro;&grn;. Eurip, Hippol. v. 38. I have to apologize to Mr. Combe, for having neglected to mention in its proper place a suggestion of his, that some lines in the same drama bore a near resemblance to a part of Hamlet's celebrated soliloquy: “But that the dread of something after death,— “The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn “No traveller returns,—puzzles the will: “And makes us rather bear those ills we have, “Than fly to others that we know not of?” Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act III.Sc. I. &grD;&gru;&grs;&grt;&grea;&grr;&grw;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grd;&grhg; &grf;&gra;&gri;&grn;&groa;&grm;&gre;&grq;&grap; &grosa;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grT;&groc;&gru;&grd;&grap;, &grora;&grt;&gri; &grt;&gro;&gruc;&grt;&gro; &grs;&grt;&gria;&grl;&grb;&gre;&gri; &grk;&gra;&grt;&grag; &grg;&grhc;&grn;, &grD;&gris; &gras;&grp;&gre;&gri;&grr;&gro;&grs;&grua;&grn;&gra;&grn; &grasa;&grl;&grl;&gro;&gru; &grb;&gri;&groa;&grt;&gro;&gru;, &grK;&grap;&gro;&gru;&grk; &gras;&grp;&groa;&grd;&gre;&gri;&grc;&gri;&grn; &grt;&grwc;&grn; &grur;&grp;&grog; &grg;&gra;&gria;&gra;&grst;. Eurip, Hippol. v. 193. Boswell.

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