Note return to page 1 1You do not meet a man, but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers; Still seem, as does the king's.] The thought is this; we are not now (as we were wont) influenced by the weather, but by the king's looks. “We no more obey the heavens [the sky] than our courtiers” obey the heavens [God]. By which it appears that the reading—our bloods, is wrong. For though the blood may be affected with the weather, yet that affection is discovered not by change of colour, but by change of countenance. And it is the outward not the inward change that is here talked of, as appears from the word seem. We should read therefore: “&lblank; our brows “No more obey the heavens,” &c. which is evident from the precedent words: “You do not meet a man but frowns.” And from the following: “&lblank; But not a courtier, “Although they wear their faces to the bent “Of the king's look, but hath a heart that is “Glad at the thing they scowl at.” The Oxford editor improves upon this emendation, and reads: “&lblank; our looks “No more obey the heart, e'en than our courtiers.” But by venturing too far, at a second emendation, he has stript it of all thought and sentiment. Warburton. This passage is so difficult, that commentators may differ concerning it without animosity or shame. Of the two emendations proposed, Sir Thomas Hanmer's is the more licentious; but he makes the sense clear, and leaves the reader an easy passage. Dr. Warburton has corrected with more caution, but less improvement: his reasoning upon his own reading is so obscure and perplexed, that I suspect some injury of the press.—I am now to tell my opinion, which is, that the lines stand as they were originally written, and that a paraphrase, such as the licentious and abrupt expressions of our author too frequently require, will make emendation unnecessary. “We do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods &lblank;” our countenances, which, in popular speech, are said to be regulated by the temper of the blood,—“no more obey the laws of heaven,” —which direct us to appear what we really are,—“than our courtiers:” —that is, than the ‘bloods of our courtiers;’ but our bloods, like theirs,—“still seem, as doth the king's.” Johnson. In The Yorkshire Tragedy, 1608, which has been attributed to Shakspeare, blood appears to be used for inclination: “For 'tis our blood to love what we are forbidden.” Again, in King Lear, Act IV. Sc. II.: “&lblank; Were it my fitness “To let these hands obey my blood.” In King Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. IV. is the same thought: “&lblank; subject to your countenance, glad, or sorry, “As I saw it inclin'd.” Again, in Greene's Never Too Late, 4to. 1590: “if the King smiled, every one in the court was in his jollitie; if he frowned, their plumes fell like peacock's feathers, so that their outward presence depended on his inward passions.” Steevens. I would propose to make this passage clear by a very slight alteration, only leaving out the last letter: “You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods “No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers “Still seem, as does the king.” That is, “Still look as the king does;” or, as he expresses it a little differently afterwards: “&lblank; wear their faces to the bent “Of the king's look.” Tyrwhitt. The only error that I can find in this passage is, the mark of the genitive case annexed to the word courtiers, which appears to be a modern innovation, and ought to be corrected. The meaning of it is this:—“Our dispositions no more obey the heavens than our courtiers do; they still seem as the king's does.” The obscurity arises from the omission of the pronoun they, by a common poetical licence. M. Mason. Blood is so frequently used by Shakspeare for natural disposition, that there can be no doubt concerning the meaning here. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Now his important blood will nought deny “That she'll demand.” We have again, in Antony and Cleopatra, a sentiment similar to that before us: “&lblank; for he would shine on those “That made their looks by his.” Malone. This passage means, I think, “Our bloods, or our constitutions, are not more regulated by the heavens, by every skyey influence, than our courtiers apparently are by the looks or disposition of the King: when he frowns, every man frowns.” Boswell.

Note return to page 2 2&lblank; She's wedded; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; &c.] I would reform the metre as follows: “She's wed; her husband banish'd, she imprison'd: “All's outward sorrow;” &c. Wed is used for wedded, in The Comedy of Errors: “In Syracusa was I born, and wed &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3You speak him far.] You are lavish in your encomiums on him: your eulogium has a wide compass. Malone. “You speak him far,” i. e. you praise him extensively. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 4I do extend him, sir, within himself;] I extend him within himself: my praise, however extensive, is within his merit. Johnson. My eulogium, however extended it may seem, is short of his real excellence; it is rather abbreviated than expanded.—We have again the same expression in a subsequent scene: “The approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce, are wonderfully to extend him.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “The report of her is extended more than can be thought.” Malone. Perhaps this passage may be somewhat illustrated by the following lines in Troilus and Cressida, Act III. Sc. III.: “&lblank; no man is the lord of any thing, “Till he communicate his parts to others: “Nor doth he of himself know them for aught, “Till he behold them form'd in the applause “Where they are extended,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 5 5Crush him &lblank;] So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Croud us and crush us in this monstrous form.” Steevens.

Note return to page 6 6&lblank; who did join his honour Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;] I do not understand what can be meant by “joining his honour against, &c. with, &c.” Perhaps our author wrote: “&lblank; did join his banner “Against the Romans,” &c. In King John, says the Bastard, let us— “Part our mingled colours once again.” and in the last speech of the play before us, Cymbeline proposes that “a Roman and a British ensign should wave together.” Steevens.

Note return to page 7 7&lblank; Tenantius,] Was the father of Cymbeline, and nephew of Cassibelan, being the younger son of his elder brother Lud, king of the southern part of Britain; on whose death Cassibelan was admitted king. Cassibelan repulsed the Romans on their first attack, but being vanquished by Julius Cæsar on his second invasion of Britain, he agreed to pay an annual tribute to Rome. After his death, Tenantius, Lud's younger son (his elder brother Androgeus having fled to Rome) was established on the throne, of which they had been unjustly deprived by their uncle. According to some authorities, Tenantius quietly paid the tribute stipulated by Cassibelan; according to others, he refused to pay it, and warred with the Romans. Shakspeare supposes the latter to be the truth. Holinshed, who furnished our poet with these facts, furnished him also with the name of Sicilius, who was admitted King of Britain, A. M. 3659. The name of Leonatus he found in Sidney's Arcadia. Leonatus is there the legitimate son of the blind King of Paphlagonia, on whose story the episode of Gloster, Edgar, and Edmund, is formed in King Lear. See Arcadia, p. 69, edit. 1593. Malone. Shakspeare, having already introduced Leonato among the characters in Much Ado About Nothing, had not far to go for Leonatus. Steevens.

Note return to page 8 8&lblank; Posthumus;] Old copy—Posthumus Leonatus. Reed.

Note return to page 9 9&lblank; Liv'd in court, (Which rare it is to do,) most prais'd, most lov'd:] This encomium is high and artful. To be at once in any great degree loved and praised, is truly rare. Johnson.

Note return to page 10 1A glass that feated them;] A glass that formed them; a model, by the contemplation and inspection of which they formed their manners. Johnson. This passage may be well explained by another in The First Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; He was indeed the glass “Wherein the noble youths did dress themselves.” Again, Ophelia describes Hamlet as— “The glass of fashion, and the mould of form.” To dress themselves, therefore, may be to form themselves. Dresser, in French, is to form. To dress a spaniel is to break him in. Feat is nice, exact. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; look, how well my garments sit upon me, “Much feater than before.” To feat, therefore, may be a verb meaning—to render nice, exact. By the dress of Posthumus, even the more mature courtiers condescended to regulate their external appearance. Steevens. Feat Minsheu interprets, fine, neat, brave. See also Barrett's Alvearie, 1580: “Feat and pleasant, concinnæ et venustæ sententiæ.” The poet does not, I think, mean to say merely, that the more mature regulated their dress by that of Posthumus. A glass that feated them, is a model, by viewing which their form became more elegant, and their manners more polished. We have nearly the same image in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; I should blush “To see you so attir'd; sworn, I think, “To show myself a glass.” Again, more appositely in Hamlet: “He was the mark and glass, copy and book, “That fashion'd others.” Malone.

Note return to page 11 2&lblank; to his mistress,] Means—as to his mistress. M. Mason.

Note return to page 12 3&lblank; Imogen.] Holinshed's Chronicle furnished Shakspeare with this name, which in the old black letter is scarcely distinguishable from Innogen, the wife of Brute, King of Britain. There too he found the name of Cloten, who, when the line of Brute was at an end, was one of the five kings that governed Britain. Cloten, or Cloton, was King of Cornwall, and father of Mulmutius, whose laws are mentioned in Act III. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 13 4(Always reserv'd my holy duty,)] I say I do not fear my father, so far as I may say it without breach of duty. Johnson.

Note return to page 14 5Though ink be made of gall.] Shakspeare, even in this poor conceit, has confounded the vegetable galls used in ink, with the animal gall, supposed to be bitter. Johnson. The poet might mean either the vegetable or the animal galls with equal propriety, as the vegetable gall is bitter; and I have seen an ancient receipt for making ink, beginning, “Take of the black juice of the gall of oxen two ounces,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 15 6&lblank; he does buy my injuries, to be friends;] He gives me a valuable consideration in new kindness (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done him,) in order to renew our amity, and make us friends again. Malone.

Note return to page 16 6And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death!] Shakspeare may poetically call the cere-cloths in which the dead are wrapped, “the bonds of death.” If so, we should read cere instead of sear: “Why thy canoniz'd bones hearsed in death, “Have burst their cerements?” To sear up, is properly to close up by burning; but in this passage the poet may have dropped that idea, and used the word simply for to close up. Steevens. May not sear up, here mean solder up, and the reference be to a lead coffin? Perhaps cerements, in Hamlet's address to the Ghost, was used for searments in the same sense. Henley. I believe nothing more than close up was intended. In the spelling of the last age, however, no distinction was made between cere-cloth and sear-cloth. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, explains the word cerot by sear-cloth. Shakspeare therefore certainly might have had that practice in his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 17 7While sense can keep it on!] This expression, I suppose, means, “while sense can maintain its operations; while sense continues to have its usual power.” That to keep on signifies to continue in a state of action, is evident from the following passage in Othello: “&lblank; keeps due on “To the Propontick,” &c. The general sense of Posthumus's declaration, is equivalent to the Roman phrase,—dum spiritus hos regit artus. Steevens. The poet [if it refers to the ring] ought to have written—can keep thee on, as Mr. Pope and the three subsequent editors read. But Shakspeare has many similar inaccuracies. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.” instead of—his hand. Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Time's office is to calm contending kings, “To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light,— “To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours &lblank;.” instead of—his hours. Again, in the third Act of the play before us: “&lblank; Euriphile, “Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, “And every day do honour to her grave.” Malone. As none of our author's productions were revised by himself as they passed from the theatre through the press; and as Julius Cæsar and Cymbeline are among the plays which originally appeared in the blundering first folio; it is hardly fair to charge irregularities on the poet, of which his publishers alone might have been guilty. I must therefore take leave to set down the present, and many similar offences against the established rules of language, under the article of Hemingisms and Condelisms; and, as such, in my opinion, they ought, without ceremony, to be corrected. The instance brought from The Rape of Lucrece might only have been a compositorial inaccuracy, like those which have occasionally happened in the course of our present republication. Steevens.

Note return to page 18 8&lblank; a manacle &lblank;] A manacle properly means what we now call a hand-cuff. Steevens.

Note return to page 19 9There cannot be a pinch in death, More sharp than this is.] So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; it is a sufferance, panging “As soul and body's parting.” Malone.

Note return to page 20 1That should'st repair my youth;] i. e. renovate my youth; make me young again. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; as for him, he brought his disease hither: here he doth but repair it.” Again, in All's Well That End's Well: “&lblank; it much repairs me, “To talk of your good father.” Malone. Again, in Pericles: “Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 21 2&lblank; thou heapest A year's age on me!] The obvious sense of this passage, on which several experiments have been made, is in some degree countenanced by what follows in another scene: “And every day that comes, comes to decay “A day's work in him.” Dr. Warburton would read “A yare (i. e. a speedy) age;” Sir T. Hanmer would restore the metre by a supplemental epithet: “&lblank; thou heapest many “A year's age,” &c. and Dr. Johnson would give us: “Years, ages, on me!” I prefer the additional word introduced by Sir Thomas Hanmer, to all the other attempts at emendation. “Many a year's age,” is an idea of some weight: but if Cymbeline meant to say that his daughter's conduct made him precisely one year older, his conceit is unworthy both of himself and Shakspeare.—I would read with Sir Thomas Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 22 3&lblank; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears.] A touch more rare, may mean a nobler passion. Johnson. A “touch more rare” is undoubtedly ‘a more exquisite feeling; a superior sensation.’ So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act I. Sc. II.: “The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, “Do strongly speak to us.” Again, in The Tempest: “Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling “Of their afflictions?” &c. A touch is not unfrequently used, by other ancient writers, in this sense. So, in Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, a masque, 1623: “You must not, Philis, be so sensible “Of these small touches which your passion makes. “&lblank; Small touches, Lydia! do you count them small?” Again: “When pleasure leaves a touch at last “To show that it was ill.” Again, in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1599: “So deep we feel impressed in our blood “That touch which nature with our breath did give.” Lastly, as Dr. Farmer observes to me, in Fraunce's Ivychurch. He is speaking of Mars and Venus: “When sweet tickling joyes of tutching came to the highest poynt, when two were one,” &c. Steevens. A passage in King Lear will fully illustrate Imogen's meaning: “&lblank; where the greater malady is fix'd, “The lesser is scarce felt.” Malone.

Note return to page 23 4&lblank; a puttock.] A kite. Johnson. A puttock is a mean degenerate species of hawk, too worthless to deserve training. Steevens.

Note return to page 24 5&lblank; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays.] So small is my value, and so great is his, that in the purchase he has made (for which he paid himself,) for much the greater part, and nearly the whole, of what he has given, he has nothing in return. The most minute portion of his worth would be too high a price for the wife he has acquired. Malone.

Note return to page 25 6&lblank; your best advice.] i. e. consideration, reflection. So, in Measure for Measure: “But did repent me after more advice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 26 7&lblank; let her languish A drop of blood a day;] We meet with a congenial form of malediction in Othello: “&lblank; may his pernicious soul “Rot half a grain a day!” Steevens.

Note return to page 27 8&lblank; he fled forward still, toward your face.] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly “With his face backward.” Steevens.

Note return to page 28 9&lblank; her beauty and her brain go not together.] I believe the lord means to speak a sentence, “Sir, as I told you always, beauty and brain go not together.” Johnson. That is, are not equal, “ne vont pás de pair.” A similar expression occurs in The Laws of Candy, where Gonzalo, speaking of Erota, says: “&lblank; and walks “Her tongue the same gait with her wit?” M. Mason.

Note return to page 29 1She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.] She has a fair outside, a specious appearance, but no wit. “O quanta species, cerebrum non habet!” Phædrus. Edwards. I believe the poet meant nothing by sign, but fair outward show. Johnson. The same allusion is common to other writers. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn: “&lblank; a common trull, “A tempting sign, and curiously set forth, “To draw in riotous guests.” Again, in The Elder Brother, by the same authors: “Stand still, thou sign of man.” To understand the whole force of Shakspeare's idea, it should be remembered, that anciently almost every sign had a motto, or some attempt at a witticism, underneath it. Steevens. In a subsequent scene, Iachimo speaking of Imogen, says: “All of her, that is out of door, most rich! “If she be so furnish'd with a mind so rare, “She is alone the Arabian bird.” Malone.

Note return to page 30 2&lblank; 'twere a paper lost, As offer'd mercy is.] I believe the poet's meaning is, that the loss of that paper would prove as fatal to her, as the loss of a pardon to a condemned criminal. A thought resembling this, occurs in All's Well That Ends Well: “Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried.” Steevens.

Note return to page 31 3&lblank; with this eye or ear &lblank;] [Old copy—his eye, &c.] But how could Posthumus make himself distinguished by his ear to Pisanio? By his tongue he might to the other's ear, and this was certainly Shakspeare's intention. We must therefore read: “As he could make me with this eye, or ear, “Distinguish him from others &lblank;” The expression is &grd;&gre;&gri;&grk;&grt;&gri;&grk;&grwc;&grst;, as the Greeks term it: the party speaking points to the part spoken of. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer alters it thus: “&lblank; for so long “As he could mark me with his eye, or I “Distinguish &lblank;” The reason of Sir T. Hanmer's reading was, that Pisanio describes no address made to the ear. Johnson. This description, and what follows it, seems imitated from the eleventh book of Ovid's Metamorphosis. See Golding's translation, p. 146, b. &c.: “She lifting up hir watrie eies beheld her husband stand “Upon the hatches making signes by becking with his hand: “And she made signes to him againe. And after that the land “Was farre removed from the ship, and that the sight began “To be unable to discerne the face of any man, “As long as ere she could she lookt upon the rowing keele. “And when she could no longer time for distance ken it weele, “She looked still upon the sailes that flasked with the wind “Upon the mast. And when she could the sailes no longer find, “She gate hir to hir emtie bed with sad and sorie hart,” &c Steevens.

Note return to page 32 4As little as a crow, or less,] This comparison may be illustrated by the following in King Lear: “&lblank; the crows that wing the midway air, “Show scarce so gross as beetles.” Steevens.

Note return to page 33 5&lblank; till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:] The diminution of space, is the diminution of which space is the cause. Trees are killed by a blast of lightning, that is, by blasting, not blasted lightning. Johnson.

Note return to page 34 6&lblank; next vantage.] Next opportunity. Johnson. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 35 7&lblank; encounter me with orisons,] i. e. meet me with reciprocal prayer. So, in Macbeth: “See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 36 8I am in heaven for him;] My solicitations ascend to heaven on his behalf. Steevens.

Note return to page 37 9&lblank; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words,] Dr. Warburton pronounces as absolutely as if he had been present at their parting, that these two charming words were—adieu Posthumus; but as Mr. Edwards has observed, “she must have understood the language of love very little, if she could find no tenderer expression of it, than the name by which every one called her husband.” Steevens.

Note return to page 38 1&lblank; like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.] i. e. our buds of love, as our author has elsewhere expressed it. Dr. Warburton, because the buds of flowers are here alluded to, very idly reads— “Shakes all our buds from blowing.” The buds of flowers undoubtedly are meant, and Shakspeare himself has told us in Romeo and Juliet that they grow: “This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath “May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet.” Malone. A bud without any distinct idea, whether of flower or fruit, is a natural representation of any thing incipient or immature; and the buds of flowers, if flowers are meant, grow to flowers, as the buds of fruits grow to fruits. Johnson. Dr. Warburton's emendation may in some measure be confirmed by those beautiful lines in The Two Noble Kinsmen, which I have no doubt were written by Shakspeare. Emilia is speaking of a rose: “It is the very emblem of a maid. “For when the west wind courts her gentily, “How modestly she blows and paints the sun “With her chaste blushes—when the north comes near her “Rude and impatient, then like chastity, “She locks her beauties in the bud again, “And leaves him to base briars.” Farmer. I think the old reading may be sufficiently supported by the following passage in the 18th Sonnet of our author: “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds.” Lyly, in his Euphues, 1581, as Mr. Holt White observes, has a similar expression: “The winde shaketh off the blossome, as well as the fruit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 39 2&lblank; Iachimo,] The name of Giacomo occurs in The Two Gentlemen of Venice, a novel, which immediately follows that of Rhomeo and Julietta in the second tome of Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Malone.

Note return to page 40 3&lblank; a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.] Thus the old copy; but Mynheer, and the Don, are mute characters. Shakspeare, however, derived this circumstance from whatever translation of the original novel he made use of. Thus, in the ancient one described in our Prolegomena to this drama: “Howe iiii merchauntes met all togyther in on way, whyche were of iiii dyverse landes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 41 4&lblank; makes him &lblank;] In the sense in which we say, This will make or mar you. Johnson. So, in Othello: “&lblank; This is the night “Tha either makes me, or for does me quite.” Steevens. Makes him, in the text, means forms him. M. Mason.

Note return to page 42 5&lblank; words him, &lblank; a great deal from the matter,] Makes the description of him very distant from the truth. Johnson.

Note return to page 43 6&lblank; under her colours,] Under her banner; by her influence. Johnson.

Note return to page 44 7&lblank; and the approbation of those, &lblank; are wonderfully to extend him;] This grammatical inaccuracy is common in Shakspeare's plays. So, in Julius Cæsar: “The posture of your blows are yet unknown.” See vol. xii. p. 134, and vol. iv. p. 389. The modern editors, however, read—approbations. Extend has here the same meaning as in a former scene. See p. 8, n. 4. Malone. I perceive no inaccuracy on the present occasion. “This matter of his marrying his king's daughter,”—“and then his banishment;”—“and the approbation of those,” &c. “are (i. e. all these circumstances united) wonderfully to extend him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 45 8&lblank; without less quality.] Whenever less or more is to be joined with a verb denoting want, or a preposition of a similar import, Shakspeare never fails to be entangled in a grammatical inaccuracy, or rather, to use words that express the very contrary of what he means. In a note on Antony and Cleopatra, I have proved this incontestably, by comparing a passage similar to that in the text with the words of Plutarch on which it is formed. The passage is: “&lblank; I—condemn myself to lack “The courage of a woman, less noble mind “Than she &lblank;.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; I ne'er heard yet “That any of these bolder vices wanted “Less impudence, to gainsay what they did, “Than to perform it first.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; I have hope “You less know how to value her deserts “Than she to scant her duty.” See note on Antony and Cleopatra, vol. xii. p. 373, n. 4. Mr. Rowe and all the subsequent editors read—without more quality, and so undoubtedly Shakspeare ought to have written. On the stage, an actor may rectify such petty errors; but it is the duty of an editor to exhibit what his author wrote. Malone. As on this occasion, and several others, we can only tell what Hemings and Condel printed, instead of knowing, with any degree of certainty, what Shakspeare wrote, I have not disturbed Mr. Rowe's emendation, which leaves a clear passage to the reader, if he happens to prefer an obvious sense to no sense at all. Steevens.

Note return to page 46 9&lblank; which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.] So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Which I will ever pay, and pay again, “When I have found it.” Again, in our author's 30th Sonnet: “Which I new pay, as if not pay'd before.” Malone.

Note return to page 47 1&lblank; I did atone, &c.] To atone signifies in this place to reconcile. So, Ben Jonson, in The Silent Woman: “There had been some hope to atone you.” Again, in Heywood's English Traveller, 1633: “The constable is call'd to atone the broil.” Steevens.

Note return to page 48 2&lblank; upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.] Importance is here, as elsewhere in Shakspeare, importunity, instigation. See vol. xi. p. 498, n. 2; and vol. iv. p. 253, n. 5. Malone. So, in Twelfth-Night: “Maria wrote the letter at Sir Toby's great importance.” Again, in King John: “At our importance hither is he come.” Steevens.

Note return to page 49 3&lblank; rather shunned to go even with what I heard, &c.] This is expressed with a kind of fantastical perplexity. He means, I was then willing to take for my direction the experience of others, more than such intelligence as I had gathered myself. Johnson. This passage cannot bear the meaning that Johnson contends for. Posthumus is describing a presumptuous young man, as he acknowledges himself to have been at that time; and means to say, that “he rather studied to avoid conducting himself by the opinions of other people, than to be guided by their experience.” —To take for direction the experience of others, would be a proof of wisdom, not of presumption. M. Mason.

Note return to page 50 *First folio omits not.

Note return to page 51 4&lblank; confounded one the other,] To confound, in our author's time, signified—to destroy. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. xii. p. 280. “What willingly he did confound he wail'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 52 5&lblank; which may, without contradiction,] Which, undoubtedly, may be publickly told. Johnson.

Note return to page 53 6&lblank; though I profess, &c.] Though I have not the common obligations of a lover to his mistress, and regard her not with the fondness of a friend, but the reverence of an adorer. Johnson. The sense seems to require a transposition of these words, and that we should read: “Though I profess myself her friend, not her adorer.” Meaning thereby the praises he bestowed on her arose from his knowledge of her virtues, not from a superstitious reverence only. If Posthumus wished to be believed, as he surely did, the declaring that his praises proceeded from adoration, would lessen the credit of them, and counteract his purpose. In confirmation of this conjecture, we find that in the next page he acknowledges her to be his wife.—Iachimo afterwards says in the same sense: “You are a friend, and therein the wiser.” Which would also serve to confirm my amendment, if it were the right reading; but I do not think it is. M. Mason. I am not certain that the foregoing passages have been completely understood by either commentator, for want of acquaintance with the peculiar sense in which the word friend may have been employed. A friend in ancient colloquial language, is occasionally synonymous to a paramour or inamorato of either sex, in both the favourable and unfavourable sense of that word. “Save you friend Cassio!” says Bianca in Othello; and Lucio, in Measure for Measure, informs Isabella that her brother Claudio “hath got his friend [Julietta] with child.” Friend, in short, is one of those “fond adoptious christendoms that blinking Cupid gossips,” many of which are catalogued by Helen in All's Well That Ends Well, and friend is one of the number: “A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, “A phœnix, captain, and an enemy.” This word, though with some degradation, is still current among the harlotry of London, who, (like Macheath's doxies,) as often as they have occasion to talk about their absent keepers, invariably call them their friends. In this sense the word is also used by Iago, in Othello, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Or to be naked with her friend abed.” Posthumus means to bestow the most exalted praise on Imogen, a praise the more valuable as it was the result of reason, not of amorous dotage. I make my avowal, says he, in the character of her adorer, not of her possessor.—I speak of her as a being I reverence, not as a beauty whom I enjoy.—I rather profess to describe her with the devotion of a worshipper, than the raptures of a lover. This sense of the word also appears to be confirmed by a subsequent remark of Iachimo: “You are a friend, and therein the wiser.” i. e. you are a lover, and therefore show your wisdom in opposing all experiments that may bring your lady's chastity into question. Steevens.

Note return to page 54 7If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.] The old copy reads—“I could not believe she excell'd many;” but it is on all hands allowed that the reasoning of Iachimo, as it stands there, is inconclusive. On this account, Dr. Warburton reads, omitting the word—not, “I could believe she excelled many.” Mr. Heath proposes to read, “I could but believe,” &c. Mr. Malone, whom I have followed, exhibits the passage as it appears in the present text. The reader who wishes to know more on this subject, may consult a note in Mr. Malone's edit. [1790] vol. viii. p. 327, 328, and 329. Steevens. As Mr. Steevens has withdrawn his former opinion with regard to this passage, I have not inserted Mr. Malone's reply here, but, as it has been referred to, have given it at the end of the play. Boswell.

Note return to page 55 8&lblank; if there were &lblank;] Old copy—or if—for the purchases, &c. the compositor having inadvertently repeated the word—or, which has just occurred. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 56 *First folio omits of.

Note return to page 57 9&lblank; to convince the honour of my distress;] Convince, for overcome. Warburton. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; their malady convinces “The great essay of art.” Johnson.

Note return to page 58 1&lblank; abused &lblank;] Deceived. Johnson. So, in Othello: “The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 59 2&lblank; approbation &lblank;] Proof. Johnson. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; how many, now in health, “Shall drop their blood in approbation “Of what your reverence shall incite us to.” Steevens.

Note return to page 60 3You are a friend, and therein the wiser.] I correct it: “You are afraid, and therein the wiser.” What Iachimo says, in the close of his speech, determines this to have been our poet's reading: “&lblank; But, I see, you have some religion in you, that you fear.” Warburton. You are a friend to the lady, and therein the wiser, as you will not expose her to hazard; and that you fear is a proof of your religious fidelity. Johnson. Though Dr. Warburton affixed his name to the preceding note, it is taken verbatim from one written by Mr. Theobald on this passage. [But let it be remembered, that Dr. Warburton communicated many notes to Theobald before he published his own edition, and complains that he was not fairly dealt with concerning them. Reed.] A friend in our author's time often signified a lover. Iachimo therefore might mean that Posthumus was wise in being only the lover of Imogen, and not having bound himself to her by the indissoluble ties of marriage. But unluckily Posthumus has already said he is not her friend, but her adorer: this therefore could hardly have been Iachimo's meaning. I cannot say that I am entirely satisfied with Dr. Johnson's interpretation; yet I have nothing better to propose. “You are a friend to the lady, and therefore will not expose her to hazard. This surely is not warranted by what Posthumus has just said. He is ready enough to expose her to hazard. He has actually exposed her to hazard by accepting the wager. He will not indeed risk his diamond, but has offered to lay a sum of money, that Iachimo, “with all appliances and means to boot,” will not be able to corrupt her. I do not therefore see the force of Iachimo's observation. It would have been more “german to the matter” to have said, in allusion to the former words of Posthumus—You are not a friend, i. e. a lover, and therein the wiser: for all women are corruptible. Malone. See p. 30, and 31, n. 6. Though the rely of Iachimo may not have been warranted by the preceding words of Posthumus, it was certainly meant by the speaker as a provoking circumstance, a circumstance of incitation to the wager. Steevens. Does it not mean—You shew yourself a friend to your ring which you have described as being so dear to you, by not risking it on such a wager, and your prudence is evinced by your caution? Boswell.

Note return to page 61 4I am the master of my speeches;] i. e. I know what I have said; I said no more than I meant. Steevens.

Note return to page 62 5Iach. &lblank; If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours, &c. Post. I embrace these conditions; &c.] This was a wager between the two speakers. Iachimo declares the conditions of it; and Posthumus embraces them, as well he might; for Iachimo mentions only that of the two conditions which was favourable to Posthumus: namely, that if his wife preserved her honour he should win: concerning the other, in case she preserved it not, Iachimo, the accurate expounder of the wager, is silent. To make him talk more in character, for we find him sharp enough in the prosecution of his bet; we should strike out the negative, and read the rest thus: “If I bring you sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed, &c. my ten thousand ducats are mine; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour, &c. she your jewel, &c. and my gold are yours.” Warburton. I once thought this emendation right, but am now of opinion, that Shakspeare intended that Iachimo having gained his purpose, should designedly drop the invidious and offensive part of the wager, and to flatter Posthumus, dwell long upon the more pleasing part of the representation. One condition of a wager implies the other, and there is no need to mention both. Johnson.

Note return to page 63 6I do wonder, doctor,] I have supplied the verb do for the sake of measure, and in compliance with our author's practice when he designs any of his characters to speak emphatically: Thus, in Much Ado About Nothing: “I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 64 7Other conclusions?] Other experiments. “I commend,” says Walton, “an angler that trieth conclusions, and improves his art.” Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “She hath pursued conclusions infinite “Of easy ways to die.” Malone.

Note return to page 65 8Your highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart:] There is in this passage nothing that much requires a note, yet I cannot forbear to push it forward into observation. The thought would probably have been more amplified, had our author lived to be shocked with such experiments as have been published in later times, by a race of men who have practised tortures without pity, and related them without shame, and are yet suffered to erect their heads among human beings. Cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor. Johnson.

Note return to page 66 9I do not like her.] This soliloquy is very inartificial. The speaker is under no strong pressure of thought; he is neither resolving, repenting, suspecting, nor deliberating, and yet makes a long speech to tell himself what himself knows. Johnson. This soliloquy, however inartificial in respect of the speaker, is yet necessary to prevent that uneasiness which would naturally arise in the mind of an audience on recollection that the Queen had mischievous ingredients in her possession, unless they were undeceived as to the quality of them; and it is no less useful to prepare us for the return of Imogen to life. Steevens.

Note return to page 67 1&lblank; a time,] So the old copy. All the modern editions— for a time. So, in the novel printed at the end of this play: “She appointing the other to be at the court the same time.” Malone.

Note return to page 68 2So to be false with her.] The two last words may be fairly considered as an interpolation, for they hurt the metre, without enforcement of the sense. “For thee,” in the next line but one, might on the same account be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 69 3&lblank; quench;] i. e. grow cool. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 5&lblank; to shift his being,] To change his abode. Johnson.

Note return to page 71 6&lblank; that leans?] That inclines towards its fall. Johnson.

Note return to page 72 7Think what a chance thou changest on;] Such is the reading of the old copy, which by succeeding editors has been altered into— “Think what a chance thou chancest on &lblank;;” And— “Think what a change thou chancest on &lblank;;” but unnecessarily. The meaning is: “Think with what a fair prospect of mending your fortunes you now change your present service.” Steevens. A line in our author's Rape of Lucrece adds some support to the reading—thou chancest on, which is much in Shakspeare's manner: “Let there bechance him pitiful mis-chances.” Malone.

Note return to page 73 8Of liegers for her sweet;] A lieger ambassador is one that resides in a foreign court to promote his master's interest. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure: “Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, “Intends you for his swift embassador, “Where you shall be an everlasting lieger.” Steevens.

Note return to page 74 9And shall do:] Some words, which rendered this sentence less abrupt, and perfected the metre of it, appear to have been omitted in the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 75 1&lblank; O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief!] Imogen means to say, that her separation from her husband is the completion of her distress. So, in King Lear: “This would have seem'd a period “To such as love not sorrow; but another, “To amplify too much, would make much more, “And top extremity.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; the spire and top of praise.” Again, more appositely, in Troilus and Cressida: “Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, “I do give lost.” Malone.

Note return to page 76 2&lblank; but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious:] Her husband, she says, proves her supreme grief. She had been happy had she been stolen as her brothers were, but now she is miserable, as all those are who have a sense of worth and honour superior to the vulgar, which occasions them infinite vexations from the envious and worthless part of mankind. Had she not so refined a taste as to be content only with the superior merit of Posthumus, but could have taken up with Cloten, she might have escaped these persecutions. This elegance of taste, which always discovers an excellence and chooses it, she calls with great sublimity of expression, “The desire that's glorious;” which the Oxford editor not understanding, alters to—“The degree that's glorious.” Warburton.

Note return to page 77 3&lblank; Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort.] The last words are equivocal; but the meaning is this: who are beholden only to the seasons for their support and nourishment; so that, if those be kindly, such have no more to care for, or desire. Warburton. I am willing to comply with any meaning that can be extorted from the present text, rather than change it, yet will propose, but with great diffidence, a slight alteration: “&lblank; Bless'd be those, “How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, “With reason's comfort &lblank;.” Who gratify their innocent wishes with reasonable enjoyments. Johnson. I shall venture at another explanation, which, as the last words are admitted to be equivocal, may be proposed. “To be able to refine on calamity (says she) is the miserable privilege of those who are educated with aspiring thoughts and elegant desires. Blessed are they, however mean their condition, who have the power of gratifying their honest inclination, which circumstance bestows an additional relish on comfort itself.” “You lack the season of all natures, sleep.” Macbeth. Again, in Albumazar, 1615: “&lblank; the memory of misfortunes past “Seasons the welcome.” Steevens. In my apprehension, Imogen's sentiment is simply this: “Had I been stolen by thieves in my infancy, (or, as she says in another place, born a neat-herd's daughter,) I had been happy. But instead of that, I am in a high, and, what is called, a glorious station; and most miserable in such a situation! Pregnant with calamity are those desires, which aspire to glory; to splendid titles, or elevation of rank! Happier far are those, how low soever their rank in life, who have it in their power to gratify their virtuous inclinations: a circumstance that gives an additional zest to comfort itself, and renders it something more;” or (to borrow our author's words in another place) which keeps comfort always fresh and lasting. A line in Timon of Athens may perhaps prove the best comment on the former part of this passage: “O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings!” In King Henry VIII. also, Anna Bullen utters a sentiment that bears a strong resemblance to that before us: “&lblank; I swear, 'tis better “To dwell with humble livers in content, “Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief, “And wear a golden sorrow.” Of the verb to season, (of which the true explanation was originally given by Mr. Steevens,) so many instances occur as fully to justify this interpretation. It is used in the same metaphorical sense in Daniel's Cleopatra, a tragedy, 1594: “This that did season all my sour of life &lblank;.” Again, in our author's Romeo and Juliet: “How much salt water thrown away in waste, “To season love, that of it doth not taste!” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; All this to season “A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh “And lasting in her sad remembrance.” Malone. I agree with Steevens that the word seasons, in this place, is used as a verb, but not in his interpretation of the former part of this passage. Imogen's reflection is merely this: “That those are happy who have their honest wills, which gives a relish to comfort; but that those are miserable who set their affections on objects of superior excellence, which are of course, difficult to obtain.” The word honest means plain or humble, and is opposed to glorious. M. Mason.

Note return to page 78 4Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust Leonatus.] Were Leonatus writing to his Steward, this style might be proper; but it is so strange a conclusion of a letter to a princess, and a beloved wife, that it cannot be right. I have no doubt therefore that we ought to read: “&lblank; as you value your truest. “Leonatus.” M. Mason. This emendation is at once so neat and elegant, that I cannot refuse it a place in the text; and especially as it returns an echo to the words of Posthumus when he parted from Imogen, and dwelt so much on his own conjugal fidelity: “&lblank; I will remain “The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.” Steevens. Mr. M. Mason's conjecture would have more weight, if it were certain that these were intended as the concluding words of the letter. It is more probable that what warmed the very middle of the heart of Imogen, formed the conclusion of Posthumus's letter; and the words—so far, and by the rest, support that supposition. Though Imogen reads the name of her husband, she might suppress somewhat that intervened. Nor, indeed, is the adjuration of light import, or unsuitable to a fond husband, supposing it to be the conclusion of the letter. Respect my friend, says Leonatus, as you value the confidence reposed in you by him to whom you have plighted your troth. Malone. It is certain, I think, from the break—“He is one,” &c. that the omitted part of the letter was at the beginning of it; and that what follows (all indeed that was necessary for the audience to hear,) was its regular and decided termination.—Was it not natural, that a young and affectionate husband, writing to a wife whom he adored, should express the feelings of his love, before he proceeded to the detail of his colder business? Steevens. Mr. Steevens forgets that this is not a love letter, written in the ordinary course by Posthumus to Imogen, but a letter of recommendation, written for the express purpose of introducing Iachimo to her. The paragraph therefore, “read aloud,” was probably the very second sentence of her letter, as the first would naturally contain his name and quality—and after he has apprized her who the bearer of his letter is, and requested her to treat him kindly for his sake, he would naturally proceed to that which “warmed the very middle of her heart.” Independent indeed of this consideration, if the learned commentator had been more conversant with these expressions of tenderness, he would have known that there is no part of a letter in which they are more likely to be found than in the end, and that no man who truly loved a woman would let his concluding words treat of the colder business, that had no connexion with his passion. On the contrary, the warmest and most passionate assurances of affection are always found there. Malone.

Note return to page 79 5&lblank; and the rich crop Of sea and land,] He is here speaking of the covering of sea and land. Shakspeare therefore wrote: “&lblank; and the rich cope &lblank;.” Warburton. Surely no emendation is necessary. The vaulted arch is alike the cope or covering of sea and land. When the poet had spoken of it once, could he have thought this second introduction of it necessary? “The crop of sea and land” means only ‘the productions of either element.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 80 6&lblank; and the twinn'd stones Upon the number'd beach?] I have no idea in what sense the beach, or shore, should be called number'd. I have ventured, against all the copies, to substitute— “Upon th' unnumber'd beach?”— i. e. the infinite extensive beach, if we are to understand the epithet as coupled to the word. But, I rather think, the poet intended an hypallage, like that in the beginning of Ovid's Metamorphosis: (In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas Corpora.)— And then we are to understand the passage thus: “and the infinite number of twinn'd stones upon the beach.” Theobald. Sense and the antithesis oblige us to read this nonsense thus: “Upon the humbled beach:”— i. e. because daily insulted from the flow of the tide. Warburton. I know not well how to regulate this passage. Number'd is perhaps numerous. Twinn'd stones I do not understand.— Twinn'd shells, or pairs of shells, are very common. For twinn'd we might read twin'd; that is, twisted, convolved: but this sense is more applicable to shells than to stones. Johnson. The pebbles on the sea shore are so much of the same size and shape, that twinn'd may mean as like as twins. So, in The Maid of the Mill, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; But is it possible that two faces “Should be so twinn'd in form, complexion,” &c. Again, in our author's Coriolanus, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “Are still together, who twin as 'twere in love.” Mr. Heath conjectures the poet might have written—spurn'd stones. He might possibly have written that or any other word. —In Coriolanus, a different epithet is bestowed on the beach: “Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach “Fillop the stars &lblank;.” Dr. Warburton's conjecture may be countenanced by the following passage in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. vii.: “But as he lay upon the humbled grass. Steevens. I think we may read the umbered, the shaded beach. This word is met with in other places. Farmer. Farmer's amendment is ill-imagined. There is no place so little likely to be shaded as the beach of the sea; and therefore umber'd cannot be right. M. Mason. Mr. Theobald's conjecture may derive some support from a passage in King Lear: “&lblank; the murm'ring surge “That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chases &lblank;.” Th' unnumber'd, and the number'd, if hastily pronounced, might easily have been confounded by the ear. If number'd be right, it surely means, as Dr. Johnson has explained it, abounding in numbers of stones; numerous. Malone.

Note return to page 81 7Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allur'd to feed.] i. e. that appetite, which is not allured to feed on such excellence, can have no stomach at all; but, though empty, must nauseate every thing. Warburton. I explain this passage in a sense almost contrary. Iachimo, in this counterfeited rapture, has shown how the eyes and the judgment would determine in favour of Imogen, comparing her with the present mistress of Posthumus, and proceeds to say, that appetite too would give the same suffrage. Desire, says he, when it approached sluttery, and considered it in comparison with such neat excellence, would not only be not so allured to feed, but, seized with a fit of loathing, would vomit emptiness, would feel the convulsions of disgust, though, being unfed, it had no object. Johnson. Dr. Warburton and Dr. Johnson have both taken the pains to give their different senses of this passage; but I am still unable to comprehend how desire, or any other thing, can be made to vomit emptiness. I rather believe the passage should be read thus: “Sluttery to such neat excellence oppos'd, “Should make desire vomit, emptiness “Not so allure to feed.” That is, Should not so, [in such circumstances] allure [even] emptiness to feed. Tyrwhitt. This is not ill conceived; but I think my own explanation right. “To vomit emptiness” is, in the language of poetry, ‘to feel the convulsions of eructation without plenitude.’ Johnson. No one who has been ever sick at sea, can be at a loss to understand what is meant by vomiting emptiness. Dr. Johnson's interpretation would perhaps be more exact, if after the word desire he had added, however hungry, or sharp set. A late editor, Mr. Capell, was so little acquainted with his author, as not to know that Shakspeare here, and in some other places, uses desire as a trisyllable; in consequence of which, he reads—“vomit to emptiness.” Malone. The indelicacy of this passage may be kept in countenance by the following lines and stage-directions in the tragedy of All for Money, by T. Lupton, 1578: “Now will I essay to vomit if I can; “Let him hold your head, and I will hold your stomach,” &c.   “Here Money shall make as though he would vomit.” Again: “Here Pleasure shall make as though he would vomit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 82 8The cloyed will, &c.] The present irregularity of metre has almost persuaded me that this passage originally stood thus: “&lblank; The cloyed will, “(That's satiate, yet unsatisfied, that tub “Both fill'd and running,) ravening first the lamb, “Longs after for the garbage. “What, dear sir,” &c. The want, in the original MS. of the letter I have supplied, perhaps occasioned the interpolation of the word—desire. Steevens.

Note return to page 83 9&lblank; he Is strange and peevish.] He is a foreigner, and easily fretted. Johnson. Strange, I believe, signifies shy or backward. So, Holinshed, p. 735: “&lblank; brake to him his mind in this mischievous matter, in which he found him nothing strange.” Peevish anciently meant weak, silly. So, in Lyly's Endymion, 1591: “Never was any so peevish to imagine the moon either capable of affection, or shape of a mistress.” Again, in his Galatea, [1592,] when a man has given a conceited answer to a plain question, Diana says, “let him alone, he is but peevish.” Again, in his Love's Metamorphosis, 1601: “In the heavens I saw an orderly course, in the earth nothing but disorderly love and peevishness.” Again, in Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “We have infinite poets and pipers, and such peevish cattel among us in Englande.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors: “How now! a madman! why thou peevish sheep, “No ship of Epidamnum stays for me.” Steevens. Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1617, explains peevish by foolish. So again, in our author's King Richard III.: “When Richmond was a little peevish boy.” So also in Henry VI. Third Part, Act V. Sc. I.: “Why what a peevish fool was that of Crete.” Strange is again used by our author in his Venus and Adonis, in the sense in which Mr. Steevens supposes it to be used here: “Measure my strangeness by my unripe years.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “I'll prove more true “Than those that have more cunning to be strange.” But I doubt whether the word was intended to bear that sense here. Malone. Johnson's explanation of strange [he is a foreigner] is certainly right. Iachimo uses it again in the latter end of this scene: “And I am something curious, being strange, “To have them in safe stowage.” Here also strange evidently means, being a stranger. M. Mason.

Note return to page 84 1&lblank; he is call'd The Briton reveller.] So, in Chaucer's Coke's Tale, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 4369: “That he was cleped Perkin revelour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 85 2&lblank; he furnaces The thick sighs from him;] So, in Chapman's preface to his translation of the Shield of Homer, 1598; “&lblank; furnaceth the universall sighes and complaintes of this transposed world.” Steevens. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; And then the lover, “Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad.” Malone.

Note return to page 86 3&lblank; laughs &lblank; cries, O! Can my sides hold, &c.] Hence, perhaps, Milton's— “&lblank; Laughter holding both his sides.” Steevens. So, in Troilus and Cressida, vol. viii. p. 266: “&lblank; O!—enough, Patroclus; “Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all “In pleasure of my spleen &lblank;.” Harris.

Note return to page 87 4&lblank; In himself, 'tis much;] If he merely regarded his own character, without any consideration of his wife, his conduct would be unpardonable. Malone.

Note return to page 88 5&lblank; count &lblank;] Old copy—account. Steevens.

Note return to page 89 6&lblank; timely knowing,] Rather—timely known. Johnson. I believe Shakspeare wrote—known, and that the transcriber's ear deceived him here as in many other places. Malone.

Note return to page 90 7&lblank; For certainties Either are past remedies; or,timely knowing, The remedy then born,] We should read, I think: “The remedy's then born &lblank;.” Malone. Perhaps the meaning is, as I have pointed the passage: “&lblank; For certainties “Either are past remedy; or timely knowing “The remedy, then borne.” They are either past all remedy; or, the remedy being timely suggested to us by the knowing them, they are the more easily borne. J. Boaden.

Note return to page 91 8What both you spur and stop.] What it is that at once incites you to speak, and restrains you from it. Johnson. This kind of ellipsis is common in these plays. What both you spur and stop at, the poet means. See a note on Act II. Sc. III. Malone. The meaning is, ‘what you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold.’ M. Mason. The allusion is to horsemanship. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book i.: “She was like a horse desirous to runne, and miserably spurred, but so short-reined, as he cannot stirre forward.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Epigram to the Earl of Newcastle: “Provoke his mettle, and command his force.” Steevens.

Note return to page 92 9&lblank; this hand, whose touch, &lblank; would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty?] There is, I think, here a reference to the manner in which the tenant performed homage to his lord. “The lord sate, while the vassal kneeling on both knees before him, held his hands jointly together between the hands of his lord, and swore to be faithful and loyal.” See Coke upon Littleton, sect. 85. Unless this allusion be allowed, how has touching the hand the slightest connection with taking the oath of loyalty? Holt White. The very touch of such a hand would make the feeler swear to be true. Boswell.

Note return to page 93 1Fixing it only here:] The old copy has—Fiering. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 94 2&lblank; as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol;] Shakspeare has bestowed some ornament on the proverbial phrase “as common as the highway.” Steevens.

Note return to page 95 3&lblank; join gripes with hands, &c.] The old edition reads: “&lblank; join gripes with hands “Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood as “With labour) then by peeping in an eye,” &c. I read: “&lblank; then lie peeping &lblank;.” Hard with falsehood, is, ‘hard by being often griped with frequent change of hands.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 96 4Base and unlustrous &lblank;] Old copy—illustrious. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. That illustrious was not used by our author in the sense of industrous or unlustrous, is proved by a passage in the old comedy of Patient Grissell, 1603: “&lblank; the buttons were illustrious and resplendent diamonds.” Malone. A “lack-lustre eye” has been already mentioned in As You Like It. Steevens.

Note return to page 97 5&lblank; to an empery,] Empery is a word signifying sovereign command; now obsolete. Shakspeare uses it in King Richard III.: “Your right of birth, your empery, your own.” Steevens.

Note return to page 98 6With tomboys,] We still call a masculine, a forward girl, tomboy. So, in Middleton's Game at Chess: “Made threescore year a tomboy, a mere wanton.” Again, in W. Warren's Nurcerie of Names, 1581: “She comes not unto Bacchus' feastes,   “Or Flora's routes by night, “Like tomboyes such as lives in Rome   “For euery knaues delight.” Again, in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “If thou should'st rigg up and down in our jackets, thou would'st be thought a very tomboy.” Again, in Lady Alimony: “What humourous tomboys be these?— “The only gallant Messalinas of our age.” It appears from several of the old plays and ballads, that the ladies of pleasure, in the time of Shakspeare, often wore the habits of young men. So, in an ancient bl. l. ballad, entitled The Scout Cripple of Cornwall: “And therefore kept them secretlie   “To feede his fowle desire, “Apparell'd all like gallant youthes,   “In pages' trim attyre. “He gave them for their cognizance   “A purple bleeding heart, “In which two silver arrows seem'd   “The same in twaine to part. “Thus secret were his wanton sports,   “Thus private was his pleasure; “Thus harlots in the shape of men   “Did waft away his treasure.” Verstegan, however, gives the following etymology of the word tomboy: “Tumbe. To dance. Tumbod, danced; hereof we yet call a wench that skippeth or leapeth lyke a boy, a tomboy: our name also of tumbling cometh from hence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 99 7&lblank; hir'd with that self-exhibition, &c.] Gross strumpets, hired with the very pension which you allow your husband. Johnson.

Note return to page 100 8&lblank; such boil'd stuff,] The allusion is to the ancient process of sweating in venereal cases. See Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. III. So, in The Old Law, by Massinger: “&lblank; look parboil'd, “As if they came from Cupid's scalding-house.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase indeed.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens as you are.” All this stuff about boiling, scalding, &c. is a mere play on stew, a word which is afterwards used for a brothel by Imogen. Steevens. The words may mean,—such corrupted stuff; from the substantive boil. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; boils and plagues “Plaster you o'er!” But, I believe, Mr. Steevens's interpretation is the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 101 9Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets;] Sir Thomas Hanmer, supposing this to be an inaccurate expression, reads: “Live like Diana's priestess 'twixt cold sheets;” but the text is as the author wrote it. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Diana says: “My temple stands at Ephesus; hie thee thither; “There, when my maiden priests are met together,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 102 1Let me my service tender on your lips.] Perhaps this is an allusion to the ancient custom of swearing servants into noble families. So, in Caltha Poetarum, &c. 1599: “&lblank; she swears him to his good abearing, “Whilst her faire sweet lips were the books of swearing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 103 2As in a Romish stew,] Romish was, in the time of Shakspeare, used instead of Roman. There were stews at Rome in the time of Augustus. The same phrase occurs in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “&lblank; my mother deem'd me chang'd, “Poor woman! in the loathsome Romish stewes:” and the author of this piece seems to have been a scholar. Again, in Wit In A Constable, by Glapthorne, 1640: “A Romish cirque, or Grecian hippodrome.” Again, Thomas Drant's translation of the first epistle of the second book of Horace, 1567: “The Romishe people wise in this, in this point only just.” Steevens.

Note return to page 104 3&lblank; and a daughter whom &lblank;] Old copy—who. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 105 4&lblank; such a holy witch, That he enchants societies unto him:] So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; he did in the general bosom reign “Of young and old, and sexes both enchanted— “Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted.” Malone.

Note return to page 106 5&lblank; like a descended god:] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; a station like the herald Mercury, “New lighted on a heaven kissing-hill.” The old copy has—defended. The correction was made by the editor of the second folio. Defend is again printed for descend, in the last scene of Timon of Athens. Malone. So, in Chapman's version of the twenty-third book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; as he were “A god descended from the starry sphere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 107 6&lblank; taking a &lblank;] Old copy, vulgarly and unmetrically, “&lblank; taking of a &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 108 7&lblank; best feather of our wing &lblank;] So, in Churchyard's Warning to Wanderers Abroad, 1593: “You are so great you would faine march in fielde, “That world should judge you feathers of one wing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 109 8&lblank; being strange,] i. e. being a stranger. Steevens.

Note return to page 110 9&lblank; kissed the jack upon an up-cast,] He is describing his fate at bowls. The jack is the small bowl at which the others are aimed. He who is nearest to it wins. “To kiss the jack” is a state of great advantage. Johnson. This expression frequently occurs in the old comedies. So, in A Woman Never Vex'd, by Rowley, 1632; “This city bowler has kissed the mistress at the first cast.” Steevens.

Note return to page 111 1No, my lord, &c.] This, I believe, should stand thus: “1 Lord. No, my lord. “2 Lord. Nor crop the ears of them. [Aside.” Johnson.

Note return to page 112 2I give him satisfaction?] Old copy—gave. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. Perhaps this is a ludicrous use of the duellist's phrase, ‘I gave him satisfaction; I broke his pate with my bowl.’ Boswell.

Note return to page 113 3To have smelt &lblank;] A poor quibble on the word rank in the preceding speech. Malone. The same quibble has already occurred in As You Like It, Act I. Sc. II.: “Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank— “Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 114 4&lblank; with your comb on.] The allusion is to a fool's cap, which hath a comb like a cock's. Johnson. The intention of the speaker is to call Cloten a coxcomb. M. Mason.

Note return to page 115 5&lblank; every companion &lblank;] The use of companion was the same as of fellow now. It was a word of contempt. Johnson. It occurs with this meaning frequently in Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 116 6From fairies, and the tempters of the night,] Banquo, in Macbeth, has already deprecated the same nocturnal evils: “Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature “Gives way to in repose!” Steevens.

Note return to page 117 7&lblank; our Tarquin &lblank;] The speaker is an Italian. Johnson.

Note return to page 118 8&lblank; Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes,] This shows that Shakspeare's idea was, that the ravishing strides of Tarquin were softly ones, and may serve as a comment on that passage in Macbeth. See vol. xi. p. 98, n. 9. Blackstone. “&lblank; the rushes.” It was the custom in the time of our author to strew chambers with rushes, as we now cover them with carpets: the practice is mentioned in Caius de Ephemera Britannica. Johnson. So, in Thomas Newton's Herball to the Bible, 8vo. 1587: “Sedge and rushes,—with the which many in this country do use in sommer time to strawe their parlors and churches, as well for coolenes as for pleasant smell.” Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; his blood remains. “Why strew rushes.” Again, in Bussy d'Ambois, 1607: “Were not the king here, he should strew the chamber like a rush.” Shakspeare has the same circumstance in his Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; by the light he spies “Lucretia's glove wherein her needle sticks; “He takes it from the rushes where it lies,”&c. The ancient English stage also, as appears from more than one passage in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609, was strewn with rushes; “Salute all your gentle acquaintance that are spred either on the rushes or on stooles about you, and drawe what troope you can from the stage after you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 119 9&lblank; Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! And whiter than the sheets!] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Who sees his true love in her naked bed, “Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Who o'er the white sheets peers her whiter chin.” Malone. Thus, also, Jaffier, in Venice Preserved: “&lblank; in virgin sheets, “White as her bosom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 120 1&lblank; 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus:] The same hyperbole is found in The Metamorphosis of Pygmalion's Image, by J. Marston, 1598: “&lblank; no lips did seem so fair “In his conceit; through which he thinks doth flie “So sweet a breath that doth perfume the air.” Malone.

Note return to page 121 2&lblank; now canopied &lblank;] Shakspeare has the same expression in Tarquin and Lucrece: “Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light, “And canopied in darkness, sweetly lay, “Till they might open to adorn the day.” Malone.

Note return to page 122 3Under these windows:] i. e. her eyelids. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thy eyes' windows fall, “Like death, when he shuts up the day of life.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day; “Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth.” Malone.

Note return to page 123 4&lblank; White and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct.] We should read: “&lblank; White with azure lac'd, “The blue of heaven's own tinct.” i. e. the white skin laced with blue veins. Warburton. So, in Macbeth: “His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood.” The passage before us, without Dr. Warburton's emendation, is, to me at least, unintelligible. Steevens. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “What envious streaks do lace the severing clouds.” These words, I apprehend, refer not to Imogen's eye-lids, (of which the poet would scarcely have given so particular a description,) but to the inclosed lights, i. e. her eyes: which though now shut, Iachimo had seen before, and which are here said in poetical language to be blue, and that blue celestial. Dr. Warburton is of opinion that the eye-lid was meant, and according to his notion, the poet intended to praise its white skin, and blue veins. Drayton, who has often imitated Shakspeare, seems to have viewed this passage in the same light: “And these sweet veins by nature rightly plac'd, “Wherewith she seems the white skin to have lac'd, “She soon doth alter.” The Mooncalf, 1627. Malone. We learn from a quotation in n. 3, that by blue windows were meant blue eye-lids; and indeed our author has dwelt on corresponding imagery in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; violets, dim, “But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes.” A particular description, therefore, of the same objects, might, in the present instance, have been designed. Thus, in Chapman's translation of the twenty-third book of Homer's Odyssey, Minerva is the person described: “&lblank; the Dame “That bears the blue sky intermix'd with flame “In her fair eyes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 124 5&lblank; The arras, figures, Why, such, and such:] We should print, says Mr. M. Mason, thus: “&lblank; the arras-figures;” that is, the figures of the arras. But, I think, he is mistaken. It appears from what Iachimo says afterwards, that he had noted, not only the figures of the arras, but the stuff of which the arras was composed: “&lblank; It was hang'd “With tapestry of silk and silver; the story “Proud Cleopatra,” &c. Again, in Act V.: “&lblank; averring notes “Of chamber-hanging, pictures,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 125 6&lblank; but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying!] Shakspeare was here thinking of the recumbent whole-length figures, which in his time were usually placed on the tombs of considerable persons. The head was always reposed upon a pillow. He has again the same allusion in his Rape of Lucrece: “Where like a virtuous monument she lies, “To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.” See also vol. viii. p. 430. n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 126 7&lblank; On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted,] Our author certainly took this circumstance from some translation of Boccacio's novel; for it does not occur in the imitation printed in Westward for Smelts, which the reader will find at the end of this play. In the Decamerone, Ambrogioulo, (the Iachimo of our author,) who is concealed in a chest in the chamber of Madonna Gineura, (whereas in Westward for Smelts the contemner of female chastity hides himself under the lady's bed,) wishing to discover some particular mark about her person, which might help him to deceive her husband, “at last espied a large mole under her left breast, with several hairs round it, of the colour of gold.” Though this mole is said in the present passage to be on Imogen's breast, in the account that Iachimo afterwards gives to Posthumus, our author has adhered closely to his original: “&lblank; under her breast “(Worthy the pressing) lies a mole, right proud “Of that most delicate lodging.” Malone.

Note return to page 127 8&lblank; like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip:] This simile contains the smallest out of a thousand proofs that Shakspeare was an observer of nature, though, in this instance, no very accurate describer of it, for the drops alluded to are of a deep yellow. Steevens.

Note return to page 128 9&lblank; She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus:] Tereus and Progne is the second tale in A Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, printed in quarto, in 1576. The same tale is related in Gower's poem De Confessione Amantis, b. v. fol. 113, b. and in Ovid's Metamorphoses, l. vi. Malone.

Note return to page 129 1&lblank; you dragons of the night!] The task of drawing the chariot of night was assigned to dragons, on account of their supposed watchfulness. Milton mentions “the dragon yoke of night” in Il Penseroso; and in his Masque at Ludlow Castle: “&lblank; the dragon womb “Of Stygian darkness.” Again, In Obitum Præsulis Eliensis: &lblank; sub pedibus deam Vidi triformem, dum coërcebat suos   Frænis dracones aureis. It may be remarked, that the whole tribe of serpents sleep with their eyes open, and therefore appear to exert a constant vigilance. Steevens.

Note return to page 130 2&lblank; that dawning May bare the raven's eye:] The old copy has—beare. The correction was proposed by Mr. Theobald: and I think properly adopted by Sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Johnson. Malone. The poet means no more than that the light might wake the raven; or, as it is poetically expressed, bare his eye. Steevens. It is well known that the raven is a very early bird, perhaps earlier than the lark. Our poet says of the crow, (a bird whose properties resemble very much those of the raven,) in his Troilus and Cressida: “O Cressida, but that the busy day “Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribbald crows &lblank;.” Heath.

Note return to page 131 3One, two, three,] Our author is often careless in his computation of time. Just before Imogen went to sleep, she asked her attendant what hour it was, and was informed by her, it was almost midnight. Iachimo, immediately after she has fallen asleep, comes from the trunk, and the present soliloquy cannot have consumed more than a few minutes:—yet we are now told that it is three o'clock. Malone.

Note return to page 132 4Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,] The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradise Lost, book v.: “&lblank; ye birds “That singing up to heaven's gate ascend.” Again, in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet: “Like to the lark at break of day arising “From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.” Steevens. Perhaps Shakspeare had Lyly's Alexander and Campaspe in his mind, when he wrote this song: “&lblank; who is't now we hear; “None but the lark so shril and clear; “Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings, “The morn not waking till she sings. “Hark, hark &lblank;.” Reed. In this Song, Shakspeare might have imitated some of the following passages: “The besy larke, the messager of day, “Saleweth in hire song the morwe gray; “And firy Phebus riseth up so bright,” &c. Chaucer's Knight's Tale, v. 1493, Tyrwhitt's edit. “Lyke as the larke upon the somers daye “Whan Titan radiant burnisheth his bemes bright, “Mounteth on hye, with her melodious laye “Of the sone shyne engladed with the lyght.” Skelton's Crowne of Laurel. “Wake now my love, awake; for it is time, “The rosy morne long since left Tithon's bed, “Allready to her silver coach to clime; “And Phœbus 'gins to shew his glorious head. “Harke, how the cheerful birds do chaunt their layes, “And carol of love's praise. “The merry larke her mattins sings aloft,— “Ah my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long “When meeter were they ye should now awake.” Spenser's Epithalamium. Again, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Lo here the gentle lark, weary of rest, “From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, “And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast “The sun ariseth in his majesty.” am unable to decide whether the following lines in Du Bartas were written before Shakspeare's song, or not: La gentille alouette avec son tire-lire, Tire-lire, à lirè, et tire-lirant tire, Vers la voute du ciel, puis son vol vers ce lieu Vire, et desire dire adieu Dieu, adieu Dieu. Douce. These lines of Du Bartas were certainly written before Shakspeare's song. They are quoted in Elyot's Orthoepia Gallica, 4to. 1593, p. 146, with the following translation: “The pretie larke mans angrie mood doth charme with melodie “Her Tee-ree-lee-ree, Tee ree lee ree chirppring in the skie “Up to the court of Jove, sweet bird mounting with flickering wings “And downe againe, my Jove adieu, sweet love adieu she sings.” Reed.

Note return to page 133 5His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies;] i. e. the morning sun dries up the dew which lies in the cups of flowers. Warburton. It may be noted that the cup of a flower is called calix, whence chalice. Johnson. “&lblank; those springs “On chalic'd flowers that lies.” It may be observed, with regard to this apparent false concord, that in very old English, the third person plural of the present tense endeth in eth, as well as the singular: and often familiarly in es, as might be exemplified from Chaucer, &c. Nor was this antiquated idiom worn out in our author's time, as appears from the following passage in Romeo and Juliet: “And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, “Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.” as well as from many others in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Percy. Dr. Percy might have added, that the third person plural of the Anglo-Saxon present tense ended in eth, and of the Dano-Saxon in es, which seems to be the original of such very ancient English idioms. Tollet. Shakspeare frequently offends in this manner against the rules of grammar. So, in Venus and Adonis: “She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, “Where lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies.” Steevens. There is scarcely a page of our author's works in which similar false concords may not be found: nor is this inaccuracy peculiar to his works, being found in many other books of his time and of the preceding age. Following the example of all the former editors, I have silently corrected the error, in all places except where either the metre, or rhyme, rendered correction impossible. Whether it is to be attributed to the poet or his printer, it is such a gross offence against grammar, as no modern eye or ear could have endured, if from a wish to exhibit our author's writings with strict fidelity it had been preserved. The reformation therefore, it is hoped, will be pardoned, and considered in the same light as the substitution of modern for ancient orthography. Malone.

Note return to page 134 6And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes;] The marigold is supposed to shut itself up at sun-set. So, in one of Browne's Pastorals: “&lblank; the day is waxen olde, “And 'gins to shut up with the marigold.” A similar idea is expressed more at large in a very scarce book entitled, A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels: conteyning fiue Tragicall Histories, &c. Translated from the French, by H. W. [Henry Wotton] 4to. 1578, p. 7: “&lblank; floures which unfolding their tender leaues, at the breake of the gray morning, seemed to open their smiling eies, which were oppressed wyth the drowsinesse of the passed night.” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 135 7&lblank; pretty bin:] Is very properly restored by Sir Thomas Hanmer, for pretty is; but he too grammatically reads: “With all the things that pretty bin.” Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. i.: “That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.” Again, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “Sir, you may boast your flockes and herdes, that bin both fresh and fair.” Again: “As fresh as bin the flowers in May.” Again: “Oenone, while we bin disposed to walk.” Kirkman ascribes this piece to Shakspeare. The real author was George Peele. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 8&lblank; I will consider your musick the better:] i. e. I will pay you more amply for it. So, in The Winter's Tale, Act IV.: “&lblank; being something gently considered, I'll bring you,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 137 9&lblank; cats-guts,] The old copy reads—calves-guts. Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. In the preceding line voice, which was printed instead of vice, was corrected by the same editor. Malone.

Note return to page 138 1To orderly solicits;] i. e. regular courtship, courtship after the established fashion. Steevens. The oldest copy reads—solicity. The correction was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 139 2&lblank; and be friended, &c.] We should read: “&lblank; and befriended “With aptness of the season.” That is, “with solicitations not only proper but well timed.” So Terence says: “In tempore and eam veni, quod omnium rerum est primum.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 140 3And towards himself his goodness forespent on us We must extend our notice.] i. e. The good offices done by him to us heretofore. Warburton. That is, we must extend towards himself our notice of his goodness heretofore shown to us. Our author has many similar ellipses. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Thine honourable metal may be wrought “From what it is dispos'd [to].” See again, in this play, p. 83. Malone.

Note return to page 141 4&lblank; false themselves,] Perhaps, in this instance false is not an adjective, but a verb; and as such is as used in The Comedy of Errors: “Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.” Act II. Sc. II. Spenser often has it: “Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjury.” Steevens. So, in Tamburlaine, Part I.: “And he that could with gifts and promises, “Inveigle him that had a thousand horse, “And make him false his faith unto the king.” Malone.

Note return to page 142 5&lblank; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.] i. e. A man who is taught forbearance should learn it. Johnson.

Note return to page 143 6Fools are not mad folks.] This, as Cloten very well understands it, is a covert mode of calling him fool. The meaning implied is this: If I am mad, as you tell me, I am what you can never be, “Fools are not mad folks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 144 7&lblank; so verbal:] Is, so verbose, so full of talk. Johnson.

Note return to page 145 8The contract, &c.] Here Shakspeare has not preserved, with his common nicety, the uniformity of his character. The speech of Cloten is rough and harsh, but certainly not the talk of one— “Who can't take two from twenty, for his heart, “And leave eighteen &lblank;” His argument is just and well enforced, and its prevalence is allowed throughout all civil nations: as for rudeness, he seems not to be much undermatched. Johnson.

Note return to page 146 9&lblank; in self-figur'd knot;] This is nonsense. We should read—self-finger'd knot, i. e. A knot solely of their own tying, without any regard to parents, or other more publick considerations. Warburton. But why nonsense? A self-figured knot is a knot formed by yourself. Johnson.

Note return to page 147 1&lblank; soil &lblank;] Old copy—foil. See vol. xii. p. 201, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 148 2A hilding for a livery,] A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery, and serve as a lacquey. See vol. v. p. 412, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 149 3&lblank; if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues,] If it were considered as a compensation adequate to your virtues, to be styled, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 150 4Were they all made such men.—How now, Pisanio?] Sir T. Hanmer regulates this line thus: “&lblank; all such men, “Clot. How now? “Imo. Pissanio!” Johnson.

Note return to page 151 5I am sprighted with a fool;] i. e. I am haunted by a fool, as by a spright. Over-sprighted is a word that occurs in Law Tricks, &c. 1608. Again, in our author's Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Julius Cæsar, “Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted.” Steevens.

Note return to page 152 6&lblank; a jewel, that too casually Hath left mine arm;] That hath accidentally fallen from my arm by my too great negligence. Malone.

Note return to page 153 7Last night 'twas on my arm; I kiss'd it:] Arm is here used by Shakspeare as a dissyllable. Malone. I must on this occasion repeat my protest against the whole tribe of such unauthorized and unpronounceable dissyllabifications. I would read the now imperfect line before us, as I suppose it came from our author: “Last night it was upon mine arm; I kiss'd it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 154 8&lblank; call witness to't.] I cannot help regarding the redundant —to't, as an interpolation. The sense is obvious and the metre perfect without it. Steevens.

Note return to page 155 9She's my good lady;] This is said ironically. “My good lady” is equivalent to—my good friend. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; and when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.” Malone.

Note return to page 156 1Quake in the present winter's state, and wish That warmer days would come:] I believe we should read winter-state, not winter's state. M. Mason.

Note return to page 157 2He'll grant the tribute,] See p. 9, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 158 3Or look &lblank;] This the modern editors had changed into E'er look. Or is used for e'er. So, Gawin Douglas, in his translation of Virgil: “&lblank; sufferit he also, “Or he his goddess brocht in Latio.” See also King John, Act IV. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 159 4(Statist &lblank;] i. e. Statesman. See note on Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 489. Steevens.

Note return to page 160 5The legions,] Old copy—legion. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. So, afterwards: “And that the legions now in Gallia are “Full weak to undertake our war,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 161 6&lblank; mingled with their courages)] The old folio has this odd reading: “&lblank; Their discipline “(Now wing-led with their courages) will make known &lblank;.” Johnson. “Their discipline (now wing-led by their courages)” may mean ‘their discipline borrowing wings from their courage;’ i. e. their military knowledge being animated by their natural bravery. Steevens. The same error that has happened here being often found in these plays, I have not hesitated to adopt the emendation which was made by Mr. Rowe, and received by all the subsequent editors. Thus we have in the last Act of King John, wind, instead of mind; in Antony and Cleopatra, winds, instead of minds; in Measure for Measure, flawes, instead of flames, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 162 7To their approvers,] i. e. To those who try them. Warburton.

Note return to page 163 8The swiftest harts have posted you by land, And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble.] From this remark our author appears to have been conscious of his glaring offence against one of the unities, in the precipitate return of Iachimo from the court of Cymbeline. Steevens.

Note return to page 164 9Is one the fairest, &c.] So, p. 57: “&lblank; And he is one “The truest manner'd &lblank;” The interpolated old copy, however, reads, to the injury of the metre: “&lblank; Is one of the fairest,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 165 1&lblank; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts,] So, in Timon of Athens: “Let not those milk paps, “That through the window bars bore at men's eyes, “Make soft thy trenchant sword.” Malone.

Note return to page 166 2Phi. Was Caius Lucius, &c.] This speech in the old copy is given to Posthumus. I have transferred it to Philario, to whom it certainly belongs, on the suggestion of Mr. Steevens, who justly observes that “Posthumus was employed in reading his letters.” Malone.

Note return to page 167 3But not approach'd.] Sir Thomas Hanmer supplies the apparent defect in this line by reading: “But was not yet approach'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 168 4&lblank; knowledge &lblank;] This word is here used in its scriptural acceptation: “And Adam knew Eve his wife: &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 169 5Had that was well worth watching,] i. e. that which was well worth watching, or lying awake for. See p. 73, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 170 6And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride:] Iachimo's language is such as a skilful villain would naturally use, a mixture of airy triumph and serious deposition. His gaiety shows his seriousness to be without anxiety, and his seriousness proves his gaiety to be without art. Johnson.

Note return to page 171 7&lblank; which, I wonder'd, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was &lblank;] This passage is nonsense as it stands, and therefore the editors have supposed to be an imperfect sentence. But I believe we should amend it by reading— “Such the true life on't was.” instead of since. We frequently say the life of a picture, or of a statue; and without alteration the sentence is not complete. M. Mason.

Note return to page 172 8This is true;] The present deficiency in the metre, shows that some word has been accidentally omitted in this or in the preceding hemistich. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “Why this is true.” Steevens.

Note return to page 173 9So likely to report themselves:] So near to speech. The Italians call a portrait, when the likeness is remarkable, a speaking picture. Johnson.

Note return to page 174 1Was as another nature, dumb;] The meaning is this: The sculptor was as nature, but as nature dumb; he gave every thing that nature gives, but breath and motion. In breath is included speech. Johnson.

Note return to page 175 2With golden cherubins is fretted:] The same tawdry image occurs again in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; their dwarfish pages were “As cherubins, all gilt.” The sole recommendation of this Gothick idea, which is tritically repeated by modern artists, seems to be, that it occupies but little room on canvas or marble; for chubby unmeaning faces, with ducks' wings tucked under them, are all the circumstances that enter into the composition of such infantine and absurd representatives of the choirs of heaven. Steevens. “&lblank; fretted:” So again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire &lblank;.” So, Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. ch. ix.: “In a long purple pall, whose skirt with gold “Was fretted all about, she was array'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 176 3&lblank; nicely Depending on their brands.] I am not sure that I understand this passage. Perhaps Shakspeare meant that the figures of the Cupids were nicely poized on their inverted torches, one of the legs of each being taken off the ground, which might render such a support necessary. Steevens. I have equal difficulty with Mr. Steevens in explaining this passage. Here seems to be a kind of tautology. I take brands to be a part of the andirons, on which the wood for the fire was supported, as the upper part, in which was a kind of rack to carry a spit, is more properly termed the andiron. These irons, on which the wood lies across, generally called dogs, are here termed brands. Whalley. It should seem from a passage in The Black Book, a pamphlet published in 1604, that andirons in our author's time were sometimes formed in the shape of human figures: “&lblank; ever and anon turning about to the chimney, where he sawe a paire of corpulent gigantick andirons, that stood like two burgomasters at both corners.” Instead of these corpulent burgomasters, Imogen had Cupids. The author of the pamphlet might, however, only have meant that the andirons he describes were uncommonly large. Malone.

Note return to page 177 4This is her honour!—] The expression is ironical. Iachimo relates many particulars, to which Posthumus answers with impatience: “This is her honour!”— That is, And the attainment of this knowledge is to pass for the corruption of her honour. Johnson.

Note return to page 178 5Let it be granted, &c.] Surely, for the sake of metre, we should read, with some former editor [Mr. Capell]: “Be it granted.” Steevens.

Note return to page 179 6&lblank; if you can, Be pale;] If you can forbear to flush your cheek with rage. Johnson. I rather think it means—if you can controul your temper, if you can restrain yourself within bounds. To pale is commonly used for to confine or surround. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky enclips.” The adjective is, I think, employed in the sense which I have ascribed to it, in Macbeth: “Cancel and tear in pieces that great bond “Which keeps me pale.” Boswell.

Note return to page 180 7And yet enrich'd it too:] The adverb—too, which hurts the metre, might safely be omitted, the expression being sufficiently forcible without it. Steevens.

Note return to page 181 8&lblank; The vows of women &lblank;] The love vowed by women no more abides with him to whom it is vowed, than women adhere to their virtue. Johnson.

Note return to page 182 9&lblank; if one of her women,] Of was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 183 1Hath stolen it from her.] Sir Thomas Hanmer (for some words are here deficient) has perfected the metre by reading: “Might not have stolen it from her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 184 2&lblank; her attendants are All sworn, and honourable:] It was anciently the custom for the attendants on our nobility and other great personages (as it is now for the servants of the king) to take an oath of fidelity, on their entrance into office. In the household book of the 5th Earl of Northumberland (compiled A. D. 1512) it is expressly ordered [p. 49] that “what person soever he be that commyth to my Lordes service, that incontynent after he be intred in the chequyrroull [check-roll] that he be sworn in the countynge-hous by a gentillman-usher or yeman-usher in the presence of the hede officers; and on theire absence before the clerke of the kechynge either by such an oath as is in the Book of Othes, yff any such [oath] be, or ells by such an oth as thei shall seyme beste by their discretion.” Even now every servant of the king's, at his first appointment is sworn in, before a gentleman usher, at the lord chamberlain's office. Percy.

Note return to page 185 3The cognizance &lblank;] The badge; the token; the visible proof. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 186 4(Worthy the pressing,)] Thus the modern editions. The old folio reads: “(Worthy her pressing,) &lblank;” Johnson. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. The compositor was probably thinking of the word her in the preceding line, which he had just composed. Malone.

Note return to page 187 5&lblank; pervert the present wrath &lblank;] i. e. turn his wrath to another course. Malone. To pervert, I believe, only signifies to avert his wrath from himself, without any idea of turning it against another person. To what other course it could have been diverted by the advice of Philario and Iachimo, Mr. Malone has not informed us. Steevens. If they turned the wrath he had against himself to patience or fortitude, they would turn it to another course; I had not said a word about turning it against any other person. Malone.

Note return to page 188 6Is there no way, &c.] Milton was very probably indebted to this speech for one of the sentiments which he has imparted to Adam, Paradise Lost, book x.: “&lblank; O, why did God, “Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven “With spirits masculine, create at last “This novelty on earth, this fair defect “Of nature, and not fill the world at once “With men, as angels, without feminine, “Or find some other way to generate “Mankind?” See also, Rhodomont's invective against women, in the Orlando Furioso; and above all, a speech which Euripides has put into the mouth of Hippolytus, in the tragedy that bears his name. Steevens.

Note return to page 189 7&lblank; We are bastards all;] Old copies—We are all bastards. The necessary transposition of the word—all, was Mr. Pope's. Steevens.

Note return to page 190 8&lblank; was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit:] We have again the same image in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; It were as good “To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen “A man already made, as to remit “Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, “In stamps that are forbid.” Malone. This image is by no means uncommon. It particularly occurs in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sect. 3: “Severus the Emperor in his time made lawes for the restraint of this vice; and as Dion Cassius relates in his life, tria miltia moechorum, three-thousand cuckold-makers, or naturæ monetam adulterantes, as Philo calls them, false coiners and clippers of nature's mony, were summoned into the court at once.” Steevens.

Note return to page 191 9Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn;] A useless note on this speech [by Mr. Whalley,] which would make our poet equally vulgar and obscene, when he was expressing a sentiment of the most refined delicacy, may be well dispensed with in any future edition. Douce. I have not hesitated to adopt Mr. Douce's suggestion. Mr. Whalley's imaginations must have been “as foul as Vulcan's stithy;” when he attempted to discover in this beautiful passage the language of a brothel. Boswell.

Note return to page 192 1&lblank; a German one,] Here, as in many other places, we have—on in the old copy, instead of—one. See King John, Act III. Sc. III. In King Henry IV. Part II. Falstaff assures Mrs. Quickly, that “&lblank; the German hunting in water-work is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings.” In other places, where our author has spoken of the hunting of the boar, a German one must have been in his thoughts, for the boar was never, I apprehend, hunted in England. Mr. Pope and Dr. Warburton read—a churning on; and, what is still more extraordinary, this strange sophistication has found its way into Dr. Johnson's most valuable Dictionary. Malone. The copy of Shakspeare which Dr. Johnson made use of in selecting quotations for his Dictionary, was Dr. Warburton's edition: it is now in my possession, and has occasioned more errors than that which is here pointed out. Boswell.

Note return to page 193 2&lblank; and mounted:] Let Homer, on this occasion, keep our author in countenance: &GRAs;&grr;&grn;&gre;&gri;&grog;&grn;, &grt;&gra;&gruc;&grr;&groa;&grn; &grt;&gre;, &grs;&gru;&grwc;&grn; &grt;&grap; &gres;&grp;&gri;&grb;&grha;&grt;&gro;&grr;&gra; &grk;&gra;&grp;&grr;&gro;&grn;. Odyss. xxiii. 278. Thus translated by Chapman: “A lambe, a bull, and sow-ascending bore.” Steevens.

Note return to page 194 3&lblank; that may be nam'd,] Thus the second folio. The first, with its usual disposition to blundering: “All faults that name.” I have met with no instance in the English language, even tending to prove that the verb—to name, ever signified—to have a name. Steevens.

Note return to page 195 5&lblank; to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better.] So, in Sir Thomas More's Comfort against Tribulation: “God could not lightly do a man more vengeance, than in this world to grant him his own foolish wishes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 196 6Now say, what would Augustus Cæsar with us?] So, in King John: “Now say, Chatillon, what would France with us?” Steevens.

Note return to page 197 7&lblank; thine uncle,] Cassibelan was great uncle to Cymbeline, who was son to Tenantius, the nephew of Cassibelan. See p. 9, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 198 8With rocks unscaleable,] This reading is Sir T. Hanmer's. The old editions have: “With oaks unscaleable.” Johnson. “The strength of our land consists of our seamen in their wooden forts and castles; our rocks, shelves, and sirtes, that lye along our coasts; and our trayned bands.” From chapter 109 of Bariffe's Military Discipline, 1639, seemingly from Tooke's Legend of Britomart. Tollet.

Note return to page 199 9(Poor ignorant baubles!)] Unacquainted with the nature of our boisterous seas. Johnson.

Note return to page 200 1(O, giglot fortune!)] O false and inconstant fortune! A giglot was a strumpet. So, in Measure for Measure, vol. ix. p. 197: “Away with those giglots too.” So, also, in Hamlet: “Out, out, thou strumpet fortune!” Malone.

Note return to page 201 2The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point &lblank; to master Cæsar's sword,] Shakspeare has here transferred to Cassibelan an adventure which happened to his brother Nennius. “The same historie (says Holinshed) also maketh mention of Nennius, brother to Cassibellane, who in fight happened to get Cæsar's sword fastened in his shield by a blow which Cæsar stroke at him.—But Nennius died within 15 dayes after the battel, of the hurt received at Cæsar's hand, although after he was hurt he slew Labienus one of the Roman tribunes.” Book iii. ch. xiii. Nennius, we are told by Geffrey of Monmouth, was buried with great funeral pomp, and Cæsar's sword placed in his tomb. Malone.

Note return to page 202 3This tribute from us,] The unnecessary words—from us, only derange the metre, and are certainly an interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 203 4&lblank; against all colour,] Without any pretence of right. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “For, of no right, nor colour like to right &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 204 5Mulmutius,] Here the old copy (in contempt of metre, and regardless of the preceding words— “&lblank; Mulmutius, which “Ordain'd our laws;”) most absurdly adds: “&lblank; made our laws &lblank;.” I have not scrupled to drop these words; nor can suppose our readers will discover that the omission of them has created the smallest chasm in our author's sense or measure. The length of the parenthetical words (which were not then considered as such, or enclosed, as at present, in a parenthesis,) was the source of this interpolation. Read the passage without them, and the whole is clear: Mulmutius, which ordained our laws; “Mulmutius, who was the first of Britain,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 205 6&lblank; Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain, which did put His brows within a golden crown, and call'd Himself a king.] The title of the first chapter of Holinshed's third book of the history of England is—“Of Mulmucius, the first king of Britaine who was crowned with a golden crown, his lawes, his foundations, &c. “Mulmucius,—the sonne of Cloten, got the upper hand of the other dukes or rulers; and after his father's decease began his reigne over the whole monarchie of Britaine in the yeare of the world—3529.—He made manie good lawes, which were long after used, called Mulmucius lawes, turned out of the British speech into Latin by Gildas Priscus, and long time after translated out of Latin into English, by Alfred king of England, and mingled in his statutes. After he had established his land,—he ordeined him, by the advice of his lords, a crowne of golde, and caused himself with great solemnity to be crowned;—and because he was the first that bare a crowne here in Britaine, after the opinion of some writers, he is named the first king of Britaine, and all the other before-rehearsed are named rulers, dukes, or governours. “Among other of his ordinances, he appointed weights and measures, with the which men should buy and sell. And further he caused sore and streight orders for the punishment of theft.” Holinshed, ubi supra. Malone.

Note return to page 206 7Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Cæsar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him;] Some few hints for this part of the play are taken from Holinshed: “Kymbeline, says he, (as some write,) was brought up at Rome, and there was made knight by Augustus Cæsar, under whom he served in the wars, and was in such favour with him, that he was at liberty to pay his tribute or not.” “&lblank; Yet we find in the Roman writers, that after Julius Cæsar's death, when Augustus had taken upon him the rule of the empire, the Britons refused to pay that tribute.” “&lblank; But whether the controversy, which appeared to fall forth betwixt the Britons and Augustus, was occasioned by Kymbeline, I have not a vouch.” “&lblank; Kymbeline reigned thirty-five years, leaving behind him two sons, Guiderius and Arviragus.” Steevens.

Note return to page 207 8&lblank; keep at utterance;] Means to keep at the extremity of defiance. Combat à outrance is a desperate fight, that must conclude with the life of one of the combatants. So, in The History of Helyas Knight of the Swanne, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; Here is my gage to sustaine it to the utteraunce, and befight it to the death.” Steevens. So, in Macbeth: “Rather than so, come, fate, into the list, “And champion me to the utterance.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; will you, the knights “Shall to the edge of all the extremity “Pursue each other,” &c. Again, ibidem: “So be it, either to the uttermost, “Or else a breath.” See vol. xi. p. 143, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 208 9&lblank; I am perfect,] I am well informed. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; in your state of honour I am perfect.” Johnson. See vol. xi. p. 214, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 209 1&lblank; the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for Their liberties, are now in arms:] The insurrection of the Pannonians and Dalmatians for the purpose of throwing off the Roman yoke, happened not in the reign of Cymbeline, but in that of his father, Tenantius. Malone.

Note return to page 210 1What monster's her accuser?] The old copy has—What monsters her accuse? The correction was suggested by Mr. Steevens. The order of the words, as well as the single person named by Pisanio, fully support the emendation. “What monsters her accuse?” for “What monsters accuse her?” could never have been written by Shakspeare in a soliloquy like the present. Mr. Pope and the three subsequent editors read—What monsters have accus'd her?” Malone.

Note return to page 211 2&lblank; What false Italian (As poisonous tongue'd, as handed,)] About Shakspeare's time the practice of poisoning was very common in Italy, and the suspicion of Italian poisons yet more common. Johnson.

Note return to page 212 3&lblank; take in some virtue.] To take in a town, is to conquer it. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; cut the Ionian seas, “And take in Toryne &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 213 4Thy mind to her is now as low.] That is, thy mind compared to hers is now as low, as thy condition was, compared to hers. Our author should rather have written—thy mind to hers; but the text, I believe, is as he gave it. Malone.

Note return to page 214 5&lblank; Do't:—The letter That I have sent her, by her own command, Shall give thee opportunity:] Here we have another proof of what I have observed in The Dissertation at the end of King Henry VI. that our poet from negligence sometimes make words change their form under the eye of the speaker; who in different parts of the the same play recites them differently, though he has a paper or letter in his hand, and actually reads from it. A former instance of this kind has occurred in All's Well That Ends Well. See vol. xi. p. 421. The words here read by Pisanio from his master's letter, (which is afterwards given at length, and in prose,) are not found there, though the substance of them is contained in it. This is one of many proofs that Shakspeare had no view to the publication of his pieces. There was little danger that such an inaccuracy should be detected by the ear of the spectator, though it could hardly escape an attentive reader. Malone.

Note return to page 215 6Art thou a feodary for this act,] A feodary is one who holds his estate under the tenure of suit and service to a superior lord. Hanmer. “Art thou a feodary for this act.” Art thou too combined, art thou a confederate, in this act?—A feodary did not signify a feudal vassal, as Sir Thomas Hanmer and the subsequent editors have supposed, (though if the word had borne that signification, it certainly could not bear it here,) but was an officer appointed by the Court of Wards, by virtue of the statute 32 Henry VIII. c. 46, to be present with, and assistant to the Escheators in every county at the finding of offices, and to give in evidence for the king. His duty was to survey the lands of the ward after office found, [i. e. after an inquisition had been made to the king's use,] and to return the true value thereof to the court, &c. “In cognoscendis rimandisque feudis (says Spelman) ad regem pertinentibus, et ad tenuras pro rege manifestandas tuendasque, operam navat; Escaetori ideo adjunctus, omnibusque nervis regiam promovens utilitatem.” He was therefore, we see, the Escheator's associate, and hence Shakspeare, with his usual licence, uses the word for a confederate or associate in general. The feudal vassal was not called a feodary, but a feodatary and feudatory. In Latin, however, feudatarius signified both. Malone. How a letter could be considered as a feudal vassal, according to Hanmer's interpretation, I am at a loss to know. Feodary means, here, a confederate, or accomplice. So, Leontes says of Hermione, in The Winter's Tale: “More, she's a traitor, and Camillo is “A federary with her.” I also think that the word feodary has the same signification in Measure for Measure, though the other commentators do not, and have there assigned my reasons for being of that opinion. M. Mason.

Note return to page 216 7I am ignorant in what I am commanded.] i. e. I am unpractised in the arts of murder. Steevens. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “O, I am ignorance itself in this.” Malone.

Note return to page 217 8&lblank; let that grieve him,] I should wish to read: “Of my lord's health, of his content,—yet no; “That we two are asunder, let that grieve him!” Tyrwhitt. Tyrwhitt wishes to amend this passage by reading no, instead of not, in the first line; but it is right as it stands, and there is nothing wanting to make it clear, but placing a stop longer than a comma, after the word asunder. The sense is this:—“Let the letter bring me tidings of my lord's health, and of his content; not of his content that we are asunder—let that circumstance grieve him; but of his content in every shape but that.” M. Mason. The text is surely right. Let what is here contained relish of my husband's content, in every thing except our being separate from each other. Let that one circumstance afflict him! Malone.

Note return to page 218 9For it doth physick love;] That is, grief for absence keeps love in health and vigour. Johnson. So, in The Winter's Tale; “It is a gallant child; one that indeed, physicks the subject, makes old hearts fresh.” Steevens.

Note return to page 219 *First folio, forfeytours.

Note return to page 220 1&lblank; Bless'd be, You bees, that make these locks of counsel! Lovers, And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables.] The meaning of this, which had been obscured by printing forfeitures for forfeiters, is no more than that the bees are not blessed by the man who forfeiting a bond is sent to prison, as they are by the lover for whom they perform the more pleasing office of sealing letters. Steevens.

Note return to page 221 2Justice, &c.] Old copy—“Justice, and your father's wrath, &c. could not be so cruel to me as you, O, the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes.” This passage, which is probably erroneous, is nonsense, unless we suppose that the word as has the force of but. “Your father's wrath could not be so cruel to me, but you could renew me with your eyes.” M. Mason. I know not what idea this passage presented to the late editors, who have passed it in silence. As it stands in the old copy, it appears to me unintelligible. The word not was, I think, omitted at the press, after would. By its insertion a clear sense is given: Justice and the anger of your father, should I be discovered here, could not be so cruel to me, but that you, O thou dearest of creatures, would be able to renovate my spirits by giving me the happiness of seeing you. Mr. Pope obtained the same sense by a less justifiable method; by substituting but instead of as; and the three subsequent editors adopted that reading. Malone. Mr. Malone reads—“would not,” and I have followed him. Steevens.

Note return to page 222 3&lblank; that remains loyal to his vow, &c.] This subscription to the second letter of Posthumus, affords ample countenance to to Mr. M. Mason's conjecture concerning the conclusion of a former one. See p. 44, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 223 4&lblank; and your, increasing, &c.] We should, I think, read thus:—“and your, increasing in love, Leonatus Posthumus,”—to make it plain, that your is to be joined in construction with Leonatus, and not with increasing; and that the latter is a participle present, and not a noun. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 224 5For mine's beyond beyond,)] The comma, hitherto placed after the first beyond, is improper. The second is used as a substantive; and the plain sense is, that her longing is further than beyond; beyond any thing that desire can be said to be beyond. Ritson. So, in King Lear: “Beyond all manner of so much I love you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 225 6&lblank; speak thick,] i. e. croud one word on another, as fast as possible. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. III.: “And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, “Became the accents of the valiant.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; as thick as tale “Came post with post &lblank;.” See vol. xi. p. 43, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 226 7&lblank; from our hence-going, And our return,] i. e. in consequence of our going hence and returning back. All the modern editors, adopting an alteration made by Mr. Pope,—Till our return. In support of the reading of the old copy, which has been here restored, see Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. I.: “He cannot temperately support his honours, “From where he should begin and end.” See note on that passage. Malone.

Note return to page 227 8Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?] Why should I contrive an excuse, before the act is done, for which excuse will be necessary? Malone.

Note return to page 228 9&lblank; of riding wagers,] Of wagers to be determined by the speed of horses. Malone. This practice was, perhaps, not much less prevalent in Shakspeare's time, than it is at present. Fynes Moryson, speaking of his brother's putting out money to be repaid with increase on his return from Jerusalem, (or, as we should now speak, travelling thither for a wager,) defends it as an honest means of gaining the charges of his journey, especially when “no meane lords & lords' sonnes & gentlemen in our court put out money upon a horse race under themselves, yea, upon a journey on foote.” Itin. Part I. b. 3. ch. i. Blakeway.

Note return to page 229 1That run i' the clock's behalf:] This fantastical expression means no more than sand in an hour-glass, used to measure time. Warburton.

Note return to page 230 2A franklin's housewife.] A franklin is literally a freeholder, with a small estate, neither villain nor vassal. Johnson.

Note return to page 231 3Madam, you're best consider.] That is, “you'd best consider.” M. Mason. So afterwards, in Sc. VI.: “I were best not call.” Malone.

Note return to page 232 4I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them, That I cannot look through.] The lady says: “I can see neither one way nor other, before me nor behind me, but all the ways are covered with an impenetrable fog.” There are objections insuperable to all that I can propose, and since reason can give me no counsel, I will resolve at once to follow my inclination. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's paraphrase is not, I think, perfectly correct. I believe Imogen means to say, “I see neither on this side, nor on that, nor behind me; but find a fog in each of those quarters that my eye cannot pierce. The way to Milford is alone clear and open: Let us therefore instantly set forward: “Accessible is none but Milford way.” By “what ensues,” which Dr. Johnson explains perhaps rightly, by the words—“behind me,” Imogen means, what will be the consequence of the step I am going to take. Malone. When Imogen speaks these words, she is supposed to have her face turned towards Milford; and when she pronounces the words, nor here, nor here, she points to the right and to the left. This being premised, the sense is evidently this:—“I see clearly the way before me; but that to the right, that to the left, and that behind me, are all covered with a fog that I cannot penetrate. There is no more therefore to be said, since there is no way accessible but that to Milford.”—The passage, however, should be pointed thus: “I see before me, man;—nor here, nor here, “Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them “That I cannot look through.” What ensues means what follows; and Shakspeare uses it here, somewhat licentiously, to express what is behind. M. Mason.

Note return to page 233 5&lblank; Stoop boys:] The old copy reads—Sleep, boys:—from whence Sir T. Hanmer conjectured that the poet wrote—Stoop, boys—as that word affords an apposite introduction to what follows. Mr. Rowe reads—See, boys,—which (as usual) had been silently copied. Steevens.

Note return to page 234 6&lblank; may jet &lblank;] i. e. strut, walk proudly. So, in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; how he jets under his advanced plumes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 235 7&lblank; Their impious turbands on,] The idea of a giant was, among the readers of romances, who were almost all the readers of those times, always confounded with that of a Saracen. Johnson.

Note return to page 236 8 This service is not service, &c.] In war it is not sufficient to do duty well; the advantage rises not from the act, but the acceptance of the act. Johnson. As this seems to be intended by Belarius as a general maxim, not merely confined to services in war, I have no doubt but we should read: “That service is not service,” &c. M. Mason. “This service” means, ‘any particular service.’ The observation relates to the court, as well as to war. Malone.

Note return to page 237 9The sharded beetle &lblank;] i. e. the beetle whose wings are enclosed within two dry husks or shards. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 103, b.: “That with his swerd, and with his sphere, “He might not the serpent dere: “He was so sherded all aboute, “It held all edge toole withoute.” Gower is here speaking of the dragon subdued by Jason. Steevens. See vol. xi. p. 155, n. 8. Cole, in his Latin Dict. 1679, has— “A shard or crust—Crusta;” which in the Latin part he interprets —“a crust or shell, a rough casing; shards.” “The cases (says Goldsmith) which beetles have to their wings, are the more necessary, as they often live under the surface of the earth, in holes, which they dig out by their own industry.” These are undoubtedly the safe holds to which Shakspeare alludes. Malone. The epithet full-wing'd applied to the eagle, sufficiently marks the contrast of the poet's imagery; for whilst the bird can soar towards the sun beyond the reach of the human eye, the insect can but just rise above the surface of the earth, and that at the close of day. Henley.

Note return to page 238 1&lblank; attending for a check;] Check may mean, in this place, a reproof; but I rather think it signifies command, controul. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida, the restrictions of Aristotle are called Aristotle's checks. Steevens.

Note return to page 239 2&lblank; than doing nothing for a babe;] [Dr. Warburton reads —bauble.] i. e. vain titles of honour gained by an idle attendance at court. But the Oxford editor reads—for a bribe. Warburton. The Oxford editor knew the reason of this alteration, though his censurer knew it not. Of babe some correcter made bauble; and Sir Thomas Hanmer thought himself equally authorised to make bribe. I think babe can hardly be right. It should be remembered, however, that bauble was anciently spelt bable; so that Dr. Warburton in reality has added but one letter. A bauble was part of the insignia of a fool. So, in All's Well That Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. V. the Clown says: “I would give his wife my bauble, sir.” It was a kind of truncheon (says Sir John Hawkins,) with a head carved on it. To this Belarius may allude, and mean that honourable poverty is more precious than “a sinecure at court, of which the badge is a truncheon or a wand.” So, in Middleton's Game at Chess, 1623: “Art thou so cruel for an honour's bable?” As, however, it was once the custom in England for favourites at court to beg the wardship of infants who were born to great riches, our author may allude to it on this occasion. Frequent complaints were made that nothing was done towards the education of these neglected orphans. Steevens. I have always suspected that the right reading of this passage is what I had not in a former edition the confidence to propose: “Richer than doing nothing for a brabe;—” Brabium is a badge of honour, or the ensign of an honour, or any thing worn as a mark of dignity. The word was strange to the editors, as it will be to the reader; they therefore changed it to babe; and I am forced to propose it without the support of any authority. Brabium is a word found in Holyoak's Dictionary, who terms it a reward. Cooper, in his Thesaurus, defines it to be a prize, or reward for any game. Johnson. A babe and baby are synonymous. A baby being a puppet or play-thing for children. I suppose a babe here means a puppet. So, in Spenser's Pastorals, May, 239: “But all as a poore pedlar he did wend, “Bearing a trusse of trifles at his backe, “As bells and babes and glasses in his packe.” For babe Mr. Rowe substituted bauble. “Doing nothing” in this passage means, I think, ‘being busy in petty and unimportant employments:’ in the same sense as when we say, melius est otiosum esse quam nihil agere. The following lines in Drayton's Owle, 4to. 1604, may add, however, some support to Rowe's emendation, bable or bauble: “Which with much sorrow brought into my mind “Their wretched soules, so ignorantly blinde, “When even the greatest things, in the world unstable, “Clyme but to fall, and damned for a bable.” Malone. Mr. Malone's first explanation of the old text will probably be deemed satisfactory; but I may as well remark that there was such a word as brabe in English, though apparently bearing a very different meaning from that which Dr. Johnson has ascribed to it. Heth is thus explained by Speght in his Glossary to Chaucer: “Brabes and such like.” Hething, for so Mr. Tyrwhitt gives the word, he interprets—contempt. Boswell.

Note return to page 240 3Yet keeps his book uncross'd:] So, in Skialetheia, a collection of Epigrams, &c. 1598: “Yet stands he in the debet book uncrost.” Steevens.

Note return to page 241 4&lblank; no life to ours.] i. e. compared with ours. So, p. 99: “Thy mind to her is now as low,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 242 5To stride a limit.] To overpass his bound. Johnson. In the preceding line the old copy reads—“A prison, or a debtor,” &c. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 243 6What should we speak of,] This dread of an old age, unsupplied with matter for discourse and meditation, is a sentiment natural and noble. No state can be more destitute than that of him, who, when the delights of sense forsake him, has no pleasures of the mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 244 7How you speak!] Otway seems to have taken many hints for the conversation that passes between Acasto and his sons, from the scene before us. Steevens.

Note return to page 245 8And left me bare to weather.] So, in Timon of Athens: “That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves “Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush, “Fallen from their boughs, and left me, open, bare, “For every storm that blows.” Steevens.

Note return to page 246 9And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state.] &lblank; nulla aconita bibuntur Fictilibus; tunc illa time, cum pocula sumes Gemmata, et lato Setinum ardebit in auro. Juv. Malone. The comparative—greater, which violates the measure, is surely an absurd interpolation; the low-brow'd cave in which the princes are meanly educated, being a place of no state at all. Steevens. This kind of phraseology is used every day without objection. Malone.

Note return to page 247 1&lblank; though train'd up thus meanly I' the cave, wherein they bow,] The old editions read: “I' the cave, whereon the bowe;” which, though very corrupt, will direct us to the true reading, [as it stands in the text.]—In this very cave, which is so low that they must bow or bend in entering it, yet are their thoughts so exalted, &c. This is the antithesis. Belarius had spoken before of the lowness of this cave: “A goodly day! not to keep house, with such “Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This gate “Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you “To morning's holy office.” Warburton.

Note return to page 248 2&lblank; This Polydore,] [First folio, Paladour.] The old copy of the play (except here, where it may be only a blunder of the printer,) calls the eldest son of Cymbeline, Polidore, as often as the name occurs; and yet there are some who may ask whether it is not more likely that the printer should have blundered in the other places, than that he should have hit upon such an uncommon name as Paladour in this first instance. Paladour was the ancient name for Shaftsbury. So, in A Meeting Dialogue-wise between Nature, the Phœnix, and the Turtle-Dove, by R. Chester, 1601: “This noble king builded fair Caerguent, “Now cleped Winchester of worthie fame; “And at mount Paladour he built his tent, “That after-ages Shaftsburie hath to name.” Steevens. I believe, however, Polydore is the true reading. In the pages of Holinshed, which contain an account of Cymbeline, Polydore [i. e. Polydore Virgil] is often quoted in the margin; and this probably suggested the name to Shakspeare. Malone. Otway (see p. 110, n. 7,) was evidently of the same opinion, as he has so denominated one of the sons of Acasto in The Orphan. The translations, however, of both Homer and Virgil, would have afforded Shakspeare the name of Polydore. Steevens.

Note return to page 249 3The younger brother, Cadwal,] This name is found in an ancient poem, entitled King Arthur, which is printed in the same collection with the Meeting Dialogue-wise, &c. quoted in the preceding note: “Augisell, king of stout Albania, “And Caduall, king of Vinedocia &lblank;.” In this collection one of our author's own poems was originally printed. See the end of The Passionate Pilgrim. Malone.

Note return to page 250 4&lblank; I stole these babes;] Shakspeare seems to intend Belarius for a good character, yet he makes him forget the injury which he has done to the young princes, whom he has robbed of a kingdom only to rob their father of heirs.—The latter part of this soliloquy is very inartificial, there being no particular reason why Belarius should now tell to himself what he could not know better by telling it. Johnson.

Note return to page 251 5&lblank; to her grave:] i. e. to the grave of Euriphile; or, to the grave of “their mother, as they suppose it to be.” The poet ought rather to have written—to thy grave. Malone. Perhaps he did write so, and the present reading is only a corruption introduced by his printers or publishers. Steevens. This change of persons frequently occurs in our author. Thus, in Julius Cæsar: “Casca, thou art the first that rears his hand.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all “That of his bounty taste.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “Away with him; and let her sport herself “With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes “Has made thee swell thus.” But this mode of construction is not peculiar to Shakspeare; we meet with it in Scripture, Acts xvii. v. 2, 3: “And Paul—reasoned with them out of the scriptures, opening and alledging, that Christ must needs have suffered, and risen again from the dead; and that this Jesus, whom I preach unto you, is Christ.” Malone.

Note return to page 252 6Where is Posthúmus?] Shakspeare's apparent ignorance of quantity is not the least among many proofs of his want of learning. Almost throughout this play he calls Posth&ushort;mus, Posth&ubar;mus, and Arvir&ashort;gus always Arvir&abar;gus. It may be said that quantity in the age of our author did not appear to have been much regarded. In the tragedy of Darius, by William Alexander of Menstrie, (lord Sterline) 1603, Dar&ibar;us is always called Dar&ishort;us, and Euphr&abar;tes, Euphr&ashort;tes: “The diadem that Dar&ishort;us erst had borne— “The famous Euphr&ashort;tes to be your border &lblank;.” Again, in the 21st Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “That gliding go in state like swelling Euphr&ashort;tes.” Throughout Sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan, Euphr&ashort;tes is likewise given instead of Euphr&abar;tes. Steevens. Shakspeare's ignorance of the quantity of Posthumus is the rather remarkable, as he gives it rightly both when the name first occurs, and in another place: “To his protection; calls him Posth&ushort;mus.—” “Struck the main-top!—O, Posth&ushort;mus! alas.” Ritson. In A Meeting Dialogue-wise between Nature, the Phœnix, and the Turtle-dove, by R. Chester, 1601, Arviragus is introduced with the same neglect of quantity as in this play: “Windsor, a castle of exceeding strength, “First built by Arvirágus, Britaine's king.” Again, by Heywood, in his Britayne's Troy: “Now Arvirágus reigns, and takes to wife “The emperor Claudius's daughter.” It seems to have been the general rule, adopted by scholars as well as others, to pronounce Latin names like English words: Shakspeare's neglect of quantity therefore proves nothing. Malone. The propriety of the foregoing remark, is not altogether confirmed by the practice of our ancient translators from classick authors. Steevens. The propriety of my remark is not shaken by this observation. Translators would have the true quantity of a classical name forced upon their attention; but the writers of Shakspeare's age, when they were not translating, were accustomed to disregard the true pronunciation of Greek and Latin names. See vol. vii. p. 203, and p. 238. Malone.

Note return to page 253 7&lblank; haviour &lblank;] This word, as often as it occurs in Shakspeare, should not be printed as an abbreviation of behaviour. Haviour was a word commonly used in his time. See Spenser, Æglogue, IX.: “Their ill haviour garres men missay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 254 8&lblank; If it be summer news, Smile to't before:] So, in our author's 98th Sonnet: “Yet not the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell “Of different flowers in odour and in hue, “Could make me any summer's story tell.” Malone.

Note return to page 255 9&lblank; drug-dam'd &lblank;] This is another allusion to Italian poisons. Johnson.

Note return to page 256 1&lblank; out-craftied him,] Thus the old copy, and so Shakspeare certainly wrote. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; chaste as the icicle, “That's curdied by the frost from purest snow.” Mr. Pope and all the subsequent editors read—out-crafted here, and curdled in Coriolanus. Malone.

Note return to page 257 2What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already.] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?” Malone.

Note return to page 258 3Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, &c.] So, in Churchyard's Discourse of Rebellion, &c. 1570: “Hit venom castes as far as Nilus flood, [brood] “Hit poysoneth all it toucheth any wheare.” Serpents and dragons by the old writers were called worms. Of this, several instances are given in the last Act of Antony and Cleopatra. Steevens.

Note return to page 259 4Rides on the posting winds,] So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; making the wind my post-horse.” Malone.

Note return to page 260 5&lblank; states,] Persons of highest rank. Johnson. See vol. viii. p. 305, n. 6. Malone. So, in Chapman's version of the second Iliad: “The other scepter-bearing states arose too and obey'd “The people's rector.” Steevens.

Note return to page 261 6&lblank; What is it, to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him?] This passage should be pointed thus: “What! is it to be false, “To lie in watch there, and to think on him?” M. Mason.

Note return to page 262 7Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, Thy favour's good enough.] So, in King Lear: “Those wicked creatures yet do look well favour'd, “When others are more wicked.” Malone.

Note return to page 263 8&lblank; Some jay of Italy,] There is a prettiness in this expression; putta, in Italian, signifying both a jay and a whore: I suppose from the gay feathers of that bird. Warburton. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Teach him to know turtles from jays.” Steevens.

Note return to page 264 9Whose mother was her painting,] Some jay of Italy, made by art; the creature, not of nature, but of painting. In this sense painting may be not improperly termed her mother. Johnson. I met with a similar expression in one of the old comedies, but forgot to note the date or name of the piece: “&lblank; a parcel of conceited feather-caps, whose fathers were their garments.” Steevens. In All's Well That Ends Well, we have— “&lblank; whose judgments are “Mere fathers of their garments.” Malone. “Whose mother was her painting,” i. e. her likeness. Harris.

Note return to page 265 1Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion;] This image occurs in Westward for Smelts, 1620, immediately at the conclusion of the tale on which our play is founded: “But (said the Brainford fish-wife) I like her as a garment out of fashion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 266 2And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, I must be ripp'd:] To “hang by the walls,” does not mean, to be converted into hangings for a room, but to be hung up, as useless, among the neglected contents of a wardrobe. So, in Measure for Measure: “That have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall. When a boy, at an ancient mansion-house in Suffolk, I saw one of these repositories, which (thanks to a succession of old maids!) had been preserved, with superstitious reverence, for almost a century and a half. Clothes were not formerly, as at present, made of slight materials, were not kept in drawers, or given away as soon as lapse of time or change of fashion had impaired their value. On the contrary, they were hung up on wooden pegs in a room appropriated to the sole purpose of receiving them; and though such cast-off things as were composed of rich substances, were occasionally ripped for domestick uses, (viz. mantles for infants, vests for children, and counterpanes for beds,) articles of inferior quality were suffered to hang by the walls, till age and moths had destroyed what pride would not permit to be worn by servants or poor relations. Comitem horridulum trita donare lacerna, seems not to have been customary among our ancestors.—When Queen Elizabeth died, she was found to have left above three thousand dresses behind her; and there is yet in the wardrobe of Covent-Garden Theatre, a rich suit of clothes that once belonged to King James I. When I saw it last, it was on the back of Justice Greedy, a character in Massinger's New Way to Pay Old Debts. Steevens. Imogen, as Mr. Roberts suggests to me, “alludes to the hangings on walls, which were in use in Shakspeare's time.”—These being sometimes wrought with gold or silver, were, it should seem, occasionally ript and taken to pieces for the sake of the materials. Malone.

Note return to page 267 3Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; &c.] i. e. says Mr. Upton, “will infect and corrupt their good name, (like sour dough that leaveneth the whole mass,) and wilt render them suspected.” So, in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 228: “Some habit that too much o'erleavens “The form of plausive manners.” In the line below he would read—fall, instead of fail. So, in King Henry V.: “And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, “To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued, “With some suspicion.” I think the text is right. Malone. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; for the fail “Of any point,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 268 4Against self-slaughter, &c.] So, again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; the Everlasting—fix'd “His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 269 5That cravens my weak hand.] i. e. makes me a coward. Pope. That makes me afraid to put an end to my own life. See vol. v. p. 423, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 270 6Something's afore't:] The old copy reads—Something's afoot. Johnson. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 271 7The scriptures &lblank;] So, Ben Jonson, in The Sad Shepherd: “The lover's scriptures, Heliodore's, or Tatius'.” Shakspeare, however, means in this place, an opposition between scripture, in its common signification, and heresy. Steevens.

Note return to page 272 8&lblank; thou that &lblank;] The second thou, which is not in the old copies, has been added for the sake of recovering metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 273 9&lblank; princely fellows,] One of the same fellowship or rank with myself. Malone.

Note return to page 274 1&lblank; disedg'd,] So, in Hamlet: “It would cost you a groaning, to take off mine edge.” Steevens.

Note return to page 275 2That now thou tir'st on,] A hawk is said to tire upon that which she pecks; from tirer, French. Johnson.

Note return to page 276 3I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.] [In the old copies, the word—blind is wanting.] The modern editions for wake read break, and supply the deficient syllable by—Ah wherefore. I read—I'll wake mine eye-balls out first, or, blind first. Johnson. Sir Thomas Hanmer had made the same emendation. Malone. Dr. Johnson's conjecture (which I have inserted in the text,) may receive support from the following passage in The Bugbears, a MS. comedy more ancient than the play before us: “&lblank; I doubte “Least for lacke of my slepe I shall watche my eyes oute.” Again, in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1608: “&lblank; A piteous tragedy! able to wake “An old man's eyes blood-shot.” Again, in The Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; I'll ride to Oxford, and watch out mine eyes, but I'll hear the brazen head speak.” Steevens. Again, as Mr. Steevens has observed in a note on The Rape of Lucrece: “Here she exclaims against repose and rest; “And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind.” Malone.

Note return to page 277 3To be unbent,] To have thy bow unbent, alluding to an hunter. Johnson.

Note return to page 278 4&lblank; when thou hast ta'en thy stand, The elected deer before thee?] So, in one of our author's poems, Passionate Pilgrim, 1599: “When as thine eye hath chose the dame, “And stall'd the deer that thou should'st strike.” Malone.

Note return to page 279 5With that harsh, noble, &c.] Some epithet of two syllables has here been omitted by the compositor; for which, having but one copy, it is now vain to seek. Malone. Perhaps the poet wrote: “With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten; “That Cloten,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 280 6Where then?] Hanmer has added these two words to Pisanio's speech. Malone.

Note return to page 281 7Where then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines?] The rest of Imogen's speech induces me to think that we ought to read “What then?” instead of “Where then?” The reason of the change is evident. M. Mason. Perhaps Imogen silently answers her own question: “any where. Hath Britain,” &c. Shakspeare seems here to have had in his thoughts a passage in Lyly's Euphues, 1580, which he has imitated in King Richard II.: “Nature hath given to man a country no more than she hath house, or lands, or living. Plato would never account him banished, that had the sunne, ayre, water, and earth, that he had before; where he felt the winter's blast, and the summer's blaze; where the same sunne and the same moone shined; whereby he noted, that every place was a country to a wise man, and all parts a palace to a quiet mind. But thou art driven out of Naples: that is nothing. All the Athenians dwell not in Colliton, nor every Corinthian in Greece, nor all the Lacedemonians in Pitania. How can any part of the world be distant far from the other, when as the mathematicians set downe that the earth is but a point compared to the heavens?” Malone.

Note return to page 282 8There's livers out of Britain.] So, in Coriolanus: “There is a world elsewhere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 283 9&lblank; Now, if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is;] To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impenetrable to the search of others. Darkness, applied to the mind, is secrecy; applied to the fortune, is obscurity. The next lines are obscure. “You must, (says Pisanio,) disguise that greatness, which, to appear hereafter in its proper form, cannot yet appear without great danger to itself.” Johnson.

Note return to page 284 1&lblank; full of view:] With opportunities of examining your affairs with your own eyes. Johnson. Full of view may mean—affording an ample prospect, a complete opportunity of discerning circumstances which it is your interest to know. Thus, in Pericles, “Full of face” appears to signify— ‘amply beautiful;’ and Duncan assures Banquo that he will labour to make him “full of growing,” i. e. of ‘ample growth.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 285 2Though peril to my modesty,] I read—Through peril. “I would for such means adventure through peril of modesty;” I would risque every thing but real dishonour. Johnson.

Note return to page 286 3&lblank; to &lblank;] Old copies, unmetrically,—into. Steevens.

Note return to page 287 4As quarrellous as the weasel:] So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen “As you are toss'd with.” This character of the weasel is not warranted by naturalists. Weasels, however, were formerly kept in houses instead of cats, for the purpose of killing vermin. So, Phædrus, iv. i. 10: Mustela, quum annis et senecta debilis, Mures veloces non valeret adsequi. Again, lib. iv. 5. 3. Quum victi mures mustelarum exercitu— Fugerent, &c. Our poet, therefore, while a boy, might have had frequent opportunities to ascertain their disposition. In Congreve's Love for Love, (the scene of which is in London,) old Foresight talks of having “met a weasel.” It would now be difficult to find one at liberty throughout the whole county of Middlesex. “Frivola hæc fortassis cuipiam et nimis levia esse videantur, sed curiositas nihil recusat.” Vopiscus in Vita Aureliani, c. x. Steevens.

Note return to page 288 5Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!)] I think it very natural to reflect in this distress on the cruelty of Posthumus. Dr. Warburton proposes to read: “&lblank; the harder hap!” Johnson.

Note return to page 289 6&lblank; common-kissing Titan;] Thus, in Othello: “The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets &lblank;.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii.: “&lblank; and beautifull might have been, if they had not suffered greedy Phœbus, over-often and hard, to kisse them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 290 7Wherein you are happy,] i. e. wherein you are accomplished. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 8&lblank; which you'll make him know,] This is Sir T. Hanmer's reading. The common books have it: “&lblank; which will make him know &lblank;.” Mr. Theobald, in one of his long notes, endeavours to prove that it should be: “&lblank; which will make him so &lblank;.” He is followed by Dr. Warburton. Johnson. The words were probably written at length in the manuscript, you will, and you omitted at the press: or will was printed for we'll. Malone.

Note return to page 292 9&lblank; Your means abroad: &c.] As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on me. So, in Sc. V.: “&lblank; thou should'st neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment.” Malone.

Note return to page 293 1&lblank; diet me with.] Mr. Steevens has a note on this passage, which is, if possible, more disgustingly absurd than that of Mr. Whalley's, mentioned p. 90. He says Imogen is alluding to the spare regimen prescribed in some diseases. This interpretation is at once gross and nonsensical. If any doubt could be entertained as to so common a metaphor, it might be easily supported. One instance shall suffice. When Iago (vol. ix. p. 315,) talks of dieting his revenge, he certainly does not mean putting it on a spare regimen. Boswell.

Note return to page 294 2&lblank; we'll even All that good time will give us:] We'll make our work even with our time; we'll do what time will allow. Johnson.

Note return to page 295 3&lblank; This attempt I'm soldier to,] i. e. I have inlisted and bound myself to it. Warburton. Rather, I think, I am equal to this attempt; I have enough of ardour to undertake it. Malone. Mr. Malone's explanation is undoubtedly just. “I'm soldier to,” is equivalent to the modern cant phrase—‘I am up to it,’ i. e. I have ability for it. Steevens.

Note return to page 296 4Here is a box; I had it from the queen;] Instead of this box, the modern editors have in a former scene made the Queen give Pisanio a vial, which is dropped on the stage, without being broken. See Act I. Sc. VI. In Pericles, Cerimon, in order to recover Thaisa, calls for all the boxes in his closet. So, in the description of the Apothecary, in Romeo and Juliet: “A beggarly account of empty boxes.” Malone.

Note return to page 297 5So, sir, I desire of you &lblank;] The two last words are, in my opinion, very properly omitted by Sir Thomas Hanmer, as they only serve to derange the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 6&lblank; all joy befal your grace, and you!] I think we should read—his grace, and you. Malone. Perhaps our author wrote: “&lblank; your grace, and yours!” i. e. your relatives. So, in Macbeth: “And beggar'd yours for ever.” Steevens.

Note return to page 299 *First folio, lowd.

Note return to page 300 7Son, I say, follow the king.] Some word necessary to the metre, is here omitted. We might read: “Go, son, I say; follow the king.” Steevens. The old copy reads: “&lblank; that which I “Fear prove false.” Pronounce Fear as a dissyllable, and the metre is complete. Boswell.

Note return to page 301 8&lblank; May This night forestall him of the coming day!] i. e. May his grief this night prevent him from ever seeing another day, by an anticipated and premature destruction! So, in Milton's Masque: “Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented them.” Malone.

Note return to page 302 9And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman;] “She has all courtly parts, (says he,) more exquisite than any lady, than all ladies, than all womankind.” Johnson. There is a similar passage in All's Well That Ends Well, Act II. Sc. III.: “To any count; to all counts; to what is man.” Tollet.

Note return to page 303 1&lblank; from every one The best she hath,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; but you, O you, “So perfect and so peerless, are created “Of every creature's best.” Malone.

Note return to page 304 2&lblank; Close villain,] A syllable being here wanting to complete the measure, perhaps we ought to read: “&lblank; Close villain, thou &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 305 3Or this, or perish.] These words, I think, belong to Cloten, who requiring the paper, says: “Let's see't:—I will pursue her “Even to Augustus' throne. Or this, or perish.” Then Pisanio giving the paper, says to himself: “She's far enough;” &c. Johnson. I own I am of a different opinion. Or this, or perish, properly belongs to Pisanio, who says to himself, as he gives the paper into the hands of Cloten, “I must either give it him freely, or perish in my attempt to keep it;” or else the words may be considered as a reply to Cloten's boast of following her to the throne of Augustus, and are added slily: “You will either do what you say, or perish, which is the more probable of the two.”—The subsequent remark, however, of Mr. Henley, has taught me diffidence in my attempt to justify the arrangement of the old copies. Steevens. I cannot but think Dr. Johnson in the right, from the account of this transaction Pisanio afterwards gave: “&lblank; Lord Cloten, “Upon my lady's missing, came to me, “With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore “If I discovered not which way she was gone, “It was my instant death: By accident, “I had a feigned letter of my master's “Then in my pocket, which directed him “To seek her on the mountains near to Milford.” But if the words, Or this, or perish, belong to Pisanio, as the letter was feigned, they must have been spoken out, not aside. Henley. Cloten knew not, till it was tendered, that Pisanio had such a letter as he now presents; there could therefore be no question concerning his giving it freely or with-holding it. These words, in my opinion, relate to Pisanio's present conduct, and they mean, I think, “I must either practise this deceit upon Cloten, or perish by his fury.” Malone.

Note return to page 306 4To him that is most true.] Pisanio, notwithstanding his master's letter, commanding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthumus was abused by some villain, equally an enemy to them both. Malone.

Note return to page 307 5Foundations fly the wretched:] Thus, in the fifth Æneid: Italiam sequimur fugientem. Steevens.

Note return to page 308 6Is sorer,] Is a greater, or heavier crime. Johnson.

Note return to page 309 7I were best not call;] Mr. Pope was so little acquainted with the language of Shakspeare's age, that instead of this the original reading, he substituted—'Twere best not call. Malone.

Note return to page 310 8If any thing that's civil,] Civil, for human creature. Warburton.

Note return to page 311 9If any thing that's civil, speak, if savage, Take, or lend.] I question whether, after the words, if savage, a line be not lost. I can offer nothing better than to read: “&lblank; Ho! who's here? “If any thing that's civil, take or lend, “If savage, speak.” If you are civilised and peaceable, take a price for what I want, or lend it for a future recompense; if you are rough inhospitable inhabitants of the mountain, speak, that I may know my state. Johnson. It is by no means necessary to suppose that savage hold signifies the habitation of a beast. It may as well be used for the cave of a savage, or wild man, who, in the romances of the time, were represented as residing in the woods, like the famous Orson, Bremo in the play of Mucedorus, or the savage in the seventh canto of the fourth book of Spenser's Fairy Queen, and the sixth b. c. 4. Steevens. Steevens is right in supposing that the word savage does not mean, in this place, a wild beast, but a brutish man, and in that sense it is opposed to civil: in the former sense, the word human would have been opposed to it, not civil. So, in the next Act, Imogen says: “Our courtiers say, all's savage but at court.” And in As You Like It, Orlando says: “I thought that all things had been savage here.” M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is, If any one resides here that is accustomed to the modes of civil life, answer me; but if this be the habitation of a wild and uncultivated man, or of one banished from society, that will enter into no converse, let him at least silently furnish me with enough to support me, accepting a price for it, or giving it to me without a price, in consideration of future recompense. Dr. Johnson's interpretation of the words take, or lend, is supported by what Imogen says afterwards: “Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought “To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took.” but such licentious alterations as transferring words from one line to another, and transposing the words thus transferred, ought, in my apprehension, never to be admitted. Malone.

Note return to page 312 1Best draw my sword;] As elliptically, Milton, where the 2nd brother in Comus says: “Best draw, and stand upon our guard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 313 2&lblank; woodman,] A woodman, in its common acceptation (as in the present instance) signifies a hunter. For the particular and original meaning of the word, see Mr. Reed's note in Measure for Measure, vol. ix. p. 169, n. 8. Steevens. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “He is no woodman that doth bend his bow “Against a poor unseasonable doe.” Malone.

Note return to page 314 3&lblank; 'tis our match:] i. e. our compact. See p. lll, l. 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 315 4&lblank; when resty sloth &lblank;] Resty signified mouldy, rank. See Minsheu, in v. The word is yet used in the North. Perhaps, however, it is here used in the same sense in which restive is applied to a horse. Malone. Restive, in the present instance, I believe, means unquiet, shifting its posture, like a restive horse. Steevens. The old copy reads—restie, but Mr. Steevens, without notice to the reader, altered it to restive. Restive or restiff, when spoken of a horse, does not mean shifting its posture, but refusing to go forward. Boswell.

Note return to page 316 5An earthly paragon!] The same phrase has already occurred in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “No; but she is an earthly paragon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 317 6&lblank; o' the floor.] Old copy—i' the floor. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone. The correction was unnecessary. In was frequently used in our author's time for on. So, in the Lord's Prayer: “Thy will be done in earth,” &grk;&gra;&gri; &grE;&grP;&grI; &grt;&grh;&grst; &grg;&grh;&grst;. Boswell.

Note return to page 318 7&lblank; and parted &lblank;] A syllable being here wanting to the measure, we might read, with Sir Thomas Hanmer,—and parted thence. Steevens. By making prayers a dissyllable, we might read— “&lblank; parted with “Prayers for the provider.” Malone.

Note return to page 319 8&lblank; To Milford-Haven, sir.] This word, which is deficient in the old copies, has been supplied by some modern editor, [Mr. Capell] for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 320 9I am fallen in this offence.] In, according to the ancient mode of writing, is here used instead of into. Thus, in Othello: “Fallen in the practice of a cursed slave.” Again, in King Richard III.: “But first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 321 1I should woo hard, but be your groom.—In honesty I bid for you, as I'd buy.] The old copy reads—as I do buy. The correction was made by Sir T. Hanmer. He reads unnecessarily, I'd bid for you, &c. In the folio the line is thus pointed: “I should woo hard, but be your groom in honesty: “I bid for you,” &c. Malone. I think this passage might be better read thus: “I should woo hard, but be your groom.—In honesty, “I bid for you, as I'd buy.” That is, I should woo hard, but I would be your bridegroom. [And when I say that I should woo hard, be assured that] in honesty I bid for you, only at the rate at which I would purchase you. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 322 2&lblank; then had my prize Been less and so more equal ballasting &lblank;] Sir T. Hanmer reads plausibly, but without necessity, price for prize, and balancing for ballasting. He is followed by Dr. Warburton. The meaning is,—Had I been less a prize, I should not have been too heavy for Posthumus. Johnson. The old reading is undoubtedly the true one. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “It is war's prize to take all vantages.” Again, ibidem: “Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son.” The same word occurs again in this play of Cymbeline, as well as in Hamlet. Steevens. Between price and prize the distinction was not always observed in our author's time, nor is it at this day; for who has not heard persons above the vulgar confound them, and talk of high-priz'd and low-priz'd goods? Malone. The sense is, then had the prize thou hast mastered in me been less, and not have sunk thee, as I have done, by over-lading thee. Heath.

Note return to page 323 3He wrings at some distress.] i. e. writhes with anguish. So, in our author's Much Ado About Nothing: “To those that wring under the load of sorrow.” Again, in Tom Tylor and his Wife, bl. 1. “I think I have made the cullion to wring.” Steevens.

Note return to page 324 4That nothing gift of differing multitudes,] The poet must mean, that court, that obsequious adoration, which the shifting vulgar pay to the great, is a tribute of no price or value. I am persuaded therefore our poet coined this participle from the French verb, and wrote: “That nothing gift of defering multitudes:” i. e. obsequious, paying deference.—Deferer, Cedar par respect a quelqu'un, obeir, condescendre, &c.—Deferent, civil, respectueux, &c. Richelet. Theobald. He is followed by Sir Thomas Hanmer and Dr. Warburton; but I do not see why differing may not be a general epithet, and the expression equivalent to the many-headed rabble. Johnson. It certainly may; but then nothing is predicated of the many-headed multitude, unless we supply words that the text does not exhibit, “That worthless boon of the differing or many-headed multitude, [attending upon them, and paying their court to them;]” or suppose the whole line to be a periphrasis for adulation or obeisance. There was no such word as defering or deferring in Shakspeare's time. “Deferer a une compaigne,” Cotgrave, in his Dictionary, 1611, explains thus: “To yeeld, referre, or attribute much, unto a companie.” Malone. That nothing gift which the multitude are supposed to bestow, is glory, reputation, which is a present of little value from their hands; as they are neither unanimous in giving it, nor constant in continuing it. Heath. I believe the old to be the right reading. Differing multitudes means unsteady multitudes, who are continually changing their opinions, and condemn to-day what they yesterday applauded. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's explanation is just. So, in the Induction to The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “The still discordant, wav'ring multitude.” Steevens.

Note return to page 325 5Since Leonatus false.] Mr. M. Mason would read: “Since Leonatus is false.” but this conjecture is injurious to the metre. If we are to connect the words in question with the preceding line, and suppose that Imogen has completed all she meant to say, we might read: “Since Leonate is false.” Thus, for the convenience of versification, Shakspeare sometimes calls Prospero, Prosper, and Enobarbus, Enobarbe. Steevens. As Shakspeare has used “thy mistress' ear,” and “Menelaus tent,” for thy mistresses ear, and Menelauses tent, so, with still greater licence, he uses—Since Leonatus false, for—Since Leonatus is false. Malone. Of such a licence, I believe, there is no example either in the works of Shakspeare, or of any other author. Steevens.

Note return to page 326 6That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; And that, &c.] These facts are historical. Steevens. See p. 97, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 327 7&lblank; and to you the tribunes, For this immediate levy, he commands His absolute commission.] He commands the commission to be given to you. So, we say, I ordered the materials to the workmen. Johnson.

Note return to page 328 8&lblank; for &lblank;] i. e. because. See p. 155, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 329 9&lblank; in single oppositions:] In single combat. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “In single opposition, hand to hand, “He did confound the best part of an hour, “In changing hardiment with great Glendower.” An opposite was in Shakspeare the common phrase for an adversary, or antagonist. See vol. xi. p. 425, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 330 1&lblank; imperseverant &lblank;] Thus the former editions. Sir T. Hanmer reads—ill-perseverant. Johnson. Imperseverant may mean no more than perseverant, like imbosomed, impassioned, im-masked. Steevens.

Note return to page 331 2&lblank; before thy face:] Posthumus was to have his head struck off, and then his garments cut to pieces before his face! We should read—her face, i. e. Imogen's: done to despite her, who had said, she esteemed Posthumus's garment above the person of Cloten. Warburton. Shakspeare, who in The Winter's Tale, makes a Clown say: “If thou'lt see a thing to talk on after thou art dead,” would not scruple to give the expression in the text to so fantastick a character as Cloten. The garments of Posthumus might indeed be cut to pieces before his face, though his head were off; no one, however, but Cloten, would consider this circumstance as any aggravation of the insult. Malone.

Note return to page 332 3&lblank; spurn her home to her father;] Cloten seems to delight in rehearsing to himself his brutal intentions; for all this he has already said in a former scene; “&lblank; and when my lust hath dined,—to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 4Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom Is breach of all.] Keep your daily course uninterrupted; if the stated plan of life is once broken, nothing follows but confusion. Johnson.

Note return to page 334 5How much the quantity,] I read—As much the quantity. Johnson. Surely the present reading has exactly the same meaning. ‘How much soever the mass of my affection to my father may be, so much precisely is my love for thee: and as much as my filial love weighs, so much also weighs my affection for thee.’ Malone.

Note return to page 335 6&lblank; So please you, sir.] I cannot relish this courtly phrase from the mouth of Arviragus. It should rather, I think, begin Imogen's speech. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 336 7The imperious seas &lblank;] Imperious was used by Shakspeare for imperial. See vol. vii. p. 475, n. 4; and vol. viii. p. 392, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 337 8I could not stir him:] Not move him to tell his story. Johnson.

Note return to page 338 9&lblank; gentle], but unfortunate;] Gentle is well-born, of birth above the vulgar. Johnson. Rather of rank above the vulgar. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; be he ne'er so vile, “This day shall gentle his condition. Steevens.

Note return to page 339 1And so shall be ever.] The adverb—so, was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 340 2Imo. Well or ill I am bound to you. Bel. And so shalt be ever.— This youth, howe'er distressed, &c.] These speeches are improperly distributed between Imogen and Belarius; and I flatter myself that every reader of attention will approve of my amending the passage, and dividing them in the following manner: “Imo. Well, or ill, “I am bound to you; and shall be ever, “Bel. This youth, howe'er distress'd,” &c. M. Mason. “And shall be ever.” That is, you shall ever receive from me the same kindness that you do at present: you shall thus only be bound to me for ever. Malone.

Note return to page 341 3Gui. But his neat cookery! &c.] Only the first four words of this speech are given in the old copy to Guiderius: The name of Arviragus is prefixed to the remainder, as well as to the next speech. The correction was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone. Mr. Steevens adopted the correction; it was made by Mr. Capell. Boswell.

Note return to page 342 4&lblank; He cut our roots in characters;] So, in Fletcher's Elder Brother, Act IV: “And how to cut his meat in characters.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 5&lblank; rooted in him both,] Old copy—in them. Corrected by Mr. Pope, Malone.

Note return to page 344 6Mingle their spurs together.] Spurs, an old word for the fibres of a tree. Pope. Spurs are the longest and largest leading roots of trees. Our poet has again used the same word in The Tempest: “&lblank; the strong bas'd promontory “Have I made shake, and by the spurs “Pluck'd up the pine and cedar.” Hence probably the spur of a post; the short wooden buttress affixed to it, to keep it firm in the ground. Malone.

Note return to page 345 7And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root, with the increasing vine!] Shakspeare had only seen English vines which grow against walls, and therefore may be sometimes entangled with the elder. Perhaps we should read—untwine—from the vine. Johnson. Surely this is the meaning of the words without any change. May patience increase, and may the stinking elder, grief, no longer twine his decaying [or destructive, if perishing is used actively,] root with the vine, patience thus increasing!—As to untwine is here used for to cease to twine, so, in King Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. II. the word uncontemned having been used, the poet has constructed the remainder of the sentence as if he had written not contemned. See vol. vi. p. 374, n. 7. Malone. Sir John Hawkins proposes to read—entwine. He says “Let the stinking elder [Grief] entwine his root with the vine [Patience] and in the end Patience must outgrow Grief.” Steevens. There is no need of alteration. The elder is a plant whose roots are much shorter lived than the vine's, and as those of the vine swell and outgrow them, they must of necessity loosen their hold. Henley.

Note return to page 346 8It is great morning.] A Gallicism. Grand jour. See the same phrase vol. viii. p. 369. Steevens.

Note return to page 347 9&lblank; than answering A slave without a knock.] Than answering that abusive word slave. Slave should be printed in Italicks. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's interpretation is supported by a passage in Romeo and Juliet: “Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again.” Malone.

Note return to page 348 1&lblank; for I wear not My dagger in my mouth,] So, in Solyman and Perseda, 1599: “I fight not with my tongue: this is my oratrix.” Malone. So Macduff says to Macbeth: “&lblank; I have no words, “My voice is in my sword.” Boswell.

Note return to page 349 2No,] This negation is at once superfluous and injurious to the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 350 3No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, Which as it seems, make thee.] See a note on a similar passage in a former scene, p. 117, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 351 4Die the death:] See vol. ix. p. 92, n. 1; and vol. v. p. 179, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 352 5Yield, rustick mountaineer.] I believe, upon examination, the character of Cloten will not prove a very consistent one. Act I. Sc. IV. the Lords who are conversing with him on the subject of his rencontre with Posthumus, represent the latter as having neither put forth his strength or courage, but still advancing forwards to the prince, who retired before him; yet at this his last appearance, we see him fighting gallantly, and falling by the hand of Guiderius. The same persons afterwards speak of him as of a mere ass or ideot; and yet, Act III. Sc. I. he returns one of the noblest and most reasonable answers to the Roman envoy: and the rest of his conversation on the same occasion, though it may lack form a little, by no means resembles the language of folly. He behaves with proper dignity and civility at parting with Lucius, and yet is ridiculous and brutal in his treatment of Imogen. Belarius describes him as not having sense enough to know what fear is (which he defines as being sometimes the effect of judgment); and yet he forms very artful schemes for gaining the affection of his mistress, by means of her attendants; to get her person into his power afterwards; and seems to be no less acquainted with the character of his father, and the ascendancy the Queen maintained over his uxorious weakness. We find Cloten, in short, represented at once as brave and dastardly, civil and brutish, sagacious and foolish, without that subtilty of distinction, and those shades of gradation between sense and folly, virtue and vice, which constitute the excellence of such mixed characters as Polonius in Hamlet, and the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 6&lblank; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking.] This is one of our author's strokes of observation. An abrupt and tumultuous utterance very frequently accompanies a confused and cloudy understanding. Johnson.

Note return to page 354 7&lblank; for the effect of judgment Is oft the cause of fear:] [Old copy—defect of judgement—] If I understand this passage, it is mock reasoning as it stands, and the text must have been slightly corrupted. Belarius is giving a description of what Cloten formerly was; and in answer to what Arviragus says of his being so fell. “Ay, (says Belarius) he was so fell; and being scarce then at man's estate, he had no apprehension of roaring terrors, i. e. of any thing that could check him with fears.” But then, how does the inference come in, built upon this? “For defect of judgment is oft the cause of fear.” I think the poet meant to have said the mere contrary. Cloten was defective in judgment, and therefore did not fear. Apprehensions of fear grow from a judgment in weighing dangers. And a very easy change, from the traces of the letters, gives us this sense, and reconciles the reasoning of the whole passage: “&lblank; for th' effect of judgment “Is oft the cause of fear &lblank;.” Theobald. Sir T. Hanmer reads with equal justness of sentiment: “&lblank; for defect of judgment “Is oft the cure of fear &lblank;.” But, I think, the play of effect and cause more resembling the manner of our author. Johnson. If fear, as in other passages of Shakspeare, be understood in an active signification for what may cause fear, it means that Cloten's defect of judgment caused him to commit actions to the terror of others, without due consideration of his own danger therein. Thus, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; all these bold fears, “Thou see'st with peril I have answered.” Tollet. The objection to this interpretation is, that in this clause of the sentence it was evidently the poet's intention to assign a reason for Cloten's being himself free from apprehension, not to account for his terrifying others. It is undoubtedly true, that defect of judgment, or not rightly estimating the degree of danger, and the means of resistance, is often the cause of fear: the being possessed of judgment also may occasion fear, as he who maturely weighs all circumstances will know precisely his danger; while the inconsiderate is rash and fool-hardy: but neither of these assertions, however true, can account for Cloten's having no apprehension of roaring terrors; and therefore the passage must be corrupt. Mr. Theobald amends the text by reading: “&lblank; for the effect of judgment “Is oft the cause of fear.” but, though Shakspeare has in King Richard III. used effect and cause as synonymous, I do not think it probable he would say the effect was the cause; nor do I think the effect and the defect likely to have been confounded: besides, the passage thus amended is liable to the objection already stated. I have therefore adopted Sir Thomas Hanmer's emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 355 8&lblank; not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:] This thought had occurred before in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; if he knock out either of your brains, a' were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 356 9I am perfect, what:] I am well informed, what. So, in this play: “I am perfect, the Pannonians are in arms.” Johnson.

Note return to page 357 1&lblank; take us in,] To take in, was the phrase in use for to apprehend an out-law, or to make him amenable to publick justice. Johnson. To take in means, simply, to conquer, to subdue. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; cut the Ionian seas, “And take in Toryne.” Steevens. That Mr. Steevens's explanation of this phrase is the true one, appears from the present allusion to Cloten's speech, and also from the speech itself in the former part of this scene. He had not threatened to render these outlaws amenable to justice, but to kill them with his own hand: “Die the death: “When I have slain thee with my proper hand,” &c. “He'd fetch us in,” is used a little lower by Belarius, in the sense assigned by Dr. Johnson to the phrase before us. Malone.

Note return to page 358 2&lblank; (thank the gods!)] The old copies have—“(thanks the gods.)” Mr. Rowe, and other editors after him,—“thanks to the gods.” But by the present omission of the letter s, and the restoration of the parenthesis, I suppose this passage, as it now stands in the text, to be as our author gave it. Steevens.

Note return to page 359 3&lblank; The law Protects not us:] We meet with the same sentiment in Romeo and Juliet: “The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.” Steevens.

Note return to page 360 4For we do fear the law?] For is here used in the sense of because. So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “See the simplicity of these base slaves! “Who, for the villains have no faith themselves, “Think me to be a senseless lump of clay.” Again, in Othello: “And, for I know thou art full of love,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 361 5&lblank; Though his humour Was nothing but mutation; &c.] [Old copy—his honour.] What has his honour to do here, in his being changeable in this sort? in his acting as a madman, or not? I have ventured to substitute humour, against the authority of the printed copies: and the meaning seems plainly this: “Though he was always fickle to the last degree, and governed by humour, not sound sense; yet not madness itself could make him so hardy to attempt an enterprize of this nature alone, and unseconded.” Theobald. The text is right, and means, that the only notion he had of honour, was the fashion, which was perpetually changing. Warburton. This would be a strange description of honour; and appears to me in its present form to be absolute nonsense. The sense indeed absolutely requires that we should adopt Theobald's amendment, and read humour instead of honour. Belarius is speaking of the disposition of Cloten, not of his principles:—and this account of him agrees with what Imogen says in the latter end of the scene, where she calls him “that irregulous devil Cloten.” M. Mason. I am now convinced that the poet wrote—his humour, as Mr. Theobald suggested. The context strongly supports the emendation; but what decisively entitles it to a place in the text is, that the editor of the folio has, in like manner printed honour instead of humour in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. III.: “Falstaff will learn the honour of the age.” The quarto reads rightly—“the humour of the age.” On the other hand in the quarto, signat. A 3, we find, “&lblank; Sir, my honour is not for many words,” instead of “&lblank; Sir, my humour,” &c. Again, in the quarto edition of Romeo and Juliet, 1597, we find: “Pursued my honor not pursuing his.” And again, immediately afterwards: “Black and portentous must this honor prove.” Malone.

Note return to page 362 6Did make my way long forth.] Fidele's sickness made my walk forth from the cave tedious. Johnson. So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; our crosses on the way, “Have made it tedious,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 363 7&lblank; revenges, That possible strength might meet,] Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any possibility of opposition. Johnson.

Note return to page 364 8&lblank; To gain his colour,] i. e. to restore him to the bloom of health, to recall the colour of it into his cheeks. Steevens.

Note return to page 365 9I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,] I would, says the young prince, to recover Fidele, kill as many Clotens as would fill a parish. Johnson. “His visage, (says Fenner of a catchpole,) was almost eaten through with pock-holes, so that half a parish of children might have played at cherry-pit in his face.” Farmer. Again, in The Wits, by Davenant, fol. 1673, p. 222: “Heaven give you joy sweet master Palatine “And to you sir a whole parish of children.” Reed. The sense of the passage is, I would let blood (or bleed) a whole parish, or any number, of such fellows as Cloten; not, “I would let out a parish of blood.” Edwards. Mr. Edward is, I think, right. In the fifth Act we have: “This man—hath “More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens “Had ever scar for.” Malone.

Note return to page 366 1O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys!] The first folio has: “Thou divine Nature; thou thyself thou blazon'st &lblank;.” In the old copy the word thou was inadvertently repeated by the compositor— “Thou divine Nature; thou thyself thou blazon'st.” For this slight emendation, which the context fully supports, I am responsible. Malone. I have received this emendation, which is certainly judicious. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 2&lblank; They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, &c.] So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “His qualities were beauteous as his form, “For maiden tongu'd he was, and thereof free; “Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm “As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, “When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.” Malone.

Note return to page 368 3&lblank; 'Tis wonderful,] Old copies—wonder. The correction is Mr. Pope's. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Keep a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.” Steevens.

Note return to page 369 4That an invisible instínct should frame them &lblank;] The metre, says Mr. Heath, would be improved by reading: “That an instinct invisible should frame them &lblank;.” He probably did not perceive that in Shakspeare's time the accent was laid on the second syllable of the word instinct. So, in one of our poet's Sonnets: “As if by some instínct the wretch did find &lblank;.” The old copy is certainly right. Malone.

Note return to page 370 5&lblank; lamenting toys,] Toys formerly signified freaks, or frolicks. One of N. Breton's poetical pieces, printed in 1557, is called, “The toyes of an idle head.” See Cole's Dict. 1679, in v. Malone. Toys are trifles. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “That for a toy, a thing of no regard.” Again, in Hamlet: “Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.” Steevens.

Note return to page 371 6O, melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom?] So, in Alba, the Monthes Mind of a Melancholy Lover, by R. T. 1598: “This woeful tale, where sorrow is the ground, “Whose bottom's such as nere the depth is found.” Malone.

Note return to page 372 7&lblank; what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in?] The folio reads: “&lblank; thy sluggish care?” which Dr. Warburton allows to be a plausible reading, but substitutes carrack in its room; and with this, Dr. Johnson tacitly acquiesced, and inserted it in the text. Mr. Simpson, among his notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, has retrieved the true reading, which is— “&lblank; thy sluggish crare:” See The Captain, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; let him venture “In some decay'd crare of his own.” A crare, says Mr. Heath, is a small trading vessel, called in the Latin of the middle ages crayera. The same word, though somewhat differently spelt, occurs in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, book xxxix Stanza 28: “To ships, and barks, with gallies, bulks and crayes,” &c. Again, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “Behold a form to make your craers and barks.” Again, in Drayton's Miseries of Queen Margaret: “After a long chase took this little cray, “Which he suppos'd him safely should convey.” Again, in the 22d Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “&lblank; some shell, or little crea, Hard labouring for the land on the high working sea.” Again, in Amintas for his Phillis, published in England's Helicon, 1600: “Till thus my soule dooth passe in Charon's crare.” Mr. Tollet observes that the word often occurs in Holinshed, as twice, p. 906, vol. ii. Steevens. The word is used in the stat. 2 Jac. i. c. 32: “&lblank; the owner of every ship, vessel, or crayer.” Tyrwhitt. Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—“thou, sluggish crare, might'st,” &c. The epithet sluggish is used with equal propriety, a crayer being a very slow-sailing unwieldy vessel. See Florio's Italian Dict. 1598, “Vurchio. A hulke, a crayer, a lyter, a wherrie, or such vessel of burthen.” Malone.

Note return to page 373 8&lblank; but I,] This is the reading of the first folio, which later editors not understanding, have changed into “but ah!” The meaning of the passage I take to be this:—“Jove knows, what man thou might'st have made, but I know, thou died'st,” &c. Tyrwhitt. I believe, “but ah!” to be the true reading. Ay is through the first folio, and in all books of that time, printed instead of ah! Hence probably I, which was used for the affirmative participle ay, crept into the text here. “Heaven knows (says Belarius) what a man thou would'st have been, had'st thou lived; but alas! thou died'st of melancholy, while yet only a most accomplished boy.” Malone.

Note return to page 374 9Stark,] i. e. stiff. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; guiltless labour “When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “And many a nobleman lies stark— “Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies.” Steevens.

Note return to page 375 1&lblank; clouted brogues &lblank;] Are shoes strengthened with clout or hob-nails. In some parts of England, thin plates of iron, called clouts, are likewise fixed to the shoes of ploughmen and other rusticks. Brog is the Irish word for a kind of shoe peculiar to that kingdom. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 2Why, he but sleeps:] I cannot forbear to introduce a passage somewhat like this, from Webster's White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, [1612] on account of its singular beauty: “Oh, thou soft natural death! thou art joint twin “To sweetest slumber! no rough-bearded comet “Stares on thy mild departure: the dull owl “Beats not against thy casement: the hoarse wolf “Scents not thy carrion:—pity winds thy corse, “While horror waits on princes!” Steevens.

Note return to page 377 3And worms will not come to thee.] This change from the second person to the third, is so violent, that I cannot help imputing it to the players, transcribers, or printers; and therefore wish to read: “And worms will not come to him.” Steevens. This is another instance in support of what I have said upon a former passage: “&lblank; Euriphile “Thou wast their nurse, they took thee for their mother, “And every day do honour to her grave.” Malone.

Note return to page 378 4With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts, &c.] So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, (edit. 1609): “No, I will rob Tellus of her weede, “To strewe thy greene with flowers, the yellowes, blues, “The purple violets and marygolds, “Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, “While summer dayes doth last.” Steevens.

Note return to page 379 5&lblank; the ruddock would, With charitable bill,—bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse.] Here again, the metaphor is strangely mangled. What sense is there in winter-grounding a corse with moss? A corse might indeed be said to be winter-grounded in good thick clay. But the epithet furr'd to moss directs us plainly to another reading: “To winter-gown thy corse &lblank;:” i. e. thy summer habit shall be a light gown of flowers, thy winter habit a good warm furr'd gown of moss. Warburton. I have no doubt but that the rejected word was Shakspeare's, since the protection of the dead, and not their ornament, was what he meant to express. To winter-ground a plant, is to protect it from the inclemency of the winter-season, by straw, dung, &c. laid over it. This precaution is commonly taken in respect of tender trees or flowers, such as Arviragus, who loved Fidele, represents her to be. The ruddock is the red-breast, and is so called by Chaucer and Spenser: “The tame ruddock, and the coward kite.” The office of covering the dead is likewise ascribed to the ruddock, by Drayton in his poem called The Owl: “Cov'ring with moss the dead's unclosed eye, “The little red-breast teacheth charitie.” See also, Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, b. i. p. 10. Steevens. “&lblank; the ruddock would,” &c. Is this an allusion to the “Babes of the Wood,” or was the notion of the red-breast covering dead bodies, general before the writing that ballad? Percy. In Cornucopia, or divers Secrets wherein is contained the rare Secrets in Man, Beasts, Foules, Fishes, Trees, Plantes, Stones, and such like most pleasant and profitable, and not before committed to bee printed in English. Newlie drawen out of divers Latine Authors into English, by Thomas Johnson, 4to. 1596, signat. E. it is said: “The robin redbrest if he find a man or woman dead, will cover all his face with mosse, and some thinke that if the body should remaine unburied that he would cover the whole body also.” Reed. This passage is imitated by Webster in his tragedy of The White Devil; and in such manner as confirms the old reading: “Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren, “Since o'er shady groves they hover, “And with leaves and flowers do cover “The friendless bodies of unburied men; “Call unto his funeral dole “The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, “To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,” &c. Farmer. Which of these two plays was first written, cannot now be determined. Webster's play was published in 1612, that of Shakspeare did not appear in print till 1623. In the preface to the edition of Webster's play, he thus speaks of Shakspeare: “And lastly (without wrong last to be named) the right happy and copious industry of M. Shakspeare,” &c. Steevens. We may fairly conclude that Webster imitated Shakspeare; for in the same page from which Dr. Farmer has cited the foregoing lines, is found a passage taken almost literally from Hamlet. It is spoken by a distracted lady: “&lblank; you're very welcome; “Here's rosemary for you, and rue for you; “Heart's ease for you; I pray make much of it; “I have left more for myself.” Dr. Warburton asks, “What sense is there in winter-grounding a corse with moss?” But perhaps winter-ground does not refer to moss, but to the last antecedent, flowers. If this was the construction intended by Shakspeare, the passage should be printed thus: “Yea, and furr'd moss besides,—when flowers are none “To winter-ground thy corse” i. e. you shall have also a warm covering of moss, when there are no flowers to adorn thy grave with that ornament with which Winter is usually decorated. So, in Cupid's Revenge, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1625: “He looks like Winter, stuck here and there with fresh flowers.”—I have not, however, much confidence in this observation. Malone.

Note return to page 380 6As once our mother;] The old copy reads: “As once to our mother;—” The compositor having probably caught the word—to from the preceding line. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 381 7Great griefs, I see, medicine the less:] So again, in this play: “&lblank; a touch more rare “Subdues all pangs, all fears.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; Where the greater malady is fix'd, “The lesser is scarce felt.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 8He was paid for that:] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “He has paid for that:—” rather plausibly than rightly. Paid is for punished. So, Jonson: “Twenty things more, my friend, which you know due, “For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you.” Johnson. So Falstaff, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, after having been beaten, when in the dress of an old woman, says, “I pay'd nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning.” Malone.

Note return to page 383 9&lblank; reverence, (That angel of the world,) &lblank;] Reverence, or due regard to subordination, is the power that keeps peace and order in the world. Johnson.

Note return to page 384 1Fear no more, &c.] This is the topick of consolation that nature dictates to all men on these occasions. The same farewell we have over the dead body in Lucian. &grT;&grea;&grk;&grn;&gro;&grn; &grasa;&grq;&grl;&gri;&gro;&grn; &gro;&grusa;&grk;&gre;&grt;&gri; &grd;&gri;&gry;&grha;&grs;&gre;&gri;&grst;, &gro;&gruc;&grk;&gre;&grt;&gri; &grp;&gre;&gri;&grn;&grha;&grs;&gre;&gri;&grst;, &c. Warburton.

Note return to page 385 2The sceptre, learning, &c.] The poet's sentiment seems to have been this:—All human excellence is equally subject to the stroke of death:—neither the power of kings, nor the science of scholars, nor the art of those whose immediate study is the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final destiny of man. Johnson.

Note return to page 386 3&lblank; the all-dreaded thunder-stone;] So, in Chapman's translation of the fifteenth Iliad: “&lblank; though I sinke beneath “The fate of being shot to hell by Jove's fell thunder-stone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 387 4Fear not slander, &c.] Perhaps: “Fear not slander's censure rash.” Johnson.

Note return to page 388 5Consign to thee,] Perhaps: “Consign to this &lblank;,” And in the former stanza, for—“All follow this,” we might read—“All follow thee.” Johnson. “Consign to thee” is right. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; seal “A dateless bargain to engrossing death.” “To consign to thee,” is ‘to seal the same contract with thee,’ i. e. add their names to thine upon the register of death. Steevens.

Note return to page 389 6No exorciser harm thee!] I have already remarked that Shakspeare invariably uses the word exorciser to express a person who can raise spirits, not one who lays them. M. Mason. See vol. x. p. 490, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 390 7Quiet consummation have;] Consummation is used in the same sense in King Edward III. 1596: “My soul will yield this castle of my flesh, “This mangled tribute, with all willingness, “To darkness, consummation, dust and worms.” Milton, in his Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester, is indebted to the passage before us: “Gentle lady, may thy grave “Peace and quiet ever have.” Steevens. So Hamlet says: “&lblank; 'tis a consummation “Devoutly to be wish'd.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 391 8&lblank; thy grave!] For the obsequies of Fidele, a song was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and abilities. I shall give it a place at the end, in honour of his memory. Johnson.10Q0021

Note return to page 392 9&lblank; Upon their faces:] Shakspeare did not recollect when he wrote these words, that there was but one face on which the flowers could be strewed. This passage might have taught Dr. Warburton not to have disturbed the text in a former scene. See p. 145, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 393 1'Ods pettikins!] This diminutive adjuration is used by Decker and Webster in Westward Hoe, 1607; in The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft, 1600. It is derived from “God's my pity,” which likewise occurs in Cymbeline. Steevens.

Note return to page 394 2Which the brain makes of fumes:] So, in Macbeth: “That memory, the warder of the brain, “Shall be a fume.” Steevens.

Note return to page 395 3&lblank; his Jovial face &lblank;] Jovial face signifies in this place, such a face as belongs to Jove. It is frequently used in the same sense by other old dramatick writers. So, Heywood, in The Silver Age: “&lblank; Alcides here will stand, “To plague you all with his high Jovial hand.” Again, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Thou Jovial hand hold up thy scepter high.” Again, in his Golden Age, 1611, speaking of Jupiter: “&lblank; all that stand, “Sink in the weight of his high Jovial hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 396 4Conspir'd with that irregulous devil,] I suppose it should be— “Conspir'd with th' irreligious devil &lblank;.” Johnson. Irregulous (if there be such a word) must mean lawless, licentious, out of rule, jura negans sibi nata. In Reinolds's God's Revenge against Adultery, edit. 1679, p. 121, I meet with “irregulated lust.” Steevens.

Note return to page 397 5&lblank; the main-top!] i. e. the top of the mainmast. Steevens.

Note return to page 398 6Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on.—] I would willingly read: “And left thy head on.” Steevens. This head means the head of Posthumus; the head that did belong to this body. See p. 169, n. 9. Malone.

Note return to page 399 7&lblank; 'tis pregnant, pregnant!] i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conclusion. So, in Hamlet: “How pregnant sometimes his replies are?” Steevens.

Note return to page 400 8Sienna's brother.] i. e. (as I suppose Shakspeare to have meant) brother to the Prince of Sienna: but, unluckily, Sienna was a republick. See W. Thomas's Historye of Italye, 4to. bl. l. 1561, p. 7, b. Steevens.

Note return to page 401 9Last night the very gods show'd me a vision:] It was no common dream, but sent from the very gods, or the gods themselves. Johnson.

Note return to page 402 1I fast, and pray'd,] Fast is here very licentiously used for fasted. So, in the novel subjoined to this play, we find—lift for lifted. Malone. Similar inaccuracies occur in our Bible translation: “He took her by the hand and lift her up.” Mark i. 31.—“He hath lift up his heel against me.” John xiii. 18.—“Roast with fire.” Exod. xii. 8, &c. Blakeway.

Note return to page 403 2&lblank; the spungy south &lblank;] Milton has availed himself of this epithet, in his Masque at Ludlow Castle: “&lblank; Thus I hurl “My dazzling spells into the spungy air.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 3&lblank; who was he, That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath alter'd that good picture?] To do a picture, and a picture is well done, are standing phrases; the question therefore is,—Who has altered this picture, so as to make it otherwise than nature did it? Johnson. Olivia, speaking of her own beauty as of a picture, asks Viola if it “is not well done?” Again, in Chapman's version of the Iliad: “&lblank; The golden scourge most elegantly done “He tooke, and mounted to his seate &lblank;.” Again, in the 14th book: “&lblank; I'll grace thee with a throne “Incorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done “By Mulciber.” Steevens. Fecit was, till lately, the technical term universally annexed to pictures and engravings. Henley.

Note return to page 405 4Try many, all good, serve truly, never &lblank;] We may be certain that this line was originally complete. I would, therefore, for the sake of metre, read: “Try many, and all good; serve truly, never,” &c. It may be here observed, that the following is Chapman's version of a passage in the 14th Odyssey of Homer: “&lblank; for I never shall “Finde so humane a royall mayster more, “Whatever sea I seeke, whatever shore.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 5Richard du Champ,] Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names (which sometimes are mixed with ancient ones) as well as his anachronisms, to the fashionable novels of his time. In a collection of stories, entitled A Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 1576, I find the following circumstances of ignorance and absurdity. In the story of the Horatii and the Curatii, the roaring of cannons is mentioned. Cephalus and Procris are said to be of the court of Venice; and “that her father wrought so with the duke, that this Cephalus was sent post in ambassage to the Turke.”—Eriphile, after the death of her husband Amphiaraus, (the Theban prophet) calling to mind the affection wherein Don Infortunio was drowned towards her,” &c. Cannon-shot is found in Golding's version of Ovid's Metamorphosis, b. iii. Steevens. This absurdity was not confined to novels. In Lodge's Wounds of Ciuill War, 1594, one of the directions is, “Enter Lucius Fauorinus, Pausanias, with Pedro a Frenchman,” who speaks broken English; the earliest dramatick specimen of this sort of jargon now extant. Ritson.

Note return to page 407 6Fidele.] Old copy—Fidele, sir; but for the sake of metre I have omitted this useless word of address, which has already occurred in the same line. Steevens.

Note return to page 408 7Thy name well fits thy faith;] A similar thought has been already met with in King Henry V. where Pistol having announced his name, the King replies: “It sorts well with your fierceness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 409 8&lblank; these poor pickaxes &lblank;] Meaning her fingers. Johnson.

Note return to page 410 9So please you entertain me.] i. e. hire me; receive me unto your service. See vol. viii. p. 39, n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 411 1And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave:] Surely the Roman troops had no pioneers among them; and how a grave could be made with such instruments as are here specified, our poet has not informed us. After all, a grave is not made; but Cloten is found lying on the surface of the earth, with the supposed remains of Imogen. Steevens.

Note return to page 412 2&lblank; arm him.] That is, “Take him up in your arms.” Hanmer. So, in Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen: “&lblank; Arm your prize, “I know you will not lose her.” The prize was Emilia. Steevens.

Note return to page 413 3&lblank; Cymbeline's Palace.] This scene is omitted against all authority by Sir T. Hanmer. It is indeed of no great use in the progress of the fable, yet it makes a regular preparation for the next Act. Johnson. The fact is, that Sir Thomas Hanmer has inserted this supposed omission as the eighth Scene of Act III. The scene which in Dr. Johnson's first edition is the eighth of Act III. is printed in a small letter under it in Sir T. Hanmer's, on a supposition that it was spurious. In this impression it is the third Scene of Act IV. and that which in Dr. Johnson is the eighth Scene of Act IV. is in this the seventh Scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 414 4And will,] I think it should be read—“And he'll.” Steevens. There are several other instances of the personal pronoun being omitted in these plays, beside the present, particularly in King Henry VIII. nor is Shakspeare the only writer of that age that takes this liberty. So, in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 793, edit. 1631: “&lblank; after that he tooke boat at Queen Hith, and so came to his house; where missing the afore named counsellors, fortified his house with full purpose to die in his own defence.” Again, in the Continuation of Hardyng's Chronicle, 1543: “Then when they heard that Henry was safe returned into Britagne, rejoyced not a little.” Again, in Anthony Wood's Diary, ad ann. 1652: “One of these, a most handsome virgin,—kneel'd down to Thomas Wood, with tears and prayers to save her life: and being strucken with a deep remorse, tooke her under his arme, went with her out of the church,” &c. See also vol. x. p. 111. Malone.

Note return to page 415 5&lblank; our jealousy Does yet depend.] My suspicion is yet determined; if I do not condemn you, I likewise have not acquitted you. We now say, the cause is depending. Johnson.

Note return to page 416 6I am amaz'd with matter.] i. e. confounded by a variety of business. So, in King John: “I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way, “Among the thorns and dangers of this world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 417 7Your preparation can affront, &c.] Your forces are able to face such an army as we hear the enemy will bring against us. Johnson. See p. 193, n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 418 8I heard no letter &lblank;] I suppose we should read with Sir T. Hanmer: “I've had no letter &lblank;.” Steevens. Perhaps letter here means, not an epistle, but the elemental part of a syllable. This might have been a phrase in Shakspeare's time. We yet say—I have not heard a syllable from him. Malone.

Note return to page 419 9&lblank; not true, to be true.] The uncommon roughness of this line persuades me that the words—to be, are an interpolation, which, to prevent an ellipsis, has destroyed the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 420 1&lblank; to the note o' the king,] I will so distinguish myself, the king shall remark my valour. Johnson.

Note return to page 421 2&lblank; find we &lblank;] Old copy—we find. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 422 3&lblank; revolts &lblank;] i. e. revolters. So, in King John: “Lead me to the revolts of England here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 423 4&lblank; a render Where we have liv'd;] An account of our place of abode. This dialogue is a just representation of the superfluous caution of an old man. Johnson. Render is used in a similar sense in Timon of Athens, Act V.: “And sends us forth to make their sorrow'd render.” Steevens. So again, in this play: “My boon is, that this gentleman may render, “Of whom he had this ring.” Malone.

Note return to page 424 5&lblank; whose answer &lblank;] The retaliation of the death of Cloten would be death, &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 425 6&lblank; the Roman horses &lblank;] Old copy—their Roman. This is one of the many corruptions into which the transcriber was led by his ear. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 426 7&lblank; their quarter'd fires,] Their fires regularly disposed. Johnson. Quarter'd fires I believe, means no more than fires in the respective quarters of the Roman army. Steevens. So, in Henry V.: “Fire answers fire: and through their paly flames “Each battle sees the other's umberd face.” Malone.

Note return to page 427 8The certainty of this hard life;] That is, the certain consequence of this hard life. Malone.

Note return to page 428 9&lblank; o'ergrown,] Thus, Spenser: “&lblank; o'ergrown with old decay, “And hid in darkness that none could behold “The hue thereof.” Steevens.

Note return to page 429 1&lblank; bloody handkerchief.] The bloody token of Imogen's death, which Pisanio in the foregoing Act determined to send. Johnson.

Note return to page 430 2Yea, bloody cloth, &c.] This is a soliloquy of nature, uttered when the effervescence of a mind agitated and perturbed, spontaneously and inadvertently discharges itself in words. The speech throughout all its tenor, if the last conceit be excepted, seems to issue warm from the heart. He first condemns his own violence; then tries to disburden himself by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio; he next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary tranquility, by trying to think that he has been only an instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen. He is now grown reasonable enough to determine, that having done so much evil he will do no more; that he will not fight against the country which he has already injured; but as life is not longer supportable, he will die in a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man who does not think himself worthy to be remembered. Johnson.

Note return to page 431 3&lblank; I wish'd &lblank;] The old copy reads—“I am wish'd.” Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 432 4For wrying but a little?] This uncommon verb is likewise used by Stanyhurst in the third book of the translation of Virgil, 1582: “&lblank; the maysters wrye their vessels.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. i. edit. 1633, p. 67: “&lblank; that from the right line of vertue are wryed to these crooked shifts.” Again, in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1599: “&lblank; in her sinking down she wryes “The diadem &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 433 5&lblank; to put on &lblank;] Is to incite, to instigate. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the powers above “Put on their instruments.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 6&lblank; each elder worse;] For this reading all the later editors have contentedly taken, “&lblank; each worse than other;” without enquiries whence they have received it. Yet they knew, or might know, that it has no authority. The original copy reads: “&lblank; each elder worse;” The last deed is certainly not the oldest, but Shakspeare calls the deed of an elder man an elder deed. Johnson. “&lblank; each elder worse;” i. e. where corruptions are, they grow with years, and the oldest sinner is the greatest. You, Gods, permit some to proceed in iniquity, and the older such are, the more their crime. Tollet. I believe our author must answer for this inaccuracy, and that he inadvertently considered the latter evil deed as the elder; having probably some general notion in his mind of a quantity of evil commencing with our first parents, and gradually accumulating in process of time by a repetition of crimes. Malone.

Note return to page 435 7And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.] The divinity schools have not furnished juster observations on the conduct of Providence, than Posthumus gives us here in his private reflections. You gods, says he, act in a different manner with your different creatures: “You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, “To have them fall no more:—” Others, says our poet, you permit to live on, to multiply and increase in crimes: “And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift,” Here is a relative without an antecedent substantive; which is a breach of grammar. We must certainly read: “And make them dreaded to the doer's thrift.” i. e. others you permit to aggravate one crime with more; which enormities not only make them revered and dreaded, but turn in other kinds to their advantage. Dignity, respect, and profit, accrue to them from crimes committed with impunity. Theobald. This emendation is followed by Sir T. Hanmer. Dr. Warburton reads, I know not whether by the printer's negligence: “And make them dread to the doer's thrift.” There seems to be no very satisfactory sense yet offered. I read, but with hesitation,— “And make them deeded to the doers' thrift.” The word deeded I know not indeed where to find; but Shakspeare has, in another sense, undeeded in Macbeth: “&lblank; my sword “I sheath again undeeded.” I will try again, and read thus: “&lblank; others you permit “To second ills with ills, each other worse, “And make them trade it to the doer's thrift.” Trade and thrift correspond. Our author plays with trade, as it signifies a lucrative vocation, or a frequent practice. So Isabella says, “Thy sin's, not accidental, but a trade.” Johnson. However ungrammatical, I believe the old reading is the true one. To make them dread it is to make them persevere in the commission of dreadful actions. Dr. Johnson has observed on a passage in Hamlet, that Pope and Rowe have not refused this mode of speaking:—“To sinner it, or saint it,”—and “to coy it.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's interpretation appears to me inadmissible. Malone. There is a meaning to be extracted from these words as they now stand, and in my opinion not a bad one:—“Some you snatch from hence for little faults; others you suffer to heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread their having done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers.” The whole speech is in a religious strain.—Thrift signifies a state of prosperity. It is not the commission of the crimes that is supposed to be for the doer's thrift, but his dreading them afterwards, and of course repenting, which ensures his salvation.— The same sentiment occurs in The False One, though not so seriously introduced, where the Soldier, speaking of the contrition of Septimius, who murdered Pompey, says, “he was happy he was a rascal, to come to this.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 436 8&lblank; Do your best wills, And make me bless'd to obey!] So the copies. It was more in the manner of our author to have written: “&lblank; Do your bless'd wills, “And make be bless'd to obey!” Johnson.

Note return to page 437 9&lblank; this carl,] Carl or churl (ceorl, Sax.) is a clown or husbandman. Ritson. Verstegan says ceorle, now written churle, was anciently understood for a a sturdy fellow. Reed. Carle is used by our old writers in opposition to a gentleman. See the poem of John the Reeve. Percy. I am afraid we cannot see it. Dr. Percy quotes from his own MS. and the poem, I believe was never printed. See Reliques of Anc. Poet. vol. iii. p. 179. Edit. 1794. Boswell. Carlot is a word of the same signification, and occurs in our author's As You Like It, vol. vi. p. 463. Again in an ancient Interlude, or Morality, printed by Rastell, without title or date: “A carlys sonne, brought up of nought.” The thought seems to have been imitated in Philaster: “The gods take part against me; could this boor “Have held me thus else?” Steevens.

Note return to page 438 1But that the heavens fought:] So, in Judges, v. 20: “They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against Sisera.” Steevens.

Note return to page 439 2&lblank; The king himself Of his wings destitute,] “The Danes rushed forth with such violence upon their adversaries, that first the right, and then after the left wing of the Scots, was constreined to retire and flee back.—Haie beholding the king, with the most part of the nobles, fighting with great valiancie in the middle ward, now destitute of the wings, &c.” Holinshed. See the next note. Malone.

Note return to page 440 3Close by the battle, &c.] The stopping of the Roman army by three persons, is an allusion to the story of the Hays, as related by Holinshed in his History of Scotland, p. 155: “There was neere to the place of the battel, a long lane fensed on the sides with ditches and walles made of turfe, through the which the Scots which fled were beaten downe by the enemies on heapes. “Here Haie with his sonnes supposing they might best staie the flight, placed themselves overthwart the lane, beat them backe whom they meet fleeing, and spared neither friend nor fo; but downe they went all such as came within their reach, wherewith divers hardie personages cried unto their fellowes to returne backe unto the battell,” &c. It appears from Peck's New Memoirs, &c. Article 88, that Milton intended to have written a play on this subject. Musgrave.

Note return to page 441 4The country base,] i. e. a rustick game called prison-bars, vulgarly prison-base. So, in the tragedy of Hoffman, 1632: “&lblank; I'll run a little course “At base, or barley-brake &lblank;.” Again, in The Antipodes, 1638: “&lblank; my men can run at base.” Again, in the 30th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “At hood-wink, barley-brake, at tick, or prison-base.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book v. ch. viii: “So ran they all as they had been at bace.” Steevens. See vol. iv. p. 23. Malone.

Note return to page 442 5&lblank; for preservation cas'd, or shame,)] Shame, for modesty. Warburton.

Note return to page 443 6&lblank; they victors made:] The old copy has—the victors, &c. The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 444 7&lblank; became The life o' the need;] i. e. that have become the life, &c. Shakspeare should have written become, but there is, I believe, no corruption. In his 134th Sonnet, he perhaps again uses came as a participle: “The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, “Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, “And sue a friend, came debtor for thy sake.” Became, however, in the text may be a verb. If this was intended, the parenthesis should be removed. Malone.

Note return to page 445 8&lblank; bugs &lblank;] Terrors. Johnson. So, in The First Part of Jeronimo, 1605: “Where nought but furies, bugs, and tortures dwell.” Again, in The Battle of Alcazar, 1594: “Is Amurath Bassa such a bug, “That he is mark'd to do this doughty deed?” Steevens. See Henry VI. Third Part, Act. V. Sc. II. “For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all,” where, as well as in many other places, bug is used for bugbear. Malone.

Note return to page 446 9Nay, do not wonder at it:] Posthumus first bids him not wonder, then tells him in another mode of reproach, that wonder is all that he was made for. Johnson.

Note return to page 447 1&lblank; This is a lord!] Read: This a lord! Ritson.

Note return to page 448 2&lblank; I, in mine own woe charm'd,] Alluding to the common superstition of charms being powerful enough to keep men unhurt in battle. It was derived from our Saxon ancestors, and so is common to us with the Germans, who are above all other people given to this superstition; which made Erasmus, where, in his Moriæ Encomium, he gives to each nation its proper characteristick, say, “Germani corporum proceritate et magiæ cognitione sibi placent.” And Prior, in his Alma: “North Britons hence have second sight; “And Germans free from gun-shot fight.” Warburton. See vol. xi. p. 271, n. 6. So, in Drayton's Nymphidia: “Their seconds minister an oath “Which was indifferent to them both, “That, on their nightly faith and troth,   “No magick them supplied; “And sought them that they had no charms “Wherewith to work each other's harms, “But come with simple open arms   “To have their causes tried.” Again, in Chapman's version of the tenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “Enter her roof; for thou'rt to all proof charm'd “Against the ill day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 449 3&lblank; favourer to the Roman,] The editions before Sir Thomas Hanmer's, for Roman read Briton; and Dr. Warburton reads Briton still. Johnson.

Note return to page 450 4&lblank; great the answer be &lblank;] Answer, as once in this play before, is retaliation. Johnson.

Note return to page 451 5&lblank; a silly habit,] Silly is simple or rustick. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; twenty silly ducking observants &lblank;.” Steevens. So, in the novel of Boccace, on which this play is formed: “The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew pitifull, took off her upper garment, and gave her a poore ragged doublet, a silly chapperone.” &c. The Decameron, 1620. Malone.

Note return to page 452 6That gave the affront with them.] That is, that turned their faces to the enemy. Johnson. So, in Ben Jonson's Alchymist: “To day thou shalt have ingots, and to-morrow “Give lords the affront.” Steevens. To affront, Minsheu explains thus in his Dictionary, 1617: “To come face to face. v. Encounter.” Affrontare, Ital. Malone.

Note return to page 453 7&lblank; Stand!] I would willingly, for the sake of metre, omit this useless word, and read the whole passage thus: “But none of them can be found.—Who's there? “Post. A Roman &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 454 8Enter Cymbeline, &c.] This is the only instance in these plays of the business of the scene being entirely performed in dumb show. The direction must have proceeded from the players, as it is perfectly unnecessary, and our author has elsewhere [in Hamlet] expressed his contempt of such mummery. Ritson.

Note return to page 455 9You shall not now be stolen,] The wit of the Gaoler alludes to the custom of putting a lock on a horse's leg, when he is turned to pasture. Johnson.

Note return to page 456 1&lblank; to satisfy, If of of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me, than my all.] Posthumus questions whether contrition be sufficient atonement for guilt. Then, to satisfy the offended gods, he desires them to take no more than his present all, that is, his life, if it is the main part, the chief point, or principal condition of his freedom, i. e. of his freedom from future punishment. This interpretation appears to be warranted by the former part of the speech. Sir T. Hanmer reads: “I doff my freedom &lblank;.” Steevens. I believe Posthumus means to say, “Since for my crimes I have been deprived of my freedom, and since life itself is more valuable than freedom, let the gods take my life, and by this let heaven be appeased, how small soever the atonement may be.” I suspect, however, that a line has been lost, after the word satisfy. If the text be right, to satisfy means, by way of satisfaction. Malone.

Note return to page 457 2&lblank; cold bonds.] This equivocal use of bonds is another instance of our author's infelicity in pathetick speeches. Johnson. An allusion to the same legal instrument has more than once debased the imagery of Shakspeare. So, in Macbeth: “Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond “That keeps me pale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 458 3Solemn musick, &c.] Here follow a vision, a masque, and a prophesy, which interrupt the fable without the least necessity, and unmeasurably lengthen this act. I think it plainly foisted in afterwards for mere show, and apparently not of Shakspeare. Pope. Every reader must be of the same opinion. The subsequent narratives of Posthumus, which render this masque, &c. unnecessary, (or perhaps the scenical directions supplied by the poet himself) seem to have excited some manager of a theatre to disgrace the play by the present metrical interpolation. Shakspeare, who has conducted his fifth Act with such matchless skill, could never have designed the vision to be twice described by Posthumus, had this contemptible nonsense been previously delivered on the stage. The following passage from Dr. Farmer's Essay will show that it was no unusual thing for the players to indulge themselves in making additions equally unjustifiable:—“We have a sufficient instance of the liberties taken by the actors, in an old pamphlet by Nash, called Lenten Stuffe, with the Prayse of the Red Herring, 4to. 1599, where he assures us, that in a play of his called The Isle of Dogs, foure Acts, without his consent, or the least guess of his drift or scope, were supplied by the players.” Steevens. In a note on vol. ii. (Article—Shakspeare, Ford, and Jonson,) may be found a strong confirmation of what has been here suggested. Malone. One would think that, Shakspeare's style being too refined for his audiences, the managers had employed some playwright of the old school to regale them with a touch of “King Cambyses' vein.” The margin would be too honourable a place for so impertinent an interpolation. Ritson.

Note return to page 459 4That from me was Posthúmus ript,] Perhaps we should read: “That from my womb Posthumus ript, “Came crying 'mongst his foes.” Johnson. This circumstance is met with in The Devil's Charter, 1607. The play of Cymbeline did not appear in print till 1623: “What would'st thou run again into my womb? “If thou wert there, thou should'st be Posthumus, “And ript out of my sides,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 460 5With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,] The same phrase occurs in Measure for Measure: “I hope you will not mock me with a husband.” Steevens.

Note return to page 461 6And to become the geck &lblank;] And permit Posthumus to become the geck, &c. Malone. A geck is a fool. See vol. xi. p. 497, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 462 7&lblank; Tenantius' &lblank;] See p. 9, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 463 8Jupiter descends &lblank;] It appears from Acolastus, a comedy by T. Palsgrave, chaplain to King Henry VIII. bl. l. 1540, that the descent of deities was common to our stage in its earliest state: “Of whyche the lyke thyng is used to be shewed now a days in stage-plaies, when some God or some Saynt is made to appere forth of a cloude, and succoureth the parties which seemed to be towardes some great danger, through the Soudan's crueltie.” The author, for fear this description should not be supposed to extend itself to our theatres, adds in a marginal note, “the lyke maner used nowe at our days in stage playes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 9The more delay'd, delighted.] That is, the more delightful for being delayed.—It is scarcely necessary to observe, in the thirteenth volume, that Shakspeare uses indiscriminately the active and passive participles. M. Mason. Delighted is here either used for delighted in, or for delighting. So, in Othello: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack &lblank;.” Malone. Though it be hardly worth while to waste a conjecture on the wretched stuff before us, perhaps the author of it, instead of delighted, wrote dilated, i. e. expanded, rendered more copious. This participle occurs in King Henry V. and the verb in Othello. Steevens.

Note return to page 465 1&lblank; my palace crystalline.] Milton has transplanted this idea into his verses In Obitum Præsulis Eliensis: Ventum est Olympi et regiam chrystallinam. Steevens.

Note return to page 466 2He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell:] A passage like this one may suppose to have been ridiculed by Ben Jonson, when in Every Man in his Humour he puts the following strain of poetry into the mouth of Justice Clement: “&lblank; testify,   “How Saturn sitting in an ebon cloud, “Disrob'd his podex white as ivory,   “And through the welkin thunder'd all aloud.” If, however, the dates of Jonson's play and Chapman's translation of the eleventh book of Homer's Iliad, are at all reconcileable, one might be tempted to regard the passage last quoted as a ridicule on the following: “&lblank; on a sable cloud “(To bring them furious to the field) sat thundering out aloud.” Fol. edit. p. 143. Steevens.

Note return to page 467 3&lblank; to foot us:] i. e. to grasp us in his pounces. So, Herbert: “And till they foot and clutch their prey.” Steevens.

Note return to page 468 4Prunes the immortal wing,] A bird is said to prune himself when he clears his feathers from superfluities. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song I.: “Some sitting on the beach, to prune their painted breasts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 469 5&lblank; cloys his beak,] Perhaps we should read: “&lblank; claws his beak.” Tyrwhitt. A cley is the same with a claw in old language. Farmer. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. iv. fol. 69: “And as a catte would ete fishes “Without wetyng of his clees.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Underwoods: “&lblank; from the seize “Of vulture death and those relentless cleys.” Barrett, in his Alvearie, 1580, speaks “of a disease in cattell betwixt the clees of their feete.” And in The Book of Hawking, &c. bl. l. no date, under the article Pounces, it is said, “The cleis within the fote ye shall call aright her pounces.” To claw their beaks, is an accustomed action with hawks and eagles. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 6The marble pavement closes,] So, in T. Heywood's Troia Britannica, cant. xii. st. 77, 1609: “A general shout is given, “And strikes against the marble floors of heaven.” Holt White.

Note return to page 471 7&lblank; our fangled world &lblank;] Fangled seems to have been here used by Shakspeare in the sense of gaudy, vainly decorated. See Johnson's Dict. in v. Perhaps this is the only instance in which the word occurs without new being prefixed to it. Malone. The substantive, as Mr. Todd has observed in his edition of Johnson's Dictionary, occurs without the epithet in Greene, and Antony a Wood.: “There was no feather, no fangle, fan, nor jewel left behind.” Greene's Mamillia. 1583. “A hatred to fangles and the French fooleries of his time.” A. Wood Ath. Ox. ii. col. 456. Boswell.

Note return to page 472 7Tongue, and brain not:] To perfect the line we may read: “Do tongue, and brain not &lblank;:” Steevens.

Note return to page 473 8'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie.] The meaning, which is too thin to be easily caught, I take to be this: “This is a dream or madness, or both,—or nothing,—but whether it be a speech without consciousness, (as in a dream,) or a speech unintelligible, (as in madness, be it as it is,) it is like my course of life.” We might perhaps read: “Whether both, or nothing &lblank;.” Johnson.

Note return to page 474 9&lblank; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much;] i. e. sorry that you have paid too much out of your pocket, and sorry that you are paid, or subdued, too much by the liquor. So, Falstaff: “&lblank; seven of the eleven I paid.” Again, in the fifth Scene of the fourth Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor. Steevens. The word has already occured in this sense, in a former scene: “And though he came our enemy, remember “He was paid for that.” See p. 166, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 475 1&lblank; being drawn of heaviness:] Drawn is embowelled, exenterated. —So in common language a fowl is said to be drawn, when its intestines are taken out. Steevens.

Note return to page 476 2&lblank; of this contradiction you shall now be quit.] Thus, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; Death, “That makes these odds all even.” Steevens.

Note return to page 477 3&lblank; debitor and creditor &lblank;] For an accounting book. Johnson. So, in Othello: “By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster;—” Steevens.

Note return to page 478 4&lblank; jump the after-enquiry &lblank;] That is, venture at it without thought. So, Macbeth: “We'd jump the life to come.” Johnson. To jump is to hazard. So, in the passage quoted from Macbeth by Dr. Johnson. Again, in Coriolanus: “To jump a body with a dangerous physick &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 479 5&lblank; I never saw one so prone.] i. e. forward. In this sense the word is used in Wilfride Holme's poem, entitled The Fall and Evil Success of Rebellion, &c. 1537: “Thus lay they in Doncaster, with curtol and serpentine, “With bombard and basilisk, with men prone and vigorous.” Again, in Sir A. Gorges' translation of the sixth book of Lucan: “&lblank; Thessalian fierie steeds “For use of war so prone and fit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 6SCENE V.] Let those who talk so confidently about the skill of Shakspeare's contemporary, Jonson, point out the conclusion of any one of his plays which is wrought with more artifice, and yet a less degree of dramatick violence than this. In the scene before us, all the surviving characters are assembled; and at the expence of whatever incongruity the former events may have been produced, perhaps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend the most scrupulous advocate for regularity: and, I think, as little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catastrophe which is intricate without confusion, and not more rich in ornament than in nature. Steevens.

Note return to page 481 7&lblank; one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks.] To promise “nothing but poor looks,” may be, ‘to give no promise of courageous behaviour.’ Johnson. So, in King Richard II.: “To look so poorly, and to speak so fair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 482 8&lblank; knights o' the battle;] Thus, in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 164, edit. 1615: “Philip of France made Arthur Plantagenet knight of the fielde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 483 9There's business in these faces:—] So, in Macbeth: “The business of this man looks out of him.” Malone.

Note return to page 484 1Whom worse than a physician &lblank;] Old copy—Who. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 485 2&lblank; yet death Will seize the doctor too.] This observation has been already made at the end of the second stanza of the funeral Song, p. 168: “The sceptre, learning, physick, must “All follow this, and come to dust.” Steevens.

Note return to page 486 2&lblank; bore in hand to love &lblank;] i. e. insidiously taught to depend on her love. See vol. ix. p. 38, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 487 3&lblank; yes, and in time,] Thus the second folio. The first, injuriously to the metre, omits—yes. Steevens.

Note return to page 488 4Mine eyes &lblank;] Sir Thomas Hanmer, very adroitly, in my opinion, supplies the syllable here wanting to the metre, by reading: “Yet, mine eyes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 489 5So feat,] So ready; so dexterous in waiting. Johnson.

Note return to page 490 6His favour is familiar &lblank;] I am acquainted with his countenance. Johnson.

Note return to page 491 7I know not why, nor wherefore, To say, live, boy:] I know not what should induce me to say, live, boy. The word nor was inserted by Mr. Rowe. The late editions have—I say, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 492 8&lblank; reviv'd from death?] The words—from death, which spoil the measure, are an undoubted interpolation. From what else but death could Imogen, in the opinion of Belarius, have revived? Steevens.

Note return to page 493 9&lblank; which &lblank;] Mr. Ritson (and I perfectly agree with him) is of opinion that this pronoun should be omitted, as in elliptical language, on similar occasions, is often known to have been the case. How injurious this syllable is to the present measure, I think no reader of judgment can fail to perceive. Steevens. If we lay an emphasis on that, it will be an hypermetrical line of eleven syllables. There is scarcely a page in Fletcher's plays where this sort of versification is not to be found. Boswell.

Note return to page 494 1&lblank; Wilt thou hear more, my lord? &c.] The metre will become perfectly regular if we read: “'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt more, my lord? “Cym. All that “Belongs to this. “Iach. That paragon, thy daughter &lblank;.” In elliptical language, such words as—thou hear, are frequently omitted; but the players, or transcribers, as in former instances, were unsatisfied till the metre was destroyed by the insertion of whatever had been purposely left out. Steevens.

Note return to page 495 2Quail to remember,] To quail is to sink into dejection. The word is common to many authors. So, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “She cannot quail me if she come in likeness of the great Devil.” See vol. vi. p. 385, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 496 3&lblank; for feature, laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature;] Feature for proportion of parts, which Mr. Theobald not understanding, would alter to stature: “&lblank; for feature, laming “The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, “Postures beyond brief nature;— i. e. the ancient statues of Venus and Minerva, which exceeded, in beauty of exact proportion, any living bodies, the work of brief nature; i. e. of hasty, unelaborate nature. He gives the same character of the beauty of the antique in Antony and Cleopatra: “O'er picturing that Venus where we see “The fancy outwork nature.” It appears, from a number of such passages as these, that our author was not ignorant of the fine arts. Warburton. I cannot help adding, that passages of this kind are but weak proofs that our poet was conversant with what we at present call the fine arts. The pantheons of his own age (several of which I have seen) afford a most minute and particular account of the different degrees of beauty imputed to the different deities; and as Shakspeare had at least an opportunity of reading Chapman's translation of Homer, the first part of which was published in 1596, with additions in 1598, and entire in 1611, he might have taken these ideas from thence, without being at all indebted to his own particular observation, or acquaintance with statuary and painting. It is surely more for his honour to remark how well he has employed the little knowledge he appears to have had of sculpture or mythology, than from his frequent allusions to them to suppose he was intimately acquainted with either. Steevens.

Note return to page 497 4&lblank; as Dian &lblank;] i. e. as if Dian. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; he utters them as he had eaten ballads.” Malone.

Note return to page 498 5&lblank; a carbuncle, &c.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “He has deserved it, were it carbuncled “Like Phæbus car.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 6&lblank; averring notes &lblank;] Such marks of the chamber and pictures, as averred or confirmed my report. Johnson.

Note return to page 500 7Some upright justicer!] I meet with this antiquated word in The Tragedy of Darius, 1603: “&lblank; this day, “Th' eternal justicer sees through the stars.” Again in Law Tricks, &c. 1608: “No: we must have an upright justicer.” Again in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. x. ch. liv: “Precelling his progenitors, a justicer upright. Steevens. Justicer is used by Shakspeare thrice in King Lear. Henley. The most ancient law books have justicers of the peace, as frequently as justices of the peace. Reed.

Note return to page 501 8&lblank; and she herself.] That is,—She was not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself. Johnson.

Note return to page 502 9&lblank; these staggers &lblank;] This wild and delirious perturbation. Staggers is the horse's apoplexy. Johnson.

Note return to page 503 1Think, that you are upon a rock;] In this speech or in the answer, there is little meaning. I suppose she would say,—Consider such another act as equally fatal to me with precipitation from a rock, and now let me see whether you will repeat it. Johnson. Perhaps only a stage direction is wanting to clear this passage from obscurity. Imogen first upbraids her husband for the violent treatment she had just experienced; then confident of the return of passion which she knew must succeed to the discovery of her innocence, the poet might have meant her to rush into his arms, and while she clung about him fast, to dare to throw her off a second time, lest that precipitation should prove as fatal to them both, as if the place where they stood had been a rock. To which he replies hang there, i. e. round my neck, till the frame that now supports you shall decay. Though the speeches that follow are necessary to the complete evolution of our author's plot, the interest of the drama may be said to conclude with the re-union of Posthumus and Imogen: &lblank; receptum Fœdus, et intrepidos nox conscia jungit amantes. In defence of this remark, I may subjoin, that both Aristarchus, and Aristophanes the grammarian, were of opinion that the Odyssey should have concluded when Ulysses and Penelope— &GRAs;&grs;&grp;&graa;&grs;&gri;&gro;&gri; &grl;&grea;&grk;&grt;&grr;&gro;&gri;&gro; &grp;&gra;&grl;&gra;&gri;&gro;&gruc; &grq;&gre;&grs;&grm;&grog;&grn; &grisa;&grk;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gro;. Steevens.

Note return to page 504 2&lblank; a dullard &lblank;] In this place means a person stupidly unconcerned. So, in Histriomastix, or the Player whipt, 1610: “What dullard! would'st thou doat in rusty art?” Again, Stanyhurst in his version of the first book of Virgil, 1582: “We Moores, lyke dullards, are not so wytles abyding.” Steevens.

Note return to page 505 4I am sorry for thee:] The old copy has— “I am sorrow for thee.” This obvious error of the press was corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 506 5By tasting of our wrath?] The consequence is taken for the whole action; by tasting is by forcing us to make thee to taste. Johnson.

Note return to page 507 6Assum'd this age:] I believe is the same as reached or attained his age. Steevens. As there is no reason to imagine that Belarius had assumed the appearance of being older than he really was, I suspect that instead of age, we should read gage; so that he may be understood to refer to the engagement, which he had entered into, a few lines before, in these words: “We will die all three: “But I will prove two of us are as good “As I have given out him.” Tyrwhitt. “Assum'd this age,” has a reference to the different appearance which Belarius now makes, in comparison with that when Cymbeline last saw him. Henley.

Note return to page 508 7Your pleasure was my mere offence, &c.] [Modern editors near.] I think this passage may better be read thus: “Your pleasure was my dear offence, my punishment “Itself was all my treason; that I suffer'd, “Was all the harm I did.” The offence which cost me so dear was only your caprice. My sufferings have been all my crime. Johnson. The reading of the old copies, though corrupt, is generally nearer to the truth than that of the later editions, which, for the most part, adopt the orthography of their respective ages. Dr. Johnson would read—dear offence. In the folio it is neere; which plainly points out to us the true reading—meere, as the word was then spelt. Tyrwhitt. My crime, my punishment, and all the treason that I committed, originated in and were founded on, your caprice only. Malone. I have adopted Mr. Tyrwhitt's very judicious emendation; which is also commended by Mr. Malone. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 8To inlay heaven with stars.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Take him and cut him into little stars, “And he will make the face of heaven so fine,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 510 9Thou weep'st and speak'st.] “Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy relation; and I have the less reason to be incredulous, because the actions which you have done within my knowledge are more incredible than the story which you relate.” The King reasons very justly. Johnson.

Note return to page 511 1&lblank; may you be,] The old copy reads—pray you be. Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 512 2When you were so indeed.] The folio gives: “When we were so indeed.” If this be right we must read: “Imo. I, you brothers. “Arv. When we were so, indeed.” Johnson. The emendation which has been adopted, was made by Mr. Rowe. I am not sure that it is necessary. Shakspeare in his licentious manner might have meant,—“when we did really stand in the relation of brother and sister to each other.” Malone.

Note return to page 513 3&lblank; fierce abridgement &lblank;] Fierce is vehement, rapid. Johnson. So, in Timon of Athens: “O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings!” Steevens. So also in Love's Labour Lost, vol. iv. p. 461. “With all the fierce endeavour of your wit.” Malone.

Note return to page 514 4&lblank; which Distinction should be rich in.] i. e. which ought to be rendered distinct by a liberal amplitude of narrative. Steevens.

Note return to page 515 5&lblank; and whither?] Old copy—whether. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald, who likewise reformed the pointing. Malone.

Note return to page 516 6And your three motives to the battle,] That is, though strangely expressed, the motives of you three for engaging in the batttle. So, in Romeo and Juliet, “both our remedies,” means the remedy for us both. M. Mason.

Note return to page 517 7Will serve our long intergatories.] So the first folio. Later editors have omitted our, for the sake of the metre, I suppose; but unnecessarily; as interrogatory is used by Shakspeare as a word of five syllables. See The Merchant of Venice near the end, where in the old edition it is written intergatory. Tyrwhitt. See also vol. x. p. 445. I believe this word was generally used as one of five syllables in our author's time. To the proofs already adduced may be added the following from Novella, by Brome, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; Then you must answer “To these intergatories.” Reed.

Note return to page 518 8&lblank; spritely shows &lblank;] Are groups of sprites, ghostly appearances. Steevens.

Note return to page 519 9Make no collection of it:] A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced from premises. So, in Sir John Davies's poem on The Immortality of the Soul: “When she, from sundry arts, one skill doth draw;   “Gath'ring from divers sights, one act of war; “From many cases like, one rule of law:   “These her collections, not the senses are.” Steevens. So, the Queen says to Hamlet: “&lblank; Her speech is nothing, “Yet the unshaped use of it doth move “The hearers to collection.” Whose containing means, the contents of which. M. Mason.

Note return to page 520 1My peace we will begin:] I think it better to read: “By peace we will begin.” Johnson. I have no doubt but Johnson's amendment is right. The Soothsayer says, that the label promised to Britain “peace and plenty.” To which Cymbeline replies: “We will begin with peace, to fulfil the prophecy.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 521 2Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers,) Have laid most heavy hand.] i. e. have laid most heavy hand on. Thus the old copy, and thus Shakspeare certainly wrote, many such elliptical expressions being found in his works. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, “And dotes on whom he looks [on], 'gainst law and duty.” Again, in Richard III.: “Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, “Which after hours give leisure to repent [of].” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; even as bad as those, “That vulgars give boldest titles [to].” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; The queen is spotless “In that which you accuse her [of].” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; whoever the king removes, “The cardinal instantly will find employment [for].” Again, in Othello: “What conjurations and what mighty magick “I won his daughter [with].” Mr. Pope, instead of the lines in the text, substituted— “On whom heaven's justice (both on her and hers) “Hath lay'd most heavy hand.” and this capricious alteration was adopted by all the subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 522 3&lblank; this yet scarce-cold battle,] Old copy—yet this, &c. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 523 4This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expence of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names, and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation. Johnson.

Note return to page 524 A book entitled “Westward for Smelts, or the Waterman's Fare of mad Merry Western Wenches, whose Tongues albeit, like Bell-clappers, they never leave ringing, yet their Tales are sweet, and will much content you: Written by kinde Kitt of Kingstone, —was published at London in 1603; and again, in 1620. To the second tale in that volume Shakspeare seems to have been indebted for two or three of the circumstances of Cymbeline. [See the Preliminary Remarks.] It is told by the Fishwife of Stand on the Green, and is as follows: “In the troublesome raigne of king Henry the Sixt, there dwelt in Waltam (not farre from London) a gentleman, which had to wife a creature most beautifull, so that in her time there were few found that matched her, none at all that excelled her; so excellent were the gifts that nature had bestowed on her. In body was she not onely so rare and unparaleled, but also in her gifts of minde, so that in this creature it seemed that Grace and Nature strove who should excell each other in their gifts toward her. The gentleman, her husband, thought himselfe so happy in his choise, that he believed, in choosing her, he had tooke holde of that blessing which Heaven proffereth every man once in his life. Long did not this opinion hold for currant; for in his height of love he began so to hate her, that he sought her death: the cause I will tell you. “Having businesse one day to London, he tooke his leave very kindly of his wife, and, accompanied with one man, he rode to London: being toward night, he tooke up his inne, and to be briefe, he went to supper amongst other gentlemen. Amongst other talke at table, one tooke occasion to speake of women, and what excellent creatures they were, so long as they continued loyal to man. To whom answered one, saying, This is truth, sir; so is the divell good so long as he doth no harme, which is meaner: his goodness and women's loyaltie will come both in one yeere; but it is so farre off, that none in this age shall live to see it. “This gentleman loving his wife dearely, and knowing her to be free from this uncivill generall taxation of women, in her behalf, said, Sir, you are too bitter against the sexe of women, and doe ill, for some one's sake that hath proved false to you, to taxe the generalitie of women-kinde with lightnesse; and but I would not be counted uncivill amongst these gentlemen, I would give you the reply that approved untruth deserveth:—you know my meaning, sir; construe my words as you please. Excuse me, gentlemen, if I be uncivil; I answere in the behalfe of one who is as free from disloyaltie as is the sunne from darknes, or the fire from cold. Pray, sir, said the other, since wee are opposite in opinions, let us rather talke like lawyers, that wee may be quickly friends againe, than like souldiers, which end their words with blowes. Perhaps this woman that you answere for, is chaste, but yet against her will; for many women are honest, 'cause they have not the meanes and opportunitie to be dishonest; so is a thief true in prison, because he hath nothing to steale. Had I but opportunitie and knew this same saint you so adore, I would pawne my life and whole estate, in a short while to bring you some manifest token of her disloyaltie. Sir, you are yong in the knowledge of women's slights; your want of experience makes you too credulous: therefore be not abused. This speech of his made the gentleman more out of patience than before, so that with much adoe he held himselfe from offering violence; but his anger being a little over, he said,—Sir, I doe verily beleeve that this vaine speech of yours proceedeth rather from a loose and ill-manner'd minde, than of any experience you have had of women's looseness: and since you think yourselfe so cunning in that divelish art of corrupting women's chastitie, I will lay down heere a hundred pounds, against which you shall lay fifty pounds, and before these gentlemen I promise you, if that within a month's space you bring me any token of this gentlewoman's disloyaltie, (for whose sake I have spoken in the behalfe of all women,) I doe freely give you leave to injoy the same; conditionally, you not performing it, I may enjoy your money. If that it be a match, speake, and I will acquaint you where she dwelleth: and besides I vow, as I am a gentleman, not to give her notice of any such intent that is toward her. Sir, quoth the man, your proffer is faire, and I accept the same. So the money was delivered in the oast of the house his hands, and the sitters by were witnesses; so drinking together like friends, they went every man to his chamber. The next day this man, having knowledge of the place, rid thither, leaving the gentleman at the inne, who being assured of his wife's chastitie, made no other account but to winne the wager; but it fell out otherwise: for the other vowed either by force, policie, or free will, to get some jewell or other toy from her, which was enough to persuade the gentleman that he was a cuckold, and win the wager he had laid. This villaine (for he deserved no better stile) lay at Waltam a whole day before he came at the sight of her; at last he espied her in the fields, to whom he went, and kissed her (a thing no modest woman can deny); after his salutation, he said, Gentlewoman, I pray, pardon me, if I have beene too bold: I was intreated by your husband, which is at London, (I riding this way) to come and see you; by me he hath sent his commends to you, with a kind intreat that you would not be discontented for his long absence, it being serious business that keepes him from your sight. The gentlewoman very modestlie bade him welcome, thanking him for his kindnes; withall telling him that her husband might command her patience so long as he pleased. Then intreated shee him to walke homeward, where she gave him such entertainment as was fit for a gentleman, and her husband's friend. “In the time of his abiding at her house, he oft would have singled her in private talke, but she perceiving the same, (knowing it to be a thing not fitting a modest woman,) would never come to his sight but at meales, and then were there so many at boord, that it was no time for to talke of love-matters: therefore he saw he must accomplish his desire some other way; which he did in this manner. He having laine two nights at her house, and perceiving her to be free from lustful desires, the third night he fained himself to bee something ill, and so went to bed timelier than he was wont. When he was alone in his chamber, he began to thinke with himselfe that it was now time to do that which he determined: for if he tarried any longer, they might have cause to think that he came for some ill intent, and waited opportunity to execute the same. With this resolution he went to her chambre, which was but a paire of staires from his, and finding the doore open, he went in, placing himself under the bed. Long had he not lyne there, but in came the gentlewoman with her maiden; who, having been at prayers with her houshold, was going to bed. She preparing herself to bedward, laid her head-tyre and those jewels she wore, on a little table thereby: at length he perceived her to put off a little crucifix of gold, which daily she wore next to her heart; this jewell he thought fittest for his turne, and therefore observed where she did lay the same. “At length the gentlewoman, being untyred her selfe, went to bed; her maid then bolting of the doore, took the candle, and went to bed in a withdrawing roome, onely separated with arras. This villaine lay still under the bed, listening if hee could heare that the gentlewoman slept: at length he might hear her draw her breath long; then thought he all sure, and like a cunning villaine rose without noise, going straight to the table, where finding of the crucifix, he lightly went to the doore, which he cunningly unbolted; all this performed he with so little noise, that neither the mistress nor the maid heard him. Having gotten into his chamber, he wished for day that he might carry this jewell to her husband, as signe of his wife's disloyaltie; but seeing his wishes but in vaine, he laide him downe to sleepe: happy had she beene, had his bed proved his grave. “In the morning so soon as the folkes were stirring, he rose and went to the horse-keeper, praying him to helpe him to his horse, telling him that he had tooke his leave of his mistris the last night. Mounting his horse, away rode he to London, leaving the gentlewoman in bed; who, when she rose, attiring herself hastily, ('cause one tarried to speak with her,) missed not her crucifix. So, passed she the time away, as she was wont other dayes to doe, no whit troubled in minde, though much sorrow was toward her; onely she seemed a little discontented that her ghest went away so unmannerly, she using him so kindely. So leaving her, I will speake of him, who the next morning was betimes at London; and coming to the inne, he asked for the gentleman who was then in bed, but he quickly came downe to him; who seeing him returned so suddenly, hee thought hee came to have leave to release himselfe of his wager; but this chanced otherwise, for having saluted him, he said in this manner:—Sir, did not I tell you that you were too young in experience of woman's subtilties, and that no woman was longer good than till she had cause, or time to do ill? This you believed not; and thought it a thing so unlikely, that you have given me a hundred pounds for the knowledge of it. In brief, know, your wife is a woman, and therefore a wanton, a changeling:—to confirm that I speake, see heere (shewing him the crucifix;) know you this? If this be not sufficient proofe, I will fetch you more. “At the sight of this, his bloud left his face, running to comfort his faint heart, which was ready to breake at the sight of this crucifix, which he knew she alwayes wore next her heart; and therefore he must (as he thought) goe something neere, which stole so private a jewell. But remembering himselfe, he cheeres his spirits, seeing that was sufficient proofe, and he had wonne the wager, which he commanded should be given to him. Thus was the poore gentleman abused, who went into his chamber and being weary of this world, (seeing where he had put his only trust he was deceived,) he was minded to fall upon his sword, and so end all his miseries at once: but his better genius persuaded him contrary, and not so, by laying violent hand on himselfe, to leap into the divel's mouth. Thus being in many mindes, but resolving no one thing, at last he concluded to punish her with death, which had deceived his trust, and himselfe utterly to forsake his house and lands, and follow the fortunes of king Henry. To this intent, he called his man, to whom he said,—George, thou knowest I have ever held thee deare, making more account of thee than thy other fellowes; and thou hast often told me that thou diddest owe thy life to me, which at any time thou wouldest be ready to render up to doe me good. True, sir, answered his man, I said no more then, than I will now at any time, whensoever you please, performe. I believe thee, George, replyed he; but there is no such need: I onely would have thee do a thing for me, in which is no great danger; yet the profit which thou shalt have thereby shall amount to my wealth. For the love that thou bearest to me, and for thy own good, wilt thou do this? Sir, answered George, more for your love than any reward, I will doe it, (and yet money makes men valiant,) pray tell me what it is? George, said his master, this it is; thou must goe home, praying thy mistress to meet me halfe the way to London; but having her by the way, in some private place kill her; I mean as I speake, kill her, I say: this is my command, which thou hast promised to performe; which if thou performest not, I vow to kill thee the next time thou comest in my sight. Now for thy reward, it shall be this.—Take my ring, and when thou hast done my command, by virtue of it, doe thou assume my place till my returne, at which time thou shalt know what my reward is; till then govern my whole estate, and for thy mistress absence and my own, make what excuse thou please; so be gone. Well, sir, said George, since it is your will, though unwilling I am to do it, yet I will perform it. So went he his way toward Waltam; and his master presently rid to the court, where hee abode with king Henry, who a little before was inlarged by the earl of Warwicke, and placed in the throne again. “George being come to Waltam, did his duty to his mistris, who wondered to see him, and not her husband, for whom she demanded of George; he answered her, that he was at Enfield, and did request her to meet him there. To which shee willingly agreed, and presently rode with him toward Enfield. At length, they being come into a by-way, George began to speake to her in this manner: Mistris, I pray you tell me, what that wife deserves, who through some lewd behaviour of hers hath made her husband to neglect his estates, and meanes of life, seeking by all meanes to dye, that he might be free from the shame which her wickednesse hath purchased him? Why George, quoth shee, hast thou met with some such creature? Be it whomsoever, might I be her judge, I thinke her worthy of death. How thinkest thou? 'Faith mistris, said he I think so to, and am so fully persuaded that her offence deserves that punishment, that I purpose to be executioner to such a one myselfe: Mistris, you are this woman; you have so offended my master, (you know best, how, yourselfe,) that he hath left his house, vowing never to see the same till you be dead, and I am the man appointed by him to kill you. Therefore those words which you mean to utter, speake them presently, for I cannot stay. Poor gentlewoman, at the report of these unkinde wordes (ill deserved at her hands) she looked as one dead, and uttering aboundance of teares, she at last spake these words: And can it be, that my kindness and loving obedience hath merited no other reward at his hands than death? It cannot be. I know thou only tryest me, how patiently I would endure such an unjust command. I'le tell thee heere, thus with body prostrate on the earth, and hands lift up to heaven, I would pray for his preservation; those should be my worst words: for death's fearful visage shewes pleasant to that soule that is innocent. Why then prepare yourselfe, said George, for by heaven I doe not jest. With that she prayed him stay, saying,—And is it so? Then what should I desire to live, having lost his favour (and without offence) whom I so dearly loved, and in whose sight my happinesse did consist? Come, let me die. Yet George, let me have so much favour at thy hands, as to commend me in these few words to him: Tell him, my death I willingly imbrace, for I have owed him my life (yet no otherwise but by a wife's obedience) ever since I called him husband; but that I am guilty of the least fault toward him, I utterly deny; and doe, at this hour of my death, desire that Heaven would pour down vengeance upon me, if ever I offended him in thought. Intreat him that he would not speake aught that were ill on mee, when I am dead, for in good troth I have deserved none. 'Pray Heaven blesse him; I am prepared now, strike pr'ythee home, and kill me and my griefes at once. “George, seeing this, could not with-hold himselfe from shedding teares, and with pitie he let fall his sword, saying,—Mistris, that I have used you so roughly, pray pardon me, for I was commanded so by my master, who hath vowed, if I let you live, to kill me. But I being perswaded that you are innocent, I will rather undergoe the danger of his wrath than to staine my hands with the bloud of your cleere and spotlesse breast: yet let me intreat you so much, that you would not come in his sight, lest in his rage he turne your butcher, but live in some disguise, till time have opened the cause of his mistrust, and shewed you guiltless; which, I hope, will not be long. “To this she willingly granted, being loth to die causelesse, and thanked him for his kindnesse; so parted they both, having teares in their eyes. George went home, where he shewed his master's ring, for the government of the house till his master and mistris returne, which he said lived a while at London, 'cause the time was so troublesome, and that was a place where they were more secure than in the country. This his fellowes believed, and were obedient to his will; amongst whom he used himselfe so kindely that he had all their loves. This poore gentlewoman (mistris of the house) in short time got man's apparel for her disguise; so wandered she up and downe the countrey, for she could get no service, because the time was so dangerous that no man knew whom he might trust: onely she maintained herselfe with the price of those jewels which she had, all which she sold. At the last, being quite out of money, and having nothing left (which she could well spare) to make money of, she resolved rather to starve than so much to debase herselfe to become a beggar. With this resolution she went to a solitary place beside Yorke, where she lived the space of two dayes on hearbs, and such things as she could there finde. “In this time it chanced that king Edward, being come out of France, and lying thereabout with the small forces hee had, came that way with some two or three noblemen, with an intent to discover if any ambushes were laid to take them at an advantage. He seeing there this gentlewoman, whom he supposed to be a boy, asked her what she was, and what she made there in that private place? To whom she very wisely and modestly withall, answered, that she was a poore boy, whose bringing up had bin better than her outward parts then shewed, but at that time she was both friendlesse and comfortlesse, by reason of the late warre. He beeing moved to see one so well featured as she was, to want, entertained her for one of his pages: to whom she showed herself so dutiful and loving, that in short time she had his love above all her fellows. Still followed she the fortunes of K. Edward, hoping at last (as not long after it did fall out) to be reconciled to her husband. “After the battel at Barnet, where K. Edward got the best, she going up and down amongst the slaine men, to know whether her husband, which was on K. Henrie's side, was dead or escaped, happened to see the other who had been her ghest, lying there for dead. She remembring him, and thinking him to be one whom her husband loved, went to him, and finding him not dead, she caused one to helpe her with him to a house there-by; where opening his brest to dresse his wounds, she espied her crucifix, at sight of which her heart was joyfull, hoping by this to find him that was the originall of her disgrace: for she remembring herselfe, found that she had lost that crucifix ever since that morning he departed from her house so suddenly. But saying nothing of it at that time, she caused him to be carefully looked unto, and brought up to London after her, whither she went with the king, carrying the crucifix with her. “On a time, when he was a little recovered, she went to him, giving him the crucifix which she had taken from about his necke; to whom he said, ‘Good gentle youth, keep the same: for now in my misery of sicknes, when the sight of that picture should be most comfortable, it is to me most uncomfortable; and breedeth such horrour in my conscience, when I think how wrongfully I got the same, that long as I see it I shall never be at rest.’ Now knew she that he was the man that caused the separation 'twixt her husband and her selfe; yet said she nothing, using him as respectively as she had before: onely she caused the man in whose house he lay, to remember the words he had spoken concerning the crucifix. Not long after, she being alone, attending on the king, beseeched his grace to do her justice on a villain that had bin the cause of all the misery she had suffered. He loving her above all his other pages, most dearly, said, ‘Edmund (for so had she named herself,) thou shalt have what right thou wilt on thy enemy; cause him to be sent for, and I will be thy judge my selfe.’ She being glad of this, with the king's authority sent for her husband, whom she heard was one of the prisoners that was taken at the battle of Barnet; she appointing the other, now now recovered, to be at the court at the same time. They being both come, but not one seeing of the other, the king sent for the wounded man into the presence: before whom the page asked him how he came by the crucifix. He fearing that his villainy would come forth, denyed the words he had said before his oast, affirming he bought it. With that, she called in the oast of the house where he lay, bidding him boldly speake what he had heard this man say concerning the crucifix. The oast then told the king, that in the presence of this page he heard him intreat that the crucifix might be taken from his sight, for it did wound his conscience, to thinke how wrongfully he had gotten the same. These words did the page averre; yet he utterly denyed the same, affirming that he bought it, and if that he did speake such words in his sicknesse, they proceeded from the lightnesse of his braine, and were untruthes. “She seeing this villain's impudency, sent for her husband in, to whom she shewed the crucifix, saying, Sir, doe you know this? Yes, answered hee, but would God I ne're had known the owner of it! It was my wife's, a woman virtuous till the divell (speaking to the other) did corrupt her purity,—who brought me this crucifix as a token of her inconstancie. “With that the king said, Sirra, now are you found to be a knave. Did you not, even now, affirme you bought it? To whom he answered with fearfull countenance, And it like your grace, I said so to preserve this gentleman's honour, and his wife's, which by my telling of the truth would have been much indamaged; for indeed she, being a secret friend of mine, gave me this as a testimony of her love. “The gentlewoman, not being able longer to cover her selfe in that disguise, said. ‘And it like your majesty, give mee leave to speake, and you shall see me make this villain confesse how he hath abused that good gentleman.’ The king having given her leave, she said, ‘First, sir, you confessed before your oast and my selfe, that you had wrongfully got this jewell; then before his majestie you affirmed you bought it; so denying your former words: Now you have denyed that which you so boldly affirmed before, and said it was this gentleman's wife's gift. With his majestie's leave I say, thou art a villaine, and this is likewise false.’ With that she discovered herselfe to be a woman, saying —‘Hadst thou, villaine, ever any strumpet's favour at my hands? Did I, for any sinfull pleasure I received from thee, bestow this on thee! Speake, and if thou have any goodness left in thee, speak the truth.’ “With that, he being daunted at her sudden sight, fell on his knees before the king, beseeching his grace to be mercifull unto him for he had wronged that gentlewoman. Therewith told he the king of the match betweene the gentleman and him selfe, and how he stole the crucifix from her, and by that meanes persuaded her husband that she was a whore. The king wondered how he durst, knowing God to be just, commit so great a villainy; but much more admired he to see his page to turn a gentlewoman. But ceasing to admire, he said—‘Sir, (speaking to her husband,) you did the part of an unwise man to lay so foolish a wager, for which offence the remembrance of your folly is punishment inough; but seeing it concerns me not, your wife shall be your judge. With that Mrs. Dorrill, thanking his majestie, went to her husband, saying, ‘Sir, all my anger to you I lay down with this kisse.’ He wondering all this while to see this strange and unlooked-for change, wept for joy, desiring her to tell him how she was preserved; wherein she satisfied him at full. The king was likewise glad that he had preserved this gentlewoman from wilfull famine, and gave judgment on the other in this manner:—That he should restore the money treble which he had wrongfully got from him; and so was to have a yeere's imprisonment. So this gentleman and his wife, went with the king's leave, lovingly home, where they were kindely welcomed by George, to whom for recompence he gave the money which he received: so lived they ever after in great content. Malone.

Note return to page 525 10213001See p. 31, 32, n. 7. “&lblank; If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excell'd many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.”] The old copy reads— I could not believe she excell'd many. Dr. Warburton very properly asks, “What, if she did really excell others, could he not believe that she did excell them?” To restore therefore the passage to sense, he omits the word not, and reads—“I could believe she excell'd many,”—which undoubtedly affords a clear sense. “The old reading, (says Mr. Steevens,) may very well stand. If, says Iachimo, your mistress went before some others I have seen, only in the same degree your diamond out-lustres many I have likewise seen, I should not admit on that account that she excelled many; but I ought not to make myself the judge of who is the fairest lady, or which is the brightest diamond, till I have beheld the finest of either kind which nature has hitherto produced.” To this paraphrase I make the same objection that I have done to many others in revising these plays; namely, that a meaning is extracted from the words that they in no sort warrant. In the first place Mr. S. understands the word as to mean only as, or as little as; and assumes that Iachimo means, not merely to deny the super-eminent and unparallel'd value of the diamond of Posthumus, but greatly to depretiate it; though both the context, and the words —went before, most precious, and out-lustres, must present to every reader a meaning directly opposite. 2dly. According to this interpretation, the adversative particle but is used without any propriety; as will appear at once by shortening Mr. Steevens's paraphrase, and adding a few words that are necessary to make the deduction consequential: “If your mistress went before others I have seen, only in the same degree your diamond out-lustres many I have likewise seen, I should not admit on that account that she excelled many, [for your diamond is an ordinary stone, and does not excell many:] But I have not seen the most precious diamond in the world, nor you the most beautiful lady: and therefore I can not admit she excells all.” Here after asserting that “he could not admit she excelled many,” he is made to add, by way of qualification, and in opposition to what he has already said, that “inasmuch as he has not seen all the fine women and fine diamonds in the world, he cannot admit that she excells all.” If he had admitted that she excelled many, this conclusion would be consistent and intelligible; but not admitting that position, as he is thus made to do, it is inconsequential, if not absurd. I agree therefore entirely with Dr. Warburton and Dr. Johnson in thinking that the passage as it stands in the old copy, is nonsense, and that some emendation is necessary. Dr. Warburton, as I have already observed, amended the passage by omitting the word not; but of all the modes of emendation this is the most exceptionable. I have often had occasion to observe that one of the most frequent errours of the press is omission, and consequently the least exceptionable of all emendations is the insertion of a word that appears from the context, or from the metre, to have been omitted. In the first folio edition of Love's Labour's Lost, we find— “O, that your face were full of oes &lblank;.” Instead of the true reading, which is furnished by the quarto, 1598: “O, that your face were not so full of oes &lblank;.” Again, in Timon of Athens, Act V. edit. 1623: “&lblank; Nothing can you steal “But thieves do lose it. Steal less; for this, &lblank;” All the modern editions here rightly read—“Steal not less; for this.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, folio, 1632: “&lblank; they stand so much on the new form, that they can sit at ease on the old bench:” instead of “&lblank; they can not sit,” &c. Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, folio, 1623, p. 55: “&lblank; good gentlemen, let him strike the old woman;” instead of “&lblank; let him not strike the old woman.” Again, in King Lear, 1623, folio: “&lblank; the observation we have made of it hath been little;” instead of the true reading which is found in the quarto,—“hath not been little.” I could easily add twenty other instances of the same kind. In the passage before us, I am persuaded that either the word but was omitted after not, by the carelessness of the compositor or transcriber, or, that not was printed instead of but: a mistake that has often happened in these plays. See vol. vi. p. 379. Of the latter opinion is Mr. Heath, who proposes to read, “I could but believe,” and this affords nearly the same meaning as the reading now adopted. I rather incline to the emendation which I proposed some years ago, and which is now placed in the text, because the adversative particle in the next clause of the sentence is thus more fully opposed to what precedes; and thus the reasoning is clear, exact, and consequential. “If, says Iachimo, she surpassed other women that I have seen in the same proportion that your diamond out-lustres many diamonds that I have beheld, I could not but acknowledge that she excelled many women; but I have not seen the most valuable diamond in the world, nor you the most beautiful woman: and therefore I cannot admit she excells all.” It is urged, that “it was the business of Iachimo on this occasion to appear an infidel to beauty, in order to spirit Posthumus to lay the wager.” He is so far an infidel as not to allow Imogen transcendent beauty, surpassing the beauty of all womankind. It was by no means necessary, in order to excite the adoring Posthumus to a wager, to deny that she possessed any beauty whatsoever. For the length of this note I shall make no apology. Whenever much has been already said by ingenious men on a controverted passage, in which emendation is absolutely necessary, every objection that can be made to the reading adopted should, if possible, be obviated. No one can be more an enemy to long notes, or unnecessary emendations, than the present editor. Malone.

Note return to page 526 10213002 See page 169, note 8. A SONG, SUNG BY GUIDERIUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. “To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,   “Soft maids and village hinds shall bring “Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,   “And rifle all the breathing spring. “No wailing ghost shall dare appear   “To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; “But shepherd lads assemble here,   “And melting virgins own their love. “No wither'd witch shall here be seen,   “No goblins lead their nightly crew: “The female fays shall haunt the green,   “And dress thy grave with pearly dew. “The red-breast oft at evening hours   “Shall kindly lend his little aid, “With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,   “To deck the ground where thou art laid. “When howling winds, and beating rain,   “In tempests shake the sylvan cell; “Or midst the chace on every plain;   “The tender thought on thee shall dwell. “Each lonely scene shall thee restore;   “For thee the tear be duly shed: “Belov'd, till life could charm no more;   “And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.”

Note return to page 527 1Phrynia,] (Or as this name should have been written by Shakspeare, Phryne,) was an Athenian courtezan so exquisitely beautiful, that when her judges were proceeding to condemn her for numerous and enormous offences, a sight of her bosom (which, as we learn from Quintillian, had been artfully denuded by her advocate,) disarmed the court of its severity, and secured her life from the sentence of the law. Steevens.

Note return to page 528 2&lblank; Jeweller, Merchant,] In the old copy: “Enter, &c. Merchant, and Mercer, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 529 3Poet. Good day sir.] It would be less abrupt to begin the play thus: “Poet. Good day. “Pain. Good day, sir: I am glad you're well.” Farmer. The present deficiency in the metre also pleads strongly in behalf of the supplemental words proposed by Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 530 4But what particular rarity? &c.] I cannot but think that this passage is at present in confusion. The poet asks a question, and stays not for an answer, nor has his question any apparent drift or consequence. I would range the passage thus: “Poet. Ay, that's well known. “But what particular rarity? what so strange, “That manifold record not matches? “Pain. See! “Poet. Magic of bounty!” &c. It may not be improperly observed here, that as there is only one copy of this play, no help can be had from collation, and more liberty must be allowed to conjecture. Johnson. Johnson supposes that there is some error in this passage, because the Poet asks a question, and stays not for an answer; and therefore suggests a new arrangement of it. But there is nothing more common in real life than questions asked in that manner. And with respect to his proposed arrangement, I can by no means approve of it; for as the Poet and the Painter are going to pay their court to Timon, it would be strange if the latter should point out to the former, as a particular rarity, which manifold record could not match, a merchant and a jeweller, who came there on the same errand. M. Mason. The Poet is led by what the Painter has said, to ask whether any thing very strange and unparalleled had lately happened, without any expectation that any such had happened;—and is prevented from waiting for an answer by observing so many conjured by Timon's bounty to attend. “See, Magick of bounty!” &c. This surely is very natural. Malone.

Note return to page 531 5&lblank; breath'd, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness:] Breathed is inured by constant practice; so trained as not to be wearied. To breathe a horse, is to exercise him for the course. Johnson. So in Hamlet: “It is the breathing time of day with me.” Steevens. “&lblank; continuate &lblank;” This word is used by many ancient English writers. Thus, by Chapman, in his version of the fourth book of the Odyssey: “Her handmaids join'd in a continuate yell.” Again, in the tenth book: “&lblank; environ'd round “With one continuate rock: &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 532 6He passes.] i. e. exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. So in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Why this passes, master Ford.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 7He passes.— I have a jewel here.] The syllable wanting in this line might be restored by reading— “He passes.—Look, I have a jewel here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 534 8&lblank; touch the estimate:] Come up to the price. Johnson.

Note return to page 535 9When we for recompense, &c.] We must here suppose the poet busy in reading in his own work; and that these three lines are the introduction of the poem addressed to Timon, which he afterwards gives the Painter an account of. Warburton.

Note return to page 536 1&lblank; which oozes &lblank;] The folio copy reads—which uses. The modern editors have given it—which issues. Johnson. Gum and issues were inserted by Mr. Pope; oozes by Dr. Johnson. Malone. The two oldest copies read— “Our poesie is as a gowne which uses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 537 2&lblank; and like a current, flies Each bound it chafes.] Thus the folio reads, and rightly. In later editions—chases. Warburton. This speech of the Poet is very obscure. He seems to boast the copiousness and facility of his vein, by declaring that verses drop from a poet as gums from odoriferous trees, and that his flame kindles itself without the violence necessary to elicit sparkles from the flint. What follows next? that it like a current flies each bound it chafes. This may mean that it expands itself notwithstanding al obstructions: but the images in the comparison are so ill sorted and the effect so obscurely expressed, that I cannot but think something omitted that connected the last sentence with the former. It is well known that the players often shorten speeches to quicken the representation: and it may be suspected, that they sometimes performed their amputations with more haste than judgment. Johnson. Perhaps the sense is, that having touched on one subject, it flies off in quest of another. The old copy seems to read— “Each bound it chases.” The letters f and s [Subnote: In the source text a long s appears here.] are not always to be distinguished from each other, especially when the types have been much worn, as in the first folio. If chases be the true reading, it is best explained by the “&lblank; se sequiturque fugitque &lblank;” of the Roman poet. Somewhat similar occurs in The Tempest: “Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him “When he pursues.” Steevens. The obscurity of this passage arises merely from the mistake of the editors, who have joined in one, what was intended by Shakspeare as two distinct sentences.—It should be pointed thus, and then the sense will be evident: “&lblank; our gentle flame “Provokes itself, and like the current flies; “Each bound it chafes.” Our gentle flame animates itself; it flies like a current; and every obstacle serves but to increase its force. M. Mason. In Julius Cæsar we have— “The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores.—” Again in The Legend of Pierce Gaveston, by Michael Drayton, 1594: “Like as the ocean, chafing with his bounds, “With raging billowes flies against the rocks, “And to the shore sends forth his hideous sounds,” &c. Malone. This jumble of incongruous images, seems to have been designed, and put into the mouth of the Poetaster, that the reader might appreciate his talents: his language therefore should not be considered in the abstract. Henley.

Note return to page 538 3&lblank; and when comes your book forth?] And was supplied by Sir T. Hanmer, to perfect the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 539 4Upon the heels, &c.] As soon as my book has been presented to lord Timon. Johnson.

Note return to page 540 5&lblank; presentment,] The patrons of Shakspeare's age do not appear to have been all Timons. “I did determine not to have dedicated my play to any body, because forty shillings I care not for, and above, few or none will bestow on these matters.” Preface to A Woman is a Weathercock, by N. Field, 1612. Steevens. It should, however, be remembered, that forty shillings at that time were equal to at least six, perhaps eight, pounds at this day. Malone.

Note return to page 541 6'Tis a good piece.] As the metre is here defective, it is not improbable that our author originally wrote— “'Tis a good piece, indeed.” So, in The Winter's Tale: “'Tis grace indeed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 542 7&lblank; this comes off well and excellent.] The meaning is, the figure rises well from the canvas. C'est bien relevé. Johnson. What is meant by this term of applause I do not exactly know. It occurs again in The Widow, by Ben Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton: “It comes off very fair yet.” Again, in A Trick to Catch the Old One, 1608: “Put a good tale in his ear, so that it comes off cleanly, and there's a horse and man for us. I warrant thee.” Again, in the first part of Marston's Antonio and Mellida: “Fla. Faith, the song will seem to come off hardly. “Catz. Troth, not a whit, if you seem to come off quickly.” Steevens. The same expression occurs in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. I.: “Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;” and in Hamlet, Act III. Sc. II.: “Now this, overdone, has come tardy off.” In these instances, and in those quoted by Mr. S. it seems to mean, what we now call getting through with a thing. We still say a man comes off with credit, when he acquits himself well; and such appears to be the Poet's meaning here. Blakeway.

Note return to page 543 8&lblank; How this grace Speaks his own standing!] This relates to the attitude of the figure, and means that it stands judiciously on its own centre. And not only so, but that it has a graceful standing likewise. Of which the poet in Hamlet, speaking of another picture, says: “A station, like the herald, Mercury, “New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.” which lines Milton seems to have had in view, where he says of Raphael: “At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise “He lights, and to his proper shape returns. “&lblank; Like Maia's son he stood.” Warburton. This sentence seems to be obscure, and, however explained, not very forcible. “This grace speaks his own standing,” is only, “The gracefulness of this figure shows how it stands.” I am inclined to think something corrupted. It would be more natural and clear thus: “&lblank; How this standing “Speaks his own graces!”— “How this posture displays its own gracefulness.” But I will indulge conjecture further, and propose to read: “&lblank; How this grace “Speaks understanding! what a mental power “This eye shoots forth!” Johnson. The passage, to my apprehension at least, speaks its own meaning, which is, how the graceful attitude of this figure proclaims that it stands firm on its centre, or gives evidence in favour of its own fixure. Grace is introduced as bearing witness to propriety. A similar expression occurs in Cymbeline, Act II. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; never saw I figures “So likely to report themselves.” Steevens. I cannot reconcile myself to Johnson's or Warburton's explanations of this passage, which are such as the words cannot possibly imply. I am rather inclined to suppose, that the figure alluded to was a representation of one of the Graces, and, as they are always supposed to be females, should read the passage thus: “&lblank; How this Grace (with a capital G) “Speaks its own standing &lblank;!” This slight alteration removes every difficulty, for Steevens's explanation of the latter words is clearly right; and there is surely but little difference between its and his in the trace of the letters. This amendment is strongly supported by the pronoun this, prefixed to the word Grace, as it proves that what the Poet pointed out, was some real object, not merely an abstract idea. M. Mason.

Note return to page 544 9&lblank; to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.] The figure, though dumb, seems to have a capacity of speech. The allusion is to the puppet-shows, or motions, as they were termed in our author's time. The person who spoke for the puppets was called an interpreter. See a note on Hamlet, Act III. Sc. V. Malone. Rather—one might venture to supply words to such intelligible action. Such significant gesture ascertains the sentiments that should accompany it. Steevens. So, in Cymbeline, p. 84: “&lblank; never saw I pictures “So likely to report themselves.” See Johnson's note on that passage. Boswell.

Note return to page 545 1&lblank; artificial strife &lblank;] Strife, for action or motion. Warburton. Strife is either the contest of art with nature: Hic ille est Raphael, timuit, quo sospite vinci Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori. or it is the contrast of forms or opposition of colours. Johnson. So, under the print of Noah Bridges, by Faithorne: “Faithorne, with nature at a noble strife, “Hath paid the author a great share of life,” &c. Steevens. And Ben Jonson, on the head of Shakspeare by Droeshout: “This figure which thou here seest put, “It was for gentle Shakspeare cut: “Wherein the graver had a strife “With nature, to out-doo the life.” Henley. That artificial strife means, as Dr. Johnson has explained it, ‘the contest of art with nature,’ and not the ‘contrast of forms or opposition of colours,’ may appear from our author's Venus and Adonis, where the same thought is more clearly expressed: “Look, when a painter would surpass the life, “In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, “His art with nature's workmanship at strife, “As if the dead the living should exceed; “So did this horse excell,” &c. In Drayton's Mortimeriados, printed I believe in 1596, (afterwards entitled The Barons' Wars,) there are two lines nearly resembling these: “Done for the last with such exceeding life, “As art therein with nature were at strife.” Malone.

Note return to page 546 2&lblank; Happy men!] Mr. Theobald reads—happy man; and certainly the emendation is sufficiently plausible, though the old reading may well stand. Malone. The text is right. The Poet envies or admires the felicity of the senators in being Timon's friends, and familiarly admitted to his table, to partake of his good cheer, and experience the effects of his bounty. Ritson.

Note return to page 547 3&lblank; this confluence, this great flood of visitors.] Mane salutantûm totis vomit ædibus undam. Johnson.

Note return to page 548 4&lblank; this beneath world &lblank;] So, in Measure for Measure, we have—“This under generation;” and in King Richard II.: “&lblank; the lower world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 549 5Halts not particularly,] My design does not stop at any single character. Johnson.

Note return to page 550 6In a wide sea of wax:] Anciently they wrote upon waxen tables with an iron style. Hanmer. I once thought with Sir T. Hanmer, that this was only an allusion to the Roman practice of writing with a style on waxen tablets; but it appears that the same custom prevailed in England about the year 1395, and might have been heard of by Shakspeare. It seems also to be pointed out by implication in many of our old collegiate establishments. See Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 151. Steevens. Mr. Astle observes in his very ingenious work On the Origin and Progress of Writing, quarto, 1784, that “the practice of writing on table-books covered with wax was not entirely laid aside till the commencement of the fourteenth century.” As Shakspeare, I believe, was not a very profound English antiquary, it is surely improbable that he should have had any knowledge of a practice which had been disused for more than two centuries before he was born. The Roman practice he might have learned from Golding's translation of the ninth book of Ovid's Metamorphoses: “Her right hand holds the pen, her left doth hold the emptie waxe,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 551 7&lblank; no levell'd malice, &c.] To level is to aim, to point the shot at a mark. Shakspeare's meaning is, my poem is not a satire written with any particular view, or levelled at any single person; I fly like an eagle into the general expanse of life, and leave not, by any private mischief, the trace of my passage. Johnson.

Note return to page 552 8I'll unbolt &lblank;] I'll open, I'll explain. Johnson.

Note return to page 553 9&lblank; glib and slippery creatures,] Sir T. Hanmer, and Dr. Warburton after him, read—natures. Slippery is smooth, unresisting. Johnson.

Note return to page 554 1Subdues &lblank; All sorts of hearts;] So, in Othello: “My heart's subdued “Even to the very quality of my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 555 2&lblank; glass-fac'd flatterer &lblank;] That shows in his look, as by reflection, the looks of his patron. Johnson.

Note return to page 556 3&lblank; even he drops down, &c.] Either Shakspeare meant to put a falsehood into the mouth of his poet, or had not yet thoroughly planned the character of Apemantus; for in the ensuing scenes, his behaviour is as cynical to Timon as to his followers. Steevens. The Poet, seeing that Apemantus paid frequent visits to Timon, naturally concluded that he was equally courteous with his other guests. Ritson.

Note return to page 557 4I saw them speak together.] The word—together, which only serves to interrupt the measure, is, I believe, an interpolation, being occasionally omitted by our author, as unnecessary to sense, on similar occasions. Thus, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; Bring me to hear them speak;” i. e. to speak together, to converse. Again, in another of our author's plays: “When spoke you last?” Nor is the same phraseology, at this hour, out of use. Steevens.

Note return to page 558 5&lblank; rank'd with all deserts,] Cover'd with ranks of all kinds of men. Johnson.

Note return to page 559 6To propagate their states:] To advance or improve their various conditions of life. Johnson.

Note return to page 560 7Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd:— &lblank; on this sovereign lady, &c.] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; bountiful fortune, “Now my dear lady,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 561 8&lblank; conceiv'd to scope.] Properly imagined, appositely, to the purpose. Johnson.

Note return to page 562 9In our condition.] Condition, for art. Warburton.

Note return to page 563 1Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,] The sense is obvious, and means, in general flattering him. The particular kind of flattery may be collected from the circumstance of its being offered up in whispers: which shows it was the calumniating those whom Timon hated or envied, or whose vices were opposite to his own. This offering up, to the person flattered, the murdered reputation of others, Shakspeare, with the utmost beauty of thought and expression, calls sacrificial whisperings, alluding to the victims offered up to idols. Warburton. Whisperings attended with such respect and veneration as accompany sacrifices to the gods. Such, I suppose, is the meaning. Malone. By sacrificial whisperings, I should simply understand whisperings of officious fervility, the incense of the worshipping parasite to the patron as to a god. These whisperings might probably immolate reputations for the most part, but I should not reduce the epithet in question to that notion here. Mr. Gray has excellently expressed in his Elegy these sacrificial offerings to the great from the poetick tribe: “To heap the shine of luxury and pride “With incense kindled at the muse's flame.” Wakefield.

Note return to page 564 2—Through him Drink the free air.] That is, catch his breath in affected fondness. Johnson. A similar phrase occurs in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour: “By this air, the most divine tobacco I ever drank!” To drink, in both these instances, signifies to inhale. Steevens. Dr. Johnson's explanation appears to me highly unnatural and unsatisfactory. “To drink the air,” like the haustos ætherios of Virgil, is merely a poetical phrase for draw the air, or breathe. To “drink the free air,” therefore, “through another,” is to breathe freely at his will only; so as to depend on him for the privilege of life: not even to breathe freely without his permission. Wakefield. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “His nostrils drink the air.” Again, in The Tempest: “I drink the air before me.” Malone.

Note return to page 565 3&lblank; let him slip down,] The old copy reads: “&lblank; let him sit down.” The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 566 4A thousand moral paintings I can show,] Shakspeare seems to intend in this dialogue to express some competition between the two great arts of imitation. Whatever the poet declares himself to have shown, the painter thinks he could have shown better. Johnson.

Note return to page 567 5&lblank; these quick blows of fortune's &lblank;] This was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time, as I have observed in a note on King John, Act II. Sc. I. The modern editors read, more elegantly,—of fortune. The alteration was first made in the second folio, from ignorance of Shakspeare's diction. Malone. Though I cannot impute such a correction to the ignorance of the person who made it, I can easily suppose what is here styled the phraseology of Shakspeare, to be only the mistake of a vulgar transcriber or printer. Had our author been constant in his use of this mode of speech (which is not the case) the propriety of Mr. Malone's remark would have been readily admitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 568 6&lblank; mean eyes &lblank;] i. e. inferior spectators. So, in Wotton's Letter to Bacon, dated March the last, 1613: “Before their majesties, and almost as many other meaner eyes,” &c. Tollet.

Note return to page 569 7Imprison'd is he, say you?] Here we have another interpolation destructive to the metre. Omitting—is he, we ought to read: “Imprison'd, say you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 570 8&lblank; which failing to him,] Thus the second folio. The first omits—to him, and consequently mutilates the verse. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 9Periods his comfort.] To period is, perhaps, a verb of Shakspeare's introduction into the English language. I find it, however, used by Heywood, after him, in A Maidenhead Well Lost, 1634: “How easy could I period all my care.” Again, in The Country Girl, by T. B. 1647: “To period our vain-grievings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 572 1&lblank; must need me.] i. e. when he is compelled to have need of my assistance; or, as Mr. Malone has more happily explained the phrase,—“cannot but want my assistance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 573 2'Tis not enough, &c.] This thought is better expressed by Dr. Madden in his Elegy on Archbishop Boulter: “More than they ask'd he gave; and deem'd it mean “Only to help the poor—to beg again.” Johnson. It has been said that Dr. Johnson was paid ten guineas by Dr. Madden for correcting this poem. Steevens.

Note return to page 574 3&lblank; your honour!] The common address to a lord in our author's time, was your honour, which was indifferently used with your lordship. See any old letter, or dedication of that age; and Richard III. Act II. Sc. II. where a Pursuivant, speaking to Lord Hastings, says,—“I thank your honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 575 4Therefore he will be, Timon:] The thought is closely expressed, and obscure: but this seems the meaning: “If the man be honest, my lord, for that reason he will be so in this; and not endeavour at the injustice of gaining my daughter without my consent.” Warburton. I rather think an emendation necessary, and read: “Therefore well be him, Timon: “His honesty rewards him in itself.” That is, “If he is honest, bene sit illi, I wish him the proper happiness of an honest man, but his honesty gives him no claim to my daughter.” The first transcriber probably wrote—“will be with him,” which the next, not understanding, changed to,— “he will be.” Johnson. I think Dr. Warburton's explanation is best, because it exacts no change. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; May he continue “Long in his highness' favour; and do justice “For truth's sake and his conscience.” Again, more appositely in Cymbeline: “This hath been “Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour “He will remain so.” Steevens. “Therefore he will be, Timon.” Therefore he will continue to be so, and is sure of being sufficiently rewarded by the consciousness of virtue; and he does not need the additional blessing of a beautiful and accomplished wife. It has been objected, I forget by whom, if the old Athenian means to say that Lucilius will still continue to be virtuous, what occasion has he to apply to Timon to interfere relative to this marriage? But this is making Shakspeare write by the card. The words mean undoubtedly, that he will be honest in his general conduct, through life; in every other action except that now complained of. Malone.

Note return to page 576 5&lblank; bear my daughter.] A similar expression occurs in Othello: “What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, “If he can carry her thus!” Steevens.

Note return to page 577 6And dispossess her all. Tim. How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband?] The players, those avowed enemies to even a common ellipsis, have here again disordered the metre by interpolation. Will a single idea of our author's have been lost, if, omitting the useless and repeated words —she be, we should regulate the passage thus: “&lblank; How shall she be “Endow'd, if mated with an equal husband?” Steevens.

Note return to page 578 7&lblank; Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!] The meaning is, let me never henceforth consider any thing that I possess, but as owed or due to you; held for your service, and at your disposal. Johnson. So Lady Macbeth says to Duncan: “Your servants ever “Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, “To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, “Still to return your own.” Malone.

Note return to page 579 8&lblank; pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out.] Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be. Johnson.

Note return to page 580 9&lblank; unclew me quite.] To unclew is to unwind a ball of thread. To unclew a man, is to draw out the whole mass of his fortunes. Johnson. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Therefore as you unwind her love from him,— “You must provide to bottom it on me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 581 1Are prized by their masters:] Are rated according to the esteem in which their possessor is held. Johnson.

Note return to page 582 2&lblank; by wearing it.] Old copy—“by the wearing it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 583 3Enter Apemantus.] See this character of a cynick finely drawn by Lucian, in his Auction of the Philisophers; and how well Shakspeare has copied it. Warburton.

Note return to page 584 4&lblank; stay for &lblank;] Old copy—stay thou for &lblank;. With Sir T. Hanmer I have omitted the useless thou, (which the compositor's eye might have caught from the following line,) because it disorders the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 585 5When thou art Timon's dog,] When thou hast gotten a better character, and instead of being Timon as thou art, shalt be changed to Timon's dog, and become more worthy kindness and salutation. Johnson. This is spoken &grd;&gre;&gri;&grk;&grt;&gri;&grk;&grwc;&grst;, as Mr. Upton says, somewhere:— striking his hand on his breast. “Wot you who named me first the kinge's dogge?” says Aristippus in Damon and Pythias. Farmer. Apemantus, I think, means to say, that Timon is not to receive a gentle good morrow from him till that shall happen which never will happen; till Timon is transformed to the shape of his dog, and his knavish followers become honest men. Stay for thy good morrow, says he, till I be gentle, which will happen at the same time when thou art Timon's dog, &c. i. e. never. Malone. Mr. Malone has justly explained the drift of Apemantus. Such another reply occurs in Troilus and Cressida, where Ulysses, desirous to avoid a kiss from Cressida, says to her; give me one— “When Helen is a maid again,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 586 6Are they not Athenians?] The very imperfect state in which the ancient copy of this play has reached us, leaves a doubt whether several short speeches in the present scene were designed for verse or prose. I have therefore made no attempt at regulation. Steevens. Why should not the same doubt exist with regard to other scenes, in which Mr. Steevens has not acted with the some moderation? Boswell.

Note return to page 587 7Pain. You are a dog.] This speech, which is given to the Painter in the old editions, in the modern ones must have been transferred to the Poet by mistake: it evidently belongs to the former. Ritson.

Note return to page 588 8Not so well as plain-dealing.] Alluding to the proverb: “Plain dealing is a jewel, but they that use it die beggars.” Steevens.

Note return to page 589 9That I had no angry wit to be a lord.] This reading is absurd, and unintelligible. But, as I have restored the text: “That I had so hungry a wit to be a lord,” it is satirical enough of conscience, viz. I would hate myself, for having no more wit than to covet so insignificant a title. In the same sense, Shakspeare uses lean-witted in his King Richard II.: “And thou a lunatick, lean-witted fool.” Warburton. The meaning may be,—I should hate myself for patiently enduring to be a lord. This is ill enough expressed. Perhaps some happy change may set it right. I have tried, and can do nothing, yet I cannot heartily concur with Dr. Warburton. Johnson. Mr. Heath reads: “That I had so wrong'd my wit to be a lord.” But the passage before us, is, in my opinion, irremediably corrupted. Steevens. Perhaps the compositor has transposed the words, and they should be read thus: “Angry that I had no wit,—to be a lord.” Or, “Angry to be a lord,—that I had no wit.” Blackstone. Perhaps we should read: “That I had an angry wish to be a lord;” Meaning, that he would hate himself for having wished in his anger to become a lord.—For it is in anger that he says: “Heavens, that I were a lord!” M. Mason. I believe Shakspeare was thinking of the common expression.— “he has wit in his anger;” and that the difficulty arises here, as in many other places, from the original editor's paying no attention to abrupt sentences. Our author, I suppose, wrote: “That I had no angry wit.—To be a lord! “Art thou, &c. Apemantus is asked, why after having wished to be a lord, he should hate himself. He replies,—For this reason; that I had no wit [or discretion] in my anger, but was absurd enough to wish myself one of that set of men, whom I despise. He then exclaims with indignation—To be a lord!—Such is my conjecture, in which however I have not so much confidence as to depart from the mode in which this passage has been hitherto exhibited. Malone.

Note return to page 590 1&lblank; all of companionship.] This expression does not mean barely that they all belong to one company, but that “they are all such as Alcibiades honours with his acquaintance, and sets on a level with himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 591 2&lblank; and, when dinner's done,] And, which is wanting in the first folio, is supplied by the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 592 3—The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey.] Man is exhausted and degenerated; his strain or lineage is worn down into a monkey. Johnson.

Note return to page 593 4Ere we depart.] Who depart? Though Alcibiades was to leave Timon, Timon was not to depart. Common sense favours my emendation. Theobald. Mr. Theobald proposes—do part. Common sense may favour it, but an acquaintance with the language of Shakspeare would not have been quite so propitious to his emendation. Depart and part have the same meaning. So, in King John: “Hath willingly departed with a part.” i. e. hath willingly parted with a part of the thing in question. See vol. iv. p. 315, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 594 5The most accursed thou,] Read: “The more accursed thou &lblank;.” Ritson. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “The more degenerate and base art thou &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 595 6&lblank; no meed,] Meed, which in general signifies reward or recompense, in this place seems to mean desert. So, in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “And yet thy body meeds a better grave.” i. e. deserves. Again, in a comedy called Look About You, 1600: “Thou shalt be rich in honour, full of speed; “Thou shalt win foes by fear, and friends by meed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 596 7All use of quittance.] i. e. all the customary returns made in discharge of obligations. Warburton.

Note return to page 597 8&lblank; discontentedly.] The ancient stage-direction adds—like himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 598 9Most honour'd Timon, it hath pleas'd the gods remember &lblank;] The old copy reads—to remember. But I have omitted, for the sake of metre, and in conformity to our author's practice on other occasions, the adverb—to. Thus, in King Henry VIII. Act IV. Sc. II.: “&lblank; Patience, is that letter “I caus'd you write, yet sent away?” Every one must be aware that the participle—to was purposely left out, before the verb—write. Steevens.

Note return to page 599 1If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; Faults that are rich are fair.] These two lines are absurdly given to Timon. They should be read thus: “Tim. If our betters play at that game, we must not. “Apem. “Dare to imitate them. Faults that are rich are fair.” This is said satirically, and in character. It was a sober reflection in Timon; who by our betters meant the gods, which require to be repaid for benefits received; but it would be impiety in men to expect the same observance for the trifling good they do. Apemantus, agreeably to his character, perverts this sentiment as if Timon had spoke of earthly grandeur and potentates, who expect largest returns for their favours; and therefore ironically replies as above. Warburton. I cannot see that these lines are more proper in any other mouth than Timon's, to whose character of generosity and condescension they are very suitable. To suppose that by our betters are meant the gods, is very harsh, because to imitate the gods has been hitherto reckoned the highest pitch of human virtue. The whole is a trite and obvious thought, uttered by Timon with a kind of affected modesty. If I would make any alteration, it should be only to reform the numbers thus: “Our betters play that game; we must not dare “T' imitate them: faults that are rich are fair.” Johnson. The faults of rich persons, and which contribute to the increase of riches, wear a plausible appearance, and as the world goes are thought fair; but they are faults notwithstanding. Heath. Dr. Warburton with his usual love of innovation, transfers the last word of the first of these lines, and the whole of the second, to Apemantus. Mr. Heath has justly observed that this cannot have been Shakspeare's intention, for thus Apemantus would be made to address Timon personally, who must therefore have seen and heard him; whereas it appears from a subsequent speech that Timon had not yet taken notice of him, as he salutes him with some surprize— “O, Apemantus!—you are welcome.” The term—our betters, being used by the inferior classes of men when they speak of their superiors in the state. Shakspeare uses these words with his usual laxity to express persons of high rank and fortune. Malone. So, in King Lear, vol. x. p. 179, Edgar says (referring to the distracted king): “When we our betters see bearing our woes, “We scarcely think our miseries our foes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 600 2&lblank; confess'd it? hang'd it, have you not?] There seems to be some allusion here to a common proverbial saying of Shakspeare's time: “Confess and be hang'd.” See Othello, Act. IV. Sc. I., vol. ix . p. 414. Malone.

Note return to page 601 3They say, my lords, that &lblank;] That was inserted by Sir T. Hanmer, for the sake of metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 4But yond' man's ever angry.] The old copy has—very angry; which can hardly be right. The emendation now adopted was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone. Perhaps we should read—But yon man's very anger; i. e. anger itself, which always maintains its violence. Steevens. I see no difficulty in the old reading. Since yond' man is very angry, which is a humour which does not become a man, let him have a table by himself, as he is not fit company for others. Boswell.

Note return to page 603 5&lblank; at thine own peril,] The old copy reads—at thine apperil. I have not been able to find such a word in any Dictionary, nor is it reconcileable to etymology. I have therefore adopted an emendation made by Mr. Steevens. Malone. Apperil, the reading of the old editions, may be right, though no other instance of it has been, or possibly can be produced. It is, however, in actual use in the metropolis, at this day. Ritson. I have restored the original text, because, as Mr. Gifford has observed, the word which they would discard, occurs more than once in Ben Jonson: “Sir, I will bail you at mine own apperil.” Devil is an Ass, Gifford's edition, vol. v. p. 137. “Faith, I will bail him at mine own apperil.” Magnetic Lady, vol. vi. p. 117. “As you will answer it at your apperil.” Tale of a Tub. vol. vi. p. 159. Boswell.

Note return to page 604 6&lblank; I myself would have no power:] If this be the true reading, the sense is,—all Athenians are welcome to share my fortune: I would myself have no exclusive right or power in this house. Perhaps we might read,—‘I myself would have no poor.’ I would have every Athenian consider himself as joint possessor of my fortune. Johnson. I understand Timon's meaning to be: ‘I myself would have no power to make thee silent, but I wish thou would'st let my meat make thee silent.’ Timon, like a polite landlord, disclaims all power over the meanest or most troublesome of his guests. Tyrwhitt. These words refer to what follows, not to that which precedes. ‘I claim no extraordinary power in right of my being master of the house: I wish not by my commands to impose silence on any one; but though I myself do not enjoin you to silence, let my meat stop your mouth.’ Malone.

Note return to page 605 7I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should Ne'er flatter thee.] The meaning is,—I could not swallow thy meat, for I could not pay for it with flattery; and what was given me with an ill will would stick in my throat. Johnson. For has here perhaps the signification of because. So, in Othello: “&lblank; Haply, for I am black.” Malone.

Note return to page 606 8&lblank; so many dip their meat In one man's blood;] The allusion is to a pack of hounds trained to pursuit by being gratified with the blood of an animal which they kill, and the wonder is that the animal on which they are feeding cheers them to the chase. Johnson.

Note return to page 607 9Methinks, they should invite them without knives:] It was the custom in our author's time for every guest to bring his own knife, which he occasionally whetted on a stone that hung behind the door. One of these whetstones may be seen in Parkinson's Museum. They were strangers, at that period, to the use of forks. Ritson.

Note return to page 608 1&lblank; windpipe's dangerous notes:] The notes of the windpipe seem to be only the indications which show where the windpipe is. Johnson. Shakspeare is very fond of making use of musical terms, when he is speaking of the human body, and windpipe and notes savour strongly of a quibble. Steevens.

Note return to page 609 2&lblank; with harness &lblank;] i. e. armour. See vol. xi. p. 267. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 3My lord, in heart;] That is, my lord's health with sincerity. An emendation has been proposed thus: “My love in heart;—” but it is not necessary. Johnson. So, in Chaucer's Knightes Tale, 2685: “And was all his in chere, as his in herte.” Again, in Sir Amyas Poulet's letter to Sir Francis Walsingham, refusing to have any hand in the assassination of Mary Queen of Scots: “&lblank; he [Sir Drue Drury] forbeareth to make any particular answer, but subscribeth in heart to my opinion.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I. Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; in heart desiring still “You may behold,” &c. Again, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. Sc. II.: “&lblank; Dost thou not wish in heart, “The chain were longer, and the letter short?” Steevens.

Note return to page 611 4&lblank; Timon, Those healths &lblank;] This speech, except the concluding couplet, is printed as prose in the old copy; nor could it be exhibited as verse but by transferring the word Timon, which follows—look ill, to its present place. The transposition was made by Mr. Capell. The word might have been an interlineation, and so have been misplaced. Yet, after all, I suspect many of the speeches in this play, which the modern editors have exhibited in a loose kind of metre, were intended by the author as prose: in which form they appear in the old copy. Malone.

Note return to page 612 5Rich men sin,] Dr. Farmer proposes to read—sing. Reed.

Note return to page 613 6&lblank; for ever perfect.] That is, arrived at the perfection of happiness. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Then comes my fit again; I had else been perfect;—” Steevens.

Note return to page 614 7How had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong to my heart?] Charitable signifies, dear, endearing. So, Milton: “Relations dear, and all the charities “Of father, son, and brother &lblank;.” Alms, in English, are called charities, and from thence we may collect that our ancestors knew well in what the virtue of alms-giving consisted; not in the act, but in the disposition. Warburton. The meaning is probably this:—Why are you distinguished from thousands by that title of endearment; was there not a particular connection and intercourse of tenderness between you and me? Johnson.

Note return to page 615 8I confirm you.] I fix your characters firmly in my own mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 616 9&lblank; they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them: and &lblank;] This passage I have restored from the old copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 617 1O joy, e'en made away ere it can be born!] Tears being the effect both of joy and grief, supplied our author with an opportunity of conceit, which he seldom fails to indulge. Timon, weeping with a kind of tender pleasure, cries out, “O joy, e'en made away,” destroyed, turned to tears, before “it can be born,” before it can be fully possessed. Johnson. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “These violent delights have violent ends, “And in their triumphs die.” The old copy has—joys. It was corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 618 2Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks:] In the original edition the words stand thus: “Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their faults I drink to you.” Perhaps the true reading is this: “Mine eyes cannot hold out; they water. Methinks, to forget their faults, I will drink to you.” Or it may be explained without any change. “Mine eyes cannot hold out water,” that is, cannot keep water from breaking in upon them. Johnson.

Note return to page 619 3&lblank; to make them drink,] Sir T. Hanmer reads—to make them drink thee; and is followed by Dr. Warburton, I think, without sufficient reason. The covert sense of Apemantus is, ‘what thou losest, they get.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 620 4&lblank; like a babe &lblank;] That is, a weeping babe. Johnson. I question if Shakspeare meant the propriety of allusion to be carried quite so far. To look for babies in the eyes of another, is no uncommon expression. Thus, among the anonymous pieces in Lord Surrey's Poems, 1557: “In eche of her two cristall eyes “Smileth a naked boye.” Again, in Love's Mistress, by Heywood, 1636: “Joy'd in his looks, look'd babies in his eyes.” Again in The Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “She makes him sing songs to her, looks fortunes in his fists, and babies in his eyes.” Again, in Churchyard's Tragicall Discours of a dolorous Gentlewoman, 1593: “Men will not looke for babes in hollow eyen.” Steevens. Does not Lucullus dwell on Timon's metaphor by referring to circumstances preceding the birth, and means joy was conceived in their eyes, and sprung up there, like the motion of a babe in the womb? Tollet. The word conception, in the preceding line, shows, I think, that Mr. Tollett's interpretation of this passage is the true one. We have a similar imagery in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; and, almost like the gods, “Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.” Malone.

Note return to page 621 5Much!] Much! is frequently used, as here, ironically, and with some indication of contempt. Steevens. See vol. vi. p. 476, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 622 6The ear, &c.] In former copies— “There taste, touch, all pleas'd from thy table rise, “They only now &lblank;. The five senses are talked of by Cupid, but three of them only are made out; and those in a very heavy unintelligible manner. It is plain therefore we should read— “Th' ear, taste, touch, smell, pleas'd from thy table rise, “These only now, &c.” i. e. the five senses, Timon, acknowledge thee their patron; four of them, viz. the hearing, taste, touch, and smell, are all feasted at thy board; and these ladies come with me to entertain your sight in a masque. Massinger, in his Duke of Millaine, copied the passage from Shakspeare; and apparently before it was thus corrupted; where, speaking of a banquet, he says— “&lblank; All that may be had “To please the eye, the ear, taste, touch, or smell, “Are carefully provided.” Warburton. Dr. Warburton and the subsequent editors omit the word—all; but omission is the most dangerous mode of emendation. The corrupted word—There, shows that—The ear was intended to be contracted into one syllable; and table also was probably used as taking up only the time of a monosyllable. Malone. Perhaps the present arrangement of the foregoing words, renders monosyllabification needless. Steevens.

Note return to page 623 7Musick, make their welcome.] Perhaps, the poet wrote: “Musick, make known their welcome.” So, in Macbeth: “We will require her welcome,— “Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends.” Steevens.

Note return to page 624 8They dance!] I believe “They dance!” to be a marginal note only; and perhaps we should read: “These are mad women.” Tyrwhitt. They dance! they are mad women.] Shakspeare seems to have borrowed this idea from the puritanical writers of his own time. Thus in Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 8vo. 1583: “Dauncers thought to be mad men.” “And as in all feasts and pastimes dauncing is the last, so it is the extream of all other vice: And again, there were (saith Ludovicus Vives) from far countries certain men brought into our parts of the world, who when they saw men daunce, ran away marvelously affraid, crying out and thinking them to have been mad,” &c. Perhaps the thought originated from the following passage from Cicero pro Murena, 6: “Nemo enim ferè saltat sobrius, nisi fortè insanit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 625 9Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.] The glory of this life is very near to madness, as may be made appear from this pomp, exhibited in a place where a philosopher is feeding on oil and roots. When we see by example how few are the necessaries of life, we learn what madness there is in so much superfluity. Johnson. The word like in this place does not express resemblance, but equality. Apemantus does not mean to say that the glory of this life was like madness, but it was just as much madness in the eye of reason, as the pomp appeared to be, when compared to the frugal repast of a philosopher. M. Mason.

Note return to page 626 1&lblank; of their friends' gift?] That is, given them by their friends. Johnson.

Note return to page 627 2&lblank; fair ladies.] I should wish to read, for the sake of metre —fairest ladies. Fair, however, may be here used as a dissyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 3&lblank; lively lustre,] For the epithet—lively, we are indebted to the second folio: it is wanting in the first. Steevens.

Note return to page 629 4&lblank; mine own device;] The mask appears to have been designed by Timon to surprise his guests. Johnson.

Note return to page 630 5 1 Lady. My lord, &c.] In the old copy this speech is given to the 1 Lord. I have ventured to change it to the 1 Lady, as Mr. Edwards and Mr. Heath, as well as Dr. Johnson, concur in the emendation. Steevens. The conjecture of Dr. Johnson, who observes, that L. only was probably set down in the MS. is well founded; for that abbreviation is used in the old copy in this very scene, and in many other places. The next speech, however coarse the allusion couched under the word taking may be, puts the matter beyond a doubt. Malone.

Note return to page 631 6&lblank; even at the best.] Perhaps we should read: “&lblank; ever at the best.” So, Act III. Sc. VI.: “Ever at the best.” Tyrwhitt. “Take us even at the best,” I believe, means, ‘you have seen the best we can do.’ They are supposed to be hired dancers, and therefore there is no impropriety in such a confession. Mr. Malone's subsequent explanation, however, pleases me better than my own. Steevens. I believe the meaning is, “You have conceived the fairest of us,” (to use the words of Lucullus in a subsequent scene,) you have estimated us too highly, perhaps above our deserts. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. ix.: “He would commend his guift, and make the best.” Malone.

Note return to page 632 7&lblank; would not hold taking,] i. e. bear handling, words which are employed to the same purpose in King Henry IV. Part II.: “A rotten case abides no handling.” Steevens.

Note return to page 633 8&lblank; there is an idle banquet Attends you:] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “We have a foolish trifling supper towards.” Steevens.

Note return to page 634 9There is no crossing him in his humour;] Read: “There is no crossing him in this his humour.” Ritson.

Note return to page 635 1&lblank; he'd be cross'd then, an he could.] The poet does not mean here, that he would he crossed in humour, but that he would have his hand crossed with money, if he could. He is playing on the word, and alluding to our old silver penny, used before King Edward the First's time, which had a cross on the reverse with a crease, that it might be more easily broke into halves and quarters, half-pence and farthings. From this penny, and other pieces, was our common expression derived,—“I have not a cross about me;” i. e. ‘not a piece of money.’ Theobald. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; for, I think you have no money in your purse.” Steevens. The poet certainly meant this equivoque; but one of the senses intended to be conveyed was, he will then too late wish that it were possible to undo what he had done: he will in vain lament that I did not [cross or] thwart him in his career of prodigality. Malone.

Note return to page 636 2&lblank; had not eyes behind;] To see the miseries that are following her. Johnson. Persius has a similar idea, Sat. I.: &lblank; cui vivere fas est Occipiti cæco. Steevens.

Note return to page 637 3&lblank; for his mind.] For nobleness of soul. Johnson.

Note return to page 638 4&lblank; to Advance this jewel;] To prefer it; to raise it to honour by wearing it. Johnson.

Note return to page 639 5Accept, and, &c.] Thus the second folio. The first—unmetrically, —“Accept it &lblank;.” Steevens. So, the Jeweller says in the preceding scene: “Things of like value, differing in the owners, “Are prized by their masters: believe it, dear lord, “You mend the jewel by wearing it.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 640 6I pr'ythee, let us be provided &lblank;] As the measure is here imperfect, we may reasonably suppose our author to have written: “I pr'ythee, let us be provided straight &lblank;.” So, in Hamlet: “Make her grave straight.” i. e. immediately. Steevens.

Note return to page 641 7And all out of an empty coffer.] Read: “And all the while out of an empty coffer.” Ritson.

Note return to page 642 8&lblank; remember me,] I have added—me, for the sake of the measure. So, in King Richard III.: “I do remember me,—Henry the sixth “Did prophecy &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 643 9I beseech you,] Old copy, unmetrically— “O, I beseech you, &lblank;.” The player editors have been liberal of their tragick O's, to the frequent injury of our author's measure. For the same reason I have expelled this exclamation from the beginning of the next speech but one. Steevens.

Note return to page 644 1I'll tell you true.] Dr. Johnson reads,—I tell you, &c. in which he has been heedlessly followed; for though the change does not affect the sense of the passage, it is quite unnecessary, as may be proved by numerous instances in our author's dialogue. Thus in the first line of King Henry V: “My lord, I'll tell you, that self bill is urg'd &lblank;.” Again in King John: “I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power, this night &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 645 2&lblank; 'tis not enough to give; Methinks, I could deal kingdoms &lblank;] Thus the passage stood in all the editions before Sir Hanmer's, who restored—My thanks. Johnson. I have displaced the words inserted by Sir T. Hanmer. What I have already given, says Timon, is not sufficient on the occasion: Methinks I could deal kingdoms, i. e. could dispense them on every side with an ungrudging distribution, like that with which I could deal out cards. Steevens.

Note return to page 646 3Ay, defiled land,] I, is the old reading, which apparently depends on a very low quibble. Alcibiades is told, that ‘his estate lies in a pitch'd field.’ Now pitch, as Falstaff says, doth defile. Alcibiades therefore replies that his estate lies in defiled land. This, as it happened, was not understood, and all the editors published— “I defy land &lblank;.” Johnson. I being always printed in the old copy for Ay, the editor of the second folio made the absurd alteration mentioned by Dr. Johnson. Malone.

Note return to page 647 4All to you.] i. e. all good wishes, or all happiness to you. So, Macbeth: “All to all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 648 5Ready for his friends.] I suppose, for the sake of enforcing the sense, as well as restoring the measure, we should read: “Ready ever for his friends.” Steevens.

Note return to page 649 6Serving of becks,] Beck means a salutation made with the head. So, Milton: “Nods and becks and wreathed smiles.” To serve a beck, is to offer a salutation. Johnson. To serve a beck, means, I believe, to pay a courtly obedience to a nod. Thus, in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “And with low beck “Prevent a sharp check.” Again, in The Play of the Four P's, 1569: “Then I to every soul again, “Did give a beck them to retain.” In Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611, I find the same word: “I had my winks, my becks, treads on the toe.” Again, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: &lblank; wanton looks, “And privy becks, savouring incontinence.” Again, in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597: “And he that with a beck controuls the heavens.” It happens then that the word beck has no less than four distinct significations. In Drayton's Polyolbion, it is enumerated among the appellations of small streams of water. In Shakspeare's Antony and Cleopatra, it has its common reading—a sign of invitation made by the hand. In Timon, it appears to denote a bow, and in Lyly's play a nod of dignity or command; as well as in Marius and Sylla, 1594: “Yea, Sylla with a beck could break thy neck.” Again, in the interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1568: “For what, O Lord, is so possible to man's judgment “Which thou canst not with a beck perform incontinent?” Steevens. See Surrey's Poems, p. 29: “And with a becke full lowe he bowed at her feete.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 650 7I doubt whether their legs, &c.] He plays upon the word leg, as it signifies a limb, and a bow or act of obeisance. Johnson.

Note return to page 651 8&lblank; I fear me, thou Wilt give thyself away in paper shortly.] i. e. be ruined by his securities entered into. Warburton. Dr. Farmer would read—in proper. So, in William Roy's Satire against Wolsey: “&lblank; their order “Is to have nothynge in proper, “But to use all thynges in commune,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 652 9Thou'lt not hear me now,—thou shalt not then, I'll lock &lblank;] The measure will be restored by the omission of an unnecessary word—me: “Thou'lt not hear now,—thou shalt not then, I'll lock &lblank;”. Steevens.

Note return to page 653 1Thy heaven &lblank;] The pleasure of being flattered. Johnson. Apemantus never intended, at any event, to flatter Timon, nor did Timon expect any flattery from him. By his heaven he means good advice, the only thing by which he could be saved. The following lines confirm this explanation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 654 2&lblank; twenty &lblank;] Mr. Theobald has—ten. Dr. Farmer proposes to read—twain. Reed.

Note return to page 655 3Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, And able horses:] Mr. Theobald reads: “Ten able horses.” Steevens. “If I want gold (says the Senator) let me steal a beggar's dog, and give it Timon, the dog coins me gold. If I would sell my horse, and had a mind to buy ten better instead of him; why, I need but give my horse to Timon to gain this point; and it presently fetches me an horse.” But is that gaining the point proposed? The first folio reads; “And able horses;—” Which reading, joined to the reasoning of the passage, gave me the hint for this emendation. Theobald. The passage which Mr. Theobald would alter, means only this: “If I give my horse to Timon, it immediately foals, and not only produces more, but able horses.” The same construction occurs in Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too.” Something similar occurs also in Beaumont and Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant: “&lblank; some twenty, young and handsome, “As also able maids, for the court service.” Steevens. Perhaps the letters of the word me were transposed at the press Shakspeare might have written: “&lblank; it foals 'em straight “And able horses.” If there be no corruption in the text, the word twenty in the preceding line, is understood here after me. We have had this sentiment differently expressed in the preceding Act: “&lblank; no meed but he repays “Seven-fold above itself; no gift to him, “But breeds the giver a return exceeding “All use of quittance.” Malone.

Note return to page 656 4&lblank; No porter at his gate; But rather one that smiles, and still invites &lblank;] I imagine that a line is lost here, in which the behaviour of a surly porter was described. Johnson. There is no occasion to suppose the loss of a line. Sternness was the characteristic of a porter. There appeared at Killingworth castle, [1575] “a porter tall of parson, big of lim, and stearn of countinauns.” Farmer. So also, in A Knight's Conjuring, &c. by Decker: “You mistake, if you imagine that Plutoes porter is like one of those big fellowes that stand like gyants at Lordes gates, &c.—yet hee's as surly as those key-turners are.” Steevens. The word—one, in the second line, does not refer to porter, but means a person. He has no stern forbidding porter at his gate to keep people out, but a person who invites them in. M. Mason.

Note return to page 657 5&lblank; no reason Can found his state in safety.] [Old copy—sound.] The supposed meaning of this must be,—No reason, by sounding fathoming, or trying, his state can find it safe. But, as the words stand, they imply that no reason can safely sound his state. I read thus: “&lblank; no reason “Can found his state in safety.” Reason cannot find his fortune to have any safe or solid foundation. The types of the first printer of this play were so worn and defaced, that f and s are not always to be distinguished. Johnson. The following passage in Macbeth affords countenance to Dr. Johnson's emendation: “Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;—” Steevens.

Note return to page 658 6&lblank; be not ceas'd &lblank;] i. e. stopped. So, in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “Why should Tiberius' liberty be ceased?” Again, in The Valiant Welchman, 1615: “&lblank; pity thy people's wrongs, “And cease the clamours both of old and young.” Steevens.

Note return to page 659 7&lblank; sirrah,] Was added for the sake of the metre by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 660 8&lblank; a naked gull,] A gull is a bird as remarkable for the poverty of its feathers, as a phœnix is supposed to be for the richness of its plumage. Steevens. The term gull is thus explained by my much respected friend Roger Wilbraham, Esq. in a Glossary of Words used in Cheshire: “Gull, s. a naked gull; so are called all nestling birds in quite an unfledged state. They have always a yellowish cast; and the word is, I believe, derived from the Ang. Sax, geole, or the Sui. Got. gul, yellow, Som and Jhre. The commentators, not aware of the meaning of the term naked gull, blunder in their attempt to explain those lines of Shakspeare in Timon of Athens: “‘Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, “‘Which flashes now a phœnix.’ Archælogia, vol. xix.” In the Black Booke, 1604, sig. C. 3, a young heir is termed a gull-finch. It is probably used with the same meaning in When You See Me You Know Me, by Samuel Rowley, 1633, sig. E. 2, verso: “The angels has flown about to-night, and two gulls are light into my hands.” Boswell.

Note return to page 661 9Which flashes, &c.] Which, the pronoun relative, relating to things, is frequently used, as in this instance, by Shakspeare, instead of who, the pronoun relative, applied to persons. The use of the former instead of the latter is still preserved in the Lord's prayer. Steevens.

Note return to page 662 1Caph. I go, sir. Sen. I go, sir?] This last speech is not a captious repetition of what Caphis said, but a further injunction to him to go. I, in all the old dramatick writers, stands for—ay, as it does in this place. M. Mason. I have left Mr. M. Mason's opinion before the reader, though I do not heartily concur in it. Steevens.

Note return to page 663 2&lblank; take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in compt.] [Old copy—“And have the dates in. Come.”] Certainly, ever since bonds were given, the date was put in when the bond was entered into: and these bonds Timon had already given, and the time limited for their payment was lapsed. The Senator's charge to his servant must be to the tenour as I have amended the text; Take good notice of the dates, for the better computation of the interest due upon them. Theobald. Mr. Theobald's emendation may be supported by the following instance in Macbeth: “Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 664 3&lblank; Never mind Was to be so unwise, to be so kind.] Nothing can be worse, or more obscurely expressed: and all for the sake of a wretched rhyme. To make it sense and grammar, it should be supplied thus: “&lblank; Never mind “Was [made] to be so unwise, [in order] to be so kind.” i. e. Nature, in order to make a profuse mind, never before endowed any man with so large a share of folly. Warburton. Of this mode of expression, conversation affords many examples: “I was always to be blamed, whatever happened.”—“I am in the lottery, but I was always to draw blanks.” Johnson.

Note return to page 665 4Good even, Varro:] It is observable, that this good evening is before dinner: for Timon tells Alcibiades, that they will go forth again, as soon as dinner's done, which may prove that by dinner our author meant not the cœna of ancient times, but the mid-day's repast. I do not suppose the passage corrupt: such inadvertencies neither author nor editor can escape. There is another remark to be made. Varro and Isidore sink a few lines afterwards into the servants of Varro and Isidore. Whether servants, in our author's time, took the names of their masters, I know not. Perhaps it is a slip of negligence. Johnson. In the old copy it stands: “Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro.” Steevens. In like manner in the fourth scene of the next Act the servant of Lucius is called by his master's name; but our author's intention is sufficiently manifested by the stage-direction in the fourth scene of the third Act, where we find in the first folio, p. 86, col. 2,) “Enter Varro's man, meeting others.” I have therefore always annexed Serv. to the name of the master. Malone. Good even, or, as it is sometimes less accurately written, Good den, was the usual salutation from noon, the moment that good morrow became improper. This appears plainly from the following passage in Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV.: “Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. “Mercutio. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. “Nur. Is it good den? “Merc. 'Tis no less I tell you; for the.. hand of the dial is now open upon the.. of noon.” So, in Hamlet's greeting to Marcellus, Act I. Sc. I. Sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Warburton, not being aware, I presume, of this wide sense of Good even, have altered it to Good morning; without any necessity, as from the course of the incidents, precedent and subsequent, the day may well be supposed to be turned of noon. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 666 5&lblank; we'll forth again,] i. e. to hunting, from which diversion, we find by Flavius's speech, he was just returned. It may be here observed, that in our author's time it was the custom to hunt as well after dinner as before. Thus, in Laneham's Account of the Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, we find that Queen Elizabeth always, while there, hunted in the afternoon; “Monday was hot, and therefore her highness kept in till five a clok in the evening; what time it pleaz'd her to ryde forth into the chase, to hunt the hart of fors; which found anon, and after sore chased,” &c. Again: “Munday the 18th of this July, the weather being hot, her highness kept the castle for coolness 'till about five a clok, her majesty in the chase hunted the hart (as before) of forz,” &c. So, in Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “He means this evening in the park to hunt.” Reed.

Note return to page 667 6That with your other noble parts you'll suit,] i. e. that you will behave on this occasion in a manner consistent with your other noble qualities. Steevens.

Note return to page 668 7He humbly prays your speedy payment,] As our author does not appear to have meant that the servant of Isidore should be less civil than those of the other lords, it is natural to conceive that this line, at present imperfect, originally stood thus: “He humbly prays your lordship's speedy payment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 669 8&lblank; of date-broke bonds,] The old copy has: “&lblank; of debt, broken bonds.” Mr. Malone very judiciously reads—date-broken. For the sake of measure, I have omitted the last letter of the second word. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “I have broke [i. e. broken] with her father.” Steevens. To the present emendation I should not have ventured to give a place in the text, but that some change is absolutely necessary, and this appears to be established beyond a doubt by a former line in the preceding scene, page 293: “And my reliances on his fracted dates.” So, also, in The Merchant of Venice, vol. v. p. 33: “If he should break his day, what should I gain, “By the exaction of the forfeiture.” The transcriber's ear deceived him here as in many other places. Sir Thomas Hanmer and the subsequent editors evaded the difficulty by omitting the corrupted word—debt. Malone.

Note return to page 670 9Enter Apemantus and a Fool.] I suspect some scene to be lost, in which the entrance of the Fool, and the page that follows him, was prepared by some introductory dialogue, in which the audience was informed that they were the fool and page of Phrynia, Timandra, or some other courtezan, upon the knowledge of which depends the greater part of the ensuing jocularity. Johnson.

Note return to page 671 1Poor rogues, and usurers' men! bawds, &c.] This is said so abruptly, that I am inclined to think it misplaced, and would regulate the passage thus: “Caph. Where's the fool now? “Apem. He last asked the question. “All. What are we, Apemantus? “Apem. Asses. “All. Why? “Apem. That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Poor rogues, and usurers' men! bawds between gold and want! Speak,” &c. Thus every word will have its proper place. It is likely that the passage transposed was forgot in the copy, and inserted in the margin, perhaps a little beside the proper place, which the transcriber wanting either skill or care to observe, wrote it where it now stands. Johnson. The transposition proposed by Dr. Johnson is unnecessary. Apemantus does not address these words to any of the others, but mutters them to himself; so that they do not enter into the dialogue, or compose a part of it. M. Mason.

Note return to page 672 2She's e'en setting on water to scald, &c.] The old name for the disease got at Corinth was the brenning, and a sense of scalding is one of its first symptoms. Johnson. The same thought occurs in the Old Law, by Massinger: “&lblank; look parboil'd, “As if they came from Cupid's scalding house.” Randle Holme, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon, b. iii. ch. ii. p. 441, has also the following passage: “He beareth Argent, a Doctor's tub (otherwise called a Cleansing Tub), Sable, Hooped, Or. In this pockifyed, and such diseased persons, are for a certain time put into, not to boyl up to an heighth, but to parboil,” &c. Steevens. It was anciently the practice, and in inns perhaps still continues, to scald off the feathers of poultry instead of plucking them. Chaucer hath referred to it in his Romaunt of the Rose, 6820: “Without scalding they hem pulle.” Henley.

Note return to page 673 3'Would, we could see you at Corinth.] A cant name for a bawdy-house, I suppose, from the dissoluteness of that ancient Greek city; of which Alexander ab Alexandro has these words: “Et Corinthi supra mille prostitutas in templo Veneris assidue degere, et inflammata libidine quæstui meretricio operam dare, et velut sacrorum ministras Deæ famulari.” Milton, in his Apology for Smectymnuus, says: “Or searching for me at the Bordellos, where, it may be, he has lost himself, and raps up, without pity, the sage and rheumatick old prelatess, with all her young Corinthian laity, to enquire for such a one.” Warburton.

Note return to page 674 4&lblank; my mistress' page.] In the first passage this Fool speaks of his sister, in the second [as exhibited in the modern editions] of his mistress. In the old copy it is master in both places. It should rather, perhaps, be mistress in both, as it is in a following and a preceding passage: “All. How does your mistress? “Fool. My mistress is one, and I am her fool.” Steevens. I have not hesitated to print mistress in both places. Master was frequently printed in the old copy instead of mistress, and vice versa, from the ancient mode of writing an M. only, which stood in the MSS. of Shakspeare's time either for the one or the other; and the copyist or printer completed the word without attending to the context. This abbreviation is found in Coriolanus, folio, 1623, p. 21: “Where's Cotus? My M. calls for him?” Again, more appositely, in The Merchant of Venice, 1623: “What ho, M. [Master] Lorenzo, and M. [Mistress] Lorenzo.” In vol. v. p. 396, n. 1; and Henry VI. Part I. Act. I. Sc. III. are found corruptions similar to the present, in consequence of the printer's completing the abbreviated word of the MS. improperly. Malone.

Note return to page 675 5&lblank; my mistress' house &lblank;] Here again the old copy reads— master's. I have corrected it for the reason already assigned. The context puts the matter beyond a doubt. Mr. Theobald, I find, had silently made the same emendation; but in subsequent editions the corrupt reading of the old copy was again restored. Malone.

Note return to page 676 6&lblank; his artificial one:] Meaning the celebrated philosopher's stone, which was in those times much talked of. Sir Thomas Smith was one of those who lost considerable sums in seeking of it. Johnson. Sir Richard Steele was one of the last eminent men who entertained hopes of being successful in this pursuit. His laboratory was at Poplar, a village near London, and is now converted into a garden house. Steevens.

Note return to page 677 7&lblank; made your minister,] So the original. The second folio and the later editions have all: “&lblank; made you minister.” Johnson. The construction is:—“And made that unaptness your minister.” Malone.

Note return to page 678 8Return so much,] He does not mean so great a sum, but a certain sum, as it might happen to be. Our author frequently uses this kind of expression. See a note on the words—“with so many talents,” p. 316, n. 9. Malone.

Note return to page 679 9&lblank; My dear-lov'd lord!] Thus the second folio. The first omits the epithet—dear, and consequently vitiates the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 1Though you hear now, (too late!) yet now's a time,] i. e. Though it be now too late to retrieve your former fortunes, yet it is not too late to prevent by the assistance of your friends, your future miseries. Had the Oxford editor understood the sense, he would not have altered the text to,— “Though you hear me now, yet now's too late a time.” Warburton. I think Sir Thomas Hanmer right, and have received his emendation. Johnson. The old reading is not properly explained by Dr. Warburton. “Though I tell you this (says Flavius) at too late a period, perhaps, for the information to be of any service to you, yet late as it is, it is necessary that you should be acquainted with it.” It is evident, that the steward had very little hope of assistance from his master's friends. Ritson. Though you now at last listen to my remonstrances, yet now your affairs are in such a state that the whole of your remaining fortune will scarce pay half your debts. You are therefore wise too late. Malone.

Note return to page 681 2The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts. Tim. Let all my land be sold.] The redundancy of measure in this passage persuades me that it stood originally thus: “Your greatest having lacks a half to pay “Your present debts. “Tim. “Let all my land be sold.” Steevens.

Note return to page 682 3&lblank; and at length How goes our reckoning?] This Steward talks very wildly. The Lord indeed might have asked, what a Lord seldom knows: “How goes our reckoning?” But the Steward was too well satisfied in that matter. I would read therefore: “Hold good our reckoning?” Warburton. It is common enough, and the commentator knows it is common to propose, interrogatively, that of which neither the speaker nor the hearer has any doubt. The present reading may therefore stand. Johnson. How will you be able to subsist in the time intervening between the payment of the present demands (which your whole substance will hardly satisfy) and the claim of future dues, for which you have no fund whatsoever; and finally on the settlement of all accounts in what a wretched plight will you be? Malone.

Note return to page 683 4O my good lord, the world is but a word;] The meaning is, as the world itself may be comprised in a word, you might give it away in a breath. Warburton.

Note return to page 684 5&lblank; our offices &lblank;] i. e. the apartments allotted to culinary purposes, the reception of domesticks, &c. Thus, in Macbeth: “Sent forth great largess to your offices.” Would Duncan have sent largess to any but servants? See vol. xi. p. 90, n. 8. it appears that what we now call offices, were anciently called houses of office. So, in Chaucer's Clerkes Tale, v. 8140, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition: “Houses of office stuffed with plentee “Ther mayst thou see of deinteous vittaile.” Steevens. I have already given my opinion upon the passage quoted from Macbeth, in its proper place. Offices are not apartments allotted to the reception of domesticks; but, as Mr. Steevens has properly explained the word, (where it occurs in Othello, vol. ix. p. 318, n. 7,) it means “all rooms or places, at which refreshments are prepared, or served out.” I think his explanation of riotous feeders equally erroneous. It does not follow that because feeders may sometimes have been used to signify servants, that it never should be employed in a more general sense. Malone. So, in Shirley's Opportunitie: “Let all the offices of entertainment “Be free and open.” Boswell.

Note return to page 685 6With riotous feeders;] Feeders are servants, whose low debaucheries are practised in the offices of a house. See a note on Antony and Cleopatra, vol. xi. p. 328, n. 9: “&lblank; one who looks on feeders.” Steevens.

Note return to page 686 7&lblank; a wasteful cock,] i. e, a cockloft, a garret. And a wasteful cock, signifies a garret lying in waste, neglected, put to no use. Hanmer. Sir Thomas Hanmer's explanation is received by Dr. Warburton, yet I think them both apparently mistaken. A wasteful cock is a cock or pipe with a turning stopple running to waste. In this sense, both the terms have their usual meaning; but I know not that cock is ever used for cockloft, or wasteful for lying in waste, or that lying in waste is at all a phrase. Johnson. Whatever be the meaning of the present passage, it is certain, that lying in waste is still a very common phrase. Farmer. A wasteful cock is what we now call a waste pipe; a pipe which is continually running, and thereby prevents the overflow of cisterns, and other reservoirs, by carrying off their superfluous water. This circumstance served to keep the idea of Timon's unceasing prodigality in the mind of the Steward, while its remoteness from the scenes of luxury within the house, was favourable to meditation. Collins. The reader will have a perfect notion of the method taken by Mr. Pope in his edition, when he is informed that, for wasteful cock, that editor reads—lonely room. Malone.

Note return to page 687 8Who is not Timon's?] I suppose we ought to read, for the sake of measure: “Who is not lord Timon's?” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 9No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.] Every reader must rejoice in this circumstance of comfort which presents itself to Timon, who, although beggar'd through want of prudence, consoles himself with reflection that his ruin was not brought on by the pursuit of guilty pleasures. Steevens.

Note return to page 689 1And try the argument &lblank;] The licentiousness of our author forces us often upon far-fetched expositions. Arguments may mean contents, as the arguments of a book; or evidences and proofs. Johnson. The matter contained in a poem or play was in our author's time commonly thus denominated. The contents of his Rape of Lucrece, which he certainly published himself, he calls The Argument. Hence undoubtedly his use of the word. If I would, says Timon, by borrowing, try of what men's hearts are composed, what they have in them, &c. The old copy reads—argument; not, as Dr. Johnson supposed—arguments. Malone. So, in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 360: “Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in it?” Many more instances to the same purpose might be subjoined. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 2As I can bid thee speak.] Thus the old copy; but it being clear from the overloaded measure that these words are a playhouse interpolation, I would not hesitate to omit them. They are understood, though not expressed. Steevens.

Note return to page 691 3&lblank; crown'd] i. e. dignified, adorned, made respectable. So, in King Henry VIII.: “And yet no day without a deed to crown it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 692 4Within there, ho!] Ho, was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer. The frequency of Shakspeare's use of this interjection, needs no examples. Steevens.

Note return to page 693 5&lblank; Flaminius!] The old copy has—Flavius. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. The error probably arose from Fla. only being set down in the MS. Malone.

Note return to page 694 6&lblank; Lord Lucullus?] As the Steward is repeating the words of Timon, I have not scrupled to supply the title lord, which is wanting in the old copy, though necessary to the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 695 7Go you, sir, to the senators,] To complete the line, we might read, as in the first scene of this play: “&lblank; the senators of Athens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 696 8&lblank; I knew it the most general way,] General is not speedy, but compendious, the way to try many at a time. Johnson.

Note return to page 697 9&lblank; at fall,] i. e. at an ebb. Steevens.

Note return to page 698 1&lblank; but &lblank;] Was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer, to complete the verse. Steevens.

Note return to page 699 2&lblank; intending &lblank;] Is regarding, turning their notice to other things. Johnson. To intend and to attend had anciently the same meaning. So, in The Spanish Curate of Beaumont and Fletcher: “Good sir, intend this business.” See vol. v. p. 314, n. 4. Steevens. See also, vol. ix. p. 264, n. 4. Boswell. So, in Wits, Fits, and Fancies, &c. 1595: “Tell this man that I am going to dinner to my lord maior, and that I cannot now intend his tittle-tattle.” Again, in Pasquil's Night-Cap, a poem, 1623: “For we have many secret ways to spend, “Which are not fit our husbands should intend.” Malone.

Note return to page 700 3&lblank; and these hard fractions,] Flavius, by fractions, means broken hints, interrupted sentences, abrupt remarks. Johnson.

Note return to page 701 4&lblank; half caps,] A half-cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off. Johnson.

Note return to page 702 5&lblank; cold-moving nods,] By cold-moving I do not understand with Mr. Theobald, chilling or cold-producing nods, but a slight motion of the head, without any warmth or cordiality. Cold-moving is the same as coldly-moving. So perpetual sober gods, for perpetually sober; lazy-pacing clouds,—loving-jealous— flattering sweet, &c. Such distant and uncourteous salutations are properly termed cold-moving, as proceeding from a cold and unfriendly disposition. Malone.

Note return to page 703 6Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:] Hereditary, for by natural constitution. But some distempers of natural constitution being called hereditary, he calls their ingratitude so. Warburton.

Note return to page 704 7And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.] The same thought occurs in The Wife for a Month, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Beside, the fair soul's old too, it grows covetous, “Which shows all honour is departed from us, “And we are earth again.” &lblank; pariterque senescere mentem. Lucret. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 705 8&lblank; ingeniously &lblank;] Ingenious was anciently used instead of ingenuous. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “A course of learning and ingenious studies.” Reed.

Note return to page 706 9Bid him suppose, some good necessity Touches his friend,] Good, as it may afford Ventidius an opportunity of exercising his bounty, and relieving his friend, in return for his former kindness:—or, some honest necessity, not the consequence of a villainous and ignoble bounty. I rather think this latter is the meaning. Malone. So afterwards: “If his occasion were not virtuous, “I should not urge it half so faithfully.” Steevens.

Note return to page 707 1I would, I could not think it, &c.] I concur in opinion with some other editors, that the words—think it, should be omitted. Every reader will mentally insert them from the speech of Timon, though they are not expressed in that of Flavius. The laws of metre, in my judgment, should supersede the authority of the players, who appear in many instances to have taken a designed ellipsis for an error of omission, to the repeated injury of our author's versification. I would read: “I would, I could not: That thought's bounty foe &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 708 2&lblank; free &lblank;] Is liberal, not parsimonious. Johnson.

Note return to page 709 3&lblank; a silver bason and ewer &lblank;] A bason and ewer seem to have been furniture of which much account was made in our author's time. They were usually of silver, and probably the fashion of these articles was more particularly attended to, because they were regularly exhibited to the guests before and after dinner, it being the custom to wash the hands at both those times. See vol. v. p. 466. So, in The Taming of the Shrew, vol. v. p. 429: “&lblank; my house within the city “Is richly furnished with plate and gold; “Basons and ewers to lave her dainty hands.” So, also, in The Returne from Parnassus: “Immerito his gifts have appeared in as many coloures, as the rayn-bowe, first to maister Amoretto in colour of the sattine suite he weares: to my lady in the similitude of a loose gowne: to my maister in the likenesse of a silver bason and ewer.” Malone.

Note return to page 710 4&lblank; very respectively welcome, sir.] i. e. respecfully. So, in King John, Act I. Sc. I.: “'Tis too respective, and too sociable.” Steevens.

Note return to page 711 5Every man has his fault, and honesty is his;] Honesty does not here mean probity, but liberality. M. Mason.

Note return to page 712 6&lblank; three solidares &lblank;] I believe this coin is from the mind of the poet. Steevens.

Note return to page 713 7And we alive, that liv'd?] i. e. And we who were alive then, alive now. As much as to say, in so short a time. Warburton.

Note return to page 714 8Let molten coin be thy damnation,] Perhaps the poet alludes to the punishment inflicted on M. Aquilius by Mithridates. In The Shepherd's Calendar, however, Lazarus declares himself to have seen in hell “a great number of wide cauldrons and kettles, full of boyling lead and oyle, with other hot metals molten, in the which were plunged and dipped the covetous men and women, for to fulfill and replenish them of their insatiate covetise.” Again, in an ancient bl. l. ballad, entitled, The Dead Man's Song: “And ladles full of melted gold “Were poured downe their throotes.” Mr. M. Mason thinks that Flaminius more “probably alludes to the story of Marcus Crassus and the Parthians, who are said to have poured molten gold down his throat, as a reproach and punishment for his avarice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 9Thou disease of a friend,] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; my daughter; “Or rather, a disease,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 1It turns in less than two nights?] Alluding to the turning or acescence of milk. Johnson.

Note return to page 717 2&lblank; passion!] i. e. suffering. So, in Macbeth: “You shall offend him, and extend his passion.” i. e. prolong his suffering. Steevens.

Note return to page 718 3Unto his honour,] Thus the old copy. What Flaminius seems to mean is,—This slave (to the honour of his character) has, &c. The modern editors read—Unto this hour, which may be right. Steevens. I should have no doubt in preferring the modern reading, “unto this hour,” as it is by far the stronger expression, so probably the right one. M. Mason. Mr. Ritson is of the same opinion. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 4&lblank; to death,] If these words, which derange the metre, were omitted, would the sentiment of Flaminius be impaired? Steevens.

Note return to page 720 5&lblank; of nature &lblank;] So the common copies. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—nurture. Johnson. Of nature is surely the most expressive reading. Flaminius considers that nutriment which Lucullus had for a length of time received at Timon's table, as constituting a great part of his animal system. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 6&lblank; his hour!] i. e. the hour of sickness. His for its. Steevens. His in almost every scene of these plays is used for its, but here, I think, “his hour” relates to Lucullus, and means his life. If my notion be well founded, we must understand that the Steward wishes that the life of Lucullus may be prolonged only for the purpose of his being miserable; that sickness may “play the torturer by small and small,” and “have him nine whole years in killing.”—“Live loath'd and long!” says Timon in a subsequent scene; and again: “Decline to your confounding contraries, “And yet confusion live!” This indeed is nearly the meaning, if, with Mr. Steevens, we understand “his hour” to mean “the hour of sickness:” and it must be owned that a line in Hamlet adds support to the interpretation: “This physick but prolongs thy sickly days.” Malone. Mr. Malone's interpretation may receive further support from a passage in Coriolanus, where Menenius says to the Roman Sentinel: “Be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age.” Steevens.

Note return to page 722 7We know him for no less,] That is, ‘we know him by report to be no less than you represent him, though we are strangers to his person.’ Johnson. To know, in the present, and several other instances, is used by our author for—to acknowledge. So, in Coriolanus, Act V. Sc. V.: “&lblank; You are to know “That prosperously I have attempted, and “With bloody passage led your wars &lblank;.” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 723 8&lblank; to borrow so many talents;] Such is the reading of the old copy. The modern editors read arbitrarily—“fifty talents.” So many is not an uncommon colloquial expression for an indefinite number. The Stranger might not know the exact sum. Steevens. So, Queen Elizabeth to one of her parliaments: “And for me it shall be sufficient that a marble stone declare that a queen having reigned such a time, [i. e. the time that she should have reigned, whatever time that might happen to be,] lived and died a virgin.” So, Holinshed: “The bishop commanded his servant to bring him the book bound in white vellum, lying in his study, in such a place.” We should now write in a certain place. Again, in the Account-book, kept by Empson in the time of Henry the Seventh, and quoted by Bacon in his History of that king: “Item, Received of such a one five marks, for a pardon to be procured, and if the pardon do not pass, the money to be re-paid.” “He sold so much of his estate, when he came of age,” (meaning a certain portion of his estate,) is yet the phraseology of Scotland. Malone.

Note return to page 724 9&lblank; yet, had he mistook him, and sent to me,] We should read mislook'd him, i. e. overlooked, neglected to send to him. Warburton. I rather read, “yet had he not mistook him, and sent to me.” Johnson. Mr. Edwards proposes to read—“yet had he missed him.” Lucius has just declared that he had had fewer presents from Timon, than Lucullus had received, who therefore ought to be the first to assist him. Yet, says he, had Timon mistook him, or overlooked that circumstance, and sent to me, I should not have denied, &c. Steevens. That is, ‘had he (Timon) mistaken himself and sent to me, I would ne'er,’ &c. He means to insinuate that it would have been a kind of mistake in Timon to apply to a person who had received such trifling favours from him, in preference to Lucullus, who had received much greater; but if Timon had made that mistake, he should not have denied him so many talents. M. Mason. “Had he mistook him,” means, ‘had he by mistake thought him under less obligations than me, and sent to me accordingly.’ Heath. I think with Mr. Steevens that him relates to Timon, and that mistook him is a reflective verb: had he mistook himself, or been mistaken. Malone.

Note return to page 725 2&lblank; denied his occasion so many talents.] i. e. a certain number of talents, such a number as he might happen to want. This passage, as well as a former, (see n. 8, p. 316,) shows that the text below is not corrupt. Malone.

Note return to page 726 3&lblank; with so many talents.] Such again is the reading with which the old copy supplies us. Probably the exact number of talents wanted was not expressly set down by Shakspeare. If this was the case, the player who represented the character, spoke of the first number that was uppermost in his mind; and the printer, who copied from the playhouse books, put down an indefinite for the definite sum which remained unspecified. The modern editors read again in this instance, fifty talents. Perhaps the Servant brought a note with him which he tendered to Lucullus. Steevens. There is, I am confident, no error. I have met with this kind of phraseology in many books of Shakspeare's age. In Julius Cæsar, we have the phrase used here. Lucilius says to his adversary: “There is so much, that thou will kill me straight.” Malone.

Note return to page 727 4If his occasion were not virtuous,] Virtuous, for strong, forcible, pressing. Warburton. The meaning may more naturally be—‘If he did not want it for a good use.’ Johnson. Dr. Johnson's explication is certainly right.—We had before: “Some good necessity touches his friend.” Malone.

Note return to page 728 5&lblank; half so faithfully.] Faithfully, for fervently. Therefore, without more ado, the Oxford editor alters the text to fervently. But he might have seen, that Shakspeare used faithfully for fervently, as in the former part of the sentence he had used virtuous for forcible. Warburton. Zeal or fervour usually attending fidelity. Malone.

Note return to page 729 6That I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour?] Though there is a seeming plausible antithesis in the terms, I am very well assured they are corrupt at the bottom. For a little part of what? Honour is the only substantive that follows in the sentence. How much is the antithesis improved by the sense which my emendation gives? “That I should purchase for a little dirt, and undo a great deal of honour!” Theobald. This emendation is received, like all others, by Sir Thomas Hanmer, but neglected by Dr. Warburton. I think Theobald right in suspecting a corruption; nor is his emendation injudicious, though perhaps we may better read, “purchase the day before for a little park.” Johnson. I am satisfied with the old reading, which is sufficiently in our author's manner. ‘By purchasing what brought me but little honour, I have lost the more honourable opportunity of supplying the wants of my friend.’ Dr. Farmer, however, suspects a quibble between honour in its common acceptation, and honour (i. e. the lordship of a place,) in a legal sense. See Jacob's Dictionary. Steevens. I am neither satisfied with the amendments proposed, or with Steevens's explanation of the present reading; and have little doubt but we should read “purchase for a little port,” instead of part, and the meaning will be—“How unlucky was I to have purchased but the day before, out of a little vanity, and by that means disabled myself from doing an honourable action.” Port means show, or magnificence. M. Mason. I believe Dr. Johnson's reading is the true one. I once suspected the phrase “purchase for;” but a more attentive examination of our author's works and those of his contemporaries, has shown me the folly of suspecting corruptions in the text, merely because it exhibits a different phraseology from that used at this day. Malone.

Note return to page 730 7Do you observe this, Hostilius?] I am willing to believe, for the sake of metre, that our author wrote: “Observe you this, Hostilius? “Ay, too well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 731 8&lblank; flatterer's spirit.] This is Dr. Warburton's emendation. The other [modern] editions read: “Why, this is the world's soul; “And just of the same piece is every flatterer's sport.” Mr. Upton has not unluckily transposed the two final words, thus: “Why, this is the world's sport; “Of the same piece is every flatterer's soul.” The passage is not so obscure as to provoke so much enquiry. “This,” says he, “is the soul or spirit of the world: every flatterer plays the same game, makes sport with the confidence of his friend.” Johnson. Mr. M. Mason prefers the amendment of Dr. Warburton to the transposition of Mr. Upton. Steevens. The emendation, spirit, belongs not to Dr. Warburton, but to Mr. Theobald. The word was frequently pronounced as one syllable, and sometimes, I think, written sprite. Hence the corruption was easy; whilst on the other hand it is highly improbable that two words so distant from each other as soul and sport [or spirit] should change places. Mr. Upton did not take the trouble to look into the old copy; but finding soul and sport the final words of two lines in Mr. Pope's and the subsequent editions, took it for granted they held the same situation in the original edition, which we see was not the case. I do not believe this speech was intended by the author for a verse. Malone. After all, the reading of the old copy has not been mentioned. It is thus arranged: “Why, this is the world's soul; “And just of the same piece “Is every flatterer's sport,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 732 9&lblank; that dips in the same dish?] This phrase is scriptural: “He that dippeth his hand with me in the same dish.” St. Matthew, xxvi. 23. Steevens.

Note return to page 733 1&lblank; in respect of his,] i. e. considering Timon's claim for what he asks. Warburton. “In respect of his” fortune: what Lucius denies to Timon is in proportion to what Lucius possesses, less than the usual alms given by good men to beggars. Johnson. Does not his refer to the lip of Timon?—Though Lucius himself drink from a silver cup which was Timon's gift to him, he refuses to Timon, in return, drink from any cup. Henley.

Note return to page 734 2I would have put my wealth into donation, And the best half should have return'd to him,] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “I would have put my wealth into partition, “And the best half should have attorn'd to him, &lblank;” Dr. Warburton receives attorn'd. The only difficulty is in the word return'd, which, since he had receiv'd nothing from him, cannot be used but in a very low and licentious meaning. Johnson. ‘Had his necessity made use of me, I would have put my fortune into a condition to be alienated, and the best half of what I had gained myself, or received from others, should have found its way to him.’ Either such licentious exposition must be allowed, or the passage remain in obscurity, as some readers may not choose to receive Sir Thomas Hanmer's emendation. The following lines, however, in Hamlet, Act II. Sc. II. persuades me that my explanation of—“put my wealth into donation” —is somewhat doubtful: “Put your dread pleasures more into command “Than to entreaty.” Again, in Cymbeline, Act. III. Sc. IV. vol. xiii. p. 121: “And mad'st me put into contempt the suits “Of princely fellows,” &c. Perhaps the Stranger means to say, I would have treated my wealth as a present originally received from him, and on this occasion have returned him the half of that whole for which I supposed myself to be indebted to his bounty. Lady Macbeth has nearly the same sentiment: “&lblank; in compt “To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, “Still to return your own.” Steevens. The difficulty of this passage arises from the word return'd. Warburton proposes to read attorn'd; but that word always relates to persons, not to things. It is the tenant that attorns, not the lands. The meaning of the passage appears to be this:— “Though I never tasted of Timon's bounty, yet I have such an esteem for his virtue, that had he applied to me, I should have considered my wealth as proceeding from his donation, and have returned half of it to him again.” To put his wealth into donation, means, to put it down in account as a donation, to suppose it a donation. M. Mason. I have no doubt that the latter very happy interpretation given by Mr. Steevens is the true one, ‘Though’ (says the speaker) ‘I never tasted Timon's bounty in my life, I would have supposed my whole fortune to have been a gift from him,’ &c. So, in the common phrase,—Put yourself [i. e. suppose yourself] in my place. The passages quoted by Mr. Steevens fully support the phrase—into donation. “Return'd to him” necessarily includes the idea of having come from him, and therefore can not mean simply—found its way, the interpretation first given by Mr. Steevens. Malone. I am dissatisfied with my former explanation; which arose from my inattention to a sense in which our author very frequently uses the verb to return; i. e. to reply. Thus in King Richard II.: “Northumberland, say—thus the king returns;—” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Returns to chiding fortune:” i. e. replies to it. Again, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; The Dauphin “Returns us—that his powers are not yet ready.” The sense of the passage before us therefore will be:—‘The best half of my wealth should have been the reply I would have made to Timon: I would have answered his requisition with the best half of what I am worth.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 735 3And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeem'd from prison,] This circumstance likewise occurs in the anonymous unpublished comedy of Timon: “O yee ingrateful! have I freed yee “From bonds in prison, to requite me thus, “To trample ore mee in my misery?” Malone.

Note return to page 736 4&lblank; these three &lblank;] The word three was inserted by Sir T. Hanmer to complete the measure; as was the exclamation O, for the same reason, in the following speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 737 5They have all been touch'd,] That is tried, alluding to the touchstone. Johnson. So, in King Richard III.: “O Buckingham, now I do play the touch, “To try, if thou be current gold, indeed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 738 6Has Ventidius, &c.] With this mutilated and therefore rugged speech no ear accustomed to harmony can be satisfied. Sir Thomas Hanmer thus reforms the first part of it: “Have Lucius and Ventidius, and Lucullus, “Denied him all? and does he send to me?” Yet we might better, I think, read with a later editor: “Denied him, say you? and does he send to me? “Three? humph! “It shows,” &c. But I can only point out metrical dilapidations which I profess my inability to repair. Steevens.

Note return to page 739 7&lblank; His friends, like physicians, Thrive, give him over;] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, try'd, plausibly enough. Instead of three proposed by Mr. Pope, I should read thrice. But perhaps the old reading is the true. Johnson. Perhaps we should read—shriv'd. They “give him over shriv'd;” that is ‘prepared for immediate death by shrift.’ Tyrwhitt. Perhaps the following passage in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, is the best comment after all: “&lblank; Physicians thus “With their hands full of money, use to give o'er “Their patients.” The passage will then mean:—“His friends, like physicians, thrive by his bounty and fees, and either relinquish and forsake him, or give his case up as desperate.” To give over in The Taming of the Shrew, has no reference to the irremediable condition of a patient, but simply means to leave, to forsake, to quit: “And therefore let me be thus bold with you “To give you over at this first encounter, “Unless you will accompany me thither.” Steevens. The editor of the second folio, the first and principal corrupter of these plays, for Thrive, substituted Thriv'd, on which the conjectures of Sir Thomas Hanmer and Mr. Tyrwhitt were founded. The passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from The Dutchess of Malfy, is a strong confirmation of the old reading; for Webster appears both in that and in another piece of his (The White Devil) to have frequently imitated Shakspeare. Thus in The Dutchess of Malfy, we find: “&lblank; Use me well, you were best; “What I have done, I have done; I'll confess nothing.” Apparently from Othello: “Demand me nothing; what you know, you know; “From this time forth I never will speak word.” Again, the Cardinal, speaking to his mistress Julia, who had importuned him to disclose the cause of his melancholy, says: “&lblank; Satisfy thy longing; “The only way to make thee keep thy counsel, “Is, not to tell thee.” So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; for secrecy “No lady closer; for I well believe “Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.” Again, in The White Devil: “Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils.” So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; 'tis the eye of childhood “That fears a painted devil.” Again, in The White Devil: “&lblank; the secret of my prince, “Which I will wear i'th' inside of my heart.” Copied, I think, from these lines of Hamlet: “&lblank; Give me the man “That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him “In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart.” The White Devil was not printed till 1612. Hamlet had appeared in 1604. See also another imitation quoted in a note on Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. III.; and the last scene of the fourth Act of The Dutchess of Malfy, which seems to have been copied from our author's King John, Act IV. Sc. II. The Dutchess of Malfy had certainly appeared before 1619, for Burbage, who died in that year, acted in it; I believe, before 1616, for I imagine it is the play alluded to in Ben Jonson's Prologue to Every Man in his Humour, printed in that year: “To make a child new-swaddled to proceed “Man,” &c. So that probably the lines above cited from Webster's play by Mr. Steevens, were copied from Timon before it was in print; for it first appeared in the folio, 1623. Hence we may conclude, that thrive was not an error of the press, but our author's original word, which Webster imitated, not from the printed book, but from the representation of the play, or the MS. copy. It is observable, that in this piece of Webster's, the duchess, who like Desdemona is strangled, revives after long seeming dead, speaks a few words, and then dies. Malone.

Note return to page 740 8And I amongst the lords be thought a fool.] [Old copy— “and 'mongst lords be thought a fool.”] The personal pronoun was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone. I have changed the position of the personal pronoun, and added the for the sake of metre, which, in too many parts of this play, is incorrigible. Steevens.

Note return to page 741 9I had such a courage &lblank;] Such an ardour, such an eager desire. Johnson.

Note return to page 742 1Excellent, &c.] I suppose the former part of this speech to have been originally written in verse, as well as the latter; though the players have printed it as prose (omitting several syllables necessary to the metre): it cannot now be restored without such additions as no editor is at liberty to insert in the text. Steevens. I suspect no omission whatsoever here. Malone.

Note return to page 743 2The devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick: he crossed himself by't: and I cannot think, but, in the end, the villainies of man will set him clear.] I cannot but think, that the negative not has intruded into this passage, and the reader will think so too, when he reads Dr. Warburton's explanation of the next words. Johnson. “&lblank; will set him clear.” Set him clear does not mean acquit him before heaven; for then the devil must be supposed to know what he did; but it signifies puzzle him, outdo him at his own weapons. Warburton. How the devil, or any other being, should be set clear by being puzzled and outdone, the commentator has not explained. When in a croud we would have an opening made, we say, “Stand clear,” that is, “out of the way of danger.” With some affinity to this use, though not without great harshness, to set clear, may be to set aside. But I believe the original corruption is the insertion of the negative, which was obtruded by some transcriber, who supposed crossed to mean thwarted, when it meant, exempted from evil. The use of crossing by way of protection or purification, was probably not worn out in Shakspeare's time. The sense of set clear is now easy; he has no longer the guilt of tempting man. To “cross himself” may mean, in a very familiar sense, “to clear his score, to get out of debt, to quit his reckoning.” He knew not what he did, may mean, he knew not how much good he was doing himself. There is no need of emendation. Johnson. Perhaps Dr. Warburton's explanation is the true one. Clear is an adverb, or so used; and Dr. Johnson's Dictionary observes, that to set means, in Addison, to embarrass, to distress, to perplex. —If then the devil made men politick, he has thwarted his own interest, because the superior cunning of man will at last puzzle him, or be above the reach of his temptations. Tollet. Johnson's explanation of this passage is nearly right; but I don't see how the insertion of the negative injures the sense, or why that should be considered as a corruption. Servilius means to say, that the devil did not foresee the advantage that would arise to himself from thence, when he made men politick. He redeemed himself by it; for men will, in the end, become so much more villainous than he is, that they will set him clear; he will appear innocent when compared to them. Johnson has rightly explained the words, “he crossed himself by it.”—So, in Cymbeline, Posthumus says of himself— “&lblank; It is I “That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend, “By being worse than they.” M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is this:—“The devil did not know what he was about, [how much his reputation for wickedness would be diminished] when he made men crafty and interested; he thwarted himself by it; [by thus raising up rivals to contend with him in iniquity, and at length to surpass him;] and I cannot but think that at last the enormities of mankind will rise to such a height, as to make even Satan himself, in comparison, appear (what he would least of all wish to be) spotless and innocent.” Clear is in many other places used by our author and the contemporary writers, for innocent. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; nothing but heart's sorrow, “And a clear life ensuing.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; This Duncan “Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been “So clear in his great office &lblank;.” Again, in the play before us: “Roots, ye clear gods!” Again, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, 1657: “&lblank; I know myself am clear “As is the new-born infant.” Malone. The devil's folly in making man politick, is to appear in this, that he will at the long run be too many for his old master, and get free of his bonds. The villainies of man are to set himself clear, not the devil, to whom he is supposed to be in thraldom. Ritson. Concerning this difficult passage, I claim no other merit than that of having left before the reader the notes of all the commentators. I myself am in the state of Dr. Warburton's devil,— puzzled, instead of being set clear by them. Steevens.

Note return to page 744 3&lblank; takes virtuous copies to be wicked; like those, &c.] This is a reflection on the Puritans of that time. These people were then set upon the project of new-modelling the ecclesiastical and civil government according to scripture rules and examples; which makes him say, that under zeal for the word of God, they would set whole realms on fire. So, Sempronius pretended to that warm affection and generous jealousy of friendship, that is affronted, if any other be applied to before it. At best the similitude is an aukward one; but it fitted the audience, though not the speaker. Warburton.

Note return to page 745 4Save the gods only:] Old copy—“Save only the gods.” The transposition is Sir Thomas Hanmer's.” Steevens.

Note return to page 746 5&lblank; keep his house.] i. e. keep within doors for fear of duns. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure, Act III. Sc. II.: “You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.” Steevens.

Note return to page 747 6&lblank; a prodigal course Is like the sun's;] That is, like him in blaze and splendor. Soles occidere et redire possunt. Catull. Johnson. Theobald, and the subsequent editors, elegantly enough, but without necessity, read—“a prodigal's course.” We have the same phrase as that in the text in the last couplet of the preceding scene: “And this is all a liberal course allows.” Malone.

Note return to page 748 7&lblank; reach deep enough, and yet Find little.] Still, perhaps, alluding to the effects of winter, during which some animals are obliged to seek their scanty provision through a depth of snow. Steevens.

Note return to page 749 8I am weary of this charge,] That is, of this commission, of this employment. Johnson.

Note return to page 750 9Else, surely, his had equall'd.] Should it not be, “Else, surely, mine had equall'd.” Johnson. The meaning of the passage is evidently and simply this: “Your master, it seems, had more confidence in lord Timon than mine, otherwise his (i. e. my master's) debt (i. e. the money due to him from Timon) would certainly have been as great as your master's (i. e. as the money which Timon owes to your master;)” that is, my master being as rich as yours, could and would have advanced Timon as large a sum as your master has advanced him, if he, (my master) had thought it prudent to do so. Ritson. The meaning may be, “The confidential friendship subsisting between your master [Lucius] and Timon was greater than that subsisting between my master [Varro] and Timon; else surely the sum borrowed by Timon from your master had been equal to, and no greater than, the sum borrowed from mine; and this equality would have been produced by the application made to my master being raised from three thousand crowns to five thousand.” Two sums of unequal magnitude may be reduced to an equality, as well by addition to the lesser sum, as by subtraction from the greater. Thus, if A has applied to B for ten pounds, and to C for five, and C requests that he may lend A precisely the same sum as he shall be furnished with by B, this may be done, either by C's augmenting his loan, and lending ten pounds as well as B, or by B's diminishing his loan, and, like C, lending only five pounds. The words of Varro's servant therefore may mean, ‘Else surely the same sums had been borrowed by Timon from both our masters.’ I have preserved this interpretation, because I once thought it probable, and because it may strike others as just. But the true explication I believe is this (which I also formerly proposed). His may refer to mine. “It should seem that the confident friendship subsisting between your master and Timon, was greater than that subsisting between Timon and my master; else surely his sum, i. e. the sum borrowed from my master, [the last antecedent] had been as large as the sum borrowed from yours.” The former interpretation (though I think it wrong,) I have stated thus precisely, and exactly in substance as it appeared several years ago, (though the expression is a little varied,) because a Remarker [Mr. Ritson] has endeavoured to represent it as unintelligible. This Remarker, however, after a feeble attempt at jocularity, (to which our great satirist tells us, such criticks are much addicted,) and it is observable, saying, that he shall take no notice of such see-saw conjectures, with great gravity proposes a comment evidently formed on the latter of them, as an original interpretation of his own, on which the reader may safely rely. Malone. It must be perfectly clear, that the Remarker could not be indebted to a note which, so far as it is intelligible, seems diametrically opposite to his idea. It is equally so, that the editor [Mr. Malone] has availed himself of the above Remark, to vary the expression of his conjecture, and give it a sense it would otherwise never have had. Ritson.

Note return to page 751 1If 'twill not,] Old copy—If 'twill not serve. I have ventured to omit the useless repetition of the verb—serve, because it injures the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 2Enter Servilius.] It may be observed that Shakspeare has unskilfully filled his Greek story with Roman names. Johnson.

Note return to page 753 3&lblank; I should much Derive from it, &c.] Old copy: “&lblank; I should “Derive much from it,” &c. For this slight transposition, by which the metre is restored, I am answerable. Steevens. I have printed these two speeches as prose, according to the old copy. Boswell.

Note return to page 754 4&lblank; for an answer,] The article an, which is deficient in the old copy, was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 5Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord.] In the old copy this speech is given to Varro. I have given it to the servant of Hortensius, (who would naturally prefer his claim among the rest,) because to the following speech in the old copy is prexfied, 2 Var. which from the words spoken [And ours, my lord,] meant, I conceive, “the two servants of Varro.” In the modern editions this latter speech is given to Caphis, who is not upon the stage. Malone. This whole scene perhaps was strictly metrical, when it came from Shakspeare; but the present state of it is such, that it cannot be restored but by greater violence than an editor may be allowed to employ. I have therefore given it without the least attempt at arrangement. Steevens.

Note return to page 756 6Knock me down with 'em.] Timon quibbles. They present their written bills; he catches at the word, and alludes to the bills or battle-axes, which the ancient soldiery carried, and were still used by the watch in Shakspeare's time. See the scene between Dogberry, &c. in Much Ado About Nothing. vol. vii. p. 87, n. 1. Again, in Heywood's If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody, 1633, Second Part, Sir John Gresham says to his creditors: “Friends, you cannot beat me down with your bills.” Again, in Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; they durst not strike down their customers with large bills.” Steevens.

Note return to page 757 7So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius; all: I'll once more feast the rascals.] Thus the second folio; except that, by an apparent error of the press, we have—add instead of and. The first folio reads: “Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: all, “I'll once more feast the rascals.” Regularity of metre alone would be sufficient to decide in favour of the present text, which, with the second folio, rejects the fortuitous and unmeaning aggregate of letters—Ullorxa. This Ullorxa, however, seems to have been considered as one of the “inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,” which “emblaze the forehead” of that august publication, the folio 1623; and has been set, with becoming care, in the text of Mr. Malone. For my own part, like the cock in the fable, I am content to leave this gem on the stercoraceous spot where it was discovered.—Ullorxa (a name unacknowledged by Athens or Rome) must (if meant to have been introduced at all) have been a corruption as gross as others that occur in the same book, where we find Billinsgate instead of Basing-stoke; Epton instead of Hyperion; and an ace instead of Até. Types, indeed, shook out of a hat, or shot from a dice-box, would often assume forms as legitimate as the proper names transmitted to us by Messieurs Hemings, Condell, and Co. who very probably did not accustom themselves to spell even their own appellations with accuracy, or always in the same manner. Steevens. As Mr. Malone has taken no notice of these observations, I conclude that he meant to retain the word Ullorxa. It is certainly corrupt; but amputation is the last remedy to which we should resort. Boswell.

Note return to page 758 8&lblank; shall bruise him.] The old copy reads—shall bruise 'em. The same mistake has happened often in these plays. In a subsequent line in this scene we have in the old copy—with him, instead of—with 'em. For the correction, which is fully justified by the context, I am answerable. Malone. Sir Thomas Hanmer also reads—bruise him. Steevens.

Note return to page 759 9&lblank; setting his fate aside,] i. e. putting this action of his, which was pre-determined by fate, out of the question. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 1He is a man, &c.] I have printed these lines after the original copy, except that, for an honour, it is there, and honour, All the latter editions deviate unwarrantably from the original, and give the lines thus: “He is a man, setting his fault aside, “Of virtuous honour, which buys out his fault; “Nor did he soil,” &c. Johnson. This licentious alteration of the text, with a thousand others of the same kind, was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 761 2And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent, &c.] Unnoted for common, bounded. Behave, for curb, manage. Warburton. I would rather read: “&lblank; and unnoted passion “He did behave, ere was his anger spent.” Unnoted passion means, I believe, an uncommon command of his passion, such a one as has not hitherto been observed. “Behave his anger,” may, however, be right. In Sir W. D'Avenant's play of The Just Italian, 1630, behave is used in as singular a manner: “How well my stars behave their influence.” Again: “&lblank; You an Italian, sir, and thus “Behave the knowledge of disgrace!” In both these instances, to behave is to manage. Steevens. “Unnoted passion,” I believe, means a passion operating inwardly, but not accompanied with any external or boisterous appearances; so regulated and subdued, that no spectator could note, or observe, its operation. The old copy reads—He did behoove, &c. which does not afford any very clear meaning. Behave, which Dr. Warburton interprets manage, was introduced by Mr. Rowe. I doubt the text is not yet right. Our author so very frequently converts nouns into verbs, that I have sometimes thought he might have written— “He did behalve his anger,”—i. e. suppress it. So, Milton: “&lblank; yet put he not forth all his strength, “But check'd it mid-way.” Behave, however, is used by Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, b. i. c. iii. in a sense that will suit sufficiently with the passage before us: “But who his limbs with labours, and his mind “Behaves with cares, cannot so easy miss.” To behave certainly had formerly a very different signification from that in which it is now used. Cole, in his Dictionary, 1679, renders it by tracto, which he interprets to govern, or manage. Malone. On second consideration, the sense of this passage, (however perversely expressed on account of rhyme,) may be this: “He managed his anger with such sober and unnoted passion [i. e. suffering, forbearance,] before it was spent, [i. e. before that disposition to endure the insult he had received, was exhausted,] that it seemed as if he had been only engaged in supporting an argument he had advanced in conversation. Passion may as well be used to signify suffering, as any violent commotion of the mind: and that our author was aware of this, may be inferred from his introduction of the Latin phrase—“hysterica passio,” in King Lear. See also vol. xii. p. 13, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 762 3You undergo too strict a paradox,] You undertake a paradox too hard. Johnson.

Note return to page 763 4&lblank; that man can breathe;] i. e. can utter. So afterwards: “You breathe in vain.” Malone. Again, in Hamlet: “Having ever seen, in the prenominate crimes, “The youth you breathe of, guilty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 764 5&lblank; threatnings?] Old copy—threats. This slight, but judicious change, is Sir Thomas Hanmer's. In the next line but one, he also added, for the sake of metre,—but—. Steevens.

Note return to page 765 6&lblank; what make we Abroad?] What do we, or what have we to do in the field. Johnson. See vol. viii. p. 150, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 766 7And th' ass, more captain than the lion, &c.] Here is another arbitrary regulation [the omission of—captain]: the original reads thus: “&lblank; what make we “Abroad? why then, women are more valiant “That stay at home, if bearing carry it: “And the ass, more captain than the lion, “The fellow, loaden with irons, wiser than the judge, “If wisdom,” &c. I think it may be better adjusted thus: “&lblank; what make we “Abroad? why then the women are more valiant “That stay at home; “If bearing carry it, then is the ass “More captain than the lion; and the felon “Loaden with irons, wiser,” &c. Johnson. “&lblank; if bearing carry it:” Dr. Johnson when he proposed to connect this hemistich with the following line instead of the preceding words, seems to have forgot one of our author's favourite propensities. I have no doubt that the present arrangement is right. Mr. Pope, who rejected whatever he did not like, omitted the words—“more captain.” They are supported by what Alcibiades has already said: “My lords, then, under favour, pardon me, “If I speak like a captain &lblank;.” and by Shakspeare's 66th Sonnet, where the word captain is used with at least as much harshness as in the text: “And captive good attending captain ill.” Again, in another of his Sonnets: “Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, “Or captain jewels in the carkanet.” Dr. Johnson with great probability proposes to read felon instead of fellow. Malone. The word captain has been very injudiciously restored. That it cannot be the author's is evident from its spoiling what will otherwise be a metrical line. Nor is his using it elsewhere any proof that he meant to use it here. Ritson. I have not scrupled to insert Dr. Johnson's emendation, felon, for fellow in the text; but do not perceive how the line can become strictly metrical by the omission of the word—captain, unless, with Sir Thomas Hanmer, we transpose the conjunction—and, and read: “The ass more than the lion, and the felon &lblank;.” Steevens. Fellow is a common term of contempt. Boswell.

Note return to page 767 8&lblank; sin's extremest gust;] Gust, for aggravation. Warburton. Gust is here in its common sense: the utmost degree of appetite for sin. Johnson. I believe gust means rashness. The allusion may be to a sudden gust of wind. Steevens. So we say, it was done in a sudden gust of passion. Malone.

Note return to page 768 9&lblank; by mercy, 'tis most just.] By mercy is meant equity. But we must read: “&lblank; 'tis made just.” Warburton. Mercy is not put for equity. If such explanation be allowed, what can be difficult? The meaning is, ‘I call mercy herself to witness, that defensive violence is just.’ Johnson. The meaning, I think, is, ‘Homicide in our own defence, by a merciful and lenient interpretation of the laws, is considered as justifiable.’ Malone. Dr. Johnson's explanation is the more spirited; but a passage in King John should seem to countenance that of Mr. Malone: “Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, “And so doth yours &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 769 1Why, I say,] The personal pronoun was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 770 2&lblank; with 'em,] The folio—with him. Johnson. The correction was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 771 3Is a sworn rioter:] A sworn rioter is a man who practises riot, as if he had by an oath made it his duty. Johnson. The expression a sworn rioter, seems to be similar to that of sworn brothers. See Henry V. Act. II. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 772 4&lblank; alone &lblank;] This word was judiciously supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer to complete the measure. Thus, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; Good alone “Is good &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 773 5&lblank; your reverend ages love Security, I'll pawn, &c.] He charges them obliquely with being usurers. Johnson. So afterwards: “&lblank; banish usury “That makes the senate ugly.” Malone.

Note return to page 774 6&lblank; remembrances.] Is here used as a word of five syllables. In the singular number it occurs as a quadrisyllable only. See Twelfth-Night, Act I. Sc. I.: “And lasting in her sad remembrance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 775 7I should prove so base,] Base, for dishonoured. Warburton.

Note return to page 776 8Do you dare our anger? 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect;] This reading may pass, but perhaps the author wrote: “&lblank; our anger? “'Tis few in words, but spacious in effect.” Johnson.

Note return to page 777 9And, not to swell our spirit,] I believe, means ‘not to put ourselves into any tumour of rage, take our definitive resolution.’ So, in King Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. I.: “The hearts of princes kiss obedience, “So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits, “They swell and grow as terrible as storms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 778 1&lblank; ha! banishment?] Thus the second folio. Its ever-blundering predecessor omits the interjection ha! and consequently spoils the metre.—The same exclamation occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “Ha! banishment? be merciful, say—death &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 779 2&lblank; and lay for hearts. 'Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds;] But surely even in a soldier's sense of honour, there is very little in being at odds with all about him; which shows rather a quarrelsome disposition than a valiant one. Besides, this was not Alcibiades's case. He was only fallen out with the Athenians. A phrase in the foregoing line will direct us to the right reading. “I will lay,” says he, “for hearts;” which is a metaphor taken from card-play, and signifies to game deep and boldly. It is plain then the figure was continued in the following line, which should be read thus: “'Tis honour with most hands to be at odds;” i. e. to fight upon odds, or at disadvantage; as he must do against the united strength of Athens; and this, by soldiers, is accounted honourable. Shakspeare uses the same metaphor on the same occasion, in Coriolanus: “He lurch'd all swords.” Warburton. I think hands is very properly substituted for lands. In the foregoing line, for, lay for hearts, I would read play for hearts. Johnson. I do not conceive that to lay for hearts is a metaphor taken from card play, or that lay should be changed into play. We should now say, to lay out for hearts, i. e. the affections of the people; but lay is used singly, as it is here, by Jonson, in The Devil is an Ass, [Mr. Whalley's edition] vol. iv. p. 33: “Lay for some pretty principality.” Tyrwhitt. A kindred expression occurs in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, 1657: “He takes up Spanish hearts on trust, to pay them “When he shall finger Castile's crown. Malone. “'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds;” I think, with Dr. Johnson, that lands cannot be right. To assert that it is honourable to fight with the greatest part of the world, is very wild. I believe, therefore, our author meant that Alcibiades in his spleen against the Senate, from whom alone he has received any injury, should say: “'Tis honour with most lords to be at odds. Malone. I adhere to the old reading. It is surely more honourable to wrangle for a score of kingdoms, (as Miranda expresses it,) than to enter into quarrels with lords, or any other private adversaries. Steevens. The objection to the old reading still in my apprehension remains. It is not difficult for him who is so inclined, to quarrel with a lord; (or with any other person;) but not so easy to be at odds with his land. Neither does the observation just made, prove that it is honourable to quarrel, or to be at odds, with most of the lands or kingdoms of the earth, which must, I conceive, be proved, before the old reading can be supported. Malone. By most lands, perhaps our author means greatest lands. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act IV. Sc. I.: “But always resolute in most extremes.” i. e. in greatest. Alcibiades, therefore, may be willing to regard a contest with a great and extensive territory like that of Athens, as a circumstance honourable to himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 780 3Enter divers Lords,] In the modern editions these are called Senators;; but it is clear from what is said concerning the banishment of Alcibiades, that this must be wrong. I have therefore substituted Lords. The old copy has “Enter divers friends.” Malone.

Note return to page 781 4Upon that were my thoughts tiring,] A hawk, I think, is said to tire, when she amuses herself with pecking a pheasant's wing, or any thing that puts her in mind of prey. To tire upon a thing, is therefore to be idly employed upon it. Johnson. I believe Dr. Johnson is mistaken. Tiring means here, I think, fixed, fastened, as the hawk fastens its beak eagerly on its prey. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Like as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, “Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone, &lblank;” Tirouër, that is tiring for hawks, as Cotgrave calls it, signified any thing by which the falconer brought the bird back, and fixed him to his hand. A capon's wing was often used for this purpose. In King Henry VI. Part. II. we have a kindred expression: “&lblank; your thoughts “Beat on a crown.” Malone. Dr. Johnson's explanation, I believe, is right. Thus, in The Winter's Tale, Antigonus is said to be “woman-tir'd,” i. e. pecked by a woman, as we now say, with a similar allusion, hen-pecked. Steevens.

Note return to page 782 5&lblank; your better remembrance.] i. e. your good memory: the comparative for the positive degree. See vol. xi. p. 138, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 783 6Here's a noble feast toward.] i. e. in a state of readiness. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “We have a foolish trifling banquet towards.” Steevens.

Note return to page 784 7&lblank; your diet shall be in all places alike.] See a note on The Winter's Tale, Act I. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 8The rest of your fees,] We should read—foes. Warburton. We must surely read foes intead of fees. I find no sense in the present reading. M. Mason.

Note return to page 786 9&lblank; the common lag &lblank;] Old copy—leg. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. The fag-end of a web of cloth, is, in some places, called the lag-end. Steevens.

Note return to page 787 1Is your perfection.] Your perfection, is the highest of your excellence. Johnson.

Note return to page 788 2&lblank; Live loath'd, and long,] This thought has occurred twice before: “&lblank; let not that part “Of nature my lord paid for, be of power “To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.” Again: “Gods keep you old enough,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 789 3&lblank; fools of fortune,] The same expression occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “O! I am fortune's fool.” Steevens.

Note return to page 790 4&lblank; time's flies,] Flies of a season. Johnson. So, before: “&lblank; one of winter showers, “These flies are couch'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 791 5&lblank; minute-jacks!] Sir Thomas Hanmer thinks it means Jack-a-lantern, which shines and disappears in an instant. What it was I know not; but it was something of quick motion, mentioned in King Richard III. Johnson. A minute-jack is what was called formerly a Jack of the clock-house; an image whose office was the same as one of those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet Street. See note on K. Richard III. Act IV. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 792 6&lblank; the infinite malady &lblank;] Every kind of disease incident to man and beast. Johnson.

Note return to page 793 7How now, my lords?] This and the next speech are spoken by the newly arrived Lords. Malone.

Note return to page 794 8&lblank; stones.] As Timon has thrown nothing at his worthless guests, except warm water and empty dishes, I am induced, with Mr. Malone, to believe that the more ancient drama described in p. 244, had been read by our author, and that he supposed he had introduced from it the “painted stones” as part of his banquet; though in reality he had omitted them. The present mention therefore of such missiles, appears to want propriety. Steevens.

Note return to page 795 9&lblank; general filths &lblank;] i. e. common sewers. Steevens.

Note return to page 796 1&lblank; green &lblank;] i. e. immature. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “When I was green in judgment &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 797 2&lblank; O' the brothel!] So the old copies. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, i' the brothel. Johnson. One would suppose it to mean, that the mistress frequented the brothel; and so Sir Thomas Hanmer understood it. Ritson. The meaning is, go to thy master's bed, for he is alone; thy mistress is now of the brothel; is now there. In the old copy, i'th, o'th', and a'th', are written with very little care, or rather seem to have been set down at random in different places. Malone. “Of the brothel!” is the true reading. So, in King Lear, Act II. Sc. II. the Steward says to Kent, “Art of the house?” Steevens.

Note return to page 798 3&lblank; confounding contraries.] i. e. contrarieties whose nature it is to waste or destroy each other. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; as doth a galled rock “O'erhang and jutty his confounded base.” Steevens.

Note return to page 799 4&lblank; yet confusion &lblank;] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, let confusion; but the meaning may be, “though by such confusion all things seem to hasten to dissolution, yet let not dissolution come, but the miseries of confusion continue. Johnson.

Note return to page 800 5&lblank; liberty &lblank;] Liberty is here used for libertinism. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “And many such like liberties of sin;” apparently meaning—libertines. Steevens.

Note return to page 801 6&lblank; Multiplying banns!] i. e. accumulated curses. Multiplying for multiplied: the active participle with a passive signification. See vol. iv. p. 66, n. 1. Steevens.

Note return to page 802 7Enter Flavius,] Nothing contributes more to the exaltation of Timon's character than the zeal and fidelity of his servants. Nothing but real virtue can be honoured by domesticks; nothing but impartial kindness can gain affection from dependants. Johnson.

Note return to page 803 8Let me be recorded &lblank;] In compliance with ancient elliptical phraseology, the word me, which disorders the measure, might be omitted. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “Let it be recorded,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 804 9&lblank; to his buried fortunes &lblank;] So the old copies. Sir T. Hanmer reads from; but the old reading might stand. Johnson. I should suppose that the words from, in the second line, and to in the third line, have been misplaced, and that the original reading was: “As we do turn our backs “To our companion thrown into his grave, “So his familiars from his buried fortunes “Slink all away;—” When we leave a person, we turn our backs to him, not from him. M. Mason. “So his familiars to his buried fortunes,” &c. So those who were familiar to his buried fortunes, who in the most ample manner participated of them, slink all away,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 805 1&lblank; rich in sorrow, parting poor.] This conceit occurs again in King Lear: “Fairest Cordelia, thou art most rich, being poor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 806 2O, the fierce wretchedness &lblank;] I believe fierce is here used for hasty, precipitate. Perhaps it is employed in the same sense by Ben Jonson in his Poetaster: “And Lupus, for your fierce credulity “One fit him with a larger pair of ears.” In King Henry VIII. our author has fierce vanities. In all instances it may mean glaring, conspicuous, violent. So, in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, the Puritan says: “Thy hobby-horse is an idol, a fierce and rank idol.” Again, in King John: “O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes “In their continuance will not feel themselves.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “With all the fierce endeavour of your wit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 3&lblank; Strange, unusual blood,] Of this passage, I suppose, every reader would wish for a correction: but the word, harsh as it is, stands fortified by the rhyme, to which, perhaps, it owes its introduction. I know not what to propose. Perhaps— “&lblank; Strange, unusual mood,” may, by some, be thought better, and by others worse. Johnson. In The Yorkshire Tragedy, 1608, attributed to Shakspeare, blood seems to be used for inclination, propensity: “For 'tis our blood to love what we are forbidden.” “Strange, unusual blood,” may therefore mean, ‘strange unusual disposition.’ Again, in the 5th book of Gower, De Confessione Amantis: “And thus of thilke unkinde blood “Stant the memorie unto this daie.” Gower is speaking of the ingratitude of one Adrian, a lord of Rome. Steevens. Throughout these plays blood is frequently used in the sense of natural propensity or disposition. Malone.

Note return to page 808 4&lblank; below thy sister's orb &lblank;] That is, the moon's, this sublunary world. Johnson.

Note return to page 809 5&lblank; Not nature, To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune, But by contempt of nature.] The meaning I take to be this: ‘Brother, when his fortune is enlarged, will scorn brother; for this is the general depravity of human nature, which, besieged as it is by misery, admonished as it is of want and imperfection, when elevated by fortune will despise beings of nature like its own.’ Johnson. Mr. M. Mason observes, that this passage “but by the addition of a single letter may be rendered clearly intelligible; by merely reading natures instead of nature.” The meaning will then be— “Not even beings reduced to the utmost extremity of wretchedness, can bear good fortune, without contemning their fellow-creatures.” —The word natures is afterwards used in a similar sense by Apemantus: “&lblank; Call the creatures “Whose naked natures live in all the spite “Of wreakful heaven,” &c. Perhaps, in the present instance, we ought to complete the measure by reading: “&lblank; not those natures &lblank;.” Steevens. But byis here used for without. Malone.

Note return to page 810 6Raise me this beggar and deny't that lord,] Where is the sense and English of deny't that lord? Deny him what? What preceding noun is there to which the pronoun it is to be referred? And it would be absurd to think the poet meant, deny to raise that lord. The antithesis must be, ‘let fortune raise this beggar, and let her strip and despoil that lord of all his pomp and ornaments,’ &c. which sense is completed by this slight alteration: “&lblank; and denude that lord;—” So, Lord Rea, in his relation of M. Hamilton's plot, written in 1650: “All these Hamiltons had denuded themselves of their fortunes and estates.” And Charles the First, in his message to the parliament, says: “Denude ourselves of all.”—Clar. vol. iii. p. 15, octavo edit. Warburton. Perhaps the former reading, however irregular, is the true one. ‘Raise me that beggar, and deny a proportionable degree of elevation to that lord.’ A lord is not so high a title in the state, but that a man originally poor might be raised to one above it. We might read devest that lord. Devest is an English law phrase, which Shakspeare uses in King Lear: “Since now we will devest us both of rule,” &c. The word which Dr. Warburton would introduce is not, however, uncommon. I find it in The Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: “As one of all happiness denuded.” Steevens. The objection to the reading of the old copy is, that there is no antecedent to which the word it can be referred; but this is in Shakspeare's manner. So in Othello: “And bid me when my fate would have me wive “To give it her.” i. e. his wife, which is understood. So in this passage, “Raise me this beggar [to eminence], and deny't that lord.” Malone.

Note return to page 811 7It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,] This, as the editors have ordered it, is an idle repetition at the best; supposing it did, indeed, contain the same sentiment as the foregoing lines. But Shakspeare meant quite a different thing: and having, like a sensible writer, made a smart observation, he illustrates it by a similitude thus: “It is the pasture lards the wether's sides, “The want that makes him lean.” And the similitude is extremely beautiful, as conveying this satirical reflection; there is no more difference between man and man in the esteem of superficial and corrupt judgments, than between a fat sheep and a lean one. Warburton. This passage is very obscure, nor do I discover any clear sense, even though we should admit the emendation. Let us inspect the text as it stands in the original edition: “It is the pastour lards the brother's sides, “The want that makes him leave.” Dr. Warburton found the passage already changed thus: “It is the pasture lards the beggar's sides, “The want that makes him lean.” And upon this reading of no authority, raised another equally uncertain. Alterations are never to be made without necessity. Let us see what sense the genuine reading will afford. Poverty, says the poet, bears contempt hereditary, and wealth native honour. To illustrate this position, having already mentioned the case of a poor and rich brother, he remarks, that this preference is given to wealth by those whom it least becomes; it is the pastour that greases or flatters the rich brother, and will grease him on till want make him leave. The poet then goes on to ask, Who dares to say this man, this pastour, is a flatterer; the crime is universal; through all the world, the learned pate, with allusion to the pastour, ducks to the golden fool. If it be objected, as it may justly be, that the mention of a pastour is unsuitable, we must remember the mention of grace and cherubims in this play, and many such anachronisms in many others. I would therefore read thus: “It is the pastour lards the brother's sides, “'Tis want that makes him leave.” The obscurity is still great. Perhaps a line is lost. I have at least given the original reading. Johnson. Perhaps Shakspeare wrote pasterer, for I meet with such a word in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “Alexander, before he fell into the Persian delicacies, refused those cooks and pasterers that Ada queen of Caria sent to him.” There is likewise a proverb among Ray's Collection, which seems to afford much the some meaning as this passage in Shakspeare:—“Every one basteth the fat hog, while the lean one burneth.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida, Act II.: “That were to enlard his fat-already pride.” Steevens. In this very difficult passage, which still remains obscure, some liberty may be indulged. Dr. Farmer proposes to read it thus: “It is the pasterer lards the broader sides, “The gaunt that makes him leave.” And in support of this conjecture, he observes, that the Saxon d is frequently converted into th, as in murther, murder, burthen, burden, &c. Reed. That the passage is corrupt as it stands in the old copy, no one, I suppose, can doubt; emendation therefore in this and a few other places, is not a matter of choice but necessity. I have already more than once observed, that many corruptions have crept into the old copy, by the transcriber's ear deceiving him. In Coriolanus we have higher for hire, and hope for holp; in the present play, reverends for reverend'st; and in almost every play similar corruptions. In King Richard II. quarto, 1598, we find the very error that happened here: “&lblank; and bedew “Her pastor's grass with faithful English blood.” Again, in As You Like It, folio, 1623, we find, “I have heard him read many lectors against it;” intead of lectures. Pasture when the u is sounded thin, and pastor, are scarcely distinguishable. Thus, as I conceive, the true reading of the first disputed word of this contested passage is ascertained. In As You Like It, we have—“good pasture makes fat sheep.” Again, in the same play: “Anon, a careless herd, “Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,” &c. The meaning then of the passage is,—‘It is the land alone which each man possesses that makes him rich, and proud, and flattered; and the want of it, that makes him poor, and an object of contempt. I suppose, with Dr. Johnson, that Shakspeare was still thinking of the rich and poor brother already described. I doubt much whether Dr. Johnson himself was satisfied with his far-fetched explication of pastour, as applied to brother; [See his note] and I think no one else can be satisfied with it. In order to give it some little support, he supposes “This man's a flatterer,” in the following passage, to relate to the imaginary pastor in this; whereas those words indubitably relate to any one individual selected out of the aggregate mass of mankind. Dr. Warburton reads—wether's sides; which affords a commodious sense, but is so far removed from the original reading as to be inadmissible. Shakspeare, I have no doubt, thought at first of those animals that are fatted by pasture, and passed from thence to the proprietor of the soil. Concerning the third word there can be no difficulty. Leane was the old spelling of lean, and the u in the MSS. of our author's time is not to be distinguished from an n. Add to this, that in the first folio u is constantly employed where we now use a v; and hence by inversion, the two letters were often confounded (as they are at this day in almost every proof-sheet of every book that passes through the press). Of this I have given various instances in a note in vol. viii. p. 176, n. 3. But it is not necessary to have recourse to these instances. This very word leave is again printed instead of leane, in King Henry IV. Part II. quarto, 1600: “The lives of all your loving complices “Leave on your health.” On the other hand in King Henry VIII. 1623, we have leane instead of leave: “You'll leane your noise anon, you rascals.” But any argument on this point is superfluous, since the context clearly shows that lean must have been the word intended by Shakspeare. Such emendations as those now adopted, thus founded and supported, are not capricious conjectures, against which no one has set his face more than myself, but almost certainties. This note has run out into an inordinate length, for which I shall make no other apology than that finding it necessary to depart from the reading of the old copy, to obtain any sense, I thought it incumbent on me to support the readings I have chosen, in the best manner in my power. Malone. As a brother (meaning, I suppose, a churchman) does not, literally speaking, fatten himself by feeding on land, it is probable that pasture signifies eating in general, without reference to terra firma. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Food for his rage, repasture for his den.” Pasture in the sense of nourishment collected from fields, will undoubtedly fatten the sides of a sheep or an ox, but who ever describes the owner of the fields as having derived from them his embonpoint? The emendation—lean is found in the second folio, which should not have been denied the praise to which it is entitled. The reading in the text may be the true one; but the condition in which this play was transmitted to us, is such as will warrant repeated doubts in almost every scene of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 812 8And say, This man's a flatterer?] This man does not refer to any particular person before mentioned, as Dr. Johnson thought, but to some supposed individual. Who, says Timon, can with propriety lay his hand on this or that individual, and pronounce him a peculiar flatterer? All mankind are equally flatterers. So, in As You Like It: “Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, “When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?” Malone.

Note return to page 813 9&lblank; for every grize of fortune &lblank;] Grize for step, or degree. Pope. See vol. xi. p. 438, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 814 1&lblank; fang mankind!] i. e. seize, gripe. This verb is used by Decker in his Match Me at London, 1631: “&lblank; bite any catchpole that fangs for you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 815 2&lblank; no idle votarist.] No insincere or inconstant supplicant. Gold will not serve me instead of roots. Johnson.

Note return to page 816 3&lblank; you clear heavens!] This may mean either ye cloudless skies, or ye deities exempt from guilt. Shakspeare mentions the clearest gods in King Lear; and in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540, a stranger is thus addressed: “Good stranger or alyen, clere gest,” &c. Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Than Collatine again by Lucrece' side, “In his clear bed might have reposed still.” i. e. his uncontaminated bed. Steevens. See p. 327, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 817 4&lblank; Why this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides;] Aristophanes, in his Plutus, Act V. Sc. II. makes the priest of Jupiter desert his service to live with Plutus. Warburton.

Note return to page 818 5Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads;] i. e. men who have strength yet remaining to struggle with their distemper. This alludes to an old custom of drawing away the pillow from under the heads of men in their last agonies, to make their departure the easier. But the Oxford editor, supposing stout to signify healthy, alters it to sick, and this he calls emending. Warburton.

Note return to page 819 6&lblank; the hoar leprosy &lblank;] So, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, book xxviii. ch. xii.: “&lblank; the foul white leprie called elephantiasis.” Steevens.

Note return to page 820 7&lblank; this is it,] Some word is here wanting to the metre. We might either repeat the pronoun—this; or avail ourselves of our author's common introductory adverb, emphatically used— “&lblank; why, this it is.” Steevens.

Note return to page 821 8That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;] Waped or wappen'd signifies both sorrowful and terrified, either for the loss of a good husband, or by the treatment of a bad. But gold, he says, can overcome both her affection and her fears. Warburton. Of wappened I have found no example, nor know any meaning. To awhape is used by Spenser in his Hubberd's Tale, but I think not in either of the senses mentioned. I would read wained, for decayed by time. So, our author, in King Richard III.: “A beauty-waining, and distressed widow.” Johnson. In the comedy of The Roaring Girl, by Middleton and Decker, 1611, I meet with a word very like this, which the reader will easily explain for himself, when he has seen the following passage: “Moll. And there you shall wap with me. “Sir B. Nay, Moll, what's that wap? “Moll. Wappening and niggling is all one, the rogue my man can tell you.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gypsies Metamorphosed: “Boarded at Tappington, “Bedded at Wappington.” Again, in Martin Mark-all's Apologie to the Bel-man of London, 1610: “Niggling is company-keeping with a woman: this word is not used now, but wapping, and thereof comes the name wapping-morts for whores.” Again, in one of the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 417: “Deal courteously with the Queen, &c. and with Mrs. Anne Hawte for wappys,” &c. Mr. Anmer observes, that “the editor of these same Letters, to wit, Sir John Fenn, (as perhaps becometh a grave man and a magistrate,) professeth not to understand this passage.” It must not, however, be concealed, that Chaucer, in The Complaint of Annelida, line 217, uses the word in the sense in which Dr. Warburton explains it: “My sewertye in waped countenance.” Wappened, according to the quotations I have already given, would mean,—“The widow whose curiosity and passions had been already gratified.” So, in Hamlet: “The instances that second marriage move, “Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.” And if the word defunct, in Othello, be explained according to its primitive meaning, the same sentiment may be discovered there. There may, however, be some corruption in the text. After all, I had rather read—weeping widow. So, in the ancient bl. l. ballad entitled, The Little Barley Corne: “'Twill make a weeping widow laugh, “And soon incline to pleasure.” Steevens. The instances produced by Mr. Steevens fully support the text in my apprehension, nor do I suspect any corruption. Unwapper'd is used by Fletcher in The Two Noble Kinsmen, for fresh, the opposite of stale: and perhaps we should read there unwappen'd. Mr. Steevens's interpretation however, is, I think, not quite exact, because it appears to me likely to mislead the reader with respect to the general import of the passage. Shakspeare means not to account for the wappen'd widow's seeking a husband, (though “her curiosity has been gratified,”) but for her finding one. It is her gold, says he, that induces some one (more attentive to thrift than love) to accept in marriage the hand of the experienced and o'er-worn widow.—Wed is here used for wedded. So, in The Comedy of Errors, Act I. Sc. I.: “In Syracusa was I born, and wed “Unto a woman, happy but for me.” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew, vol. v. p. 426: “To wish me wed to one half lunatick.” Again, in The Maid's Tragedy: “&lblank; He that understands “Whom you have wed needs not to wish you joy.” If wed is used as a verb, the words mean, “that effects or produces her second marriage.” Malone. I believe, unwapper'd means undebilitated by venery, i. e. not halting under crimes many and stale. Steevens. Mr. Tyrwhitt explains wap'd in the line cited from Chaucer, by stupified; a sense which accords with the other instances adduced by Mr. Steevens, as well as with Shakspeare. The wappen'd widow, is one who is no longer alive to those pleasures, the desire of which was her first inducement to marry. Henley. I suspect that there is another error in this passage, which has escaped the notice of the editors, and that we should read— “woo'd again,” instead of “wed again.” That a woman should wed again, however wapper'd, [or wappen'd] is nothing extraordinary. The extraordinary circumstance is, that she should be woo'd again, and become an object of desire. M. Mason. Mr. Malone's remark that wed is frequently used for wedded is one answer to Mr. Mason's objection; another is, that there must be two parties to a marriage, and that the widow could not be wedded unless she could persuade some one to wed her. Boswell.

Note return to page 822 9She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores Would cast the gorge at,] Surely we ought to read: “She, whose ulcerous sores the spital-house “Would cast the gorge at &lblank;.” Or, should the first line be thought deficient in harmony— “She, at whose ulcerous sores the spital-house “Would cast the gorge up &lblank;.” So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen: “And all the way, most like a brutish beast, “He spewed up his gorge.” The old reading is nonsense. I must add, that Dr. Farmer joins with me in suspecting this passage to be corrupt, and is satisfied with the emendation I have proposed. Steevens. In Antony and Cleopatra, we have honour and death, for honourable death. “The spital-house and ulcerous sores,” therefore, may be used for the contaminated spital-house; the spital-house replete with ulcerous sores. If it be asked, how can the spital-house, or how can ulcerous sores, cast the gorge at the female here described, let the following passages answer the question: “Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks.” Othello. Again, in Hamlet: “Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, “Makes mouths at the invincible event.” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; till our ground “Singing his pate against the burning zone,” &c. Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Over thy wounds now do I prophecy,— “Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips &lblank;.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose.” Again, in the play before us: “&lblank; when our vaults have wept “With drunken spilth of wine &lblank;.” In the preceding page, all sores are said to lay siege to nature; which they can no more do, if the passage is to be understood literally, than they can cast the gorge at the sight of the person here described.—In a word, the diction of the text is so very Shakspearian, that I cannot but wonder it should be suspected of corruption. The meaning is,—Her whom the spital-house, however polluted, would not admit, but reject with abhorrence, this embalms, &c. or, (in a looser paraphrase) Her, at the sight of whom all the patients in the spital-house, however contaminated, would sicken and turn away with loathing and abhorrence, disgusted by the view of still greater pollution, than any they had yet experience of, this embalms and spices, &c. To “cast the gorge at,” was Shakspeare's phraseology. So, in Hamlet, Act V. Sc. I.: “How abhorr'd in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it.” To the various examples which I have produced in support of the reading of the old copy, may be added these: “Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, “And sinks most lamentably.” Antony and Cleopatra. Again, ibidem: “Mine eyes did sicken at the sight.” Again, in Hamlet: “Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults.” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; we will fetters put upon this fear, “Which now goes too free-footed.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “His evasions have ears thus long.” Malone.

Note return to page 823 1To the April day again.] That is, to the wedding day, called by the poet, satirically, April day, or fool's day. Johnson. The April day does not relate to the widow, but to the other diseased female, who is represented as the outcast of an hospital. She it is whom gold embalms and spices to the April day again: i. e. gold restores her to all the freshness and sweetness of youth. Such is the power of gold, that it will— “&lblank; make black, white; foul, fair; “Wrong, right;” &c. A quotation or two may perhaps support this interpretation. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, p. 262, edit. 1633: “Do you see how the spring time is full of flowers, decking itself with them, and not aspiring to the fruits of autumn? What lesson is that unto you, but that in the April of your age you should be like April.” Again, in Stephens's Apology for Herodotus, 1607: “He is a young man, and in the April of his age.” Peacham's Compleat Gentleman, chap. iii. calls youth “the April of man's life.” Shakspeare's Sonnet entitled Love's Cruelty, has the same thought: “Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee “Calls back the lovely April of her prime.” Daniel's 31st Sonnet has, “&lblank; the April of my years.” Master Fenton “smells April and May.” Tollet.

Note return to page 824 2Do thy right nature.] Lie in the earth where nature laid thee. Johnson.

Note return to page 825 3&lblank; Thou'rt quick,] Thou hast life and motion in thee. Johnson.

Note return to page 826 4&lblank; strong thief,] Thus, Chaucer, in the Pardonere's Tale: “Men wolden say that we were theeves strong.” Steevens.

Note return to page 827 5I am misanthropos,] A marginal note in the old translation of Plutarch's Life of Antony, furnished our author with this epithet: “Antonius followeth the life and example of Timon Misanthropus, the Athenian.” Malone.

Note return to page 828 6&lblank; gules, gules:] Might we not repair the defective metre of this line, by adopting a Shakspearian epithet, and reading— “&lblank; gules, total gules;” as in the following passage in Hamlet: “Now is he total gules.” Steevens.

Note return to page 829 7I will not kiss thee;] This alludes to an opinion in former times, generally prevalent, that the venereal infection transmitted to another, left the infecter free. I will not, says Timon, take the rot from thy lips, by kissing thee. Johnson. Thus, The Humourous Lieutenant says: “He has some wench, or such a toy, to kiss over, “Before he go: 'would I had such another, “To draw this foolish pain down.” See also the fourth Satire of Donne. Steevens.

Note return to page 830 8&lblank; If Thou wilt not promise, &c.] That is, however thou may'st act, since thou art a man, hated man, I wish thee evil. Johnson.

Note return to page 831 9&lblank; then was a blessed time.] I suspect, from Timon's answer, that Shakspeare wrote—thine was a blessed time. Malone. I apprehend no corruption. Now, and then, were designedly opposed to each other. Steevens.

Note return to page 832 1Be a whore still! they love thee not, that use thee; Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. Make use of thy salt hours: &c.] There is here a slight transposition. I would read: “&lblank; they love thee not that use thee. “Leaving with thee their lust; give them diseases, “Make use of thy salt hours, season the slaves “For tubs, and baths;—” Johnson.

Note return to page 833 2&lblank; bring down rose-cheeked youth &lblank;] This expressive epithet our author might have found in Marlowe's Hero and Leander: “Rose-cheek'd Adonis kept a solemn feast.” Malone.

Note return to page 834 3&lblank; To the tub-fast, and the diet.] [Old copy—fub-fast.] One might make a very long and vain search, yet not be able to meet with this preposterous word fub-fast, which has notwithstanding passed current with all the editors. We should read— tub-fast. The author is alluding to the lues venerea and its effects. At that time the cure of it was performed either by guaiacum, or mercurial unctions: and in both cases the patient was kept up very warm and close; that in the first application the sweat might be promoted; and lest, in the other, he should take cold, which was fatal. “The regimen for the course of guaiacum (says Dr. Friend, in his History of Physick, vol. ii. p. 380,) was at first strangely circumstantial; and so rigorous, that the patient was put into a dungeon in order to make him sweat; and in that manner, as Fallopius expresses it, the bones, and the very man himself was macerated.” Wiseman says, in England they used a tub for this purpose, as abroad, a cave, or oven, or dungeon. And as for the unction, it was sometimes continued for thirty-seven days, (as he observes, p. 375,) and during this time there was necessarily an extraordinary abstinence required. Hence the term of the tub-fast. Warburton. So, in Jasper Maine's City Match, 1639: “You had better match a ruin'd bawd, “One ten times cur'd by sweating, and the tub.” Again, in The Family of Love, 1608, a doctor says: “&lblank; O for one of the hoops of my Cornelius' tub, I shall burst myself with laughing else.” Again, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “Our embassage is into France, there may be employment for thee. Hast thou a tub?” The diet was likewise a customary term for the regimen prescribed in these cases. So, in Springes to Catch Woodcocks, a collection of Epigrams, 1606: “Priscus gave out, &c.— “Priscus had tane the diet all the while.” Again, in another collection of ancient Epigrams called The Mastive, &c. “She took not diet nor the sweat in season.” Thus also, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle: “&lblank; whom I in diet keep “Send lower down into the cave, “And in a tub that's heated smoaking hot,” &c. Again, in the same play: “&lblank; caught us, and put us in a tub, “Where we this two months sweat, &c. “This bread and water hath our diet been,” &c. Steevens. The preceding lines, and a passage in Measure for Measure, fully support the emendation: “Truly, sir, she [the bawd] hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.” Malone. In the Latin comedy of Cornelianum Dolium, which was probably written by T. Randolph, there is a frontispiece representing the sweating-tub. Some account of the sweating-tub with a cut of it may be seen in Ambrose Paræus's Works, by Johnson, p. 48. Another very particular representation of it may be likewise found in the Recueil de Proverbes par Jacques Lagniet, with the following lines: Pour un petit plaisir je soufre mille maux; Je fais contre un hyver deux este ci me semble: Partout le corps je sue, et ma machoir tremble; Je ne croy jamais voir la fin de mes travaux. For another print of this tub, see Holmes's Academy of Armory. Douce.

Note return to page 835 4&lblank; trod upon them,] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—“had trod upon them.” Shakspeare was not thus minutely accurate. Malone.

Note return to page 836 5Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison In the sick air:] This is wonderfully sublime and picturesque. Warburton. We meet with the same image in King Richard II.: “&lblank; or suppose “Devouring pestilence hangs in our air.” Malone. The same idea occurs in Chapman's version of the sixth Iliad: “&lblank; and therefore hangs, I fear, “A plague above him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 837 6&lblank; thy trenchant sword;] So, in Philemon Holland's translation of the ninth Book of Pliny's Natural History, 1601, p. 237: “&lblank; they all to cut and hacke them with their trenchant teeth;—” See note on Macbeth, vol. xi. p. 271, n. 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 838 7That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,] The virgin that shows her bosom through the lattice of her chamber. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's explanation is almost confirmed by the following passage in Cymbeline: “&lblank; or let her beauty “Look through a casement to allure false hearts, “And be false with them.” Shakspeare at the same time might aim a stroke at this indecency in the wantons of his own time, which is also animadverted on by several contemporary dramatists. So, in the ancient interlude of The Repentance of Marie Magdalene, 1567: “Your garment must be worne alway, “That your white pappes may be seene if you may.— “If young gentlemen may see your white skin, “It will allure them to love, and soon bring them in. “Both damsels and wives use many such feates. “I know them that will lay out their faire teates.” All this is addressed to Mary Magdalen. To the same purpose, Jovius Pontanus: Nam quid lacteolos sinus, et ipsas Præ te fers sine linteo papillas? Hoc est dicere, posce, posce, trado, Hoc est ad Venerem vocare amantes. Steevens. Our author has again the same kind of imagery in his Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; spite of heaven's fell rage, “Some beauty peep'd through lattice of fear'd age.” I do not believe any particular satire was here intended. Lady Suffolk, Lady Somerset, and many of the celebrated beauties of the time of James I. are thus represented in their pictures; nor were they, I imagine, thought more reprehensible than the ladies of the present day, who from the same extravagant pursuit of what is called fashion, run into an opposite extreme. Malone. I have not hitherto met with any ancient portrait of a modest English woman, in which the papillæ exertæ were exhibited as described on the present occasion by Shakspeare; for he alludes not only to what he has called in his celebrated Song, “the hills of snow,” but to the “pinks that grow” upon their summits. Steevens. I believe we should read nearly thus: “&lblank; nor those milk-paps, “That through the widow's barb bore at men's eyes, “Are not within the leaf of pity writ.” The use of the doubled negative is so common in Shakspeare that it is unnecessary to support it by instances. The barbe, I believe, was a kind of veil. Cressida, in Chaucer, who appears as a widow, is described as wearing a barbe. Troilus and Cressida, book ii. v. 110, in which place Caxton's edition (as I learn from the Glossary) reads—wimple, which certainly signifies a veil, and was probably substituted as a synonimous word for barbe, the more antiquated reading of the manuscripts. Unbarbed is used by Shakspeare for uncovered, in Coriolanus, Act III. Sc. V.: “Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?” See also Leland's Collectanea, vol. v. p. 317, new edit. where the ladies, mourning at the funeral of Queen Mary, are mentioned as having their barbes above their chinnes. Tyrwhitt. There is a singular passage in Weaver's Plantagenet's Tragical Story, in which the term windows is used for a woman's breasts. I insert it, as it is barely possible that Timon, among the violent metaphors which his rage suggests, might, if we had any other authority for windows being used in this sense, mean by the window-bars, the handkerchief which confined them. At all events, the passage is curious. “Like to a wrinkled carrion I have seen, “Instead of fifty, write her down fifteen; “Wearing her bought complexion in a box, “And every morn, her closet-face unlocks, “Plants cherries in her cheeks, her eye she chears, “And with her pencil cancells thirty years; “Opening her lustfull windows, which are shown, “Nigh to the navell o'er with lillies sown!” Boswell.

Note return to page 839 8Set them down &lblank;] Old copy in defiance of metre— “But set them down.” Steevens.

Note return to page 840 9&lblank; exhaust their mercy;] For exhaust, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read—extort; but exhaust here signifies literally to draw forth. Johnson.

Note return to page 841 1&lblank; bastard,] An allusion to the tale of Oedipus. Johnson.

Note return to page 842 2&lblank; thy throat &lblank;] Old copy—the throat. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 843 3Swear against objects;] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “&lblank; 'gainst all objects.” So in our author's 152d Sonnet: “Or made them swear against the thing they see.” Steevens. Perhaps objects is here used provincially for abjects. Farmer. Against objects is, against objects of charity and compassion. So, in Troilus and Cressida, Ulysses says: “For Hector in his blaze of wrath, subscribes “To tender objects.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 844 4And to make whores, a bawd.] That is, enough to make a whore leave whoring, and a bawd leave making whores. Johnson.

Note return to page 845 5The immortal gods that hear you,] The same thought is found in Antony and Cleopatra, Act. I. Sc. III. “Though you with swearing shake the throned gods.” Again in The Winter's Tale: “Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths.” Steevens.

Note return to page 846 6I'll trust to your conditions:] You need not swear to continue whores, I will trust to your inclinations. Johnson. See vol. ix. p. 424, n. 1. Malone. Timon, I believe does not mean their dispositions but their vocations, and accordingly conjures them to be whores still. M. Mason.

Note return to page 847 7And be no turncoats:] By an old statute, those women who lived in a state of prostitution, were, among other articles concerning their dress, enjoined to wear their garments, with the wrong side outward, on pain of forfeiting them. Perhaps there is in this passage a reference to it. Henley. I do not perceive hnw his explanation of—turncoat, will accord with Timon's train of reasoning; yet the antiquary may perhaps derive satisfaction from that which affords no assistance to the commentator. Steevens.

Note return to page 848 8Yet may your pains, six months, Be quite contrary:] This is obscure, partly from the ambiguity of the word pains, and partly from the generality of the expression. The meaning is this: he had said before, follow constantly your trade of debauchery: that is (says he) for six months in the year. Let the other six be employed in quite contrary pains and labour, namely, in the severe discipline necessary for the repair of those disorders that your debaucheries occasion, in order to fit you anew to the trade; and thus let the whole year be spent in these different occupations. On this account he goes on, and says, “Make false hair, &c.” Warburton. The explanation is ingenious, but I think it very remote, and would willingly bring the author and his readers to meet on easier terms. We may read: “&lblank; Yet may your pains six months “Be quite contraried:—” Timon is wishing ill to mankind, but is afraid lest the whores should imagine that he wishes well to them; to obviate which he lets them know, that he imprecates upon them influence enough to plague others, and disappointments enough to plague themselves. He wishes that they may do all possible mischief, and yet take pains six months of the year in vain. In this sense there is a connection of this line with the next. “Finding your pains contraried, try new expedients, thatch your thin roofs, and paint.” To contrary is an old verb. Latimer relates, that when he went to court, he was advised not to contrary the King. Johnson. If Dr. Johnson's explanation be right, which I do not believe, the present words appear to me to admit it, as well as the reading he would introduce. Such unnecessary deviations from the text should ever be avoided. Dr. Warburton's is a very natural interpretation, which cannot often be said of the expositions of that commentator. The words that follow fully support it: “And thatch your poor thin roofs,” &c. i. e. after you have lost the greatest part of your hair by disease, and the medicines that for six months you have obliged to take, then procure an artificial covering, &c. Malone. I believe this means,—‘Yet for half the year at least, may you suffer such punishment as is inflicted on harlots in houses of correction.’ Steevens. These words should be enclosed in a parenthesis. Johnson wishes to connect them with the following sentences, but that cannot be, as they contain an imprecation, and the following lines contain an instruction. Timon is giving instructions to those women; but in the middle of his instructions, his misanthropy breaks forth in an imprecation against them. I have no objection to the reading of contraried instead of contrary, but it does not seem to be necessary. M. Mason.

Note return to page 849 9&lblank; thatch your poor thin roofs, &c.] About the year 1595, when the fashion became general in England of wearing a greater quantity of hair than was ever the produce of a single head, it was dangerous for any child to wander, as nothing was more common than for women to entice such as had fine locks into private places, and there to cut them off. I have this information from Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, which I have often quoted on the article of dress. To this fashion the writers of Shakspeare's age do not appear to have been reconciled. So, in A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “&lblank; to wear perriwigs made of another's hair, is not this against kind?” Again, in Drayton's Mooncalf: “And with large sums they stick not to procure “Hair from the dead, yea, and the most unclean; “To help their pride they nothing will disdain.” Again, in Shakspeare's 68th Sonnet: “Before the golden tresses of the dead, “The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, “To live a second life on second head, “Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay.” Again, in Churchyard's Tragicall Discours of a Dolorous Gentlewoman, 1593: “The perwickes fine must curle wher haire doth lack “The swelling grace that fils the empty sacke.” Warner, in his Albion's England, 1602, book ix. ch. xlvii. is likewise very severe on this fashion. Stowe informs us, that “women's periwigs were first brought into England about the time of the measure of Paris.” Steevens. See also vol. v. p. 83, n. 4. The first edition of Stubbes's Anatomy of Abuses quoted above, was in 1583. Drayton's Mooncalf did not, I believe, appear till 1627. Malone.

Note return to page 850 1&lblank; men's spurring.] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—sparring, properly enough, if there be any ancient example of the word. Johnson. Spurring is certainly right. The disease that enfeebled their shins would have this effect. Steevens.

Note return to page 851 2Nor sound his quillets shrilly:] Quillets are subtilties. So, in Law Tricks, &c. 1608: “&lblank; a quillet well applied!” Steevens. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders quillet, res frivola recula. Malone.

Note return to page 852 3&lblank; hoar the flamen,] Mr. Upton would read—hoarse, i. e. make hoarse; for to be hoary claims reverence. “Add to this (says he) that hoarse is here most proper, as opposed to scolds. It may, however, mean,—Give the flamen the hoary leprosy.” So, in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “&lblank; shew like leprosy. “The whiter the fouler.” And before, in this play: “Make the hoar leprosy ador'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 853 4&lblank; that his particular to foresee,] The metaphor is apparently incongruous, but the sense is good. To “foresee his particular,” is ‘to provide for his private advantage, for which he leaves the right scent of publick good.’ In hunting, when hares have cross'd one another, it is common for some of the hounds “to smell from the general weal, and foresee their own particular.” Shakspeare, who seems to have been a skilful sportsman, and has alluded often to falconry, perhaps, alludes here to hunting. [Dr. Warburton would read—forefend, i. e. (as he interprets the word) provide for, secure.] To the commentator's emendation it may be objected, that he uses forefend in the wrong meaning. To forefend is, I think, never to provide for, but to provide against. The verbs compounded with for or fore have commonly either an evil or negative sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 854 5And ditches grave you all!] To grave is to entomb. The word is now obsolete, though sometimes used by Shakspeare and his contemporary authors. So, in Lord Surrey's translation of the fourth book of Virgil's Æneid: “Cinders (think'st thou) mind this? or graved ghostes?” Again, in Chapman's version of the fifteenth Iliad: “&lblank; the throtes of dogs shall grave “His manlesse lims.” To ungrave was likewise to turn out of a grave. Thus, in Marston's Sophonisba: “&lblank; and me, now dead, “Deny a grave; hurl us among the rocks “To stanch beasts hunger: therefore, thus ungrav'd, “I seek slow rest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 855 6&lblank; find it such.] For the insertion of the pronoun—such, I am answerable. It is too frequently used on similar occasions by our author, to need exemplification. Steevens.

Note return to page 856 7Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,] This image is taken from the ancient statues of Diana Ephesia Multimammia, called &grp;&gra;&grn;&gra;&gria;&gro;&grl;&gro;&grst; &grf;&grua;&grs;&gri;&grst; &grp;&graa;&grn;&grt;&grw;&grn; &grm;&grha;&grt;&grh;&grr;; and is a very good comment on those extraordinary figures. See Montfauçon, l' Antiquitê Expliqueé, lib. iii. ch. xv. Hesiod, alluding to the same representations, calls the earth, &grG;&grA;&grI;&grap; &grE;&grU;&grR;&grU;&grS;&grT;&grE;&grR;&grN;&grO;&grST;. Warburton. “Whose infinite breast” means no more than ‘whose boundless surface.’ Shakspeare probably knew nothing of the statue to which the commentator alludes. Steevens.

Note return to page 857 9&lblank; eyeless venom'd worm,] The serpent, which we, from the smallness of his eyes, call the blind-worm, and the Latins, cœcilia. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Adder's fork, and blindworm's sting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 858 1&lblank; below crisp heaven &lblank;] We should read—cript, i. e. vaulted, from the Latin crypta, a vault. Warburton. Mr. Upton declares for crisp, curled, bent, hollow. Johnson. Perhaps Shakspeare means curl'd, from the appearance of the clouds. In The Tempest, Ariel talks of riding— “On the curl'd clouds.” Chaucer, in his House of Fame, says— “Her here that was oundie and crips.” i. e. wavy and curled. Again, in The Philosopher's Satires, by Robert Anton: “Her face as beauteous as the crisped morn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 859 2&lblank; who all thy human sons doth hate,] Old copy—the human sons do hate. The former word was corrected by Mr. Pope; the latter by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 860 3Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,] So, in K. Lear: “Dry up in her the organs of encrease.” Steevens.

Note return to page 861 4Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!] It is plain that bring out is bring forth. Johnson. Neither Dr. Warburton nor Dr. Johnson seem to have been aware of the import of this passage. It was the great boast of the Athenians that they were &gra;&gru;&grt;&gro;&grx;&grq;&gro;&grn;&gre;&grst;; sprung from the soil on which they lived; and it is in allusion to this, that the terms common mother, and bring out, are applied to the ground. Henley. Though Mr. Henley, as a scholar, could not be unacquainted with this Athenian boast, I fear that Shakspeare knew no more of it than of the many-breasted Diana of Ephesus, brought forward by Dr. Warburton in a preceding note. Steevens.

Note return to page 862 5&lblank; the marbled mansion &lblank;] So, Milton, b. iii. l. 564: “Through the pure marble air &lblank;.” Virgil bestows the same epithet on the sea. Steevens. Again, in Othello: “Now by yon marble heaven &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 863 6Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plow-torn leas;] The sense is this: O nature! cease to produce men, ensear thy womb; but if thou wilt continue to produce them, at least cease to pamper them; dry up thy marrows, on which they fatten with unctuous morsels, thy vines, which give them liquorish draughts, and thy plow-torn leas. Here are effects corresponding with causes, liquorish draughts, with vines, and unctuous morsels with marrows, and the old reading literally preserved. Johnson.

Note return to page 864 7This is in thee a nature but affected; A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung From change of fortune.] The old copy reads—infected, and “change of future.” Mr. Rowe made the emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 865 8Hug their diseas'd perfumes,] i. e. their diseas'd perfumed mistresses. Malone. So, in Othello: “'Tis such another fitchew; marry, a perfum'd one.” Steevens.

Note return to page 866 9&lblank; the cunning of a carper.] For the philosophy of a Cynick, of which sect Apemantus was; and therefore he concludes: “&lblank; Do not assume my likeness.” Warburton. Cunning here seems to signify counterfeit appearance. Johnson. The “cunning of a carper,” is the insidious art of a critick. Shame not these woods, says Apemantus, by coming here to find fault. Maurice Kyffin in the preface to his translation of Terence's Andria, 1588, says: “Of the curious carper I look not to be favoured.” Again, Ursula speaking of the sarcasms of Beatrice, observes— “Why sure, such carping is not commendable.” There is no apparent reason why Apemantus (according to Dr. Warburton's explanation) should ridicule his own sect. Steevens.

Note return to page 867 1&lblank; hinge thy knee,] Thus, in Hamlet: “To crook the pregnant hinges of the knee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 868 2&lblank; like tapsters, that bid welcome,] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call, “Soothing the humour of fantastick wits.” The old copy has—bad welcome. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 869 3&lblank; moss'd trees,] [Old copy—moist trees.] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads very elegantly: “&lblank; moss'd trees.” Johnson. Shakspeare uses the same epithet in As You Like It, Act IV.: “Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age.” Steevens. So also Drayton, in his Mortimeriados, no date: “Even as a bustling tempest rousing blasts “Upon a forest of old branching oakes, “And with his furie teyrs their mossy loaks.” Moss'd is, I believe, the true reading. Malone. I have inserted this reading in the text, because there is less propriety in the epithet—moist; it being a known truth that trees become more and more dry, as they encrease in age. Thus, our author, in his Rape of Lucrece, observes, that it is one of the properties of time— “To dry the old oak's sap &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 870 4&lblank; outliv'd the eagle,] Aquilæ Senectus is a proverb. I learn from Turberville's Book of Falconry, 1575, that the great age of this bird has been ascertained from the circumstance of its always building its eyrie, or nest, in the same place. Steevens.

Note return to page 871 5Answer mere nature,] So, in King Lear, Act II. Sc. III.: “And with presented nakedness outface “The winds,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 872 6To vex thee.] As the measure is here imperfect, we may suppose, with Sir Thomas Hanmer, our author to have written: “Only to vex thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 873 7What! a knave too?] Timon had just called Apemantus fool, in consequence of what he had known of him by former acquaintance; but when Apemantus tells him that he comes to vex him, Timon determines that to vex is either the office of a villain or a fool; that to vex by design is villainy, to vex without design is folly. He then properly asks Apemantus whether he takes delight in vexing, and when he answers, yes, Timon replies, —“What! a knave too?” I before only knew thee to be a fool, but now I find thee likewise a knave. Johnson.

Note return to page 874 8&lblank; is crown'd before:] Arrives sooner at high wish; that is, at the completion of its wishes. Johnson. So, in a former scene of this play: “And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd, “That I account them blessings.” Again, more appositely, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; my supreme crown of grief.” Malone.

Note return to page 875 9Worse than the worst, content.] Best states contentless have a wretched being, a being worse than that of the worst states that are content. Johnson.

Note return to page 876 1&lblank; by his breath,] It means, I believe, by his counsel, by his direction. Johnson. “By his breath,” I believe, is meant his sentence. To breathe is as licentiously used by Shakspeare in the following instance from Hamlet: “Having ever seen, in the prenominate crimes, “The youth you breathe of, guilty,” &c. Steevens. By his breath means in our author's language, by his voice or speech, and so in fact by his sentence. Shakspeare frequently uses the word in this sense. It has been twice used in this play. See p. 340, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 877 2Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd;] In a Collection of Sonnets, entitled, Chloris, or the Complaint of the passionate despised Shepheard, by William Smith, 1596, a similar image is found: “Doth any live that ever had such hap,   “That all her actions are of none effect? “Whom Fortune never dandled in her lap,   “But as an abject still doth me reject.” Malone.

Note return to page 878 3&lblank; but bred a dog.] Alluding to the word Cynick, of which sect Apemantus was. Warburton. For the etymology of Cynick, our author was not obliged to have recourse to the Greek language. The dictionaries of his time furnished him with it. See Cawdrey's Dictionary of Hard English Words, octavo, 1604: “Cynical, doggish, froward.” Again, in Bullokar's English Expositor, 1616: “Cynical, doggish, or currish. There was in Greece an old sect of philosophers so called, because they did ever sharply barke at men's vices,” &c. After all, however, I believe Shakspeare only meant, thou wert born in a low state, and used from thy infancy to hardships. Malone.

Note return to page 879 4Hadst thou, like us.] There is in this speech a sullen haughtiness and malignant dignity, suitable at once to the lord and the man-hater. The impatience with which he bears to have his luxury reproached by one that never had luxury within his reach, is natural and graceful. There is in a letter, written by the Earl of Essex, just before his execution, to another nobleman, a passage somewhat resembling this, with which, I believe, every reader will be pleased, though it is so serious and solemn that it can scarcely be inserted without irreverence: “God grant your lordship may quickly feel the comfort I now enjoy in my unfeigned conversion, but that you may never feel the torments I have suffered for my long delaying it. I had none but deceivers to call upon me, to whom I said, if my ambition could have entered into their narrow breasts, they would not have been so humble; or if my delights had been once tasted by them, they would not have been so precise. But your lordship hath one to call upon you, that knoweth what it is you now enjoy; and what the greatest fruit and end is of all contentment that this world can afford. Think, therefore, dear earl, that I have staked and buoyed all the ways of pleasure unto you, and left them as sea-marks for you to keep the channel of religious virtue. For shut your eyes never so long, they must be open at the last, and then you must say with me, there is no peace to the ungodly.” Johnson. A similar thought occurs in a MS. metrical translation of an ancient French romance, preserved in the Library of King's College, Cambridge. [See note on Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. X.]: “But heretofore of hardnesse hadest thou never; “But were brought forth in blisse, as swich a burde ought, “Wyth alle maner gode metes, and to misse them now “It were a botles bale,” &c. p, 26, b. Steevens.

Note return to page 880 5&lblank; first swath,] From infancy. Swath is the dress of a new-born child. Johnson. So, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “No more their cradles shall be made their tombs, “Nor their soft swaths become their winding-sheets.” Again, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Hymn to Apollo: “&lblank; swaddled with sincere “And spotless swath-bands &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 881 6The sweet degrees &lblank;] Thus the folio. The modern editors have, without authority, read—Through, &c. but this neglect of the preposition was common to many other writers of the age of Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 882 7To such as may the passive drugs of it &lblank;] Though all the modern editors agree in this reading, it appears to me corrupt. The epithet passive is seldom applied, except in a metaphorical sense, to inanimate objects; and I cannot well conceive what Timon can mean by the passive drugs of the world, unless he means every thing that the world affords. But in the first folio the words are not “passive drugs,” but “passive drugges.” This leads us to the true reading—drudges, which improves the sense, and is nearer to the old reading in the trace of the letters. Dr. Johnson says in his Dictionary, that a drug means a drudge, and cites this passage as an instance of it. But he is surely mistaken; and I think it is better to consider the passage as erroneous, than to acknowledge, on such slight authority, that a drug signifies a drudge. M. Mason.

Note return to page 883 8&lblank; command,] Old copy—command'st. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 884 9&lblank; melted down thy youth In different beds of lust;] Thus, in the Achilleid of Statius, ii. 394: &lblank; tenero nec fluxa cubili Membra &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 885 1&lblank; precepts of respect,] Of obedience to laws. Johnson. Timon cannot mean by the word respect, obedience to the laws, as Johnson supposes; for a poor man is more likely to be impressed with a reverence for the laws, than one in a station of nobility and affluence. Respect may possibly mean, as Steevens supposes, a regard to the opinion of the world: but I think it has a more enlarged signification, and implies a consideration of consequences, whatever they may be. In this sense it is used by Hamlet: “&lblank; There's the respect “That makes calamity of so long life.” M. Mason. “The icy precepts of respect” mean the cold admonitions of cautious prudence, that deliberately weighs the consequences of every action. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; Reason and respect, “Makes livers pale, and lustihood deject.” Again, in our poet's Rape of Lucrece: “Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating die! “Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age! “Sad pause and deep regard become the sage.” Hence in King Richard III. the King says: “I will converse with iron-witted fools, “And unrespective boys; none are for me, “That look into me with considerate eyes.” Malone. Respect, I believe, means the qu'en dira't on? the regard of Athens, that strongest restraint on licentiousness: the icy precepts, i. e. that cool hot blood; what Mr. Burke, in his admirable Reflections on the Revolution in France, has emphatically styled “one of the greatest controuling powers on earth, the sense of fame and estimation.” Steevens.

Note return to page 886 2&lblank; But myself.] The connection here requires some attention. But is here used to denote opposition; but what immediately precedes is not opposed to that which follows. The adversative particle refers to the two first lines: “Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm “With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. “&lblank; But myself, “Who had the world as my confectionary,” &c. The intermediate lines are to be considered as a parenthesis of passion. Johnson.

Note return to page 887 3&lblank; than I could frame employment;] i. e. frame employment for. Shakspeare frequently writes thus. See vol. xii. p. 23, n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 888 4&lblank; with one winter's brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare, &c.] So, in Massinger's Maid of Honour: “O summer friendship, “Whose flatt'ring leaves that shadow'd us in our “Prosperity, with the least gust drop off “In the autumn of adversity.” Steevens. Somewhat of the same imagery is found in our author's 73d Sonnet: “That time of year thou may'st in me 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.” Malone.

Note return to page 889 5&lblank; that poor rag.] If we read—poor rogue, it will correspond rather better to what follows. Johnson. In King Richard III. Margaret calls Gloster rag of honour; in the same play, the overweening rags of France are mentioned; and John Florio speaks of a “tara-rag player.” Steevens. We now use the word ragamuffin in the same sense. M. Mason. The term is yet used. The lowest of the people are yet denominated —Tag, rag, &c. So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; if the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him,—I am no true man.” Malone.

Note return to page 890 6Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer.] Dryden has quoted two verses of Virgil to show how well he could have written satires. Shakspeare has here given a specimen of the same power by a line bitter beyond all bitterness, in which Timon tells Apemantus, that he had not virtue enough for the vices which he condemns. Dr. Warburton explains worst by lowest, which somewhat weakens the sense, and yet leaves it sufficiently vigorous. I have heard Mr. Burke commend the subtlety of discrimination with which Shakspeare distinguishes the present character of Timon from that of Apemantus, whom to vulgar eyes he would now resemble. Johnson. Knave is here to be understood of a man who endeavours to recommend himself by a hypocritical appearance of attention, and superfluity of fawning officiousness; such a one as is called in King Lear, a finical superserviceable rogue.—If he had had virtue enough to attain the profitable vices, he would have been profitably vicious. Steevens.

Note return to page 891 7First mend my company,] The old copy reads—“mend thy company.” The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 892 8&lblank; take away thyself.] This thought seems to have been adopted from Plutarch's Life of Antony. It stands thus in Sir Thomas North's translation: “Apemantus said unto the other, O, here is a trimme banket, Timon. Timon aunswered, yea, said he, so thou wert not here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 893 9Apem. Where ly'st o' nights, Timon? Tim. Under that's above me.] So, in Coriolanus: “3 Serv. Where dwell'st thou? “Cor. Under the canopy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 894 1&lblank; for too much curiosity;] i. e. for too much finical delicacy. The Oxford editor alters it to courtesy. Warburton. Dr. Warburton has explained the word justly. So, in Jervas Markham's English Arcadia, 1606: “&lblank; for all those eye-charming graces, of which with such curiosity she had boasted.” Again, in Hobby's translation of Castiglione's Cortegiano, 1556: “A waiting gentlewoman should flee affection or curiosity.” Curiosity is here inserted as a synonyme to affection, which means affectation. Curiosity likewise seems to have meant capriciousness. Thus, in Greene's Mamillia, 1593: “Pharicles hath shewn me some curtesy, and I have not altogether requited him with curiosity: he hath made some shew of love, and I have not wholly seemed to mislike.” Steevens.

Note return to page 895 2Ay, though it look like thee.] Timon here supposes that an objection against hatred, which through the whole tenor of the conversation appears an argument for it. One would have expected him to have answered— “Yes, for it looks like thee.” The old edition, which always gives the pronoun instead of the affirmative particle, has it— “I, though it look like thee.” Perhaps we should read: “I thought it look'd like thee.” Johnson.

Note return to page 896 3&lblank; the unicorn, &c.] The account given of the unicorn is this: that he and the lion being enemies by nature, as soon as the lion sees the unicorn he betakes himself to a tree: the unicorn in his fury, and with all the swiftness of his course, running at him, sticks his horn fast in the tree, and then the lion falls upon him and kills him. Gesner Hist. Animal. Hanmer. See a note on Julius Cæsar, vol. xii. p. 50, n. 1. Steevens.

Note return to page 897 4&lblank; thou wert german to the lion,] This seems to be an allusion to Turkish policy: “Bears, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.” Pope. Steevens.

Note return to page 898 5&lblank; were remotion;] i. e. removal from place to place. So, in King Lear: “'Tis the remotion of the duke and her.” Steevens. Remotion means, I apprehend, not a frequent removal from place to place, but merely remoteness, the being placed at a distance from the lion. See vol. ix. p. 28, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 899 6Thou art the cap, &c.] The top, the principal. The remaining dialogue has more malignity than wit. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's explication is, I think, right; but I believe our author had also the fool's cap in his thoughts. Malone. In All's Well That Ends Well, “the cap of the time,” apparently means—the foremost in the fashion. Steevens.

Note return to page 900 7Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad to curse.] Thus the old copies, and, I think, rightly. Mr. Theobald, however, is of a contrary opinion; for, according to the present regulation, says he, Apemantus is “made to curse Timon, and immediately to subjoin that he was too bad to curse.” He would therefore give the former part of the line to Timon. Steevens.

Note return to page 901 8All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure. The same sentiment is repeated in King Lear: “Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, “When others are more wicked.” Steevens.

Note return to page 902 9'Twix't natural son and sire!] &grD;&gri;&grag; &grt;&gro;&gruc;&grt;&gro;&grn; &gro;&grus;&grk; &gras;&grd;&gre;&grl;&grf;&grog;&grst; &grD;&gri;&grag; &grt;&gro;&gruc;&grt;&gro;&grn; &gro;&grus; &grt;&gro;&grk;&grhc;&gre;&grst;. Anac. Johnson.

Note return to page 903 1Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap!] The imagery is here exquisitely beautiful and sublime. Warburton. Dr. Warburton might have said—Here is a very elegant turn given to a thought more coarsely expressed in King Lear: “&lblank; yon simpering dame, “Whose face between her forks presages snow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 904 2&lblank; O thou touch of hearts!] Touch, for touchstone. So, in King Richard III: “O, Buckingham, now do I play the touch, “To try if thou be'st current gold &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 905 3More things like men?] This line, in the old edition, is given to Apemantus, but it apparently belongs to Timon. Sir Thomas Hanmer has transposed the foregoing dialogue according to his own mind, not unskilfully, but with unwarrantable licence. Johnson. I believe, as the name of Apemantus was prefixed to this line, instead of Timon, so the name of Timon was prefixed to the preceding line by a similar mistake. That line seems more proper in the mouth of Apemantus; and the words—“I am quit,” seem to mark his exit. Malone. The words—“I am quit,” in my opinion, belong to Timon, who means that he is quit or clear, has at last got rid of Apemantus; is delivered from his company. This phrase is yet current among the vulgar. Steevens.

Note return to page 906 4Enter Thieves.] The old copy reads,—“Enter the Banditti.” Steevens.

Note return to page 907 5&lblank; you want much of meat.] Thus both the player and poetical editor have given us this passage: quite sand-blind, as honest Launcelot says, to our author's meaning. If these poor Thieves wanted meat, what greater want could they be cursed with, as they could not live on grass, and berries, and water? but I dare warrant the poet wrote: “&lblank; you much want to meet” i. e. Much of what you ought to be; much of the qualities befitting you as human creatures. Theobald. Such is Mr. Theobald's emendation, in which he is followed by Dr. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “&lblank; you want much of men.” They have been all busy without necessity. Observe the series of the conversation. The Thieves tell him, that they are men that much do want. Here is an ambiguity between much want, and want of much. Timon takes it on the wrong side, and tells them that their greatest want is, that, like other men, they want much of meat; then telling them where meat may be had, he asks, Want? why want? Johnson. Perhaps we should read: “Your greatest want is, you want much of me.” rejecting the two last letters of the word. The sense will then be—your greatest want is that you expect supplies of me from whom you can reasonably expect nothing. Your necessities are indeed desperate, when you apply for relief to one in my situation. Dr. Farmer, however, with no small probability, would point the passage as follows: “Your greatest want is, you want much. Of meat “Why should you want? Behold, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 908 6&lblank; the earth hath roots; &c.] Vile olus, et duris hærentia mora rubetis,   Pugnantis stomachi composuere famem: Flumine vicino stultus sitit. I do not suppose these to be imitations, but only to be similar thoughts on similar occasions. Johnson.

Note return to page 909 7&lblank; Yet thanks I must you con,] To con thanks is a very common expression among our old dramatick writers. So, in The Story of King Darius, 1565, an interlude: “Yea and well said, I con you no thanke.” Again, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, by Nash, 1592: “It is well done to practise my wit; but I believe our lord will con thee little thanks for it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 910 8In limited professions,] Limited, for legal. Warburton. Regular, orderly, professions. So, in Macbeth: “For, 'tis my limited service.” i. e. my appointed service, prescribed by the necessary duty and rules of my office. Malone.

Note return to page 911 9&lblank; since you profess to do't,] The old copy has—protest. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 912 1The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears:] The moon is supposed to be humid, and perhaps a source of humidity, but cannot be resolved by the surges of the sea. Yet I think moon is the true reading. Here is a circulation of thievery described: The sun, moon, and sea, all rob, and are robbed. Johnson. He says simply, that the sun, the moon, and the sea, rob one another by turns, but the earth robs them all: the sea, i. e. liquid surge, by supplying the moon with moisture, robs her in turn of the soft tears of dew which the poets always fetch from this planet. Soft for salt is an easy change. In this sense Milton speaks of her moist continent. Paradise Lost, book v. l. 422. And, in Hamlet, Horatio says: “&lblank; the moist star “Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands.” Steevens. We are not to attend on such occasions merely to philosophical truth; we are to consider what might have been the received or vulgar notions of the time.—The populace, in the days of Shakspeare, might possibly have considered the waining of the moon as a gradual dissolution of it, and have attributed to this melting of the moon, the increase of the sea at the time she disappears. They might, it is true, be told, that there is a similar increase in the tides when the moon becomes full; but when popular notions are once established, the reasons urged against them are but little attended to. It may also be observed, that the moon, when viewed through a telescope, has a humid appearance, and seems to have drops of water suspended from the rim of it; to which circumstance Shakspeare probably alludes in Macbeth where Hecate says: “Upon the corner of the moon “There hangs a vaporous drop,” &c. M. Mason. Shakspeare knew that the moon was the cause of the tides, [See the last Scene of The Tempest,] and in that respect the liquid surge, that is, the waves of the sea, rising one upon another, in the progress of the tide, may be said to resolve the moon into salt tears; the moon, as the poet chooses to state the matter, losing some part of her humidity, and the accretion to the sea, in consequence of her tears being the cause of the liquid surge. Add to this the popular notion, yet prevailing, of the moon's influence on the weather; which, together with what has been already stated, probably induced our author here and in other places to allude to the watry quality of that planet. In Romeo and Juliet, he speaks of her “watry beams.” Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watry moon.” Again, more appositely, in King Richard III: “That I, being govern'd by the watry moon, “May bring forth plenteous tears, to drown the world.” Salt is so often applied by Shakspeare to tears, that there can be no doubt that the original reading is the true one: nor had the poet, as I conceive, dew, at all in his thoughts. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; your salt tears' head &lblank;.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Distasted with the salt of broken tears.” Again in King Richard III.: “Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears.” Again more appositely, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; to drain “Upon his face an ocean of salt tears.” Mr. Tollet idly conjectures, (for conjecture is always idle where there is little difficulty,) that we should read—The main, i. e. the main land or continent. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. I.: “The continent melt itself into the sea.” An observation made by this gentleman in Love's Labour's Lost, had he recollected it, might have prevented him from attempting to disturb the text here: “No alteration should be made in these lines that destroys the artificial structure of them.”—In the first line the sun is the thief: in the second he is himself plundered by that thief, the moon. The moon is subjected to the same fate, and, from being a plunderer, is herself robbed of moisture (line 4th and 5th) by the sea. Malone. I cannot say for a certainty whether Albumazar or this play was first written, as Timon made its earliest appearance in the folio, 1623. Between Albumazar and The Alchymist there has been likewise a contest for the right of eldership. The original of Albumazar was an Italian comedy called Lo Astrologo, written by Battista Porta, the famous physiognomist of Naples, and printed at Venice in 1606. The translator is said to have been a Mr. Tomkis, of Trinity College, Cambridge. The Alchymist was brought on in 1610, which is four years before Albumazar was performed for the entertainment of King James; and Ben Jonson in his title-page boldly claims the merit of having introduced a new subject and new characters on the stage: &lblank; petere inde coronam Unde prius nulli velarint tempora musæ. The play of Albumazar was not entered on the books of the Stationer's Company till April 28, 1615. In Albumazar, however, such examples of thievery likewise occur: “The world's a theatre of theft: Great rivers “Rob smaller brooks; and them the ocean. “And in this world of ours, this microcosm, “Guts from the stomach steal; and what they spare “The meseraicks filch, and lay't i'the liver; “Where (lest it should be found) turn'd to red nectar, “'Tis by a thousand thievish veins convey'd, “And hid in flesh, nerves, bones, muscles, and sinews, “In tendons, skin, and hair; so that the property “Thus alter'd, the theft can never be discover'd. “Now all these pilferies, couch'd, and compos'd in order, “Frame thee and me: Man's a quick mass of thievery.” Steevens. Puttenham, in his Arte of English Poesie, 1589, quotes some one of a “reasonable good facilitie in translation, who finding certaine of Anacreon's Odes very well translated by Ronsard the French poet—comes our minion, and translates the same out of French into English:” and his strictures upon him evince the publication. Now this identical ode is to be met with in Ronsard; and as his works are in few hands, I will take the liberty of transcribing it: La terre les eaux va boivant; L'arbre la boit par sa racine, La mer salee boit le vent, Et le soleil boit la marine. Le soleil est beu de la lune, Tout boit soit en haut ou en bas: Suivant ceste reigle commune, Pourquoy donc ne boirons-nous pas? Edit. fol. p. 507. Farmer. The name of the wretched plagiarist stigmatized by Puttenham, was John Southern, as appears from the only copy of his Poems that has hitherto been discovered. He is mentioned by Drayton in one of his Odes. See also the European Magazine, for June 1778. Steevens.

Note return to page 913 2&lblank; by a composture &lblank;] i. e. composition, compost. Steevens.

Note return to page 914 3The laws, your curb and whip,] So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; most biting laws, “The needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds.” Malone.

Note return to page 915 4&lblank; nothing can you steal,] To complete the measure I would read: “&lblank; where nothing can you steal &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 916 5&lblank; Steal not less,] Not, which was accidentally omitted in the old copy, was inserted by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 917 6'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.] The reason of his advice, says the Thief, is malice to mankind, not any kindness to us, or desire to have us thrive in our mystery. Johnson.

Note return to page 918 7Let us first see peace in Athens: There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.] [Dr. Warburton divides this line between the two thieves.] This and the concluding little speech have in all the editions been placed to one speaker: But, it is evident, the latter words ought to be put in the mouth of the second Thief, who is repenting, and leaving off his trade. Warburton. The second Thief has just said, he'll give over his trade. It is time enough for that, says the first Thief: let us wait till Athens is at peace. There is no hour of a man's life so wretched, but he always has it in his power to become a true, i. e. an honest man. I have explained this easy passage, because it has, I think, been misunderstood. Malone.

Note return to page 919 8What an alteration of honour has Desperate want made!] An alteration of honour, is an alteration of an honourable state to a state of disgrace. Johnson.

Note return to page 920 9How rarely does it meet &lblank;] Rarely for fitly; not for seldom. Warburton. How curiously; how happily. Malone.

Note return to page 921 1When man was wish'd to love his enemies:] We should read—will'd. He forgets his Pagan system here again. Warburton. Wish'd is right. It means recommended. See vol. vi. p. 388, n. 6; and vol. vii. p. 72, n. 6. Reed.

Note return to page 922 2Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me, than those that do!] It is plain, that in this whole speech friends and enemies are taken only for those who profess friendship and profess enmity; for the friend is supposed not to be more kind, but more dangerous than the enemy. The sense is, “Let me rather woo or caress those that would mischief, that profess to mean me mischief, than those that really do me mischief, under false professions of kindness.” The Spaniards, I think, have this proverb: “Defend me from my friends, and from my enemies I will defend myself.” This proverb is a sufficient comment on the passage. Johnson.

Note return to page 923 3&lblank; thou'rt man,] Old copy—“thou'rt a man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 924 4&lblank; that &lblank;] I have supplied this pronoun, for the metre's sake. Steevens.

Note return to page 925 5&lblank; knaves,] Knave is here in the compound sense of a servant and a rascal. Johnson.

Note return to page 926 6&lblank; Pity's sleeping:] I do not know that any correction is necessary, but I think we might read: “&lblank; eyes do never give, “But thorough lust and laughter, pity sleeping:—” Eyes never flow (to give is to dissolve, as saline bodies in moist weather,) but by lust or laughter, undisturbed by emotions of pity. Johnson. Johnson certainly is right in reading—“Pity sleeping.” The following line proves it: “Alcib. &lblank; on thy low grave on faults forgiven.” Surely Theobald's punctuation is preferable to Malone's. M. Mason. “&lblank; Pity's sleeping:” So, in Daniel's second Sonnet, 1594: “Waken her sleeping pity with your crying.” Malone.

Note return to page 927 7&lblank; It almost turns My dangerous nature wild.] i. e. It almost turns my dangerous nature to a dangerous nature; for, by dangerous nature is meant wildness. Shakspeare wrote: “It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.” i. e. It almost reconciles me again to mankind. For fear of that, he puts in a caution immediately after, that he makes an exception but for one man. To which the Oxford editor says, recté. Warburton. This emendation is specious, but even this may be controverted. To turn wild is to distract. “An appearance so unexpected, (says Timon,) almost turns my savageness to distraction.” Accordingly he examines with nicety lest his phrenzy should deceive him: “&lblank; Let me behold “Thy face.—Surely, this man was born of woman &lblank;.” And to this suspected disorder of the mind he alludes: “Perpetual-sober gods!” Ye powers whose intellects are out of the reach of perturbation. Johnson. He who is so much disturbed as to have no command over his actions, and to be dangerous to all around him, is already distracted, and therefore it would be idle to talk of turning such “a dangerous nature wild:” it is wild already. Besides; the baseness and ingratitude of the world might very properly be mentioned as driving Timon into frenzy: (So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “The ingratitude of this Seleucus does “Even make me wild.”) but surely the kindness and fidelity of his Steward was more likely to soften and compose him; that is, to render his dangerous nature mild. I therefore strongly incline to Dr. Warburton's emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 928 8Perpetual-sober &lblank;] Old copy, unmetrically— “You perpetual,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 929 9If not a usuring &lblank;] If not seems to have slipt in here, by an error of the press, from the preceding line. Both the sense and metre would be better without it. Tyrwhitt. I do not see any need of change. Timon asks &lblank;“Has not thy kindness some covert design? Is it not proposed with a view to gain some equivalent in return, or rather to gain a great deal more than thou offerest? Is it not at least the offspring of avarice, if not of something worse, of usury? In this there appears to me no difficulty. Malone. My opinion most perfectly coincides with that of Mr. Tyrwhitt. The sense of the line, with or without the contested words, is nearly the same; yet, by the omission of them, the metre would become sufficiently regular. Steevens.

Note return to page 930 1&lblank; from men;] Away from human habitations. Johnson.

Note return to page 931 2Debts wither them:] Old copy: “Debts wither them to nothing:—” I have omitted the redundant words, not only for the sake of metre, but because they are worthless. Our author has the same phrase in Antony and Cleopatra: “Age cannot wither her &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 932 3Enter Poet and Painter;] The Poet and the Painter were within view when Apemantus parted from Timon, and might then have seen Timon, since Apemantus, standing by him could see them: But the scenes of the Thieves and Steward have passed before their arrival, and yet passed, as the drama is now conducted, within their view. It might be suspected, that some scenes are transposed, for all these difficulties would be removed by introducing the Poet and Painter first, and the Thieves in this place. Yet I am afraid the scenes must keep their present order, for the Painter alludes to the Thieves, when he says, “he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity.” This impropriety is now heightened by placing the thieves in one Act, and the Poet and Painter in another: but it must be remembered, that in the original edition this play is not divided into separate Acts, so that the present distribution is arbitrary, and may be changed if any convenience can be gained, or impropriety obviated by alteration. Johnson. In the immediately preceding scene, Flavius, Timon's steward, has a conference with his master, and receives gold from him. Between this and the present scene, a single minute cannot be supposed to pass; and yet the Painter tells his companion:— “'Tis said he gave his steward a mighty sum.”—Where was it said? Why in Athens, whence, it must therefore seem, they are but newly come. Here then should be fixed the commencement of the fifth Act, in order to allow time for Flavius to return to the city, and for rumour to publish his adventure with Timon. But how are we in this case to account for Apemantus's announcing the approach of the Poet and Painter in the last scene of the preceding Act, and before the Thieves appear? It is possible, that when this play was abridged for representation, all between this passage, and the entrance of the Poet and Painter, may have been omitted by the players, and these words put into the mouth of Apemantus to introduce them; and that when it was published at large, the interpolation was unnoticed. Or, if we allow the Poet and Painter to see Apemantus, it may be conjectured that they did not think his presence necessary at their interview with Timon, and had therefore returned back into the city. Ritson. I am afraid, many of the difficulties which the commentators on our author have employed their abilities to remove, arise from the negligence of Shakspeare himself, who appears to have been less attentive to the connection of his scenes, than a less hasty writer may be supposed to have been. On the present occasion I have changed the beginning of the Act. It is but justice to observe, that the same regulation has already been adopted by Mr. Capell. Reed I perceive no difficulty. It is easy to suppose that the Poet and Painter, after having been seen at a distance by Apemantus, have wandered about the woods separately in search of Timon's habitation. The Painter might have heard of Timon's having given gold to Alcibiades, &c. before the Poet joined him; for it does not appear that they set out from Athens together; and his intelligence concerning the Thieves and the Steward might have been gained in his rambles: or, having searched for Timon's habitation in vain, they might, after having been descried by Apemantus, have returned again to Athens, and the Painter alone have heard the particulars of Timon's bounty.—But Shakspeare was not very attentive to these minute particulars; and if he and the audience knew of the several persons who had partaken of Timon's wealth, he would not scruple to attribute this knowledge to persons who perhaps had not yet an opportunity of acquiring it. The news of the Steward's having been enriched by Timon, though that event happened only in the end of the preceding scene, has, we here find, reached the Painter; and therefore here undoubtedly the fifth Act ought to begin, that a proper interval may be supposed to have elapsed between this and the last. Malone.

Note return to page 933 4&lblank; a palm &lblank; and flourish, &c.] This allusion is scriptural, and occurs in Psalm xcii. 11: “The righteous shall flourish like a palm-tree.” Steevens.

Note return to page 934 5&lblank; the deed of saying is quite out of use.] The doing of that which we have said we would do, the accomplishment and performance of our promise, is, except among the lower classes of mankind, quite out of use. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; In my true-heart “I find she names my very deed of love.” Again, more appositely, in Hamlet: “As he, in his peculiar act and force, “May give his saying deed.” Mr. Pope rejected the words—of saying, and the four following editors adopted his licentious regulation. Malone. I claim the merit of having restored the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 935 6It must be a personating of himself:] Personating, for representing simply. For the subject of this projected satire was Timon's case, not his person. Warburton.

Note return to page 936 7When the day serves, &c.] Theobald with some probability assigns these two lines to the Poet. Malone.

Note return to page 937 8&lblank; before black-corner'd night,] An anonymous correspondent sent me this observation: “As the shadow of the earth's body, which is round, must be necessarily conical over the hemisphere which is opposite to the sun, should we not read black-coned? See Paradise Lost, book iv.” To this observation I might add a sentence from Philemon Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, b. ii.: “Neither is the night any thing else but the shade of the earth. Now the figure of this shadow resembleth a pyramis pointed forward, or a top turned upside down.” I believe, nevertheless, that Shakspeare, by this expression, meant only, “Night which is as obscure as a dark corner. In Measure for Measure, Lucio calls the Duke, “a duke of dark corners.” Mr. M. Mason proposes to read—“black-crown'd night;” another correspondent, “black-cover'd night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 938 9'Fit I do meet them.] For the sake of harmony in this hemistich, I have supplied the auxiliary verb. Steevens.

Note return to page 939 1&lblank; a counterfeit &lblank;] It has been already observed, that a portrait was so called in our author's time: “&lblank; What find I here? “Fair Portia's counterfeit!” Merchant of Venice. Steevens.

Note return to page 940 2&lblank; a made-up villain.] That is, a villain that adopts qualities and characters not properly belonging to him; a hypocrite. Johnson. A made-up villain, may mean a complete, a finished villain. M. Mason.

Note return to page 941 3Nor I.] As it may be supposed (perhaps I am repeating a remark already made on a similar occasion) that our author designed his Poet's address to be not less respectful than that of his Painter, he might originally have finished this defective verse, by writing: “Nor I, my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 942 4&lblank; in a draught,] That is, in the jakes. Johnson. So, in Holinshed, vol. ii. p. 735: “&lblank; he was then sitting on a draught.” Steevens.

Note return to page 943 5&lblank; but two in company:] This is an imperfect sentence, and is to be supplied thus: “But two in company spoils all.” Warburton. This passage is obscure. I think the meaning is this: “but two in company,” that is, stand apart, “let only two be together;” for even when each stands single there are two, he himself and a villain. Johnson. This passage may receive some illustration from another in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “My master is a kind of knave; but that's all one, if he be but one knave.” The sense is, each man is a double villain, i. e. a villain with more than a single share of guilt. See Dr. Farmer's note on the third Act of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, &c. Again, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Go, and a knave with thee.” Again, in The Storye of King Darius, 1565, an interlude: “&lblank; if you needs will go away, “Take two knaves with you by my faye.” There is a thought not unlike this in The Scornful Lady of Beaumont and Fletcher:—“Take to your chamber when you please, there goes a black one with you, lady.” Steevens. There are not two words more frequently mistaken for each other, in the printing of these plays, than but and not. I have no doubt but that mistake obtains in this passage, and that we should read it thus: “&lblank; not two in company: “Each man apart &lblank;.” M. Mason. “You that way, and you this, but two in company: “Each man apart, all single, and alone, “Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.” The first of these lines has been rendered obscure by false pointing; that is, by connecting the words, “but two in company,” with the subsequent line, instead of connecting them with the preceding hemistich. The second and third line are put in apposition with the first line, and are merely an illustration of the assertion contained in it. Do you (says Timon) go that way, and you this, and yet still each of you will have two in your company: each of you, though single and alone, will be accompanied by an arch-villain. Each man, being himself a villain, will take a villain along with him, and so each of you will have two in company. It is a mere quibble founded on the word company. See the former speech, in which Timon exhorts each of them to “hang or stab the villain in his company,” i. e. himself. The passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from Promos and Cassandra, puts the meaning beyond a doubt. Malone.

Note return to page 944 6You have done work, &c.] For the insertion of the word done, which, it is manifest, was omitted by the negligence of the compositor, I am answerable. Timon in this line addresses the Painter, whom he before called “excellent workman;” in the next the Poet. Malone. I had rather read: “You've work'd for me, there is your payment: Hence!” Steevens.

Note return to page 945 7Thou sun that comfort'st, burn!] “Thine eyes,” says King Lear to Regan, “do comfort and not burn.” A similar wish occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “O, sun, “Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!” Steevens.

Note return to page 946 8&lblank; a caut'rizing &lblank;] The old copy reads—cantherizing; the poet might have written, cancering. Steevens. To cauterise was a word of our author's time; being found in Bullokar's English Expositor, octavo, 1616, where it is explained, “To burn to a sore.” It is the word of the old copy, with the u changed to an n, which has happened in almost every one of these plays. Malone.

Note return to page 947 9&lblank; with one consent of love,] With one united voice of affection. So, in Sternhold's translation of the 100th Psalm: “With one consent let all the earth.” All our old writers spell the word improperly, consent, without regard to its etymology, concentus. Malone. This sense of the word consent, or concent, was originally pointed out and ascertained in a note on the first scene of The First Part of King Henry VI. Steevens.

Note return to page 948 1Which now the public body,] Thus the old copy, ungrammatically certainly; but our author frequently thus begins a sentence, and concludes it without attending to what has gone before: for which perhaps, the carelessness and ardour of colloquial language may be an apology. So afterwards in the third scene of this Act: “Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, “Yet our old love made a particular force, “And made us speak like friends.” See also the Poet's second speech in p. 414.—Sir Thomas Hanmer and the subsequent editors read here more correctly—And now the publick body, &c. but by what oversight could Which be printed instead of And? Malone. The mistake might have been that of the transcriber, not the printer. Steevens. It is just as improbable that a transcriber should write which for and, as that a compositor should print one of these words for the other. There is nothing to mislead either the eye or the ear. Malone.

Note return to page 949 2Of its own fall,] The Athenians had sense, that is, felt the danger of their own fall, by the arms of Alcibiades, Johnson. I once suspected that our author wrote—“Of its own fail,” i. e. failure. So, in Coriolanus: “That if you fail in our request, the blame “May hang upon your hardness.” But a subsequent passage fully supports the reading of the text: “&lblank; In, and prepare: “Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare.” Again, in Sc. IV.: “Before proud Athens he's set down by this, “Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.” Malone.

Note return to page 950 3&lblank; restraining aid to Timon;] I think it should be refraining aid, that is, with-holding aid that should have been given to Timon. Johnson. Where is the difference? to restrain, and to refrain, both mean to with-hold. M. Mason.

Note return to page 951 4&lblank; sorrowed render,] Thus the old copy. Render is confession. So in Cymbeline, Act. IV. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; may drive us to a render “Where we have liv'd.” The modern editors read—tender. Steevens.

Note return to page 952 5Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;] This, which was in the former editions, can scarcely be right, and yet I know not whether my reading will be thought to rectify it. I take the meaning to be, ‘We will give thee a recompense that our offences cannot outweigh, heaps of wealth down by the dram, or delivered according to the exactest measure.’ A little disorder may perhaps have happened in transcribing, which may be reformed by reading: “&lblank; Ay, ev'n such heaps, “And sums of love and wealth, down by the dram, “As shall to thee &lblank;.” Johnson. A recompense so large, that the offence they have committed, though every dram of that offence should be put into the scale, cannot counterpoise it. The recompense will outweigh the offence, which instead of weighing down the scale in which it is placed will kick the beam. Malone. The speaker means, a recompense that shall more than counterpoise their offences, though weighed with the most scrupulous exactness. M. Mason.

Note return to page 953 6Allow'd with absolute power,] Allowed is licensed, privileged, uncontrolled. So of a buffoon, in Love's Labour's Lost, it is said, that he is allowed, that is, at liberty to say what he will, a privileged scoffer. Johnson.

Note return to page 954 7&lblank; like a boar, too savage, doth root-up &lblank;] This image might have been caught from Psalm lxxx. 13: “The wild boar out of the wood doth root it up,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 955 8There's not a whittle in the unruly camp,] A whittle is still in the midland counties the common name for a pocket clasp knife, such as children use. Chaucer speaks of a “Sheffield thwittell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 956 9&lblank; of the prosperous gods,] I believe prosperous is used here with our poet's usual laxity, in an active, instead of a passive, sense: ‘the gods who are the authors of the prosperity of mankind.’ So, in Othello: “To my unfolding lend a prosperous ear.” I leave you, says Timon, to the protection of the gods, the great distributors of prosperity, that they may so keep and guard you, as jailors do thieves; i. e. for final punishment. Malone. I do not see why the epithet—prosperous, may not be employed here with its common signification, and mean—‘the gods who are prosperous in all their undertakings.’ Our author, elsewhere, has blessed gods, clear gods, &c. nay, Euripides, in a chorus to his Medea, has not scrupled to style these men of Athens—&grQ;&grE;&grW;&grN; &grp;&gra;&gric;&grd;&gre;&grst; &grM;&grA;&grK;&grA;&grR;&grW;&grN;. Steevens.

Note return to page 957 1&lblank; My long sickness &lblank;] The disease of life begins to promise me a period. Johnson.

Note return to page 958 2&lblank; bruit &lblank;] i. e. report, rumour. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “The bruit whereof will bring you many friends.” Steevens.

Note return to page 959 3Their pangs of love, &c.] Compare this part of Timon's speech with part of the celebrated soliloquy in Hamlet. Steevens.

Note return to page 960 4&lblank; I will some kindness, &c.] i. e. I will do them some kindness, for such, elliptically considered, will be the sense of these words, independent of the supplemental—do them, which only serves to derange the metre, and is, I think, a certain interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 961 5I have a tree, &c.] Perhaps Shakspeare was indebted to Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Prologue, for this thought. He might, however, have found it in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. i. Nov. 28, as well as in several other places. Steevens. Our author was indebted for this thought to Plutarch's Life of Antony: “It is reported of him also, that this Timon on a time, (the people being assembled in the market-place about dispatch of some affaires,) got up into the pulpit for orations, where the orators commonly use to speake unto the people; and silence being made, everie man listeneth to hear what he would say, because it was a wonder to see him in that place, at length he began to speak in this manner: ‘My lordes of Athens, I have a little yard in my house where there groweth a figge tree, on the which many citizens have hanged themselves; and because I meane to make some building upon the place, I thought good to let you all understand it, that before the figge tree be cut downe, if any of you be desperate, you may there in time go hang yourselves.” Malone.

Note return to page 962 6&lblank; in the sequence of degree,] Methodically, from highest to lowest. Johnson.

Note return to page 963 7Whom once a day &lblank;] Old copy—Who. For the correction [whom] I am answerable. Whom refers to Timon. All the modern editors (following the second folio) read—Which once, &c. Malone. Which, in the second folio, (and I have followed it) is an apparent correction of—Who. Surely, it is the everlasting mansion, or the beach on which it stands, that our author meant to cover with the foam, and not the corpse of Timon. Thus we often say that the grave in a churchyard, and not the body within it is trodden down by cattle, or overgrown with weeds. Steevens.

Note return to page 964 8&lblank; embossed froth &lblank;] When a deer was run hard, and foamed at the mouth, he was said to be embossed. See vol. v. p. 361, n. 9. The thought is from Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. i. Nov. 28. Steevens. It is so; and if Mr. Steevens had thought fit to have quoted the passage from Painter, it would have clearly shewn that my reading, formed upon the first folio, whom, was the true one: “By his last will he ordained himselfe to be interred upon the sea shore, that the waves and surges might beate and vexe his dead carcas.” Embossed froth, is swollen froth; from bosse, Fr. a tumour. So, in Henry IV. Part I. the Prince addresses Falstaff: “Why thou whoreson impudent embossed rascal.” The term embossed, when applied to deer, is from emboçar, Span. to cast out of the mouth. Malone.

Note return to page 965 9In our dear peril.] So the folios, and rightly. The Oxford editor alters dear to dread, not knowing that dear, in the language of that time, signified dread, and is so used by Shakspeare in numberless places. Warburton. Dear, in Shakspeare's language, is dire, dreadful. So, in Hamlet: “Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven.” Malone. Dear may, in the present instance, signify immediate, or imminent. It is an enforcing epithet with not always a distinct meaning. To enumerate each of the seemingly various senses in which it may be supposed to have been used by our author, would at once fatigue the reader and myself. In the following situations, however, it cannot signify either dire or dreadful: “Consort with me in loud and dear petition.” Troilus and Cressida. “&lblank; Some dear cause “Will in concealment wrap me up a while.” King Lear. Steevens. It seems, in all these instances, to mean—greatest, most important. So, in Othello: “For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, “Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used “Their dearest action in the tented field.” See vol. ix. p. 257, where Mr. Malone gives the same explanation. Boswell.

Note return to page 966 1&lblank; a courier,] The players read—a currier. Steevens.

Note return to page 967 2&lblank; one mine ancient friend;] Mr. Upton would read—once mine ancient friend. Steevens.

Note return to page 968 3Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love made a particular force, And made us speak like friends:] Our author, hurried away by strong conceptions, and little attentive to minute accuracy, takes great liberties in the construction of sentences. Here he means, ‘Whom, though we were on opposite sides in the publick cause, yet the force of our old affection wrought so much upon as to make him speak to me as a friend. See p. 419, n. 1. Malone. I am fully convinced that this and many other passages of our author to which similar remarks are annexed, have been irretrieveably corrupted by transcribers or printers, and could not have proceeded, in their present state, from the pen of Shakspeare; for what we cannot understand in the closet, must have been wholly useless on the stage.—The aukward repetition of the verb— made, very strongly countenances my present observation. Steevens.

Note return to page 969 4Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man.] [Old copy—read this.] Some beast read what? The Soldier had yet only seen the rude pile of earth heaped up for Timon's grave, and not the inscription upon it. We should read: “Some beast rear'd this;—” The Soldier seeking, by order, for Timon, sees such an irregular mole, as he concludes must have been the workmanship of some beast inhabiting the woods; and such a cavity as must either have been so over-arched, or happened by the casual falling in of the ground. Warburton. “The Soldier (says Theobald) had yet only seen the rude pile of earth heaped up for Timon's grave, and not the inscription upon it.” In support of his emendation, which was suggested to him by Dr. Warburton, he quotes these lines from Fletcher's Cupid's Revenge: “Here is no food, nor beds; nor any house “Built by a better architect than beasts.” Malone. Notwithstanding this remark, I believe the old reading to be the right. “The soldier had only seen the rude heap of earth.” He had evidently seen something that told him Timon was dead; and what could tell that but his tomb? The tomb he sees, and the inscription upon it, which not being able to read, and finding none to read it for him, he exclaims peevishly, “some beast read this,” for it must be read, and in this place it cannot be read by man. There is something elaborately unskilful in the contrivance of sending a Soldier, who cannot read, to take the epithet in wax, only that it may close the play by being read with more solemnity in the last scene. Johnson. I am convinced that the emendation made by Mr. Theobald is right, and that it ought to be admitted into the text:—Some beast rear'd this. Our poet certainly would not make the Soldier call on a beast to read the inscription, before he had informed the audience that he could not read it himself; which he does afterwards. Besides; from the time he asks, “What is this?” [i. e. what is this cave, tomb, &c. not what is this inscription?] to the words, “What's on this tomb,”—the observation evidently relates to Timon himself, and his grave; whereas, by the erroneous reading of the old copy, “Some beast read this,”—the Soldier is first made to call on a beast to read the inscription, without assigning any reason for so extraordinary a requisition;—then to talk of Timon's death and of his grave; and, at last, to inform the audience that he cannot read the inscription. Let me add, that a beast being as unable to read as the Soldier, it would be absurd to call on one for assistance; whilst on the other hand, if a den or cave, or any rude heap of earth resembling a tomb, be found where “there does not live a man,” it is manifest that it must have been formed by a beast. A passage in King Lear also adds support to the emendation: “&lblank; this hard house, “More hard than are the stones whereof 'tis rais'd.” Malone. It is evident, that the Soldier, when he first sees the heap of earth, does not know it to be a tomb. He concludes Timon must be dead, because he receives no answer. It is likewise evident, that when he utters the words some beast, &c. he has not seen the inscription. And Dr. Warburton's emendation is therefore, not only just and happy, but absolutely necessary. “What can this heap of earth be? (says the Soldier;) Timon is certainly dead: some beast must have erected this, for here does not live a man to do it. Yes, he is dead, sure enough, and this must be his grave. What is this writing upon it?” Ritson. The foregoing observations are acute in the extreme, and I have not scrupled to adopt the reading they recommend. Steevens.

Note return to page 970 5&lblank; travers'd arms,] Arms across. Johnson. The same image occurs in The Tempest: “His arms in this sad knot.” Steevens.

Note return to page 971 6&lblank; the time is flush,] A bird is flush when his feathers are grown, and he can leave the nest. Flush is mature. Johnson.

Note return to page 972 7When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, Cries, of itself, No more:] The marrow was supposed to be the original of strength. The image is from a camel kneeling to take up his load, who rises immediately when he finds he has as much laid on as he can bear. Warburton. Pliny says, that the camel will not carry more than his accustomed and usual load. Holland's Translation, b. viii. c. xviii. Reed. The image may as justly be said to be taken from a porter or coal-heaver, who when there is as much laid upon his shoulders as he can bear, will certainly cry, no more. Malone. I wish the reader may not find himself affected in the same manner by our commentaries, and often concur in a similar exclamation. Steevens.

Note return to page 973 8Above their quantity.] Their refers to rages. Warburton. Their refers to griefs. “To give thy rages balm,” must be considered as parenthetical. The modern editors have substituted ingratitudes for ingratitude. Malone.

Note return to page 974 9So did we woo Transformed Timon to our city's love, By humble message, and by promis'd means;] Promis'd means must import the recruiting of his sunk fortunes; but this is not all. The senate had wooed him with humble message, and promise of general reparation. This seems included in the slight change which I have made: “&lblank; and by promis'd mends.” Theobald. Dr. Warburton agrees with Mr. Theobald, but the old reading may well stand. Johnson. “By promis'd means,” is ‘by promising him a competent subsistence.’ So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.” Malone.

Note return to page 975 1You have receiv'd your griefs:] The old copy has—grief; but as the Senator in his preceding speech uses the plural, grief was probably here an error of the press. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 976 2For private faults in them.] That is, in the persons from whom you have received your griefs. Malone.

Note return to page 977 3&lblank; the motives that you first went out;] i. e. those who made the motion for your exile. This word is as perversely employed in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; her wanton spirits look out “At every joint and motive of her body.” Steevens.

Note return to page 978 4Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts.] Shame in excess (i. e. extremity of shame) that they wanted cunning (i. e. that they were not wise enough not to banish you) hath broke their hearts. Theobald. I have no wish to disturb the manes of Theobald, yet think some emendation may be offered that will make the construction less harsh, and the sentence more serious. I read: “Shame that they wanted, coming in excess, “Hath broke their hearts.” “Shame which they had so long wanted, at last coming in its utmost excess.” Johnson. I think that Theobald has, on this occasion, the advantage of Johnson. When the old reading is clear and intelligible, we should not have recourse to correction.—Cunning was not, in Shakspeare's time, confined to a bad sense, but was used to express knowledge or understanding. M. Mason.

Note return to page 979 5&lblank; not square,] Not regular, not equitable. Johnson.

Note return to page 980 6&lblank; revenges:] Old copy—revenge. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. See the preceding speech. Malone.

Note return to page 981 7&lblank; thy Athenian cradle,] Thus Ovid, Met. viii. 99: &lblank; Jovis incunabula Crete. Steevens.

Note return to page 982 8But kill not all together.] The old copy reads—altogether. Mr. M. Mason suggested the correction I have made. Steevens.

Note return to page 983 9&lblank; uncharged ports;] That is, unguarded gates. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide.” Steevens. Uncharged means unattacked, not unguarded. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason is right. So, in Shakspeare's 70th Sonnet: “Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, “Either not assail'd, or victor, being charg'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 984 1&lblank; to atone your fears With my more noble meaning,] i. e. to reconcile them to it, So, in Cymbeline: “I was glad I did atone my countryman and you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 985 2&lblank; not a man Shall pass his quarter,] Not a soldier shall quit his station, or be let loose upon you; and, if any commits violence, he shall answer it regularly to the law. Johnson.

Note return to page 986 3But shall be remedied,] The construction is, ‘But he shall be remedied;’ but Shakspeare means, that his offence shall be remedied, the word offence bring included in offend in a former line. The editor of the second folio, for to, in the last line but one of this speech, substituted by, which all the subsequent editors adopted. Malone. I profess my inability to extract any determinate sense from these words as they stand, and rather suppose the reading in the second folio to be the true one. To be remedied by, affords a glimpse of meaning: to be remedied to, is “the blanket of the dark.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens has mistaken the construction. It is—“At heaviest answer to your laws.” Malone.

Note return to page 987 4Descend, and keep your words.] Old copy—Defend. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 988 5&lblank; for my poor ignorance.] Poor is here used as a dissyllable, as door is in The Merchant of Venice. Malone.

Note return to page 989 6&lblank; caitiffs left!] This epitaph is found in Sir T. North's translation of Plutarch, with the difference of one word only, viz. wretches instead of caitiffs. Steevens. This epitaph is formed out of two distinct epitaphs which Shakspeare found in Plutarch. The first couplet is said by Plutarch to have been composed by Timon himself as his epitaph; the second to have been written by the poet Callimachus. Perhaps the slight variation mentioned by Mr. Steevens, arose from our author's having another epitaph before him, which is found in Kendal's Flowers of Epigrammes, 1577, and in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, vol. i. Nov. 28: “timon his epitaphe. “My wretched caitiffe daies expired now and past, “My carren corps enterred here, is graspt in ground, “In weltring waves of swelling seas by sourges caste; “My name if thou desire, the gods thee doe confound!” Malone.

Note return to page 990 7&lblank; our brain's flow.] Sir Thomas Hanmer and Dr. Warburton read,—brine's flow. Our brains flow, is our tears; but we may read, “our brine's flow.”—‘our salt tears.’ Either will serve. Johnson. “Our brain's flow” is right. So, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “I shed not the tears of my brain.” Again, in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton: “But he from rocks that fountains can command, “Cannot yet stay the fountains of his brain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 991 8&lblank; on faults forgiven.] Alcibiades's whole speech is in breaks, betwixt his reflections on Timon's death, and his addresses to the Athenian Senators: and as soon as he has commented on the place of Timon's grave, he bids the Senate set forward; tells 'em, he has forgiven their faults; and promises to use them with mercy. Theobald. I suspect that we ought to read: “&lblank; One fault's forgiven.—Dead “Is noble Timon;” &c. One fault (viz. the ingratitude of the Athenians to Timon) is forgiven, i. e. exempted from punishment by the death of the injured person. Tyrwhitt. The old reading and punctuation appear to me sufficiently intelligible. Mr. Theobald asks, “why should Neptune weep over Timon's faults, or indeed what fault had he committed?” The faults that Timon committed, were, 1. that boundless prodigality which his Steward so forcibly describes and laments; and 2. his becoming a Misanthrope, and abjuring the society of all men for the crimes of a few.—Theobald supposes that Alcibiades bids the Senate set forward, assuring them at the same time that he forgives the wrongs they have done him. “On;—Faults forgiven.” But how unlikely is it, that he should desert the subject immediately before him, and enter upon another quite different subject, in these three words; and then return to Timon again? to say nothing of the strangeness of the phrase—“faults forgiven,” for “faults are forgiven.” Malone.

Note return to page 992 9&lblank; stint war;] i. e. stop it. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen: “&lblank; 'gan the cunning thief “Persuade us die, to stint all further strife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 993 1&lblank; leech.] i. e. physician. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen: “Her words prevail'd, and then the learned leech “His cunning and hand 'gan to his wounds to lay &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 994 2The play of Timon is a domestick tragedy, and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of the reader. In the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery, but not friendship. In this tragedy, are many passages perplexed, obscure, and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify, or explain with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promise myself that my endeavours shall be much applauded. Johnson. This play was altered by Shadwell, and brought upon the stage in 1678. In the modest title-page he calls it Timon of Athens, or the Man-Hater, as it is acted at the Duke's Theatre, made into a Play. Steevens.

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