Note return to page 1 *See An Attempt to ascertain the Chronology of Shakspeare's plays, vol. ii. Art. Tempest.

Note return to page 2 *“Tragical tales, translated by Turberville in time of his troubles, out of sundrie Italians, with the argument and l'envoye of each tale.” 8vo. 1587. There was a former edition in 1576. On one of this author's comick tales, a work mentioned by Sir John Harrington, there is reason to believe Shakspeare founded his Much Ado About Nothing.

Note return to page 3 *Even the slight circumstance of the place where the ship that carried Gerbino's mistress was built, appears to have dwelled on the poet's mind; and hence perhaps the mention of Carthage and Dido in the second Act of his comedy.

Note return to page 4 †In the library of The Marquis of Stafford. This piece, I think, was written by the author of Solyman and Perseda; and I suspect that Thomas Kyd was the writer of both.

Note return to page 5 *The dress worn by this character, which doubtless was originally prescribed by the poet himself, and has been continued, I believe, since his time, is a large bear-skin, or the skin of some other animal; and he is usually represented with long shaggy hair, as in the foregoing description. In the play we find Stephano speaking of Caliban's two mouths and a forward and backward voice, which may have been suggested by the words above-quoted. In the same scene Caliban asks, “Hast thou dropp'd from heaven?” and in other places twice mentions his dam's god, Setebos. The singing and dauncing of our savage, Act II. Sc. II. (for such is usually the stage representation,) seem to be derived from the same source.

Note return to page 6 †So, in The Tempest, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; Abhorred slave, “Which any point of goodness will not take; “Being capable of all ill, I pitied thee, “Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour “One thing or other; when thou did'st not, savage, “Know thine own meaning, and would'st gabble like “A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes “With words that made them known.”

Note return to page 7 ‡Natural History, translated by Philemon Holland, folio, 1601, p. 136.

Note return to page 8 *Thus Caliban, Act II. Sc. II.: “I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; “And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;” &c. The Devil was usually represented with long unpared nails. See a note on the words—“Pare thy nails, dad,” Twelfth-Night, Act V. Sc. ult. So also, Caliban, when Prospero reproaches him with having attempted to violate the honour of his daughter, replies, “Oh ho, oh ho, would it had been done!” where we have the ordinary exclamation both of the devil when introduced speaking exultingly, and of the Powke or Robin Goodfellow. So, in the well known epitaph: “Oh ho, quoth the devil, 'tis my John a Combe.” See also The Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 284, n. 7.

Note return to page 9 †But neyther here beyng able to bryng his sute to passe, hee caused the matter to bee moved to the kyng of Portugule, Don Alonzo, the fyfth of that name.” Hist. of Travayle, 4to. 1577, p. 2, (b.) It should be remembered that Alphonsus, Alphonse, Alphonzo, and Alonzo, are used indiscriminately for the same Christian name. “And thus shortly after, by means of Alonzo of Quintanilia, Colon [Columbus] was brought to the presence and audience of the cardinall Don Pero Gonzales of Mehooza.” Ibid. p. 3. “The same Franciscus, being partner of the travayles and daungers of Gonzales.” Ibid. p. 153. “Gonzales Ferdinandus Oeviedus of the West Indies.” Ibid. p. 185. “When I had said these words, the teares fell from the eyes of Peter Antonia.” Ibid. p. 410. In p. 354, we have—“Of the north-east frostie sea, and lykewise of the viages of that worthie old man Sebastien Cabot, sometymes governour of the companie of the merchantes of Cathaye in the citie of London;” and his name occurs frequently afterwards.

Note return to page 10 *The story of Claribell in Spenser's poem is nearly the same as that of Hero in Shakspeare's Much Ado About Nothing, and hence might have particularly attracted our poet's notice, though probably he formed that comedy on Turberville's Tale on the same subject.

Note return to page 11 *See Mr. Douce's Observations on Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 8.

Note return to page 12 *This enumeration of persons is taken from the folio 1623. Steevens.

Note return to page 13 1Boatswain,] In this naval dialogue, perhaps the first example of sailor's language exhibited on the stage, there are, as I have been told by a skilful navigator, some inaccuracies and contradictory orders. Johnson. The foregoing observation is founded on a mistake. These orders should be considered as given, not at once, but successively, as the emergency required. One attempt to save the ship failing, another is tried. Malone. See the note at the end of the play. Boswell.

Note return to page 14 2&lblank; fall to't yarely.] i. e. Readily, nimbly. Our author is frequent in his use of this word. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “They'll make his muse as yare as a tumbler.” Steevens. Here it is applied as a sea-term, and in other parts of the scene. So he uses the adjective, Act V. Sc. V.: “Our ship is tight and yare.” And in one of the Henries: “yare are our ships.” To this day the sailors say, “sit yare to the helm.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act II. Sc. III.: “The tackles yarely frame the office.” T. Warton.

Note return to page 15 3Blow, till thou burst thy wind, &c.] Perhaps it might be read: “Blow, till thou burst, wind, if room enough.” Johnson. Perhaps rather—“Blow, till thou burst thee, wind! if room enough.” Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this passage in The Pilgrim: “&lblank; Blow, blow west wind, “Blow till thou rive!” Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “1st Sailor. Blow, and split thyself!” Again, in K. Lear: “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!” Again, in Chapman's version of the fifth book of Homer's Odyssey: “Such as might shield them from the winter's worst, “Though steel it breath'd and blew as it would burst.” Again, in Fletcher's Double Marriage: “&lblank; Rise, winds, “Blow till you burst the air. &lblank;” The allusion in these passages, as Mr. M. Mason observes, is to the manner in which the winds were represented in ancient prints and pictures. Steevens.

Note return to page 16 4Play the men.] i. e. act with spirit, behave like men. So, in Chapman's translation of the second Iliad: “Which doing, thou shalt know what souldiers play the men, “And what the cowards.” Again, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590, p. 2: “Viceroys and peers of Turkey, play the men.” &GRWsa; &grf;&gria;&grl;&gro;&gri;, &gras;&grn;&grea;&grr;&gre;&grst; &gres;&grs;&grt;&greg;, Iliad V. v. 529. Steevens. Again, in Scripture, 2 Sam. x. 12: “Be of good courage, and let us play the men for our people, &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 17 5&lblank; assist the storm.] So, in Pericles: “Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.” Steevens.

Note return to page 18 6&lblank; of the present,] i. e. of the present instant. So, in the 15th chapter of the 1st Epistle to the Corinthians: “&lblank; of whom the greater part remain unto this present.” Steevens.

Note return to page 19 7Gonzalo.] It may be observed of Gonzalo, that, being the only good man that appears with the king, he is the only man that preserves his cheerfulness in the wreck, and his hope on the island. Johnson.

Note return to page 20 8&lblank; bring her to try with main-course.] Probably from Hackluyt's Voyages, 1598: “And when the barke had way, we cut the hauser, and so gate the sea to our friend, and tried out all that day with our maine course.” Malone. This phrase occurs also in Smith's Sea Grammar, 1627, 4to. under the article How to handle a Ship in a Storme: “Let us lie as Trie with our maine course; that is, to hale the tacke aboord, the sheat close aft, the boling set up, and the helme tied close aboord.” P. 40. Steevens.

Note return to page 21 9&lblank; an unstanched wench,] Unstanched, I am willing to believe, means incontinent. Steevens. The meaning is clear from a passage in Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover, Act V. Sc. I. where Chilas says to the frightened priestess: “&lblank; Down you dog, then, “Be quiet and be staunch too: no inundations.” Boswell.

Note return to page 22 1Lay her a-hold, a-hold;] To lay a ship a-hold, is to bring her to lie as near the wind as she can, in order to keep clear of the land, and get her out to sea. Steevens.

Note return to page 23 2&lblank; set her two courses; off to sea again,] The courses are the main sail and fore sail. This term is used by Raleigh, in his Discourse on Shipping. Johnson. The passage, as Mr. Holt has observed, should be pointed, “Set her two courses; off,” &c. Such another expression occurs in Decker's If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in it, 1612: “&lblank; off with your Drablers and your Banners; out with your courses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 24 3merely &lblank;] In this place, signifies absolutely; in which sense it is used in Hamlet, Act I. Sc. III.: “&lblank; Things rank and gross in nature “Possess it merely.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Poetaster: “&lblank; at request “Of some mere friends, some honourable Romans.” Steevens.

Note return to page 25 4&lblank; to glut him.] Shakspeare probably wrote, t' englut him, to swallow him; for which I know not that glut is ever used by him. In this signification, englut, from engloutir, Fr. occurs frequently, as in Henry VI.: “Thou art so near the gulf “Thou needs must be englutted.” And again, in Timon and Othello. Yet Milton writes glutted offal for swallowed, and therefore, perhaps, the present text may stand. Johnson. Thus, in Sir A. Gorges's translation of Lucan, b. vi.: “&lblank; oylie fragments scarcely burn'd, “Together she doth scrape and glut.” i. e. swallow. Steevens.

Note return to page 26 4Mercy on us!&c. &lblank; Farewell, brother! &c.] All these lines have been hitherto given to Gonzalo, who has no brother in the ship. It is probable that the lines succeeding the confused noise within should be considered as spoken by no determinate characters. Johnson. The hint for this stage direction, &c. might have been received from a passage in the second book of Sidney's Arcadia, where the shipwreck of Pyrocles is described, with this concluding circumstance: “But a monstrous cry, begotten of many roaring voyces, was able to infect with feare,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 27 5&lblank; an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer reads—ling, heath, broom, furze. Perhaps rightly, though he has been charged with tautology. I find in Harrison's description of Britain, prefixed to our author's good friend Holinshed, p. 91: “Brome, heth, firze, brakes, whinnes, ling,” &c. Farmer. Mr. Tollet has sufficiently vindicated Sir Thomas Hanmer from the charge of tautology, by favouring me with specimens of three different kinds of heath which grow in his own neighbourhood. I would gladly have inserted his observations at length; but, to say the truth, our author, like one of Cato's soldiers who was bit by a serpent, Ipse latet penitus congesto corpore mersus. Steevens.

Note return to page 28 6But that the sea, &c.] So in King Lear: “The sea in such a storm as his bare head “In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up, “And quench'd the stelled fires.” Malone. Thus, in Chapman's version of the 21st Iliad: “&lblank; as if his waves would drowne the skie, “And put out all the sphere of fire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 29 7&lblank; creatures in her,] The old copy reads—creature; but the preceding as well as subsequent words of Miranda seem to demand the emendation which I have received from Theobald. Steevens.

Note return to page 30 8&lblank; or e'er &lblank;] i. e. before. So, in Ecclesiastes, xii. 6: “Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken &lblank;.” Again, in our author's Cymbeline: “&lblank; or e'er I could “Give him that parting kiss &lblank;.” Steevens. Mr. Douce, in his Illustrations of Shakspeare, says, that ‘the word e'er should be written ere, and not ever, nor contractedly e'er, with which it has no connexion. It is pure Saxon ær. The corruption in Ecclesiastes cited in the note [by Mr. Steevens] is as old as the time of Henry the Eighth.’ Mr. Douce's opinions leave room for controversy on very few occasions indeed; on this, however, it may be observed: 1st. That the use of or for ere is, at least, as old as Chaucer's time. See Canterbury Tales: “Yet would he have a ferthing or he went.” V. 257. “Therfore I rede you this conseil take, “Forsaketh sinne, or sinne you forsake.” V. 12220. “Long erst or prime rong of any bell.” V. 12596. “For paramour I loved him first or thou.” V. 1157. And 2d. That the Saxon ær and æfre—[ær—prius, antequam, priusquam,—ere, or,—sooner than, before;—æfre—aliquando, unquam,—ever, e'er,—at any time;] are two distinct words. Ere ever, or ever, or ere, is, in more modern English, sooner than at any time; and this is the sense in which Shakspeare and the elder authors constantly use the phrase. The other meanings of these two Saxon words, being inapplicable to the present question, are purposely passed by. Kemble.

Note return to page 31 *First folio, fraughting.

Note return to page 32 9Pro. No harm.] I know not whether Shakspeare did not make Miranda speak thus: “O, woe the day! no harm?” To which Prospero properly answers: “I have done nothing but in care of thee.” Miranda, when she speaks the words, “O, woe the day!” supposes, not that the crew had escaped, but that her father thought differently from her and counted their destruction “no harm.” Johnson.

Note return to page 33 1&lblank; more better &lblank;] This ungrammatical expression is very frequent among our oldest writers. So, in The History of Helyas Knight of the Swan, bl. l. no date, imprinted by Wm. Copland: “And also the more sooner to come, without prolixity, to the true Chronicles,” &c. Again, in the True Tragedies of Marius and Scilla, 1594: “To wait a message of more better worth.” Again, ibid.: “That hale more greater than Cassandra now.” Steevens.

Note return to page 34 2&lblank; full poor cell,] i. e. a cell in a great degree of poverty. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “I am full sorry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 35 3Did never meddle with my thoughts.] i. e. mix with them. To meddle is often used with this sense, by Chaucer. Hence the substantive medley. The modern and familiar phrase by which that of Miranda may be explained, is—“never entered my thoughts—never came into my head.” Steevens. See Howell's Dict. 1660, in v. to meddle; “se mesler de.” Malone. It should rather mean—‘to interfere, to trouble, to busy itself,’ as still used in the North, e. g. Don't meddle with me; i. e. Let me alone; Don't molest me. Ritson.

Note return to page 36 4Lie there my art.] Sir Will. Cecil, lord Burleigh, lord high treasurer, &c. in the reign of queen Elizabeth, when he put off his gown at night, used to say, Lie there, Lord Treasurer. Fuller's Holy State, p. 257. Steevens.

Note return to page 37 5&lblank; virtue of compassion &lblank;] Virtue; the most efficacious part, the energetic quality; in a like sense we say, “The virtue of a plant is in the extract.” Johnson.

Note return to page 38 6&lblank; that there is no soul &lblank;] Thus the old editions read; but this is apparently defective. Mr. Rowe, and after him Dr. Warburton, read—‘that there is no soul lost,’ without any notice of the variation. Mr. Theobald substitutes no foil, and Mr. Pope follows him. To come so near the right, and yet to miss it, is unlucky: the author probably wrote no soil, no stain, no spot; for so Ariel tells: “Not a hair perish'd; “On their sustaining garments not a blemish, “But fresher than before.” And Gonzalo, “The rarity of it is, that our garments being drenched in the sea, keep notwithstanding their freshness and glosses.” Of this emendation I find that the author of notes on The Tempest had a glimpse, but could not keep it. Johnson. “&lblank; no soul.” Such interruptions are not uncommon to Shakspeare. He sometimes begins a sentence, and, before he concludes it, entirely changes its construction, because another, more forcible, occurs. As this change frequently happens in conversation, it may be suffered to pass uncensured in the language of the stage. Steevens.

Note return to page 39 7&lblank; not so much perdition as an hair, Betid to any creature in the vessel &lblank;] Had Shakspeare in his mind St. Paul's hortatory speech to the ship's company, where he assures them that, though they were to suffer shipwreck, “not an hair should fall from the head of any of them?” Acts, xxvii. 34. Ariel afterwards says, “Not a hair perish'd.” Holt White.

Note return to page 40 8Out three years old.] i. e. Quite three years old, three years old full-out, complete. So, in the 4th Act: “And be a boy right out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 41 9&lblank; abysm of time?] i. e. Abyss. This method of spelling the word is common to other ancient writers. They took it from the French abysme, now written abime. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “And chase him from the deep abysms below.” Steevens.

Note return to page 42 1Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since,] Years, in the first instance, is used as a dissyllable, in the second as a monosyllable. But this is not a licence peculiar to the prosody of Shakspeare. In the second book of Sidney's Arcadia are the following lines, exhibiting the same word with a similar prosodiacal variation: “And shall she die? shall cruel fier spill “Those beames that set so many hearts on fire?” Steevens.

Note return to page 43 2A princess;—no worse issued.] The old copy reads— “And princess.” For the trivial change in the text I am answerable. Issued is descended. So, in Greene's Card of Fancy, 1608: “For I am by birth a gentleman, and issued of such parents,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 44 3&lblank; teen &lblank;] Is sorrow, grief, trouble. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; to my teen be it spoken.” Steevens.

Note return to page 45 4&lblank; whom to advance, and whom &lblank;] The old copy has who in both places. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 46 5To trash for over-topping;] To trash, as Dr. Warburton observes, is to cut away the superfluities. This word I have met with in books containing directions for gardeners, published in the time of Queen Elizabeth. The present explanation may be countenanced by the following passage in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. x. ch. 57: “Who suffreth none by might, by wealth or blood to overtopp, “Himself gives all preferment, and whom listeth him doth lop.” Again, in our author's K. Richard II.: “Go thou, and, like an executioner, “Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays “That look too lofty in our commonwealth.” Mr. Warton's note, however, on “trash for his quick hunting,” in the second act of Othello, leaves my interpretation of this passage somewhat disputable. Mr. M. Mason observes, that “‘to trash for overtopping,’ may mean to lop them, because they did overtop, or in order to prevent them from overtopping.” So Lucetta, in the second scene of the Two Gentlemen of Verona, says: “I was taken up for laying them down, Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.” That is, lest they should catch cold. See the notes on this passage. In another place (a note on Othello) Mr. M. Mason observes, that Shakspeare had probably in view, when he wrote the passage before us, “the manner in which Tarquin conveyed to Sextus his advice to destroy the principal citizens of Gabii, by striking off, in the presence of his messengers, the heads of all the tallest poppies, as he walked with them in his garden. Steevens. I think this phrase means “to correct for too much haughtiness or overbearing.” It is used by sportsmen in the North when they correct a dog for misbehaviour in pursuing the game. This explanation is warranted by the following passage in Othello, Act II. Sc. I.: “If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash “For his quick hunting.” It was not till after I had made this remark, that I saw Mr. Warton's note on the above lines in Othello, which corroborates it. Douce. A trash is a term still in use among hunters, to denote a piece of leather, couples, or any other weight fastened round the neck of a dog, when his speed is superior to the rest of the pack; i. e. when he over-tops them, when he hunts too quick. C. See Othello, vol. ix. p. 315, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 47 6&lblank; both the key &lblank;] This is meant of a key for tuning the harpsichord, spinnet, or virginal; we call it now a tuning hammer. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 48 7Of officer and office, set all hearts &lblank;] The old copy reads— “all hearts i' th' state,” but redundantly in regard to metre, and unnecessarily respecting sense; for what hearts, except such as were i' th' state, could Alonso incline to his purposes? I have followed the advice of Mr. Ritson, who judiciously proposes to omit the words now ejected from the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 49 8And suck'd my verdure out on't.] So, in Arthur Hall's translation of the first book of Homer, 1581, where Achilles swears by his sceptre: “Who having lost the sapp of wood, eft greenenesse cannot drawe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 50 9I pray thee, mark me.] In the old copy, these words are the beginning of Prospero's next speech; but, for the restoration of metre, I have changed their place. Steevens. Mr. Steevens placed these words at the close of Prospero's preceding speech. Boswell.

Note return to page 51 1I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate &lblank;] The old copy has—dedicated; but we should read, as in Mr. Steevens's text, dedicate. Thus, in Measure for Measure: “Prayers from fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate “To nothing temporal.” Ritson.

Note return to page 52 2Like a good parent, &c.] Alluding to the observation, that a father above the common rate of men has commonly a son below it. Heroum filii noxæ. Johnson.

Note return to page 53 3&lblank; like one, Who having, unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie,] There is, perhaps, no correlative to which the word it can with grammatical propriety belong. Lie, however, seems to have been the correlative to which the poet meant to refer, however ungrammatically. The old copy reads—“into truth.” The necessary correction was made by Dr. Warburton. Steevens. Mr. Steevens justly observes that there is no correlative, &c. This observation has induced me to mend the passage, and to read: “Who having unto truth, by telling oft”—instead of, of it. And I am confirmed in this conjecture, by the following passage quoted by Mr. Malone, &c. M. Mason. There is a very singular coincidence between this passage and one in Bacon's History of King Henry VII. [Perkin Warbeck] “did in all things notably acquit himself; insomuch as it was generally believed, that he was indeed Duke Richard. Nay, himself, with long and continual counterfeiting, and with oft telling a lye, was turned by habit almost into the thing he seemed to be; and from a liar to be a believer.” Malone. Mr. Mason's emendation would not much help the passage. What would he be said to be telling? The sentence is involved, but not, I think, ungrammatical. “Who having made his memory such a sinner to truth as to credit his own lie by telling of it?” Boswell.

Note return to page 54 4He was the duke; out of the substitution,] The old copy reads—“He was indeed the duke.” I have omitted the word indeed, for the sake of metre. The reader should place his emphasis on—was. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 5&lblank; Me, poor man!—my library Was dukedom large enough;] i. e. large enough for. Of this kind of ellipsis see various examples in a note on Cymbeline, vol. xiii. p. 228, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 56 6(So dry he was for sway)] i. e. So thirsty. The expression, I am told, is not uncommon in the midland counties. Thus, in Leicester's Commonwealth: “against the designments of the hasty Erle who thirsteth a kingdome with great intemperance.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “His ambition is dry.” Steevens. Our author has a similar expression in Love's Labour's Lost: “My true love's fasting pain.” So also, in King Henry IV. Part I. Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; Moody beggars starving for a time “Of pell-mell havock and confusion.” Talbot.

Note return to page 57 7To think but nobly &lblank;] But, in this place, signifies otherwise than. Steevens.

Note return to page 58 8&lblank; in lieu o' the premises, &c.] In lieu of, means here, in consideration of; an unusual acceptation of the word. So, in Fletcher's Prophetess, the chorus, speaking of Drusilla, says: “But takes their oaths, in lieu of her assistance, “That they shall not presume to touch their lives.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 59 9&lblank; cried out &lblank;] Perhaps we should read—cried on't. Steevens.

Note return to page 60 1&lblank; a hint,] Hint is suggestion. So, in the beginning speech of the second act: “&lblank; our hint of woe “Is common &lblank;.” A similar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra, Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; it is a tidings “To wash the eyes of kings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 61 2That wrings mine eyes.] i. e. squeezes the water out of them. The old copy reads— “That wrings mine eyes to't.” To what? every reader will ask. I have, therefore, by the advice of Dr. Farmer, omitted these words, which are unnecessary to the metre; hear, at the beginning of the next speech, being used as a dissyllable. To wring, in the sense I contend for, occurs in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. II.: “his cook, or his laundry, or his washer, and his wringer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 62 2&lblank; of a boat.] The old copy reads—of a butt. Henley. It was corrected by Mr. Rowe. “In few, they hurried us aboard a bark; “Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar'd “A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, “Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats “Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,” &c. When Shakspeare attributed to the usurper of Prospero's dukedom this cruel treatment of his brother, had he not in his thoughts the atrocious conduct of Athelstane, the natural son of Edward the elder, and the twenty-fifth king of the West-Saxons, who on the death of his father was wrongfully seated on the throne; and a few years afterwards (anno 934) on the pretended ground of a conspiracy against him by his brother Edwin, according to Bromton the eldest legitimate son of Edward, consigned him to destruction in the manner here described? The fact was originally told by William of Malmesbury, and is thus related by Holinshed in his Chronicle, in 1586, vol. i. p. 155: “After this was Edwin, the kings brother, accused of some conspiracie by him begun against the king: wherupon he was banished the land; and sent out in an old rotten vessel, without rowers or mariner; onelie accompanied with one esquier: so that being lanched foorth from the shore, through despaire Edwin leapt into the sea, and drowned him selfe.” Speed, in his Chronicle, which was published in 1611, and might have appeared early enough in that year to have fallen into our author's hands while he was writing this play, relates the same fact thus: “A deepe jealousie possessing the king that his [Edwin's] title was too neere the crowne, he caused him to be put into a little pinnace, without either tackle or oars, one only page accompanying him, that his death might be imputed to the waves,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 63 3&lblank; had quit it:] Old copy—have quit it. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. Quit was used by Shakspeare and his contemporaries for quitted. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; 'Twas he inform'd against him, “And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment “Might have the freer course.” So, in King Henry VI. Part I. lift for lifted: “He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered.” Malone.

Note return to page 64 4To cry to the sea that roar'd to us;] This conceit occurs again in The Winter's Tale:—“How the poor souls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 65 5&lblank; deck'd the sea &lblank;] “To deck the sea,” if explained, ‘to honour, adorn, or dignify,’ is indeed ridiculous, but the original import of the verb deck, is to cover; so in some parts they yet say deck the table. This sense may be borne, but perhaps the poet wrote fleck'd, which I think is still used in rustic language of drops falling upon water. Dr. Warburton reads mock'd; the Oxford edition brack'd. Johnson. Vestegan, p. 61, speaking of beer, says “So the overdecking or covering of beer came to be called berham, and afterwards barme.” This very well supports Dr. Johnson's explanation. The following passage in Antony and Cleopatra may countenance the verb deck in its common acceptation: “&lblank; do not please sharp fate “To grace it with your sorrows.” What is this but decking it with tears? Again, our author's Caliban says, Act III. Sc. II.: “&lblank; He has brave utensils, “Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.” Steevens. To deck, I am told, signifies in the North, to sprinkle. See Ray's Dict. of North Country Words, in verb. to deg, and to deck; and his Dict. of South Country Words, in verb. dag. The latter signifies dew upon the grass;—hence daggle-tailed. In Cole's Latin Dictionary, 1679, we find,—“To dag, collutulo, irroro.” Malone. A correspondent, who signs himself Eboracensis, proposes that this contested word should be printed degg'd, which, says he, signifies sprinkled, and is in daily use in the North of England. When clothes that have been washed are too much dried, it is necessary to moisten them before they can be ironed, which is always done by sprinkling; this operation the maidens universally call degging. Reed.

Note return to page 66 6An undergoing stomach.] Stomach is stubborn resolution. So, Horace: “&lblank; gravem Pelidæ stomachum.” Steevens.

Note return to page 67 7Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, (who being then appointed Master of this design,) did give us;] Mr. Steevens has suggested, that we might better read—he being then appointed; and so we should certainly now write: but the reading of the old copy is the true one, that mode of phraseology being the idiom of Shakspeare's time. So, in the Winter's Tale: “&lblank; This your son-in-law, “And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) “Is troth-plight to your daughter.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; waving thy hand, “Which, often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, “Now humble as the ripest mulberry, “That will not hold the handling; or, say to them,” &c. Malone. I have left the passage in question as I found it, though with slender reliance on its integrity. What Mr. Malone has styled “the idiom of Shakspeare's time,” can scarce deserve so creditable a distinction. It should be remembered that the instances adduced by him in support of his position are not from the early quartos, which he prefers on the score of accuracy, but from the folio 1623, the inaccuracy of which, with equal judgement, he has censured. The genuine idiom of our language, at its different periods, can only be ascertained by reference to contemporary writers whose works were skilfully revised as they passed through the press, and are therefore unsuspected of corruption. A sufficient number of such books are before us. If they supply examples of phraseology resembling that which Mr. Malone would establish, there is an end of controversy between us: Let, however, the disputed phrases be brought to their test before they are admitted; for I utterly refuse to accept the jargon of theatres and the mistakes of printers, as the idiom or grammar of the age in which Shakspeare wrote. Every gross departure from literary rules may be countenance, if we are permitted to draw examples from vitiated pages; and our readers, as often as they meet with restorations founded on such authorities, may justly exclaim, with Othello,—“Chaos is come again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 68 8Now I arise:] Why does Prospero arise? Or, if he does it to ease himself by change of posture, why need he interrupt his narrative to tell his daughter of it? Perhaps these words belong to Miranda, and we should read: “Mir. 'Would I might “But ever see that man!—Now I arise. “Pro. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.” Prospero, in p. 26, had directed his daughter to sit down, and learn the whole of this history; having previously by some magical charm disposed her to fall asleep. He is watching the progress of this charm; and in the mean time tells her a long story, often asking her whether her attention be still awake. The story being ended (as Miranda supposes) with their coming on shore, and partaking of the conveniences provided for them by the loyal humanity of Gonzalo, she therefore first expresses a wish to see the good old man, and then observes that she may now arise, as the story is done. Prospero, surprized that his charm does not yet work, bids her sit still; and then enters on fresh matter to amuse the time, telling her (what she knew before) that he had been her tutor, &c. But soon perceiving her drowsiness coming on, he breaks off abruptly, and leaves her still sitting to her slumbers. Blackstone. As the words—“now I arise”—may signify, “now I rise in my narration,”—“now my story heightens in its consequence,” I have left the passage in question undisturbed. We still say, that the interest of a drama rises or declines. Steevens.

Note return to page 69 9&lblank; princes &lblank;] The first folio reads—princesse. Henley. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 70 1Now my dear lady,] i. e. now my auspicious mistress. Steevens.

Note return to page 71 2I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star; whose influence If now I court not, but omit, &c.] So, in Julius Cæsar: “There is a tide in the affairs of man, “Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; “Omitted, all the voyage of their life “Is bound in shallows and in miseries.” Malone.

Note return to page 72 3&lblank; 'tis a good dulness,] Dr. Warburton rightly observes, that this sleepiness, which Prospero by his art had brought upon Miranda, and of which he knew not how soon the effect would begin, makes him question her so often whether she is attentive to his story. Johnson.

Note return to page 73 4All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, &c.] Imitated by Fletcher, in The Faithful Shepherdess: “&lblank; tell me sweetest, “What new service now is meetest “For the satyre; shall I stray “In the middle ayre, and stay “The sailing racke, or nimbly take “Hold by the moone, and gently make “Suit to the pale queene of night, “For a beame to give thee light? “Shall I dive into the sea, “And bring thee coral, making way “Through the rising waves,” &c. Henley.

Note return to page 74 5On the curl'd clouds;] So, in Timon—Crisp heaven. Steevens.

Note return to page 75 6&lblank; and all his quality.] i. e. all his confederates, all who are of the same profession. So, in Hamlet: “Come give us a taste of your quality.” See vol. vii. p. 293, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 76 7Perform'd to point &lblank;] i. e. to the minutest article; a literal translation of the French phrase—a point. So, in The Chances, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; are you all fit? “To point, sir.” Thus, in Chapman's version of the second book of Homer's Odyssey, we have “&lblank; every due “Perform'd to full:”— Steevens.

Note return to page 77 8&lblank; now on the beak,] The beak was a strong pointed body at the head of the ancient gallies; it is used here for the forecastle, or the boltsprit. Johnson. So in Philemon Holland's translation of the 2d chapter of the 32d book of Pliny's Natural History:—“our goodly tall and proud ships, so well armed in the beake-head with yron pikes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 78 9Now in the waist,] The part between the quarter-deck and the forecastle. Johnson.

Note return to page 79 1&lblank; Sometimes, I'd divide, And burn in many places;] Perhaps our author, when he wrote these lines, remembered the following passage in Hackluyt's Voyages, 1598: “I do remember that in the great and boysterous storme of this foule weather, in the night there came upon the toppe of our maine yard and maine-mast a certaine little light, much like unto the light of a little candle, which the Spaniards call the Cuerpo Santo. This light continued abord our ship about three houres, flying from maste to maste, and from top to top; and sometimes it would be in two or three places at once.” So also De Loier, speaking of “strange sights happening in the seas,” Treatise of Spectres, 4to. 1605, p. 67, b: “Sometimes they shall see the fire which the saylors call Saint Hermes, to fly uppon their shippe, and to alight upon the toppe of the mast; and sometimes they shall perceive a wind that stirreth such stormes as will run round about their shippe, and play about it in such sort, as by the hurling and beating of the clowdes will rayse uppe a fire that will burne uppe the yardes, the sayles, and the tacklings of the shippe.” While the English lay at the Bermudas, in their way to Virginia, [that is, in the year 1609 and part of 1610, when they were shipwrecked there] says Harris from the memoirs of Smith, Norwood and Strachie, “there was an extraordinary halo seen, and the thunder and lightning that followed upon it, was such as almost frighted them out of their wits.” Malone. Burton says, that the Spirits of fire, in form of fire-drakes and blazing stars, “oftentimes sit on ship-masts,” &c. Melanch. Part I. § 2, p. 30, edit. 1632. T. Warton.

Note return to page 80 2&lblank; precursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps.] So, in King Lear: “'Vant couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 81 3Yea, his dread trident shake.] Lest the metre should appear defective, it is necessary to apprize the reader, that in Warwickshire and other midland counties, shake is still pronounced by the common people as if it was written shaake, a dissyllable. Farmer. The word shake is so printed in Golding's version of the 9th book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, edit. 1575: “Hee quaak't and shaak't and looked pale,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 82 4But felt a fever of the mad,] If it be at all necessary to explain the meaning, it is this: ‘Not a soul but felt such a fever as madmen feel, when the frantic fit is upon them.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 83 5&lblank; and quit the vessel,] Quit is, I think, here used for quitted. See before, p. 36:   “&lblank; they prepar'd “A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, “Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats “Instinctively had quit it: &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 84 6&lblank; sustaining &lblank;] i. e. their garments that bore them up and supported them. Thus, in Chapman's translation of the eleventh Iliad: “Who fell, and crawled upon the earth with his sustaining palmes.” Again, in King Lear, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “In our sustaining corn.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; Her clothes spread wide “And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up.” Mr. M. Mason, however, observes that “the word sustaining in this place does not mean supporting, but enduring; and by their sustaining garments, Ariel means their garments which bore, without being injured, the drenching of the sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 85 7From the still-vex'd Bermoothes,] Fletcher, in his Women Pleased, says, “The devil should think of purchasing that eggshell to victual out a witch for the Beermoothes.” Smith, in his account of these islands, p. 172, says, “that the Bermudas were so fearful to the world, that many called them The Isle of Devils.”— p. 174: “to all seamen no less terrible than an inchanted den of furies.” And no wonder, for the clime was extremely subject to storms and hurricanes; and the islands were surrounded with scattered rocks lying shallowly hid under the surface of the water. Warburton. The epithet here applied to the Bermudas, will be best understood by those who have seen the chafing of the sea over the rugged rocks by which they are surrounded, and which render access to them so dangerous. It was in our poet's time the current opinion, that Bermudas was inhabited by monsters, and devils.— Setebos, the god of Caliban's dam, was an American devil, worshipped by the giants of Patagonia. Henley. Again, in Decker's If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in it, 1612: “Sir, if you have made me tell a lye, they'll send me on a voyage to the island of Hogs and Devils, the Bermudas.” Steevens. The opinion that Bermudas was haunted with evil spirits continued so late as the civil wars. In a little piece of Sir John Berkinghead's intitled, Two Centuries of Paul's Church-yard, una cum indice expurgatorio, &c. 12mo in page 62, under the title Cases of Conscience, is this: “34. Whether Bermudas and the Parliament-house lie under one planet, seeing both are haunted with devils.” Percy. Bermudas was on this account the cant name for some privileged place, in which the cheats and riotous bullies of Shakspeare's time assembled. So, in The Devil is an Ass, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; keeps he still your quarter “In the Bermudas?” Again, in one of his Epistles: “Have their Bermudas, and their straights i' th' Strand.” Again, in The Devil is an Ass: “&lblank; I gave my word “For one that's run away to the Bermudas.” Steevens.

Note return to page 86 8&lblank; the Mediterranean flote,] Flote is wave. Flot, Fr. Steevens.

Note return to page 87 9What is the time o' the day?] This passage needs not be disturbed, it being common to ask a question, which the next moment enables us to answer: he that thinks it faulty, may easily adjust it thus: “Pro. What is the time o' the day? Past the mid season? “Ari. At least two glasses. “Pro. The time 'twixt six and now &lblank;.” Johnson. Mr. Upton proposes to regulate this passage differently: “Ariel. Past the mid season, at least two glasses. “Pro. The time,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 88 1Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd. &lblank;] The old copy has— “Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd &lblank;.” The repetition of a word will be found a frequent mistake in the ancient editions. Ritson.

Note return to page 89 2Dost thou forget &lblank;] That the character and conduct of Prospero may be understood, something must be known of the system of enchantment, which supplied all the marvellous found in the romances of the middle ages. This system seems to be founded on the opinion that the fallen spirits, having different degrees of guilt, had different habitations allotted them at their expulsion, some being confined in hell, “some (as Hooker, who delivers the opinion of our poet's age, expresses it,) dispersed in air, some on earth, some in water, others in caves, dens, or minerals under the earth.” Of these, some were more malignant and mischievous than others. The earthy spirits seem to have been thought the most depraved, and the aerial the less vitiated. Thus Prospero observes of Ariel: “&lblank; Thou wast a spirit too delicate “To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands.” Over these spirits a power might be obtained by certain rites performed or charms learned. This power was called The black Art, or Knowledge of Enchantment. The enchanter being (as king James observes in his Demonology) “one who commands the devil, whereas the witch serves him.” Those who thought best of this art, the existence of which was, I am afraid, believed very seriously, held that certain sounds and characters had a physical power over spirits, and compelled their agency; others who condemned the practice, which in reality was surely never practised, were of opinion with more reason, that the power of charms arose only from compact, and was no more than the spirits voluntarily allowed them for the seduction of man. The art was held by all, though not equally criminal, yet unlawful, and therefore Casaubon, speaking of one who had commerce with spirits, blames him, though he imagines him one of the best kind, who dealt with them by way of command. Thus Prospero repents of his art in the last scene. The spirits were always considered as in some measure enslaved to the enchanter, at least for a time, and as serving with unwillingness; therefore Ariel so often begs for liberty; and Caliban observes, that the spirits serve Prospero with no good will, but hate him rootedly.—Of these trifles enough. Johnson.

Note return to page 90 3The foul witch Sycorax,] This idea might have been caught from Dionyse Settle's Reporte of the Last Voyage of Capteine Frobisher, 12mo. bl. l. 1577. He is speaking of a woman found on one of the islands described. “The old wretch, whome diuers of ovr Saylers supposed to be a Diuell, or a Witche, plucked off her buskins, to see if she were clouen footed, and for her ougly hewe and deformitie we let her goe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 91 4&lblank; in Argier.] Argier is the ancient English name for Algiers. See a pamphlet entitled, A true Relation of the Travailes, &c. of William Davies, Barber-surgeon, &c. 1614. In this is a chapter “on the description, &c. of Argier.” Steevens.

Note return to page 92 5&lblank; for one thing she did, They would not take her life:] What that one thing was which saved the life of Sycorax, the poet has nowhere informed us. I cannot but think that this adds support to the opinion that there was some novel upon which the fable of The Tempest was founded, in which this circumstance was mentioned, to which Shakspeare thought it sufficient to refer. Boswell.

Note return to page 93 5&lblank; to a nymph o' the sea;] There does not appear to be sufficient cause why Ariel should assume this new shape, as he was to be invisible to all eyes but those of Prospero. Steevens.

Note return to page 94 6Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else.] The old copy reads— “Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisible,” &c. But redundancy in the first line, and the ridiculous precaution that Ariel should not be invisible to himself, plainly prove that the words—and thine, were the interpolations of ignorance. Steevens. “Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject “To no sight but thine and mine; invisible, &c.” The words —“be subject”—having been transferred in the first copy of this play to the latter of these lines, by the carelessness of the transcriber or printer, the editor of the second folio, to supply the metre of the former line, introduced the word to;—reading, “like to a nymph o' the sea.” The regulation that I have made, shows that the addition, like many others made by that editor, was unnecessary. If Ariel looked in that glass which made Narcissus enamoured of himself, his own image would be reflected, unless we were to read with Steevens and the second folio; for theu he would be visible only to Prospero, and invisible to himself. Malone. My arrangement of this passage admits the word to, which, I think, was judiciously restored by the editor of the second folio. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's arrangement is as follows: “Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea; “Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 95 7And hither come in't: hence, with diligence.] The old copy reads— “And hither come in't: go, hence, with diligence.” The transcriber or compositor had caught the word go from the preceding line. Ritson.

Note return to page 96 8The strangeness &lblank;] Why should a wonderful story produce sleep? I believe experience will prove, that any violent agitation of the mind easily subsides in slumber, especially when, as in Prospero's relation, the last images are pleasing. Johnson. The poet seems to have been apprehensive that the audience, as well as Miranda, would sleep over this long but necessary tale, and therefore strives to break it. First, by making Prospero divest himself of his magic robe and wand: then by waking her attention no less than six times by verbal interruption: then by varying the action when he rises and bids her continue sitting: and lastly, by carring on the business of the fable while Miranda sleeps, by which she is continued on the stage till the poet has occasion for her again. Warner.

Note return to page 97 9We cannot miss him:] That is, we cannot do without him. M. Mason. This provincial expression is still used in the midland counties. Malone.

Note return to page 98 1Come, thou tortoise! when?] This expression of impatience occurs often in our old dramas. So, in Julius Cæsar, vol. xii. p. 34: “When, Lucius, when?” Malone. It is found also in the extracts from Middleton's Witch, vol. xi. p. 293: “Give me marmaratin; some beare-breech: when?” Boswell. This interrogation, indicative of impatience in the highest degree, occurs also in King Richard II. Act I. Sc. I.: “When, Harry?” See note on this passage. In Prospero's summons to Caliban, however, as it stands in the old copy, the word forth (which I have repeated for the sake of metre) [come forth] is wanting. Steevens.

Note return to page 99 2Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both!] It was a tradition, it seems, that Lord Falkland, Lord C. J. Vaughan, and Mr. Selden, concurred in observing, that Shakspeare had not only found out a new character in his Caliban, but had also devised and adapted a new manner of language for that character. What they meant by it, without doubt, was, that Shakspeare gave his language a certain grotesque air of the savage and antique; which it certainly has. But Dr. Bentley took this, of a new language, literally; for, speaking of a phrase in Milton, which he supposed altogether absurd and unmeaning, he says, “Satan had not the privilege, as Caliban in Shakspeare, to use new phrase and diction unknown to all others”—and again—“to practise distances is still a Caliban style.” Note on Milton's Paradise Lost, l. iv. v. 945. But I know of no such Caliban style in Shakspeare, that hath new phrase and diction unknown to all others. Warburton. Whence these critics derived the notion of a new language appropriated to Caliban, I cannot find: they certainly mistook brutality of sentiment for uncouthness of words. Caliban had learned to speak of Prospero and his daughter; he had no names for the sun and moon before their arrival; and could not have invented a language of his own, without more understanding than Shakspeare has thought it proper to bestow upon him. His diction is indeed somewhat clouded by the gloominess of his temper, and the malignity of his purposes; but let any other being entertain the same thoughts, and he will find them easily issue in the same expressions. Johnson. “As wicked dew &lblank;” Wicked; having baneful qualities. So Spenser says, wicked weed; so, in opposition, we say herbs or medicines have virtues. Bacon mentions virtuous bezoar, and Dryden virtuous herbs. Johnson. So, in the Book of Haukyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “If a wycked fellon be swollen in such a manner that a man may hele it, the hauke shall not dye.” Under King Henry VI. the parliament petitioned against hops, as a wicked weed. See Fuller's Worthies: Essex. Steevens.

Note return to page 100 3&lblank; urchins &lblank;] i. e. hedgehogs. Urchins are enumerated by Reginald Scott among other terrific beings. So, in Chapman's May Day, 1611: “&lblank; to fold thyself up like an urchin.” Again, in Selimus Emperor of the Turks, 1584: “What, are the urchins crept out of their dens, “Under the conduct of this porcupine!” Urchins are perhaps here put for fairies. Milton in his Masque speaks of “urchin blasts,” and we still call any little dwarfish child, an urchin. The word occurs again in the next act. The echinus, or sea hedge-hog, is still denominated the urchin. Steevens. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, we have “urchins, ouphes, and fairies;” and a passage to which Mr. Steevens alludes, inclines me to think, that urchins here signifies beings of the fairy kind: “His spirits hear me, “And yet I needs must curse; but they'll nor pinch, “Fright me with urchin-shews, pitch me i' the mire,” &c. Malone. In support of Mr. Steevens's note, which does not appear satisfactory to Mr. Malone, take the following proofs from Hormanni Vulgaria, 4to. 1515, p. 109:—“Urchyns or Hedgehoggis, full of sharpe pryckillys, whan they know that they be hunted, make them rounde lyke a balle.” Again, “Porpyns have longer prykels than urchyns.” Douce.

Note return to page 101 4&lblank; for that vast of night that they may work,] The vast of night means the night which is naturally empty and deserted, without action; or when all things lying in sleep and silence, makes the world appear one great uninhabited waste. So, in Hamlet: “In the dead waste and middle of the night.” It has a meaning like that of nox vasta. Perhaps, however, it may be used with a signification somewhat different, in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Thou God of this great vast, rebuke the surges.” Vastum is likewise the ancient law term for waste, uncultivated land; and, with this meaning, vast is used by Chapman in his Shadow of Night, 1694: “&lblank; When unlightsome, vast, and indigest, “The formeless matter of this world did lye.” It should be remembered, that, in the pneumatology of former ages, these particulars were settled with the most minute exactness, and the different kinds of visionary beings had different allotments of time suitable to the variety or consequence of their employments. During these spaces, they were at liberty to act, but were always obliged to leave off at a certain hour, that they might not interfere in that portion of night which belonged to others. Among these, we may suppose urchins to have had a part subjected to their dominion. To this limitation of time Shakspeare alludes again in K. Lear:—“He begins at curfew, and walks till the second cock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 102 *First folio, cam'st.

Note return to page 103 5Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,] We might read— “Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st here first &lblank;.” Ritson.

Note return to page 104 †First folio, curst.

Note return to page 105 6O ho, O ho!] This savage exclamation was originally and constantly appropriated by the writers of our ancient Mysteries and Moralities, to the Devil; and has, in this instance, been transferred to his descendant Caliban. Steevens. So, in the verses attributed to Shakspeare: “O ho! quoth the devil, 'tis my John a Combe.” But Shakspeare was led to put this ejaculation in the mouth of his savage, by the following passage: “They [the savages] seemed all very civill and very merry, shewing tokens of much thankfulness for those things we gave them, which they expresse in their language by these words—oh, ho! often repeated.” Abstract of James Rosier's Account of Captain Weymouth's Voyage. Purchas. IV. 1661. Malone.

Note return to page 106 7Abhorred slave;] This speech, which the old copy gives to Miranda, is very judiciously bestowed by Theobald on Prospero. Johnson. Mr. Theobald found, or might have found, [as Warburton has observed] this speech transferred to Prospero in the alteration of this play by Dryden and Davenant. Malone.

Note return to page 107 8Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill!] So, in Harrington's translation of Orlando Furioso, 1591: “The cruel Esselyno, that was thought “To have been gotten by some wicked devil, “That never any goodness had been taught, “But sold his soule to sin and doing evil.” Malone.

Note return to page 108 9&lblank; when thou didst, not, savage, Know thine own meaning,] By this expression, however defective, the poet seems to have meant—“When thou didst utter sounds to which thou hadst no determinate meaning:” but the following expression of Mr. Addison, in his 389th Spectator, concerning the Hottentots, may prove the best comment on this passage: “&lblank; having no language among them but a confused gabble, which is neither well understood by themselves, or others.” Steevens.

Note return to page 109 1&lblank; But thy vile race,] The old copy has vild, but it is only the ancient mode of spelling vile. Race, in this place, seems to signify original disposition, inborn qualities. In this sense we still say—“The race of wine.” Thus, in Massinger's New Way to Pay Old Debts: “There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe “Of rich canary &lblank;. “Is it of the right race?” and Sir W. Temple has somewhere applied it to works of literature. Steevens. Race and raciness in wine, signifies a kind of tartness. Blackstone.

Note return to page 110 2&lblank; the red plague rid you,] I suppose from the redness of the body, universally inflamed. Johnson. The erysipelas was anciently called the red plague. Steevens. So again, in Coriolanus: “Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome!” The word rid, which has not been explained, means to destroy. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; If you ever chance to have a child, “Look, in his youth, to have him so cut off, “As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince.” Malone.

Note return to page 111 3Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar,] The word aches is evidently a dissyllable. This would not have required a note but for the ignorant clamour that was raised against Mr. Kemble, because he understood Shakspeare better than the newspaper criticks who censured him, and did not at once violate the measure, and act contrary to the uniform practice of the poet, his contemporaries, and those who preceded and followed him till about the middle of the last century, by pronouncing it as a monosyllable. In Timon of Athens the word twice occurs. See vol. xiii. p. 268: “Aches contract and starve your supple joints.” Again, p. 423: “Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches losses.” In Barret's Alvearie, 1580, the verb is spelt with a k, ake, and the substantive ache, to mark the distinction: and that the latter was pronounced in the same way as the letter h, is placed beyond a doubt by a passage in Much Ado About Nothing, vol. vii. p. 99, where a joke is founded upon it, which is illustrated by an epigram from old Heywood. Taylor, the water-poet, at a much later period, is equally facetious in his World runs on Wheels: “Every cart-horse doth know the letter G very understandingly: and H hath he in his bones.” Sandys, one of the most harmonious of our poets, has this line in his Paraphrase upon Job: “Stretch out thy hand, with aches pierce his bones.” And not to trouble the reader with more instances, which I could easily produce, Swift has the same pronunciation in his City Shower: “Old aches throb, your hollow tooth will rage.” which his modern editors have altered to “old aches will throb;” and I have even seen the line thus printed in some of the republications of Johnson's Dictionary, although he has quoted it for the express purpose of showing that aches was sometimes a dissyllable. Boswell.

Note return to page 112 3&lblank; my dam's god, Setebos,] A gentleman of great merit, Mr. Warner, has observed on the authority of John Barbot, that “the Patagons are reported to dread a great horned devil, called Setebos.”—It may be asked, however, how Shakspeare knew any thing of this, as Barbot was a voyager of the present century?— Perhaps he had read Eden's History of Travayle, 1577, who tells us, p. 434, that “the giantes, when they found themselves fettered, roared like bulls, and cried upon Setebos to help them.”— The metathesis in Caliban from Canibal is evident. Farmer. We learn from Magellan's voyage, that Setebos was the supreme god of the Patagons, and Cheleule was an inferior one. Tollet. Setebos is also mentioned in Hackluyt's Voyages, 1598. Malone.

Note return to page 113 4Re-enter Ariel invisible,] In the wardrobe of the Lord Admiral's men, (i. e. company of comedians,) 1598, was—“a robe for to goo invisebell.” See the MS. from Dulwich college, quoted by Mr. Malone, vol. iii. Steevens.

Note return to page 114 5Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,] As was anciently done at the beginning of some dances. So, in King Henry VIII. that prince says to Anna Bullen— “I were unmannerly to take you out, “And not to kiss you.” Steevens. “(The wild waves whist;)” i. e. the wild waves being silent. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vii. c. 7, f. 59: “So was the Titaness put down, and whist.” And Milton seems to have had our author in his eye. See stanza 5, of his Hymn on the Nativity: “The winds with wonder whist, “Smoothly the waters kiss'd.” So again, both Lord Surrey and Phaer, in their translations of the second book of Virgil: &lblank; Conticuere omnes. “They whisted all.” and Lyly, in his Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600: “But every thing is quiet, whist, and still.” Steevens.

Note return to page 115 6&lblank; the burden bear.] Old copy—“bear the burden.” Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 116 7Weeping again the king my father's wreck,] Thus the old copy; but in the books of Shakspeare's age again is sometimes printed instead of against, [i. e. opposite to,] which I am persuaded was our author's word. A&yogh;en, A. S. signifies both adversus and iterum. In Julius Cæsar we find against used in the first of these senses: “Against the capitol I met a lion &lblank;.” Lydgate in his Troie Boke, describing Priam's Palace, uses again in the sense of against: “And even agayne this kynges royal see, “In the partye that was thereto contrayre, “Yraysed was by many crafty stayre “In brede and length a full rich aultere.” The placing Ferdinand in such a situation that he could still gaze upon the wrecked vessel, is one of Shakspeare's touches of nature. Again, in its ordinary sense, is inadmissible; for this would import that Ferdinand's tears had ceased for a time; whereas he himself tells us, afterwards, that from the hour of his father's wreck they had never ceased to flow: “&lblank; Myself am Naples, “Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld “The king my father wreck'd.” However, as our author sometimes forgot to compare the different parts of his play, I have made no change. Malone. By the word—again, I suppose the Prince means only to describe the repetition of his sorrows. Besides, it appears from Miranda's description of the storm, that the ship had been swallowed by the waves, and, consequently, could no longer be an object of sight. Steevens. Miranda supposed that this was the case; but we learn from Ariel that it was not so. See p. 44: “Pro. &lblank; Of the king's ship, “The mariners, say how hast thou disposed, “And all the rest o' the fleet. “Ari. &lblank; Safely in harbour “Is the king's ship,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 117 8This musick crept by me upon the waters;] So, in Milton's Masque: “&lblank; a soft and solemn breathing sound “Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, “And stole upon the air.” Steevens.

Note return to page 118 9Full fathom five thy father lies; &c.] Ariel's lays, [which have been condemned by Gildon as trifling, and defended not very successfully by Dr. Warburton,] however seasonable and efficacious, must be allowed to be of no supernatural dignity or elegance; they express nothing great, nor reveal any thing above mortal discovery. The reason for which Ariel is introduced thus trifling is, that he and his companions are evidently of the fairy kind, an order of beings to which tradition has always ascribed a sort of diminutive agency, powerful but ludicrous, a humorous and frolick controlment of nature, well expressed by the songs of Ariel. Johnson. The songs in this play, Dr. Wilson, who reset and published two of them, tells us, in his Court Ayres, or Ballads, published at Oxford, 1660, that “Full fathom five,” and “Where the bee sucks,” had been first set by Robert Johnson, a composer contemporary with Shakspeare. Burney.

Note return to page 119 1Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change &lblank;] The meaning is—Every thing about him, that is liable to alteration, is changed. Steevens.

Note return to page 120 2But doth suffer a sea-change &lblank;] So, in Milton's Masque: “And underwent a quick immortal change.” Steevens.

Note return to page 121 3Burden, ding-dong,] It should be— “Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong bell.” Farmer.

Note return to page 122 4Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell. Burden, ding-dong.] So, in The Golden Garland of Princely Delight, &c. 13th edition, 1690: “Corydon's doleful knell to the tune of Ding, dong.”   “I must go seek a new love,   “Yet will I ring her knell,     “Ding, dong.” The same burthen to a song occurs in The Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 123 5That the earth owes:] To owe, in this place, as well as many others, signifies to own. So, in Othello: “&lblank; that sweet sleep “Which thou ow'dst yesterday.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; thou dost here usurp “The name thou ow'st not.” To use the word in this sense is not peculiar to Shakspeare. I meet with it in Beaumont and Fletcher's Beggar's Bush: “If now the beard be such, what is the prince “That owes the beard?” Steevens.

Note return to page 124 6The fringed curtains, &c.] The same expression occurs in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; her eyelids “Begin to part their fringes of bright gold.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. i.: “Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open—or cast my lids, as curtains, over the image of beauty her presence had painted in them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 125 7It goes on,] The old copy reads—“It goes on, I see,” &c. But as the words I see are useless, and an incumbrance to the metre, I have omitted them. Steevens.

Note return to page 126 8Most sure, &c.] It seems, that Shakspeare, in The Tempest, hath been suspected of translating some expressions of Virgil; witness the O Dea certe. I presume we are here directed to the passage, where Ferdinand says of Miranda, after hearing the songs of Ariel: “Most sure, the goddess “On whom these airs attend!—” And so very small Latin is sufficient for this formidable translation, that, if it be thought any honour to our poet, I am loth to deprive him of it; but his honour is not built on such a sandy foundation. Let us turn to a real translator, and examine whether the idea might not be fully comprehended by an English reader, supposing it necessarily borrowed from Virgil. Hexameters in our language are almost forgotten; we will quote therefore this time from Stanyhurst: “O to thee, fayre virgin, what terme may rightly be fitted? “Thy tongue, thy visage no mortal frayltie resembleth. “&lblank; No doubt, a goddesse!” Edit. 1583. Farmer.

Note return to page 127 9&lblank; certainly a maid.] Nothing could be more prettily imagined to illustrate the singularity of her character, than this pleasant mistake. She had been bred up in the rough and plain-dealing documents of moral philosophy, which teaches us the knowledge of ourselves; and was an utter stranger to the flattery invented by vicious and designing men to corrupt the other sex. So that it could not enter into her imagination, that complaisance, and a desire of appearing amiable, qualities of humanity which she had been instructed, in her moral lessons, to cultivate, could ever degenerate into such excess, as that any one should be willing to have his fellow-creature believe that he thought her a goddess, or an immortal. Warburton. Dr. Warburton has here found a beauty which I think the author never intended. Ferdinand asks her not whether she was a created being, a question which, if he meant it, he has ill expressed, but whether she was unmarried; for after the dialogue which Prospero's interruption produces, he goes on pursuing his former question: “O if a virgin, “I'll make you queen of Naples.” Johnson. A passage in Lyly's Galathea seems to countenance the present text: “The question among men is common, are you a maide?” —yet I cannot but think, that Dr. Warburton reads very rightly: “If you be made, or no.” When we meet with a harsh expression in Shakspeare, we are usually to look for a play upon words. Fletcher closely imitates The Tempest in his Sea Voyage: and he introduces Albert in the same manner to the ladies of his Desert Island: “Be not offended, goddesses, that I fall “Thus prostrate,” &c. Shakspeare himself had certainly read, and had probably now in his mind, a passage in the third book of The Fairy Queen, between Timias and Belphœbe: “Angel or goddess! do I call thee right? “There-at she blushing, said, ah! gentle squire, “Nor goddess I, nor angel, but the maid “And daughter of a woody nymph,” &c. Farmer. So, Milton, Comus, 265: “&lblank; Hail, foreign wonder! “Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, “Unless the Goddess,” &c. Milton's imitation explains Shakspeare. Maid is certainly a created being, a woman in opposition to goddess. Miranda immediately destroys this first sense by a quibble. In the mean time, I have no objection to read made, i. e. created. The force of the sentiment is the same. Comus is universally allowed to have taken some of its tints from The Tempest. T. Warton. The first copy reads—if you be maid, or no. Made was not suggested by Dr. Warburton, being an emendation introduced by the editor of the fourth folio. It was, I am persuaded, the author's word: There being no article prefixed adds strength to this supposition. Nothing is more common in his plays than a word being used in reply, in a sense different from that in which it was employed by the first speaker. Ferdinand had the moment before called Miranda a goddess; and the words immediately subjoined, —“Vouchsafe my prayer”—show that he looked up to her as a person of a superior order, and sought her protection and instruction for his conduct, not her love. At this period, therefore, he must have felt too much awe to have flattered himself with the hope of possessing a being that appeared to him celestial; though afterwards, emboldened by what Miranda says, he exclaims, “O, if a virgin,” &c. words that appear inconsistent with the supposition that he had already asked her whether she was one or not. She had indeed told him, she was; but in his astonishment at hearing her speak his own language, he may well be supposed to have forgotten what she said; which, if he had himself made the inquiry, would not be very reasonable to suppose. It appears from the alteration of this play by Dryden and Sir W. D'Avenant, that they considered the present passage in this light: “&lblank; Fair excellence, “If, as your form declares, you are divine, “Be pleas'd to instruct me, how you will be worship'd; “So bright a beauty cannot sure belong “To human kind.” In a subsequent scene we have again the same inquiry: “Alon. Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, “And brought us thus together?” “Fer. Sir, she's mortal.” Our author might have remembered Lodge's description of Fawnia, the Perdita of his Winter's Tale: “Yet he scarce knew her, for she had attired herself in rich apparel, which so increased her beauty, that she resembled rather an angel than a creature.” Dorastus and Fawnia, 1592. I have said “that nothing is more common in these plays than a word being used in reply in a sense different from that in which it was employed by the first speaker.” Here follow my proofs. In As You Like It, Orlando, being asked by his brother. “Now sir, what make you here?” [i. e. What do you do here?] replies, “Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing.” So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “&lblank; Henceforward will I bear “Upon my target three fair shining suns. “Rich. Nay, bear three daughters.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste great. “Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer.” Again, in King Richard III.: “With this, my lord, myself hath nought to do. “Glou. Naught to do with mistress Shore?” &c. Malone. The question, (I use the words of Mr. M. Mason,) is “whether our readers will adopt a natural and simple expression which requires no comment, or one which the ingenuity of many commentators has but imperfectly supported. Steevens.

Note return to page 128 1And his brave son, being twain.] This is a slight forgetfulness. Nobody was lost in the wreck, yet we find no such character as the son of the duke of Milan. Theobald.

Note return to page 129 2&lblank; control thee,] Confute thee, unanswerably contradict thee. Johnson.

Note return to page 130 3I fear, you have done yourself some wrong:] i. e. I fear that in asserting yourself to be King of Naples, you have uttered a falsehood which is below your character, and, consequently, injurious to your honour. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor— “This is not well, master Ford, this wrongs you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 131 4He's gentle, and not fearful.] Fearful signifies both terrible and timorous. In this place it may mean timorous. She tells her father, that as he is gentle, rough usage is unnecessary; and as he is brave, it may be dangerous. Fearful, however, may signify formidable, as in K. Henry IV.: “A mighty and a fearful head they are:” and then the meaning of the passage is obvious. Steevens. “He's gentle and not fearful.” i. e. terrible; producing fear. In our author's age to fear signified to terrify, (see Minsheu in verb.) and fearful was much more frequently used in the sense of formidable than that of timorous. Malone. “Do not rashly determine to treat him with severity, he is mild and harmless, and not in the least terrible or dangerous.” Ritson. A late novelist has the following remark on this passage:— “How have your commentators been puzzled by the following expression in The Tempest—“He's gentle, and not fearful;” as if it was a paralogism to say that being gentle, he must of course be courageous; but the truth is, one of the original meanings, if not the sole meaning, of that word was, noble, high minded: and to this day a Scotch woman in the situation of the young lady in The Tempest, would express herself nearly in the same terms. —Don't provoke him: for being gentle, that is, high spirited, he won't tamely bear an insult. Spenser, in the very first stanza of his Fairy Queen, says: “A gentle knight was pricking on the plain,” which knight, far from being tame and fearful, was so stout that “Nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.”   Smollett's Humphrey Clinker, vol. ii. p. 182. Reed.

Note return to page 132 5My foot my tutor!] So, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1587, p. 163: “What honest heart would not conceive disdayne, “To see the foote surmount above the head.” Henderson. We have the same thought in Lyly's Euphues, 1580: “Then how vain is it, that the foot should neglect his office, to correct the face.” Malone. Again, in K. Lear, Act IV. Sc. II. one of the quartos reads— “My foot usurps my head.” Thus also Pope, Essay on Man, i. 260: “What, if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread, “Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head?” Steevens.

Note return to page 133 6&lblank; come from thy ward;] Desist from any hope of awing me by that posture of defence. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part I. Falstaff says:—“Thou know'st my old ward;—here I lay, and thus I bore my point.” Steevens.

Note return to page 134 7Thy nerves are in their infancy again,] Perhaps Milton had this passage in his mind, when he wrote the following line in his Masque at Ludlow Castle: “Thy nerves are all bound up in alabaster.” Steevens.

Note return to page 135 8My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.] Alluding to a common sensation in dreams; when we struggle, but with a total impuissance in our endeavours, to run, strike, &c. Warburton.

Note return to page 136 9&lblank; are but light to me,] This passage, as it stands at present, with all allowance for poetical licence, cannot be reconciled to grammar. I suspect that our author wrote—“were but light to me,” in the sense of—would be.—In the preceding line the old copy reads—nor this man's threats. The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 137 1Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid:] This thought seems borrowed from the Knight's Tale of Chaucer, v. 1230: “For elles had I dwelt with Theseus “Yfetered in his prison evermo. “Than had I ben in blisse, and not in wo. “Only the sight of hire, whom that I serve, “Though that I never hire grace may deserve, “Wold have sufficed right ynough for me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 138 2&lblank; Our hint of woe &lblank;] Hint is that which recalls to the memory. The cause that fills our minds with grief is common. Dr. Warburton reads—stint of woe.” Johnson. Hint seems to mean circumstance. “A danger from which they had escaped (says Mr. M. Mason) might properly be called a hint of woe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 139 3The masters of some merchant, &c.] Thus the old copy. If the passage be not corrupt (as I suspect it is) we must suppose that by masters our author means the owners of a merchant's ship, or the officers to whom the navigation of it had been trusted. I suppose, however, that our author wrote— “The mistress of some merchant,” &c. Mistress was anciently spelt—maistresse or maistres. Hence, perhaps, arose the present typographical error. See Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Sc. I. Steevens. Merchant was used for a merchantman. So, Dryden, in his Parallel of Poetry and Painting, “Thus as convoy-ships either accompany or should accompany their merchants.” Dryden's Prose Works, 1801, vol. iii. p. 306. Malone.

Note return to page 140 4Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle,] The words—“of woe,” appear to me as an idle interpolation. Three lines before we have “our hint of woe—.” Steevens.

Note return to page 141 5The visitor &lblank;] Why Dr. Warburton should change visitor to 'viser, for adviser, I cannot discover. Gonzalo gives not only advice but comfort, and is therefore properly called the visitor, like others who visit the sick or distressed to give them consolation. In some of the Protestant churches there is a kind of officers termed consolators for the sick. Johnson.

Note return to page 142 6Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed;] The same quibble occurs in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1637: “And his reward be thirteen hundred dollars, “For he hath driven dolour from our heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 143 7&lblank; you've pay'd.] Old copy—you'r paid. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. To pay sometimes signified—to beat, but I have never met with it in a metaphorical sense; otherwise I should have thought the reading of the folio right: you are beaten; you have lost. Malone. This passage scarcely deserves explanation; but the meaning is this: Antonio lays a wager with Sebastian, that Adrian would crow before Gonzalo, and the wager was a laughter. Adrian speaks first, so Antonio is the winner. Sebastian laughs at what Adrian had said, and Antonio immediately acknowledges that by his laughing he has paid the bet. The old copy reads—you'r paid, which will answer as well, if those words be given to Sebastian instead of Antonio. M. Mason.

Note return to page 144 8&lblank; and delicate temperance.] Temperance here means temperature. Steevens.

Note return to page 145 9Temperance was a delicate wench.] In the puritanical times it was usual to christen children from the titles of religious and moral virtues. So Taylor, the water-poet, in his description of a strumpet: “Though bad they be, they will not bate an ace, “To be call'd Prudence, Temperance, Faith, or Grace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 146 1How lush, &c.] Lush, i. e. of a dark full colour, the opposite to pale and faint. Sir T. Hanmer. The words, how green? which immediately follow, might have intimated to Sir T. Hanmer, that lush here signifies rank, and not a dark full colour. In Arthur Golding's translation of Julius Solinus, printed 1587, a passage occurs, in which the word is explained.—“Shrubbes lushe and almost like a grystle.” So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Quite over-canopied with lushious woodbine.” Henley. The word lush has not yet been rightly interpreted. It appears from the following passage in Golding's translation of Ovid, 1587, to have signified juicy, succulent: “What? seest thou not, how that the year, as representing plaine “The age of man, departes himself in quarters foure: first, baine [i. e. limber, flexible.] “And tender in the spring it is, even like a sucking babe, “Then greene and void of strength, and lush and foggy is the blade; “And cheers the husbandman with hope.” Ovid's lines (Met. xv.) are these: Quid? non in species succedere quattuor annum Aspicis, ætatis peragentem imitamina nostræ? Nam tener et lactens, puerique simillimus, ævo, Vere novo est. Tunc herba recens, et roboris expers, Turget, et insolida est, et spe delectat agrestem. Spenser, in his Shepheard's Calender, (Feb.) applies the epithet lusty to green: “With leaves engrain'd in lustie green.” Malone.

Note return to page 147 2With an eye of green in't.] An eye is a small shade of colour: “Red, with an eye of blue, makes a purple.” Boyle. Again, in Fuller's Church History, p. 237, xvii Cent. Book xi.: “&lblank; some cole-black (all eye of purple being put out therein) &lblank;.” Again, in Sandys's Travels, lib. i.: “&lblank; cloth of silver tissued with an eye of green &lblank;.” Steevens. Eye was anciently used for a small portion of any thing. So in A True Declaration of the Estate of the Colonie in Virginia, 1600, p. 44: “Not an eye of sturgeon as yet appeared in the river.” Malone.

Note return to page 148 3&lblank; Claribel &lblank;] Shakspeare might have found this name in the bl. l. History of George Lord Fauconbridge, a pamphlet that he probably read when he was writing King John. Claribel is there the concubine of King Richard I. and the mother of Lord Falconbridge. Malone.

Note return to page 149 4&lblank; Widow Dido!] The name of a widow brings to their minds their own shipwreck, which they consider as having made many widows in Naples. Johnson.

Note return to page 150 5&lblank; the miraculous harp.] Alluding to the wonders of Amphion's music. Steevens.

Note return to page 151 6The stomach of my sense:] By sense, I believe, is meant both reason and natural affection. So, in Measure for Measure: “Against all sense do you impórtune her.” Mr. M. Mason, however, supposes “sense, in this place, means feeling.” Steevens.

Note return to page 152 7Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow,] Weigh'd means deliberated. It is used in nearly the same sense in Love's Labour's Lost, and in Hamlet. The old copy reads—should bow. Should was probably an abbreviation of she would, the mark of elision being inadvertently omitted [sh'ould]. Thus he has is frequently exhibited in the first folio—h'as. Mr. Pope corrected the passage thus: “at which end the beam should bow.” But omission of any word in the old copy, without substituting another in its place, is seldom safe, except in those instances where the repeated word appears to have been caught by the compositor's eye glancing on the line above, or below, or where a word is printed twice in the same line. Malone.

Note return to page 153 8Than we bring men to comfort them:] It does not clearly appear whether the king and these lords thought the ship lost. This passage seems to imply, that they were themselves confident of returning, but imagined part of the fleet destroyed. Why, indeed, should Sebastian plot against his brother in the following scene, unless he knew how to find the kingdom which he was to inherit? Johnson.

Note return to page 154 9&lblank; for no kind of traffick Would I admit; no name of magistrate, &c.] Our author has here closely followed a passage in Montaigne's Essaies, translated by John Florio, fol. 1603: “It is a nation (would I answer Plato) that hath no kind of trafficke, no knowledge of letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politic superioritie; no use of service, of riches, or of povertie, no contracts, no successions, no partitions, no occupation, but idle; no respect of kindred but common; no apparel but natural; no use of wine, corne, or metal The very words that import lying, falsehood, treason, dissimulations, covetousness, envie, detraction and pardon, were never heard amongst them.”—This passage was pointed out by Mr. Capell, who knew so little of his author as to suppose that Shakspeare had the original French before him, though he has almost literally followed Florio's translation. Montaigne is here speaking of a newly discovered country, which he calls “Antartick France.” In the page preceding that already quoted, are these words: “The other testimonie of antiquitie to which some will refer the discoverie is in Aristotle (if at least that little book of unheard-of wonders be his) where he reporteth that certain Carthaginians having sailed athwart the Atlanticke sea, without the strait of Gibraltar, discovered a great fertil island, all replenished with goodly woods, and deepe rivers, farre distant from any land.” Whoever shall take the trouble to turn to the old translation here quoted, will, I think, be of opinion, that in whatsoever novel our author might have found the fable of The Tempest, he was led by the perusal of this book to make the scene of it an unfrequented island. The title of the chapter, which is—“Of the Caniballes,”—evidently furnished him with the name of one of his characters. In his time almost every proper name was twisted into an anagram, Thus,—“I moyl in law,” was the anagram of the laborious William Noy, Attorney General to Charles I. By inverting this process, and transposing the letters of the word Canibal, Shakspeare (as Dr. Farmer long since observed) formed the name of Caliban. Malone.

Note return to page 155 1And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:] The defective metre of the second of these lines affords a ground for believing that some word was omitted at the press. Many of the defects however in our author's metre have arisen from the words of one line being transferred to another. In the present instance the preceding line is redundant. Perhaps the words here, as in many other passages, have been shuffled out of their places. We might read— “And use of service, none; succession, “Contract, bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.”] —succession being often used by Shakspeare as a quadrisyllable. It must however be owned, that in the passage in Montaigne's Essays the words contract and succession are arranged in the same manner as in the first folio. Malone. “Letters should not be known; no use of service, “Of riches or of poverty; no contracts, “Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:” The words already quoted from Florio's Translation (as Dr. Farmer observes to me) instruct us to regulate our author's metre as it is exhibited in my text. Probably Shakspeare first wrote (in the room of partition, which did not suit the structure of his verse) bourn; but recollecting that one of its significations was a rivulet, and that his island would have fared ill without fresh water, he changed bourn to bound of land, a phrase that could not be misunderstood. At the same time he might have forgot to strike out bourn, his original word, which is now rejected; for if not used for a brook, it would have exactly the same meaning as “bound of land.” There is therefore no need of the dissyllabical assistance recommended in the preceeding note. Steevens.

Note return to page 156 2The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.] All this dialogue is a fine satire on the Utopian treatises of government, and the impracticable inconsistent schemes therein recommended. Warburton.

Note return to page 157 3&lblank; any engine, &lblank;] An engine is the rack. So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature “From the fix'd place.” It may, however, be used here in its common signification of instrument of war, or military machine. Steevens.

Note return to page 158 4&lblank; all foizon,] Foison, or foizon, signifies plenty, ubertas; not moisture, or juice of grass, as Mr. Pope says. Edwards. So, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xiii. ch. 78: “Union, in breese, is foysonous, and discorde works decay.” Mr. Pope, however, is not entirely mistaken, as foison, or fizon, sometimes bears the meaning which he has affixed to it. See Ray's Collection of South and East country words. Steevens. “&lblank; nature should bring forth, “Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance, “To feed my innocent people.” “And if notwithstanding, in divers fruits of those countries that were never tilled, we shall find that in respect of our's they are most excellent, and as delicate unto our taste, there is no reason Art should gain the point of our great and puissant mother, Nature.” Montaigne's Essaies, ubi supra. Malone.

Note return to page 159 5I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.] So Montaigne, ubi supra: “Me seemeth that what in those [newly discovered] nations we see by experience, doth not only exceed all the pictures wherewith licentious poesie hath proudly imbellished the golden age, and all her quaint inventions to fain a happy condition of man, but also the conception and desire of philosophy.” Malone.

Note return to page 160 6&lblank; of brave mettle;] The old copy has—metal. The two words are frequently confounded in the first folio. The epithet, brave, shows clearly, that the word now placed in the text was intended by our author. Malone.

Note return to page 161 7Enter Ariel, &c. playing solemn music.] This stage-direction does not mean to tell us that Ariel himself was the fidicen; but that solemn music attended his appearance, was an accompaniment to his entry. Steevens.

Note return to page 162 8I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebles thee o'er.] This passage is represented to me as an obscure one. The meaning of it seems to be—‘You must put on more than your usual seriousness, if you are disposed to pay a proper attention to my proposal; which attention if you bestow, it will in the end make you thrice what you are.’ Sebastian is already brother to the throne; but, being made a king by Antonio's contrivance, would be (according to our author's idea of greatness) thrice the man he was before. In this sense he would be trebled o'er. So, in Pericles, 1609: “&lblank; the master calls, “And trebles the confusion.” Again, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, 1634: “&lblank; thirds his own worth.” Steevens. Again, in the Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; Yet, for you, “I would be trebled twenty times myself.” Malone

Note return to page 163 9If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it!] A judicious critic in The Edinburgh Magazine for Nov. 1786, offers the following illustration of this obscure passage. “Sebastian introduces the simile of water. It is taken up by Antonio, who says he will teach his stagnant water to flow. ‘—It has already learned to ebb,’ says Sebastian. To which Antonio replies, ‘O if you but knew how much even that metaphor, which you use in jest, encourages to the design which I hint at; how in stripping the words of their common meaning, and using them figuratively, you adapt them to your own situation!’” Steevens.

Note return to page 164 1&lblank; this lord of weak remembrance,] This lord, who, being now in his dotage, has outlived his faculty of remembering; and who, once laid in the ground, shall be as little remembered himself, as he can now remember other things. Johnson.

Note return to page 165 2&lblank; hath here almost persuaded (For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alive; 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd, As he that sleeps here, swims.] Of this entangled sentence I can draw no sense from the present reading, and therefore imagine that the author gave it thus: “For he, a spirit of persuasion, only “Professes to persuade the king, his son's alive;” Of which the meaning may be either, that “he alone, who is a spirit of persuasion, professes to persuade the king;” or that, “He only professes to persuade,” that is, ‘without being so persuaded himself, he makes a show of persuading the king.” Johnson. The meaning may be—“He is a mere rhetorician, one who professes the art of persuasion, and nothing else; i. e. he professes to persuade another to believe that of which he himself is not convinced; he is content to be plausible, and has no further aim.” (So, as Mr. Malone observes,) in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; why he'll answer nobody, he professes not answering.” Steevens. The obscurity of this passage arises from a misconception of the word he's, which is not an abbreviation of he is, but of he has; and partly from the omission of the pronoun who, before the word professes, by a common poetical ellipsis. Supply that deficiency, and the sentence will run thus:— “Although this lord of weak remembrance “&lblank; hath here almost persuaded “(For he has a spirit of persuasion, who, only “Professes to persuade,) the king, his son's alive;”— And the meaning is clearly this.—This old lord, though a mere dotard, has almost persuaded the king that his son is alive; for he is so willing to believe it, that any man who undertakes to persuade him of it, has the powers of persuasion, and succeeds in the attempt. We find a similar expression in The First Part of Henry IV. When Poins undertakes to engage the Prince to make one of the party to Gads-hill, Falstaff says: “Well! may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting! that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed!” M. Mason. The light Mr. M. Mason's conjecture has thrown on this passage, I think, enables me to discover and remedy the defect in it. I cannot help regarding the words—“professes to persuade”— as a mere gloss or paraphrase on “&lblank; he has a spirit of persuasion.” This explanatory sentence, being written in the margin of an actor's part, or playhouse copy, was afterwards injudiciously incorporated with our author's text. Read the passage without these words, “&lblank; hath here almost persuaded “(For he's a spirit of persuasion only,) “The king, his son's alive; 'tis as impossible,” &c. and nothing is wanting to its sense or metre. On the contrary, the insertion of the words I have excluded, by lengthening the parenthesis, obscures the meaning of the speaker, and, at the same time, produces redundancy of measure. Irregularity of metre ought always to excite suspicions of omission or interpolation. Where somewhat has been omitted, through chance or design, a line is occasionally formed by the junction of hemistichs previously unfitted to each other. Such a line will naturally exceed the established proportion of feet; and when marginal observations are crept into the text, they will have just such aukward effects as I conceive to have been produced by one of them in the present instance. “Perhaps (says that excellent scholar and perspicacious critic Mr. Porson, in his 6th Letter to Archdeacon Travis) you think it an affected and absurd idea that a marginal note can ever creep into the text: yet I hope you are not so ignorant as not to know that this has actually happened, not merely in hundreds or thousands, but in millions of places,” &c. &c.— “From this known propensity of transcribers to turn every thing into the text which they found written in the margin of their MSS. or between the lines, so many interpolations have proceeded, that at present the surest canon of criticism is, Præferatur lectio brevior.” P. 149, 150. Though I once expressed a different opinion, I am now well convinced that the metre of Shakspeare's plays had originally no other irregularity than was occasioned by an accidental use of hemistichs. When we find the smoothest series of lines among our earliest dramatic writers (who could fairly boast of no other requisites for poetry) are we to expect less polished versification from Shakspeare? Steevens.

Note return to page 166 3&lblank; a wink beyond,] That this is the utmost extent of the prospect of ambition, the point where the eye can pass no farther, and where objects lose their distinctness, so that what is there discovered is faint, obscure, and doubtful. Johnson. Perhaps this is a phrase similar to what has occurred before— “an eye of green.” Boswell.

Note return to page 167 4&lblank; beyond man's life;] i. e. at a greater distance than the life of man is long enough to reach. Steevens.

Note return to page 168 5&lblank; she that from Naples Can have no note, &c.] Note (as Mr. Malone observes) is notice, or information. Shakspeare's great ignorance of geography is not more conspicuous in any instance than in this, where he supposes Tunis and Naples to have been at such an immeasurable distance from each other. He may, however, be countenanced by Apollonius Rhodius, who says, that both the Rhone and Po meet in one, and discharge themselves into the gulph of Venice; and by Æschylus, who has placed the river Eridanus in Spain. Steevens.

Note return to page 169 6&lblank; she, from whom &lblank;] i. e. in coming from whom. The old copy has—“she that from,” &c. which cannot be right. The compositor's eye probably glanced on a preceding line, “she that from Naples—.” The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 170 7&lblank; though some cast again;] Cast is here used in the same sense as in Macbeth, Act II. Sc. III.: “&lblank; though he took my legs from me, I made a shift to cast him.” Steevens. It does not appear that a single person was lost; but as the passengers in the ship were dispersed by Ariel in different parts of the island, Antonio supposes that those who were not of his party were lost. Malone.

Note return to page 171 8And, by that, destiny &lblank;] It is a common plea of wickedness to call temptation destiny. Johnson. The late Dr. Musgrave very reasonably proposed to substitute— destin'd for destiny. As the construction of the passage is made easier by this slight change, I have adopted it. Steevens.

Note return to page 172 9In yours and my discharge.] i. e. depends on what you and I are to perform. Steevens.

Note return to page 173 1&lblank; Keep in Tunis,] There is in this passage a propriety lost, which a slight alteration will restore: “&lblank; Sleep in Tunis, “And let Sebastian wake!” Johnson. The old reading is sufficiently explicable. “Claribel (says he), keep where thou art, and allow Sebastian time to awaken those senses by the help of which he may perceive the advantage which now presents itself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 2A chough &lblank;] Is a bird of the jack-daw kind. So, in Macbeth, Act III. Sc. IV.: “By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 175 3And melt, ere they molest!] I had rather read— “Would melt, ere they molest.” i. e. ‘Twenty consciences, such as stand between me and my hopes, though they were congealed, would melt before they could molest me, or prevent the execution of my purposes. Johnson. Let twenty consciences be first congealed and then dissolved, ere they molest me, or prevent me from executing my purposes. Malone. If the interpretation of Johnson and Malone is just, and is certainly as intelligible as or; but I can see no reasonable meaning in this interpretation. It amounts to nothing more as thus interpreted, than ‘My conscience must melt and become softer than it is before it molests me;’ which is an insipidity unworthy of the Poet. I would read “Candy'd be they, or melt;” and the expression then has spirit and propriety. ‘Had I twenty consciences,’ says Antonio, ‘they might be hot or cold for me; they should not give me the smallest trouble.’—Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 176 4No better than the earth he lies upon,] So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; at Pompey's basis lies along, “No worthier than the dust.” Steevens.

Note return to page 177 5If he were that which now he's like; whom I, With this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed, &c.] The old copy reads— “If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; “Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it, “Can lay to bed,” &c. The words—“that's dead” (as Dr. Farmer observes to me) are evidently a gloss, or marginal note, which had found its way into the text. Such a supplement is useless to the speaker's meaning, and one of the verses becomes redundant by its insertion. Steevens.

Note return to page 178 6&lblank; for aye &lblank;] i. e. for ever. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; I am come “To bid my king and master aye good night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 179 7This ancient morsel,] For morsel, Dr. Warburton reads— ancient moral, very elegantly and judiciously; yet I know not whether the author might not write morsel, as we say a piece of a man. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure: “How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress?” Steevens.

Note return to page 180 8&lblank; take suggestion,] i. e. Receive any hint of villainy. Johnson. So, in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. III.: “If good, why do I yield to that suggestion “Whose horrid image,” &c. Steevens. “They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;] That is, will adopt, and bear witness to, any tale you shall invent; you may suborn them as evidences to clear you from all suspicion of having murthered the king. A similar signification occurs in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Love bad me swear, and love bids me forswear: “O sweet suggesting love, if thou hast sinn'd, “Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.” Henley.

Note return to page 181 9&lblank; to keep them living.] By them, as the text now stands, Gonsalo and Alonso must be understood. Dr. Johnson objects very justly to this passage. “As it stands,” says he, “at present, the sense is this. He sees your danger, and will therefore save them.” He therefore would read—“That these his friends are in.” The confusion has, I think, arisen from the omission of a single letter, Our author, I believe, wrote— “&lblank; and sends me forth, “For else his projects dies, to keep them living.” i. e. he has sent me forth, to keep his projects alive, which else would be destroyed by the murder of his friend Gonzalo.—The opposition between the life and death of a project appears to me much in Shakspeare's manner. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?”—The plural noun joined to a verb in the singular number, is to be met with in almost every page of the first folio. So, to confine myself to the play before us, edit. 1623: “My old bones akes.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; At this hour “Lies at my mercy all my enemies.” Again, ibid.: “His tears runs down his beard &lblank;.” Again: “What cares these roarers for the name of king.” It was the common language of the time; and ought to be corrected, as indeed it generally has been in the modern editions of our author, by changing the number of the verb. Thus, in the present instance we should read—“For else his projects die, &c.” Malone. I have received Dr. Johnson's amendment. Ariel, finding that Prospero was equally solicitous for the preservation of Alonso and Gonzalo, very naturally styles them both his friends, without adverting to the guilt of the former. Toward the success of Prospero's design, their lives were alike necessary. Mr. Henley says that “By them are meant Sebastian and Antonio. The project of Prospero, which depended upon Ariel's keeping them alive, may be seen, Act III.” The song of Ariel, however, sufficiently points out which were the immediate objects of his protection. He cannot be supposed to have any reference to what happens in the last scene of the next Act. Steevens.

Note return to page 182 1&lblank; drawn?] Having your swords drawn. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?” Johnson.

Note return to page 183 2That's verity: 'Best stand upon our guard;] The old copy reads— “That's verily: 'Tis best we stand upon our guard.” Mr. Pope very properly changed verily to verity: and as the verse would be too long by a foot, if the words 'tis and we were retained, I have discarded them in favour of an elliptical phrase which occurs in our ancient comedies, as well as in our author's Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. III.: “'Best draw my sword;” i. e. it were best to draw it. Steevens.

Note return to page 184 3&lblank; that moe, &c.] i. e. make mouths. So, in the old version of the Psalms: “&lblank; making moes at me.” Again, in the Mystery of Candlemas-Day, 1512: “And make them to lye and mowe like an ape.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, book iii.: “Ape great thing gave, though he did mowing stand, “The instrument of instruments, the hand.” Steevens. So, in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Penniless, 1593: “&lblank; found nobody at home but an ape, that sate in the porch and made mops and mows at him.” Malone.

Note return to page 185 4Their pricks &lblank;] i. e. prickles. Steevens.

Note return to page 186 5&lblank; wound with adders,] Enwrapped by adders wound or twisted about me. Johnson.

Note return to page 187 6&lblank; looks like a foul bumbard &lblank;] This term “&lblank; that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bumbard of sack &lblank;” And again, in Henry VIII.: “And here you lie baiting of bombards, when ye should do service.” By these several passages, 'tis plain the word meant a large vessel for holding drink, as well as the piece of ordnance so called. Theobald. Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Augurs, confirms the conjecture of Theobald: “The poor cattle yonder are passing away the time with a cheat loaf, and a bumbard of broken beer.” So, again in The Martyr'd Soldier, by Shirley, 1638: “His boots as wide as the black-jacks, “Or bumbards, toss'd by the king's guards.” And it appears from a passage in Ben Jonson's Masque of Love Restor'd that a bombard-man was one who carried about provisions. “I am to deliver into the buttery so many firkins of aurum potabile as it delivers out bombards of bouge,” &c. Again, in Decker's Match me in London, 1631: “You are ascended up to what you are, from the black-jack to the bumbard distillation.” Steevens. Cole renders bombard, cantharus, a tankard. Mr. Upton would read—a full bumbard. See a note on—“I thank the Gods, I am foul;” As You Like It, vol. vi. p. 445, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 188 7&lblank; this fish painted,] To exhibit fishes, either real or imaginary, was very common about the time of our author. So, in Jasper Maine's comedy of the City Match: “Enter Bright, &c. hanging out the picture of a strange fish. “This is the fifth fish now “That he hath shewn thus.” It appears from the books at Stationers' Hall, that in 1601 was published, “A strange reporte of a monstrous fish, that appeared in the form of a woman from her waist upward, seene in the sea.” So likewise, in Churchyard's Prayse and Reporte of Maister Martyne Frobisher's Voyage to Meta Incognita, &c. bl. l. 12mo. 1578: “And marchyng backe, they found a straunge Fish dead, that had been caste from the sea on the shore, who had a boane in his head like an Unicorne, which they brought awaye and presented to our Prince, when thei came home.” Steevens. So, in the office book of Sir Henry Herbert, MS. we find: “A license to James Seale to shew a strange fish for half a yeare, the 3d of September, 1632.” Malone.

Note return to page 189 8&lblank; make a man;] That is, make a man's fortune. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; we are all made men.” Johnson. Again, in Ram-alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “&lblank; She's a wench “Was born to make us all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 190 9&lblank; a dead Indian.] In a subsequent speech of Stephano, we have: “&lblank; savages and men of Inde;” in Love's Labour's Lost, “&lblank; a rude and savage man of Inde;” and in K. Henry VIII. the porter asks the mob, if they “think some strange Indian, &c. is come to court.” Perhaps all these passages allude to the Indians brought home by Sir Martin Frobisher. Queen Elizabeth's original instructions to him (MS. now before me) “concerning his voyage to Cathaia,” &c. contain the following article: “You shall not bring aboue iii or iiii persons of that countrey, the which shall be of diuers ages, and shall be taken in such sort as you may best avoyde offence of that people.” In the year 1577, “A description of the portrayture and shape of those strange kinde of people which the wurthie Mr. Martin Fourbosier brought into England in Ao. 1576,” was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company. By Frobisher's First Voyage for the Discoverie of Cataya, bl. l. 4to. 1278, the fate of the first savage taken by him is ascertained. —“Whereupon when he founde himself in captiuitie, for very choler and disdain he bit his tong in twaine within his mouth: notwithstanding, he died not thereof, but liued untill he came in Englande, and then he died of colde which he had taken at sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 191 1&lblank; let loose my opinion, &c.] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “&lblank; Now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.” Steevens.

Note return to page 192 2&lblank; his gaberdine;] A gaberdine is properly the coarse frock or outward garment of a peasant. Spanish, Gaberdina. So, in Look About You, 1600: “I'll conjure his gaberdine.” The gaberdine is still worn by the peasants in Sussex. Steevens. It here however means, I believe, a loose felt cloak. Minsheu in his Dict. 1617, calls it “a rough Irish mantle, or horseman's coat. Gaban, Span. and Fr.—Læna, i. e. vestis quæ super cætera vestimenta imponebatur.” See also Cotgrave's Dict. in v. gaban, and galleverdine. Malone.

Note return to page 193 3&lblank; a very ancient and fish-like smell—misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.] One would almost think that Shakspeare had not been unacquainted with a passage in the fourth book of Homer's Odyssey, as translated by Chapman: “&lblank; The sea-calves savour was “So passing sowre (they still being bred at seas,) “It much afflicted us: for who can please “To lie by one of these same sea-bred whales?” Steevens. Chapman's Odyssey did not appear till 1614. Malone.

Note return to page 194 4&lblank; savages,] The folio reads—salvages, and rightly. It was the spelling and pronunciation of the time. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. 8, st. 35: “There dwelt a salvage nation,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 195 5&lblank; if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit:] This is no impertinent hint to those who indulge themselves in a constant use of wine. When it is necessary for them as a medicine, it produces no effect. Steevens.

Note return to page 196 6&lblank; too much &lblank;] Too much means, any sum, ever so much. So, in the Letters from the Paston Family, vol. ii. p. 219: “And ye be beholdyng unto my Lady for hyr good wurde, for sche hath never preysyd yowe to much.” i. e. though she has praised you much, her praise is not above your merit. It has, however, been observed to me, that when the vulgar mean to ask an extravagant price for any thing, they say, with a laugh, I won't make him pay twice for it. This sense sufficiently accommodates itself to Trinculo's expression. Mr. M. Mason explains the passage differently.—“I will not take for him even more than he is worth.” Steevens. I think the meaning is, Let me take what sum I will, however great, “I shall not take too much for him:” it is impossible for me to sell him too dear. Malone. I apprehend it is ironically said. ‘I will get as much for him as I can.’ Boswell.

Note return to page 197 7&lblank; I know it by thy trembling:] This tremor is always represented as the effect of being possessed by the devil. So, in the Comedy of Errors, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “Mark how he trembles in his extacy!” Steevens.

Note return to page 198 8&lblank; cat;] Alluding to an old proverb, that good liquor will make a cat speak. Steevens.

Note return to page 199 9His forward voice, &c.] The person of Fame was anciently described in this manner. So, in Penelope's Web, by Greene, 1601: “Fame hath two faces, readie as well to back-bite as to flatter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 200 1&lblank; Amen!] Means, stop your draught: come to a conclusion. “I will pour some,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 2I have no long spoon.] Alluding to the proverb, “A long spoon to eat with the devil.” Steevens. See Comedy of Errors, Act IV. Sc. III. and Chaucer's Squier's Tale, 10,916 of the late edit.: “Therefore behoveth him a full long spoone, “That shall ete with a fend.”— Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 202 3&lblank; to be the siege of this moon-calf?] Siege signifies stool in every sense of the word, and is here used in the dirtiest. So, in Holinshed, p. 705: “In this yeare also, a house on London Bridge, called the common siege, or privie, fell downe into the Thames.” A moon-calf is an inanimate shapeless mass, supposed by Pliny to be engendered of woman only. See his Nat. Hist. b. x. ch. 64. Again, in Philemon Holland's translation of book xxx. ch. 14, edit. 1601: “&lblank; there is not a better thing to dissolve and scatter moon-calves, and such like false conceptions in the wombe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 203 4Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy True subject, &c. Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.] The passage should probably be printed thus: “Ste. [To Cal.] Here, swear then. [To Trin.] How escap'dst thou?” The speaker would naturally take notice of Caliban's proffered allegiance. Besides, he bids Trinculo kiss the book after he has answered the question; a sufficient proof of the rectitude of the proposed arrangement. Ritson. Ritson's arrangement of the preceding line is well imagined. M. Mason.

Note return to page 204 5Hast thou not dropped from heaven?] The new-discovered Indians of the island of St. Salvador, asked, by signs, whether Columbus and his companions were not come down from heaven. Tollet.

Note return to page 205 6My mistress shewed me thee, thy dog, and bush.] The old copy, which exhibits this and several preceding speeches of Caliban as prose, (though it be apparent they were designed for verse,) reads—“My mistress shewed me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.” Let the editor who laments the loss of the words—and and thy, compose their elegy. Steevens. He need not compose their elegy if he can restore them to life. Boswell.

Note return to page 206 7I afeard of him?—a very weak monster, &c.] It is to be observed, that Trinculo, the speaker, is not charged with being afraid; but it was his consciousness that he was so that drew this brag from him. This is nature. Warburton.

Note return to page 207 9And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god.] The old copy redundantly reads: “And I will kiss thy foot,” &c. Ritson. This is a common expression, to denote profound obeisance. So, in Timon of Athens: “Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,— “Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him “Drink the free air.” Again, in Titus Andronicus: “&lblank; When you come to him, [the emperor,] at the first approach, you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver your pigeons.” Malone.

Note return to page 208 1&lblank; sea-mells &lblank;] [Old copy, scamels.] This word has puzzled the commentators: Dr. Warburton reads shamois; Mr. Theobald would read any thing rather than scamels. Mr. Holt, who wrote notes upon this play, observes, that limpets are in some places called scams, and therefore I had once suffered scamels to stand. Johnson. Theobald had very reasonably proposed to read sea-malls, or sea-mells. An e, by these careless printers, was easily changed into a c, and from this accident, I believe, all the difficulty arises, the word having been spelt by the transcriber, seamels. Willoughby mentions the bird, as Theobald has informed us. Had Mr. Holt told us in what part of England limpets are called scams, more regard would have been paid to his assertion. I should suppose, at all events, a bird to have been design'd, as young and old fish are taken with equal facility; but young birds are more easily surprised than old ones. Besides, Caliban had already proffered to fish for Stephano. In Cavendish's second voyage, the sailors eat young gulls at the isle of Penguins. Steevens. I have adopted the emendation proposed by Mr. Theobald. In Lincolnshire, as I learn from Sir Joseph Banks, the name sea-mall is applied to all the smaller species of gulls. Plott, the same gentleman adds, in his History of Staffordshire, p. 231, gives an account of the mode of taking a species of gull called in that country pewits (the black-capped gull of Lincolnshire,) with a plate annexed, at the end of which he writes—“they being accounted a good dish at the most plentiful tables.” With regard to the place from which Caliban says he will fetch them, we find in Holland's Pliny, 1600: “As touching the gulls or sea-cobs, they build in rockes.” P. 237. Malone. Sir Joseph Banks informs me, that in Willoughby's, or rather John Ray's Ornithology, p. 34, No. 3, is mentioned the common sea-mall, Larus cinereus minor. Sir Robert Sibbald, in his Ancient State of the Shire of Fife, mentions, amongst fowls which frequent a neighbouring island, several sorts of sea-malls, and one in particular, the katiewake, a fowl of the Larus or mall kind, of the bigness of an ordinary pigeon, which some hold, says he, to be as savoury and as good meat as a partridge is. Reed.

Note return to page 209 2Nor scrape trenchering,] In our author's time trenchers were in general use; and male domesticks were sometimes employed in cleansing them. “I have helped (says Lyly, in his History of his Life and Times, ad an. 1620,) to carry eighteen tubs of water in one morning;—all manner of drudgery I willingly performed; scrape-trenchers,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 210 3'Ban 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,] Perhaps our author remembered a song of Sir P. Sidney's: “Da, da, da—Daridan.” Astrophel and Stella, fol. 1627. Malone.

Note return to page 211 4&lblank; Get a new man.] When Caliban sings this last part of his ditty, he must be supposed to turn his head scornfully toward the cell of Prospero, whose service he had deserted. Steevens.

Note return to page 212 5There be some sports are painful; and their labour Delight in them sets off:] Molliter austerum studio fallente laborem. Hor. sat. 2. lib. ii. Steevens. We have again the same thought in Macbeth: “The labour we delight in physicks pain.” After “and,” at the same time must be understood. Mr. Pope, unnecessarily reads—“But their labour—,” which has been followed by the subsequent editors. In like manner in Coriolanus, Act IV. the same change was made by him. “I am a Roman, and (i. e. and yet) my services are, as you are, against them.” Mr. Pope reads—“I am a Roman, but my services,” &c. Malone. I prefer Mr. Pope's emendation, which is justified by the following passage in the same speech: “&lblank; This my mean task would be “As heavy to me as 'tis odious; but “The mistress that I serve,” &c. It is surely better to change a single word, than to countenance one corruption by another, or suppose that four words, necessary to produce sense, were left to be understood. Steevens. Only one word, yet, is left to be understood. At the same time is explanatory of the sense in which that word is employed. Boswell.

Note return to page 213 6This my mean task would be &lblank;] The metre of this line is defective in the old copy, by the words would be being transferred to the next line. Our author and his contemporaries generally use odious as a trisyllabe. Malone. Mr. Malone prints the passage as follows: “&lblank; This my mean task would be “As heavy to me, as odious: but &lblank;” The word odious, as he observes, is sometimes used as a trisyllable. —Granted; but then it is always with the penult. short. The metre, therefore, as regulated by him, would still be defective. By the advice of Dr. Farmer, I have supplied the necessary monosyllable— 'tis; which completes the measure, without the slighest change of sense. Steevens. I have restored the reading of the old copy. The first line is indeed defective, but innumerable instances of the same license occur in these plays. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 214 7&lblank; I forget:] Perhaps Ferdinand means to say—I forget my task; but that is not surprising, for I am thinking on Miranda, and these sweet thoughts, &c. He may, however mean, that he “forgets or thinks little of the baseness of his employment.” Whichsoever be the sense, And, or For, should seem more proper in the next line, than But. Malone.

Note return to page 215 8Most busy-less, when I do it.] The two first folios read: “Most busy lest, when I do it.” 'Tis true this reading is corrupt; but the corruption is so very little removed from the truth of the text, that I cannot afford to think well of my own sagacity for having discovered it. Theobald.

Note return to page 216 9And yours against.] The old copy reads:— “And yours it is against.” But the advice of Dr. Farmer I have omitted the words in Italicks, as they are needless to the sense of the passage, and would have rendered the hemistich too long to join with its successor in making a regular verse. Steevens.

Note return to page 217 1&lblank; 'tis fresh morning with me, When you are by at night.] Tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atrâ Lumen &lblank;. Tibul. lib. iv. el. xiii. Malone.

Note return to page 218 2&lblank; hest &lblank;] For behest; i. e. command. So before, Act I. Sc. II.: “Refusing her grand hests &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 219 3Of every creature's best.] Alluding to the picture of Venus by Apelles. Johnson. Had Shakspeare availed himself of this elegant circumstance, he would scarcely have said, “of every creature's best,” because such a phrase includes the component parts of the brute creation. Had he been thinking on the judicious selection made by the Grecian Artist, he would rather have expressed his meaning by “every woman's,” or “every beauty's best.” Perhaps he had only in his thoughts a fable related by Sir Phillip Sidney in the third book of his Arcadia. The beasts obtained permission from Jupiter to make themselves a King; and accordingly created one of every creature's best: “Full glad they were, and tooke the naked sprite,   “Which straight the earth yclothed in his clay: “The lyon heart; the ounce gave active might;   “The horse good shape; the sparrow lust to play;   “Nightingale voice, entising songs to say, &c. &c. “Thus man was made; thus man their lord became.” In the 1st book of the Arcadia, a similar praise is also bestowed by a lover on his mistress: “She is her selfe of best things the collection.” Steevens.

Note return to page 220 4Therein forget.] The old copy, in contempt of metre, reads —“I therein do forget.” Steevens.

Note return to page 221 5&lblank; than I would suffer, &c.] The old copy reads—Than to suffer. The emendation is Mr. Pope's Steevens. The reading of the old copy is right, however ungrammatical. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.” See vol. x. p. 311, n. 8. Again, in Measure for Measure: “Admit—that there were “No other way to save him, but that either “You must lay down the treasures of your body, “To this supposed, or else to let him suffer, “What would you do?” Malone. The defective metre shows that some corruption had happened in the present instance. I receive no deviations from established grammar, on the single authority of the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 222 6The flesh-fly blow my mouth;] i. e. swell and inflame my mouth. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Here is a vent of blood and something blown.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; and let the water-flies “Blow me into abhorring.” Malone. I believe Mr. Malone is mistaken: To blow, as it stands in the text, means ‘the act of a fly by which she lodges eggs in flesh.’ So, in Chapman's version of the Iliad: “&lblank; I much fear, lest with the blows of flies “His brass-inflicted wounds are fill'd &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 223 7&lblank; of what else i' the world.] i. e. of aught else; of whatsoever else there is in the world. I once thought we should read —aught else. But the old copy is right. So, in King Henry VI. Part III: “With promise of his sister and what else, “To strengthen and support king Edward's place.” Malone.

Note return to page 224 8I am a fool, To weep at what I am glad of.] This is one of those touches of nature that distinguish Shakspeare from all other writers. It was necessary in support of the character of Miranda, to make her appear unconscious that excess of sorrow and excess of joy find alike their relief from tears; and as this is the first time that consummate pleasure had made any near approaches to her heart, she calls such a seeming contradictory expression of it, folly. The same thought occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “Back, foolish tears, back, to your native spring! “Your tributary drops belong to woe, “Which you mistaking offer up to joy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 225 9&lblank; it seeks &lblank;] i. e. my affection seeks. Malone.

Note return to page 226 1I am your wife, &c.] Si tibi non cordi fuerant connubia nostra. Attamen in vestras potuisti ducere sedes, Quæ tibi jucundo famularer serva labore; Candida permulcens liquidis vestigia lymphis, Purpureave tuum consternens veste cubile. Catul. 62. Malone.

Note return to page 227 2&lblank; your fellow &lblank;] i. e. companion. Steevens.

Note return to page 228 3&lblank; here's my hand. Miran. And mine, with my heart in't:] It is still customary in the west of England, when the conditions of a bargain are agreed upon, for the parties to ratify it by joining their hands, and at the same time for the purchaser to give an earnest. To this practice the poet alludes. So, in The Winter's Tale: “Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, “And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter “I am yours for ever.” And again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Pro. Why then we'll make exchange; here, take you this. “Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. “Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy.” Henley.

Note return to page 229 4So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpriz'd with all;] The sense might be clearer, were we to make a slight transportation: “So glad of this as they, who are surpriz'd “With all, I cannot be &lblank;” Perhaps, however, more consonantly with ancient language, we should join two of the words together, and read— “Who are surpriz'd withal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 230 5&lblank; bear up, and board 'em:] A metaphor alluding to a chace at sea. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 231 6&lblank; if the other two be brained like us, the state totters.] We meet with a similar idea in Antony and Cleopatra: “He bears the third part of the world.”—“The third part then is drunk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 232 7&lblank; he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.] I believe this to be an allusion to a story that is met with in Stowe, and other writers of the time. It seems in the year 1574, a whale was thrown ashore near Ramsgate: “A monstrous fish (says the chronicler) but not so monstrous as some reported— for his eyes were in his head, and not in his back.” Summary, 1575, p. 562. Farmer.

Note return to page 233 8&lblank; I swam, &c.] This play was not published till 1623, Albumazar made its appearance in 1614, and has a passage relative to the escape of a sailor yet more incredible. Perhaps, in both instances, a sneer was meant at the Voyages of Ferdinando Mendez Pinto, or the exaggerated accounts of other lying travellers: “&lblank; five days I was under water: and at length “Got up and spread myself upon a chest, “Rowing with arms, and steering with my feet: “And thus in five days more got land.” Act III. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 234 9&lblank; or my standard. Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.] Meaning, he is so much intoxicated, as not to be able to stand. The quibble between standard, an ensign, and standard, a fruit-tree that grows without support, is evident. Steevens.

Note return to page 235 1&lblank; thou deboshed fish thou.] I met with this word, which I suppose to be the same as debauched in Randolph's Jealous Lovers, 1634: “&lblank; See, your house be stor'd “With the deboishest roarers in this city.” Again, in Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “&lblank; saucy fellows “Deboshed and daily drunkards.” The substantive occurs in Partheneia Sacra, 1633: “&lblank; A hater of men, rather than the deboishments of their manners.” When the word was first adopted from the French language, it appears to have been spelt according to the pronunciation, and therefore wrongly; but ever since it has been spelt right, it has been uttered with equal impropriety. Steevens.

Note return to page 236 2I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd To hearken once again the suit I made thee?] The old copy which erroneously prints this and other of Caliban's speeches as prose, reads— “&lblank; to the suit I made thee;” But the elliptical mode of expression in the text, has already occurred in the second scene of the first act of this play: “&lblank; being an enemy “To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 237 3&lblank; a tyrant;] Tyrant is here employed as a trisyllable. Steevens. Mr. Steevens, after frequently ridiculing the notion that hour, and other words of that description, can be pronounced as trisyllables, is willing to make one of tyrant, in order to force Caliban's speeches into metre. Malone.

Note return to page 238 4&lblank; I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head.] Perhaps Shakspeare caught this idea from the 4th chapter of Judges, v. 21: “Then Jael, Heber's wife, took a nail of the tent, and took an hammer in her hand, and went softly unto him, and smote the nail into his temples, &c.: for he was fast asleep,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 239 5What a pied ninny's this?] It should be remembered that Trinculo is no sailor, but a jester; and is so called in the ancient dramatis personæ. He therefore wears the party-coloured dress of one of these characters. See fig. xii. in the plate annexed to the First Part of King Henry IV. and Mr. Tollet's explanation of it. So, in the Devil's Law Case, 1623: “Unless I wear a pied fool's coat.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson observes, that Caliban could have no knowledge of the striped coat usually worn by fools; and would therefore transfer this speech to Stephano. But though Caliban might not know this circumstance, Shakspeare did. Surely he who has given to all countries and all ages the manners of his own, might forget himself here, as well as in other places. Malone.

Note return to page 240 6&lblank; Remember, First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command:] Milton, in his Masque at Ludlow Castle, seems to have caught a hint from the foregoing passage: “Oh, ye mistook; ye should have snatch'd his wand, “And bound him fast; without his rod revers'd, “And backward mutters of dissevering power, “We cannot free the lady.”— Steevens. In a former scene Prospero says, “&lblank; I'll to my book; “For yet, ere supper time, must I perform “Much business appertaining.” Again, in Act V.: “And deeper than did ever plummet sound, “I'll drown my book.” In the old romances the sorcerer is always furnished with a book, by reading certain parts of which he is enabled to summon to his aid what dæmons or spirits he has occasion to employ. When he is deprived of his book, his power ceases. Our author might have observed this circumstance much insisted on in the Orlando Innamorato of Boyardo, (of which, as the Rev. Mr. Bowle informs me, the first three cantos were translated and published in 1598,) and also in Harrington's translation of the Orlando Furioso, 1591. A few lines from the former of these works may prove the best illustration of the passage before us. Angelica, by the aid of Argalia, having bound the enchanter Malagigi: “The damsel searcheth forthwith in his breast, “And there the damned booke she straightway founde, “Which circles strange and shapes of fiendes exprest; “No sooner she some wordes therein did sound, “And opened had some damned leaves unblest, “But spirits of th' ayre, earth, sea, came out of hand, “Crying alowde, what is't you us command?” Malone.

Note return to page 241 7Calls her a non-pareil: I ne'er saw woman,] The old copy reads: “Calls her a non-pareil: I never saw a woman.” But this verse, being too long by a foot, Hanmer judiciously gave it as it stands in my text (I ne'er saw woman). By means as innocent, the versification of Shakspeare has, I hope, in many instances been restored. The temerity of some critics had too long imposed severe restraints on their successors. Steevens.

Note return to page 242 8Will you troll the catch &lblank;] Ben Jonson uses the word in Every Man in his Humour: “If he read this with patience, I'll troul ballads.” Again, in the Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “A fellow that will troul it off with tongue. “Faith, you shall hear me troll it after my fashion.” To troll a catch, I suppose, is to dismiss it trippingly from the tongue. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 9This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody.] A ridiculous figure, sometimes represented on signs. Westward for Smelts, a book which our author appears to have read, was printed for John Trundle in Barbican, at the sign of the No-body. Malone. The allusion is here to the print of No-body, as prefixed to the anonymous comedy of “No-body, and Some-body;” without date, but printed before the year 1600. Reed.

Note return to page 244 1&lblank; afeard?] Thus the old copy.—To affear is an obsolete verb, with the same meaning as to affray. So, in the Shipmannes Tale of Chaucer, v. 13,330: “This wif was not aferde ne affraide.” Between aferde and affraide, in the time of Chaucer, there might have been some nice distinction which is at present lost. Steevens.

Note return to page 245 2I would, I could see this taborer:] Several of the incidents in this scene, viz.—Ariel's mimickry of Trinculo—the tune played on the tabor,—and Caliban's description of the twangling instruments, &c.—might have been borrowed from Marco Paolo, the old Venetian voyager; who in lib. i. ch. 44, describing the desert of Lop in Asia, says—“Audiuntur ibi voces dæmonum, &c. voces fingentes eorum quos comitari se putant. Audiuntur. interdum in aere concentus musicorum instrumentorum,” &c. This passage was rendered accessible to Shakspeare by an English translation entitled The most noble and famous Trauels of Marcus Paulus, one of the Nobilitie of the State of Venice, &c. bl. l. 4to. 1579, by John Frampton: “&lblank; You shall heare in the ayre the sound of tabers and other instruments, to put the trauellers in feare, &c. by euill spirites that make these soundes, and also do call diuerse of the trauellers by their names, &c. ch. 36, p. 32. To some of these circumstances Milton also alludes: “&lblank; calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, “And aery tongues that syllable men's names, “On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 246 3Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.] The first words are addressed to Caliban, who, vexed at the folly of his new companions idly running after the musick, while they ought only to have attended to the main point, the dispatching Prospero, seems, for some little time, to have staid behind. Heath. The words—“Wilt come?” should be added to Stephano's speech. I'll follow, is Trinculo's answer. Ritson.

Note return to page 247 4By'r lakin,] i. e. The diminutive only of our lady, i. e. ladykin. Steevens.

Note return to page 248 5Our frustrate search &lblank;] Frustrate, for frustrated. So, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Hymn to Apollo: “&lblank; some God hath fill'd “Our frustrate sails, defeating what we will'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 249 6A living drollery:] Shows, called drolleries, were in Shakspeare's time performed by puppets only. From these our modern drolls, exhibited at fairs, &c. took their name. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian: “I had rather make a drollery till thirty.” Steevens. “A living drollery,” i. e. a drollery not represented by wooden machines, but by personages who are alive. Malone.

Note return to page 250 7&lblank; one tree, the phœnix' throne;] For this idea, our author might have been indebted to Phil. Holland's Translation of Pliny, b. xiii. chap. 4: “I myself verily have heard straunge things of this kind of tree; and namely in regard of the bird Phœnix, which is supposed to have taken that name of this date tree [called in Greek, &grf;&gro;&gri;&grn;&gri;&grc;]; for it was assured unto me, that the said bird died with that tree, and revived of itselfe as the tree sprung again.” Steevens. Again, in one of our author's poems, prefixed to Chester's Rosalynd, for which see the end of vol. XX.: “Let the bird of loudest lay, “On the sole Arabian tree,” &c. Our poet had probably Lyly's Euphues, and his England, particularly in his thoughts: signat. Q3.—“As there is but one phœnix in the world, so is there but one tree in Arabia wherein she buildeth.” See also, Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Rasin, a tree in Arabia, whereof there is but one found, and upon it the phœnix sits.” Malone.

Note return to page 251 8And I'll be sworn 'tis true: Travellers ne'er did lie,] I suppose this redundant line originally stood thus: “And I'll be sworn to't: Travellers ne'er did lie—.” Hanmer reads, as plausibly: “And I'll be sworn 'tis true. Travellers ne'er lied.” Steevens.

Note return to page 252 9&lblank; such islanders,] The old copy has islands. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 253 1For, certes, &c.] Certes is an obsolete word, signifying certainly. So, in Othello: “&lblank; certes, says he, “I have already chose my officer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 254 2Their manners are more gentle-kind,] The old copy has —“gentle, kind&lblank;.” I read (in conformity to a practice of our author, who delights in such compound epithets, of which the first adjective is to be considered as an adverb,) gentle-kind. Thus, in King Richard III. we have childish-foolish, senseless-obstinate, and mortal-staring. Steevens.

Note return to page 255 3&lblank; too much muse.] To muse, in ancient language, is to admire, to wonder. So, in Macbeth: “Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends.” Steevens.

Note return to page 256 4Praise in departing.] i. e. Do not praise your entertainment too soon, lest you should have reason to retract your commendation. It is a proverbial saying. So, in The Two angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “And so she doth; but praise your luck at parting.” Again, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1661: “Now praise at thy parting.” Stephen Gosson, in his pamphlet entitled, Playes confuted in five Actions, &c. (no date) acknowledges himself to have been the author of a morality called Praise at Parting. Steevens.

Note return to page 257 5&lblank; that there were mountaineers, &c.] Whoever is curious to know the particulars relative to these mountaineers, may consult Maundeville's Travels, printed in 1503, by Wynken de Worde; but it is yet a known truth that the inhabitants of the Alps have been long accustomed to such excrescences or tumours. Quis tumidum guttur miratur in Alpibus? Steevens.

Note return to page 258 6&lblank; men, Whose heads stood in their breasts?] Our author might have had this intelligence likewise from the translation of Pliny, b. v. chap. 8: “The Blemmyi, by report, have no heads, but mouth and eies both in their breasts.” Steevens. Or he might have had it from Hackluyt's Voyages, 1598: “On that branch which is called Caora are a nation of people, whose heads appear not above their shoulders. They are reported to have their eyes in their shoulders, and their mouths in the middle of their breasts.” Malone. See the plate at the end of Othello. Boswell.

Note return to page 259 7Each putter-out, &c.] The ancient custom here alluded to was this. In this age of travelling, it was a practice with those who engaged in long and hazardous expeditions, to place out a sum of money on condition of receiving great interest for it at their return home. So, Puntarvolo, (it is Theobald's quotation,) in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “I do intend, this year of jubilee coming on, to travel; and (because I will not altogether go upon expence) I am determined to put some five thousand pound, to be paid me five for one, upon the return of my wife, myself, and my dog, from the Turk's court in Constantinople.” To this instance I may add another from The Ball, a comedy, by Chapman and Shirley, 1639: “I did most politickly disburse my sums “To have five for one at my return from Venice.” Again, in Amends for Ladies, 1639: “I would I had put out something upon my return; “I had as lieve be at the Bermoothes.” “&lblank; on five for one” means ‘on the terms of five for one.’ So, in Barnaby Riche's Faults, and Nothing but Faults, 1607: “&lblank; those whipsters, that having spent the greatest part of their patrimony in prodigality, will give out the rest of their stocke, to be paid two or three for one, upon their return from Rome,” &c. &c. Steevens. “Each putter-out on five for one,] The old copy has: “&lblank; of five for one.” I believe the words were only transposed, and that the author wrote, as I have corrected it: “Each putter-out of one for five.” So, in The Scourge of Folly, by J. Davies of Heroford, printed about the year 1611: “Sir Solus straight will travel, as they say, “And gives out one for three, when home comes he.” It appears from Moryson's Itinerary, 1617, Part I. p. 198, that “this custom of giving out money upon these adventures was first used in court, and among noblemen;” and that some years before his book was published, “bankerouts, stage-players, and men of base condition had drawn it into contempt.” by undertaking journeys merely for gain upon their return. Malone.

Note return to page 260 8I will stand to, and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel The best is past:] I cannot but think that this passage was intended to be in a rhyme, and should be printed thus: “I will stand to and feed; although my last, “No matter, since I feel the best is past.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 261 9Enter Ariel like a harpy; &c.] This circumstance is taken from the third book of the Æneid as translated by Phaer, bl. l. 4to. 1558: “&lblank; fast to meate we fall. “But sodenly from down the hills with grisly fall to syght, “The harpies come, and beating wings with great noys out thei shright, “And at our meate they snatch; and with their clawes,” &c. Milton, Parad. Reg. b. ii. has adopted the same imagery: “&lblank; with that “Both table and provisions vanish'd quite, “With sound of harpies' wings, and talons heard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 262 1&lblank; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes.] Though I will not undertake to prove that all the culinary pantomimes exhibited in France and Italy were known and imitated in this kingdom, I may observe that flying, rising, and descending services were to be found at entertainments given by the Duke of Burgundy, &c. in 1453, and by the Grand Duke of Tuscany in 1600, &c. See M. Le Grand D'Aussi's Histoire de la vie Privée des François, vol. iii. p. 294, &c. Examples, therefore, of machinery similar to that of Shakspeare in the present instance, were to be met with, and perhaps had been adopted on the stage, as well as at public festivals here in England. See my note on The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 184, from whence it appears that a striking conceit in an entertainment given by the Vidam of Chartres, had been transferred to another feast prepared in England as a compliment to Prince Alasco, 1583. Steevens.

Note return to page 263 2That hath to instrument this lower world, &c.] i. e. that makes use of this world, and every thing in it, as its instruments to bring about its ends. Steevens.

Note return to page 264 3One dowle that's in my plume;] The old copy exhibits the passage thus: “One dowle that's in my plumbe.” Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Bailey, in his Dictionary, says, that dowle is a feather, or rather the single particles of the down. Since the first appearance of this edition, my very industrious and learned correspondent, Mr. Tollet, of Betley, in Staffordshire, has enabled me to retract a too hasty censure on Bailey, to whom we were long indebted for our only English Dictionary. In a small book, entitled Humane Industry: or, A History of most Manual Arts, printed in 1661, page 93, is the following passage: “The wool-bearing trees in Æthiopia, which Virgil speaks of, and the Eriophori Arbores in Theophrastus, are not such trees as have a certain wool or dowl upon the outside of them, as the small cotton; but short trees that bear a ball upon the top, pregnant with wool, which the Syrians call Cott, the Græcians Gossypium, the Italians Bombagio, and we Bombase.”—“There is a certain shell-fish in the sea, called Pinna, that bears a mossy dowl, or wool, whereof cloth was spun and made.”—Again, p. 95, “Trichitis, or the hayrie stone, by some Greek authors, and Alumen plumaceum, or downy alum, by the Latinists: this hair or dowl is spun into thread, and weaved into cloth.” I have since discovered the same word in The Ploughman's Tale, erroneously attributed to Chaucer, v. 3202: “And swore by cock 'is herte and blode, “He would tere him every doule.” Steevens. Cole in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, interprets “young dowle,” by lanugo. Malone.

Note return to page 265 4&lblank; the elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow ministers Are like invulnerable:] So, in Phaer's Virgil, 1573: “Their swords by them they laid— “And on the filthy birds they beat— “But fethers none do from them fal, nor wound for strok doth bleed, “Nor force of weapons hurt them can.” Ritson.

Note return to page 266 5&lblank; clear life &lblank;] Pure, blameless, innocent. Johnson. So, in Timon: “&lblank; roots you clear heavens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 267 6&lblank; is nothing, but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing.] The meaning, which is somewhat obscured by the expression, is,—“a miserable fate, which nothing but contrition and amendment of life can avert.” Malone.

Note return to page 268 7&lblank; with mops and mowes &lblank;] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; and Flibbertigibbet of mopping and mowing.” Steevens. The old copy, by a manifest error of the press, reads—with mocks. So afterwards: “Will be here with mop and mowe.” Malone. To mock and to mowe, seem to have had a meaning somewhat similar; i. e. to insult, by making mouths, or wry faces. Steevens.

Note return to page 269 8&lblank; with good life.] With good life may mean, ‘with exact presentation of their several characters, with observation strange of their particular and distinct parts.’ So we say, ‘he acted to the life.’ Johnson. Thus in the 6th canto of the Barons' Wars, by Drayton: “Done for the last with such exceeding life, “As art therein with nature seem'd at strife.” Again, in our author's King Henry VIII. Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; the tract of every thing “Would by a good discourser lose some life, “Which action's self was tongue to.” Good life, however, in Twelfth Night, seems to be used for innocent jollity, as we now say a bon vivant: “Would you (says the Clown) have a love song, or a song of good life?” Sir Toby answers, “A love song, a love song;”—“Ay, ay, (replies Sir Andrew,) I care not for good life.” It is plain, from the character of the last speaker, that he was meant to mistake the sense in which good life is used by the Clown. It may, therefore, in the present instance, mean, honest alacrity, or cheerfulness. Life seems to be used in the chorus to the fifth act of King Henry V, with some meaning like that wanted to explain the approbation of Prospero: “Which cannot in their huge and proper life “Be here presented.” The same phrase occurs yet more appositely in Chapman's translation of Homer's Hymn to Apollo: “And these are acted with such exquisite life, “That one would say, Now, the Ionian strains “Are turn'd immortals.” Steevens. To do any thing with good life, is still a provincial expression in the West of England, and signifies, ‘to do it with the full bent and energy of mind:—“And observation strange,” is with such minute attention to the orders given, as to excite admiration. Henley.

Note return to page 270 9Their several kinds have done:] i. e. have discharged the several functions allotted to their different natures. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act V. Sc. II. the Clown says—“You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 271 1&lblank; bass my trespass.] The deep pipe told it me in a rough bass sound. Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. 12: “&lblank; the rolling sea resounding soft, “In his big base them fitly answered.” Steevens. Again, in Davis's Microcosmos, 1605, p. 32: “The singing bullets made his soul rejoice “As musicke that the hearing most allures; “And if the canons bas'd it with their voice “He seemed as ravisht with an heavenly noise.” Reed.

Note return to page 272 2And with him there lie mudded. But one fiend &lblank;] As these hemistichs, taken together, exceed the propoportion of a verse, I cannot help regarding the words—with him, and but, as playhouse interpolations. The Tempest was evidently one of the last works of Shakspeare; and it is therefore natural to suppose the metre of it must have been exact and regular. Dr. Farmer concurs with me in this supposition. Steevens.

Note return to page 273 3Like poison given, &c.] The natives of Africa have been supposed to be possessed of the secret how to temper poisons with such art as not to operate till several years after they were administered. Their drugs were then as certain in their effect, as subtle in their preparation. So, in the celebrated libel called Leicester's Commonwealth: “I heard him once myselfe in publique act at Oxford, and that in presence of my lord of Leicester, maintain that poison might be so tempered and given, as it should not appear presently, and yet should kill the party afterwards at what time should be appointed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 274 4&lblank; this ecstacy &lblank;] Ecstacy meant not anciently, as at present, rapturous pleasure, but alienation of mind. So, in Hamlet, Act III. Sc. IV.: “Nor sense to ecstacy was e'er so thrall'd &lblank;.” Mr. Locke has not inelegantly styled it dreaming with our eyes open. Steevens.

Note return to page 275 5&lblank; a thread of mine own life,] The old copy reads— third. The word thread was formerly so spelt, as appears from the following passage: “Long maist thou live, and when the sisters shall decree “To cut in twaine the twisted third of life, “Then let him die,” &c. See comedy of Mucedorus, 1619, signat. C 3. Hawkins. “A third of mine own life” is a fibre or a part of my own life. Prospero considers himself as the stock or parent-tree, and his daughter as a fibre or portion of himself, and for whose benefit he himself lives. In this sense the word is used in Markham's English Husbandman, edit. 1635, p. 146: “Cut off all the maine rootes, within half a foot of the tree, only the small thriddes or twist rootes you shall not cut at all.” Again, ibid.: “Every branch and thrid of the root.” This is evidently the same word as thread, which is likewise spelt thrid by Lord Bacon. Tollet. So, in Lingua, &c. 1607; and I could furnish many more instances: “For as a subtle spider closely sitting “In center of her web that spreadeth round, “If the least fly but touch the smallest thrid, “She feels it instantly.” The following quotation, however, should seem to place the meaning beyond all dispute. In Acolastus, a comedy, 1540, is this passage: “&lblank; one of wordly shame's children, of his countenance, and threde of his body.” Steevens. Again, in Tancred and Gismund, a tragedy, 1592, Tancred, speaking of his intention to kill his daughter, says: “Against all law of kinde to shred in twaine “The golden threede that doth us both maintain.” Malone.

Note return to page 276 6&lblank; strangely stood the test:] Strangely is used by way of commendation, merveilleusement, to a wonder; the same is the sense in the foregoing scene. Johnson. i. e. in the last scene of the preceding act: “&lblank; with good life “And observation strange &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 277 7Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition &lblank;] My guest, first folio. Rowe first read—gift. Johnson. A similar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I send him “The greatness he has got.” Steevens.

Note return to page 278 8&lblank; her virgin knot &lblank;] The same expression occurs in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Untide I still my virgin knot will keepe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 279 9If thou dost break her virgin knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies, &c.] This and the passage in Pericles Prince of Tyre, are manifest allusions to the zones of the ancients, which were worn as guardians of chastity by marriageable young women. “Puellæ, contra, nondum viripotentes, hujusmodi zonis non utebantur: quod videlicet immaturis virgunculis nullum, aut certè minimum, a corruptoribus periculum immineret: quas propterea vocabant &gra;&grm;&gri;&grt;&grr;&gro;&gru;&grst;, nempe discinctas.” There is a passage in Nonnus, which will sufficiently illustrate Prospero's expression: &grK;&gro;&gru;&grr;&grh;&grst; &grd;&grap; &gre;&grg;&grg;&gru;&grst; &gri;&grk;&gra;&grn;&gre;&grcolon; &grk;&gra;&gri; &gra;&grt;&grr;&gre;&grm;&gra;&grst; &gra;&grk;&grr;&gro;&grn; &gre;&grr;&gru;&grs;&grs;&gra;&grst; &grD;&gre;&grs;&grm;&gro;&grn; &gra;&grs;&gru;&grl;&grh;&grt;&gro;&gri;&gro; &grf;&gru;&grl;&gra;&grk;&grt;&gro;&grr;&gra; &grg;&gru;&grs;&gra;&grt;&gro; &grm;&gri;&grt;&grr;&grh;&grst; &grF;&gre;&gri;&grd;&gro;&grm;&gre;&grn;&grh; &grp;&gra;&grl;&gra;&grm;&grh;, &grm;&grh; &grp;&gra;&grr;&grq;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grn; &gru;&grp;&grn;&gro;&grst; &gre;&gra;&grs;&grs;&grh;. Henley.

Note return to page 280 1No sweet aspersion &lblank;] Aspersion is here used in its primitive sense of sprinkling. At present it is expressive only of calumny and detraction. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 2When I shall think, or Phœbus' steeds are founder'd, Or night kept chain'd below.] A similar train of ideas occurs in the 23d book of Homer's Odyssey thus translated by Chapman: “&lblank; she th' extended night “With-held in long date; nor would let the light “Her wing'd-hoof horse join: Lampus, Phaeton, “Those ever colts, that bring the morning on “To worldly men.” Steevens.

Note return to page 282 3Fairly spoke:] Fairly is here used as a trisyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 283 4&lblank; the rabble,] The crew of meaner spirits. Johnson.

Note return to page 284 5Some vanity of mine art;] So, in the unprinted romance of EMARE, quoted by Mr. Warton in his dissertation on the Gesta Romanorum, (a prefix to the third vol. of the History of English Poetry); “The emperour said on hygh, “Sertes, thys is a fayry, “Or ellys a vanite.” i. e. an illusion. Steevens. Emare has, since this note was written, been printed by Mr. Ritson. Romances, vol. ii. Boswell.

Note return to page 285 6&lblank; Come, and go, &lblank; Each one, tripping on his toe,] So, in Milton's L'Allegro, v. 33: “Come, and trip it as you go “On the light fantastic toe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 286 7&lblank; bring a corollary,] That is, bring more than are sufficient, rather than fail for want of numbers. Corollary means surplus. Corolaire, Fr. See Cotgrave's Dictionary. Steevens.

Note return to page 287 8No tongue;] Those who are present at incantations are obliged to be strictly silent, “else” as we are afterwards told, “the spell is marred.” Johnson.

Note return to page 288 9&lblank; thatch'd with stover,] Stover (in Cambridgeshire and other counties) signifies hay made of coarse rank grass, such as even cows will not eat while it is green. Stover is likewise used as thatch for cart-lodges, and other buildings that deserve but rude and cheap coverings. The word occurs in the 25th song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “To draw out sedge and reed, for thatch and stover fit.” Again, in his Muses' Elyzium: “Their browse and stover waxing thin and scant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 289 1Thy bank with peonied, and lilied brims,] The old edition reads pioned and twilled brims, which gave rise to Mr. Holt's conjecture, that the poet originally wrote: “&lblank; with pioned and tilled brims.” Peonied is the emendation of Hanmer. Spenser and the author of Muleasses the Turk, a tragedy, 1610, use pioning for digging. It is not therefore difficult to find a meaning for the word as it stands in the old copy; and remove a letter from twilled, and it leaves us tilled. I am yet, however, in doubt whether we ought not to read lilied brims; for Pliny, b. xxvi. ch. x. mentions the water-lily as a preserver of chastity; and says, elsewhere, that the Peony medeter Faunorum in Quiete Ludibriis, &c. In a poem entitled The Herring's Tayle, 4to. 1598, “the mayden piony” is introduced. In the Arraignement of Paris, 1584, are mentioned: “The watry flow'rs and lilies of the banks.” And Edward Fenton in his Secrete Wonders of Nature, 4to. b. vi. 1569, asserts, that “the water-lily mortifieth altogether the appetite of sensualitie, and defends from unchaste thoughts and dreames of venery.” In the 20th song of Drayton's Polyolbion, the Naiades are represented as making chaplets with all the tribe of aquatic flowers; and Mr. Tollet informs me, that Lyte's Herbal says, “one kind of peonie is called by some, maiden or virgin peonie.” In Ovid's Banquet of Sense, by Chapman, 1625, I meet with the following stanza, in which twill-pants are enumerated among flowers: “White and red jasmines, merry, melliphill,   “Fair crown imperial, emperor of flowers; “Immortal amaranth, white aphrodill,   “And cup-like twill-pants strew'd in Bacchus' bowers.” If twill be the ancient name of any flower, the old reading, pioned and twilled, may stand. Steevens. Mr. Warton, in his notes upon Milton, after silently acquiescing in the substitution of pionied for pioned, produces from the Arcades “Ladon's lillied banks,” as an example to countenance a further change of twilled to lillied, which, accordingly, Mr. Rann hath foisted into the text. But before such a license is allowed, may it not be asked—If the word pionied can any where be found?—or (admitting such a verbal from peony, like Milton's lillied from lily, to exist,)—On the banks of what river do peonies grow?—Or (if the banks of any river should be discovered to yield them) whether they and the lilies that, in common with them, betrim those banks, be the produce of spongy April?— Or, whence it can be gathered that Iris here is at all speaking of the banks of a river?—and, whether, as the bank in question is the property, not of a water-nymph, but of Ceres, it is not to be considered as an object of her own care?—Hither the goddess of husbandry is represented as resorting, because at the approach of spring, it becomes needful to repair the banks (or mounds) of the flat meads, whose grass not only shooting over, but being more succulent than that of the turfy mountains, would, for want of precaution, be devoured, and so the intended stover [hay, or winter keep,] with which these meads are proleptically described as thatched, be lost. The giving way and caving in of the brims of those banks, occasioned by the heats, rains, and frosts of the preceding year, are made good, by opening the trenches from whence the banks themselves were at first raised, and facing them up afresh with the mire those trenches contain. This being done, the brims of the banks are, in the poet's language, pioned and twilled.—Mr. Warton, himself, in a note upon Comus, hath cited a passage in which pioners are explained to be diggers [rather trenchers] and Mr. Steevens mentions Spenser and the author of Muleasses, as both using pioning for digging. Twilled is obviously formed from the participle of the French verb touiller, which Cotgrave interprets “filthily to mix or mingle; confound or shuffle together; bedirt; begrime; besmear:”—significations that join to confirm the explanation here given. This “bank with pioned and twilled brims” is described, as ‘trimmed, at the behest of Ceres, by spongy April, with flowers, to make cold nymphs chaste crowns.’ These flowers were neither peonies nor lilies, for they never blow at this season, but “lady-smocks all silver white,” which, during this humid month, start up in abundance on such banks, and thrive like oats on the same kind of soil:—“Avoine touillée croist comme enragée.”—That OU changes into W, in words derived from the French, is apparent in cordwainer, from cordouannier, and many others. Henley. Mr. Henley's note contends for small proprieties, and abounds with minute observation. But that Shakspeare was no diligent botanist, may be ascertained from his erroneous descriptions of a cowslip, (in the Tempest and Cymbeline,) for who ever heard it characterized as a bell-shaped flower, or could allow the drops at the bottom of it to be of a crimson hue? With equal carelessness, or want of information, in The Winter's Tale he enumerates “lilies of all kinds,” among the children of the spring, and as contemporaries with the daffodil, the primrose, and the violet; and in his celebrated song, (one stanza of which is introduced at the beginning of the fourth act of Measure for Measure,) he talks of Pinks “that April wears.” It might be added, (if we must speak by the card,) that wherever there is a bank there is a ditch; where there is a ditch there may be water; and where there is water the aquatic lilies may flourish, whether the bank in question belongs to a river or a field.—These are petty remarks, but they are occasioned by petty cavils.—It was enough for our author that peonies and lilies were well known flowers, and he placed them on any bank, and produced them in any of the genial months, that particularly suited his purpose. He who has confounded the customs of different ages and nations, might easily confound the produce of the seasons. That his documents de Re Rusticâ were more exact, is equally improbable. He regarded objects of Agriculture, &c. in the gross, and little thought when he meant to bestow some ornamental epithet on the banks appropriated to a Goddess, that a future critic would wish him to say their “brims were filthily mixed or mingled, confounded, or shuffled together; bedirted, begrimed, and besmeared.” Mr. Henley, however, has not yet proved the existence of the derivative which he labours to introduce as an English word; nor will the lovers of elegant description wish him much success in his attempt. Unconvinced, therefore, by his strictures, I shall not exclude a border of flowers to make room for the graces of the spade, or what Mr. Pope, in his Dunciad, has styled “the majesty of mud.” Steevens. Piony is given by Johnson in his Dictionary as well as peony; and Mr. Todd derives it from the Saxon pionie. An anonymous correspondent suggested to Mr. Malone that twilled brims meant banks fringed with thickly matted grass, resembling the stuff called twilled cloth, in which the cords appear closely twisted together. Mr. Boaden has observed to me that Mr. Steevens might have offered a better defence than he has produced for his reading lillied, which Mr. Henley objected to, because lillies are not to be found in April. In Lord Bacon's Essay on Gardens, where he is enumerating the flowers which are in season at different periods of the year, we meet with the following passage: “In April follow, the double-white violet; the wall-flower; the stock-gilly-flower; the cowslip; flower-de-luces; and lillies of all natures; rose-mary flowers; the tulippe; the double piony, &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 290 2&lblank; and thy broom groves,] Broom, in this place, signifies the Spartium scoparium, of which brooms are frequently made. Near Gamlingay in Cambridgeshire it grows high enough to conceal the tallest cattle as they pass through it; and in places where it is cultivated, still higher: a circumstance that had escaped my notice, till I was told of it by Professor Martyn, whose name I am particularly happy to insert among those of other friends who have honoured and improved this work by their various communications. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 3Being lass-lorn;] Lass-lorn is forsaken of his mistress. So, Spenser: “Who after that he had fair Una lorn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 292 4&lblank; thy pole-clipt vineyard;] To clip is to twine round or embrace. The poles are clipped or embraced by the vines. Vineyard is here used as a trisyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 293 5My bosky acres, &c.] Bosky is woody. Bosky acres are fields divided from each other by hedge-rows. Boscus is middle Latin for wood. Bosquet, Fr. So, Milton: “And every bosky bourn from side to side.” Again, in K. Edward I. 1599: “Hale him from hence, and in this bosky wood “Bury his corps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 294 6&lblank; to this short-grass'd green?] The old copy reads short-gras'd green. “Short-graz'd green” means “grazed so as to be short.” The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 295 7Highest queen of state, Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait.] Mr. Whalley thinks this passage a remarkable instance of Shakspeare's knowledge of ancient poetic story; and that the hint was furnished by the Divum incedo Regina of Virgil. John Taylor, the water-poet, declares, that he never learned his Accidence, and that Latin and French were to him Heathen Greek; yet, by the help of Mr. Whalley's argument, I will prove him a learned man, in spite of every thing he may say to the contrary: for thus he makes a gallant address his lady; “Most inestimable magazine of beauty! in whom the port and majesty of Juno, the wisdom of Jove's brain-bred girle, and the feature of Cytherea, have their domestical habitation.” Farmer. So, in The Arraignement of Paris, 1584: “First statelie Juno, with her porte and grace.” Chapman also, in his version of the second Iliad, speaking of Juno, calls her— “&lblank; the goddesse of estate.” Steevens. “Highest queen of state.” Sir John Harrington has likewise used this word as one syllable: “Thus said the high'st, and then there did ensue.” Orlando Fur. b. xxix. st. 32. Malone.

Note return to page 296 8Earth's increase, and foison plenty, &c.] All the editions, that I have ever seen, concur in placing this whole sonnet to Juno; but very absurdly, in my opinion. I believe every accurate reader, who is acquainted with poetical history, and the distinct offices of these two goddesses, and who then seriously reads over our author's lines, will agree with me, that Ceres's name ought to have been placed where I have now prefixed it. Theobald. And is not in the old copy. It was added by the editor of the second folio. Earth's increase, is the produce of the earth. The expression is scriptural: “Then shall the earth bring forth her increase, and God, even our God, shall give us his blessing.” Psalm lxvii. Malone. This is one among a multitude of emendations which Mr. Malone acknowledges to have been introduced by the editor of the second folio; and yet, in contradiction to himself in his Prolegomena, he depreciates the second edition, as of no importance or value. Fenton. I have adopted several corrections from the second folio, as I would from Pope or Hanmer where I thought them obviously right, without acknowledging its authority, for which Mr. Steevens has contended. Malone. I have endeavoured to show in The Essay on Shakspeare's Versification, that this and similar instances were unnecessary, and that a verse consisting of six syllables only was common among Shakspeare and his contemporaries. Boswell.

Note return to page 297 9&lblank; foison plenty;] i. e. plenty to the utmost abundance; foison signifying plenty. See p. 66. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 1Harmonious charmingly:] Mr. Edwards would read: “Harmonious charming lay.” For though (says he) the benediction is sung by two goddesses, it is yet but one lay or hymn. I believe, however, this passage appears as it was written by the poet, who, for the sake of the verse, made the words change places. We might read (transferring the last syllable of the second word to the end of the first) “Harmoniously charming.” Ferdinand has already praised this aerial Masque as an object of sight; and may not improperly or inelegantly subjoin, that the charm of sound was added to that of visible grandeur. Both Juno and Ceres are supposed to sing their parts. Steevens. A similar inversion occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “But miserable most to live unlov'd. Malone. So, in Shirley's Young Admiral: “&lblank; Honour payes “Double where Kings neglect, and he is valiant “Truely that dares forget to be rewarded.” In The Wild Goose Chace by Beaumont and Fletcher, we have a still greater licence used: “Be not too glorious foolish:” i. e. too foolishly vainglorious. Boswell.

Note return to page 299 2&lblank; a wonder'd father,] i. e. a father able to perform or produce such wonders. Steevens.

Note return to page 300 3&lblank; wand'ring brooks,] The modern editors read—winding brooks. The old copy—windring. I suppose we should read— wand'ring, as it is here printed. Steevens.

Note return to page 301 4Leave your crisp channels,] Crisp, i. e. curling, winding, Lat. crispus. So, Henry IV. Part I. Act I. Sc. IV. Hotspur, speaking of the river Severn: “And hid his crisped head in the hollow bank.” Crisp, however, may allude to the little wave or curl (as it is commonly called) that the gentlest wind occasions on the surface of waters. Steevens.

Note return to page 302 5This is most strange:] I have introduced the word—most, on account of the metre, which otherwise is defective.—In the first line of Prospero's next speech there is likewise an omission, but I have not ventured to supply it. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 6And, like the baseless fabrick of this vision, &c.] The exact period at which this play was produced is unknown: it was not, however, published before 1623. In the year 1603, the Tragedy of Darius, by Lord Sterline, made its appearance, and there I find the following passage: “Let greatness of her glassy scepters vaunt,   “Not scepters, no, but reeds, soon bruis'd, soon broken; “And let this worldly pomp our wits enchant,   “All fades, and scarcely leaves behind a token. “Those golden palaces, those gorgeous halls,   “With furniture superfluously fair, “Those stately courts, those sky-encount'ring walls,   “Evanish all like vapours in the air.” Lord Sterline's play must have been written before the death of Queen Elizabeth, (which happened on the 24th of March, 1603,) as it is dedicated to James VI. King of Scots. Whoever should seek for this passage (as here quoted from the 4to. 1603) in the folio edition, 1637, will be disappointed, as Lord Sterline made considerable changes in all his plays, after their first publication. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 7&lblank; all which it inherit,] i. e. all who possess, who dwell upon it. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “This, or else nothing, will inherit her.” Malone.

Note return to page 305 8And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,] Faded means here—having vanished; from the Latin, vado. So, in Hamlet: “It faded on the crowing of the cock.” To feel the justice of this comparison, and the propriety of the epithet, the nature of these exhibitions should be remembered. The ancient English pageants were shows exhibited on the reception of a prince, or any other solemnity of a similar kind. They were presented on occasional stages erected in the streets. Originally they appear to have been nothing more than dumb shows; but before the time of our author, they had been enlivened by the introduction of speaking personages, who were characteristically habited. The speeches were sometimes in verse; and as the procession moved forward, the speakers, who constantly bore some allusion to the ceremony, either conversed together in the form of a dialogue, or addressed the noble person whose presence occasioned the celebrity. On these allegorical spectacles very costly ornaments were bestowed. See Fabian, ii. 382. Warton's Hist. of Poet. ii. 199, 202. The well-known lines before us may receive some illustration from Stowe's account of the pageants exhibited in the year 1604, (not many years before this play was written,) on King James, his Queen, &c. passing triumphantly from the Tower to Westminster; on which occasion seven gates or arches were erected in different places through which the procession passed.—Over the first gate “was represented the true likeness of all the notable houses, Towers and steeples, within the citie of London.”—“The sixt arche or gate of triumph was erected above the Conduit in Fleet e-Streete, whereon the Globe of the world was seen to move, &c. At Temple-bar a seaventh arche or gait was erected, the fore-front whereon was proportioned in every respect like a Temple, being dedicated to Janus, &c. The citie of Westminster, and dutchy of Lancaster, at the Strand had erected the invention of a Rainbow, the moone, sunne, and starres, advanced between two Pyramides,” &c. Annals, p. 1429, edit. 1605. See also his Survey of London, 1618, p. 802: “&lblank; some of them, like Midsummer pageants, with towers, turrets,” &c. Perhaps our poet also remembered Spenser's Ruines of Time, 1591: “High towers, fair temples, goodly theatres, “Strong walls, rich porches, princelie pallaces, “Large streets, brave houses, sacred sepulchres, “Sure gates, sweet gardens, stately galleries, “Wrought with faire pillours, and fine imageries, “All these, (O pitie!) now are turn'd to dust, “And overgrown with black oblivions rust.” Malone.

Note return to page 306 9Leave not a rack behind:] “The winds, (says Lord Bacon) which move the clouds above, which we call the rack, and are not perceived below, pass without noise.” I should explain the word rack, somewhat differently, by calling it, ‘the last fleeting vestige of the highest clouds, scarce perceptible on account of their distance and tenuity.’ What was anciently called the rack, is now termed by sailors—the scud. The word is common to many authors contemporary with Shakspeare. So, in the Faithful Shepherdess, by Fletcher: “&lblank; shall I stray “In the middle air, and stay “The sailing rack.” &lblank; Again, in David and Bethsabe, 1599: “Beating the clouds into their swiftest rack.” Again, in the prologue to the Three Ladies of London, 1584: “We list not ride the rolling rack that dims the chrystal skies.” Again, in Shakspeare's 33d Sonnet: “Anon permits the basest clouds to ride “With ugly rack on his celestial face.” Again, in Chapman's version of the twenty-first Iliad: “&lblank; the cracke “His thunder gives, when out of heaven it tears atwo his racke.” Here the translator adds, in a marginal note. “The racke or motion of the clouds, for the clouds.” Again, in Dryden's version of the tenth Æneid: “&lblank; the doubtful rack of heaven “Stands without motion, and the tide undriven.” Mr. Pennant in his Tour in Scotland observes, there is a fish called a rack-rider, because it appears in winter or bad weather; Rack, in the English of our author's days, signifying the driving of the clouds by tempests. Sir Thomas Hanmer, instead of rack, reads track, which may be countenanced by the following passage in the first scene of Timon of Athens: “But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, “Leaving no tract behind.” Again, in the Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; run quietly, “Leaving no trace of what they were behind them.” Steevens. Rack is generally used for a body of clouds or rather for the course of clouds in motion. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “That which is now a horse, even with a thought, “The rack dislimns.” But no instance has yet been produced where it is used to signify a single small fleeting cloud, in which sense only it can be figuratively applied here. I incline to think that rack is a mis-spelling for wrack, i. e. wreck, which Fletcher likewise has used for a minute broken fragment. See his Wife for a Month, where we find the word mis-spelt as it is in The Tempest: “He will bulge so subtilly and suddenly, “You may snatch him up by parcels, like a sea-rack.” It has been urged, that “objects which have only a visionary and insubstantial existence, can, when the vision is faded, leave nothing real, and consequently no wreck behind them.” But the objection is founded on misapprehension. The words— “Leave not a rack (or wreck) behind,” relate not to “the baseless fabrick of this vision,” but to the final destruction of the world, of which the towers, temples, and palaces, shall (like a vision, or a pageant) be dissolved, and leave no vestige behind. Malone. Yet see Mr. Horne Tooke's observations on this passage, &grE;&grP;&grE;&grA; &grP;&grT;&grE;&grR;&grO;&grE;&grN;&grT;&grA;, vol. ii. p. 388. Boswell.

Note return to page 307 1As dreams are made of,] The old copy reads—on. But this is a mere colloquial vitiation; of, among the vulgar, being still pronounced—on. Steevens. The stanza which immediately precedes the lines quoted by Mr. Steevens from Lord Sterline's Darius, may serve still further to confirm the conjecture that one of these poets imitated the other. Our author was, I believe, the imitator: “And when the eclipse comes of our glory's light,   “Then what avails the adoring of a name? “A meer illusion made to mock the sight;   “Whose best was but the shadow of a dream.” Malone.

Note return to page 308 2Fer. Mir. We wish your peace. Pro. Come with a thought:—I thank you:—Ariel, come.] The old copy reads “&lblank; I thank thee.” But these thanks being in reply to the joint wish of Ferdinand and Miranda, I have substituted you for thee, by the advice of Mr. Ritson. Steevens.

Note return to page 309 3Thy thoughts I cleave to:] To cleave to, is to unite with closely. So, in Macbeth: “Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould.” Again: “If you shall cleave to my consent.” Steevens.

Note return to page 310 4&lblank; to meet with Caliban.] To meet with is to counteract; to play stratagem against stratagem.—“The parson knows the temper of every one in his house, and accordingly either meets with their vices, or advances their virtues.” Herbert's Country Parson. Johnson. So, in Cynthia's Revenge, 1613: “&lblank; You may meet “With her abusive malice, and exempt “Yourself from the suspicion of revenge.” Steevens.

Note return to page 311 5Advanc'd their eyelids, &c.] Thus Drayton, in his Nymphidia, or Court of Fairie: “But once the circle got within, “The charms to work do straight begin, “And he was caught as in a gin:   “For as he thus was busy, “A pain he in his head-piece feels, “Against a stubbed tree he reels, “And up went poor Hobgoblin's heels:   “Alas, his brain was dizzy. “At length upon his feet he gets, “Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets; “And as again he forward sets,   “And through the bushes scrambles, “A stump doth hit him in his pace, “Down comes poor Hob upon his face, “And lamentably tore his case   “Among the briers and brambles.” Johnson.

Note return to page 312 6As they smelt musick;] As is here, as in many other places, used for as if. So in Cymbeline: “&lblank; he spoke of her “As Dion had hot dreams, and she,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 313 7&lblank; pricking goss,] I know not how Shakspeare distinguished goss from furze; for what he calls furze is called goss or gorse in the midland counties. This word is used in the first chorus to Kyd's Cornelia, 1594: “With worthless gorse that, yearly, fruitless dies.” Steevens. By the latter, Shakspeare means the low sort of gorse that only grows upon wet ground, and which is well described by the name of whins in Markham's Farewell to Husbandry. It has prickles like those of a rose-tree or a gooseberry. Furze and whins occur together in Dr. Farmer's quotation from Holinshed. Tollett.

Note return to page 314 8I' the filthy mantled pool &lblank;] Perhaps we should read— filth-ymantled.—A similar idea occurs in King Lear: “Drinks the green mantle of the standing pool.” Steevens.

Note return to page 315 9For stall to catch these thieves.] Stale is a word in fowling, and is used to mean a bait or decoy to catch birds. So, in A Looking-glass for London and England, 1617: “Hence tools of wrath, stales of temptation!” Again, in Green's Mamilia, 1595: “&lblank; that she might not strike at the stale, lest she were canvassed in the nets.”

Note return to page 316 1Nurture can never stick;] Nurture is education. A little volume entitled The Boke of Nurture, or Schoole of good Maners, &c. was published in the reign of King Edward VI. 4to. bl. l. Steevens.

Note return to page 317 2&lblank; all, all lost,] The first of these words was probably introduced by the carelessness of the transcriber or compositor. We might safely read—are all lost. Malone.

Note return to page 318 2And as with age, his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers:] Shakspeare, when he wrote this description, perhaps recollected what his patron's most intimate friend the great Lord Essex, in an hour of discontent, said of Queen Elizabeth:—“that she grew old and canker'd, and that her mind was become as crooked as her carcase:”—a speech, which, according to Sir Walter Raleigh, cost him his head, and which we may therefore suppose was at that time much talked of. This play being written in the time of King James, these obnoxious words might be safely repeated. Malone. I trust that Shakspeare did not aim a reproach at his queen and patroness in her grave. Boswell.

Note return to page 319 3&lblank; the blind mole may not Hear a foot fall:] This quality of hearing, which the mole is supposed to possess in so high a degree, is mentioned in Euphues, 4to. 1581, p. 64: “Doth not the lion for strength, the turtle for love, the ant for labour, excel man? Doth not the eagle see clearer, the vulture smell better, the moale hear lightlyer?” Reed.

Note return to page 320 4&lblank; has done little better than played the Jack with us.] i. e. He has played Jack with a lantern; has led us about like an ignis fatuus, by which travellers are decoyed into the mire. Johnson.

Note return to page 321 5Trin. O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look, what a wardrobe is here for thee!] The humour of these lines consists in their being an allusion to an old celebrated ballad, which begins thus: “King Stephen was a worthy peer”—and celebrates that king's parsimony with regard to his wardrobe.—There are two stanzas of this ballad in Othello. Warburton. The old ballad is printed at large in The Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. Percy.

Note return to page 322 6&lblank; we know what belongs to a frippery:] A frippery was a shop where old clothes were sold. Fripperie, Fr. Beaumont and Fletcher use the word in this sense, in Wit Without Money, Act II.: “As if I were a running frippery.” So, in Monsieur d' Olive, a comedy, by Chapman, 1606: “Passing yesterday by the frippery, I spied two of them hanging out at a stall, with a gambrell thrust from shoulder to shoulder.” The person who kept one of these shops was called a fripper. Strype, in the Life of Stowe, says, that these frippers lived in Birchin Lane and Cornhill. Steevens.

Note return to page 323 7&lblank; Let it alone,] The old copy reads—Let's alone. Johnson. For the emendation in the text the present editor is answerable. Caliban had used the same expression before. Mr. Theobald reads—“Let's along.” Malone. Hanmer also reads, Let it alone. Boswell. “Let's alone,” may mean—‘Let you and I only go to commit the murder, leaving Trinculo, who is so solicitous about the trash of dress, behind us.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 324 8&lblank; under the line:] “An allusion to what often happens to people who pass the line. The violent fevers, which they contract in that hot climate, make them lose their hair.” Edwards' MSS. Perhaps the allusion is to a more indelicate disease than any peculiar to the equinoxial. So, in The Noble Soldier, 1632: “'Tis hot going under the line there.” Again, in Lady Alimony, 1659: “&lblank; Look to the clime “Where you inhabit; that's the torrid zone: “Yea, there goes the hair away.” Shakspeare seems to design an equivoque between the equinoxial and the girdle of a woman. It may be necessary, however, to observe, as a further elucidation of this miserable jest, that the lines on which clothes are hung, are usually made of twisted horse-hair. Steevens.

Note return to page 325 9&lblank; put some lime, &c.] That is, birdlime. Johnson. So, in Green's Disputation between a He and She Conycatcher, 1592: “&lblank; mine eyes are stauls, and my hands lime twigs.” Steevens.

Note return to page 326 1&lblank; to barnacles, or to apes &lblank;] Skinner says barnacle is Anser Scoticus. The barnacle is a kind of shell-fish growing on the bottoms of ships, and which was anciently supposed, when broken off, to become one of these geese. Hall, in his Virgidemiarum, lib. iv. sat. 2, seems to favour this supposition: “The Scottish barnacle, if I might choose, “That of a worme doth waxe a winged goose,” &c. So likewise Marston, in his Malecontent, 1604: “&lblank; like your Scotch barnacle, now a block, “Instantly a worm, and presently a great goose.” “There are (says Gerard, in his Herbal, edit. 1597, page 1391) in the north parts of Scotland certaine trees, whereon do grow shell-fishes, &c. &c. which, falling into the water, do become fowls, whom we call barnakles; in the north of England, brant geese; and in Lancashire, tree geese,” &c. This vulgar error deserves no serious confutation. Commend me, however, to Holinshed, (vol. i. p. 38,) who declares himself to have seen the feathers of these barnacles “hang out of the shell at least two inches.” And in the 27th song of Drayton's Polyolbion, the same account of their generation is given. Collins. Old Gerard, in his History of Plants, has a long account of these barnacles: “Many of these shells I brought with me to London, which, after I had opened, I found in them living things without form or shape; in others, which were nearer come to ripenesse, I found living things that were very naked, in shape like a bird: in others, the birds covered with a soft downe, the shell half open, and the birds ready to fall out, which no doubt were the fowles called barnacles. I dare not absolutely avouch every circumstance of the first part of this history, concerning the tree that beareth those buds aforesaid, but will leave it to a future consideration, howbeit that which I have seene with mine eies, and handled with mine hands, I dare confidently avouch and boldly put down for verity.” Johnston's ed. of Gerard, p. 1588. Phillipps. “Cal. And all be turn'd to barnacles, or apes.” Mr. Collins's note, it is presumed, will not be thought worth retaining in any future edition. His account of the barnacle is extremely confused and imperfect. He makes Gerarde responsible for an opinion not his own; he substitutes the name of Holinshed for that of Harrison, whose statement is not so ridiculous as Mr. Collins would make it, and who might certainly have seen the feathers of the barnacles hanging out of the shells, as the fish barnacle or Lepas anatifera is undoubtedly furnished with a feathered beard. The real absurdity was the credulity of Gerarde and Harrison in supposing that the barnacle goose was really produced from the shell of the fish. Dr. Bullein not only believed this himself, but bestows the epithets, ignorant and incredulous on those who did not; and in the same breath he maintains that christal is nothing more than ice. See his Bulwarke of Defence, &c. 1562. Folio, fo. 12. Caliban's barnacle is the clakis or tree-goose. Every kind of information on the subject may be found in the Physica Curiosa of Gaspar Schot the Jesuit, who with great industry has collected from a multitude of authors whatever they had written concerning it. See lib. ix. c. 22. The works of Pennant and Bewick will supply every deficiency with respect to rational knowledge. Douce.

Note return to page 327 2With foreheads villainous low.] Low foreheads were anciently reckoned among deformities. So, in the old bl. l. ballad, entitled A Peerlesse Paragon: “Her beetle brows all men admire, “Her forehead wondrous low.” Again, (the quotation is Mr. Malone's,) in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; And her forehead “As low as she would wish it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 328 3A noise of hunters heard.] Shakspeare might have had in view “Arthur's Chace, which many believe to be in France, and think that it is a kennel of black dogs followed by unknown huntsmen with an exceeding great sound of horns, as if it was a very hunting of some wild beast.” See a Treatise of Spectres, translated from the French of Peter de Loier, and published in quarto, 1605. Grey. “Hecate, (says the same writer, ibid.) as the Greeks affirmed, did use to send dogges unto men, to feare and terrifie them.” Malone. See Gervase of Tilbery, who wrote in 1211, for an account of the Familia Arturi. Ot. Imper. dec. ii. c. 12. Steevens. See Tyrwhitt's Chaucer; note on verse 6441. Boswell.

Note return to page 329 4&lblank; and time Goes upright with his carriage.] Alluding to one carrying a burthen. This critical period of my life proceeds as I could wish. Time brings forward all the expected events, without faultering under his burthen. Steevens.

Note return to page 330 5&lblank; the king and his?] The old copy reads—“the king and his followers?” But the word followers is evidently an interpolation, (or gloss which had crept into the text,) and spoils the metre without help to the sense. In King Lear we have the phraseology I have ventured to recommend: “To thee and thine, hereditary ever,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 331 6&lblank; till your release.] i. e. till you release them. Malone.

Note return to page 332 7&lblank; a touch, a feeling &lblank;] A touch is a sensation. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; a touch more rare “Subdues all pangs, all fears.” So, in the 141st sonnet of Shakspeare: “Nor tender feeling to base touches prone.” Again, in The Civil Wars of Daniel, b. i.: “I know not how their death gives such a touch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 8&lblank; that relish all as sharply, Passion as they,] I feel every thing with the same quick sensibility, and am moved by the same passions as they are. A similar thought occurs in King Richard II.: “Taste grief, need friends, like you,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 334 9Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;] This speech Dr. Warburton rightly observes to be borrowed from Medea's in Ovid: and, “it proves,” says Mr. Holt, “beyond contradiction, that Shakspeare was perfectly acquainted with the sentiments of the ancients on the subject of inchantments.” The original lines are these: Auræque, et venti, montesque, amnesque, lacusque, Diique omnes nemorum, diique omnes noctis, adeste. The translation of which, by Golding, is by no means literal, and Shakspeare hath closely followed it. Farmer. Whoever will take the trouble of comparing this whole passage with Medea's speech, as translated by Golding, will see evidently that Shakspeare copied the translation, and not the original. The particular expressions that seem to have made an impression on his mind, are printed in Italicks: “Ye ayres and windes, ye elves of hills, of brookes, of woodes alone, “Of standing lakes, and of the night, approche ye everych one. “Through help of whom (the crooked bankes much wondering at the thing) “I have compelled streames to run clear backward to their spring. “By charms I make the calm sea rough, and make the rough seas playne, “And cover all the skie with clouds, and chase them thence again. “By charmes I raise and lay the windes, and burst the viper's jaw, “And from the bowels of the earth both stones and trees do draw. “Whole woodes and forrests I remove, I make the mountains shake, “And even the earth itself to groan and fearfully to quake. “I call up dead men from their graves, and thee, O lightsome moone, “I darken oft, though beaten brass abate thy peril soone. “Our sorcerie dimmes the morning faire, and darks the sun at noone, “The flaming breath of fierie bulles ye quenched for my sake, “And caused their unwieldy neckes the bended yoke to take. “Among the earth-bred brothers you a mortal warre did set, “And brought asleep the dragon fell, whose eyes were never shet.” Malone. “Ye elves of hills,” &c. Fairies and elves are frequently, in the poets, mentioned together, without any distinction of character that I can recollect. Keysler says, that alp and alf, which is elf with the Suedes and English, equally signified a mountain, or a dæmon of the mountains. This seems to have been its original meaning; but Somner's Dict. mentions elves or fairies of the mountains, of the woods, of the sea and fountains, without any distinction between elves and fairies. Tollet. It would be an injustice to our great poet, if the reader were not to take notice that Ovid has not supplied him with any thing resembling the exquisite fairy imagery with which he has enriched this speech. Boswell.

Note return to page 335 1&lblank; with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune,] So Milton, in his Masque: “Whilst from off the waters fleet, “Thus I set my printless feet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 336 2(Weak masters though ye be,)] The meaning of this passage may be, “Though you are but inferior masters of these supernatural powers—though you possess them but in a low degree.” Spenser uses the same kind of expression in The Fairy Queen, b. iii. cant. 8, st. 4: “Where she (the witch) was wont her sprights to entertain, “The masters of her art: there was she fain “To call them all in order to her aid.” Steevens. “&lblank; by whose aid, “(Weak masters though ye be,)” That is; ye are powerful auxiliaries, but weak if left to yourselves;—your employment is then to make green ringlets, and midnight mushrooms, and to play the idle pranks mentioned by Ariel in his next song;—yet by your aid I have been enabled to invert the course of nature. We say proverbially, “Fire is a good servant, but a bad master.” Blackstone.

Note return to page 337 3&lblank; But this rough magick, &c.] This speech of Prospero sets out with a long and distinct invocation to the various ministers of his art; yet to what purpose they were invoked does not very distinctly appear. Had our author written—“All this,” &c. instead of—“But this,” &c. the conclusion of the address would have been more pertinent to its beginning. Steevens.

Note return to page 338 4&lblank; boil'd within thy skull!] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,” &c. Steevens. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty, hunt this weather?” Malone.

Note return to page 339 5&lblank; fellowly drops.] I would read, fellow drops. The additional syllable only injures the metre, without enforcing the sense. Fellowly, however, is an adjective used by Tusser. Steevens.

Note return to page 340 6&lblank; the ignorant fumes &lblank;] i. e. the fumes of ignorance. Heath.

Note return to page 341 7Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian.—Flesh and blood,] Thus the old copy: Theobald points the passage in a different manner, and perhaps rightly: “Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian, flesh and blood.” Steevens.

Note return to page 342 8&lblank; that entertain'd ambition,] Old copy—entertain. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 343 9&lblank; remorse and nature;] Remorse is by our author and the contemporary writers generally used for pity, or tenderness of heart. Nature is natural affection. Malone.

Note return to page 344 2In a cowslip's bell I lie:] So, in Drayton's Nymphidia: “At midnight, the appointed hour; “And for the queen a fitting bower, “Quoth he, is that fair cowslip flower “On Hipcut hill that bloweth.” The date of this poem not being ascertained, we know not whether our author was indebted to it, or was himself copied by Drayton. I believe, the latter was the imitator. Nymphidia was not written, I imagine, till after the English Don Quixote had appeared in 1612. It was not printed till 1627. Malone.

Note return to page 345 3&lblank; When owls do cry,] i. e. at night. As this passage is now printed, Ariel says that he reposes in a cowslip's bell during the night. Perhaps, however, [as Mr. Capell has suggested], a full point ought to be placed after the word couch, and a comma at the end of the line. If the passage should be thus regulated, Ariel will then take his departure by night, the proper season for the bat to set out upon the expedition. Malone. So, in Drayton's Owle, 4to. 1604: “&lblank; such thieves as hate the light, “The black-ey'd bat, the watchman of the night.” That the crying of owls was introduced as descriptive of night, and not to mark the season of the year, is proved by Shakspeare's frequent mention of the same bird in various places, in all of which the owl is introduced as an attendant upon night. So, in Macbeth: “It was the owl that cry'd, the fatal bellman, “That giv'st the stern'st good-night.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Deep night, dread night, the silent of the night, “When scritch-owls cry &lblank;.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “The owl, night's herald, shrieks; 'tis very late,” &c. Again, in Cymbeline: “The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, less welcome.” Malone. The pointing of Ariel's song, its third line in particular, is in the last degree bad, and that in every edition; couch has no stop at all in any of them, and cry a full one: what results from this pointing, let them examine that like; the editor will think his duty discharged in showing that under his punctuation the song recovers its beauties, and has a perfect consistency. All the thoughts of it turn upon Ariel's approaching happiness, in that he should now be able to pursue the summer, and live upon the more delicate productions of it—pleasures he had long been deprived of by his confinement in this island; first by Sycorax, and now by Prospero; and to paint his eager relish of them, he is made to express himself as if in actual possession: “Where the bee sucks, there suck I; “In a cowslip's bell I lie; “There I couch:” which couch is not a tautology, but an enforcing and heightening of the image, to make us conceive more strongly the extreme minuteness of this being, which can thus nestle itself whole in the cup of such a small flower. Capell.

Note return to page 346 4After summer, merrily:] This is the reading of all the editions. Yet Mr. Theobald has substituted sun-set, because Ariel talks of riding on the bat in this expedition. An idle fancy. That circumstance is given only to design the time of night in which fairies travel. One would think the consideration of the circumstances should have set him right. Ariel was a spirit of great delicacy, bound by the charms of Prospero to a constant attendance on his occasions. So that he was confined to the island winter and summer. But the roughness of winter is represented by Shakspeare as disagreeable to fairies, and such like delicate spirits, who, on this account, constantly follow summer. Was not this then the most agreeable circumstance of Ariel's new-recovered liberty, that he could now avoid winter, and follow summer quite round the globe? But to put the matter quite out of question, let us consider the meaning of this line: “There I couch when owls do cry.” Where? in the cowslip's bell, and where the bee sucks, he tells us: this must needs be in summer. When? when owls cry, and this is in winter: “When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, “Then nightly sings the staring owl.” The Song of Winter, in Love's Labour's Lost. The consequence is, that Ariel “flies after summer.” Yet the Oxford editor has adopted this judicious emendation of Mr. Theobald. Warburton. Ariel does not appear to have been confined to the island summer and winter, as he was sometimes sent on so long an errand as to the Bermoothes. When he says, “On the bat's back I do fly,” &c. he speaks of his present situation only; nor triumphs in the idea of his future liberty, till the last couplet: “Merrily, merrily,” &c. The bat is no bird of passage, and the expression is therefore probably used to signify, not that he pursues summer, but that, after summer is past, he rides upon the warm down of a bat's back, which suits not improperly with the delicacy of his airy being. After summer is a phrase in King Henry VI. Part II. Act II. Sc. IV. Shakspeare, who, in his Midsummer Night's Dream, has placed the light of a glow-worm in its eyes, might, through the same ignorance of natural history, have supposed the bat to be a bird of passage. Owls cry not only in winter. It is well known that they are to the full as clamorous in summer; and as a proof of it, Titania, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, the time of which is supposed to be May, commands her fairies to— “&lblank; keep back “The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots.” Steevens. Our author is seldom solicitous that every part of his imagery should correspond. I therefore think, that though the bat is “no bird of passage,” Shakspeare probably meant to express what Dr. Warburton supposes. A short account, however, of this winged animal may perhaps prove the best illustration of the passage before us: “The bat (says Dr. Goldsmith, in his entertaining and instructive Natural History,) makes its appearance in summer, and begins its flight in the dusk of the evening. It appears only in the most pleasant evenings; at other times it continues in its retreat; the chink of a ruined building, or the hollow of a tree. Thus the little animal even in summer sleeps the greatest part of his time, never venturing out by day-light, nor in rainy weather. But its short life is still more abridged by continuing in a torpid state during the winter. At the approach of the cold season, the bat prepares for its state of lifeless inactivity, and seems rather to choose a place where it may continue safe from interruption, than where it may be warmly and commodiously lodged.” When Shakspeare had determined to send Ariel in pursuit of summer, wherever it could be found, as most congenial to such an airy being, is it then surprising that he should have made the bat, rather than “the wind, his post-horse;” an animal thus delighting in that season, and reduced by winter to a state of lifeless inactivity? Malone.

Note return to page 347 5&lblank; shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.] This thought is not thrown out at random. It composed a part of the magical system of these days. In Tasso's Godfrey of Bulloigne by Fairfax, b. iv. st. 18: “The goblins, fairies, feends, and furies mad, “Ranged in flowrie dales, and mountaines hore, “And under every trembling leafe they sit.” The idea was probably first suggested by the description of the venerable elm which Virgil planted at the entrance of the infernal shades. Æn. VI. v. 282: Ulmus opaca, ingens; quam sedem somnia vulgò Vana tenêre ferunt, foliisque sub omnibus hærent. Holt White.

Note return to page 348 6I drink the air &lblank;] “To drink the air”—is an expression of swiftness of the same kind as ‘to devour the way’ in K. Henry IV. Johnson. So, in Venus and Adonis: “His nostrils drink the air.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; and through him “Drink the free air.” Malone.

Note return to page 349 7Whe'r thou beest he, or no,] Whe'r for whether, is an abbreviation frequently used both by Shakspeare and Jonson. So, in Julius Cæsar: “See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors: “Good sir, whe'r you'll answer me, or not.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 350 8Thy dukedom I resign;] The duchy of Milan being through the treachery of Antonio made feudatory to the crown of Naples, Alonso promises to resign his claim of sovereignty for the future. Steevens.

Note return to page 351 9You do yet taste Some subtilties o' the isle,] This is a phrase adopted from ancient cookery and confectionary. When a dish was so contrived as to appear unlike what it really was, they called it a subtilty. Dragons, castles, trees, &c. made out of sugar, had the like denomination. See Mr. Pegge's Glossary to the Form of Cury, &c. Article Sotiltees. Froissard complains much of this practice, which often led him into mistakes at dinner. Describing one of the feasts of his time, he says there was “grant planté de mestz si etranges et si desguisez qu'on ne les pouvait deviser;” and L'Etoile speaking of a similar entertainment in 1597, adds “Tous les poissons estoient fort dextrement desguisez en viande de chair, qui estoient monstres marins pour la pluspart, qu'on avait fait venir exprès de tous les costez.” Steevens.

Note return to page 352 1&lblank; who three hours since &lblank;] The unity of time is most rigidly observed in this piece. The fable scarcely takes up a greater number of hours than are employed in the representation: and from the very particular care which our author takes to point out this circumstance in so many other passages, as well as here, it should seem as if it were not accidental, but purposely designed to shew the admirers of Ben Jonson's art, and the cavillers of the time, that he too could write a play within all the strictest laws of regularity, when he chose to load himself with the critick's fetters. The Boatswain marks the progress of the day again—which but three glasses since, &c. and at the beginning of this act the duration of the time employed on the stage is particularly ascertained; and it refers to a passage in the first act, of the same tendency. The storm was raised at least two glasses after mid day, and Ariel was promised that the work should cease at the sixth hour. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 2I am woe for't, sir.] i. e. I am sorry for it. To be woe, is often used by old writers to signify, to be sorry. So, in the play of The Four P's, 1569: “But be ye sure I would be woe “That you should chance to begyle me so.” Malone.

Note return to page 354 3As great to me, as late;] My loss is as great as yours, and has as lately happened to me. Johnson.

Note return to page 355 4&lblank; portable &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; these are portable “With other graces weigh'd.” The old copy unmetrically reads—supportable. Steevens.

Note return to page 356 5&lblank; their words Are natural breath:] An anonymous correspondent thinks that their is a corruption, and that we should read—these words. His conjecture appears not improbable. The lords had no doubt concerning themselves. Their doubts related only to Prospero, whom they at first apprehended to be some “inchanted trifle to abuse them.” They doubt, says he, whether what they see and hear is a mere illusion; whether the person they behold is a living mortal, whether the words they hear are spoken by a human creature. Malone.

Note return to page 357 6&lblank; playing at chess.] Shakspeare might not have ventured to engage his hero and heroine at this game, had he not found Huon de Bordeaux and his Princess employed in the same manner. See the romance of Huon, &c. chapter 53, edit. 1601: “How King Ivoryn caused his daughter to play at the chesse with Huon,” &c. Steevens. I cannot see why Shakspeare should have gone to Huon de Bordeaux for a practice which was probably common in his day, and certainly is so in ours. Boswell.

Note return to page 358 7Yes, for a score of kingdoms, &c.] I take the sense to be only this: ‘Ferdinand would not, he says, play her false for the world: yes, answers she, I would allow you to do it for something less than the world, for twenty kingdoms, and I wish you well enough to allow you, after a little wrangle, that your play was fair.’ So, likewise, Dr. Grey. Johnson. I would recommend another punctuation, and then the sense would be as follows: “Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, “And I would call it fair play;” because such a contest would be worthy of you. “'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds,” &lblank; says Alcibiades, in Timon of Athens. Again, in Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen: “&lblank; They would show bravely, “Fighting about the titles of two kingdoms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 359 8&lblank; our remembrances &lblank;] By the mistake of the transcriber the word with being placed at the end of this line, Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors, for the sake of the metre, read—remembrance. The regulation now made renders change unnecessary. We have the same phraseology in Coriolanus: “One thus descended, &lblank; “To be set high in place, we did commend, “To your remembrances.” Malone. It should be recollected that a redundant syllable at the commencement of a line was common in the poetry of our author's time. Boswell.

Note return to page 360 9When no man was his own.] For when, perhaps should be read—where. Johnson. When is certainly right; i. e. at a time when no one was in his senses. Shakspeare could not have written where, [i. e. in the island,] because the mind of Prospero, who lived in it, had not been disordered. It is still said, in colloquial language that a madman is not his own man, i. e. is not master of himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 361 1My tricksy spirit!] Is, I believe, my clever, adroit spirit. Shakspeare uses the same word in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; that for a tricksy word “Defy the matter.” So, in the interlude of The Disobedient Child, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; invent and seek out “To make them go tricksie, gallaunt and cleane.” Steevens. Tricksie also signifies neat, elegantly adorned. See Florio's Dictionary, 1593: “Nimfarsi, to trim, to smug, to trixie, to deck, or spruce himself up as a nymph.” The same writer interprets Pargoletta, “quaint, pretty, nimble, trixie, tender, small.” See also Minsheu's Dict. To trick, to trim. Malone. Trick, of which tricksy was perhaps the diminutive, was an old adjective, which signified good-looking. So, in The most wonderful and pleasant History of Titus and Gisippus, &c. drawn into English metre by Edward Lewicke, 1562: “For good cates then he did not sticke,   “But toke thinges his health to restore, “So that shortely he waxed tricke   “In figure as he was before.” Boswell.

Note return to page 362 2&lblank; dead of sleep.] Thus the old copy. Modern editors —asleep. Mr. Malone would substitute—on; but on (in the present instance) is only a vulgar corruption of—of. We still say, that a person dies of such or such a disorder; and why not that he is dead of sleep? Steevens. “On sleep” was the ancient English phraseology. So, in Gascoigne's Supposes: “&lblank; knock again, I think they be on sleep.” Again, in a song said to have been written by Anna Boleyn: “O death, rock me on slepe.” Again, in Campion's History of Ireland, 1633: “One officer in the house of great men is a tale-teller, who bringeth his lord on sleep with tales vaine and frivolous.” Malone. In these instances adduced by Mr. Malone, on sleep, most certainly means asleep; but they do not militate against my explanation of the phrase—“dead of sleep.” Steevens. They shew that on sleep was an old English phrase, while Mr. Steevens has produced no instance to justify his explanation. Malone.

Note return to page 363 3&lblank; conduct of:] Conduct, for conductor. So, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “Come, gentlemen, I will be your conduct.” Steevens. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Come, bitter conduct; come, unsavoury guide.” Malone. Again, in The Householder's Philosophie, 4to. 1588, p. 1: “I goe before, not to arrogat anie superioritie, but as your guide, because, perhaps you are not well acquainted with the waie. Fortune (quoth I) doth favour mee with too noble a conduct.” Reed. Conduct is yet used in the same sense: the person at Cambridge who reads prayers in King's and in Trinity College Chapels, is still so styled. Henley.

Note return to page 364 4&lblank; with beating on The strangeness, &c.] A similar expression occurs in The Second Part of King Henry VI.: “&lblank; thine eyes and thoughts “Beat on a crown.” Beating may mean hammering, working in the mind, dwelling long upon. So, in the preface to Stanyhurst's translation of Virgil, 1582: “For my part, I purpose not to beat on everye childish tittle that concerneth prosodie.” Again, Miranda, in the second scene of this play, tells her father that the storm is still beating in her mind. Steevens. A kindred expression occurs in Hamlet: “Cudgel thy brains no more about it.” Malone.

Note return to page 365 5(Which to you shall seem probable,)] These words seem, at the first view, to have no use; some lines are perhaps lost with which they were connected. Or we may explain them thus: ‘I will resolve you, by yourself, which method, when you hear the story [of Antonio's and Sebastian's plot], shall seem probable; that is, shall deserve your approbation.’ Johnson. Surely Prospero's meaning is: “I will relate to you the means by which I have been enabled to accomplish these ends; which means, though they now appear strange and improbable, will then appear otherwise.” Anonymous. I will inform you how all these wonderful accidents have happened; which, though they now appear to you strange, will then seem probable. An anonymous writer pointed out the true construction of this passage; but I have not adopted his explanation, which is, I think, incorrect. Malone.

Note return to page 366 6&lblank; Coragio!] This exclamation of encouragement I find in J. Florio's Translation of Montaigne, 1603: “&lblank; You often cried Coragio, and called ça, ça.” Again, in The Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 7Is a plain fish,] That is, plainly, evidently a fish. So, in Fletcher's Scornful Lady, “that visible beast, the butler,” means ‘the butler who is visibly a beast.’ M. Mason. It is not easy to determine the shape which our author designed to bestow on his monster. That he has hands, legs, &c. we gather from the remarks of Trinculo, and other circumstances in the play. How then is he plainly a fish? Perhaps Shakspeare himself had no settled ideas concerning the form of Caliban. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 8&lblank; true:] That is, honest. A true man is, in the language of that time, opposed to a thief. The sense is, ‘Mark what these men wear, and say if they are honest.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 369 9His mother was a witch; and one so strong That could control the moon, &c.] This was the phraseology of the times. After the statute against witches, revenge or ignorance frequently induced people to charge those against whom they harboured resentment, or entertained prejudices, with the crime of witchcraft, which had just then been declared a capital offence. In our ancient reporters are several cases where persons charged in this manner sought redress in the courts of law. And it is remarkable in all of them, to the scandalous imputation of being witches, the term—a strong one, is constantly added. In Michaelmas term, 9 Car. I. the point was settled that no action could be supported on so general a charge, and that the epithet strong did not inforce the other words. In this instance, I believe, the opinion of the people at large was not in unison with the sages in Westminster-Hall. Several of these cases are collected together in I. Viner, 422. Reed. “That could control the moon.” From Medea's speech in Ovid, (as translated by Golding,) our author might have learned that this was one of the pretended powers of witchcraft: “&lblank; and thee, O lightsome moon, “I darken oft, though beaten brass abate thy peril soon.” Malone.

Note return to page 370 1And deal in her command, without her power:] I suppose Prospero means, that Sycorax, with less general power than the moon, could produce the same effects on the sea. Steevens. The objection to this explication (even supposing it illustrated the passage before us) is one that lies to a few of Mr. Steevens's, and to many of Mr. M. Mason's comments, namely, that it deduces a meaning from the words, which by no fair interpretation they will admit: for by what licence of construction can “without her power” signify, “with less general power.” Shakspeare, I conceive, had here in his thoughts vicarious and delegated authorities. He who “deals in the command,” or, in other words, executes the office of another, is termed his lieutenant or vicegerent; and is usually authorized and commissioned to act by his superior. Prospero therefore, I think, means to say, that Sycorax could control the moon, and act as her vicegerent, without being commissioned, authorized, or empowered by her so to do. Our author might have recollected that a letter executed in due form of law, authorizing B. to act for A. is popularly termed a power of attorney. If Sycorax was strong enough as by her art to cause the sea to ebb, “when the next star of heaven meditated to make it flow;” she in this “respect” might be said to control her. Malone.

Note return to page 371 2And Trinculo is reeling ripe: Where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them?] Shakspeare, to be sure, wrote—grand 'lixir, alluding to the grand Elixir of the alchymists, which they pretend would restore youth and confer immortality. This, as they said, being a preparation of gold, they called Aurum potabile; which Shakspeare alluded to in the word gilded; as he does again in Antony and Cleopatra: “How much art thou unlike Mark Antony? “Yet coming from him, that great medicine hath, “With his tinct gilded thee.” But the joke here is to insinuate that, notwithstanding all the boasts of the chemists, sack was the only restorer of youth and bestower of immortality. So, Ben Jonson, in his Every Man out of his Humour:—“Canarie, the very Elixir and spirit of wine.” This seems to have been the cant name for sack, of which the English were, at that time, immoderately fond. Randolph, in his Jealous Lovers, speaking of it, says,—“A pottle of Elixir at the Pegasus, bravely caroused.” So, again, in Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, Act III.: “Old reverend sack, which, for aught that I can read yet, “Was that philosopher's stone the wise king Ptolemeus “Did all his wonders by.” &lblank; The phrase too of being gilded, was a trite one on this occasion. Fletcher, in his Chances:—“Duke. Is she not drunk too? Whore. A little gilded o'er, sir; old sack, old sack, boys!” Warburton. As the alchymist's Elixir was supposed to be a liquor, the old reading may stand, and the allusion holds good without any alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 372 3&lblank; fly-blowing.] This pickle alludes to their plunge into the stinking pool; and pickling preserves meat from fly-blowing. Steevens.

Note return to page 373 4&lblank; but a cramp.] i. e. I am all over a cramp. Prospero had ordered Ariel to shorten up their sinews with aged cramps. “Touch me not” alludes to the soreness occasioned by them. In his next speech Stephano confirms the meaning by a quibble on the word sore. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 5I should have been a sore one then.] The same quibble occurs afterwards in the Second Part of K. Henry VI.: “Mass, 'twill be sore law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet.” Stephano also alludes to the sores about him. Steevens.

Note return to page 375 6This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on.] The old copy, disregarding metre, reads— “This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on.” For the repetition of the conjunction as, &c. I am answerable. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 6&lblank; our dear-belov'd solemnized.] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read “beloved solemniz'd,” but solémnized was the accentuation of the time. So, in Love's Labour's Lost, vol. iv. p. 309: “&lblank; at a marriage feast, “Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir “Of Jaques Falconbridge solémnized.” Boswell.

Note return to page 377 7With the help of your good hands.] By your applause, by clapping hands. Johnson. Noise was supposed to dissolve a spell. So, twice before in this play: “No tongue; all eyes; be silent.” Again: “&lblank; hush! be mute; “Or else our spell is marr'd.” Again, in Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Hear his speech, but say thou nought.” Again, ibid: “Listen, but speak not to't.” Steevens.

Note return to page 378 8And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev'd by prayer;] This alludes to the old stories told of the despair of necromancers in their last moments, and of the efficacy of the prayers of their friends for them. Warburton.

Note return to page 379 9It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is regular; this the author of The Revisal thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our author. But, whatever might be Shakspeare's intention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumental to the production of many characters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly goblin. The operations of magick, the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested. Johnson. Dr. Johnson, in a note on the first scene of this play, has observed upon the authority of a skilful navigator, that the naval dialogue is incorrect. See p. 19, n. 1. I am happy to have it in my power to present the reader with a most satisfactory refutation of this criticism from the pen of a distinguished naval officer, the right honourable Constantine, the second Lord Mulgrave, for which Mr. Malone was indebted to the kindness of Sir George Beaumont. Boswell. The first scene of The Tempest is a very striking instance of the great accuracy of Shakspeare's knowledge in a professional science, the most difficult to attain without the help of experience. He must have acquired it by conversation with some of the most skilful seamen of that time. No books had then been published on the subject. The first publication, in the year 1626, was, “An Accidence or Pathway to Experience, necessary for all young Seamen, or those that are desirous of going to Sea;” by Captain John Smith, some time Governor of Virginia, and Admiral of New England. In his Dedication he says, “I have been persuaded to print this Discourse, being a subject I never see writ before.” His book is very short; there is an example of a ship carried through a variety of situations, with all the words of command expressed; there are several of these of Shakspeare intermixed with many others of more detail. The next book on the subject was the Seaman's Dictionary, composed by Sir Henry Manwaring, and by him presented to the Duke of Buckingham, the then Lord High Admiral. In his Preface he says, “The use of this book is to instruct one whose quality, attendance, or the like, cannot permit him to gain the knowledge of terms, names, words, the parts, qualities, and manner of doing things with ships by long experience, without which hath not any one as yet arrived to the least judgement or knowledge of them. It being so, that very few gentlemen (though they be called seamen) do fully and wholly understand what belongs to their profession, having only some scrabbling terms and names belonging to some parts of a ship &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; whence it is that so many gentlemen go long voyages, and return in a manner as ignorant as when they went out. “To understand the art of navigation, is far easier learnt than to know the pratique of working ships; in respect there are many helps for the first, by many books; but for the other, there was not so much as a means thought of till this to inform any one in it.” I have quoted these authorities to show how difficult it was, at that time, to acquire any knowledge of seamanship. It is a curious circumstance, that Shakspeare should have been so fortunate in his instructor, and so correct in the application of his knowledge. The succession of events is strictly observed in the natural progress of the distress described; the expedients adopted are the most proper that could have been devised for a chance of safety: and it is neither to the want of skill of the seaman or the bad qualities of the ship, but solely to the power of Prospero, that the shipwreck is to be attributed. The words of command are not only strictly proper, but are only such as point the object to be attained, and no superfluous ones of detail. Shakspeare's ship was too well manned to make it necessary to tell the seamen how they were to do it, as well as what they were to do. He has shown a knowledge of the new improvements, as well as the doubtful points of seamanship; one of the latter he has introduced, under the only circumstance in which it was indisputable. The events certainly follow too near one another for the strict time of representation: but perhaps, if the whole length of the play was divided by the time allowed by the critics, the portion allotted to this scene might not be too little for the whole. But he has taken care to mark intervals between the different operations by exits. 1st Position. Fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground. 1st Position. Land discovered under the lee; the wind blowing too fresh to hawl upon a wind with the topsail set.—Yare is an old sea term for briskly, in use at that time. This first command is therefore a notice to be ready to execute any orders quickly. 2d Position. Yare yare, take in the topsail, blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough. 2d Position. The topsail is taken in.— “Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.” The danger in a good sea boat is only from being too near the land: this is introduced here to account for the next order. 3d Position. Down with the top mast* [Subnote: *The striking the top masts was a new invention in Shakspeare's time, which he here very properly introduces. Sir Henry Manwaring says, “It is not yet agreed amongst all seamen whether it is better for a ship to hull with her topmast up or down.” In the Postscript to the Dictionary, he afterwards gives his own opinion: “If you have sea room it is never good to strike the topmast.” Shakspeare has placed his ship in the situation in which it was indisputably right to strike the topmast, when he had not sea room.”] .— Yare, lower, lower, bring her to try with the main course. 3d Position. The gale encreasing, the topmast is struck, to take the weight from aloft, make the ship drive less to leeward, and bear the mainsail under which the ship is laid to. 4th Position. Lay her a hold, a hold: set her two courses, off to sea again, lay her off. 4th Position. The ship, having driven near the shore, the mainsail is hawled up; the ship wore, and the two courses set on the other tack, to endeavour to clear the land that way. 5th Position. We split, we split. 5th Position. The ship not able to weather a point, is driven on shore.

Note return to page 380 We have now finished the miscellaneous plays of Shakspeare, which I have printed in conformity with Mr. Malone's intention, according to the order in which he supposed them to be written. In compliance with the general opinion of those whom I have consulted on the subject, I have ventured to deviate from his plan in the arrangement of those dramas which are founded on English history. Dr. Johnson has observed in the preliminary notes to Henry IV. Part I. that most of them were designed by Shakspeare to be read in regular connection; and I have therefore thought it more for the reader's convenience, not to break the historical chain. Boswell.

Note return to page 381 1&lblank; Salisbury,] Son to King Henry II. by Rosamond Clifford. Steevens.

Note return to page 382 2In my behaviour,] The word behaviour seems here to have a signification that I have never found in any other author. “The king of France,” says the envoy, “thus speaks in my behaviour to the majesty of England;” that is, the King of France speaks in the character which I here assume. I once thought that these two lines, “in my behaviour,” &c. had been uttered by the ambassador, as part of his master's message, and that behaviour had meant the conduct of the King of France towards the King of England; but the ambassador's speech, as continued after the interruption, will not admit this meaning. Johnson. “In my behaviour” means, I think, in the words and action that I am now going to use. So, in the fifth Act of this play, the Bastard says to the French king— “&lblank; Now hear our English king, “For thus his royalty doth speak in me.” Malone.

Note return to page 383 2&lblank; control &lblank;] Opposition, from controller. Johnson. I think it rather means constraint or compulsion. So, in the second Act of King Henry V. when Exeter demands of the King of France the surrender of his crown, and the King answers— “Or else what follows?” Exeter replies: “Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown, “Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it.” The passages are exactly similar. M. Mason.

Note return to page 384 3Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment, &c.] King John's reception of Chatillon not a little resembles that which Andrea meets with from the King of Portugal, in the first part of Jeronimo, &c. 1605: “And. Thou shalt pay tribute, Portugal, with blood.— “Bal. Tribute for tribute then; and foes for foes. “And. &lblank; I bid you sudden wars.” Steevens. Jeronimo was exhibited on the stage before the year 1590. Malone. From the following passage in Barnabie Googe's Cupido conquered, (dedicated with his other poems, in May, 1562, and printed in 1563,) Jeronymo appears to have been written earlier than the earliest of these dates: “Mark hym that showes ye Tragedies,   “Thyne owne famylyar frende, “By whom ye Spaniard's hawty style   “In Englysh verse is pende.” B. Googe had already founded the praises of Phaer and Gascoigne, and is here descanting on the merits of Kyd. It is not impossible (though Ferrex and Porrex was acted in 1561) that Hieronymo might have been the first regular tragedy that appeared in an English dress. It may also be remarked, that B. Googe, in the foregoing lines, seems to speak of a tragedy “in English verse” as a novelty. Steevens. The foregoing note is entirely founded on a mistake. Googe's verses relate, not to Kyd's Tragedy, but to Alexander Neville's translation of the Spaniard Seneca's Tragedy of Œdipus, printed in 1560. A. Neville was Googe's particular friend; in the verses quoted, Mercury is the speaker, and he is addressing Googe the author: “Marke him that thundred out the deeds   “of olde Anchises sun “Whose English verse gyves Maroes grace,   “in all that he hath done; “Whose death the Muses sorrow much   “that lack of aged dayes “Amongst the comen Brytons old   “should hynder Virgils prayse. “Mark him that hath wel framde a glasse   “for states to looke upon, “Whose labour shews the ends of the   “that lyved long agone. “Marke hym yt showes ye tragedyes,   “thyne owne famylyar frende, “By whom ye Spaniard's hawty style   “in Englysh verse is pende.” The first person here alluded to, is Thomas Phayer, who had published a translation of the first seven books of the Æneid, and was prevented by death from finishing the work. The second is Higgins, the author of the Mirrour of Magistrates. The third, Alexander Neville, the familiar friend of Googe, who has a copy of encomiastic verses on Googe prefixed to the very book here quoted. Several of Googe's poems in that work are addressed to Neville, and his answers are subjoined. Malone.

Note return to page 385 4Be thou as lightning &lblank;] The simile does not suit well: the lightning, indeed, appears before the thunder is heard, but the lightning is destructive, and the thunder innocent. Johnson. The allusion may, notwithstanding, be very proper, so far as Shakspeare had applied it, i. e. merely to the swiftness of the lightning, and its preceding and foretelling the thunder. But there is some reason to believe that thunder was not thought to be innocent in our author's time, as we elsewhere learn from himself. See King Lear, Act III. Sc. II. Antony and Cleopatra, Act II. Sc. V. Julius Cæsar, Act I. Sc. III. and still more decisively in Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. II. This old superstition is still prevalent in many parts of the country. Ritson. King John does not allude to the destructive powers either of thunder or lightning; he only means to say, that Chatillon shall appear to the eyes of the French like lightning, which shows that thunder is approaching: and the thunder he alludes to is that of his cannon. Johnson also forgets, that though, philosophically speaking, the destructive power is in the lightning, it has generally, in poetry, been attributed to the thunder So, Lear says: “You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, “Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, “Singe my white head!” M. Mason.

Note return to page 386 5&lblank; sullen presage &lblank;] By the epithet sullen, which cannot be applied to a trumpet, it is plain that our author's imagination had now suggested a new idea. It is as if he had said, be a trumpet to alarm with our invasion, be a bird of ill-omen to croak out the prognostick of your own ruin. Johnson. I do not see why the epithet sullen may not be applied to a trumpet, with as much propriety as to a bell. In our author's King Henry IV. Part II. we find— “Sounds ever after as a sullen bell &lblank;.” Malone. Surely Johnson is right: the epithet sullen may be applied as Milton also has applied it to a bell “swinging slow with sullen roar,” with more propriety than to the sharp sound of a trumpet. Boswell. That here are two ideas is evident; but the second of them has not been luckily explained. “The sullen presage of your own decay,” means, the dismal passing bell, that announces your own approaching dissolution.” Steevens.

Note return to page 387 6&lblank; the manage &lblank;] i. e. conduct, administration. So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; for the rebels, “Expedient manage must be made, my liege.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 7Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, &c.] This stage direction I have taken from the old quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 389 8&lblank; and Philip, his bastard Brother.] Though Shakspeare adopted this character of Philip Faulconbridge from the old play, it is not improper to mention that it is compounded of two distinct personages. Matthew Paris says: “Sub illius temporis curriculo, Falcasius de Brente, Neusteriensis, et spurius ex parte matris, atque Bastardus, qui in vili jumento manticato ad Regis paulo ante clientelam descenderat,” &c. Mathew Paris, in his History of the Monks of St. Albans, calls him Falce, but in his General History, Falcasius de Brente, as above. Holinshed says that “Richard I. had a natural son named Philip, who, in the year following, killed the Viscount De Limoges, to revenge the death of his father.” Steevens. Perhaps the following passage in the continuation of Harding's Chronicle, 1543, fol. 24, b. ad ann. 1472, induced the author of the old play to affix the name of Faulconbridge to King Richard's natural son, who is only mentioned in our histories by the name of Philip: “one Faulconbridge, therle of Kent, his bastarde, a stoute-hearted man.” Who the mother of Philip was is not ascertained. It is said that she was a lady of Poictou, and that King Richard bestowed upon her son a lordship in that province. In expanding the character of the Bastard, Shakspeare seems to have proceeded on the following slight hint in the original play: “Next them, a bastard of the king's deceas'd, “A hardie wild-head, rough, and venturous.” Malone.

Note return to page 390 9But, for the certain knowledge of that truth, I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother; Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.] The resemblance between this sentiment, and that of Telemachus, in the first book of the Odyssey, is apparent. The passage is thus translated by Chapman: “My mother, certaine, says I am his sonne; “I know not; nor was ever simply knowne, “By any child, the sure truth of his sire.” Mr. Pope has observed, that the like sentiment is found in Euripides, Menander, and Aristotle. Shakspeare expresses the same doubt in several of his other plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 391 1But whe'r &lblank;] Whe'r for whether. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me or no.” Steevens.

Note return to page 392 2He hath a trick of Cœur-de-lion's face,] The trick, or tricking, is the same as the tracing of a drawing, meaning that peculiarity of face which may be sufficiently shown by the slightest outline. This expression is used by Heywood and Rowley, in their comedy called Fortune by Land and Sea: “Her face, the trick of her eye, her leer.” The following passage, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour, proves the phrase to be borrowed from delineation: “&lblank; You can blazon the rest, Signior? “O ay, I have it in writing here o'purpose; it cost me two shillings the tricking.” So again in Cynthia's Revels: “&lblank; the parish-buckets with his name at length trick'd upon them.” Steevens. By a trick, in this place, is meant some peculiarity of look or motion. So, Helen, in All's Well that Ends Well, says, speaking of Bertram— “&lblank; 'Twas pretty, though a plague, “To see him every hour; to sit and draw “His arched brows, &c. “In our heart's table; heart too capable “Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.” And Gloster, in King Lear, says— “The trick of that voice I do well remember.” M. Mason. Our author often uses this phrase, and generally in the sense of a peculiar air or cast of countenance or feature. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 393 3With that half-face &lblank;] The old copy—with half that face. But why with half that face? There is no question but the poet wrote, as I have restored the text: “With that half-face &lblank;.” Mr. Pope, perhaps, will be angry with me for discovering an anachronism of our poet's in the next line, where he alludes to a coin not struck till the year 1504, in the reign of King Henry VII. viz. a groat, which, as well as the half groat, bore but half faces impressed. Vide Stowe's Survey of London, p. 47, Holinshed, Camden's remains, &c. The poet sneers at the meagre sharp visage of the elder brother, by comparing him to a silver groat that bore the king's face in profile, so showed but half the face: the groats of all our Kings of England, and indeed all their other coins of silver, one or two only excepted, had a full face crowned; till Henry VII. at the time above mentioned, coined groats and half-groats, as also some shillings with half faces, i. e. faces in profile, as all our coin has now. The first groats of King Henry VIII. were like those of his father; though afterwards he returned to the broad faces again. These groats with the impression in profile, are undoubtedly here alluded to: though as I said, the poet is knowingly guilty of an anachronism in it: for in the time of King John, there were no groats at all; they being first, as far as appears, coined in the reign of King Edward III. Theobald. The same contemptuous allusion occurs in The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “You half-fac'd groat, you thick-cheek'd chitty-face.” Again, in Histriomastix, 1610: “Whilst I behold yon half-fac'd minion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 394 4&lblank; large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay,] This is Homeric, and is thus rendered by Champman in the first Iliad: “&lblank; hills enow, and farre-resounding seas “Powre out their shades and deepes between.” Again, in Ovid, De Tristibus, IV. vii. 21: Innumeri montes inter me teque, viæque Fluminaque et campi, nec freta pauca, jacent. Steevens.

Note return to page 395 5&lblank; took it, on his death,] i. e. entertained it as his fixed opinion, when he was dying. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; this, I take it, “Is the main motive of our preparation.” Steevens.

Note return to page 396 6&lblank; your father might have kept This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world;] The decision of King John coincides with that of Menie, the Indian lawgiver: “Should a bull beget a hundred calves on cows not owned by his master, those calves belong solely to the proprietors of the cows.” See The Hindu Laws, &c. translated by Sir W. Jones, London edit. p. 251. Steevens.

Note return to page 397 7This concludes,] This is a decisive argument. As your father, if he liked him, could not have been forced to resign him, so, not liking him, he is not at liberty to reject him. Johnson.

Note return to page 398 8Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?] Lord of thy presence can signify only master of thyself, and it is a strange expression to signify even that. However, that he might be, without parting with his land. We should read—‘Lord of the presence,’ i. e. prince of the blood. Warburton. “Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?” Lord of thy presence means, ‘master of that dignity and grandeur of appearance that may sufficiently distinguish thee from the vulgar, without the help of fortune.’ Lord of his presence apparently signifies, ‘great in his own person,’ and is used in this sense by King John in one of the following scenes. Johnson.

Note return to page 399 9And I had his, sir Robert his, like him;] This is obscure and ill expressed. The meaning is—‘If I had his shape, sir Robert's—as he has.’ Sir Robert his, for Sir Robert's, is agreeable to the practice of that time, when the 's added to the nominative was believed, I think erroneously, to be a contraction of his. So, Donne: “&lblank; Who now lives to age, “Fit to be called Methusalem, his page?” Johnson. This ought to be printed: “&lblank; sir Robert his, like him.” His, according to a mistaken notion formerly received, being the sign of the genitive case. As the text before stood there was a double genitive. Malone.

Note return to page 400 1&lblank; my face so thin, That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings goes!] In this very obscure passage our poet is anticipating the date of another coin; humorously to rally a thin face, eclipsed, as it were, by a full blown rose. We must observe, to explain this allusion, that Queen Elizabeth was the first, and indeed the only prince, who coined in England three-half-pence, and three-farthing pieces. She coined shillings, six-pences, groats, three-pences, two-pences, three-half-pence, pence, three-farthings, and half-pence; and these pieces all had her head, and were alternately with the rose behind, and without the rose. Theobald. Mr. Theobald has not mentioned a material circumstance relative to these three-farthing pieces, on which the propriety of the allusion in some measure depends; viz. that they were made of silver, and consequently extremely thin. From their thinness they were very liable to be cracked. Hence Ben Jonson, in his Every Man in his Humour, says, “He values me at a cracked three-farthings.” Malone. So, in The Shoemaker's Holiday, &c. 1610: “&lblank; Here's a three-penny piece for thy tidings. “Firk. 'Tis but three-half-pence I think: yes, 'tis three-pence; I smell the rose.” Steevens. The sticking roses about them was then all the court-fashion, as appears from this passage of the Confession Catholique du S. de Sancy, l. ii. c. i.: “Je luy ay appris à mettre des roses par tous les coins:” i. e. “in every place about him,” says the speaker, of one to whom he had taught all the court-fashions. Warburton. The roses stuck in the ear were, I believe, only roses composed of ribbands. In Marston's What You Will is the following passage: “Dupatzo the elder brother, the fool, he that bought the half-penny ribband, wearing it in his ear,” &c. Again, in Every Man out of his Humour: “&lblank; This ribband in my ear, or so.” Again, in Love and Honour, by Sir W. D'Avenant, 1649: “A lock on the left side, so rarely hung “With ribbanding,” &c. I think I remember, among Vandyck's pictures in the Duke of Queensbury's collection at Ambrosbury, to have seen one, with the lock nearest the ear ornamented with ribbands which terminate in roses; and Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, says, “that it was once the fashion to stick real flowers in the ear.” At Kirtling, (vulgarly pronounced—Catlage,) in Cambridgeshire, the magnificent residence of the first Lord North, there is a juvenile portrait, (supposed to be of Queen Elizabeth,) with a red rose sticking in her ear.” Steevens. Marston, in his Satires, 1598, alludes to this fashion as fantastical: “Ribbanded eares, Grenada nether-stocks.” And from the epigrams of Sir John Davies, printed at Middleburgh, about 1598, it appears that some men of gallantry, in our author's time, suffered their ears to be bored, and wore their mistress's silken shoe-strings in them. Malone.

Note return to page 401 2And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,] There is no noun to which were can belong, unless the personal pronoun in the last line but one be understood here. I suspect that our author wrote— “And though his shape were heir to all his land.” Thus, the sentence proceeds in one uniform tenour. “Madam, an if my brother had my shape, and I had his—and if my legs were, &c.—and though his shape were heir, &c. I would give &lblank;.” Malone. The old reading is the true one. “To his shape” means, ‘in addition to it.’ So, in Troilus and Cressida: “The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, “Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant.” Mr. M. Mason, however, would transpose the words his and this: “And to this shape were heir to all his land.” By this shape, says he, Faulconbridge means, the shape he had been just describing. Steevens.

Note return to page 402 3I would not be sir Nob &lblank;] Sir Nob is used contemptuously for Sir Robert. The old copy reads—“It would not be &lblank;.” The correction was made by the editor of the second folio. I am not sure that it is necessary. Malone.

Note return to page 403 4&lblank; unto the death.] This expression (a Gallicism,—à la mort) is common among our ancient writers. Steevens.

Note return to page 404 5&lblank; but arise more great;] The old copy reads only—rise. Steevens. Perhaps, as Colonel Roberts suggested to me—“rise up more great.” But I rather think more is a dissyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 405 6Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet.] It is a common opinion, that Plantagenet was the surname of the royal house of England, from the time of King Henry II.; but it is, as Camden observes, in his Remaines, 1614, a popular mistake. Plantagenet was not a family name, but a nick-name, by which a grandson of Geffrey, the first Earl of Anjou, was distinguished, from his wearing a broom-stalk in his bonnet. But this name was never borne either by the first Earl of Anjou, or by King Henry II. the son of that Earl by the Empress Maude; he being always called Henry Fitz-Empress; his son, Richard Cœur-de-lion; and the prince who is exhibited in the play before us, John sans-terre, or lack-land. Malone.

Note return to page 406 7Madam, by chance, but not by truth: What though?] I am your grandson, madam, by chance, but not by honesty;—what then? Johnson.

Note return to page 407 8Something about, a little from the right, &c.] This speech, composed of allusive and proverbial sentences, is obscure. I am, says the sprightly knight, your grandson, a little irregularly, but every man cannot get what he wishes the legal way. He that dares not go about his designs by day, must make his motions in the night; he, to whom the door is shut, must climb the window, or leap the hatch. This, however, shall not depress me; for the world never enquires how any man got what he is known to possess, but allows that to have is to have, however it was caught, and that he who wins, shot well, whatever was his skill, whether the arrow fell near the mark, or far off it. Johnson.

Note return to page 408 9In at the window, &c.] These expressions mean, to be ‘born out of wedlock.’ So, in The Family of Love, 1608: “Woe worth the time that ever I gave suck to a child that came in at the window!” So, in Northward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607: “&lblank; kindred that comes in o'er the hatch, and sailing to Westminster,” &c. Such another phrase occurs in Any Thing for a Quiet Life: “&lblank; then you keep children in the name of your own, which she suspects came not in at the right door.” Again, in The Witches of Lancashire, by Heywood and Broome, 1634: “&lblank; It appears then by your discourse that you came in at the window.”—“I would not have you think I scorn my grannam's cat to leap over the hatch.” Again: “&lblank; to escape the dogs hath leaped in at a window.”—“'Tis thought you came into the world that way,—because you are a bastard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 409 1A foot of honour &lblank;] A step, un pas. Johnson.

Note return to page 410 2Good den,] i. e. a good evening. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.” Steevens.

Note return to page 411 3&lblank; sir Richard,] Thus the old copy, and rightly. In Act IV. Salisbury calls him sir Richard, and the King has just knighted him by that name. The modern editors arbitrarily read, sir Robert. Faulconbridge is now entertaining himself with ideas of greatness, suggested by his recent knighthood.—Good den, sir Richard, he supposes to be the salutation of a vassal; God-a-mercy, fellow, his own supercilious reply to it. Steevens.

Note return to page 412 4'Tis too respective, and too sociable For your conversion.] Respective is respectful, formal. So, in The Case is Altered, by Ben Jonson, 1609: “I pray you, sir; you are too respective in good faith.” Again, in the old comedy called Michaelmas Term, 1607: “Seem respective, to make his pride swell like a toad with dew.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice, Act V.: “You should have been respective,” &c. Again, in Chapman's version of the eleventh Iliad: “&lblank; his honourable blood “Was struck with a respective shame;”— “For your conversion” is the reading of the old copy, and may be right. It seems to mean, ‘his late change of condition from a private gentleman to a knight.’ Steevens. Mr. Pope, without necessity, reads—for your conversing. Our author has here, I think, used a licence of phraseology that he often takes. The Bastard has just said, that “new-made honour doth forget men's names;” and he proceeds as if he had said, “does not remember men's names.” To remember the name of an inferior, he adds, has too much of the respect which is paid to superiors, and of the social and friendly familiarity of equals, for your conversion,—for your present condition, now converted from the situation of a common man to the rank of a knight. Malone.

Note return to page 413 5&lblank; Now your traveller,] It is said, in All's Well That Ends Well, that “a traveller is a good thing after dinner.” In that age of newly excited curiosity, one of the entertainments at great tables seems to have been the discourse of a traveller. Johnson. So, in The Partyng of Frendes, a Copy of Verses subjoined to Tho. Churchyard's Praise and Reporte of Maister Martyne Forboisher's Voyage to Meta Incognita, &c. 1578: “&lblank; and all the parish throw “At church or market, in some sort, will talke of trav'lar now.” Steevens.

Note return to page 414 6He and his tooth-pick &lblank;] It has been already remarked, that to pick the tooth, and wear a piqued beard, were, in that time, marks of a man's affecting foreign fashions. Johnson. Among Gascoigne's poems I find one entitled, Councell given to Maister Bartholomew Withipoll a little before his latter Journey to Geane, 1572. The following lines may, perhaps, be acceptable to the reader who is curious enough to enquire about the fashionable follies imported in that age: “Now, Sir, if I shall see your mastership “Come home disguis'd, and clad in quaint array;— “As with a pike-tooth byting on your lippe; “Your brave mustachios turn'd the Turkie way; “A coptankt hat made on a Flemish blocke; “A night-gowne cloake down trayling to your toes; “A slender slop close couched to your dock; “A curtolde slipper, and a short silk hose,” &c. Again, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson, 1601: “&lblank; A traveller, one so made out of the mixture and shreds of forms, that himself is truly deformed. He walks most commonly with a clove or pick-tooth in his mouth.” So also, Fletcher: “&lblank; You that trust in travel; “You that enhance the daily price of tooth-picks.” Again, in Shirley's Grateful Servant, 1630: “I will continue my state-posture, use my tooth-pick with discretion,” &c. Steevens. So, in Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, 1616, [Article, an Affected Traveller:] “He censures all things by countenances and shrugs, and speaks his own language with shame and lisping: he will choke rather than confess beere good drink; and his tooth-pick is a main part of his behaviour.” Malone.

Note return to page 415 7&lblank; at my worship's mess;] Means, at that part of the table where I, as a knight, shall be placed. See The Winter's Tale, vol. xiv. p. 258, n. 1. “Your worship” was the regular address to a knight or esquire, in our author's time, as “your honour” was to a lord. Malone.

Note return to page 416 8My picked man of countries:] The word picked may not refer to the beard, but to the shoes, which were once worn of an immoderate length. To this fashion our author has alluded in King Lear, where the reader will find a more ample explanation. Picked may, however, mean only spruce in dress. Chaucer says, in one of his prologues: “Fresh and new her geare ypiked was.” And in The Merchant's Tale: “He kembeth him, and proineth him, and piketh.” In Hyrd's translation of Vives's Instruction of a Christian Woman, printed in 1591, we meet with “picked and apparelled goodly—goodly and pickedly arrayed.—Licurgus, when he would have women of his country to be regarded by their virtue, and not their ornaments, banished out of the country, by the law, all painting, and commanded out of the town all crafty men of picking and apparelling.” Again, in a comedy called All Fools, by Chapman, 1602: “'Tis such a picked fellow, not a haire “About his whole bulk, but it stands in print.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “He is too picked, too spruce,” &c. Again, in Greene's Defence of Coney-catching, 1592, in the description of a pretended traveller: “There be in England, especially about London, certain quaint pickt, and neat companions, attired, &c. alamode de France,” &c. If a comma be placed after the word man,—“I catechise my picked man, of countries:” the passage will seem to mean, “I catechise my selected man, about the countries through which he travelled.” Steevens. The last interpretation of picked, offered by Mr. Steevens, is undoubtedly the true one. So, in Wilson's Art of Rhetorique, 1553: “&lblank; such riot, dicyng, cardyng, pyking,” &c. Piked or picked, (for the word is variously spelt,) in the writings of our author and his contemporaries, generally means, spruce, affected, effeminate. See also Minsheu's Dict. 1617: “To picke or trimme. Vid. Trimme.” Malone. My “picked man of countries” is—my travelled fop. Holt White. The word picked is still used in Devonshire, and when spoken of a man it means a keen, sharp fellow; a picked knife is the common description of a pointed knife. Phillipps.

Note return to page 417 9&lblank; like an ABC-book:] An ABC-book, or, as they spoke and wrote it, an absey-book, is a catechisn. Johnson. So, in the ancient Interlude of Youth, bl. l. no date: “In the A. B. C. of bokes the least, “Yt is written, Deus charitas est.” Again, in Tho. Nash's dedication to Greene's Arcadia, 1616: “&lblank; make a patrimony of In speech, and more than a younger brother's inheritance of their Abcie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 418 *First folio, Absey.

Note return to page 419 1And so, ere answer knows what question would, (Saving in dialogue of compliment;] Sir W. Cornwallis's 28th Essay thus ridicules the extravagance of compliment in our poet's days, 1601: “We spend even at his (i. e. a friend's or a stranger's) entrance, a whole volume of words.—What a deal of synamon and ginger is sacrificed to dissimulation! ‘O, how blessed do I take mine eyes for presenting me with this sight! O Signior, the star that governs my life in contentment, give me leave to interre myself in your arms!—Not so, sir, it is too unworthy an inclosure to contain such preciousness,’ &c. &c. This, and a cup of drink, makes the time as fit for a departure as can be.” Tollet.

Note return to page 420 2For he is but a bastard to the time, &c.] He is accounted but a mean man, in the present age, who does not show, by his dress, his deportment, and his talk, that he has travelled, and made observations in foreign countries. The old copy, in the next line, reads—smoak. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 421 3Which, though &lblank;] The construction will be mended, if instead of which though, we read—this though. Johnson.

Note return to page 422 4But who comes &lblank;] Milton, in his tragedy, introduces Dalilah with such an interrogatory exclamation. Johnson.

Note return to page 423 5&lblank; to blow a horn &lblank;] He means, that a woman who travelled about like a post, was likely to horn her husband. Johnson.

Note return to page 424 6&lblank; James Gurney.] Our author found this name in perusing the history of King John, who, not long before his victory at Mirabeau, over the French, headed by young Arthur, seized the lands and castle of Hugh Gorney, near Butevant, in Normandy. Malone.

Note return to page 425 7Colbrand &lblank;] Colbrand was a Danish giant, whom Guy of Warwick discomfited in the presence of King Athelstan. The combat is very pompously described by Drayton, in his Polyolbion. Johnson. Colbrond is also mentioned in the old romance of The Squyr of Lowe Degre, sig. a. iii.: “Or els so doughty of my honde “As was the gyaunte syr Colbronde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 426 8Good leave, &c.] Good leave means a ready assent. So, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act III. Sc. II.: “K. Edw. Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit. “Glo. Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 427 9Philip?—sparrow!] Dr. Grey observes, that Skelton has a poem to the memory of Philip Sparrow; and Mr. Pope, in a short note, remarks that a sparrow is called Philip. Johnson. Gascoigne has likewise a poem entitled, The Praise of Phil Sparrow; and in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601, is the following passage: “The birds sit chirping, chirping, &c. “Philip is treading, treading,” &c. Again, in The Northern Lass, 1633: “A bird whose pastime made me glad, “And Philip 'twas my sparrow.” Again, in Magnificence, an ancient interlude, by Skelton, published by Rastell: “With me in kepynge such a Phylyp Sparowe.” Steevens. The Bastard means: Philip! Do you take me for a sparrow? Hawkins. The sparrow is called Philip from its note: “&lblank; cry “Phip phip the sparrowes as they fly.” Lyly's Mother Bombie. From the sound of the sparrow's chirping, Catullus, in his Elegy on Lesbia's Sparrow, has formed a verb: Sed circumsiliens modo huc, modo illuc, Ad solam dominam usque pipilabat. Holt White.

Note return to page 428 1There's toys abroad; &c.] i. e. rumours, idle reports. So, in Ben Jonson's Sejanus: “&lblank; Toys, mere toys, “What wisdom's in the streets.” Again, in a postscript of a letter from the Countess of Essex to Dr. Forman, in relation to the trial of Anne Turner, for the murder of Sir Tho. Overbury: “&lblank; they may tell my father and mother, and fill their ears full of toys.” State Trials, vol. i. p. 322. Steevens.

Note return to page 429 2&lblank; might have eat his part in me Upon Good-friday, and ne'er broke his fast:] This thought occurs in Heywood's Dialogues upon Proverbs, 1562: “&lblank; he may his parte on good Fridaie eate, “And fast never the wurs, for ought he shall geate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 430 3&lblank; (to confess!)] Mr. M. Mason regards the adverb to as an error of the press: but I rather think, to confess, means—to come to confession. “But, to come to a fair confession now, (says the Bastard,) could he have been the instrument of my production?” Steevens.

Note return to page 431 *First folio omits he.

Note return to page 432 4Knight, knight, good mother,—Basilisco-like:] Thus must this passage be pointed; and to come at the humour of it, I must clear up an old circumstance of stage-history. Faulconbridge's words here carry a concealed piece of satire on a stupid drama of that age printed in 1599, and called Soliman and Perseda. In this piece there is a character of a bragging cowardly knight called Basilisco. His pretension to valour is so blown, and seen through, that Piston, a buffoon-servant in the play, jumps upon his back, and will not disengage him, till he makes Basilisco swear upon his dudgeon dagger to the contents, and in the terms he dictates to him; as, for instance: “Bas. O, I swear, I swear. “Pist. By the contents of this blade,— “Bas. By the contents of this blade,— “Pist. I, the aforesaid Basilisco,— “Bas. I, the aforesaid Basilisco,—knight, good fellow, knight. “Pist. Knave, good fellow, knave, knave.” So that, it is clear, our poet is sneering at this play; and makes Philip, when his mother calls him knave, throw off that reproach by humorously laying claim to his new dignity of knighthood; as Basilisco arrogantly insists on his title of knight, in the passage above quoted. The old play is an excrecable bad one; and, I suppose, was sufficiently exploded in the representation: which might make this circumstance so well known, as to become the butt for a stage-sarcasm. Theobald. The character of Basilisco is mentioned in Nash's Have with you to Saffron Walden, &c. printed in the year 1596. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 5Thou art &lblank;] Old copy—That art. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 434 6Some sins &lblank;] There are sins that whatever be determined of them above, are not much censured on earth. Johnson.

Note return to page 435 7Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,— Against whose fury and unmatched force The awless lion could not wage the fight, &c.] Shakspeare here alludes to the old metrical romance of Richard Cœur-de-lion, wherein this once celebrated monarch is related to have acquired his distinguishing appellation, by having plucked out a lion's heart, to whose fury he was exposed by the Duke of Austria, for having slain his son with a blow of his fist. From this ancient romance the story has crept into some of our old chronicles: but the original passage may be seen at large in the introduction to the third volume of Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Percy.

Note return to page 436 8Richard, that robb'd, &c.] So, Rastal, in his Chronicle: “It is sayd that a lyon was put to kynge Richard, beynge in prison to have devoured him, and when the lyon was gapynge he put his arm in his mouth, and pulled the lyon by the harte so harde that he slewe the lyon, and therefore some say he is called Rycharde Cure de Lyon; but some say he is called Cure de Lyon, because of his boldness and hardy stomake.” Grey. I have an old black-lettered History of Lord Faulconbridge, whence Shakspeare might pick up this circumstance. Farmer. In Heywood's Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601, there is a long description of this fabulous atchievement. The same story is told by Knighton, inter Decem Scriptores, and by Fabian, who calls it a fable. It probably took its rise from Hugh de Neville, one of Richard's followers, having killed a lion, when they were in the Holy Land: a circumstance recorded by Matthew Paris. Malone.

Note return to page 437 9By this brave duke came early to his grave:] The old play led Shakspeare into this error of ascribing to the Duke of Austria the death of Richard, who lost his life at the siege of Chaluz long after he had been ransomed out of Austria's power. Steevens. The producing Austria on the scene is also contrary to the truth of history, into which anachronism our author was led by the old play. Leopold, Duke of Austria, by whom Richard I. had been thrown in prison in 1193, died, in consequence of a fall from his horse, in 1195, some years before the commencement of the present play. The original cause of the enmity between Richard the First and the Duke of Austria, was, according to Fabian, that Richard “tooke from a knighte of the Duke of Ostriche the said Duke's banner, and in despite of the said duke, trade it under foote, and did unto it all the spite he might.” Harding says, in his Chronicle, that the cause of quarrel was Richard's taking down the Duke of Austria's arms and banner, which he had set up above those of the King of France and the King of Jerusalem. The affront was given when they lay before Acre in Palestine. This circumstance is alluded to in the old King John, where the Bastard, after killing Austria, says— “And as my father triumph'd in thy spoils, “And trod thine ensigns underneath his feet,” &c. Other historians say, that the Duke suspected Richard to have been concerned in the assassination of his kinsman, the Marquis of Montferrat, who was stabbed in Tyre, soon after he had been elected King of Jerusalem; but this was a calumny, propagated by Richard's enemies, for political purposes. Malone.

Note return to page 438 1At our importance &lblank;] At our importunity. Johnson. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; Maria writ “The letter at Sir Toby's great importance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 439 2&lblank; that pale, that white-fac'd shore,] England is supposed to be called Albion from the white rocks facing France. Johnson.

Note return to page 440 3To make a more requital, &c.] I believe it has been already observed, that more signified, in our author's time, greater. Steevens. See Henry IV. Part I. Act IV. Sc. III.: “The more and less came in with cap and knee.” Boswell.

Note return to page 441 4To cull the plots of best advantages:] i. e. to mark such stations as might most over-awe the town. Henley.

Note return to page 442 5A wonder, lady!] The wonder is only that Chatillon happened to arrive at the moment when Constance mentioned him; which the French king, according to a superstition which prevails more or less, in every mind agitated by great affairs, turns into a miraculous interposition, or omen of good. Johnson.

Note return to page 443 6&lblank; expedient &lblank;] Immediate, expeditious. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “A breach that craves a quick, expedient stop.” Steevens.

Note return to page 444 7An Ate, stirring him, &c.] Até was the Goddess of Revenge. The player-editors read—An Ace. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. This image might have been borrowed from the celebrated libel, called Leicester's Commonwealth, originally published about the year 1584: “&lblank; She standeth like a fiend or fury, at the elbow of her Amadis, to stirre him forward when occasion shall serve.” Steevens.

Note return to page 445 8With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd.] This line, except the word with, is borrowed from the old play of King John, already mentioned. See p. 202, n. 8. Our author should have written —king, and so the modern editors read. But there is certainly no corruption, for we have the same phraseology elsewhere. Malone. It may as justly be said that the same error has been elsewhere repeated by the same illiterate compositors. Steevens. The phraseology which Mr. Steevens objects to is common at this day. Boswell.

Note return to page 446 9Bearing their birthrights, &c.] So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; O, many “Have broke their backs with laying manors on them.” Johnson.

Note return to page 447 1Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er.] Waft, for wafted. So again in this play: “The iron of itself, though heat red hot &lblank;.” i. e. heated. Steevens.

Note return to page 448 2&lblank; scath &lblank;] Destruction, harm. Johnson. So, in How to Chuse a Good Wife from a Bad, 1602: “For these accounts, 'faith it shall scath thee something.” Again: “And it shall scath him somewhat of my purse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 449 3&lblank; under-wrought &lblank;] i. e. underworked, undermined. Steevens.

Note return to page 450 4&lblank; this brief &lblank;] A brief is a short writing, abstract, or description. Steevens. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Here is a brief how many sports are ripe.” Malone.

Note return to page 451 5England was Geffrey's right, And this is Geffrey's:] I have no doubt but we should read— “And his is Geffrey's.” The meaning is, “England was Geffrey's right, and whatever was Geffrey's, is now his,” pointing to Arthur. M. Mason.

Note return to page 452 6To draw my answer from thy articles?] I think we should read: “To draw my answer to thy articles?” From seems to have been caught from the preceding line. Roberts.

Note return to page 453 7To look into the blots and stains of right.] Mr. Theobald reads, with the first folio, blots, which being so early authorized, and so much better understood, needed not to have been changed by Dr. Warburton to bolts, though bolts might be used in that time for spots: so Shakspeare calls Banquo “spotted with blood, the blood-bolter'd Banquo.” The verb to bolt is used figuratively for to disgrace, a few lines lower. And, perhaps, after all, bolts was only a typographical mistake. Johnson. Blots is certainly right. The illegitimate branch of a family always carried the arms of it with what, in ancient heraldry, was called a blot or difference. So, in Drayton's Epistle from Queen Isabel to King Richard II.: “No bastard's mark doth blot his conquering shield.” Blots and stains occur again together in the first scene of the third Act. Steevens. Blot had certainly the heraldical sense mentioned by Mr. Steevens. But it here, I think, means only blemishes. So again, in Act III. Sc. I.: “Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains.” Malone.

Note return to page 454 8That thou may'st be a queen, and check the world!] “Surely (says Holinshed) Queen Eleanor, the kyngs mother, was sore against her nephew Arthur, rather moved thereto by envye conceyved against his mother, than upon any just occasion, given in the behalfe of the childe; for that she saw, if he were king, how his mother Constance would looke to beare the most rule within the realme of Englande, till her sonne should come to a lawfull age to governe of himselfe. So hard a thing it is, to bring women to agree in one minde, their natures commonly being so contrary.” Malone.

Note return to page 455 8&lblank; an if thou wert his mother;] Constance alludes to Elinor's infidelity to her husband, Lewis the Seventh, when they were in the Holy Land; on account of which he was divorced from her. She afterwards (1151) married our King Henry II. Malone.

Note return to page 456 9Hear the crier.] Alluding to the usual proclamation for silence, made by criers in courts of justice, beginning Oyez, corruptly pronounced O-Yes. Austria has just said Peace! Malone.

Note return to page 457 1One that will play the devil, sir, with you, An 'a may catch your hide and you alone.] The ground of the quarrel of the Bastard to Austria is no where specified in the present play. But the story is, that Austria, who killed King Richard Cœur-de-lion, wore, as the spoil of that prince, a lion's hide, which had belonged to him. This circumstance renders the anger of the Bastard very natural, and ought not to have been omitted. Pope. See p. 220, n. 7, and p. 221, n. 8. Malone. The omission of this incident was natural. Shakspeare having familiarised the story to his own imagination, forgot that it was obscure to his audience; or, what is equally probable, the story was then so popular, that a hint was sufficient, at that time, to bring it to mind; and these plays were written with very little care for the approbation of posterity. Johnson.

Note return to page 458 2You are the hare &lblank;] So, in The Spanish Tragedy: “He hunted well that was a lion's death; “Not he that in a garment wore his skin: “So hares may pull dead lions by the beard.” See p. 198, n. 3. Steevens. The proverb alluded to is, “Mortuo leoni et lepores insultant.” Erasmi Adag. Malone.

Note return to page 459 3It lies as sightly on the back of him, As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass:] But why his shoes, in the name of propriety? For let Hercules and his shoes have been really as big as they were ever supposed to be, yet they (I mean the shoes) would not have been an overload for an ass. I am persuaded I have retrieved the true reading [shows]; and let us observe the justness of the comparison now. Faulconbridge, in his resentment, would say this to Austria: “That lion's skin, which my great father King Richard once wore, looks as uncouthly on thy back, as that other noble hide, which was borne by Hercules, would look on the back of an ass.” A double allusion was intended; first, to the fable of the ass in the lion's skin; then Richard I. is finely set in competition with Alcides, as Austria is satirically coupled with the ass. Theobald. This endeavour to make our author's similes exactly correspond on both sides, is, as has been more than once observed, the source of many errors. Malone. The shoes of Hercules are more than once introduced in the old comedies, on much the same occasions. So, in The Isle of Gulls, by J. Day, 1606: “&lblank; are as fit, as Hercules's shoe for the foot of a pigmy.” Again, in Greene's Epistle Dedicatory to Perimedes the Blacksmith, 1588: “&lblank; and so, lest I should shape Hercules' shoe for a child's foot, I commend your worship to the Almighty.” Again, in Greene's Penelope's Web, 1601: “I will not make a long harvest for a small crop, nor go about to pull a Hercules' shoe on Achilles foot.” Again, ibid.: “Hercules' shoe will never serve a child's foot.” Again, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “&lblank; to draw the lion's skin upon Æsop's asse, or Hercules' shoes on a childes feete.” Again, in the second of William Rankins's Seven Satyres, &c. 1598: “Yet in Alcides' buskins will he stalke.” Steevens. “&lblank; upon an ass:” i. e. upon the hoofs of an ass. Mr. Theobald thought the shoes must be placed on the back of the ass; and, therefore, to avoid this incongruity, reads—Alcides' shows. Malone.

Note return to page 460 4K. Phi. Lewis, determine, &c.] Thus Mr. Malone, and perhaps rightly; for the next speech is given, in the old copy, (as it stands in the present text,) to Lewis the dauphin, who was afterwards Lewis VIII. The speech itself, however, seems sufficiently appropriated to the King; and nothing can be inferred from the folio, with any certainty, but that the editors of it were careless and ignorant. Steevens. In the old copy this line stands thus: “King Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.” To the first three speeches spoken in this scene by King Philip, the word King only is prefixed. I have therefore given this line to him. The transcriber or compositor having, I imagine, forgotten to distinguish the word King by Italicks, and to put a full point after it, these words having been printed as part of Austria's speech: “King Lewis,” &c.; but such an arrangement must be erroneous, for Lewis was not King. Some of our author's editors have left Austria in possession of the line, and corrected the error by reading here: “King Philip, determine,” &c. and giving the next speech to him, instead of Lewis. I once thought that the line before us might stand as part of Austria's speech, and that he might have addressed Philip and the Dauphin by the words, King,—Lewis, &c. but the addressing Philip by the title of King, without any addition, seems too familiar, and I therefore think it more probable that the error happened in the way above stated. Malone.

Note return to page 461 5&lblank; Anjou,] Old copy—Angiers. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 462 6Now shame upon you, whe'r she does, or no!] Whe'r for whether. So, in an Epigram, by Ben Jonson: “Who shall doubt, Donne, whe'r I a poet be, “When I dare send my epigrams to thee?” Again, in Gower's De Confessione Amantis, 1532: “That maugre where she wolde or not &lblank;.” Malone. Read:—“whe'r he does, or no!”—i. e. ‘whether he weeps or not.’ Constance, so far from admitting, expressly denies that she shames him. Ritson.

Note return to page 463 7Of this oppressed boy: This is thy eldest son's son,] Mr. Ritson would omit the redundant words—“This is,” and read: “Of this oppressed boy: thy eldest son's son.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 8I have but this to say,— That he's not only plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sin and her the plague, &c.] This passage appears to me very obscure. The chief difficulty arises from this, that Constance having told Elinor of her sin-conceiving womb, pursues the thought, and uses sin through the next lines in an ambiguous sense, sometimes for crime, and sometimes for offspring. “He's not only plagued for her sin,” &c. He is not only made miserable by vengeance for her sin or crime; but her sin, her offspring, and she, are made the instruments of that vengeance, on this descendant; who, though of the second generation, is “plagued for her and with her;” to whom she is not only the cause but the instrument of evil. The next clause is more perplexed. All the editions read: “&lblank; plagu'd for her, “And with her plague her sin; his injury “Her injury, the beadle to her sin, “All punish'd in the person of this child.” I point thus: “&lblank; plagu'd for her “And with her.—Plague her son! his injury “Her injury, the beadle to her sin.” That is, instead of inflicting vengeance on this innocent and remote descendant, punish her son, her immediate offspring: then the affliction will fall where it is deserved; his injury will be her injury, and the misery of her sin; her son will be a beadle, or chastiser, of her crimes, which are now all punish'd in the person of this child. Johnson. Mr. Roderick reads: “&lblank; plagu'd for her, “And with her plagu'd; her sin, his injury &lblank;.” We may read: “But God hath made her sin and her the plague “On this removed issue, plagu'd for her; “And, with her sin, her plague, his injury “Her injury, the beadle to her sin.” i. e. “God hath made her and her sin together, the plague of her most remote descendants, who are plagued for her;” the same power hath likewise “made her sin her own plague, and the injury she has done to him her own injury, as a beadle to lash that sin.” i. e. Providence has so ordered it, that she who is made the instrument of punishment to another, has, in the end, converted that other into an instrument of punishment for herself. Steevens. Constance observes that he (iste, pointing to King John, “whom from the flow of gall she names not,”) is not only plagued [with the present war] for his mother's sin, but God hath made her sin and her the plague also on this removed issue [Arthur], plagued on her account, and by the means of her sinful offspring, whose injury [the usurpation of Arthur's rights] may be considered as her injury, or the injury of her sin-conceiving womb; and John's injury may also be considered as the beadle or officer of correction employed by her crimes to inflict all these punishments on the person of this child. Tollet. Plagued, in these plays, generally means punished. So, in King Richard III.: “And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.” So, Holinshed: “&lblank; they for very remorse and dread of the divine plague, will either shamefully flie,” &c. Not being satisfied with any of the emendations proposed, I have adhered to the original copy. I suspect that two half lines have been lost after the words—“And with her &lblank;.” If the text be right, with, I think, means by, (as in many other passages,) and Mr. Tollet's interpretation is the true one. Removed, I believe, here signifies remote. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “From Athens is her house remov'd seven leagues.” Malone. Much as the text of this note has been belaboured, the original reading needs no alteration: “&lblank; I have but this to say, “That he's not only plagued for her sin, “But God hath made her sin and her the plague “On this removed issue, plagued for her, “And with her plague, her sin; his injury, “Her injury, the beadle to her sin, “All punish'd in the person of this child.” The key to these words is contained in the last speech of Constance, where she alludes to the denunciation of the second commandment of “visiting the iniquities of the parents upon the children, unto the third and fourth generation,” &c. “Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “This is thy eldest son's son, &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “Thy sins are visited in this poor child; “The cannon of the law is laid on him, “Being but the second generation, “Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.” Young Arthur is here represented as not only suffering from the guilt of his grandmother; but, also, by her, in person, she being made the very instrument of his sufferings. As he was not here immediate, but removed issue—the second generation from her sin-conceiving womb—it might have been expected, that the evils to which, upon her account, he was obnoxious, would have incidentally befallen him; instead of his being punished for them all, by her immediate infliction.—He is not only plagued on account of her sin, according to the threatening of the commandment, but she is preserved alive to her second generation, to be the instrument of inflicting on her grandchild the penalty annexed to her sin: so that he is plagued on her account, and with her plague, which is, her sin, that is, [taking, by a common figure, the cause for the consequence] the penalty entailed upon it. His injury, or, the evil he suffers, her sin brings upon him, and her injury, or, the evil she inflicts, he suffers from her, as the beadle to her sin, or executioner of the punishment annexed to it. Henley.

Note return to page 465 9It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions.] Dr. Warburton has well observed, on one of the former plays, that to “cry aim” is to encourage. I once thought it was borrowed from archery; and that aim! having been the word of command, as we now say present! to cry aim had been to incite notice, or raise attention. But I rather think that the old word of applause was J'aime, I love it, and that to applaud was to cry J'aime, which the English, not easily pronouncing Je, sunk into aime, or aim. Our exclamations of applause are still borrowed, as bravo and encore. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's first thought, I believe, is best. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Love's Cure, or The Martial Maid: “&lblank; Can I cry aim “To this against myself? &lblank;” Again, in Tarlton's Jests, 1611: “The people had much ado to keep peace: but Bankes and Tarleton had like to have squared, and the horse by, to give aime.” Again, in Churchyard's Charge, 1580, p. 8, b: “Yet he that stands, and giveth aime, “Maie judge what shott doeth lose the game; “What shooter beats the marke in vaine, “Who shooteth faire, who shooteth plaine.” Again, in our author's Merry Wives of Windsor, where Ford says: “&lblank; and to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim.” See vol. viii. p. 98, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 466 1For our advantage;—Therefore, hear us first.] If we read—“For your advantage,” it will be a more specious reason for interrupting Philip. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 467 2Confront your city's eyes,] The old copy reads—Comfort, &c. Mr. Rowe made this necessary change. Steevens.

Note return to page 468 3&lblank; your winking gates;] i. e. gates hastily closed from an apprehension of danger. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “And winking leap'd into destruction.” Malone. So, in Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Whether it were lead or latten that hasp'd those winking casements, I know not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 469 4&lblank; dishabited,] i. e. dislodged, violently removed from their places:—a word, I believe, of our author's coinage. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 5&lblank; a countercheck &lblank;] This, I believe, is one of the ancient terms used in the game of chess. So, in Mucedorus, 1598: “Post hence thyself, thou counterchecking trull.” Steevens.

Note return to page 471 6They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “This helpless smoke of words, doth me no right.” Malone.

Note return to page 472 7Forwearied &lblank;] i. e. worn out, Sax. So, Chaucer, in his Romaunt of the Rose, speaking of the mantle of Avarice: “And if it were forwerid, she “Would havin,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 473 8To him that owes it;] Owes is here, as in other books of our author's time, used for own. Malone. See our author and his contemporaries, passim. So, in Othello: “&lblank; that sweet sleep “That thou ow'dst yesterday.” Steevens. This use of the word continued till the time of Charles II. I am possessed of a volume containing Legh's Accedens of Armory, and Bossewell's Works of Armorie, bound up together, which is ascertained to have been formerly the property of Randle Holme (I suppose the antiquary), by these whimsical lines written in a fly-leaf at the beginning: “Randle Holme this book doth owe, “William Holme the same doth knowe; “R. Holme junier will testefie, “That William Holme doth not lye.” Boswell.

Note return to page 474 9'Tis not the roundure, &c.] Roundure means the same as the French rondeur, i. e. the circle. So, in All's Lost by Lust, a tragedy by Rowley, 1633: “&lblank; will she meet our arms “With an alternate roundure?” Again, in Shakspeare's 21st Sonnet: “&lblank; all things rare, “That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 1I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,] So, in the old spurious play of King John: “But let the frolick Frenchman take no scorn, “If Philip front him with an English horn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 476 2You men of Angiers, &c.] This speech is very poetical and smooth, and, except the conceit of the widow's husband embracing the earth, is just and beautiful. Johnson.

Note return to page 477 3Rejoice, you men of Angiers, &c.] The English Herald falls somewhat below his antagonist. Silver armour gilt with blood is a poor image. Yet our author has it again in Macbeth: “&lblank; Here lay Duncan, “His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood.” Johnson.

Note return to page 478 4&lblank; all gilt with Frenchman's blood;] This phrase, which has already been exemplified in Macbeth, vol. xi. p. 109, n. 5, occurs also in Chapman's version of the sixteenth Iliad: “The curets from great Hector's breast, all gilded with his gore.” Again, in the same translator's version of the 19th Odyssey: “And shew'd his point gilt with the gushing gore.” Steevens.

Note return to page 479 5And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, &c.] It was, I think, one of the savage practices of the chase, for all to stain their hands in the blood of the deer as a trophy. Johnson. Shakspeare alludes to the same practice in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; Here thy hunters stand, “Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 6Heralds, from off, &c.] These three speeches seem to have been laboured. The Citizen's is the best; yet both alike we like is a poor gingle. Johnson.

Note return to page 481 7&lblank; cannot be censured:] i. e. cannot be estimated. See vol. iv. p. 19, n. 7. Our author ought rather to have written— whose superiority, or whose inequality, cannot be censured. Malone. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “If you do censure me by what you were, “Not what you are.” Steevens.

Note return to page 482 8Say, shall the current of our right roam on?] The editor of the second folio substituted run, which has been adopted in the subsequent editions. I do not perceive any need of change. In The Tempest we have—“the wandering brooks.” Malone. I prefer the reading of the second folio. So in King Henry V.: “As many streams run into one self sea.” The King would rather describe his right as running on in a direct than in an irregular course, such as would be implied by the word roam. Steevens.

Note return to page 483 9&lblank; mousing the flesh of men,] Mousing, like many ancient and now uncouth expressions, was expelled from our author's text by Mr. Pope; and mouthing, which he substituted in its room, has been adopted in the subsequent editions, without any sufficient reason in my apprehension. Mousing is, I suppose, mamocking, and devouring eagerly, as a cat devours a mouse. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Well moused Lion!” Again, in The Wonderful Year, by Thomas Decker, 1603: “Whilst Troy was swilling sack and sugar, and mousing fat venison, the mad Greekes made bonfires of their houses.” Malone. I retain Mr. Pope's emendation, which is supported by the following passage in Hamlet: “&lblank; first mouthed to be last swallowed.” Shakspeare designed no ridicule in this speech; and therefore did not write, (as when he was writing the burlesque interlude of Pyramus and Thisbe,)—mousing. Steevens. Shakspeare is perpetually in the habit of using familiar terms and images in his most serious scenes. To instance only what occurs in this very play: “Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty, “Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,” &c. Act IV. Scene last, ad finem. Again, Act V. Sc. II.: “Have I not here the best cards for the game.” Again, Act V. Sc. IV.: “Unthread the rude eye of rebellion!” Malone.

Note return to page 484 1Cry, havock, kings!] That is, command slaughter to proceed. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Cry, havock, and let slip the dogs of war.” Johnson.

Note return to page 485 2You equal potents,] Potents, for potentates. So, in Ane verie excellent and delectabill Treatise intitulit Philotus, &c. 1603: “Ane of the potentes of the town, &lblank;.”

Note return to page 486 3A greater power than we, denies all this;— King'd of our fears;] The old copy reads— “Kings of our feare &lblank;” &c. Steevens. “A greater power than we,” may mean, ‘the Lord of hosts, who has not yet decided the superiority of either army; and till it be undoubted the people of Angiers will not open their gates.’ Secure and confident as lions, they are not at all afraid, but are kings, i. e. masters and commanders, of their fears, until their fears or doubts about the rightful King of England are removed. Tollet. We should read, than ye. What power was this? their fears. It is plain, therefore, we should read: “Kings are our fears; &lblank;” i. e. our fears are the kings which at present rule us. Warburton. Dr. Warburton saw what was requisite to make this passage sense; and Dr. Johnson, rather too hastily, I think, has received his emendation into the text. He reads: “Kings are our fears; &lblank;” which he explains to mean, “our fears are the kings which at present rule us.” As the same sense may be obtained by a much slighter alteration, I am more inclined to read: “King'd of our fears; &lblank;” King'd is used as a participle passive by Shakspeare more than once, I believe. I remember one instance in Henry the Fifth, Act II. Sc. V. The Dauphin says of England: “&lblank; she is so idly king'd.” It is scarce necessary to add, that of, here (as in numberless other places) has the signification of by. Tyrwhitt. “King'd of our fears;” i. e. our fears being our kings, or rulers. King'd is again used in King Richard II.: “Then I am king'd again.” It is manifest that the passage in the old copy is corrupt, and that it must have been so worded, that their fears should be styled their kings or masters, and not they, kings, or masters of their fears; because in the next line mention is made of these fears being deposed. Mr. Tyrwhitt's emendation produces this meaning by a very slight alteration, and is, therefore, I think, entitled to a place in the text. The following passage in our author's Rape of Lucrece, strongly, in my opinion, confirms his conjecture: “So shall these slaves [Tarquin's unruly passions] be kings, and thou their slave.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; It seems, she was a queen “Over her passion, who, most rebel-like, “Sought to be king o'er her.” This passage in the folio is given to King Philip, and in a subsequent part of this scene, all the speeches of the citizens are given to Hubert; which I mention, because these, and innumerable other instances, where the same error has been committed in that edition, justify some licence in transferring speeches from one person to another. Malone.

Note return to page 487 [4] r4&lblank; these scroyles of Angiers &lblank;] Escroulles, Fr. i. e. scabby, scrophulous fellows. Ben Johnson uses the word in Every Man in his Humour: “&lblank; hang them scroyles!” Steevens.

Note return to page 488 5At your industrious scenes &lblank;] I once wished to read— illustrious; but now I believe the text to be right. Malone. The old reading is undoubtedly the true one. Your industrious scenes and acts of death, is the same as if the speaker had said— your laborious industry of war. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; and put we on “Industrious soldiership.” Steevens.

Note return to page 489 6Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,] The mutines are the mutineers, the seditious. So again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; and lay “Worse than the mutines in the bilboes.” Our author had probably read the following passages in A Compendious and Most Marvellous History of the Latter Times of the Jewes Common-Weale, &c. Written in Hebrew, by Joseph Ben Gorion,—translated into English, by Peter Morwyn, 1575: “The same yeere the civil warres grew and increased in Jerusalem; for the citizens slew one another without any truce, rest, or quietnesse. —The people were divided into three parties; whereof the first and best followed Anani, the high-priest; another part followed seditious Jehochanan; the third most cruel Schimeon.— Anani, being a perfect godly man, and seeing the common-weale of Jerusalem governed by the seditious, gave over his third part, that stacke to him, to Eliasar, his sonne. Eliasar with his companie took the Temple, and the courts about it; appointing of his men, some to bee spyes, some to keepe watche and warde.—But Jehochanan tooke the market-place and streetes, the lower part of the citie. Then Schimeon, the Jerosolimite, tooke the highest part of the towne, wherefore his men annoyed Jehochanan's parte sore with slings and crosse-bowes. Betweene these three there was also most cruel battailes in Jerusalem for the space of four daies. “Titus' campe was about sixe furlongs from the towne. The next morrow they of the towne seeing Titus to be encamped upon the mount Olivet, the captaines of the seditious assembled together, and fell at argument, every man with another, intending to turne their cruelty upon the Romaines, confirming and ratifying the same atonement and purpose, by swearing one to another; and so became peace amongst them. Wherefore joyning together, that before were three severall parts, they set open the gates, and all the best of them issued out with an horrible noyse and shoute, that they made the Romaines afraide withall, in such wise that they fled before the seditious, which sodainly did set uppon them unawares.” This allusion is not found in the old play. Malone.

Note return to page 490 7Be friends a while, &c.] This advice is given by the Bastard in the old copy of the play, though comprized in fewer and less spirited lines. Steevens.

Note return to page 491 8Till their soul-fearing clamours &lblank;] i. e. soul-appalling. See vol. v. p. 34, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 492 9O prudent discipline! &c.] The poet has made Faulconbridge forget that he had made a similar mistake. See the preceding page: “By east and west let France and England mount “Their battering cannon &lblank;” Talbot.

Note return to page 493 1&lblank; the lady Blanch,] The lady Blanch was daughter to Alphonso the Ninth, King of Castile, and was niece to King John by his sister Eleanor. Steevens.

Note return to page 494 2If zealous love, &c.] Zealous seems here to signify pious, or influenced by motives of religion. Johnson.

Note return to page 495 3If not complete, O say,] The old copy reads—“If not complete of, say,” &c. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 496 4&lblank; such a she;] The old copy—as she.” Steevens. Dr. Thirlby prescribed that reading, which I have here restored to the text. Theobald.

Note return to page 497 5&lblank; at this match, With swifter spleen, &c.] Our author uses spleen for any violent hurry, or tumultuous speed. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, he applies spleen to the lightning. I am loath to think that Shakspeare meant to play with the double of match for nuptial, and the match of a gun. Johnson.

Note return to page 498 5Here's a stay, That shakes the rotten carcase of old death Out of his rags!] I cannot but think that every reader wishes for some other word in the place of stay, which though it may signify an hindrance, or man that hinders, is yet very improper to introduce the next line. I read: “Here's a flaw, “That shakes the rotten carcase of old death.” That is, here is a gust of bravery, a blast of menace. This suits well with the spirit of the speech. Stay and flaw, in a careless hand, are not easily distinguished; and if the writing was obscure, flaw being a word less usual, was easily missed. Johnson. Stay, I apprehend, here signifies a supporter of a cause. Here's an extraordinary partizan, that shakes, &c. So, in the last Act of this play: “What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, “When this was now a king, and now is clay?” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.” Again, in King Richard III.: “What stay had I, but Edward, and he's gone.” Again, in Davies's Scourge of Folly, printed about the year 1611: “England's fast friend, and Ireland's constant stay.” It is observable, that partizan, in like manner, though now generally used to signify an adherent to a party, originally meant a pike or halberd. Perhaps, however, our author meant by the words, “Here's a stay,” ‘Here's a fellow, who whilst he makes a proposition as a stay or obstacle, to prevent the effusion of blood, shakes,’ &c. The Citizen has just said: “Hear us, great kings, vouchsafe a while to stay, “And I shall show you peace,” &c. It is, I conceive, no objection to this interpretation, that an impediment or obstacle could not shake death, &c. though the person who endeavoured to stay or prevent the attack of the two kings, might. Shakspeare seldom attends to such minutiæ. But the first explanation appears to me more probable. Malone. Perhaps the force of the word stay, is not exactly known. I meet with it in Damon and Pythias, 1582: “Not to prolong my life thereby, for which I reckon not this, “But to set my things in a stay.” Perhaps by a stay, the Bastard means “a steady, resolute fellow, who shakes,” &c. So, in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, bl. l. 4to. 1567: “&lblank; more apt to follow th' inclination of vaine and lascivious desyer, than disposed to make a staye of herselfe in the trade of honest vertue.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 22d Iliad: “Trie we then—if now their hearts will leave “Their citie cleare, her cleare stay [i. e. Hector] slaine.” A stay, however, seems to have been meant for something active, in the following passage in the 6th canto of Drayton's Barons' Wars: “Oh could ambition apprehend a stay, “The giddy course it wandereth in, to guide.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. x.: “Till riper yeares he raught, and stronger stay.” Shakspeare, therefore, who uses wrongs for wrongers, &c. &c. might have used a stay for a stayer. Churchyard, in his Siege of Leeth, 1575, having occasion to speak of a trumpet that sounded to proclaim a truce, says— “This staye of warre made many men to muse.” I am therefore convinced that the first line of Faulconbridge's speech needs no emendation. Shakspeare seems to have taken the hint of this speech from the following in The Famous History of Thomas Stukely, 1605, bl. l.: “Why here's a gallant, here's a king indeed! “He speaks all Mars:—tut, let me follow such “A lad as this:—This is pure fire: “Ev'ry look he casts, flasheth like lightning; “There's mettle in this boy. “He brings a breath that sets our sails on fire: “Why now I see we shall have cuffs indeed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 6Lest zeal, now melted, &c.] We have here a very unusual, and, I think, not very just image of zeal, which, in its highest degree, is represented by others as a flame, but by Shakspeare, as a frost. To repress zeal, in the language of others, is to cool; in Shakspeare's to melt it: when it exerts its utmost power it is commonly said to flame, but by Shakspeare to be congealed. Johnson. Sure the poet means to compare zeal to metal in a state of fusion, and not to dissolving ice. Steevens. The allusion, I apprehend, is to dissolving ice; and if this passage be compared with others in our author's plays, it will not, I think, appear liable to Dr. Johnson's objection.—The sense, I conceive, is, “Lest the now zealous and to you well-affected heart of Philip, which but lately was cold and hard as ice, and has newly been melted and softened, should by the breath of supplications of Constance, and pity for Arthur, again become congealed and frozen.” I once thought that “the windy breath of soft petitions,” &c. should be coupled with the preceding words, and related to the proposal made by the citizen of Angiers; but now I believe that they were intended to be connected, in construction, with the following line.—In a subsequent scene we find a similar thought couched in nearly the same expressions: “This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts “Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal.” Here Shakspeare does not say that zeal, when “congealed, exerts its utmost power,” but on the contrary, that when it is congealed or frozen, it ceases to exert itself at all; it is no longer zeal. We again meet with the same allusion in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; This makes bold mouths; “Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze “Allegiance in them.” Both zeal and allegiance therefore, we see, in the language of Shakspeare, are in their highest state of exertion, when melted; and repressed or diminished, when frozen. The word freeze, in the passages just quoted, shows that the allusion is not, as has been suggested, to metals, but to ice. The obscurity of the present passage arises from our author's use of the word zeal, which is, as it were, personified. Zeal, if it be understood strictly, cannot “cool and congeal again to what it was,” (for when it cools, it ceases to be zeal,) though a person who is become warm and zealous in a cause, may afterwards become cool and indifferent, as he was, before he was warmed.—“To what it was,” however, in our author's licentious language, may mean, “to what it was, before it was zeal.” Malone. The windy breath that will cool metals in a state of fusion, produces not the effects of frost. I am, therefore, yet to learn, how “the soft petitions of Constance, and pity for Arthur,” (two gentle agents) were competent to the act of freezing.—There is surely somewhat of impropriety in employing Favonius to do the work of Boreas. Steevens.

Note return to page 500 7Can in this book of beauty read,] So, in Pericles, 1609: “Her face, the book of praises,” &c. Again, in Macbeth: “Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men “May read strange matters.” Malone.

Note return to page 501 8For Anjou,] In old editions: “For Angiers, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, “And all that we upon this side the sea, “(Except this city now by us besieg'd,) “Find liable,” &c. What was the city besieged but Angiers? King John agrees to give up all he held in France, except the city of Angiers, which he now besieged and laid claim to. But could he give up all except Angiers, and give up that too? Anjou was one of the provinces which the English held in France. Theobald. Mr. Theobald's emendation is confirmed both by the context and by the anonymous King John, printed in 1591. See the next page. See also p. 231, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 502 9Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.] So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; to sit and draw “His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, “In our heart's table.” Table is picture, or, rather, the board or canvas on which any object is painted. Tableau, Fr. Steevens.

Note return to page 503 1&lblank; Volquessen,] This is the ancient name for the country now called the Vexin; in Latin, Pagus Velocassinus. That part of it called the Norman Vexin, was in dispute between Philip and John. Steevens. This and the subsequent line (except the words, “do I give,”) are taken from the old play. Malone.

Note return to page 504 2&lblank; Young princes, close your hands.] See The Winter's Tale, vol. xiv. p. 246, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 505 3&lblank; I am well assur'd, That I did so, when I was first assur'd.] Assur'd is here used both in its common sense, and in an uncommon one, where it signifies affianced, contracted. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; called me Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 506 4She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent.] Passionate, in this instance, does not signify disposed to anger, but a prey to mournful sensations. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money: “&lblank; Thou art passionate, “Hast been brought up with girls.” Steevens. Again, in the old play entitled The true Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, 1600: “Tell me, good madam, “Why is your grace so passionate of late?” Malone.

Note return to page 507 5&lblank; departed with a part:] To part and to depart were formerly synonymous. So, in Every Man in his Humour: “Faith, sir, I can hardly depart with ready money.” Again, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “She'll serve under him till death us depart.” Steevens. So, in Love's Labour Lost, vol. iv. p. 314: “Which we much rather had depart withal.” Malone.

Note return to page 508 6&lblank; rounded in the ear &lblank;] i. e. whispered in the ear. This phrase is frequently used by Chaucer, as well as later writers. So, in Lingua, or A Combat of the Tongue, &c. 1607: “I help'd Herodotus to pen some part of his Muses, lent Pliny ink to write his history, and rounded Rabelais in the ear when he historified Pantagruel.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “Forthwith Revenge she rounded me i' th' ear.” Steevens. So, in The Winter's Tale, vol. xiv. p. 257, n. 6. “They're here with me already: whispering, rounding, “Sicilia is a so-forth.” See an explanation of the word and its etymology in a letter from Sir Henry Spelman. Wormii Literatura Runica Hafniæ, 1651, p. 4. Boswell.

Note return to page 509 7Who having no external thing to lose But the word maid,—cheats the poor maid of that;] The construction here appears extremely harsh to our ears, yet I do not believe there is any corruption; for I have observed a similar phraseology in other places in these plays. The construction is— Commodity, he that wins of all,—he that cheats the poor maid of that only external thing she has to lose, namely, the word maid, i. e. her chastity. Who having is used as the absolute case, in the sense of “they having &lblank;” and the words “who having no external thing to lose but the word maid,” are in some measure parenthetical; yet they cannot with propriety be included in a parenthesis, because then there would remain nothing to which the relative that at the end of the line could be referred. In The Winter's Tale are the following lines, in which we find a similar phraseology: “&lblank; This your son-in-law, “And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) “Is troth-plight to your daughter.” Here the pronoun whom is used for him, as who, in the passage before us, is used for they. Malone.

Note return to page 510 8Commodity, the bias of the world;] Commodity is interest. So, in Damon and Pythias, 1582: “&lblank; for vertue's sake only, “They would honour friendship, and not for commoditie.” Again, “I will use his friendship to mine own commoditie.” Steevens. So, in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “O the world is like a byas bowle, and it runs all on the rich men's sides.” Henderson.

Note return to page 511 9&lblank; this broker,] A broker in old language meant a pimp or procuress. See a note on Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 224: “Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 512 1&lblank; from his own determined aid,] The word eye, in the line preceding, and the word own, which can ill agree with aid, induces me to think that we ought to read—“his own determined aim,” instead of aid. His own aid is little better than nonsense. M. Mason.

Note return to page 513 2&lblank; clutch my hand.] To clutch my hand, is to clasp close. So, in Measure for Measure: “putting the hand into the pocket, and extracting it clutched.” Again, in Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “The fist of strenuous vengeance is clutch'd.”

Note return to page 514 3But for, &c.] i. e. because. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “I curse myself, for they are sent by me.” Reed. Again, in Othello: “&lblank; or for I am declin'd “Into the vale of years.” Malone.

Note return to page 515 4In the old copy the second Act extends to the end of the speech of Lady Constance, in the next scene, at the conclusion of which she throws herself on the ground. The present division, which was made by Mr. Theobald, and has been adopted by the subsequent editors, is certainly right. Malone. See Mr. Theobald's note, p. 265. Steevens.

Note return to page 516 5For I am sick, and capable of fears;] i. e. I have a strong sensibility; I am tremblingly alive to apprehension. So, in Hamlet: “His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, “Would make them capable.” Malone.

Note return to page 517 6A widow,] This was not the fact. Constance was at this time married to a third husband, Guido, brother to the Viscount of Touars. She had been divorced from her second husband, Ranulph, Earl of Chester. Malone.

Note return to page 518 7Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?] This seems to have been imitated by Marston, in his Insatiate Countess, 1603: “Then how much more in me, whose youthful veins, “Like a proud river, o'erflow their bounds &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 519 8Be these sad signs &lblank;] The sad signs are, the shaking of his head, the laying his hand on his breast, &c. We have again the same words in our author's Venus and Adonis: “So she, at these sad signs exclaims on death.” Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read—Be these sad sighs— &c. Malone.

Note return to page 520 9If thou, &c.] Massinger appears to have copied this passage in The Unnatural Combat: “&lblank; If thou hadst been born “Deform'd and crooked in the features of “Thy body, as the manners of thy mind; “Moor-lip'd, flat-nos'd, &c. &c. “I had been blest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 521 1Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “The blemish that will never be forgot, “Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot.” Malone.

Note return to page 522 2sightless &lblank;] The poet uses sightless for that which we now express by unsightly, disagreeable to the eyes. Johnson.

Note return to page 523 3&lblank; swart,] Swart is brown, inclining to black. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act I. Sc. II.: “And whereas I was black and swart before.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors, vol. iv. p. 209: “Swart like my shoe, but her face nothing so clean kept.” Steevens.

Note return to page 524 4&lblank; prodigious,] That is, portentous, so deformed as to be taken for a foretoken of evil. Johnson. In this sense it is used by Decker, in the first part of The Honest Whore, 1604: “&lblank; yon comet shews his head again; “Twice hath he thus at cross-turns thrown on us “Prodigious looks.” Again, in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1607: “Over whose roof hangs this prodigious comet.” Again, in The English Arcadia, by Jarvis Markham, 1607: “O, yes, I was prodigious to thy birth right, and as a blazing star at thine unlook'd for funeral.” Steevens.

Note return to page 525 5&lblank; makes his owner stout.] The old editions have—“makes its owner stoop.” The emendation is Sir T. Hanmer's. Johnson. So, in Daniel's Civil Wars, b. vi.: “Full with stout grief and with disdainful woe.” Steevens. Our author has rendered this passage obscure, by indulging himself in one of those conceits in which he too much delights, and by bounding rapidly, with his usual licence, from one idea to another. This obscurity induced Sir T. Hanmer, for stoop, to substitute stout; a reading that has been too hastily adopted in the subsequent editions. The confusion arises from the poet's having personified grief in the first part of the passage, and supposing the afflicted person to be bowed to the earth by that pride or haughtiness which Grief, which he personifies, is said to posses; and by making the afflicted person, in the latter part of the passage, actuated by this very pride, and exacting the same kind of obeisance from others, that Grief has exacted from her.—“I will not go (says Constance) to these kings; I will teach my sorrows to be proud: for Grief is proud, and makes the afflicted stoop; therefore here I throw myself, and let them come to me.” Here, had she stopped, and thrown herself on the ground, and had nothing more been added, however we might have disapproved of the conceit, we should have had no temptation to disturb the text. But the idea of throwing herself on the ground suggests a new image; and because her stately grief is so great that nothing but the huge earth can support it, she considers the ground as her throne; and having thus invested herself with regal dignity, she, as queen in misery, as possessing (like Imogen) “the supreme crown of grief,” calls on the princes of the world to bow down before her, as she has herself been bowed down by affliction. Such, I think, was the process that passed in the poet's mind; which appears to me so clearly to explain the text, that I see no reason for departing from it. Malone. I am really surprized that Mr. Malone should endeavour, by one elaborate argument, to support the old debasing reading. A pride which makes the owners stoop is a kind of pride I have never heard of; and though grief, in a weaker degree, and working in weaker minds, may depress the spirits, despair, such as the haughty Constance felt at this time, must naturally rouse them. This distinction is accurately pointed out by Johnson, in his observations on this passage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 526 6To me, and to the state of my great grief, Let kings assemble;] In Much Ado About Nothing, the father of Hero, depressed by her disgrace, declares himself so subdued by grief, that a thread may lead him. How is it that grief, in Leonato and Lady Constance, produces effects directly opposite, and yet both agreeable to nature? Sorrow softens the mind while it is yet warmed by hope, but hardens it when it is congealed by despair. Distress, while there remains any prospect of relief, is weak and flexible, but when no succour remains, is fearless and stubborn: angry alike at those that injure, and at those that do not help; careless to please where nothing can be gained, and fearless to offend when there is nothing further to be dreaded. Such was this writer's knowledge of the passions. Johnson.

Note return to page 527 7&lblank; here I and sorrows sit;] Thus the old copy. Perhaps we should read—“Here I and sorrow sit.” Our author might have intended to personify sorrow, as Marlowe had done before him, in his King Edward II.: “While I am lodg'd within this cave of care, “Where Sorrow at my elbow still attends.” The transcriber's ear might easily have deceived him, the two readings, when spoken, sounding exactly alike. So, we find, in the quarto copy of King Henry IV. Part I.: “The mailed Mars shall on his altars sit &lblank;.” instead of—shall on his altar sit. Again, in the quarto copy of the same play we have—monstrous scantle, instead of—monstrous cantle. In this conjecture I had once great confidence; but, a preceding line— “I will instruct my sorrows to be proud,” now appears to me to render it somewhat disputable. Perhaps our author here remembered the description of Elizabeth, the widow of King Edward IV. given in an old book, that, I believe, he had read—“The Queen sat alone below on the rushes, al desolate and dismaide; whom the Archbishop comforted in the best manner that he coulde.” Continuation of Harding's Chronicle, 1543. So also, in a book already quoted, that Shakspeare appears to have read, A compendious and most marvelous History of the latter Times of the Jewes Commonweale: “All those things when I Joseph heard tydings of, I tare my head with my hand, and cast ashes upon my beard, sitting in great sorrow upon the ground.” Malone.

Note return to page 528 8&lblank; bid kings come bow to it.] I must here account for the liberty I have taken to make a change in the division of the second and third Acts. In the old editions, the second Act was made to end here; though it is evident Lady Constance here, in her despair, seats herself on the floor: and she must be supposed, as I formerly observed, immediately to rise again, only to go off and end the Act decently; or the flat scene must shut her in from the sight of the audience, an absurdity I cannot wish to accuse Shakspeare of. Mr. Gildon, and some other criticks, fancied, that a considerable part of the second Act was lost, and that the chasm began here. I had joined in this suspicion of a scene or two being lost, and unwittingly drew Mr. Pope into this error. “It seems to be so, (says he,) and it were to be wish'd the restorer (meaning me) could supply it.” To deserve this great man's thanks, I will venture at the task; and hope to convince my readers that nothing is lost; but that I have supplied the suspected chasm, only by rectifying the division of the Acts. Upon looking a little more narrowly into the constitution of the play, I am satisfied that the third Act ought to begin with that scene which has hitherto been accounted the last of the second Act: and my reasons for it are these. The match being concluded, in the scene before that, betwixt the Dauphin and Blanch, a messenger is sent for Lady Constance to King Philip's tent, for her to come to Saint Mary's church to the solemnity. The princes all go out, as to the marriage; and the Bastard staying a little behind, to descant on interest and commodity, very properly ends the Act. The next scene then, in the French king's tent, brings us Salisbury delivering his message to Constance, who, refusing to go to the solemnity, sets herself down on the floor. The whole train returning from the church to the French king's pavilion, Philip expresses such satisfaction on occasion of the happy solemnity of that day, that Constance rises from the floor, and joins in the scene by entering her protest against their joy, and cursing the business of the day. Thus, I conceive, the scenes are fairly continued, and there is no chasm in the action, but a proper interval made both for Salisbury's coming to Lady Constance, and for the solemnization of the marriage. Besides, as Faulconbridge is evidently the poet's favourite character, it was very well judged to close the Act with his soliloquy. Theobald. This whole note seems judicious enough; but Mr. Theobald forgets there were, in Shakspeare's time, no moveable scenes in common playhouses. Johnson. It appears, from many passages, that the ancient theatres had the advantages of machinery as well as the more modern stages. See a note on the fourth scene of the fifth Act of Cymbeline. How happened it that Shakspeare himself should have mentioned the act of shifting scenes, if in his time there were no scenes capable of being shifted! Thus, in the chorus to King Henry V.: “Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.” This phrase was hardly more ancient than the custom which it describes. Steevens. See this question fully discussed in The History of the Stage, vol. iii. Boswell.

Note return to page 529 9To solemnize this day, &c.] From this passage Rowe seems to have borrowed the first lines of his Fair Penitent. Johnson. The first lines of Rowe's tragedy— “Let this auspicious day be ever sacred,” &c. are apparently taken from Dryden's version of the second Satire of Persius: “Let this auspicious morning be exprest,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 530 1&lblank; and plays the alchymist;] Milton has borrowed this thought: “&lblank; when with one virtuous touch “Th' arch-chemic sun,” &c. Paradise Lost, b. iii. Steevens. So, in our author's 33d Sonnet: “Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy.” Malone.

Note return to page 531 2Shall never see it but a holyday.] So, in The Famous Historie of George Lord Fauconbridge, 1616; “This joyful day of their arrival [that of Richard I. and his mistress, Clarabel,] was by the king and his counsell canonized for a holy-day.” Malone.

Note return to page 532 3A wicked day, &c.] There is a passage in The Honest Whore, by Decker, 1604, so much resembling the present, that I cannot forbear quoting it: “Curst be that day for ever, that robb'd her “Of breath, and me of bliss! henceforth let it stand “Within the wizzard's book (the kalendar) “Mark'd with a marginal finger, to be chosen “By thieves, by villains, and black murderers, “As the best day for them to labour in. “If henceforth this adulterous bawdy world “Be got with child with treason, sacrilege, “Atheism, rapes, treacherous friendship, perjury, “Slander, (the beggars sin,) lies, (the sin of fools,) “Or any other damn'd impieties, “On Monday let them be delivered,” &c. Henderson.

Note return to page 533 4&lblank; high tides,] i. e. solemn seasons, times to be observed above others. Steevens.

Note return to page 534 5Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;] In allusion (as Mr. Upton has observed) to Job, iii. 3: “Let the day perish,” &c. and v. 6: “Let it not be joined to the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months.” Malone. In The Fair Penitent, the imprecation of Calista on the night that betrayed her to Lothario, is chiefly borrowed from this and subsequent verses in the same chapter of Job. Steevens.

Note return to page 535 6&lblank; prodigiously be cross'd:] i. e. be disappointed by the production of a prodigy, a monster. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Nor mark prodigious, such as are “Despised in nativity.” Steevens.

Note return to page 536 7But on this day, &c.] That is, except on this day. Johnson. In the ancient almanacks, (several of which I have in my possession,) the days supposed to be favourable or unfavourable to bargains, are distinguished among a number of other particulars of the like importance. This circumstance is alluded to in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “By the almanack, I think “To choose good days and shun the critical.” Again, in The Elder Brother of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; an almanack “Which thou art daily poring in, to pick out “Days of iniquity to cozen fools in.” Steevens. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Let this pernicious hour “Stand, aye, accursed in the calendar.” Malone.

Note return to page 537 8You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit, Resembling majesty;] i. e. a false coin. A counterfeit formerly signified also a portrait.—A representation of the king being usually impressed on his coin, the word seems to be here used equivocally. Malone.

Note return to page 538 9Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd, and tried,] Being touch'd—signifies, having the touchstone applied to it. The two last words—and tried, which create a redundancy of measure, should, as Mr. Ritson observes, be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 539 1You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours:] I am afraid here is a clinch intended. “You came in war to destroy my enemies, but now you strengthen them in embraces.” Johnson.

Note return to page 540 2Wear out the day &lblank;] Old copy—days. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 541 3Set armed discord, &c.] Shakspeare makes this bitter curse effectual. Johnson.

Note return to page 542 4O Lymoges! O Austria!] The propriety or impropriety of these titles, which every editor has suffered to pass unnoted, deserves a little consideration. Shakspeare has, on this occasion, followed the old play, which at once furnished him with the character of Faulconbridge, and ascribed the death of Richard I. to the duke of Austria. In the person of Austria he has conjoined the two well-known enemies of Cœur-de-lion. Leopold, duke of Austria, threw him into prison, in a former expedition [in 1193]; but the castle of Chaluz, before which he fell [in 1199] belonged to Vidomar, viscount of Limoges; and the archer who pierced his shoulder with an arrow (of which wound he died) was Bertrand de Gourdon. The editors seem hitherto to have understood Lymoges as being an appendage to the title of Austria, and therefore enquired no further about it. Holinshed says on this occasion: “The same yere, Philip, bastard sonne to King Richard, to whom his father had given the castell and honor of Coinacke, killed the viscount of Limoges, in revenge of his father's death,” &c. Austria, in the old play, [printed in 1591] is called Lymoges, the Austrich duke. With this note I was favoured by a gentleman to whom I have yet more considerable obligations in regard of Shakspeare. His extensive knowledge of history and manners has frequently supplied me with apt and necessary illustrations, at the same time that his judgement has corrected my errors; yet such has been his constant solicitude to remain concealed, that I know not but I may give offence while I indulge my own vanity in affixing to this note the name of my friend, Henry Blake, Esq. Steevens.

Note return to page 543 5&lblank; doff it for shame,] To doff is to do off, to put off. So, in Fuimus Troes, 1633: “Sorrow must doff her sable weeds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 6And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.] When fools were kept for diversion in great families, they were distinguished by a calf's-skin coat, which had the buttons down the back; and this they wore that they might be known for fools, and escape the resentment of those whom they provoked with their waggeries. In a little penny book, intitled The Birth, Life, and Death, of John Franks, with the Pranks he Played through a meer Fool, mention is made in several places of a calf's-skin. In chap. x. of this book, Jack is said to have made his appearance at his lord's table, having then a new calf-skin, red and white spotted. This fact will explain the sarcasm of Constance, and Faulconbridge, who mean to call Austria a fool. Sir J. Hawkins. I may add, that the custom is still preserved in Ireland; and the fool, in any of the legends which the mummers act at Christmas, always appears in a calf's or cow's skin. In the prologue to Wily Beguiled, are the two following passages: “I'll make him do penance upon the stage in a calf's-skin.” Again: “His calf's-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd,” Again, in the play: “I'll come wrapp'd in a calf's-skin, and cry bo, bo.”— Again: “I'll wrap me in a rousing calf-skin suit, and come like some Hobgoblin.”—“I mean my Christmas calf's-skin suit.” Steevens. It does not appear that Constance means to call Austria a fool, as Sir John Hawkins would have it; but she certainly means to call him coward, and to tell him that a calf's-skin would suit his recreant limbs better than a lion's. They still say of dastardly person that he is a calf-hearted fellow; and a run-away school boy is usually called a great calf. Ritson. The speaker in the play [Wily Beguiled] is Robin Goodfellow. Perhaps, as has been suggested, Constance, by cloathing Austria in a calf's-skin, means only to insinuate that he is a coward. The word recreant seems to favour such a supposition. Malone.

Note return to page 545 7Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.] Here Mr. Pope inserts the following speeches form the old play of King John, printed in 1591, before Shakspeare appears to have commenced a writer: “Aust. Methinks, that Richard's pride, and Richard's fall, “Should be a precedent to fright you all. “Faulc. What words are these? how do my sinews shake! “My father's foe clad in my father's spoil! “How doth Alecto whisper in my ears, “Delay not, Richard, kill the villain straight; “Disrobe him of the matchless monument, “Thy father's triumph o'er the savages!— “Now by his soul I swear, my father's soul, “Twice will I not review the morning's rise, “Till I have torn that trophy from thy back, “And split thy heart for wearing it so long.” Steevens. I cannot by any means, approve of the insertion of these lines from the other play. If they were necessary to “explain the ground of the bastard's quarrel to Austria,” as Mr. Pope supposes, they should rather be inserted in the first scene of the second Act, at the time of the first altercation between the Bastard and Austria. But indeed the ground of their quarrel seems to be as clearly expressed in the first scene as in these lines; so that they are unnecessary in either place; and therefore, I think, should be thrown out of the text, as well as the three other lines, which have been inserted, with as little reason, in Act III. Sc. II.: “Thus hath King Richards,” &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 546 8What earthly, &c.] This must have been at the time when it was written, in our struggles with popery, a very captivating scene. So many passages remain in which Shakspeare evidently takes his advantage of the facts then recent, and of the passions then in motion, that I cannot but suspect that time has obscured much of his art, and that many allusions yet remain undiscovered, which perhaps may be gradually retrieved by succeeding commentators. Johnson. The speech stands thus in the old spurious play: “And what hast thou, or the pope thy master, to do, to demand of me how I employ mine own? Know, sir priest, as I honour the church and holy churchmen, so I scorne to be subject to the greatest prelate in the world. Tell thy master so from me; and say, John of England said it, that never an Italian priest of them all, shall either have tythe, toll, or polling penny out of England; but as I am king, so will I reign next under God, supreme head both over spiritual and temporal: and he that contradicts me in this, I'll make him hop headless.” Steevens. “What earthly name to interrogatories, “Can task the free breath,” &c. i. e. ‘What earthly name, subjoined to interrogatories, can force a king to speak and answer them?’ The old copy reads—earthy. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. It has also tast instead of task, which was substituted by Mr. Theobald. Breath for speech is common with our author. So, in a subsequent part of this scene: “The latest breath that gave the sound of words.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice, “breathing courtesy,” for verbal courtesy. Malone. The emendation [task] may be justified by the following passage in King Henry IV. Part I.: “How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt?” Again, in King Henry V.: “That task our thoughts concerning us and France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 547 9That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life.] This may allude to the bull published against Queen Elizabeth. Or we may suppose, since we have no proof that this play appeared in its present state before the reign of King James, that it was exhibited soon after the popish plot. I have seen a Spanish book in which Garnet, Faux, and their accomplices, are registered as saints. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is incorrect in supposing that there is no proof that this play appeared before the reign of King James. It is mentioned by Meres in the year 1598: but if any allusion to his own times was intended by the author of the old play, (for this speech is formed on one in King John, 1591,) it must have been to the bull of Pope Pius the Fifth, 1569: “Then I Pandulph of Padua, legate from the Apostolike sea, doe in the name of Saint Peter, and his successor, our holy father Pope Innocent, pronounce thee accursed, discharging every of thy subjects of all dutie and fealtie that they do owe to thee, and pardon and forgivenesse of sinne to those or them whatsoever which shall carrie armes against thee or murder thee. This I pronounce, and charge all good men to abhorre thee as an excommunicate person.” Malone.

Note return to page 548 1Your breeches best may carry them.] Perhaps there is somewhat proverbial in this sarcasm. So, in the old play of King Leir, 1605: “Mum. Well I have a payre of slops for the nonce, “Will hold all your mocks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 549 2Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,] It is a political maxim, that kingdoms are never married. Lewis, upon the wedding, is for making war upon his new relations. Johnson.

Note return to page 550 3&lblank; the devil tempts thee here, In likeness of a new untrimmed bride.] Though all the copies concur in this reading, yet as untrimmed cannot bear any signification to square with the sense required, I cannot help thinking it a corrupted reading. I have ventured to throw out the negative, and read: “In likeness of a new and trimmed bride.” i. e. of a new bride, and one decked and adorned as well by art as nature. Theobald. Mr. Theobald says, “that as untrimmed cannot bear any signification to square with the sense required,” it must be corrupt; therefore he will cashier it, and read—and trimmed; in which he is followed by the Oxford editor: but they are both too hasty. It squares very well with the sense, and signifies unsteady. The term is taken from navigation. We say too, in a similar way of speaking, not well manned. Warburton. I think Mr. Theobald's correction more plausible than Dr. Warburton's explanation. A commentator should be grave, and therefore I can read these notes with proper severity of attention; but the idea of trimming a lady to keep her steady, would be too risible for any common power of face. Johnson. Trim is dress. An untrimmed bride is a bride undrest. Could the tempter of mankind assume a semblance in which he was more likely to be successful? But notwithstanding what Aristænetus assures us concerning Lais—&gres;&grn;&grd;&gre;&grd;&gru;&grm;&grea;&grn;&grh; &grm;&greg;&grn;, &grer;&gru;&grp;&grr;&gro;&grs;&grw;&grp;&gro;&grt;&graa;&grt;&grh; &grd;&grea;&grcolon; &grer;&grk;&grd;&gruc;&grs;&gra; &grd;&grea; &grora;&grl;&grh; &grp;&grr;&groa;&grs;&grw;&grp;&gro;&grn; &grf;&gra;&gria;&grn;&gre;&grt;&gra;&gri;,—that drest she was beautiful, undrest she was all beauty—by Shakspeare's epithet—untrimmed, I do not mean absolutely naked, but Nuda pedem, discincta sinum, spoliata lacertos; in short, whatever is comprized in Lothario's idea of unattired. Non mihi sancta Diana placet, nec nuda Cythere;   Illa voluptatis nil habet, hæc nimium. The devil (says Constance) raises to your imagination your bride disencumbered of the forbidding forms of dress, and the memory of my wrongs is lost in the anticipation of future enjoyment. Ben Jonson in his New Inn, says: “Bur. Here's a lady gay. “Tip. A well-trimm'd lady!” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act II.: “Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love.” Again, in Reginald Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, 1514: “&lblank; a good huswife, and also well trimmed up in apparel.” Mr. Collins inclines to a colder interpretation, and is willing to suppose that by an “untrimmed bride” is meant ‘a bride unadorned with the usual pomp and formality of a nuptial habit.’ The propriety of this epithet he infers from the haste in which the match was made, and further justifies it from King John's preceding words: “Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, “To this unlook'd for, unprepared pomp.” Mr. Tollet is of the same opinion, and offers two instances in which untrimmed indicates a deshabille or a frugal vesture. In Minsheu's Dictionary, it signifies one not finely dressed or attired. Again, in Vives's Instruction of a Christian Woman, 1592, p. 98 and 99: “Let her [the mistress of the house] bee content with a maide not faire and wanton, that can sing a ballad with a clere voice, but sad, pale, and untrimmed.” Steevens. I incline to think that the transcriber's ear deceived him, and that we should read, as Mr. Theobald has proposed.— “&lblank; a new and trimmed bride.” The following passage in King Henry IV. Part I. appears to me strongly to support his conjecture: “When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,— “Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, “Fresh as a bridegroom &lblank;.” Again, more appositely, in Romeo and Juliet: “Go, waken Juliet; go, and trim her up; “Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; and forget “Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein “You made great Juno angry.” Again, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim &lblank;.” The freshness which our author has connected with the word trim, in the first and last of these passages, and the ‘laboursome and dainty trims that made great Juno angry,’ which surely a bride may be supposed most likely to indulge in, (however scantily Blanch's toilet may have been furnished in a camp,) prove, either that this emendation is right, or that Mr. Collins's interpretation of the word untrimmed is the true one. Minsheu's definition of untrimmed, “qui n'est point orné,—inornatus incultus,” as well as his explanation of the verb “to trim,” which, according to him, means the same as “to prank up,” may also be adduced to the same point. See his Dictionary, 1617. Mr. M. Mason justly observes, that “to trim means to dress out, but not to clothe; and, consequently, though it might mean unadorned, it cannot mean unclad, or naked.” Malone.

Note return to page 551 4&lblank; so strong in both,] I believe the meaning is, “love so strong in both parties.” Johnson. Rather, in hatred and in love; in deeds of amity or blood. Henley.

Note return to page 552 5&lblank; this kind regreet?] A regreet is an exchange of salutation. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “So bear our kind regreets to Hecuba.” Steevens.

Note return to page 553 6A cased lion &lblank;] The modern editors read—a chafed lion. I see little reason for change. “A cased lion” is ‘a lion irritated by confinement.’ So, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act I. Sc. III.: “So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch “That trembles under his devouring paws;” &c. Steevens. Again, in Rowley's When you See Me you Know Me, 1621: “The lyon in his cage is not so sterne “As royal Henry in his wrathful spleene.” Our author was probably thinking on the lions, which in his time, as at present, were kept in the Tower, in dens so small as fully to justify the epithet he has used. Malone.

Note return to page 554 7Is not amiss, when it is truly done;] This is a conclusion de travers. We should read: “Is yet amiss &lblank;,” The Oxford editor, according to his usual custom, will improve it further, and reads—most amiss. Warburton. I rather read: “Is't not amiss, when it is truly done?” as the alteration is less, and the sense which Dr. Warburton first discovered is preserved. Johnson. The old copies read: “Is not amiss, when it is truly done.” Pandulph, having conjured the King to perform his first vow to heaven,—to be champion of the church,—tells him, that what he has since sworn is sworn against himself, and therefore may not be performed by him: for that, says he, which you have sworn to do amiss, is not amiss, (i. e. becomes right) when it is done truly (that is, as he explains it, not done at all); and being not done, where it would be a sin to do it, the truth is most done when you do it not. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “It is religion to be thus forsworn.” Ritson. Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; she is fool'd “With a most false effect, and I the truer “So to be false with her.” By placing the second couplet of this sentence before the first, the passage will appear perfectly clear. “Where doing tends to ill,” where an intended act is criminal, the truth is most done, by not doing the act. The criminal act therefore which thou hast sworn to do, is not amiss, will not be imputed to you as a crime, if it be done truly, in the sense I have now affixed to truth; that is, if you do not do it. Malone.

Note return to page 555 8But thou hast sworn against religion; &c.] The propositions, that “the voice of the church is the voice of heaven,” and that “the Pope utters the the voice of the church,” neither of which Pandulph's auditors would deny, being once granted, the argument here used is irresistible; nor is it easy, notwithstanding the gingle, to enforce it with greater brevity or propriety: “But thou hast sworn against religion: “By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st: “And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth, “Against an oath the truth thou art unsure “To swear, swear only not to be forsworn.” “By what.” Sir T. Hanmer reads—By that. I think it should be rather by which. That is, “thou swear'st against the thing, by which thou swear'st; that is, “against religion.” The most formidable difficulty is in these lines: “And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth, “Against an oath the truth thou art unsure “To swear,” &c. This Sir T. Hanmer reforms thus: “And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth, “Against an oath; this truth thou art unsure “To swear,” &c. Dr. Warburton writes it thus: “Against an oath the truth thou art unsure &lblank;.” which leaves the passage to me as obscure as before. I know not whether there is any corruption beyond the omission of a point. The sense, after I had considered it, appeared to me only this: “In swearing by religion against religion, to which thou hast already sworn, thou makest an oath the security for thy faith against an oath already taken.” I will give, says he, a rule for conscience in these cases. Thou may'st be in doubt about the matter of an oath; “when thou swearest, thou may'st not be always sure to swear rightly;” but let this be thy settled principle, “swear only not to be forsworn:” let not the latter oaths be at variance with the former. Truth, through this whole speech, means rectitude of conduct. Johnson. I believe the old reading is right; and that the line “By what,” &c. is put on apposition with that which precedes it: “But thou hast sworn against religion; thou hast sworn, by what thou swearest, i. e. in that which thou hast sworn, against the thing thou swearest by; i. e. religion. Our author has many such elliptical expressions. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; Whoever the king favours, “The cardinal will quickly find employment [for], “And far enough from court too.” Again, ibidem: “This is about that which the bishop spake” [of]. Again, in King Richard III.: “True ornaments to know a holy man” [by]. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “A bed-swerver, even as bad as those “That vulgars give bold'st titles” [to]. Again, ibidem: “&lblank; the queen is spotless &lblank; “In this that you accuse her” [of]. Malone.

Note return to page 556 9&lblank; swear only not to be forsworn;] The old copy reads— swears, which, in my apprehension, shows that two half lines have been lost, in which the person supposed to swear was mentioned. When the same word is repeated in two succeeding lines, the eye of the compositor often glances from the first to the second, and in consequence the intermediate words are omitted. For what has been lost, it is now in vain to seek; I have therefore adopted the emendation made by Mr. Pope, which makes some kind of sense. Malone.

Note return to page 557 1&lblank; braying trumpets,] Bray appears to have been particularly applied to express the harsh grating sound of the trumpet. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. xii. st. 6: “And when it ceast shrill trompets loud did bray.” Again, b. iv. c. iv. st. 48: “Then shrilling trompets loudly 'gan to bray.” And elsewhere in the play before us: “&lblank; Hard-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray.” Again, in Hamlet: “The trumpet shall bray out &lblank;.” Gawin Douglas, in his translation of the Æneid, renders “sub axe tonanti &lblank;.” (lib. v. v. 820:) “Under the brayand quhelis and assiltre.” Blackmore is ridiculed in the Dunciad, (b. ii.) for endeavouring to ennoble this word by applying it to the sound of armour, war, &c. He might have pleaded these authorities, and that of Milton: “Arms on armour clashing bray'd “Horrible discord.” Paradise Lost, b. vi. v. 209. Nor did Gray, scrupulous as he was in language, reject it in The Bard: “Heard ye the din of battle bray?” Holt White.

Note return to page 558 2&lblank; be measures &lblank;] The measures, it has already been more than once observed, were a species of solemn dance in our author's time. This speech is formed on the following lines in the old play: “Blanch. And will your grace upon your wedding-day “Forsake your bride, and follow dreadful drums? “Phil. Drums shall be musick to this wedding-day.” Malone.

Note return to page 559 3I muse,] i. e. I wonder. Reed. So, in Middleton's Tragi-Coomodie, called The Witch: “And why thou staist so long, I muse, “Since the air's so sweet and good” Steevens.

Note return to page 560 4They whirl asunder, and dismember me.] Alluding to a well-known Roman punishment: &lblank; Metium in diversa quadrigæ Distulerant. Æneid, viii. 642. Steevens. See vol. xiv. p. 127, n. 3, where I have shewn that Shakspeare was much more likely to have alluded in cases of this sort to events which had happened in his own time than to the Roman history. Malone.

Note return to page 561 5Some airy devil &lblank;] Shakspeare here probably alludes to the distinctions and divisions of some of the demonologists, so much regarded in his time. They distributed the devils into different tribes and classes, each of which had its peculiar qualities, attributes, &c. These are described at length in Burton's Anatomie of Melancholy, Part I. sect. ii. p. 45, 1632: “Of these sublunary devils—Psellus makes six kinds; fiery, aeriall, terrestriall, watery, and subterranean devils, besides those faieries, satyres, nymphes,” &c. “Fiery spirits or divells are such as commonly worke by blazing starres, fire-drakes, and counterfeit sunnes and moones, and sit on ships' masts,” &c. &c. “Aeriall spirits or divells are such as keep quarter most part in the aire, cause many tempests, thunder and lightnings, teare oakes, fire steeples, houses, strike men and beasts, make it raine stones,” &c. Percy. There is a minute description of different devils or spirits, and their different functions, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication, 1592: With respect to the passage in question, take the following: “&lblank; the spirits of the aire will mixe themselves with thunder and lightning, and so infect the clyme where they raise any tempest, that sodainely great mortalitie shall ensue to the inhabitants. The spirits of fire have their mansions under the regions of the moone.” Henderson.

Note return to page 562 6While Philip breathes.] Here Mr. Pope, without authority, adds from the old play already mentioned: “Thus hath king Richard's son perform'd his vow, “And offer'd Austria's blood for sacrifice “Unto his father's ever-living soul.” Steevens.

Note return to page 563 7Hubert, keep this boy:] Thus the old copies. Mr. Tyrwhitt would read: “Hubert, keep thou this boy:”— Steevens.

Note return to page 564 8&lblank; Philip,] Here the King, who had knighted him by the name of Sir Richard, calls him by his former name. Steevens.

Note return to page 565 9My mother is assailed in our tent,] The author has not attended closely to the history. The Queen-mother, whom King John had made Regent in Anjou, was in possession of the town of Mirabeau, in that province. On the approach of the French army with Arthur at their head, she sent letters to King John to come to her relief; which he did immediately. As he advanced to the town, he encountered the army that lay before it, routed them, and took Arthur prisoner. The Queen in the mean while remained in perfect security in the castle of Mirabeau. Such is the best authenticated account. Other historians however say that Arthur took Eleanor prisoner. The author of the old play has followed them. In that piece Eleanor is taken by Arthur, and rescued by her son. Malone.

Note return to page 566 1Set thou at liberty:] The word thou (which is wanting in the old copy) was judiciously added, for the sake of metre, by Sir T. Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 567 2&lblank; the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon:] This word now seems a very idle term here, and conveys no satisfactory idea. An antithesis, and opposition of terms, so perpetual with our author, requires: “Must by the hungry war be fed upon.” War, demanding a large expence, is very poetically said to be hungry, and to prey on the wealth and fat of peace. Warburton. This emendation is better than the former word, but yet not necessary. Sir T. Hanmer reads—hungry maw, with less deviation from the common reading, but not with so much force or elegance as war. Johnson. Either emendation may be unnecessary. Perhaps, the “hungry now” is ‘this hungry instant.’ Shakspeare uses the word now as a substantive, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; till this very now, “When men were fond, I smil'd and wonder'd how.” Steevens. The meaning, I think, is, “&lblank; the fat ribs of peace must now be fed upon by the hungry troops,”—to whom some share of this ecclesiastical spoil would naturally fall. The expression, like many other of our author's, is taken from the sacred writings: “And there he maketh the hungry to dwell, that they may prepare a city for habitation.” 107th Psalm.—Again: “He hath filled the hungry with good things,” &c. St. Luke, i. 53. This interpretation is supported by the passage in the old play, which is here imitated; “Philip, I make thee chief in this affair; “Ransack their abbeys, cloysters, priories, “Convert their coin unto my soldiers' use.” When I read this passage in the old play, the first idea that suggested itself was, that a word had dropped out at the press, in the line before us, and that our author wrote: “Must by the hungry soldiers now be fed on.” But the interpretation above given renders any alteration unnecessary. Malone.

Note return to page 568 3Bell, book, and candle &lblank;] In an account of the Romish curse given by Dr. Grey, it appears that three candles were extinguished, one by one, in different parts of the execration. Johnson. I meet with the same expression in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “I'll have a priest shall mumble up a marriage “Without bell, book, or candle.” Steevens. In Archbishop Winchelsea's Sentences of Excommunication, anno 1298, (see Johnson's Ecclesiastical Laws, vol. ii.) it is directed that the sentence against infringers of certain articles should be “&lblank; throughout explained in order in English, with bells tolling, and candles lighted, that it may cause the greater dread; for laymen have greater regard to this solemnity, than to the effect of such sentences.” See Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. xii. p. 397, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 569 4&lblank; with some better time.] The old copy reads—tune. Corrected by Mr. Pope. The same mistake has happened in Twelfth Night. See that play, vol. xi. p. 397, n. 3. In Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. ult. we have—“This time goes manly,” instead of—“This tune goes manly.” Malone. In the hand-writing of Shakspeare's age, the words time and tune are scarcely to be distinguished from each other. Steevens.

Note return to page 570 5&lblank; full of gawds,] Gawds are any showy ornaments. So, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “To caper in his grave. and with vain gawds “Trick up his coffin.” See A Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 178, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 6Sound one into the drowsy race of night;] The word one is here, as in many other passages in these plays, written on in the old copy. Mr. Theobald made the correction. In Chaucer, and other old writers, one is usually written on. See Mr. Tyrwhitt's Glossary to The Canterbury Tales. So once was anciently written ons. And it should seem, from a quibbling passage in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, that one, in some counties at least, was pronounced, in our author's time, as if written on. Hence the transcriber's ear might easily have deceived him. One of the persons whom I employed to read aloud to me each sheet of the present work [Mr. Malone's edition, 1790] before it was printed off, constantly sounded the word one in this manner. He was a native of Herefordshire. The instances that are found in the original editions of our author's plays, in which on is printed instead of one, are so numerous, that there cannot, in my apprehension, be the smallest doubt that one is the true reading in the line before us. Thus, in Coriolanus, edit. 1623, p. 15: “&lblank; This double worship, &lblank; “Where on part does disdain with cause, the other “Insult without all reason.” Again, in Cymbeline, 1623, p. 380: “&lblank; perchance he spoke not; but “Like a full-acorn'd boar, a Jarmen on,” &c. Again, in Romeo and Juliet, 1623, p. 66: “And thou, and Romeo, press on heavie bier.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors, 1623, p. 94: “On, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel.” Again, in All's Well That End's Well, 1623, p. 240: “A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner,—but on that lies three thirds,” &c. Again, in Love's Labour's Lost, quarto, 1598: “On, whom the musick of his own vaine tongue &lblank;.” Again, ibid. edit. 1623, p. 113: “On, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes.” The same spelling is found in many other books. So, in Holland's Suetonius, 1606, p. 14: “&lblank; he caught from on of them a trumpet,” &c. I should not have produced so many passages to prove a fact of which no one can be ignorant, who has the slightest knowledge of the early editions of these plays, or of our older writers, had not the author of Remarks, &c. on the last Edition of Shakspeare, asserted, with that modesty and accuracy by which his pamphlet is distinguished, that the observation contained in the former part of this note was made by one totally unacquainted with the old copies, and that “it would be difficult to find a single instance” in which on and one are confounded in those copies. Mr. Theobald also proposed to read unto for into, which has been too hastily adopted; for into seems to have been frequently used for unto in Shakspeare's time. So, in Harsnet's Declaration, &c. 1603; “&lblank; when the nimble vice would skip up nimbly —into the devil's neck.” Again, in Daniel's Civil Wars, b. iv. folio, 1602: “She doth conspire to have him made away, “Thrust thereinto not only with her pride, “But by her father's counsel and consent.” Again, in our poet's King Henry V.: “Which to reduce into our former favour &lblank;.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; Yes, that goodness “Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one.” i. e. into one man. Here we should now certainly write “unto one.” Independently, indeed, of what has been now stated, into ought to be restored. So, Marlowe, in his King Edward II. 1598: “I'll thunder such a peal into his ears,” &c. So also Bishop Hall, in his Heaven upon Earth: “These courses are not incident into an almighty power, who having the command of all vengeance, can smite when he list!” Malone. I should suppose the meaning of—“Sound on,”to be this: ‘If the midnight bell, by repeated strokes, was to hasten away the race of beings who are busy at that hour, or quicken night itself in its progress;’ the morning bell (that is, the bell that strikes one,) could not, with strict propriety, be made the agent; for the bell has ceased to be in the service of night, when it proclaims the arrival of day. Sound on may also have a peculiar propriety, because, by the repetition of the strokes at twelve, it gives a much more forcible warning than when it only strikes one. Such was once my opinion concerning the old reading; but on re-consideration, its propriety cannot appear more doubtful to any one than to myself. It is too late to talk of hastening the night, when the arrival of the morning is announced: and I am afraid that the repeated strokes have less of solemnity than the single notice, as they take from the horror and awful silence here described as so propitious to the dreadful purposes of the king. Though the hour of one be not the natural midnight, it is yet the most solemn moment of the poetical one; and Shakspeare himself has chosen to introduce his Ghost in Hamlet,— “The bell then beating one.” Shakspeare may be restored into obscurity. I retain Mr. Theobald's correction; for though “thundering a peal into a man's ears” is good English, I do not perceive that such an expression as “sounding one into a drowsy race,” is countenanced by any example hitherto produced. Steevens.

Note return to page 572 7&lblank; using conceit alone,] Conceit here, as in many other places, signifies conception, thought. So, in King Richard III.: “There's some conceit or other likes him well, “When that he bids good-morrow with such spirit.” Malone.

Note return to page 573 8&lblank; brooded &lblank;] So the old copy. Mr. Pope reads—broad-ey'd, which alteration, however elegant, may be unnecessary. All animals while brooded, i. e. “with a brood of young ones under their protection,” are remarkably vigilant.—The King says of Hamlet: “&lblank; there's something in his soul “O'er which his melancholy sits on brood.” In P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, a broodie hen is the term for a hen that sits on eggs. See p. 301, edit. 1601: Milton also, in L'Allegro, desires Melancholy to— “&lblank; Find out some uncouth cell “Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings:” plainly alluding to the watchfulness of fowls while they are sitting. Broad-eyed, however, is a compound epithet to be found in Chapman's version of the eighth Iliad: “And hinder broad-ey'd Jove's proud will &lblank;.” Steevens. Brooded, I apprehend, is here used, with our author's usual licence, for brooding; i. e. day, who is as vigilant, as ready with open eye to mark what is done in his presence, as an animal at brood. Shakspeare appears to have been so fond of domestick and familiar images, that one cannot help being surprized that Mr. Pope, in revising these plays, should have gained so little knowledge of his manner as to suppose any corruption here in the text. Malone. The same image is found in Beaumont and Fletcher's Borduca, Act IV. Sc. II.: “See how he broods the boy.” Again, in The Woman's Prize, Act I. Sc. I.: “This fellow broods his master.” Brooded is used for brooding by Shakspeare, (says Mr. Malone) with his usual licence. So delighted for delighting in Othello: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack.” Discontenting for discontented: “Your discontenting father strive to qualify.” And so in a multitude of other instances. Boswell. I am not thoroughly reconciled to this reading; but it would be somewhat improved by joining the words brooded and watchful by a hyphen—brooded-watchful. M. Mason.

Note return to page 574 9Remember.] This is one of the scenes to which may be promised a lasting commendation. Art could add little to its perfection; no change in dramatick taste can injure it; and time itself can substract nothing from its beauties. Steevens.

Note return to page 575 1For England, cousin:] The old copy— “For England, cousin, go:” I have omitted the last useless and redundant word, which the eye of the compositor seems to have caught from the preceding hemistich. Steevens. King John, after he had taken Arthur prisoner, sent him to the town of Falaise, in Normandy, under the care of Hubert, his Chamberlain; from whence he was afterwards removed to Rouen, and delivered to the custody of Robert de Veypont. Here he was secretly put to death. Malone.

Note return to page 576 2A whole armado &lblank;] This similitude, as little as it makes for the purpose in hand, was, I do not question, a very taking one when the play was first represented; which was a winter or two at most after the Spanish invasion in 1588. It was in reference likewise to that glorious period that Shakspeare concludes his play in that triumphant manner: “This England never did, nor never shall, “Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,” &c. But the whole play abounds with touches relative to the then posture of affairs. Warburton. This play, so far as I can discover, was not played till a long time after the defeat of the armado. The old play, I think, wants this simile. The commentator should not have affirmed what he can only guess. Johnson. Armado is a Spanish word signifying a fleet of war. The armado in 1588 was called so by way of distinction. Steevens.

Note return to page 577 3&lblank; of convicted sail &lblank;] Overpowered, baffled, destroyed. To convict and to convince were in our author's time synonymous. See Minsheu's Dictionary, 1617: “To convict, or convince, a Lat. convictus, overcome.” So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; their malady convinces “The great assay of art.” Mr. Pope, who ejected from the text almost every word that he did not understand, reads—collected sail; and the change was too hastily adopted by the subsequent editors. See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Convitto. Vanquished, convicted, convinced.” Malone.

Note return to page 578 4&lblank; in so fierce a cause,] We should read course, i. e. march. The Oxford editor condescends to this emendation. Warburton. Change is needless. A fierce cause is a cause conducted with precipitation. “Fierce wretchedness,” in Timon, is, hasty sudden misery. Steevens.

Note return to page 579 5&lblank; a grave unto a soul; Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath:] I think we should read earth. The passage seems to have been copied from Sir Thomas More: “If the body be to the soule a prison, how strait a prison maketh he the body, that stuffeth it with riff-raff, that the soule can have no room to stirre itself—but is, as it were, enclosed not in a prison, but in a grave.” Farmer. There is surely no need of change. “The vile prison of afflicted breath,” is the body, the prison in which the distressed soul is confined. We have the same image in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Now my soul's palace is become her prison.” Again, more appositely, in his Rape of Lucrece: “Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast “A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheath'd; “That blow did bail it from the deep unrest “Of that polluted prison where it breath'd.” Again, in Sir John Davies's Nosce Teipsum: “Yet in the body's prison so she lies, “As through the body's windows she must look.” Malone. Perhaps the old reading is justifiable. So, in Measure for Measure: “To be imprison'd in the viewless winds.” Steevens. It appears, from the amendment proposed by Farmer, and by the quotation adduced by Steevens in support of the old reading, that they both consider this passage in the same light, and suppose that King Philip intended to say, “that the breath was the prison of the soul;” but I think they have mistaken the sense of it; and that by “the vile prison of afflicted breath,” he means the same vile prison in which the breath is confined; that is, the body. In the second scene of the fourth Act, King John says to Hubert, speaking of what passed in his own mind: “Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, “This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, “Hostility and civil tumult reign.” And Hubert says, in the following scene: “If I, in act, consent, or sin of thought, “Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath “Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, “May hell want pains enough to torture me!” It is evident that, in this last passage, the breath is considered as embounded in the body; but I will not venture to assert that the same inference may with equal certainty be drawn from the former. M. Mason.

Note return to page 580 6No, I defy, &c.] To defy anciently signified to refuse. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I do defy thy commiseration.” Steevens.

Note return to page 581 7And stop this gap of breath &lblank;] The gap of breath is the mouth; the outlet from whence the breath issues. Malone.

Note return to page 582 8And buss thee as thy wife!] Thus the old copy. The word buss, however, being now only used in vulgar language, our modern editors have exchanged it for kiss. The former is used by Drayton, in the third canto of his Barons' Wars, where Queen Isabel says: “And we by signs sent many a secret buss.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. x.: “But every satyre first did give a busse “To Hellenore; so busses did abound.” Again, Stanyhurst, the translator of Virgil, 1582, renders &lblank; oscula libavit natæ Bust his prittye parrat prating, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 9Misery's love, &c.] Thou, death, who art courted by misery to come to his relief, O come to me. So before: “Thou hate and terror to prosperity.” Malone.

Note return to page 584 1&lblank; modern invocation.] It is hard to say what Shakspeare means by modern: it is not opposed to ancient. In All's Well That Ends Well, speaking of a girl in contempt, he uses this word: “her modern grace.” It apparently means something slight and inconsiderable. Johnson. Modern, is trite, ordinary, common. So, in As You Like It: “Full of wise saws, and modern instances.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “As we greet modern friends withal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 585 2Thou art not holy &lblank;] The word not, which is not in the old copy, (evidently omitted by the carelessness of the transcriber or compositor,) was inserted in the fourth folio. Malone. Perhaps our author wrote: “Thou art unholy,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 586 3Bind up those tresses:] It was necessary that Constance should be interrupted, because a passion so violent cannot be borne long. I wish the following speeches had been equally happy; but they only serve to show how difficult it is to maintain the pathetick long. Johnson.

Note return to page 587 4&lblank; wiry friends &lblank;] The old copy reads—wiry fiends. Wiry is an adjective used by Heywood, in his Silver Age, 1613: “My vassal furies, with their wiery strings, “Shall lash thee hence.” Steevens. Mr. Pope made the emendation. Malone. Fiends is obviously a typographical error. As the epithet wiry is here attributed to hair; so, in another description, the hair of Apollo supplies the office of wire. In The Instructions to the Commissioners for the Choice of a Wife for Prince Arthur, it is directed “to note the eye-browes” of the young Queen of Naples, (who, after the death of Arthur, was married to Henry VIII. and divorced by him for the sake of Anna Bulloygn). They answer, “Her browes are of a browne heare, very small, like a wyre of heare.” Thus also, Gascoigne: “First for her head, her hairs were not of gold, “But of some other mettall farre more fine, “Whereof each crinet seemed to behold, “Like glist'ring wyars against the sunne that shine.” Henley.

Note return to page 588 5To England, if you will.] Neither the French king nor Pandulph has said a word of England since the entry of Constance. Perhaps, therefore, in despair, she means to address the absent King John: “Take my son to England, if you will;” now that he is in your power, I have no prospect of seeing him again. It is, therefore, of no consequence to me where he is. Malone.

Note return to page 589 6&lblank; but yesterday suspire,] To suspire, in Shakspeare, I believe, only means to breathe. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Did he suspire, that light and weightless down “Perforce must move.” Again, in a Copy of Verses prefixed to Thomas Powell's Passionate Poet, 1601: “Beleeve it, I suspire no fresher aire, “Than are my hopes of thee, and they stand faire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 590 7&lblank; a gracious creature born.] Gracious, i. e. graceful. So, in Albion's Triumph, a Masque, 1631: “&lblank; on the which (the freeze) were festoons of several fruits in their natural colours, on which, in gracious postures, lay children sleeping.” Again, in the same piece: “&lblank; they stood about him, not in set ranks, but in several gracious postures.” Again, in Chapman's version of the eighteenth Iliad: “&lblank; then tumbled round, and tore, “His gracious curles.” Steevens. A passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from Marston's Malcontent, 1604, induces me to think that gracious likewise, in our author's time, included the idea of beauty: “&lblank; he is the most exquisite in forging of veins, spright'ning of eyes,—sleeking of skinnes, blushing of cheeks,—blanching and bleaching of teeth, that ever made an ould lady gracious by torch-light.” Malone.

Note return to page 591 8He talks to me, that never had a son.] To the same purpose Macduff observes— “He has no children.” This thought occurs also in King Henry VI. Part III. Steevens.

Note return to page 592 9Grief fills the room up of my absent child,] Perfruitur lachrymis, et amat pro conjuge luctum. Lucan, lib. ix. Maynard, a French poet, has the same thought: Qui me console, excite ma colere,   Et le repos est un bien que je crains: Mon dëuil me plaît, et me doit toujours plaire,   Il me tient lieu de celle que je plains. Malone.

Note return to page 593 1&lblank; had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort &lblank;] This is a sentiment which great sorrow always dictates. Whoever cannot help himself casts his eyes on others for assistance, and often mistakes their inability for coldness. Johnson.

Note return to page 594 2There's nothing in this, &c.] The young prince feels his defeat with more sensibility than his father. Shame operates most strongly in the earlier years; and when can disgrace be less welcome than when a man is going to his bride? Johnson.

Note return to page 595 3Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,] Our author here, and in another play, seems to have had the 90th Psalm in his thoughts. “For when thou art angry, all our days are gone, we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.” So again, in Macbeth: “Life's but a walking shadow;— “&lblank; it is a tale “Told by an ideot, full of sound and fury, “Signifying nothing.” Malone.

Note return to page 596 4&lblank; the sweet words taste,] The sweet word is life; which, says the speaker, is no longer sweet, yielding now nothing but shame and bitterness. Mr. Pope, with some plausibility, but certainly without necessity, reads—“the sweet world's taste.” Malone. I prefer Mr. Pope's reading, which is sufficiently justified by the following passage in Hamlet: “How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable “Seem to me all the uses of this world!” Our present rage for restoration from ancient copies may induce some of our readers to exclaim, with Virgil's Shepherd: Claudite jam rivos, pueri, sat prata biberunt. Steevens.

Note return to page 597 5How green, &c.] Hall, in his Chronicle of Richard III. says, “&lblank; what neede in that grene worlde the protector had,” &c. Henderson.

Note return to page 598 6John lays you plots;] That is, lays plots, which must be serviceable to you. Perhaps our author wrote—your plots. John is doing your business. Malone. The old reading is undoubtedly the true one. A similar phrase occurs in The First Part of King Henry VI.: “He writes me here,—that,” &c. Again, in the Second Part of the same play: “He would have carried you a fore-hand shaft,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 599 7&lblank; true blood,] The blood of him that has the just claim. Johnson. The expression seems to mean no more than innocent blood in general. Ritson.

Note return to page 600 8&lblank; No scape of nature,] The old copy reads—No scope, &c. Steevens. It was corrected by Mr. Pope. The word abortives, in the latter part of this speech, referring apparently to these scapes of nature, confirms the emendation that has been made. Malone. The author very finely calls a monstrous birth, an escape of nature, as if it were produced while she was busy elsewhere, or intent upon some other thing. Warburton.

Note return to page 601 9And, O, what better matter breeds for you, Than I have nam'd!] I believe we should read—lo! instead of O. M. Mason.

Note return to page 602 1&lblank; they would be as a call &lblank;] The image is taken from the manner in which birds are sometimes caught; one being placed for the purpose of drawing others to the net, by his note or call. Malone.

Note return to page 603 2Or, as a little snow,] Bacon, in his History of Henry VII. speaking of Simnel's march, observes, that “their snow-ball did not gather as it went.” Johnson.

Note return to page 604 3&lblank; strange actions:] Thus the old copy. The editor of the second folio, for strange, substituted strong; and the two words so nearly resemble each other that they might certainly have been easily confounded. But, in the present instance, I see no reason for departing from the reading of the original copy, which is perfectly intelligible. Malone. The repetition, in the second folio, is perfectly in our author's manner, and is countenanced by the following passage in King Henry V.: “Think we King Harry strong, “And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 605 4Northampton.] The fact is, as has been already stated, that Arthur was first confined at Falaise, and afterwards at Rouen, in Normandy, where he was put to death.—Our author has deviated, in this particular, from the history, and brought King John's nephew to England; but there is no circumstance, either in the original play, or in this of Shakspeare, to point out the particular castle in which he is supposed to be confined. The castle of Northampton has been mentioned, in some modern editions, as the place, merely because, in the first Act, King John seems to have been in that town. In the old copy there is no where any notice of place. Malone.

Note return to page 606 5Young gentlemen, &c.] It should seem that this affectation had found its way into England, as it is ridiculed by Ben Jonson, in the character of Master Stephen, in Every Man in his Humour, 1601. Again, in Questions concernyng Conie-hood, and the Nature of the Conie, &c. 1595: “That conie-hood which proceeds of melancholy, is, when in feastings appointed for merriment, this kind of conie-man sits like Mopsus or Corydon, blockish, never laughing, never speaking, but so bearishlie as if he would devour all the companie; which he doth to this end, that the guests might mutter how this his deep melancholy argueth great learning in him, and an intendment to most weighty affaires and heavenlie speculations.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Queen of Corinth, Onos says: “Come let's be melancholy.” Again, in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “Melancholy! is melancholy a word for a barber's mouth? Thou should'st say, heavy, dull, and doltish: melancholy is the crest of courtiers, and now every base companion, &c. says he is melancholy.” Again, in The Life and Death of the Lord Cromwell, 1613: “My nobility is wonderful melancholy.— “Is it not most gentleman-like to be melancholy?” Steevens. Lyly, in his Midas, ridicules the affectation of melancholy: “Now every base companion, being in his muble fubles, says, he is melancholy.—Thou should'st say thou art lumpish. If thou encroach on our courtly terms, weele trounce thee.” Farmer. I doubt whether our author had any authority for attributing this species of affectation to the French. He generally ascribes the manners of England to all other countries. Malone.

Note return to page 607 6&lblank; By my christendom,] This word is used, both here and in All's Well That Ends Well, for baptism, or rather the baptismal name: “&lblank; with a world “Of pretty, fond adoptious christendoms, “That blinking Cupid gossips.” Nor is this use of the word peculiar to our author. Lyly, his predecessor, has employed the word in the same way: “Concerning the body, as there is no gentlewoman so curious to have him in print, so there is no one so careless to have him a wretch,— only his right shape to show him a man, his christendome to prove his faith.” Euphues and his England, 1581. See also vol. x. p. 323, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 608 7&lblank; though heat red-hot,] The participle heat, though now obsolete, was in use in our author's time. See Twelfth-Night, vol. xi. p. 342, n. 8. So, in the sacred writings: “He commanded that they should heat the furnace one seven times more than it was wont to be heat.” Dan. iii. 19. Malone. Again, in Chapman's version of the 20th Iliad: “&lblank; but when blowes, sent from his fiery hand “(Thrice heat by slaughter of his friend)—.” Again, in the same translator's version of the 19th book of the Odyssey: “And therein bath'd, being temperately heat, “Her sovereign's feet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 609 8And quench his firy indignation,] The old copy—this fiery indignation. This phrase is from The New Testament, Heb. x. 27: “&lblank; a certain fearful looking-for of judgment, and fiery indignation &lblank;.” Steevens. We should read either “its fiery,” or “his fiery indignation.” The late reading was probably an error of the press. His is most in Shakspeare's style. M. Mason. By “this firy indignation,” however, he might mean,—‘the indignation thus produced by the iron being made red-hot for such an inhuman purpose.’ Malone.

Note return to page 610 9I would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's.] The old copy, and some of our modern editors, read: “I would not have believ'd him; no tongue but Hubert's.” The truth is, that the transcriber, not understanding the power of the two negatives not and no, (which are usually employed, not to affirm, but to deny more forcibly,) intruded the redundant pronoun him. As You Like It, affords an instance of the phraseology I have defended: “Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes “That can do hurt.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's former note on this passage is worth preservation. “Shakspeare probably meant this line to be broken off imperfectly; thus: “I would not have believ'd him; no tongue but Hubert's &lblank;.” The old reading is, however, sense.” Boswell.

Note return to page 611 1&lblank; a mote in yours,] The old copy reads moth. Moth was merely the old spelling of mote. In the passage quoted from Hamlet, the word is spelt moth in the original copy, as it is here. So also, in the preface to Lodge's Incarnate Devils of the Age, 4to. 1596: “&lblank; they are in the aire, like atomi in sole, mothes in the sonne. See also Florio's Italian Dict. 1598: “Festucco.—A moth, a little beam.” So, in Hamlet: “A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye.” A mote is a small particle of straw or chaff. It is likewise used by old writers for an atom. Malone.

Note return to page 612 2Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,] This is according to nature. We imagine no evil so great as that which is near us. Johnson.

Note return to page 613 3&lblank; the fire is dead with grief, &c.] The sense is: the fire, being created not to hurt, but to comfort, is dead with grief for finding itself used in acts of cruelty, which, being innocent, I have not deserved. Johnson.

Note return to page 614 4There is no malice in this burning coal;] Dr. Grey says, that “no malice in a burning coal” is certainly absurd, and that we should read: “There is no malice burning in this coal.” Steevens. Dr. Grey's remark on this passage is an hypercriticism. The coal was still burning, for Hubert says, “He could revive it with his breath:” but it had lost, for a time, its power of injuring, by the abatement of its heat. M. Mason. Yet in defence of Dr. Grey's remark it may be said, that Arthur imagined “that the coal was no longer burning,” although Hubert tells him afterwards “that it was not so far extinguished, but that he could revive it with his breath.” Boswell.

Note return to page 615 5&lblank; tarre him on.] i. e. stimulate, set him on. Supposed to be derived from &grt;&gra;&grr;&graa;&grt;&grt;&grw;, excito. The word occurs again in Hamlet: “&lblank; and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them on to controversy.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Pride alone must tarre the mastiffs on.” Steevens. Mr. Horne Tooke derives it from Tyfar. A. S. exacerbare, irritare. Boswell.

Note return to page 616 6&lblank; see to live;] “See to live” means only—‘Continue to enjoy the means of life.’ Steevens. I believe the author meant—“Well, live, and live with the means of seeing;” that is, ‘with your eyes uninjured.’ Malone.

Note return to page 617 7&lblank; Go closely in with me;] i. e. secretly, privately. So, in Albumazar, 1610, Act III. Sc. I.: “I'll entertain him here; mean while, steal you “Closely into the room,” &c. Again, in The Atheist's Tragedy, 1612, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Enter Frisco closely.” Again, in Sir Henry Wotton's Parallel: “That when he was free from restraint, he should closely take an out lodging at Greenwich.” Reed.

Note return to page 618 8&lblank; once again crown'd,] Old copy—against. Corrected in the fourth folio. Malone.

Note return to page 619 9This once again, &lblank; Was once superfluous:] This one time more was one time more than enough. Johnson. It should be remembered, that King John was at present crowned for the fourth time. Steevens. John's second coronation was at Canterbury, in the year 1201. He was crowned a third time, at the same place, after the murder of his nephew, in April, 1202; probably with a view of confirming his title to the throne, his competitor no longer standing in his way. Malone.

Note return to page 620 1To guard a title that was rich before,] To guard, is to fringe. Johnson. Rather, to ornament with a border, or lace. See Measure for Measure, vol. ix. p. 105, n. 6. Malone. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; give him a livery “More guarded than his fellows.” Steevens.

Note return to page 621 2&lblank; as an ancient tale new told;] Had Shakspeare been a diligent examiner of his own compositions, he would not so soon have repeated an idea which he had first put into the mouth of the Dauphin: “Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, “Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.” Mr. Malone has a remark to the same tendency. Steevens.

Note return to page 622 3They do confound their skill in covetousness:] i. e. not by their avarice, but in an eager emulation, an intense desire of excelling, as in Henry V.: “But if it be a sin to covet honour, “I am the most offending soul alive.” Theobald. So, in our author's 103d Sonnet: “Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, “To mar the subject that before was well?” Again, in King Lear: “Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.” Malone.

Note return to page 623 4&lblank; in hiding of the fault,] Fault means blemish. Steevens.

Note return to page 624 5Since all and every part of what we would,] Since the whole and each particular part of our wishes, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 625 6Some reasons of this double coronation I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) I shall indue you with:] Mr. Theobald reads—“(the lesser is my fear)” which, in the following note, Dr. Johnson has attempted to explain. Steevens. I have told you some reasons, in my opinion strong, and shall tell more, yet stronger; for the stronger my reasons are, the less is my fear of your disapprobation. This seems to be the meaning. Johnson. “And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) “I shall indue you with:” The first folio reads: “&lblank; (then lesser is my fear).” The true reading is obvious enough: “&lblank; (when lesser is my fear).” Tyrwhitt. I have done this emendation the justice to place it in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 626 7To sound the purposes &lblank;] To declare, to publish the desires of all those. Johnson.

Note return to page 627 8If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman, &c.] Perhaps we should read: “If, what in wrest you have, in right you hold—,” i. e. if what you possess by an act of seizure of violence, &c. So again, in this play: “The imminent decay of wrested pomp.” Wrest is a substantive used by Spenser, and by our author in Troilus and Cressida. Steevens. The emendation proposed by Mr. Steevens is its own voucher. If then and should change places, and a mark of interrogation be placed after exercise, the full sense of the passage will be restored. Henley. Mr. Steevens's reading of wrest is better than his explanation. If adopted, the meaning must be—“If what you possess, or have in your hand, or grasp.” Ritson. It is evident that the words should and then have changed their places. M. Mason. The construction is—If you have a good title to what you now quietly possess, why then should your fears move you, &c. Malone. Perhaps this question is elliptically expressed, and means— “Why then is it that your fears should move you,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 9&lblank; good exercise?] In the middle ages, the whole education of princes and noble youths consisted in martial exercises, &c. These could not be easily had in a prison, where mental improvements might have been afforded as well as any where else; but this sort of education never entered into the thoughts of our active, warlike, but illiterate nobility. Percy.

Note return to page 629 1Between his purpose and his conscience,] Between his consciousness of guilt, and his design to conceal it by fair professions. Johnson. Rather, between the criminal act that he planned and commanded to be executed, and the reproaches of his conscience consequent on the execution of it. So, in Coriolanus: “It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot.” We have nearly the same expressions afterwards: “Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, (in John's own person) “Hostility, and civil tumult, reigns “Between my conscience and my cousin's death.” Malone. The purpose of the King, which Salisbury alludes to, is that of putting Arthur to death, which he considers as not yet accomplished, and therefore supposes that there might still be a conflict, in the King's mind— “Between his purpose and his conscience.” So, when Salisbury sees the dead body of Arthur, he says— “It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; “The practice and the purpose of the king.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 630 2Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set:] But heralds are not planted, I presume, in the midst betwixt two lines of battle; though they, and trumpets, are often sent over from party to party, to propose terms, demand a parley, &c. I have therefore ventured to read—sent. Theobald. Set is not fixed, but only placed; heralds must be set between battles, in order to be sent between them. Johnson.

Note return to page 631 3And, when it breaks,] This is but an indelicate metaphor, taken from an imposthumated tumour. Johnson.

Note return to page 632 4From France to England.] The King asks how all goes in France, the Messenger catches the word goes, and answers, that whatever is in France goes now into England. Johnson.

Note return to page 633 5O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept?] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Was the hope drunk “Wherein you drest yourself? hath it slept since?” Malone.

Note return to page 634 6How wildly then walks my estate in France!] So, in one of the Paston Letters, vol. iii. p. 99: “The country of Norfolk and Suffolk stand right wildly.” Steevens. i. e. How ill my affairs go in France!—The verb, to walk, is used with great licence by old writers. It often means, to go, to move. So, in the Continuation of Harding's Chronicle, 1543: “Evil words walke far.” Again, in Fenner's Compter's Commonwealth, 1618: “The keeper, admiring he could not hear his prisoner's tongue walk all this while,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 635 7&lblank; I was amaz'd &lblank;] i. e. stunned, confounded. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; I am amaz'd with matter.” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 200. “You do amaze her: hear the truth of it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 636 8And here's a prophet,] This man was a hermit in great repute with the common people. Notwithstanding the event is said to have fallen out as he had prophesied, the poor fellow was inhumanly dragged at horses' tails through the streets of Warham, and, together with his son, who appears to have been even more innocent than his father, hanged afterwards upon a gibbet. See Holinshed's Chronicle, under the year 1213: Douce. See A. of Wyntown's Cronykil, b. vii. ch. viii. v. 801, &c. Steevens. Speed (History of Great Britain, p. 499,) observes, that he [Peter the Hermit] was suborned by the Pope's legate, the French king, and the Barons for this purpose. Grey.

Note return to page 637 9Deliver him to safety,] That is, “Give him into safe custody.” Johnson.

Note return to page 638 1&lblank; who, they say,] Old copy—whom. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 639 2&lblank; five moons were seen to-night, &c.] This incident is mentioned by few of our historians. I have met with it no where but in Matthew of Westminster and Polydore Virgil, with a small alteration. Grey. This incident is likewise mentioned in the old King John. Steevens.

Note return to page 640 3And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist;] This description may be compared with a spirited passage in Edward III. Capell's Prolusions, p. 75: “Our men with open mouths, and staring eyes “Look on each other, as they did attend “Each others words, and yet no creature speaks; “A tongue-ty'd fear hath made a midnight hour, “And speeches sleep through all the waking regions.” Malone.

Note return to page 641 4&lblank; slippers, (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,)] The following notes afford a curious specimen of the difficulties which may arise from the fluctuations of fashion. What has called forth the antiquarian knowledge of so many learned commentators is again become the common practice at this day. Boswell. I know not how the commentators understand this important passage, which, in Dr. Warburton's edition, is marked as eminently beautiful, and, on the whole, not without justice. But Shakspeare seems to have confounded the man's shoes with his gloves. He that is frighted or hurried may put his hand into the wrong glove, but either shoe will equally admit either foot. The author seems to be disturbed by the disorder which he describes. Johson. Dr. Johnson forgets that ancient slippers might possibly be very different from modern ones. Scott, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft, tells us: “He that receiveth a mischance, will consider, whether he put not on his shirt wrong side outwards, or his left shoe on his right foot.” One of the jests of Scogan, by Andrew Borde, is how he defrauded two shoemakers, one of a right foot boot, and the other of a left foot one. And Davies, in one of his Epigrams, compares a man to “a soft-knit hose, that serves each leg.” Farmer. In The Fleire, 1615, is the following passage: “&lblank; This fellow is like your upright shoe, he will serve either foot.” From this we may infer, that some shoes could only be worn on the foot for which they were made. And Barrett, in his Alvearie, 1580, as an instance of the word wrong, says: “&lblank; to put on his shooes wrong.” Again, in A merye Jest of a Man that was called Howleglas, bl. l. no date: “Howleglas had cut all the lether for the lefte foote. Then when his master sawe all his lether cut for the lefte foote, then asked he Howleglas if there belonged not to the lefte foote a right foote. Then sayd Howleglas to his maister, If that he had tolde that to me before, I would have cut them; but an it please you I shall cut as mani right shoone unto them.” Again, in Frobisher's Second Voyage for the Discoverie of Cataia, 4to. bl. l. 1578: “They also beheld (to their great maruaille) a dublet of canuas made after the Englishe fashion, a shirt, a girdle, three shoes for contrarie feet,” &c. p. 21. See also the Gentleman's Magazine, for April, 1797, p. 280, and the plate annexed, figure 3. Steevens. See Martin's Description of the Western Islands of Scotland, 1703, p. 207: “The generality now only wear shoes having one thin sole only, and shaped after the right and left foot, so that what is for one foot will not serve the other.” The meaning seems to be, that the extremities of the shoes were not round or square, but were cut in an oblique angle, or aslant from the great toe to the little one. See likewise The Philosophical Transactions abridged, vol. iii. p. 432, and vol. vii. p. 23, where are exhibited shoes and sandals shaped to the feet, spreading more to the outside than the inside. Tollet. So, in Holland's translation of Suetonius, 1606:—if in a morning his shoes were put one [r. on] wrong, and namely the left for the right, he held it unlucky.” Our author himself also furnishes an authority to the same point. Speed, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, speaks of a left shoe. It should be remembered that tailors generally work barefooted: a circumstance which Shakspeare probably had in his thoughts when he wrote this passage. I believe the word contrary, in his time, was frequently accented on the second syllable, and that it was intended to be so accented here. So Spenser, in his Fairy Queen: “That with the wind contráry courses sew.” Malone.

Note return to page 642 4&lblank; I had mighty cause &lblank;] The old copy, more redundantly —“I had a mighty cause.” Steevens.

Note return to page 643 5Had none, my lord!] Old copy—No had. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 644 6It is the curse of kings, &c.] This plainly hints at Davison's case, in the affair of Mary Queen of Scots, and so must have been inserted long after the first representation. Warburton. It is extremely probable that our author meant to pay his court to Elizabeth by this covert apology for her conduct to Mary. The Queen of Scots was beheaded in 1587, some years, I believe, before he had produced any play on the stage. Malone.

Note return to page 645 7&lblank; advis'd respect.] i. e. deliberate consideration, reflection. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; There's the respect “That makes calamity of so long life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 646 8Quoted,] i. e. observed, distinguished. So, in Hamlet: “I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” Steevens. See vol. iv. p. 369, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 647 9Hadst thou but shook thy head, &c.] There are many touches of nature in this conference of John with Hubert. A man engaged in wickedness would keep the profit to himself, and transfer the guilt to his accomplice. These reproaches, vented against Hubert, are not the words of art or policy, but the eruptions of a mind swelling with consciousness of a crime, and desirous of discharging its misery on another. This account of the timidity of guilt is drawn ab ipsis recessibus mentis, from the intimate knowledge of mankind, particularly that line in which he says, that to have bid him tell his tale in express words, would have struck him dumb: nothing is more certain than that bad men use all the arts of fallacy upon themselves, palliate their actions to their own minds by gentle terms, and hide themselves from their own detection in ambiguities and subterfuges. Johnson.

Note return to page 648 1Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words;] That is, such an eye of doubt as bid me tell my tale in express words. M. Mason.

Note return to page 649 2And bid &lblank;] The old copy reads—As bid. For the present emendation I am answerable. Mr. Pope reads—Or bid me, &c. but As is very unlikely to have been printed for Or. As we have here As printed instead of And, so, vice versâ, in King Henry V. 4to. 1600, we find And misprinted for As: “And in this glorious and well foughten field “We kept together in our chivalry.” Malone. As, in ancient language, has sometimes the power of—as for instance. So, in Hamlet: “As, stars with trains of fire,” &c. In the present instance it seems to mean, as if. “Had you (says the King, speaking elliptically,) turned an eye of doubt on my face, as if to bid me tell my tale in express words,” &c. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen: “That with the noise it shook as it would fall;” i. e. as if.—I have not therefore disturbed the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 650 3The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,] Nothing can be falser than what Hubert here says in his own vindication; for we find, from a preceding scene, “the motion of a murd'rous thought had entered into him,” and that very deeply: and it was with difficulty that the tears, the intreaties, and the innocence of Arthur had diverted and suppressed it. Warburton.

Note return to page 651 4I cónjure thee but slowly; run more fast.] The old play is divided into two parts, the first of which concludes with the King's despatch of Hubert on this message; the second begins with “Enter Arthur,” &c. as in the following scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 652 5The wall is high; and yet I will leap down:] Our author has here followed the old play. In what manner Arthur was deprived of his life is not ascertained. Matthew Paris, relating the event, uses the word evanuit; and, indeed, as King Philip afterwards publickly accused King John of putting his nephew to death, without either mentioning the manner of it, or his accomplices, we may conclude that it was conducted with impenetrable secrecy. The French historians, however, say, that John coming in a boat, during the night-time, to the castle of Rouen, where the young prince was confined, ordered him to be brought forth, and having stabbed him, while supplicating for mercy, the King fastened a stone to the dead body, and threw it into the Seine, in order to give some colour to a report, which he afterwards caused to be spread, that the prince attempting to escape out of a window of the tower of the castle, fell into the river, and was drowned. Malone.

Note return to page 653 6Whose private, &c.] i. e. whose private account of the Dauphin's affection to our cause is much more ample than the letters. Pope.

Note return to page 654 7&lblank; or e'er we meet.] This phrase, so frequent in our old writers, is not well understood. Or is here the same as ere, i. e. before, and should be written (as it is still pronounced in Shropshire) ore. There the common people use it often. Thus, they say, Ore to-morrow, for ere or before to-morrow. The addition of ever, or e'er, is merely augmentative. That or has the full sense of before, and that e'er, when joined with it, is merely augmentative, is proved from innumerable passages in our ancient writers, wherein or occurs simply without e'er, and must bear that signification. Thus, in the old tragedy of Master Arden of Feversham, 1599, quarto, (attributed by some, though falsely, to Shakspeare,) the wife says: “He shall be murdered or the guests come in.” Sig. H. iii. b. Percy. So, in All for Money, an old Morality, 1574: “I could sit in the cold a good while I swear, “Or I would be weary such suitors to hear.” Again, in Every Man, another Morality, no date: “As, or we departe, thou shalt know.” Again, in the interlude of The Disobedient Child, bl. l. no date: “To send for victuals or I came away.” That or should be written ore I am by no means convinced. The vulgar pronunciation of a particular county ought not to be received as a general guide. Ere is nearer the Saxon primitive ær. Steevens. See vol. xv. p. 25, n. 8. Boswell.

Note return to page 655 8&lblank; distemper'd &lblank;] i. e. ruffled, out of humour. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; in his retirement marvellous distemper'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 656 9&lblank; reason now.] To reason, in Shakspeare, is not so often to argue, as to talk. Johnson. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; reason with the fellow “Before you punish him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 657 1&lblank; no man else.] Old copy—no man's. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 658 2Have you beheld,] Old copy—“You have,” &c. Corrected by the editor of the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 659 3Or have you read, or heard? &c.] Similar interrogatories have been already urged by the Dauphin, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; Who hath read, or heard, “Of any kindred action like to this?” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 4&lblank; wall-ey'd wrath,] So, in Titus Andronicus, Lucius, addressing himself to Aaron the Moor: “Say, wall-ey'd slave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 661 5&lblank; of times;] That is, of all future times. So, in King Henry V.: “By custom and the ordinance of times.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “For now against himself he sounds his doom, “That through the length of times he stands disgrac'd.” Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors more elegantly read—sins of time; but the peculiarities of Shakspeare's diction ought, in my apprehension, to be faithfully preserved. Malone. I follow Mr. Pope, whose reading is justified by a line in the celebrated soliloquy of Hamlet: “For who would bear the whips and scorns of time?” Again, by another in this play of King John, p. 346: “I am not glad that such a sore of time &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 662 6&lblank; a holy vow; Never to taste the pleasures of the world,] This is a copy of the vows made in the ages of superstition and chivalry. Johnson.

Note return to page 663 7Till I have set a glory to this hand, By giving it the worship of revenge.] The worship, is the dignity, the honour. We still say worshipful of magistrates. Johnson. I think it should be—a glory to this head;—pointing to the dead prince, and using the word worship in its common acceptation. A glory is a frequent term: “Round a quaker's beaver cast a glory,” says Mr. Pope: the solemn confirmation of the other lords seems to require this sense. The late Mr. Gray was much pleased with this correction. Farmer. The old reading seems right to me, and means,—“till I have famed and renowned my own hand by giving it the honour of revenge for so foul a deed.” Glory means splendor and magnificence in St. Matthew, vi. 29. So, in Markham's Husbandry, 1631, p. 353: “But if it be where the tide is scant, and doth no more but bring the river to a glory,” i. e. fills the banks without overflowing. So, in Act II. Sc. II. of this play: “O, two such silver currents, when they join, “Do glorify the banks that bound them in.” A thought almost similar to the present, occurs in Ben Jonson's Catiline, who, Act IV. Sc. IV. says to Cethegus: “When we meet again we'll sacrifice to liberty. Cet. And revenge. That we may praise our hands once!” i. e. O! that we may set a glory, or procure honour and praise, to our hands, which are the instruments of action. Tollet. I believe, at repeating these lines, Salisbury should take hold of the hand of Arthur, to which he promises to pay the worship of revenge. M. Mason. I think the old reading the true one. In the next Act we have the following lines: “&lblank; I will not return, “Till my attempt so much be glorified “As to my ample hope was promised.” The following passage in Troilus and Cressida is decisive in support of the old reading: “&lblank; Jove, let Æneas live, “If to my sword his fate be not the glory, “A thousand cómplete courses of the sun.” Malone.

Note return to page 664 8Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again,] i. e. lest it lose its brightness. So, in Othello: “Keep up your bright swords; for the dew will rust them.” Malone.

Note return to page 665 9&lblank; true defence;] Honest defence; defence in a good cause. Johnson.

Note return to page 666 1Do not prove me so; Yet, I am none:] Do not make me a murderer, by compelling me to kill you; I am hitherto not a murderer. Johnson.

Note return to page 667 2&lblank; your toasting-iron,] The same thought is found in King Henry V.: “I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one, but what though? it will toast cheese.” Again, in Fletcher's Woman's Prize, or the Tamer tamed: “&lblank; dart ladles, toasting irons, “And tongs, like thunder-bolts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 668 3That you shall think the devil is come from hell.] So, in the ancient MS. romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne: “And saide thai wer no men “But develis abroken oute of helle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 669 4Like rivers of remorse &lblank;] Remorse here, as almost every where in these plays, and the contemporary books, signifies pity. Malone.

Note return to page 670 5Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer:] So, in the old play: “Hell, Hubert, trust me, all the plagues of hell “Hangs on performance of this damned deed; “This seal, the warrant of the body's bliss, “Ensureth Satan chieftain of thy soul.” Malone.

Note return to page 671 6There is not yet, &c.] I remember once to have met with a book, printed in the time of Henry VIII. (which Shakspeare possibly might have seen,) where we are told that the deformity of the condemned in the other world, is exactly proportioned to the degrees of their guilt. The author of it observes how difficult it would be, on this account, to distinguish between Belzebub and Judas Iscariot. Steevens.

Note return to page 672 7&lblank; drown thyself.] Perhaps—thyself is an interpolation. It certainly spoils the measure; and drown is elsewhere used by our author as a verb neuter. Thus, in King Richard III.: “Good lord, methought, what pain it was to drown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 673 8I am amaz'd,] i. e. confounded. So, King John, p. 322, says: “&lblank; I was amaz'd “Under the tide.” Steevens.

Note return to page 674 9To tug and scamble,] So, in K. Henry V. Sc. I.: “But that the scambling and unquiet time.” Scamble and scramble have the same meaning. See note on the passage quoted. Steevens.

Note return to page 675 1The unowed interest &lblank;] i. e. the interest which has no proper owner to claim it. Steevens. That is, the interest which is not at this moment legally possessed by any one, however rightfully entitled to it. On the death of Arthur, the right to the English crown devolved to his sister, Eleanor. Malone.

Note return to page 676 2The imminent decay of wrested pomp.] Wrested pomp is greatness obtained by violence. Johnson. Rather, greatness wrested from its possessor. Malone.

Note return to page 677 3&lblank; and cincture &lblank;] The old copy reads—center, probably for ceinture, Fr. Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 678 4&lblank; use all your power To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd.] This cannot be right, for the nation was already as much inflamed as it could be, and so the King himself declares. We should read for, instead of 'fore, and then the passage will run thus: “&lblank; use all your power “To stop their marches, for we are inflam'd; “Our discontented counties do revolt,” &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 679 5&lblank; counties &lblank;] Perhaps counties, in the present instance, do not mean the divisions of a kingdom, but lords, nobility, as in Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 6&lblank; a gentle convertite,] A convertite is a convert. So, in Marlow's Jew of Malta, 1633: “Gov. Why, Barabas, wilt thou be christened? “Bar. No, governour; I'll be no convertite.” Steevens. The same expression occurs in As You Like It, where Jaques, speaking of the young Duke, says: “There is much matter in these convertites.” In both these places the word convertite means a repenting sinner; not, as Steevens says, a convert, by which, in the language of the present time, is meant a person who changes from one religion to another; in which sense the word can neither apply to King John, or to Duke Frederick: In the sense I have given it, it will apply to both. M. Mason. A convertite (a word often used by our old writers, where we should now use convert) signified either one converted to the faith, or one reclaimed from worldly pursuits, and devoted to penitence and religion. Mr. M. Mason says, a convertite cannot mean a convert, because the latter word, “in the language of the present time, means a person that changes from one religion to another.” But the question is, not what is the language of the present time, but what was the language of Shakspeare's age. Marlow uses the word convertite exactly in the sense now affixed to convert. John, who had in the former part of this play asserted, in very strong terms, the supremacy of the king of England in all ecclesiastical matters, and told Pandulph that he had no reverence for “the Pope, or his usurp'd authority,” having now made his peace with the “holy church,” and resigned his crown to the Pope's representative, is considered by the legate as one newly converted to the true faith, and very properly styled by him a convertite. The same term, in the second sense above-mentioned, is applied to the usurper, Duke Frederick, in As You Like It, on his having “put on a religious life, and thrown into neglect the pompous court:” “&lblank; out of these convertites “There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.” So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “He thence departs a heavy convertite.” Malone.

Note return to page 681 7An empty casket, where the jewel of life &lblank;] Dryden has transferred this image to a speech of Antony, in All for Love: “An empty circle, since the jewel's gone &lblank;.” Steevens. The same kind of imagery is employed in King Richard II.: “A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest “Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.” Malone.

Note return to page 682 8&lblank; and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.] So, in Macbeth: “Let's briefly put on manly readiness, “And meet i' the hall together.” Malone.

Note return to page 683 9&lblank; to become the field:] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; such a sight as this “Becomes the field.” Steevens.

Note return to page 684 1&lblank; Forage, and run &lblank;] To forage is here used in its original sense, for to range abroad. Johnson.

Note return to page 685 2Mocking the air with colours idly spread,] He has the same image in Macbeth: “Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky, “And fan our people cold.” Johnson. From these two passages Mr. Gray seems to have formed the first stanza of his celebrated Ode: “Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! “Confusion on thy banners wait! “Though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing “They mock the air with idle state.” Malone.

Note return to page 686 3Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, Our party may well meet a prouder foe.] “Let us then away with courage; yet I so well know the faintness of our party, that I think it may easily happen that they shall encounter enemies who have more spirit than themselves.” Johnson. Dr. Johnson is, I believe, mistaken. Faulconbridge means— ‘for all their boasting, I know very well that our party is able to cope with one yet prouder and more confident of its strength than theirs. Faulconbridge would otherwise dispirit the King, whom he means to animate. Steevens. Yet I know, is—still I know. Boswell.

Note return to page 687 4&lblank; near St. Edmund's-Bury.] I have ventured to fix the place of the scene here, which is specified by none of the editors, on the following authorities. In the preceding Act, where Salisbury has fixed to go over to the Dauphin, he says: “Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmund's-Bury.” And Count Melun, in this last Act, says: “&lblank; and many more with me, “Upon the altar at St. Edmund's-Bury; “Even on that altar, where we swore to you “Dear amity, and everlasting love.” And it appears likewise, from The Troublesome Reign of King John, in two Parts, (the first rough model of this play,) that the interchange of vows betwixt the Dauphin and the English barons was at St. Edmund's-Bury. Theobald.

Note return to page 688 5&lblank; the precedent, &c.] i. e. the rough draught of the original treaty between the Dauphin and the English lords. Thus (adds Mr. M. Mason) in King Richard III. the scrivener employed to engross the indictment of Lord Hastings, says, “that it took him eleven hours to write it, and that the precedent was full as long a doing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 6&lblank; after a stranger march &lblank;] Our author often uses stranger as an adjective. See the last scene, p. 341: “Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul, “To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.” So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 190: “To seek new friends, and stranger companies.” Malone.

Note return to page 690 7&lblank; the spot of this enforced cause,] Spot probably means, stain or disgrace. M. Mason. So, in a former passage: “To look into the spots and stains of right.” Malone.

Note return to page 691 8&lblank; clippeth thee about,] i. e. embraceth. So, in Coriolanus: “Enter the city; clip your wives.” Steevens.

Note return to page 692 9And grapple thee &lblank;] The old copy reads—“And cripple thee,” &c. Perhaps our author wrote gripple, a word used by Drayton, in his Polyolbion, Song 1: “That thrusts his gripple hand into her golden maw.” Our author, however, in Macbeth, has the verb—grapple: “Grapples thee to the heart and love of us &lblank;.” The emendation (as Mr. Malone observes) was made by Mr. Pope. Steevens.

Note return to page 693 1&lblank; unto a pagan shore;] Our author seems to have been thinking on the wars carried on by Christian princes in the holy land against the Saracens, where the united armies of France and England might have laid their mutual animosities aside, and fought in the cause of Christ, instead of fighting against brethren and countrymen, as Salisbury and the other English noblemen who had joined the Dauphin were about to do. Malone.

Note return to page 694 2And not to-spend it so unneighbourly.] Shakspeare employs, in the present instance, a phraseology which he had used before in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “And fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean-knight.” To, in composition with verbs, is common enough in ancient language. See Mr. Tyrwhitt's observations on this last passage, and many instances in support of his position, vol. viii. p. 164, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 695 3&lblank; hast thou fought,] Thou, which appears to have been accidentally omitted by the transcriber or compositor, was inserted by the editor of the fourth folio. Malone.

Note return to page 696 4Between compulsion and a brave respect!] This compulsion was the necessity of a reformation in the state; which, according to Salisbury's opinion, (who, in his speech preceding, calls it an enforced cause,) could only be procured by foreign arms: and the brave respect was the love of his country. Warburton.

Note return to page 697 5This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “This windy tempest, till it blow up rain, “Held back his sorrow's tide &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 698 6&lblank; an angel spake:] Sir T. Hanmer, and, after him, Dr. Warburton, read here—“an angel speeds,” I think unnecessarily. The Dauphin does not yet hear the legate indeed, nor pretend to hear him; but seeing him advance, and concluding that he comes to animate and authorize him with the power of the church, he cries out, “at the sight of this holy man, I am encouraged as by the voice of an angel.” Johnson. Rather, In what I have now said, an angel spake; for see, the holy legate approaches, to give a warrant from heaven, and the name of right to our cause. Malone. This thought is far from a new one. Thus, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis: “Hem thought it sowned in her ere, “As though that it an angell were.” Steevens.

Note return to page 699 7You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted me with interest to this land,] This was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So again, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “He hath more worthy interest to the state, “Than thou the shadow of succession.” Again, in Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire, vol. ii. p. 927: “&lblank; in 4. R. 2. he had a release from Rose the daughter and heir of Sir John de Arden before specified, of all her interest to the manor of Pedimore.” Malone.

Note return to page 700 8&lblank; as I have bank'd their towns?] “Bank'd their towns” may mean, ‘throw up entrenchments before them.’ The old play of King John, however, leaves this interpretation extremely disputable. It appears from thence that these salutations were given to the Dauphin as he sailed along the banks of the river. This, I suppose, Shakspeare calls banking the towns. “&lblank; from the hollow holes of Thamesis “Echo apace replied, Vive le roi! “From thence along the wanton rolling glade, “To Troynovant, your fair metropolis.” We still say to coast and to flank; and to bank has no less of propriety, though it is not reconciled to us by modern usage. Steevens.

Note return to page 701 9No, on my soul,] In the old copy, no, injuriously to the measure, is repeated. Steevens.

Note return to page 702 1&lblank; drew this gallant head of war,] i. e. assembled it, drew it out into the field. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “And that his friends by deputation could not “So soon be drawn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 703 2&lblank; outlook &lblank;] i. e. face down, bear down by a show of magnanimity. In a former scene of this play, p. 343, we have: “&lblank; outface the brow “Of bragging horror.” Steevens.

Note return to page 704 3&lblank; and reason too,] Old copy—to. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 705 4This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,] The printed copies—unheard; but unheard is an epithet of very little force or meaning here; besides, let us observe how it is coupled. Faulconbridge is sneering at the Dauphin's invasion, as an unadvised enterprise, savouring of youth and indiscretion; the result of childishness, and unthinking rashness; and he seems altogether to dwell on this character of it, by calling his preparation “boyish troops, dwarfish war, pigmy arms,” &c. which, according to my emendation, sort very well with unhair'd, i. e. unbearded sauciness. Theobald. Hair was formerly written hear. Hence the mistake might easily happen. Faulconbridge has already, in this Act, p. 344, exclaimed: “Shall a beardless boy, “A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields?” So, in the fifth Act of Macbeth, Lenox tells Cathness that the English army is near, in which, he says, there are &lblank; “&lblank; many unrough youths, that even now “Protest their first of manhood.” Again, in King Henry V.: “For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd “With one appearing hair, that will not follow “These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?” Malone.

Note return to page 706 5&lblank; take the hatch;] To take the hatch, is to leap the hatch. To take a hedge or a ditch is the hunter's phrase. Chapman has more than once employed it in his version of Homer. Thus, in the 22d Iliad: “&lblank; take the town; retire, dear son,” &c. Again, ibid: “&lblank; and take the town, not tempting the rude field.” &lblank; &gre;&gris;&grs;&gre;&grr;&grx;&gre;&gro; &grt;&gre;&gric;&grx;&gro;&grst;,—&grT;&gre;&gria;&grx;&gre;&gro;&grst; &gres;&grn;&grt;&grog;&grst; &gris;&grwa;&grn;. Steevens. So, in Massinger's Fatal Dowry, 1632: “I look about and neigh, take hedge and ditch, “Feed in my neighbour's pastures.” Malone.

Note return to page 707 6&lblank; in concealed wells;] I believe our author, with his accustomed licence, used concealed for concealing; wells that afforded concealment and protection to those who took refuge there. Malone. “Concealed wells” are wells in concealed or obscure situations; viz. in places secured from public notice. Steevens.

Note return to page 708 7&lblank; of your nation's crow,] Mr. Pope, and some of the subsequent editors, read—our nation's crow; not observing that the Bastard is speaking of John's atchievements in France. He likewise reads, in the next line—his voice; but this voice, the voice or caw of the French crow, is sufficiently clear. Malone. “&lblank; your nation's crow,” i. e. at the crowing of a cock; gallus meaning both a cock and a Frenchman. Douce.

Note return to page 709 8&lblank; like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,] An aiery is the nest of an eagle. So, in King Richard III.: “Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top.” Steevens.

Note return to page 710 9Their neelds to lances,] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Have with our neelds created both one flower.” Fairfax has the same contraction of the word—needle. Steevens. In the old copy the word is contractedly written needl's, but it was certainly intended to be pronounced neelds, as it is frequently written in old English books. Many dissyllables are used by Shakspeare and other writers as monosyllables, as whether, spirit, &c. though they generally appear at length in the original editions of these plays. Malone.

Note return to page 711 9A bare-ribb'd death,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Shows me a bare-bon'd death by time outworn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 712 1&lblank; Swinstead,] i. e. Swineshead, as I am informed by Mr. Dodd, the present vicar of that place. Reed.

Note return to page 713 2&lblank; for the great supply &lblank; Are wreck'd &lblank;] Supply is here, and in a subsequent passage in Scene V. p. 360, used as a noun of multitude. Malone.

Note return to page 714 3&lblank; Richard &lblank;] Sir Richard Faulconbridge;—and yet the King, a little before, (Act III. Sc. II.) calls him by his original name of Philip. Steevens. The King calls him familiarly by his old name of Philip, but the messenger could not take the same liberty. Malone.

Note return to page 715 4&lblank; bought and sold;] This expression seems to have been proverbial; intimating that foul play has been used. It is used again in King Richard III.: “Jocky of Norfolk be not too bold, “For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold.” Malone. It is used also in King Henry VI. Part I. Act IV. Sc. IV. and in The Comedy of Errors, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 5Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,] Though all the copies concur in this reading, how poor is the metaphor of unthreading the eye of a needle? And besides, as there is no mention made of a needle, how remote and obscure is the allusion without it? The text, as I have restored it, is easy and natural; and it is the mode of expression which our author is every where fond of, to tread and untread, the way, paths, steps, &c. Theobald. The metaphor is certainly harsh, but I do not think the passage corrupted. Johnson. Mr. Theobald reads—untread; but Shakspeare, in King Lear, uses the expression, “threading dark ey'd night;” and Coriolanus says: “Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, “They would not thread the gates.” This quotation, in support of the old reading, has also been adduced by Mr. M. Mason. Steevens. Some one, observing on this passage, has been idle enough to suppose that the eye of rebellion was used like the eye of the mind, &c. Shakspeare's metaphor is of a much humbler kind. He was evidently thinking of the “eye of a needle.” Undo (says Melun to the English nobles) what you have done; desert the rebellious project in which you have engaged. In Coriolanus we have a kindred expression: “They would not thread the gates.” Our author is not always careful that the epithet which he applies to a figurative term should answer on both sides. Rude is applicable to rebellion, but not to eye. He means, in fact,—the eye of rude rebellion. Malone.

Note return to page 717 6He means &lblank;] The Frenchman, i. e. Lewis, means, &c. See Melun's next speech: “If Lewis do win the day &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 718 7&lblank; even as a form of wax Resolveth, &c.] i. e. dissolveth. So, in Hamlet: “Thaw and resolve itself into a dew.” Malone. This is said in allusion to the images made by witches. Holinshed observes, that it was alledged against dame Eleanor Cobham and her confederates, “that they had devised “an image of wax,” representing the king, which, by their sorcerie, by little and little consumed, intending thereby, in conclusion, to waste and destroy the king's person.” Steevens.

Note return to page 719 8&lblank; rated treachery,] It were easy to change rated to hated, for an easier meaning, but rated suits better with fine. The Dauphin has rated your treachery, and set upon it a fine, which your lives must pay. Johnson.

Note return to page 720 9For that my grandsire was an Englishman,] This line is taken from the old play, printed in quarto, in 1591. Malone.

Note return to page 721 1Leaving our rankness and irregular course,] Rank, as applied to water, here signifies exuberant, ready to overflow: as applied to the actions of the speaker and his party, it signifies inordinate. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Rain added to a river that is rank, “Perforce will force it overflow the bank.” Malone.

Note return to page 722 2Right in thine eye.] This is the old reading. Right signifies immediate. It is now obsolete. Some commentators would read—pight, i. e. pitched as a tent is; others, “Fight in thine eye.” Steevens.

Note return to page 723 3&lblank; happy newness, &c.] Happy innovation, that purposed the restoration of the ancient rightful government. Johnson.

Note return to page 724 4When the English measur'd &lblank;] Old copy—When English measure, &c. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 725 5&lblank; tatter'd &lblank;] For tatter'd, the folio reads, tottering. Johnson. Tattering, which, in the spelling of our author's time, was tottering, is used for tatter'd. The active and passive participles are employed by him very indiscriminately. Malone. It is remarkable through such old copies of our author as I have hitherto seen, that wherever the modern editors read tatter'd, the old editions give us totter'd in its room. Perhaps the present broad pronunciation, almost peculiar to the Scots, was at that time common to both nations. So, in Marlowe's King Edward II. 1598: “This tottered ensign of my ancestors.” Again: “As doth this water from my totter'd robes.” Again, in The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “I will not bid my ensign-bearer wave “My totter'd colours in this worthless air.” I read—tatter'd, an epithet which occurs again in King Lear and Romeo and Juliet. Of tattering (which would obviously mean tearing to tatters) our author's works afford no parallel. Steevens. Mr. Steevens says there is no parallel for this phraseology in our author's works; but see his own note on all-obeying, in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. xii. p. 326, n. 8. Boswell.

Note return to page 726 6&lblank; keep good quarter,] i. e. keep in your allotted posts or stations. So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; not a man “Shall pass his quarter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 727 7&lblank; perfect thought:] i. e. a well-informed one. So, in Cymbeline: “I am perfect; “That the Pannonians,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 728 8&lblank; thou, and eyeless night,] The old copy reads—endless. Steevens. We should read eyeless. So, Pindar calls the moon, the eye of night. Warburton. This epithet I find in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “O eyeless night, the portraiture of death!” Again, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 102, b.: “The daie made ende, and loste his sight, “And comen was the darke night, “The whiche all the daies eie blent.” Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald. With Pindar our author had certainly no acquaintance; but, I believe, the correction is right. Shakspeare has, however, twice applied the epithet endless to night, in King Richard II.: “Then thus I turn me from my country's light, “To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.” Again: “My oil-dry'd lamp— “Shall be extinct with age and endless night.” But in the latter of these passages a natural, and in the former, a kind of civil, death, is alluded to. In the present passage the epithet endless is inadmissible, because, if understood literally, it is false. On the other hand, eyeless is peculiarly applicable. The emendation is also supported by our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Poor grooms are sightless night; kings, glorious day.” Malone.

Note return to page 729 9The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk:] Not one of the historians who wrote within sixty years after the death of King John, mentions this very improbable story. The tale is, that a monk, to revenge himself on the king for a saying at which he took offence, poisoned a cup of ale, and having brought it to his majesty, drank some of it himself, to induce the king to taste it, and soon afterwards expired. Thomas Wykes is the first, who relates it in his Chronicle, as a report. According to the best accounts, John died at Newark, of a fever. Malone.

Note return to page 730 1&lblank; that you might The better arm you to the sudden time, Than if you had at leisure known of this.] It appears to me, that at leisure means less speedily, after some delay. M. Mason.

Note return to page 731 2Why, know you not? the lords, &c.] Perhaps we ought to point thus: “Why know you not, the lords are all come back, “And brought prince Henry in their company?” Malone.

Note return to page 732 3&lblank; Prince Henry,] This prince was only nine years old when his father died. Steevens.

Note return to page 733 4Is touch'd corruptibly;] i. e. corruptively. Such was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, in his Rape of Lucrece: “The Romans plausibly did give consent &lblank;.” i. e. with acclamations. Here we should now say—plausively. Malone.

Note return to page 734 5In their continuance,] I suspect our author wrote—“In thy continuance.” In his Sonnets the two words are frequently confounded. If the text be right, continuance means continuity. Bacon uses the word in that sense. Malone.

Note return to page 735 6Leaves them invisible; and his siege is now Against the mind,] As the word invisible has no sense in this passage, I have no doubt but the modern editors are right in reading insensible, which agrees with the two preceding lines: “&lblank; fierce extremes, “In their continuance, will not feel themselves. “Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, “Leaves them insensible: his siege is now “Against the mind,” &c. The last lines are evidently intended as a paraphrase, and confirmation of the two first. M. Mason. Invisible is here used adverbially. Death, having glutted himself with the ravage of the almost wasted body, and knowing that the disease with which he has assailed it is mortal, before its dissolution, proceeds, from mere satiety, to attack the mind, leaving the body invisibly; that is, in such a secret manner that the eye cannot precisely mark his progress, or see when his attack on the vital powers has ended, and that on the mind begins; or, in other words, at what particular moment reason ceases to perform its function, and the understanding, in consequence of a corroding and mortal malady, begins to be disturbed. Our poet, in his Venus and Adonis, calls Death, “invisible commander.” Henry is here only pursuing the same train of thought which we find in his first speech in the present scene. Our author has, in many other passages in his plays, used adjectives adverbially. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Was it not meant damnable in us,” &c. Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient.” See vol. x. p. 438, n. 7, and King Henry IV. Act IV. Sc. II. Mr. Rowe reads—her siege—, an error derived from the corruption of the second folio. I suspect, that this strange mistake was Mr. Gray's authority for making Death a female; in which, I believe, he has neither been preceded, or followed, by any English poet: “The painful family of Death, “More hideous than their queen.” The old copy, in the passage before us, reads—Against the wind; an evident error of the press, which was corrected by Mr. Pope, and which I should scarcely have mentioned, but that it justifies an emendation made in Measure for Measure, [vol. ix. p. 72, n. 2,] where, by a similar mistake, the word flawes appears in the old copy instead of flames. Malone. Mr. Malone reads: “Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, “Leaves them invisible;” &c. As often as I am induced to differ from the opinions of a gentleman whose laborious diligence in the cause of Shakspeare is without example, I subject myself to the most unwelcome part of editorial duty. Success, however, is not, in every instance, proportionable to zeal and effort; and he who shrinks from controversy, should also have avoided the vestibulum ipsum, primasque fauces, of the school of Shakspeare. Sir Thomas Hanmer give us—insensible, which affords a meaning sufficiently commodious. But, as invisible and insensible are not words of exactest consonance, the legitimacy of this emendation has been disputed. It yet remains in my text, for the sake of those who discover no light through the ancient reading. Perhaps (I speak without confidence) our author wrote—invincible, which, in sound, so nearly resembles invisible, that an inattentive compositor might have substituted the one for the other.— All our modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted) agree that invincible, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. II. was a misprint for invisible; and so (vice versa) invisible may here have usurped the place of invincible. If my supposition be admitted, the Prince must design to say, that Death had battered the royal outworks, but, seeing they were invincible, quitted them, and directed his force against the mind. In the present instance, the King of Terrors is described as a besieger, who, failing in his attempt to storm the bulwark, proceeded to undermine the citadel. Why else did he change his mode and object of attack?—The Spanish ordnance sufficiently preyed on the ramparts of Gibraltar, but still left them impregnable.—The same metaphor, though not continued so far, occurs again in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; Nature, “To whom all sores lay siege.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; and yet my heart “Will not confess he owes the malady “That does my life besiege.” Mr. Malone, however, gives a different turn to the passage before us; and leaving the word siege out of his account, appears to represent Death as a gourmand, who had satiated himself with the King's body, and took his intellectual part by way of change of provision. Neither can a complete acquiescence in the same gentleman's examples of adjectives used adverbially, be well expected; as they chiefly occur in light and familiar dialogue, or where the regular full-grown adverb was unfavourable to rhyme or metre. Nor indeed are these docked adverbs (which perform their office, like the witch's rat, “without a tail,”) discoverable in any solemn narrative like that before us. A portion of them also might be no other than typographical imperfections; for this part of speech, shorn of its termination, will necessarily take the form of an adjective.— I may subjoin, that in the beginning of the present scene, the adjective corruptible is not offered as a locum tenens for the adverb corruptibly, though they were alike adapted to our author's measure. It must, notwithstanding, be allowed, that adjectives employed adverbially are sometimes met with in the language of Shakspeare. Yet, surely, we ought not (as Polonius says) to “crack the wind of the poor phrase,” by supposing its existence where it must operate equivocally, and provoke a smile, as on the present occasion. That Death, therefore, “left the outward parts of the King invisible,” could not, in my judgment, have been an expression hazarded by our poet in his most careless moment of composition. It conveys an idea too like the helmet of Orcus, in the fifth Iliad* [Subnote: *&grD;&gruc;&grn;&grap; &GRAsa;&grid;&grd;&gro;&grst; &grk;&gru;&grn;&grea;&grh;&grn;, &grM;&grH; &grM;&grI;&grN; &grI;&grD;&grO;&grI; &grosa;&grb;&grr;&gri;&grm;&gro;&grst; &GRAsa;&grr;&grh;&grst;.] , Gadshill's “receipt of fern-seed,” Colonel Feignwell's moros musphonon, or the consequences of being bit by a Seps, as was a Roman soldier, of whom says our excellent translator of Lucan, “&lblank; none was left, no least remains were seen, “No marks to show that once a man had been.”† [Subnote: †Rowe, book ix. l. 1334.] Besides, if the outward part (i. e. the body) of the expiring monarch was, in plain, familiar, and unqualified terms, pronounced to be invisible, how could those who pretended to have just seen it, expect to be believed? and would not an audience, uninitiated in the mystery of adverbial adjectives, on hearing such an account of the royal carcase, have exclaimed, like the Governor of Tilbury Fort, in The Critic: “&lblank; thou canst not see it, “Because 'tis not in sight.” But I ought not to dismiss the present subject, without a few words in defence of Mr. Gray, who had authority somewhat more decisive than that of the persecuted second folio of Shakspeare, for representing Death as a Woman. The writer of the Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, was sufficiently intimate with Lucretius, Horace, Ovid, Phædrus, Statius, Petronius, Seneca the dramatist, &c. to know that they all concurred in exhibiting Mors as a Goddess. Thus Lucan, lib. vi. 600: Elysias resera sedes, ipsamque vocatam, Quos petat è nobis, Mortem tibi coge fateri. Mr. Spence, in his Polymetis, p. 261, (I refer to a book of easy access,) has produced abundant examples in proof of my assertion, and others may be readily supplied. One comprehensive instance, indeed, will answer my present purpose. Statius, in his eighth Thebaid, describing a troop of ghastly females who surrounded the throne of Pluto, has the following lines: Stant Furiæ circum, variæque ex ordine Mortes, Sævaque multisonas exercet Pœna catenas. From this group of personification, &c. it is evident, that not merely Death, as the source or principle of mortality, but each particular kind of death, was represented under a feminine shape. For want, therefore, of a corresponding masculine term, Dobson, in his Latin version of the second Paradise Lost, was obliged to render the terrific offspring of Satan, by the name of Hades; a luckless necessity, because Hades, in the 964th line of the same book, exhibits a character completely discriminated from that of Death. For the satisfaction of English antiquaries, let me add, that in an ancient poem (which in point of versification resembles the pieces of Longland) there is a contest for superiority between our Lady Dame Life, and the ugly fiend Dame Death. Milton himself, however, in his second Elegy, has exhibited Death not only as a female, but as a queen: Magna sepulchrorum regina, satelles Averni, Sæva nimis Musis, Palladi sæva nimis. See Mr. Warton's note on this passage. Consult also Milton's third Elegy, v. 16: Mors fera, Tartareo diva secunda Jovi. Again, In Obitum Præsulis Eliensis: Mors atra noctis filia. Dryden, likewise, in his Indian Queen, Act II. Sc. I. has attributed the same sex to Death: “&lblank; The gods can but destroy; “The noblest way to fly, is that Death shows; “I'll court her now, since victory's grown coy.” Were I inclined to be sportive, (a disposition which commentators should studiously repress,) might I not maintain, on the strength of the foregoing circumstances, that the editor of the folio 1632, (far from being an ignorant blunderer,) was well instructed in the niceties of Roman mythology; and might not my ingenious fellow-labourer, on the score of his meditated triumph over Mr. Gray, be saluted with such a remark as reached the ear of Cadmus? &lblank; &lblank; Quid, Agenore nate, peremptum Serpentem spectas? et tu spectabere serpens. Fashionable as it is to cavil at the productions of our Cambridge poet, it has not yet been discovered that throughout the fields of classick literature, even in a single instance, he had mistook his way. Steevens.

Note return to page 736 7With many legions of strange fantasies; Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves.] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Much like a press of people at a door, “Throng his inventions, which shall go before.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; which forc'd such way, “That many maz'd considerings did throng, “And press in, with this caution.” Malone. “&lblank; in their throng and press to that last hold.” In their tumult and hurry of resorting to the last tenable part. Johnson.

Note return to page 737 8I am the cygnet &lblank;] Old copy—Symet. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 738 9&lblank; you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.] A description of the Chaos almost in the very words of Ovid: Quem dixere Chaos, rudis indigestaque moles. Met. i. Whalley. “Which Chaos hight, a huge rude heap:— “No sunne as yet with lightsome beames the shapeless world did view.” Golding's Translation, 1587. Malone.

Note return to page 739 1Poison'd,—ill-fare;] Mr. Malone supposes fare to be here used as a dissyllable, like fire, hour, &c. But as this word has not concurring vowels in it, like hour, or fair, nor was ever dissyllabically spelt (like fier) faer; I had rather suppose the present line imperfect, than complete it by such unprecedented means. Steevens.

Note return to page 740 2This scene has been imitated by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Wife for a Month, Act IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 741 3To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;] Decker, in The Gul's Hornbook, 1609, has the same thought: “&lblank; the morning waxing cold, thrust his frosty fingers into thy bosome.” Again, in a pamphlet entitled The Great Frost, Cold Doings, &c. in London, 1608: “The cold hand of winter is thrust into our bosoms.” Steevens. The corresponding passage in the old play runs thus: “Philip, some drink. O, for the frozen Alps “To tumble on, and cool this inward heat, “That rageth as a furnace seven-fold hot.” There is so strong a resemblance, not only in the thought, but in the expression, between the passage before us and the following lines in two of Marlowe's plays, that we may fairly suppose them to have been in our author's thoughts: “O, I am dull, and the cold hand of sleep “Hath thrust his icy fingers in my breast “And made a frost within me.” Lust's Dominion. Again: “O, poor Zabina, O my queen, my queen, “Fetch me some water for my burning breast, “To cool and comfort me with longer date.” Tamburlaine, 1591. Lust's Dominion, like many of the plays of that time, remained unpublished for a great number of years, and was first printed in 1657, by Francis Kirkman, a bookseller. It must, however, have been written before 1593, in which year Marlowe died. Malone.

Note return to page 742 4&lblank; I do not ask you much,] We should read, for the sake of metre, with Sir T. Hanmer—“I ask not much.” Steevens.

Note return to page 743 5&lblank; so strait,] i. e. narrow, avaricious; an unusual sense of the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 744 7And module of confounded royalty.] Module and model, it has been already observed, were, in our author's time, only different modes of spelling the same word. Model signified not an archetype after which something was to be formed, but the thing formed after an archetype; and hence it is used by Shakspeare and his contemporaries for a representation. So, in The London Prodigal, 1605: “Dear copy of my husband! O let me kiss thee! [Kissing a picture. “How like him is this model?” Malone.

Note return to page 745 8Were in the washes, all unwarily, &c.] This untoward accident really happened to King John himself. As he passed from Lynn to Lincolnshire, he lost by an inundation all his treasure, carriages, baggage, and regalia. Malone.

Note return to page 746 9At Worcester must his body be interr'd;] A stone coffin, containing the body of King John, was discovered in the cathedral church of Worcester, July 17, 1797. Steevens. “In crastino Sancti Lucæ Johannes Rex Angliæ in castro de Newark obiit, et sepultus est in ecclesia Wigorniensi inter corpora sancti Oswaldi et sancti [Wolstani. Chronic. sive Annal. Prioratus de Dunstaple, edit. a Tho. Hearne, tom. i. p. 173. Grey.

Note return to page 747 1&lblank; that would give you &lblank;] You, which is not in the old copy, was added, for the sake of the metre, by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 748 2&lblank; let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.] Let us now indulge in sorrow, since there is abundant cause for it. England has been long in a scene of confusion, and its calamities have anticipated our tears. By those which we now shed, we only pay her what is her due. Malone. I believe the plain meaning of the passage is this:—‘As previously we have found sufficient cause for lamentation, let us not waste the present time in superfluous sorrow.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 749 3If England to itself do rest but true.] This sentiment seems borrowed from the conclusion of the old play: “If England's peers and people join in one, “Nor pope, nor France, nor Spain, can do them wrong.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “&lblank; of itself “England is safe, if true within itself.” Such also was the opinion of the celebrated Duc de Rohan: “L'Angleterre est un grand animal qui ne peut jamais mourir s'il ne se tue lui mesme.” Steevens. Shakspeare's conclusion seems rather to have been borrowed from these two lines of the old play: “Let England live but true within itself, “And all the world can never wrong her state.” Malone. “Brother, brother, we may be both in the wrong.” This sentiment might originate from A Discourse of Rebellion, drawne forth for to warne the Wanton Wittes how to kepe their Heads on their Shoulders, by T. Churchyard, 12mo. 1570: “O Britayne bloud, marke this at my desire— “If that you sticke together as you ought “This lyttle yle may set the world at nought.” Steevens. This sentiment may be traced still higher: Andrew Borde, in his Fyrst Boke of the Introduction of Knowledge, bl. l. printed for Copland, sig. A 4, says, “They (i. e. the English) fare sumptuously; God is served in their churches devoutli, but treason and deceit amonge them is used craftyly, the more pitie, for if they were true wythin themselves they nede not to feare although al nacions were set against them, specialli now consydering our noble prince (i. e. Henry VIII.) hath and dayly dothe make noble defences, as castells,” &c. Again, in Fuimus Troes, 1633: “Yet maugre all, if we ourselves are true, “We may despise what all the earth can do.” Reed.

Note return to page 750 4The tragedy of King John, though not written with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and characters. The lady's grief is very affecting; and the character of the Bastard contains that mixture of greatness and levity which this author delighted to exhibit. Johnson.

Note return to page 751 *James Bindley, Esq. of the Stamp Office, one of Mr. Malone's most intimate and most valued friends. His zeal of literature, his indefatigable spirit of inquiry, his accurate knowledge, his amenity of temper, and benevolence of heart, made him the delight of all who knew him. He died at the advanced age of eighty. Sepember 11th, 1818. Boswell.

Note return to page 752 †Mr. Douce. I subjoin this gentleman's observations on this subject from his valuable work, Illustrations of Shakspeare: &c. “The Voyage of Sir George Sommers to the Bermudas in the year 1609 has been already noticed with a view of ascertaining the time in which The Tempest was written; but the important particulars of his shipwreck, from which it is exceedingly probable that the outline of a considerable part of this play was borrowed, has been unaccountably overlooked. Several contemporary narratives of the above event were published, which Shakspeare might have consulted; and the conversation of the time might have furnished, or at least suggested, some particulars that are not to be found in any of the printed accounts. In 1610 Silvester Jourdan, an eye-witness, published A Discovery of the Barmudas, otherwise called the Isle of Divels: By Sir Thomas Gates, Sir Geo. Sommers, and Captayne Newport, with divers others. Next followed Strachey's Proceedings of the English Colonie in Virginia, 1612, 4to. and some other pamphlets of less moment. From these accounts it appears that the Bermudas had never been inhabited, but regarded as under the influence of inchantment; though an addition to a subsequent edition of Jourdan's work gravely states that they are not inchanted; that Sommers's ship had been split between two rocks; that during his stay on the island several conspiracies had taken place; and that a sea-monster in shape like a man had been seen, who had been so called after the monstrous tempests that often happened at Bermuda. In Stowe's Annals we have also an account of Sommers's shipwreck, in which this important passage occurs, “Sir George Sommers sitting at the stearne, seeing the ship desperate of reliefe, looking every minute when the ship would sinke, hee espied land, which according to his and Captaine Newport's opinion, they judged it should be that dreadfull coast of the Bermodes, which iland were of all nations said and supposed to bee inchanted and inhabited with witches and devills, which grew by reason of accustomed monstrous thunder, storm, and tempest, neere unto those ilands, also for that the whole coast is so wonderous dangerous of rockes, that few can approach them, but with unspeakable hazard of ship-wrack.” Now if some of these circumstances in the shipwreck of Sir George Sommers be considered, it may possibly turn out that they are “the particular and recent event which determined Shakspeare to call his play The Tempest,” instead of “the great tempest of 1612,” which has already been supposed to have suggested its name, and which might have happened after its composition. If this be the fact, the play was written between 1609 and 1614, when it was so illiberally and invidiously alluded to in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew-Fair.” Boswell.

Note return to page 753 *1. A briefe and true Relation of the Discoverie of the North Part of Virginia, being a most pleasant, fruitfull, and commodious, soile, made this present yeere 1602, by Captaine Bartholomew Gosnold, Captaine Bartholowmew Gilbert, and divers other gentlemen their associates, by the permission of the honourable Sir Walter Ralegh, &c. written by Mr. John Brereton, one of the voyage. 4to. 1662. 2. A prosperous Voyage on the Discovery of the North Part of Virginia. By Captain George Weymouth. 4to. 1605. 3. Nova Britannia, offering most excellent Fruites by planting in Virginia. 4to. 1609.—This tract was entered in the Stationers' Register, Feb. 17, 1608–9. 4. A good Speed to Virginia. By Robert Gray. Entered in the Stationers' Register, May 3, 1609. 5. A Sermon preached in London before the Right Hon. Lord Delaware, Lord Gov'nor and Captayn Gen'rall of Virginia, and others of his Ma'ties Councell for that Kingdome, 21st of Feb. last, entitled, A Newe Year's Gifte to Virginia.” Entered in the Stationers' Register, March 19, 1609–10. 6. Newes from Bermudas. This tract, which I have never seen, appears to have been that set forth by Thomas Gates, and was probably published in September or October 1610. My knowledge of the title is obtained from a manuscript marginal note in an old hand, in one of the pamphlets relative to Virginia, in the collection of my friend, Mr. Bindley. 7. Virginia News:—published before Oct. 1st, 1610, as appears by an assignment of that date, in the Stationers' Register. I am not sure that this and the next are not the same pamphlet. 8. A Discovery of the Bermudas, otherwise called the Isle of Divells, &c. by Sil. Jourdan, 4to. 1610. Republished with additions, in 1613. 9. A true Declaration of the Estate of the Colonie in Virginia, with a confutation of such scandalous reports as have tended to the disgrace of so worthy an enterprise. Published by advise and direction of the Councel of Virginia, 4to. 1610. Entered in the Stationers' Register, Nov. 8, 1610. 10. The Relation of the Right Honourable the Lord De-la-Ware, Lord Governour and Captaine Generall of the colonie planted in Virginea, 4to. 1612. Entered in the Stationers' Registers, by W. Welby, 1611, under the following title: The Relac'on of the Right Hon'ble the Lord Delaware, Lord Gove'nour of the Colony planted in Virginia, made to the LL. and others of the Counsell of Virginia, touchinge his unexpected returne home, &c. and afterwards delivered in the gen'rall assembly of the sayd Councell at a Courte holden the 25th of June, 1611; published by order of the sayd Councell. 11. A Ballad, called The Last News from Virginia, being an Encouragement to all others to follow that noble Enterprise, &c. Entered in the Stationers' Register by John Wright, August 16, 1611. 12. The New Life of Virginea, declaring the former Success and present Estate of that Plantation. 13. The Proceedings of the English Colonie in Virginia, from 1606 to the present Year 1612. By W. S. [W. Strachey.] 4to. 1612. This list, I believe, is far from being complete. In a letter written to the Earl of Shrewsbury, June 8, 1609, Dr. Tobias Mathew, Archbishop of York, says,—“Of Virginia there be so many tractates, divine, humane, historicall, politicall, or call them as you please, as no further intelligence I dare desire.” Lodge's Illustrations, &c. iii. 371.

Note return to page 754 *This is not quite correct. They sailed in fact, as will be seen hereafter, on the 8th of June.

Note return to page 755 †History of the first discovery and settlement of Virginia, by William Stith, A. M. 8vo. 1747, pp. 101, 102.

Note return to page 756 *To cunn a ship is to direct the person at the helm how to steer her. Kersey.

Note return to page 757 *One of the persons on board, whose narrative will be hereafter quoted, says, “only half a mile.”

Note return to page 758 *Ibid. pp. 113, 114.

Note return to page 759 *The New Life of Virginia, 4to. 1612.

Note return to page 760 *This pinnace, which Mr. Stith calls a small catch, was lost.

Note return to page 761 *“A true and sincere Declaration of the purpose and ends of the plantation begun in Virginia, of the degrees which it hath received, and meanes by which it hath been advanced; and the resolution and conclusion of his Majesties Council of that Colony, for the constant and patient prosecution thereof, untill by the mercies of God it shall retribute a fruitfull harvest to the kingdom of heaven and this commonwealth. Set forth by the authority of the Governors and Councellors established for that plantation.” 4to. 1610. This pamphlet was entered in the Stationers' Register by John Stepney on the 14th of December 1609, and was licensed by the Lord De la Ware, Sir Thomas Smith, [the Treasurer of the Company,] Sir Walter Cope, and Mr. Waterson, Warden of the Stationers' Company; and though, according to the custom of booksellers, with a forward aspect it bears the date of 1610, it is clear from this entry and the paragraph here quoted, that it was published either in Dec. 1609, or before Jan. 31, 1609–10.

Note return to page 762 *Imprinted, at London, by Thomas Hareland, for William Welby, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Church-yard, at the signe of the Swanne, 1610 [probably Jan. 1609–10,] a halfsheet.

Note return to page 763 *Mr. Strachey's letter, dated James-Town, July 7, 1610. MSS. Harl. 7009. art. 12. fol. 35.

Note return to page 764 †Escaet. 10 Jac. p. 2. n. 127. He died of too great fatigue and a surfeit of pork, which Bermuda so abundantly supplied. See the Proceedings of the English Colonye in Virginia, by W. S. 1612, p. 106; and Howe's continuation of Stowe's Chronicle. His body was brought to England in his own cedar vessel, and landed at Lyme, in Dorsetshire, and he was buried in the church or cemetery of Whitchurch Canonicorum, on the 4th of June, 1611; as appears by an entry in the Register of that parish, which the Rev. Mr. Tucker, in the year 1802, obligingly examined, at my request.

Note return to page 765 *By Sil. Jourdan, 4to. 1610.

Note return to page 766 †“A vessel of about 300 ton,” say Howes, in his Continuation of Stowe's Chronicle, 1615.

Note return to page 767 *Such is Jourdan's account; but it appears from other relations, that they built two cedar vessels at Bermuda. In that built by Somers (and probably in the other also) no iron was employed, except one bolt in her keel.

Note return to page 768 *“A true Declaration of the estate of the Colonie in Virginia, with a confutation of such scandalous reports as have tended to the disgrace of so worthy an enterprise. Published by advice and direction of the Councell of Virginia.” 4to. 1610. In “The New Life of Virginia,” 4to. 1612, this tract is ascribed to Sir Thomas Gates. Mr. Strachey, in a pamphlet already mentioned (see the note in p. 390, article 13,) speaks of it as the relation of him and those associated with him in command. In a subsequent page, I have called it Gates's narrative, as unquestionably a great part of the materials was furnished by him (the circumstance doubtless which induced the writer of “The New Life of Virginia” to be ascribed to him;) but I suspect that it was written by Sir Edwin Sandys, the well known author of Europæ Speculum, and a zealous promoter of the settlement in Virginia. In 1619 he was Treasurer of the Virginia Company.

Note return to page 769 *“A true Declaration of the estate of the Colonie in Virginia, &c. ut supra, 4to. 1610. This pamphlet was entered in the Stationers' Register by William Barret, Nov. 8, 1610; being licensed by Sir Maurice Berkeley, Sir George Capon, Mr. Ric. Martyn, and the Wardens.

Note return to page 770 †See the Essay on the Chronological Order of Shakspeare's Plays, vol. i.

Note return to page 771 *See p. 406.

Note return to page 772 †pp. 406 and 412.

Note return to page 773 ‡p. 406.

Note return to page 774 §p. 398.

Note return to page 775 &sign;p. 396.

Note return to page 776 *In the original, indeed, strong waters are drunk on shipboard by those who conceived that the ship was sinking; in the play, Stephano's liquor is sack, and it is drunk on the island after his escape. But Shakspeare, when he borrowed hints from others, often made such slight changes. Here, the change is easily accounted for: that pleasantry in which he delighted, could not with any propriety have been introduced among men, who supposed themselves at the point of death. In like manner, in the original, the mariners fall asleep from excessive labour, and the hatches are shut down, during the storm; but in the play, no mention is made of these circumstances in the first scene, where the ship is represented as sinking; but after the storm has ceased, and Alonzo and several of his associates are safely landed, Ariel informs Prospero that the mariners are safely stowed.

Note return to page 777 †Temperance, as Mr. Steevens has observed, is here used for temperature.

Note return to page 778 ‡pp. 407, 412.

Note return to page 779 §p. 406.

Note return to page 780 *Observations on the tempest, [by Mr. Holt] 8vo. 1749, p. 17. That writer, erroneously supposing this consummation to have taken place in 1610, seems here to ascribe this play to that year: afterwards (p. 67) he places it in 1614.

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