Note return to page 1 1Duke of Aumerle,] Aumerle, or Aumale, is the French for what we now call Albemarle, which is a town in Normandy. The old historians generally use the French title. Steevens.

Note return to page 2 2Earl Berkley.] It ought to be Lord Berkley. There was no Earl Berkley till some ages after. Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3Lord Ross.] Now spelt Roos, one of the Duke of Rutland's titles. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 4Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,] It may not be improper here to make an observation to which I shall have frequent occasion to refer. Our ancestors, in their estimate of old age, appear to have reckoned somewhat differently from us, and to have considered men as old whom we should now esteem middle aged. With them, every man that had passed fifty seems to have been accounted an old man. John of Gaunt, who is here introduced in that character with the additional of “time-honour'd Lancaster,” was at this time only 58 years old. He was born at Ghent in 1340, and our present play commences in 1398; he died in 1399, aged 59. King Henry is represented by Daniel, in his poem of Rosamond, as extremely old when he had a child by that lady. Henry was born at Mentz in 1133, and died on the 7th July, 1189, at the age of 56. Robert, Earl of Leicester, is called an old man by Spencer in a letter to Gabriel Harvey in 1582; at which time Leicester was not fifty years old: and the French Admiral Coligny is represented by his biographer, Lord Huntington, as a very old man, though at the time of his death he was but fifty-three. These various instances fully ascertain what has been stated, and account for the appellation here given to John of Gaunt. I believe this is made in some measure to arise from its being customary to enter into life, in former times, at an earlier period than we do now. Those who were married at fifteen, had at fifty been masters of a house and family for thirty-five years. Malone.

Note return to page 5 5&lblank; thy oath and band,] When these publick challenges were accepted, each combatant found a pledge for his appearance at the time and place appointed. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. iii. st. 3: “The day was set, that all might understand, “And pledges pawn'd the same to keep aright.” The old copies read band instead of bond. The former is right. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My master is arrested on a band.” Steevens. Band and bond were formerly synonymous. See note on The Comedy of Errors, Act IV. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 6 6Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son;] It is clear, from the original quarto copy of this play, 1597, where we constantly find Bolingbroke's title written Herford, that the author used the word as a dissyllable. Hardynge, in his Chronicle, always writes either Herford or Harford; and so also Rastal, in his Pastime of the People. This, therefore, we may be sure, was the pronunciation of Shakspeare's time, as well as of a preceding period. Malone.

Note return to page 7 7&lblank; Bolingbroke &lblank;] Drayton asserts that Henry Plantagenet, the eldest son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, was not distinguished by the name of Bolingbroke till after he had assumed the crown. Our ancient historians, in speaking of his contest with the Duke of Norfolk, denominate him Earl of Hereford. He was surnamed of Bolingbroke town, in Lincolnshire, from his having been born there about the year 1366. Malone.

Note return to page 8 8&lblank; by the cause you come;] i. e. you come on. The suppression of the preposition has been, on more than one occasion, shewn to have been frequent with Shakspeare. Boswell.

Note return to page 9 9&lblank; right-drawn &lblank;] Drawn in a right or just cause. Johnson.

Note return to page 10 1&lblank; inhabitable &lblank;] That is, not habitable, uninhabitable. Johnson. Ben Jonson uses the word in the same sense in his Catiline: “And pour'd on some inhabitable place.” Again, in Taylor the water-poet's Short Relation of a Long Journey, &c. “&lblank; there stands a strong castle, but the town is all spoil'd, and almost inhabitable by the late lamentable troubles.” Steevens. So also, Braithwaite, in his Survey of Histories, 1614: “Others, in imitation of some valiant knights, have frequented desarts and inhabited provinces.” Malone.

Note return to page 11 2&lblank; the king;] So the first quarto. The second quarto reads a king, and was followed by all subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 12 3What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.] So the quarto 1597. Quarto 1598, “What I have spoke, or thou canst devise.” Quarto 1608, “What I have spoke, or what thou canst devise.” Folio, “What I have spoken, or thou canst devise.” Boswell.

Note return to page 13 *Quarto 1608,—And when I mount alive, alive may I not light.

Note return to page 14 4&lblank; that can inherit us, &c.] To inherit is no more than to possess, though such a use of the word may be peculiar to Shakspeare. Again, in Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; such delight “Among fresh female buds shall you this night “Inherit at my house.” Steevens. See vol. vi. p. 28, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 15 4&lblank; for lewd employments,] Lewd here signifies wicked. It is so used in many of our old statutes. Malone. It sometimes signifies—idle. Thus, in King Richard III.: “But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.” Steevens.

Note return to page 16 5&lblank; the duke of Gloster's death;] Thomas of Woodstock, the youngest son of Edward III.; who was murdered at Calais, in 1397. Malone. See Froissart's Chronicle, vol. ii. cap. CC. xxvi. Steevens.

Note return to page 17 6Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;] i. e. prompt, set them on by injurious hints. Thus, in The Tempest: “They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 18 7&lblank; this slander of his blood,] i. e. this reproach to his ancestry. Steevens. To the king's ancestry, as Richard's answer shows. Malone.

Note return to page 19 8&lblank; my scepter's awe &lblank;] The reverence due to my scepter. Johnson.

Note return to page 20 9Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:] The Duke of Norfolk was joined in commission with Edward Earl of Rutland (the Aumerle of this play) to go to France in the year 1395, in the king's name, to demand in marriage (Isabel, the queen of our present drama) the eldest daughter of Charles the Sixth, then between seven and eight years of age. The contract of marriage was confirmed by the French King in March, 1396; and on November, 1396, Richard was married to his young consort in the chapel of St. Nicholas, in Calais, by &lblank;, Archbishop of Canterbury. His first wife, Anne, daughter to the Emperor of Germany, Charles the Fourth, whom he had married in 1382, died at Shene, on Whitsunday, 1394. His marriage with Isabella, as is manifest from her age, was merely political; and accordingly it was accompanied with an agreement for a truce between France and England, for thirty years. Malone.

Note return to page 21 1This we prescribe, though no physician; &c.] I must make one remark in general on the rhymes throughout this whole play; they are so much inferior to the rest of the writing, that they appear to me of a different hand. What confirms this, is, that the context does every where exactly (and frequently much better) connect, without the inserted rhymes, except in a very few places; and just there too, the rhyming verses are of a much better taste than all the others, which rather strengthens my conjecture. Pope. “This observation of Mr. Pope's (says Mr. Edwards) happens to be very unluckily placed here, because the context, without the inserted rhymes, will not connect at all. Read this passage as it would stand corrected by this rule, and we shall find, when the rhyming part of the dialogue is left out, King Richard begins with dissuading them from the duel; and in the very next sentence, appoints the time and place of their combat.” Mr. Edward's censure is rather hasty; for in the note, to which it refers, it is allowed that some rhymes must be retained to make out the connection. Steevens.

Note return to page 22 2Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.] Richard alludes to the almanacks of the time, where particular seasons were pointed out as the most proper time for being bled. Thus the first quarto, 1597. The folio has—“no time. &lblank;” But the above mentioned allusion shows that the original is the true reading. Malone.

Note return to page 23 3When, Harry?] This obsolete exclamation of impatience is likewise found in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “Fly into Affrick; from the mountains there, “Chuse me two venomous serpents: thou shalt know them: “By their fell poison and their fierce aspect. “When, Iris? “Iris. I am gone.” Again, in Look About You, 1600: “&lblank; I'll cut off thy legs, “If thou delay thy duty. When, proud John?” Steevens.

Note return to page 24 4&lblank; no boot.] That is, no advantage, no use, in delay, or refusal. Johnson.

Note return to page 25 5&lblank; my fair name, &c.] That is, ‘my name that lives on my grave, in despight of death.’ This easy passage most of the editors seem to have mistaken. Johnson.

Note return to page 26 6&lblank; and baffled here;] Baffled in this place means ‘treated with the greatest ignominy imaginable.’ So, Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 827, and 1218, or annis 1513, and 1570, explains it: “Bafulling,” says he, “is a great disgrace among the Scots, and it is used when a man is openlie perjured, and then they make of him an image painted, reversed, with his heels upward, with his name wondering, crieing, and blowing out of him with horns.” Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. iii. st. 37, and b. vi. c. vii. st. 27, has the word in the same signification. Tollet. The same expression occurs in Twelfth-Night, Sc. ult.: “Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled thee?” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I. Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me.” Again, in The London Prodigal, 1605: “&lblank; chil be abaffelled up and down the town, for a messel;” i. e. for a beggar, or rather a leper. Steevens.

Note return to page 27 7&lblank; Lions make leopards tame.] There is a peculiar allusion here which has not been noticed. The Norfolk crest was a golden leopard. Malone.

Note return to page 28 8&lblank; but not change his spots:] The old copies have—his spots. Mr. Pope altered it to their spots; but the change from the singular to the plural number was not uncommon in our poet's time. See the Essay on Shakspeare's phraseology. Malone.

Note return to page 29 9&lblank; with pale beggar-fear &lblank;] This is the reading of one of the oldest quartos, [quarto 1597] and the folio. The quartos 1608 and 1615, read—beggar-face; i. e. (as Dr. Warburton observes,) with a face of supplication. Steevens.

Note return to page 30 1The slavish motive &lblank;] Motive, for instrument. Warburton. Rather that which fear puts in motion. Johnson.

Note return to page 31 2&lblank; atone you.] i. e. reconcile you. So, in Cymbeline: “I was glad I did atone my countryman and you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 32 3Justice design &lblank;] Thus the old copies. Mr. Pope reads— “Justice decide,” but without necessity. Designo, Lat. signifies to mark out, to point out: “Notat designatque oculis ad cædem unumquemque nostrûm.” Cicero in Catilinam. Steevens. To design, in our author's time, signified to mark out. See Minsheu's Dict. in v.: “To designe or shew by a token. Ital. Denotare, Lat. Designare.” At the end of the article the reader is referred to the words “to marke, note, demonstrate, or shew.” —the word is still used with this signification in Scotland. Malone.

Note return to page 33 4Marshal, command, &c.] The old copies—Lord Marshal; but (as Mr. Ritson observes,) the metre requires the omission I have made. It is also justified by his Majesty's repeated address to the same officer, in Scene III. Steevens. “Lord Marshal.” Mr. Steevens, with his usual disregard of the ancient copies, omits the word Lord, forsooth to assist the metre; and he says, the omission is “justified by his Majesty's repeated address to the same officer in Sc. III.” We are therefore to suppose that whatever form of address the poet has used in one scene, must be likewise employed by him in every other! The truth is, the metre is such as the poet has used in innumerable other places. Malone.

Note return to page 34 5&lblank; Duchess of Gloster.] The Duchess of Gloster was Eleanor Bohun, widow of Duke Thomas, son of Edward III. Walpole.

Note return to page 35 6&lblank; the part I had &lblank;] That is, my relation of consanguinity to Gloster. Hanmer.

Note return to page 36 7&lblank; heaven; Who when he sees &lblank;] The old copies erroneously read: “Who when they see &lblank;.” I have reformed the text by example of a subsequent passage, p. 20: “&lblank; heaven's substitute, “His deputy, anointed in his sight,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 37 8One phial, &c.] Though all the old copies concur in the present regulation of the following lines, I would rather read:— “One phial full of Edward's sacred blood “Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spill'd; “One flourishing branch of his most royal root “Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded. Some of the old copies in this instance, as in many others, read vaded, a mode of spelling practised by several of our ancient writers. After all, I believe the transposition to be needless. Steevens.

Note return to page 38 9&lblank; thou dost consent, &c.] i. e. assent. So, in St. Luke's Gospel, xxiii. 51: “The same had not consented to the counsel and deed of them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 39 1&lblank; may I complain myself?] To complain is commonly a verb neuter, but it is here used as a verb active. So, in a very scarce book entitled A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels, &c. Translated from the French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton] Gentleman, 4to. 1578: “I coulde finde no companion, eyther to comforte me, or helpe to complaine my great sorrowe.” Again, p. 58: “&lblank; wyth greate griefe he complained the calamitie of his countrey.” Again, in The Queenes Majesties Entertainment in Suffolke and Norfolke, by Thomas Churchyard: “&lblank; Cupid encountring the Queene, beganne to complayne hys state and his mothers,” &c. Dryden also employs the word in the same sense in his Fables: “Gaufride, who couldst so well in rhyme complain “The death of Richard with an arrow slain.” Complain myself (as Mr. M. Mason observes,) is a literal translation of the French phrase, me plaindre. Steevens.

Note return to page 40 2Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.] The measure of this line being clearly defective, why may we not read?— “Why then I will. Now fare thee well, old Gaunt.” Or thus: “Why then I will. Farewell, old John of Gaunt.” There can be nothing ludicrous in a title by which the King has already addressed him. Ritson. Sir T. Hanmer completes the measure, by repeating the word —farewell, at the end of the line. Steevens.

Note return to page 41 3A caitiff recreant &lblank;] Caitiff originally signified a prisoner; next a slave, from the condition of prisoners; then a scoundrel, from the qualities of a slave: &GRHs;&grm;&gri;&grs;&gru; &grt;&grhc;&grst; &gras;&grr;&gre;&grt;&grhc;&grst; &gra;&grp;&gro;&gra;&gria;&grn;&gru;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grd;&gro;&grua;&grl;&gri;&gro;&grn; &grhsc;&grm;&gra;&grr;. In this passage it partakes of all these significations. Johnson. This just sentiment is in Homer; but the learned commentator quoting, I suppose, from memory, has compressed a couplet into a single line: &grH;&grm;&gri;&grs;&gru; &grg;&gra;&grr; &grt;&grap; &gra;&grr;&gre;&grt;&grh;&grst; &gra;&grp;&gro;&gra;&gri;&grn;&gru;&grt;&gra;&gri; &gre;&gru;&grr;&gru;&gro;&grp;&gra; &grZ;&gre;&gru;&grst; &grA;&grn;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grst;, &gre;&gru;&grt;&grap; &gra;&grn; &grm;&gri;&grn; &grk;&gra;&grt;&gra; &grd;&gro;&gru;&grl;&gri;&gro;&grn; &grh;&grm;&gra;&grr; &gre;&grl;&grh;&grs;&gri;&grn;. Odyss. lib. xvii. v. 322. Holt White. I do not believe that caitiff in our language ever signified a prisoner. I take it to be derived, not from captiff, but from chetif, Fr. poor, miserable. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 42 5&lblank; unfurnish'd walls,] In our ancient castles the naked stone walls were only covered with tapestry, or arras, hung upon tenter hooks, from which it was easily taken down on every removal of the family. See the preface to The Household Book of the Fifth Earl of Northumberland, begun in 1512. Steevens.

Note return to page 43 6&lblank; and what shall good old York there see, But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans?] Thus the first quarto, 1597; in those of 1598 and 1608, and in the folio, which appears to have been printed from the last mentioned quarto, hear was substituted in the fourth line for cheer; an alteration which was adopted in all the subsequent copies, till the true reading was noticed in the Appendix to my former edition. This passage furnishes an evident proof of the value of first editions; and also shows at how very early a period the revisers of Shakspeare's pieces began to tamper with his text, under the notion of improving it, or of correcting imaginary errors of the press; of which kind of temerity the edition of his Lucrece in 1616 is a very remarkable instance. Groans occurring in this passage, the reviser conceived that the word in the former part of the line where it is found, must have been hear, which gives a clear and plausible meaning; but certainly not that intended by Shakspeare. Mr. Steevens has rightly interpreted, in a preceding note, the words—unfurnish'd walls; but neither he nor any other editor has taken any notice of the word offices in this passage, which requires to be particularly explained, because it is immediately connected with the word cheer, and shows that the original reading is the true one. The offices of our old English mansions, as I have already had occasion to mention, vol. xiii. p. 305, n. 5, particularly denote the rooms designed for keeping the various stores of provisions, bread, wine, ale, &c. and for culinary purposes; that is, the butler's pantry, cellars, and kitchen; and they were always situated within the house, on the ground floor (for there were no subterraneous rooms till about the middle of the reign of Charles the First), and nearly adjoining to each other. When dinner had been set on the board by the sewers, the proper officers attended in each of these offices. Sometimes, on occasions of great festivity, these offices were all thrown open, and unlimited licence given to all comers to eat and drink at their pleasure. Thus, in Othello, where notice is given by a trumpeter, that, on account of the destruction of the Turkish Fleet, and in honour of the General's nuptials, every man was to put himself into triumph: “All offices are opened, and there is full licence from the present hour of five, till the bell hath toll'd eleven!” So also, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; So the gods bless me, “When all our offices have been oppress'd “With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept “With drunken spilth of wine, when every room “Has blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy, “I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock, “And set mine eyes at flow.” The Duchess of Gloster, therefore, laments, that in consequence of the murder of her husband, all the hospitality of plenty is at an end; “the walls are unfurnished, the lodging rooms empty, the courts untrodden, and the offices unpeopled; being now no longer filled by the proper officers, who attended daily to execute their several functions in her husband's life-time. All now (she adds,) is solitude and silence, and my groans are the only cheer that my guests can now expect.” Malone.

Note return to page 44 7&lblank; let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where:] Perhaps the pointing may be reformed without injury to the sense: “&lblank; let him not come there “To seek out sorrow:—that dwells every where.” Whalley.

Note return to page 45 8&lblank; Lord Marshal,] Shakspeare has here committed a slight mistake. The office of Lord Marshal was executed on this occasion by Thomas Holland, Duke of Surrey. Our author has inadvertently introduced that nobleman as a distinct person from the Marshal, in the present drama. Mowbray Duke of Norfolk was Earl Marshal of England; but being himself one of the combatants, the Duke of Surrey officiated as Earl Marshal for the day. Malone.

Note return to page 46 9&lblank; Aumerle.] Edward Duke of Aumerle, so created by his cousin german, King Richard II. in 1397. He was the eldest son of Edward of Langley Duke of York, fifth son of King Edward the Third, and was killed in 1415, at the battle of Agincourt. He officiated at the lists of Coventry, as High Constable of England. Malone.

Note return to page 47 1As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!] i. e. as you hope that heaven and your valour may defend you. Thus the original quarto, 1597, and the other ancient copies. Mr. Rowe and the subsequent editors read—And so, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 48 2Norfolk.] Mr. Edwards, in his MS. notes, observes, from Holinshed, that the Duke of Hereford, appellant, entered the lists first; and this, indeed, must have been the regular method of the combat; for the natural order of things requires, that the accuser or challenger should be at the place of appointment first. Steevens.

Note return to page 49 3&lblank; my succeeding issue,] His is the reading of the first folio; other editions read—my issue. Mowbray's issue was, by this accusation, in danger of an attainder, and therefore he might come, among other reasons, for their sake: but the reading of the folio is more just and grammatical. Johnson. The three oldest quartos read my, which Mr. M. Mason prefers, because, says he, Mowbray subjoins— “To prove him, in defending of myself, “A traitor to my God, my king, and me.” Steevens. “&lblank; and my succeeding issue.” Thus the first quarto. The folio reads—his succeeding issue. The first quarto copy of this play, in 1597, being in general much more correct than the folio, and the quartos of 1608 and 1615, from the latter of which the folio appears to have been printed, I have preferred the elder reading. Malone.

Note return to page 50 4&lblank; Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,] Why not, as before: “Marshal, demand of yonder knight in arms.” The player, who varied the expression, was probably ignorant that he injured the metre. The insertion, however, of two little words would answer the same purpose: “Marshal, go ask of yonder knight in arms.” Ritson.

Note return to page 51 *Quarto 1597, the dead.

Note return to page 52 5&lblank; waxen coat,] Waxen may mean soft, and consequently penetrable, or flexible. The brigandines or coats of mail, then in use, were composed of small pieces of steel quilted over one another, and yet so flexible as to accommodate the dress they form to every motion of the body. Of these many are still to be seen in the Tower of London. Steevens. The object of Bolingbroke's request is, that the temper of his lance's point might as much exceed the mail of his adversary, as the iron of that mail was harder than wax. Henley. I do not perceive how this meaning can be drawn from the words in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 53 6And furbish &lblank;] Thus the quartos 1608 and 1615. The folio reads—furnish. Either word will do, as to furnish in the time of Shakspeare signified to dress. So, twice in As You Like It: “furnished like a huntsman.”—“&lblank; furnished like a beggar.” Steevens. The original quarto, 1597, reads furbish. Malone.

Note return to page 54 7Fall like amazing thunder on the casque &lblank;] To amaze, in ancient language, signifies to stun, to confound. Thus, in Arthur Hall's translation of the third Iliad, 4to. 1581: “And striking him upon the helme, his foe amazed makes.” See also, King John, Act IV. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 8Mine innocency,] Old copies—innocence. Corrected by Mr. Capell. So, in King Richard III.: “God and mine innocency defend my right.”

Note return to page 56 9This feast of battle &lblank;] “War is death's feast,” is a proverbial saying. See Ray's Collection. Steevens. I apprehend there is no allusion to this image here; Norfolk means that he would so willingly engage in battle that he would consider it as a feast. Boswell.

Note return to page 57 1As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,] Not so neither. We should read to just; i. e. to tilt or tourney, which was a kind of sport too. Warburton. The sense would perhaps have been better if the author had written what his commentator substitutes; but the rhyme, to which sense is too often enslaved, obliged Shakspeare to write jest, and obliges us to read it. Johnson. The commentators forget that to jest sometimes signifies in old language to play a part in a mask. Thus, in Hieronymo: “He promised us in honour of our guest, “To grace our banquet with some pompous jest.” And accordingly a mask is performed. Farmer. Dr. Farmer has well explained the force of this word. So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI.: “&lblank; as if the tragedy “Were play'd in jest by counterfeited actors.” Tollet.

Note return to page 58 2&lblank; hath thrown his warder down.] A warder appears to have been a kind of truncheon carried by the person who presided at these single combats. So, in Daniel's Civil Wars, &c. b. i.: “When lo, the king, suddenly chang'd his mind, “Casts down his warder to arrest him there.” Steevens.

Note return to page 59 3With that dear blood which it hath fostered;] The quarto 1615, reads— “With that dear blood which it hath been foster'd.” Perhaps the author wrote— “With that dear blood with which it hath been foster'd.” But the other quartos and the folio read as in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 60 4Of cruel wounds, &c.] The quarto copy now before me, 1597, and the folio, read—“Of civil wounds.” But Mr. Capell's quarto copy of the same date, (now in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge,) and printed by the same printer, has— cruell instead of civill; which must have been an alteration made while the play was working off, and therefore I imagine was made in conformity to the manuscript. However, the very contrary may have been the case; and the printer, after having worked off Mr. Capell's copy, might have discovered his mistake, and printed civil in all the subsequent copies, on finding that to be the author's word. As I have never seen another copy but these two, I have no means of ascertaining this point. However, as the word cruel furnishes a new idea, I have adopted it: “Wounds made by neighbour's swords,” were necessarily civil wounds. The folio gives no additional strength to this reading; for that copy merely followed the quarto of 1608, where the reading is civil. Swords is the reading of the folio. The original quarto has— sword. Malone.

Note return to page 61 5And for we think the eagle-winged pride, &c.] These five verses are omitted in the other editions, and restored from the first of 1598. Pope. Mr. Pope is not quite correct. The first quarto was in 1597; the five lines in question are in that copy, and in all the other quartos, 1598, 1608, and 1615. They were omitted in the folio, doubtless merely for the purpose of shortening the speech. By the omission, the speech was rendered unintelligible: for the words—“Which so rous'd up,” &c. are immediately connected with “gentle sleep,” in the preceding line, and do not afford any meaning when connected with “civil wounds,” above. Malone.

Note return to page 62 6&lblank; set you on &lblank;] The old copy reads—on you. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone. I see no necessity for any alteration. Boswell.

Note return to page 63 *Quarto 1597, harsh resounding arms.

Note return to page 64 7To wake our peace, &lblank; Which so rous'd up &lblank; Might &lblank; fright fair peace,] Thus the sentence stands in the common reading absurdly enough; which made the Oxford editor, instead of “fright fair peace,” read, be affrighted; as if these latter words could ever, possibly, have been blundered into the former by transcribers. But his business is to alter as his fancy leads him, not to reform errors, as the text and rules of criticism direct. In a word then, the true original of the blunder was this: the editors, before Mr. Pope, had taken their editions from the folios, in which the text stood thus: “&lblank; the dire aspect “Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour swords; “Which so rouz'd up &lblank; “&lblank; fright fair peace.” This is sense. But Mr. Pope, who carefully examined the first printed plays in quarto, (very much to the advantage of his edition,) coming to this place, found five lines, in the first edition of this play, printed in 1598, omitted in the first general collection of the poet's works; and, not enough attending to their agreement with the common text, put them into their place. Whereas, in truth, the five lines were omitted by Shakspeare himself, as not agreeing to the rest of the context; which, on revise, he thought fit to alter. On this account I have put them into hooks, not as spurious, but as rejected on the author's revise; and, indeed, with great judgment; for— “To wake our peace which in our country's cradle “Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep,” as pretty as it is in the image, is absurd in the sense: for peace awake is still peace, as well as when sleep. The difference is, that peace asleep gives one the notion of a happy people sunk in sloth and luxury, which is not the idea the speaker would raise, and from which state the sooner it was awaked the better. Warburton. To this note, written with such an appearance of taste and judgement, I am afraid every reader will not subscribe. It is true, that “peace awake is still peace, as well as when asleep;” but peace awakened by the tumults of these jarring nobles, and peace indulging in profound tranquillity, convey images sufficiently opposed to each other for the poet's purpose. “To wake peace,” is to introduce discord. “Peace asleep,” is peace exerting its natural influence, from which it would be frighted by the clamours of war. Steevens.

Note return to page 65 7The fly-slow hours &lblank;] The old copies read—“The sly-slow hours.” Mr. Pope made the change; whether it was necessary or not, let the poetical reader determine. In Chapman's version of the second book of Homer's Odyssey, we have: “&lblank; and those slie hours “That still surprise at length.” It is remarkable, that Pope, in the 4th book of his Essay on Man, v. 226, has employed the epithet which, in the present instance, he has rejected: “All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes.” See Warton's edit. of Pope's Works, vol. iii. p. 145. Steevens. The latter word appears to me more intelligible:—“the thievish minutes as they pass.” Malone.

Note return to page 66 8A dearer merit, not so deep a maim &lblank; Have I deserved &lblank;] To deserve a merit is a phrase of which I know not any example. I wish some copy would exhibit: “A dearer meed, and not so deep a maim.” To deserve a meed or reward, is regular and easy. Johnson. As Shakspeare uses merit in this place, in the sense of reward, he frequently uses the word meed, which properly signifies reward, to express merit. So, in Timon of Athens, Lucullus says: “&lblank; no meed but he repays “Seven fold above itself.” And in The Third Part of King Henry VI. Prince Edward says: “We are the sons of brave Plantagenet, “Each one already blazing by our meeds.” And again, in the same play, King Henry says: “That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 67 9&lblank; compassionate;] For plaintive. Warburton.

Note return to page 68 1(Our part, &c.)] It is a question much debated amongst the writers of the law of nations, whether a banished man may be still tied in his allegiance to the state which sent him into exile. Tully and Lord Chancellor Clarendon declare for the affirmative; Hobbes and Puffendorf hold the negative. Our author, by this line, seems to be of the same opinion. Warburton.

Note return to page 69 2&lblank; advised &lblank;] i. e. concerted, deliberated. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; with more advised watch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 70 3Norfolk, so far, &c.] I do not clearly see what is the sense of this abrupt line; but suppose the meaning to be this: Hereford immediately after his oath of perpetual enmity, addresses Norfolk, and, fearing some misconstruction, turns to the King, and says—“so far as to mine enemy,”—that is, ‘I should say nothing to him but what enemies may say to each other.’ Reviewing this passage, I rather think it should be understood thus. ‘Norfolk, so far I have addressed myself to thee as to mine enemy; I now utter my last words with kindness and tenderness; Confess thy treasons.’ Johnson. “&lblank; so fare, as to mine enemy.” i. e. he only wishes him to fare like his enemy, and he disdains to say fare well as Aumerle does in the next scene. Tollet. Surely fare was a misprint for farre, the old spelling of the word now placed in the text.—Perhaps the author intended that Hereford in speaking this line should show some courtesy to Mowbray;—and the meaning may be: ‘So much civility as an enemy has a right to, I am willing to offer to thee.’ Malone. Sir T. Hanmer's marginal direction is—In salutation. Steevens. The first folio reads fare; the second farre. Bolingbroke only uses the phrase by way of caution, lest Mowbray should think he was about to address him as a friend. Norfolk, says he, so far as a man may speak to his enemy, &c. Ritson.

Note return to page 71 4&lblank; this frail sepúlchre of our flesh,] So, afterwards: “&lblank; thou King Richard's tomb, “And not King Richard &lblank;.” And Milton, in Samson Agonistes: “Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.” Henley.

Note return to page 72 5&lblank; all the world's my way.] Perhaps Milton had this in his mind when he wrote these lines: “The world was all before them, where to choose “Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.” Johnson. The Duke of Norfolk after his banishment went to Venice, where, says Holinshed, “for thought and melancholy he deceased.” Malone. I should point the passage thus: “&lblank; Now no way can I stray, “Save back to England:—all the world's my way.” There's no way for me to go wrong, except back to England. M. Mason. Most certainly, by such a punctuation, the poet's meaning would be lost. Malone.

Note return to page 73 6And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow:] It is matter of very melancholy consideration, that all human advantages confer more power of doing evil than good. Johnson.

Note return to page 74 7&lblank; upon good advice,] Upon great consideration. Malone. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “But with advice and silent secrecy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 75 8&lblank; a party-verdict gave;] i. e. you had yourself a part or share in the verdict that I pronounced. Malone.

Note return to page 76 9O, had it been a stranger,] This couplet is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 77 1A partial slander &lblank;] That is, the reproach of partiality. This is a just picture of the struggle between principle and affection. Johnson. This couplet, which is wanting in the folio edition, has been arbitrarily placed by some of the modern editors at the conclusion of Gaunt's speech. In the three oldest quartos it follows the fifth line of it. In the fourth quarto, which seems copied from the folio, the passage is omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 78 *Quarto 1597, aboundant.

Note return to page 79 2Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make &lblank;] This, and the six verses which follow, I have ventured to supply from the old quarto. The allusion, it is true, to an apprenticeship, and becoming a journeyman, is not in the sublime taste; nor, as Horace has expressed it: “spirat tragicum satis:” however, as there is no doubt of the passage being genuine, the lines are not so despicable as to deserve being quite lost. Theobald.

Note return to page 80 *Quartos, 1598, 1608, and 1615, what deal.

Note return to page 81 3&lblank; journeyman to grief?] I am afraid our author in this place designed a very poor quibble, as journey signifies both travel and a day's work. However, he is not to be censured for what he himself rejected. Johnson. The quarto, in which these lines are found, is said in its title-page to have been corrected by the author; and the play is indeed more accurately printed than most of the other single copies. There is now, however, no certain method of knowing by whom the rejection was made. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has here made a great mistake. The lines in question are found in the first quarto of 1597, and continued in those of 1598, 1608, and 1615, all of which are now before me; but what these late copies read, what they insert, or what they omit, it is quite loss of time to examine. Not the smallest authority belongs to them; nor would they carry any with them, even if their title-pages announced that they were revised and corrected by the author. But the title-pages of not one of these copies contains any such assertion: though in some other of his plays, the booksellers were hardy enough to add those words. Unquestionably, Shakspeare never revised a single quarto copy of any of his plays, whether in a first or second edition; nor is the edition of Romeo and Juliet, in 1599, an exception to this assertion. It was not revised by him, but printed from an enlarged and corrected copy. To suppose that he did, is to shut our eyes to his habits, character, and history. He suffered plays to be imputed to him (with his name affixed to them), of which he had not written a word. When Thorpe, a bookseller, in 1609, printed his beautiful poem, entitled The Lover's Complaint, together with his Sonnets, in the most incorrect manner, he never took the trouble to print a second edition, or even to point out the numerous errors of the press with which these pieces abound. Can it then be supposed that he would revise or correct the second or third editions of such of his plays as had been fraudulently obtained from the players, against his will, and against his interest? Malone.

Note return to page 82 4All places that the eye of heaven visits, &c.] So, Nonnus: &gra;&gri;&grq;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grst; &gro;&grm;&grm;&gra;: i. e. the sun. Steevens. So, in Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, 1593: “And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, “With burning eye did hotly overlook them.” Again, in his Lucrece, 1594: “The eye of heaven is out.” So also Spencer, Faery Queen, b. i. c. iii. st. 4: “&lblank; Her angel face, “As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright.” Malone. The fourteen verses that follow are found in the first edition. Pope. The whole of this speech and the preceding one, are omitted in the folio; but they are found in all the quartos. Boswell. I am inclined to believe that what Mr. Theobald and Mr. Pope have restored were expunged in the revision by the author: If these lines are omitted, the sense is more coherent. Nothing is more frequent among dramatic writers, than to shorten their dialogues for the stage. Johnson.

Note return to page 83 5&lblank; did banish thee;] Read: “Therefore, think not, the king did banish thee.” Ritson.

Note return to page 84 6Think not, the king did banish thee; But thou the king:] The same thought occurs in Coriolanus: “I banish you.” M. Mason. “All places that the eye of heaven visits, “Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:— “Think not, the king did banish thee; “But thou the king.” Shakspeare, when he wrote the passage before us, probably remembered that part of Lyly's Euphues, 1579, in which Euphues exhorts Botonio to take his exile patiently. Among other arguments he observes, that “Nature hath given to man a country no more than she hath a house, or lands, or livings. Socrates would neither call himself an Athenian, neither a Græcian, but a citizen of the world. Plato would never accompt him banished, that had the sunne, fire, ayre, water, and earth, that he had before; where he felt the winter's blast, and the summer's blaze; where the same sunne and the same moone shined: whereby he noted that every place was a country to a wise man, and all parts a palace to a quiet mind.—When it was cast in Diogenes' teeth, that the Sinoponetes had banished him Pontus, yea, said he, I them of Diogenes.” Malone.

Note return to page 85 7&lblank; the presence strew'd;] Shakspeare has other allusions to the ancient practice of strewing rushes over the floor of the presence chamber. Henley. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; Tarquin thus “Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd “The chastity he wounded &lblank;.” Steevens. See Hentzner's account of the presence chamber, in the palace at Greenwich, 1598. Itinerar. p. 135. Malone.

Note return to page 86 8Than a delightful measure,] A measure was a formal court dance. So, in King Richard III.: “Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.” Steevens. It is described by our author as being “full of state and ancientry.” See Much Ado About Nothing, vol. vii. p. 36. Malone.

Note return to page 87 9O, who can hold a fire in his hand, &c.] Fire is here, as in many other places, used as a dissyllable. Malone. It has been remarked, that there is a passage resembling this in Tully's Fifth Book of Tusculan Questions. Speaking of Epicurus, he says:—“Sed unâ se dicit recordatione acquiescere præteritarum voluptatum: ut si quis æstuans, cum vim caloris non facile patiatur, recordari velit se aliquando in Arpinati nostro gelidis fluminibus circumfusum fuisse. Non enim video, quomodo sedare possint mala præsentia præteritæ voluptates.” The Tusculan Questions of Cicero had been translated early enough for Shakspeare to have seen them. Steevens. The Tusculan Questions were translated by John Dolman, and published in 1561. Shakspeare, however, I believe, was thinking on the words of Lyly, which are found in the page preceding that from which an extract has been already made: “I speake this to this end, that though thy exile seem grievous to thee, yet guiding thy selfe with the rules of philosophie, it shall be more tolerable: he that is colde doth not cover himselfe with care but with clothes; he that is washed in the rayne, drieth himselfe by the fire, not by his fancie; and thou which art banished,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 88 *Quarto 1597, he bites.

Note return to page 89 1&lblank; yet a trueborn Englishman.] Here the first Act ought to end, that between the first and second Acts there may be time for John of Gaunt to accompany his son, return, and fall sick. Then the first scene of the second Act begins with a natural conversation, interrupted by a message from John of Gaunt, by which the King is called to visit him, which visit is paid in the following scene. As the play is now divided, more time passes between the last two scenes of the first Act, than between the first Act and the second. Johnson.

Note return to page 90 2We did observe.—] The King here addresses Green and Bagot, who we may suppose had been talking to him of Bolingbroke's “courtship to the common people,” at the time of his departure. “Yes, (says Richard,) we did observe it.” Malone.

Note return to page 91 3'Faith, none for me:] i. e. none on my part. Thus, we say, “For me, I am content;” Where those words have the same signification as here. Thus the authentick copies, the quarto 1597, and the folio 1623. The reviser of the second folio, 1632, who altered whatever he did not understand, substituted—by me, instead of the words in the text, and has been followed by all the subsequent editors. Malone. If we read—for me, the expression will be equivocal, and seem as if it meant—no tears were shed on my account. So, in the preceding scene: “O, let no noble eye profane a tear “For me,” &c. Steevens. According to the doctrine here laid down, if the words of an author clearly and precisely admit of the meaning which he intends to convey, but at the same time may also bear a different sense, we are always to suppose that the passage is corrupt. I conceive, however, that if a writer has expressed his meaning, in proper and significant words, he may rest satisfied, though the words may be distorted to another sense from that which he intended. Malone.

Note return to page 92 3Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,] The first quarto, 1597, has only—“Ourself and Bushy,” in which way the line appears in the subsequent quartos of 1597, 1608, and 1615. The folio reads: “Ourself, and Bushy here, Bagot, and Greene.” Which was perhaps what the author wrote, intending to point differently, by placing a comma after here; for it appears from the scenical direction of the quarto 1597, that Bushy was now on the stage: “Enter the King, with Bushie,” &c. But in the folio the direction is “Enter the King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot,” because it was observed that Bushy comes in afterwards with news (as the old quarto terms it.) On this account we cannot read Bushy here, and are obliged to adopt a transposition made in the quarto 1634: “Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green.” Malone.

Note return to page 93 4&lblank; the tribute of his supple knee,] To illustrate this phrase, it should be remembered that courtesying, (the act of reverence now confined to women,) was anciently practised by men. Steevens.

Note return to page 94 5And he our subjects' next degree in hope.] Spes altera Romæ. Virg. Malone.

Note return to page 95 6Expedient &lblank;] i. e. expeditious. So, in King John: “His marches are expedient to this town.” Steevens.

Note return to page 96 7&lblank; for our coffers &lblank;] i. e. because. So, at the beginning of this scene: “And, for my heart disdained that my tongue,” &c. Again, in Othello: “&lblank; Haply, for I am black &lblank;:” Steevens.

Note return to page 97 8&lblank; the Duke of York,] Edmond Duke of York was the fifth son of Edward the Third, and was born in 1441, at Langley, near St. Alban's, in Hertford, from whence he had his surname. This prince, as Bishop Lowth has observed, (Life of William of Wykeham, 8vo. 1777, p. 205,) “was of an indolent disposition, a lover of pleasure, and averse to business; easily prevailed upon to lie still, and consult his own quiet, and never acting with spirit upon any occasion.” That such was his disposition and character is ascertained by the following graphical description, given by Harding (a contemporary) in his Chronicle: “That Edmonde hight of Langley, of good chere “Glede and mery, and of his owne ay lived “Withoutyn wronge, as chroniclers have breved. “When al lordes went to counsels and parlement, “He wolde to huntes and also to hawkynge, “All gentilnes disporte that myrth appent “He used aie, and to the poor supportynge, “Wherever he wase in any place bidynge, “Withoute supprise or any extorcion, “Of the porayle or any oppression. “The kynge than made the Duke of Yorke be name “Maister of the Mewhouse, and of hawkes feire, “Of his venerie and maister of his game. “In whatt cuntraie that he dyde repeire, “Whiche wase to hym withoute any dispeyre, “With more comforte and a gretter gladnes neire, “Than been a lorde of worldly great riches.” Hardyng's Chronicle, MS. Harleian. No. 661, fol. 147. Malone.

Note return to page 98 9&lblank; at the close,] This I suppose to be a musical term. So, in Lingua, 1607: “I dare engage my ears, the close will jar.” Steevens.

Note return to page 99 *Quarto 1597, As praises of whose taste the wise are found.

Note return to page 100 1Lascivious metres;] The old copies have—meeters; but I believe we should read metres for verses. Thus the folio spells the word metre in The First Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; one of these same meeter ballad-mongers.” Venom sound agrees well with lascivious ditties, but not so commodiously with one who meets another; in which sense the word appears to have been generally received. Steevens.

Note return to page 101 2Report of fashions in proud Italy;] Our author, who gives to all nations the customs of England, and to all ages the manners of his own, has charged the times of Richard with a folly not perhaps known then, but very frequent in Shakspeare's time, and much lamented by the wisest and best of our ancestors. Johnson.

Note return to page 102 3Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.] Where the will rebels against the notices of the understanding. Johnson.

Note return to page 103 4&lblank; whose way himself will choose;] Do not attempt to guide him, who, whatever thou shalt say, will take his own course. Johnson.

Note return to page 104 5&lblank; rash &lblank;] That is, hasty, violent. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Like aconitum, or rash gunpowder.” Malone.

Note return to page 105 6Against infection,] I once suspected that for infection we might read invasion; but the copies all agree, and I suppose Shakspeare meant to say, that islanders are secured by their situation both from war and pestilence. Johnson. In Allot's England's Parnassus, 1600, this passage is quoted: “Against intestion,” &c. Perhaps the word might be infestion, if such a word was in use. Farmer. For the substitution of the word infestion, which was suggested by Dr. Farmer, and differs from the original word but by a single letter, I am answerable. Since the year 1665, this happy island has been entirely free from the plague; and if ever we should be again molested by that fatal malady, it will unquestionably arise from infection communicated from foreign parts. A poet therefore of the present day, in speaking of Great Britain, might naturally mention its being, by its insular situation, exempt from that contagion to which the natives of the continent are exposed; and also from the hostile incursions of its enemies. But in our poet's time there was in London every year an indigenous plague, if I may use the expression, from May till October; and a considerable number of the inhabitants were annually destroyed by this malignant disease. Shakspeare, therefore, I conceive, would never mention the circumstance of our being secured, by our insular situation, from foreign infection, as a fortunate circumstance, knowing that such security availed nothing; since, notwithstanding our being possessed of a fortress built by nature for herself, our own native pestilence was annually extremely destructive. I think, therefore, that in both parts of this line, he had only one circumstance in his thoughts, our not being exposed to foreign hostile incursions; and the copulative and seems to countenance this supposition. I may add, that the preceding verse strongly supports this notion; for a natural fortress, such as is here described, is opposed properly and immediately to the open hostile attacks of an enemy, and not to the lurking infection of the plague, which seems here entirely out of place. Though I have not met with an example of the use of the word infestion, in the sense of infestation, similar abbreviations occur in other places in our author's plays: thus we have probal for probable in Othello, and captious for capacious in All's Well That Ends Well. In like manner, Bishop Hall, in his Cases of Conscience, 8vo. p. 202, edit. 1651, uses acception for acceptation: “Against infestion, and the hand of warriors; against the infesting or assailing force of an enemy.” I shall only add, that Bacon employs the word infestation in the same sense. “Touching the infestation of pirates he hath been careful, and is.” Speech in the Star-chamber, 1617. Works, iv. 278, Mallet's edition. Malone.

Note return to page 106 7&lblank; less happier lands;] So read all the editions, except Sir T. Hanmer's, which has less happy. I believe, Shakspeare, from the habit of saying more happier, according to the custom of his time, inadvertently writ less happier. Johnson.

Note return to page 107 8Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,] The first edition in quarto, 1598, reads: “Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth.” The quarto in 1615: “Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth.” The first folio, though printed from the second quarto, reads as the first. The particles in this author seem often to have been printed by chance. Perhaps the passage, which appears a little disordered, may be regulated thus: “&lblank; royal kings, “Fear'd for their breed, and famous for their birth, “For Christian service, and true chivalry: “Renowned for their deeds as far from home “As is the sepulchre &lblank;.” Johnson. The first folio could not have been printed from the second quarto, on account of many variations as well as omissions. The quarto 1608 has the same reading with that immediately preceding it. Steevens. Dr. Johnson was in an error in supposing the quarto of 1598 to be the first. The original copy was printed in 1597, and reads— “Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth.” “By their breed,” i. e. by means of their breed. There is some resemblance in the mode of expression between this passage and the following in The Farewell to Follie, one of the tracts of his predecessor Green's, which appeared in 1598: “My lordes and worthy peeres of Buda, feared for your valour and famous for your victories, let not the private will of one be the ruin of such a mighty kingdom.” Malone.

Note return to page 108 9This land &lblank; Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it,) Like to a tenement, or pelting farm:] “In this 22d yeare of King Richard (says Fabian,) the common fame ranne, that the kinge had letten to farm the realme unto Sir William Scrope, earle of Wiltshire, and then treasurer of England, to Syr John Bushey, Sir John Bagot, and Sir Henry Grene, knightes.” Malone. A pelting farm, is a small paltry farm. So, in Measure for Measure: “For every pelting petty officer, “Would use his heaven for thunder.” Malone.

Note return to page 109 1With inky blots,] I suspect that our author wrote—inky bolts? How can blots bind any thing? and do not bolts correspond better with bonds? Inky bolts are written restrictions. So, in The Honest Man's Fortune, by Beaumont and Fletcher, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; manacling itself “In gyves of parchment.” Steevens. “Inky blots,” is a contemptuous term for writings. Boswell.

Note return to page 110 2&lblank; rotten parchment bonds;] Alluding to the great sums raised by loans and other exactions, in this reign, upon the English subjects. Grey. Gaunt does not allude, as Grey supposes, to any loans or exactions extorted by Richard, but to the circumstances of his having actually farmed out his royal realm, as he himself styles it. In the last scene of the first Act he says: “And, for our coffers are grown somewhat light, “We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm.” And it afterwards appears that the person who farmed the realm was the Earl of Wiltshire, one of his own favourites. M. Mason.

Note return to page 111 3&lblank; Queen;] Shakspeare, as Mr. Walpole suggests to me, has deviated from historical truth in the introduction of Richard's queen as a woman in the present piece; for Anne, his first wife, was dead before the play commences, and Isabella, his second wife, was a child at the time of his death. Malone.

Note return to page 112 4&lblank; Aumerle,] Was Edward, eldest son of Edmund Duke of York, whom he succeeded in the title. He was killed at Agincourt. Walpole.

Note return to page 113 5&lblank; Ross,] Was William Lord Roos, (and so should be printed,) of Hamlake, afterwards Lord Treasurer to Henry IV. Walpole.

Note return to page 114 6&lblank; Willoughby.] Was William Lord Willoughby of Eresby, who afterwards married Joan, widow of Edmund Duke of York. Walpole.

Note return to page 115 7For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.] Read: “&lblank; being rein'd, do rage the more.” Ritson.

Note return to page 116 8Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.] I cannot help supposing that the idle words—to see, which destroy the measure, should be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 117 9Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.] Possess'd, in this second instance, was, I believe, designed to mean—afflicted with madness occasioned by the internal operation of a dæmon. So, in The Comedy of Errors:—“Both man and master is possess'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 118 1Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;] “State of law,” i. e. legal sovereignty. But the Oxford editor alters it to “state o'er law,” i. e. absolute sovereignty. A doctrine, which, if ever our poet learnt at all, he learnt not in the reign when this play was written, Queen Elizabeth's, but in the reign after it, King James's. By “bondslave to the law,” the poet means his being inslaved to his favourite subjects. Warburton. This sentiment, whatever it be, is obscurely expressed. I understand it differently from the learned commentator, being perhaps not quite so zealous for Shakspeare's political reputation. The reasoning of Gaunt, I think, is this: “By setting the royalties to farm thou hast reduced thyself to a state below sovereignty, thou art now no longer king but landlord of England, subject to the same restraint and limitations as other landlords: by making thy condition a state of law, a condition upon which the common rules of law can operate, thou art become a bondslave to the law; thou hast made thyself amenable to laws from which thou wert originally exempt.” Whether this explanation be true or no, it is plain that Dr. Warburton's explanation of “bondslave to the law,” is not true. Johnson. Warburton's explanation of this passage is too absurd to require confutation; and his political observation is equally ill-founded. The doctrine of absolute sovereignty might as well have been learned in the reign of Elizabeth, as in that of her successor. She was, in fact, as absolute as he wished to be. Johnson's explanation is in general just; but I think that the words, of law, must mean, by law, or according to law, as we say, of course, and of right, instead of by right, or by course. —Gaunt's reasoning is this—“Having let your kingdom by lease, you are no longer the king of England, but the landlord only; and your state is by law, subject to the law.” M. Mason. Mr. Heath explains the words “state of law,” somewhat differently: “Thy royal estate is now, in virtue of thy having leased it out, subjected,” &c. “Thy state of law,” may be briefly interpreted “thy legal state;” that rank in the state and these large demesnes which the constitution has allotted to thee, are now bond-slave to the law; being subject to the same legal restrictions as every ordinary pelting farm that has been let on lease. Malone.

Note return to page 119 3Gaunt. And thou— K. Rich. &lblank; a lunatick lean-witted fool,] In the disposition of these lines I had followed the folio, in giving the word thou to the king; but the regulation of the first quarto, 1597, is perhaps preferable, being more in our poet's manner: “Gaunt. And thou— “K. Rich. &lblank; a lunatick, lean-witted fool &lblank;.” And thou a mere cypher in thy own kingdom, Gaunt was going to say. Richard interrupts him, and takes the word thou in a different sense, applying it to Gaunt, instead of himself. Of this kind of retort there are various instances in these plays. The folio repeats the word And: “Gaunt. And— “K. Rich. And thou,” &c. Malone. “&lblank; lean-witted &lblank;” Dr. Farmer observes to me that the same expression occurs in the 106th Psalm: “&lblank; and sent leanness withal into their soul.” Steevens.

Note return to page 120 4And thy unkindness be like crooked age, To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.] Thus stand these lines in all the copies, but I think there is an error. Why should Gaunt, already old, call on any thing like age to end him? How can age be said to crop at once? How is the idea of crookedness connected with that of cropping? I suppose the poet dictated thus: “And thy unkindness be time's crooked edge “To crop at once &lblank;.” That is, ‘let thy unkindness be time's scythe to crop.’ Edge was easily confounded by the ear with age, and one mistake once admitted made way for another. Johnson. Shakspeare, I believe, took this idea from the figure of Time, who was represented as carrying a sickle as well as a scythe. A sickle was anciently called a crook, and sometimes, as in the following instances, crooked may mean armed with a crook. So, in Kendall's Epigrams, 1577: “The regall king and crooked clowne “All one alike death driveth downe.” Again, in the 100th Sonnet of Shakspeare: “Give my love, fame, faster than time wastes life, “So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.” Again, in the 119th: “Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks “Within his bending sickle's compass come.” It may be mentioned, however, that crooked is an epithet bestowed on age in the tragedy of Locrine, 1595: “Now yield to death o'erlaid by crooked age.” Locrine has been attributed to Shakspeare; and in this passage quoted from it, no allusion to a scythe can be supposed. Our poet's expressions are sometimes confused and abortive. Steevens. I do not believe that our author had the figure of Time in his thoughts; but merely gave to age the same epithet which is given to it by many of his contemporaries and predecessors. So, in A Flourish upon Fancie, by N. B. [Nicholas Breton,] 1577: “Who, when that he awhile hath bin in fancies schoole, “Doth learne in his old crooked age to play the doting foole.” Again, in Sylvester's translation of Dubartus, 4to. 1605, p. 251: “Fathers, if you desire your children sage “Should by their blessings blesse your crooked age.” Again, in Tuberville's Songs and Sonets, 8vo. 1567: “Would death would spare to spoyle,   “And crooked age to rase, “(As they are wont by course of kinde)   “P's beautie in this case.” Malone. Shakspeare had probably two different but kindred ideas in his mind; the bend of age, and the sickle of time, which he confounded together. M. Mason.

Note return to page 121 5Love they &lblank;] That is, ‘let them love.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 122 6'Beseech your majesty,] The old copies redundantly read— “I do beseech,” &c. Mr. Ritson would regulate the passage differently (and perhaps rightly,) by omitting the words—in him: “I do beseech your majesty, impute “His words to wayward sickliness and age.” Steevens.

Note return to page 123 7Northumberland.] Was Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. Walpole,

Note return to page 124 8What says he now?] I have supplied the adverb—now, (which is wanting in the old copy,) to complete the measure. Steevens. Of these short addresses in prose, in the midst of a metrical dialogue, we have numberless instances in Shakspeare, particularly in this very play. Malone.

Note return to page 125 9&lblank; our pilgrimage must be:] That is, ‘our pilgrimage is yet to come.’ M. Mason.

Note return to page 126 1&lblank; where no venom else,] This alludes to a tradition that St. Patrick freed the kingdom of Ireland from venomous reptiles of every kind. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, P. II. 1630: “&lblank; that Irish Judas, “Bred in a country where no venom prospers, “But in his blood.” Again, in Fuimus Troes, 1633: “As Irish earth doth poison poisonous beasts.” See also, Thomas Lupton's Fourth Book of Notable Things, 4to. bl. l. Steevens.

Note return to page 127 2Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke About his marriage,] When the duke of Hereford, after his banishment, went into France, he was honourably entertained at that court, and would have obtained in marriage the only daughter of the duke of Berry, uncle to the French king, had not Richard prevented the match. Steevens.

Note return to page 128 3Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;] i. e. when he was of thy age. Malone.

Note return to page 129 4&lblank; to sue His livery,] On the death of every person who held by knight's service, the escheator of the court in which he died summoned a jury, who inquired what estate he died seized of, and of what age his next heir was. If he was under age, he became a ward of the king's; but if he was found to be of full age, he then had a right to sue out a writ of ouster le main, that is, his livery, that the king's hand might be taken off, and the land delivered to him. Malone.

Note return to page 130 5&lblank; deny his offer'd homage,] That is, ‘refuse to admit the homage, by which he is to hold his lands.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 131 5And lost their hearts:] The old copies erroneously and unmetrically read: “And quite lost their hearts.” The compositor's eye had caught the adverb—quite, from the following line. Steevens.

Note return to page 132 6&lblank; daily new exactions are devis'd; As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:] Stow records, that Richard II. “compelled all the Religious, Gentlemen, and Commons, to set their seales to blankes, to the end he might, if it pleased him, oppresse them severally, or all at once: some of the Commons paid 1000 markes, some 1000 pounds,” &c. Chronicle, p. 319, fol. 1639. Holt White.

Note return to page 133 7&lblank; we hear this fearful tempest sing,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; another storm brewing; I hear it sing in the wind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 134 8And yet we strike not,] To strike the sails, is, to contract them when there is too much wind. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 135 9&lblank; but securely perish.] We perish by too great confidence in our security. The word is used in the same sense in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Though Page be a secure fool,” &c. Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida, Act IV. Sc. V.: “'Tis done like Hector, but securely done.” See Dr. Farmer's note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 1And unavoided is the danger &lblank;] Unavoided is, I believe, here used for unavoidable. Malone.

Note return to page 137 2[The son of Richard Earl of Arundel,] That late broke from the duke of Exeter,] I suspect that some of these lines are transposed, as well as that the poet has made a blunder in his enumeration of persons. No copy, that I have seen, will authorize me to make an alteration, though according to Holinshed, whom Shakspeare followed in great measure, more than one is necessary. All the persons enumerated in Holinshed's account of those who embarked with Bolingbroke, are here mentioned with great exactness, except “Thomas Arundell, sonne and heire to the late earle of Arundell, beheaded at the Tower-hill.” See Holinshed. And yet this nobleman, who appears to have been thus omitted by the poet, is the person to whom alone that circumstance relates of having “broke from the duke of Exeter,” and to whom alone, of all mentioned in the list, the archbishop was related, he being uncle to the young lord, though Shakspeare by mistake calls him his brother. See Holinshed, p. 496. From these circumstances here taken notice of, which are applicable only to this lord in particular, and from the improbability that Shakspeare would omit so principal a personage in his historian's list, I think it can scarce be doubted but that a line is lost in which the name of this Thomas Arundel had originally a place. Mr. Ritson, with some probability, supposes Shakspeare could not have neglected so fair an opportunity of availing himself of a rough ready-made verse which offers itself in Holinshed: “[The son and heir of the late earl of Arundel,]” Steevens. For the insertion of the line included within crotchets, I am answerable; it not being found in the old copies. The passages in Holinshed relative to this matter run thus: “Aboute the same time the Earl of Arundell's sonne, named Thomas, which was kept in the Duke of Exeter's house, escaped out of the realme, by meanes of one William Scot,” &c. “Duke Henry,—chiefly through the earnest persuasion of Thomas Arundell, late Archbishoppe of Canterburie, (who, as before you have heard, had been removed from his sea, and banished the realme by King Richardes means,) got him downe to Britaine:—and when all his provision was made ready, he tooke the sea, together with the said Archbishop of Canterburie, and his nephew Thomas Arundelle, sonne and heyre to the late Earle of Arundelle, beheaded on Tower-hill. There were also with him Reginalde Lord Cobham, Sir Thomas Erpingham,” &c. Holinshed, p. 1105, edit. 1577. There cannot, therefore, I think, be the smallest doubt, that a line was omitted in the copy of 1597, by the negligence of the transcriber or compositor, in which not only Thomas Arundel, but his father, was mentioned; for his in a subsequent line (His brother) must refer to the old Earl of Arundel. Rather than leave a lacuna, I have inserted such words as render the passage intelligible. In Act V. Sc. II. of the play before us, a line of a rhyming couplet was passed over by the printer of the first folio: “Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace.” It has been recovered from the quarto. So also, in K. Henry VI. Part II. the first of the following lines was omitted, as is proved by the old play on which that piece is founded, and (as in the present instance,) by the line which followed the omitted line: “[Suf. Jove sometimes went disguis'd, and why not I?] “Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.” In Coriolanus, vol. xiv. p. 102, a line was in like manner omitted, and it has very properly been supplied. The christian name of Sir Thomas Ramston is changed to John, and the two following persons are improperly described as knights in all the copies. These perhaps were likewise mistakes of the press, but are scarcely worth correcting. Malone.

Note return to page 138 3&lblank; archbishop late of Canterbury,] Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, brother to the Earl of Arundel who was beheaded in this reign, had been banished by the parliament, and was afterwards deprived by the Pope of his see, at the request of the king; whence he is here called “late of Canterbury.” Steevens.

Note return to page 139 4Imp out &lblank;] As this expression frequently occurs in our author, it may not be amiss to explain the original meaning of it. When the wing-feathers of a hawk were dropped, or forced out by any accident, it was usual to supply as many as were deficient. This operation was called, to imp a hawk. So, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “His plumes only imp the muse's wings.” Again, in Albumazar, 1615: “&lblank; when we desire “Time's haste, he seems to lose a match with lobsters; “And when we wish him stay, he imps his wings “With feathers plum'd with thought.” Turbervile has a whole chapter on The Way and Manner howe to ympe a Hawke's Feather, how-soever it be broken or broosed. Steevens.

Note return to page 140 5&lblank; gilt,] i. e. gilding, superficial display of gold. So, in Timon of Athens: “When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 141 6&lblank; life-harming heaviness,] Thus the quarto 1597. The quartos 1608, and 1615—halfe-harming; the folio—self-harming. Steevens. This is a good specimen of the gradual progress of corruption. The revisor of the folio, perceiving that “half-harming,” (the corrupt reading of the copy of 1608, from which the folio copy appears to have been printed,) afforded no sense, substituted “self-harming,” a word that is not very distant from the other, without a thought of consulting the earliest printed copy. Malone.

Note return to page 142 7With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves,] The following line requires that this should be read just the contrary way: “With something trembles, yet at nothing grieves.” Warburton. All the old editions read: “&lblank; my inward soul “With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves.” The reading, which Dr. Warburton corrects, is itself an innovation. His conjectures give indeed a better sense than that of any copy, but copies must not be needlessly forsaken. Johnson. I suppose it is the unborn sorrow which she calls nothing, because it is not yet brought into existence. Steevens. Warburton does not appear to have understood this passage, nor Johnson either. Through the whole of this scene, till the arrival of Green, the Queen is describing to Bushy, a certain unaccountable despondency of mind, and a foreboding apprehension which she felt of some unforeseen calamity. She says, “that her inward soul trembles without any apparent cause, and grieves at something more than the King's departure, though she knows not what.” He endeavours to persuade her that it is merely the consequence of her sorrow for the King's absence. She says it may be so, but her soul tells her otherwise. He then tells her it is only conceit; but she is not satisfied with that way of accounting for it, as she says that conceit is still derived from some forefather grief, but what she feels was begot by nothing; that is, had no preceding cause. Conceit is here used in the same sense that it is in Hamlet, when the King says that Ophelia's madness was occasioned by “conceit upon her father.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 143 8Like pérspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry, Distinguish form:] This is a fine similitude, and the thing meant is this. Amongst mathematical recreations, there is one in optics, in which a figure is drawn, wherein all the rules of perspective are inverted: so that, if held in the same position with those pictures which are drawn according to the rules of perspective, it can present nothing but confusion: and to be seen in form, and under a regular appearance, it must be looked upon from a contrary station; or, as Shakspeare says, “ey'd awry.” Warburton. Dr. Plot's History of Staffordshire, p. 391, explains this perspective, or odd kind of “pictures upon an indented board, which, if beheld directly, you only perceive a confused piece of work; but, if obliquely, you see the intended person's picture;” which, he was told, was made thus: “The board being indented, [or furrowed with a plough-plane,] the print or painting was cut into parallel pieces equal to the depth and number of the indentures on the board, and they were pasted on the flats that strike the eye holding it obliquely, so that the edges of the parallel pieces of the print or painting exactly joining on the edges of the indentures, the work was done.” Tollet. The following short poem would almost persuade one that the words rightly and awry [perhaps originally written—aright and wryly,] had exchanged places in the text of our author: Lines prefixed to “Melancholike Humours, in Verses of Diverse “Natures, set down by Nich. Breton, Gent. 1600: “In Authorem. “That thou wouldst finde the habit of true passion,   “And see a minde attir'd in perfect straines; “Not wearing moodes, as gallants doe a fashion   “In these pide times, only to shewe their braines; “Looke here on Breton's worke, the master print,   “Where such perfections to the life doe rise: “If they seeme wry, to such as looke asquint,   “The fault's not in the object, but their eyes. “For, as one comming with a laterall viewe   “Unto a cunning piece-wrought perspective, “Wants facultie to make a censure true:   “So with this author's readers will it thrive:   “Which, being eyed directly, I divine,   “His proofe their praise will meete, as in this line.” Ben Jonson. Steevens. So, in Hentzner, 1598, Royal Palace, Whitehall: “Edwardi VI. Angliæ regis effigies, primo intuitu monstrosum quid repræsentans, sed si quis effigiem rectâ intueatur, tum vera depræhenditur.” Farmer. The perspectives here mentioned, were not pictures, but round chrystal glasses, the convex surface of which was cut into faces, like those of the rose-diamond; the concave left uniformly smooth. These chrystals—which were sometimes mounted on tortoise-shell box-lids, and sometimes fixed into ivory cases—if placed as here represented, would exhibit the different appearances described by the poet. The word shadows is here used, in opposition to substance, for reflected images, and not as the dark forms of bodies, occasioned by their interception of the light that falls upon them. Henley.

Note return to page 144 9As,—though, in thinking, on no thought I think,] Old copy, —on thinking; but we should read—“As though in thinking;” that is, “though musing, I have no distinct idea of calamity.” The involuntary and unaccountable depression of the mind, which every one has sometime felt, is here very forcibly described. Johnson.

Note return to page 145 1'Tis nothing but conceit,] Conceit is here, as in King Henry VIII. and many other places, used for a fanciful conception. Malone.

Note return to page 146 2For nothing hath begot my something grief; Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:] With these lines I know not well what can be done. The Queen's reasoning, as it now stands, is this: my trouble is not conceit, for conceit is still derived from some antecedent cause, some fore-father grief; but with me the case is, that ‘either my real grief hath no real cause, or some real cause has produced a fancied grief.’ That is, ‘my grief is not conceit, because it either has not a cause like conceit, or it has a cause like conceit.’ This can hardly stand. Let us try again, and read thus: “For nothing hath begot my something grief; “Not something hath the nothing that I grieve:” That is, ‘my grief is not conceit; conceit is an imaginary uneasiness from some past occurrence.’ But, on the contrary, here is ‘real grief without a real cause; not a real cause with a fanciful sorrow.’ This, I think, must be the meaning; harsh at the best, yet better than contradiction or absurdity. Johnson.

Note return to page 147 3'Tis in reversion that I do possess; But what it is, that is not yet known, &c.] I am about to propose an interpretation which many will think harsh, and which I do not offer for certain. To possess a man, in Shakspeare, is to inform him fully, to make him comprehend. To be possessed, is to be fully informed. Of this sense the examples are numerous: “I have possess'd him my most stay can be but short.” Measure for Measure. “&lblank; Is he yet possess'd “What sum you would?” Merchant of Venice. I therefore imagine the Queen says thus: 'Tis in reversion—that I do possess; &lblank;” “The event is yet in futurity”—that I know with full conviction —“but what it is, that is not yet known.” In any other interpretation she must say that she possesses what is not yet come, which, though it may be allowed to be poetical and figurative language, is yet, I think, less natural than my explanation. Johnson. As the grief the Queen felt, was for some event which had not yet come to pass, or at least not yet come to her knowledge, she expresses this by saying that the grief which she then actually possessed, was still in reversion, as she had no right to feel the grief until the event should happen which was to occasion it. M. Mason.

Note return to page 148 4&lblank; might have retir'd his power,] Might have drawn it back. A French sense. Johnson. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Each one, by him enforc'd, retires his ward.” Malone.

Note return to page 149 5And all the rest of the revolted faction, traitors?] The first quarto, 1597, reads: “And all the rest revolted faction, traitors?” The folio and quartos 1598 and 1608: “And the rest of the revolting faction, traitors?” Malone.

Note return to page 150 6&lblank; my sorrow's dismal heir:] The author seems to have used heir in an improper sense, an heir being one that inherits by succession, is here put for one that succeeds, though he succeeds but in order of time, not in order of descent. Johnson. Johnson has mistaken the meaning of this passage also. The Queen does not in any way allude to Bolingbroke's succession to the crown, an event, of which she could at that time have had no idea. She had said before, that “some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, was coming towards her.” She talks afterwards of her unknown griefs “being begotten;” she calls Green “the midwife of her woe;” and then means to say, in the same metaphorical jargon, that the arrival of Bolingbroke was the dismal offspring that her foreboding sorrow was big of; which she expresses by calling him her “sorrow's dismal heir,” and explains more fully and intelligibly in the following line: “Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 151 7&lblank; thou art the midwife to my woe, &lblank; And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.] So, in Pericles: “I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.” Malone.

Note return to page 152 7Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:] This line is found in the three eldest quartos, but is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 153 8The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,] The old copies, injuriously to the metre, read: “The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold.” Steevens.

Note return to page 154 9Get thee to Plashy,] The lordship of Plashy, was a town of the dutchess of Gloster's in Essex. See Hall's Chronicle, p. 13. Theobald.

Note return to page 155 1&lblank; untruth &lblank;] That is, disloyalty, treachery. Johnson.

Note return to page 156 2The king had cut off my head with my brother's.] None of York's brothers had his head cut off, either by the King or any one else. The Duke of Gloster, to whose death he probably alludes, was secretly murdered at Calais, being smothered between two beds. Ritson.

Note return to page 157 3What, are there posts dispatch'd for Ireland?] Thus the folio. The quartos—two posts—and—no posts. Steevens. This line furnishes another specimen of the progress of corruption. In the second quarto, 1598, no being corrupted into two, the line appeared thus: “What, are there two posts dispatch'd for Ireland?” and so it was exhibited in the quarto of 1608, and in that of 1615. The corrector of the press, by whom the sheets of the folio, 1623, were revised while they were printing, meeting with what doubtless appears very absurd, instead of looking out for the oldest copy, cut the knot, instead of attempting to untie it, and left out the substituted word two; and thus the verse became quite different from what the poet intended. “What, are there posts dispatch'd for Ireland?” What is still more extraordinary, this unquestionably erroneous reading is adopted by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 158 4Come, sister,—cousin, I would say:] This is one of Shakspeare's touches of nature. York is talking to the Queen his cousin, but the recent death of his sister is uppermost in his mind. Steevens.

Note return to page 159 5&lblank; disorderly thrust &lblank;] So all the old copies. Mr. Steevens silently altered it to “thrust disorderly.” Boswell.

Note return to page 160 5Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd;] Sir T. Hanmer has completed this defective line, by reading: “My kinsman is, one whom the king hath wrong'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 161 6&lblank; Gentlemen, go muster up your men.] The word gentlemen, which is found both in the quarto 1597, and the folio, is omitted by Mr. Steevens without any notice to the reader. Malone.

Note return to page 162 *So folio; quartos omit castle.

Note return to page 163 †Quartos, for Ireland.

Note return to page 164 7Will the hateful commons &lblank;] So all the old copies. Mr. Steevens reads, without notice, “The hateful commons will.” Boswell.

Note return to page 165 6&lblank; wanting your company; Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd The tediousness and process of my travel:] So, in King Lear, 1605: “Thy pleasant company will make the way seem short.” Malone.

Note return to page 166 7And hope to joy,] To joy is, I believe, here used as a verb. So, in the second Act of King Henry IV. Part I.: “Poor fellow never joy'd since the price of oats rose.” Again, in K. Henry VI. Part II. Act IV. Sc. IX.: “Was ever king that joy'd on earthly throne &lblank;.” The word is again used with the same signification in the play before us. Malone.

Note return to page 167 8He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together.] i. e. conversed: together is an interpolation sufficiently evident from the redundancy of the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 168 *So quartos 1597, 1598, and folio: quartos 1608 and 1615, estimation.

Note return to page 169 9My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.] I suspect that our author designed this for a speech rendered abrupt by the impatience of Bolingbroke's reply; and therefore wrote: “My lord of Hereford, my message is &lblank;” The words to you, only serve to destroy the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 170 1&lblank; my answer is—to Lancaster;] Your message,you say, is to my lord of Hereford. My answer is, It is not to him; it is to the Duke of Lancaster. Malone.

Note return to page 171 2To raze one title of your honour out:] “How the names of them which for capital crimes against majestie were erazed out of the publicke records, tables, and registers, or forbidden to be borne by their posteritie, when their memorie was damned, I could show at large.” Camden's Remains, p. 136, edit. 1605. Malone.

Note return to page 172 3From the most glorious regent of this land,] Thus the first quarto, 1597. The word regent was accidentally omitted in the quarto, 1598, which was followed by all the subsequent copies. The same copy substituted glorious for gracious. Malone.

Note return to page 173 4&lblank; the absent time,] i. e. time of the king's absence. Johnson.

Note return to page 174 5Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:] In Romeo and Juliet, we have the same kind of phraseology: “Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.” Again, in Microconicon, Six snarling Satires, &c. by Thomas Middleton, 16mo. 1599: “Hower me no howers; howers break no square.” Again, in Solyman and Perseda, 1599: “Basilis. What would'st thou have me, a Typhon? “Piston. Typhon me no Typhons, but swear,” &c. Again, in Love's Owle, a poem, by Antony Copley, 4to. 1595: “And so joy mightely over all. “Old Man. “All me no alls, for all is nought.” Again, in King Edward I. by George Peele, 1593: “Friars. Hands off, an if you love your ease. “Rice. “Ease me no easings,” &c. Malone. The reading of the folio is preferable: “Tut, tut! grace me no grace, nor uncle me.” Ritson.

Note return to page 175 6But then more why;] This seems to be wrong. We might read: “But more than this; why,” &c. Tyrwhitt. “But then more why.” But, to add more questions. This is the reading of the first quarto, 1597, which in the second, and all the subsequent copies, was corrupted thus: “But more than why.” The expression of the text, though a singular one, was, I have no doubt, the author's. It is of a colour with those immediately preceding: “Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.” An innovation which shows how very soon Shakspeare's peculiarities were not understood, and how ready the persons through whose hands they passed, were to substitute their own capricious notions in their room. A similar expression occurs in Twelfth-Night: “More than I love these eyes, more than my life, “More, by all mores, than I shall e'er love wife.” Mr. Tyrwhitt, who certainly had never seen the second quarto, proposed the same reading that is there, and Mr. M. Mason would read thus: “But more then. Why? Why have they dar'd,” &c. To mention this, is enough. The text is unquestionably right. Malone. There seems to be an error in this passage, which I believe should run thus: “But more then: Why? why have they dar'd,” &c. This repetition of the word why, is not unnatural for a person speaking with much warmth. M. Mason.

Note return to page 176 7And ostentation of despised arms?] But sure the ostentation of despised arms would not fright any one. We should read: “&lblank; disposed arms:” i. e. forces in battle array. Warburton. This alteration is harsh. Sir T. Hanmer reads—despightful. Mr. Upton gives this passage as a proof that our author uses the passive participle in an active sense. The copies all agree. Perhaps the old duke means to treat him with contempt as well as with severity, and to insinuate that he despises his power, as being able to master it. In this sense all is right. Johnson. So, in this play: “We'll make foul weather with despised tears.” Steevens. The meaning of this probably is—‘a boastful display of arms which we despise.’ M. Mason.

Note return to page 177 *So folio: the quartos omit the.

Note return to page 178 8On what condition &lblank;] It should be, ‘in what condition,’ i. e. in what degree of guilt. The particles in the old editions are of little credit. Johnson. York's reply supports Dr. Johnson's conjecture: “Even in condition,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 179 †So quarto 1597, and folio: the other quartos, my.

Note return to page 180 8Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:] i. e. with an impartial eye. “Every juryman (says Sir Edward Coke,) ought to be impartial and indifferent.” Malone.

Note return to page 181 9&lblank; Wherefore was I born?] To what purpose serves birth and lineal succession? I am duke of Lancaster by the same right of birth as the king is king of England. Johnson.

Note return to page 182 1To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the bay.] By “his wrongs,” are meant ‘the persons who wrong him.’ This explanation is supported by a passage in Fletcher's Double Marriage, where Juliana says— “With all my youth and pleasure I'll embrace you, “Make tyranny and death stand still, affrighted, “And, at our meeting souls, amaze our mischiefs.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 183 2&lblank; to sue my livery here,] A law phrase belonging to the feudal tenures. See notes on K. Henry IV. Part I. Act IV. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 184 3It stands your grace upon, to do him right.] i. e. it is your interest, it is matter of consequence to you. So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; It stands me much upon, “To stop all hopes whose growth my danger me.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; It only stands “Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.” Steevens.

Note return to page 185 4Be his own carver, and cut out his way,] So, in Othello, vol. ix. p. 327: “He that stirs next to carve forth his own rage.” Boswell.

Note return to page 186 4It may be, I will go with you:—but yet I'll pause;] I suspect the words—with you, which spoil the metre, to be another interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 187 5Things past redress, are now with me past care.] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Things without remedy, “Should be without regard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 188 6Scene IV.] Here is a scene so unartfully and irregularly thrust into an improper place, that I cannot but suspect it accidentally transposed; which, when the scenes were written on single pages, might easily happen in the wildness of Shakspeare's drama. This dialogue was, in the author's draught, probably the second scene in the ensuing act, and there I would advise the reader to insert it, though I have not ventured on so bold a change. My conjecture is not so presumptuous as may be thought. The play was not, in Shakspeare's time, broken into Acts; the editions published before his death, exhibit only a sequence of scenes from the beginning to the end, without any hint of a pause of action. In a drama so desultory and erratic, left in such a state, transpositions might easily be made. Johnson.

Note return to page 189 7&lblank; Salisbury,] Was John Montacute, Earl of Salisbury. Walpole.

Note return to page 190 8The bay-trees, &c.] This enumeration of prodigies is in the highest degree poetical and striking. Johnson. Some of these prodigies are found in Holinshed: “In this yeare in a manner throughout all the realme of England, old baie trees wither'd,” &c. This was esteemed a bad omen; for, as I learn from Thomas Lupton's Syxt Booke of Notable Thinges, 4to. bl. l.: “Neyther falling sycknes, neyther devyll, wyll infest or hurt one in that place whereas a Bay tree is. The Romaynes calles it the plant of the good angell,” &c. Steevens. Evelyn says, “Amongst other things, it has of old been observed, that the bay is ominous of some funest accident, if that be so accounted which Suetonius (in Galba) affirms to have happened before the death of the monster Nero, when these trees generally withered to the very roots in a very mild winter: and much later; that in the year 1629, when at Padua, preceding a great pestilence, almost all the Bay trees about that famous university grew sick and perished: ‘Certo quasi præsagio, (says my author,) Apollinem Musasque, subsequenti anno urbe illa bonarum literarum domicilio excessuras.’” (Sylva, 4to. 1776, p. 396.) Reed.

Note return to page 191 9&lblank; clean.] i. e. quite, completely. Reed. So, in our author's 75th Sonnet: “And by and by, clean starved for a look.” Malone.

Note return to page 192 1You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; Broke the possession of a royal bed,] There is, I believe, no authority for this. Isabel, the queen of the present play, was but nine years old. Richard's first queen, Anne, died in 1392, and the king was extremely fond of her. Malone.

Note return to page 193 2Dispark'd my parks,] To dispark is to throw down the hedges of an enclosure. Dissepio. I meet with the word in Barrett's Alvearie or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580. It also occurs in The Establishment of Prince Henry, 1610: “Forestes and Parkes of the Prince's disparked and in Lease,” &c. Steevens. “Dispark'd my parks.” Mr. Steevens supposed that to dispark signified “to throw down the hedges of an enclosure,” but this is not the meaning of the term. To dispark, is a legal term, and signifies, to divest a park, constituted by royal grant or prescription, of its name and character, by destroying the enclosures of such a park, and also the vert (or whatever bears green leaves, whether wood or underwood,) and the beasts of chase therein; and laying it open. Malone.

Note return to page 194 3From my own windows torn my household coat,] It was the practice when coloured glass was in use, of which there are still some remains in old seats and churches, to anneal the arms of the family in the windows of the house. Johnson.

Note return to page 195 4Raz'd out my impress, &c.] The impress was a device or motto. Ferne, in his Blazon of Gentry, 1585, observes, “that the arms, &c. of traitors and rebels may be defaced and removed, wheresoever they are fixed, or set.” Steevens. For the punishment of a base knight, see Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. iii. st. 37. Malone.

Note return to page 196 5Thanks, gentle uncle.—Come, lords, away; To fight with Glendower and his complices; Awhile to work, and, after, holiday.] Though the intermediate line has taken possession of all the old copies, I have great suspicion of its being an interpolation: and have therefore ventured to throw it out. The first and third lines rhyme to each other: nor do I imagine this was casual, but intended by the poet. Were we to acknowledge the line genuine, it must argue the poet of forgetfulness and inattention to history. Bolingbroke is, as it were, but just arrived; he is now at Bristol, weak in his numbers; has had no meeting with a parliament; nor is so far assured of the succession, as to think of going to suppress insurrections before he is planted in the throne. Besides, we find the opposition of Glendower begins The First Part of King Henry IV. and Mortimer's defeat by that hardy Welchman is the tidings of the first scene of that play. Again, though Glendower, in the very first year of King Henry IV. beginning to be troublesome, put in for the supremacy of Wales, and imprisoned Mortimer; yet it was not till the succeeding year that the King employed any force against him. Theobald. This emendation, which I think is just, has been followed by Sir T. Hanmer, but is neglected by Dr. Warburton. Johnson. It is evident from the preceding scene, that there was a force in Wales, which Bolingbroke might think it necessary to suppress; and why might not Shakspeare call it Glendower's? When we next see Bolingbroke, he is in Wales, and mentions his having received intelligence that the Welchmen are dispersed. Ritson. Mr. Heath observes, that Bolingbroke marched to Chester, probably with a view to attack the Welsh army headed by Lord Salisbury. He thinks, therefore, the line is genuine. See Sc. III. p. 104. Stowe expressly says, that “Owen Glendower served King Richard at Flint-Castle.” Malone.

Note return to page 197 6Here may be properly inserted the last scene of the second Act. Johnson.

Note return to page 198 7Call they,] So, the quarto 1597. The folio, following the quarto 1608, reads—call you. Malone.

Note return to page 199 8After late tossing, &c.] The old copies redundantly read: “After your late tossing,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 200 8&lblank; smiles in meeting;] It has been proposed to read—in weeping; and this change the repetition in the next line seems plainly to point out. Steevens. “As a long parted mother with her child “Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting;”   &grW;&grst; &gre;&gri;&grp;&grw;&grn;, &gra;&grl;&gro;&grx;&gro;&gri;&gro; &grf;&gri;&grl;&grh;&grst; &gre;&grn; &grx;&gre;&grr;&grs;&gri;&grn; &gre;&grq;&grh;&grk;&gre;   &grP;&gra;&gri;&grd;&grap; &gre;&gro;&grn;&grcolon; &grhr; &grd;&grap; &gra;&grr;&gra; &grm;&gri;&grn; &grk;&grh;&grw;&grd;&gre;&grid; &grd;&gre;&grc;&gra;&grt;&gro; &grk;&gro;&grl;&grp;&grwc;   &grD;&grA;&grK;&grR;&grU;&grO;&grE;&grN; &grG;&grE;&grL;&grA;&grS;&grA;&grS;&grA;. Hom. Il. Z. Perhaps smiles is here used as a substantive. As a mother plays fondly with her child from whom she has been a long time parted, crying, and at the same time smiling, at meeting him. It has been proposed to read—smiles in weeping; and I once thought the emendation very plausible. But I am now persuaded the text is right. If we read weeping, the long parted mother and her child do not meet, and there is no particular cause assigned for either her smiles or her tears. Malone. From the actual smiles and tears of the long parted mother, &c. we may, I think, sufficiently infer that she had met with her child. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 9Guard it, I pray thee,] Guard it, signifies here, as in many other places, border it. Malone. I think, that—to guard, in this place, rather means, to watch or protect. M. Mason.

Note return to page 202 1This earth shall have a feeling,] Perhaps Milton had not forgot this passage, when he wrote, in his Comus— “&lblank; dumb things shall be mov'd to sympathize, “And the brute earth shall lend her nerves, and shake.” Steevens.

Note return to page 203 2&lblank; rebellion's arms.] Thus the quarto 1597; all the subsequent copies have—rebellious arms. Malone.

Note return to page 204 3Fear not, my lord, &c.] Of this speech, the four last lines were restored from the first edition by Mr. Pope. They were, I suppose, omitted by the players only to shorten the scene, for they are worthy of the author and suitable to the personage. Johnson.

Note return to page 205 4&lblank; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse;] Thus the quarto 1597, except that the word if is wanting. The quarto 1608, and the late editions, read—“And we would not.” The word if was supplied by Mr. Pope. Both the metre and the sense show that it was accidentally omitted in the first copy. Malone.

Note return to page 206 5&lblank; and lights the lower world,] The old copies read—that lights. The emendation was made by Dr. Johnson. Sense might be obtained by a slight transposition, without changing the words of the original text: “That when the searching eye of heaven, that lights “The lower world, is hid behind the globe; &lblank;” By “the lower world,” as the passage is amended by Dr. Johnson, we must understand, a world lower than this of ours; I suppose, our antipodes. But the lower world may signify our world. Malone. That this is the sense of the passage, is obvious from the King's application of the simile: “So, when this thief, this traitor Bolingbroke,— “Who all this while hath revell'd in the night, “Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes,— “Shall see us rising in our throne the east,” &c. Henley. There is no necessity for any alteration, either by transposition or otherwise. That does not relate to the nearest antecedent, globe, but to the eye of heaven. Nothing is more common in Shakspeare, and the writers of his day, than this manner of disposing of the relative. Talbot.

Note return to page 207 5He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,] It is not easy to point out an image more striking and beautiful than this, in any poet, whether ancient or modern. Steevens.

Note return to page 208 *So folio: quartos, off from.

Note return to page 209 6The breath of worldly men, &c.] Here is the doctrine of indefeasible right expressed in the strongest terms; but our poet did not learn it in the reign of King James, to which it is now the practice of all writers, whose opinions are regulated by fashion or interest, to impute the original of every tenet which they have been taught to think false or foolish. Johnson. Far it be from me to palliate the conduct of the wretched James; but the truth is, that the inherent rights of the people had been ill understood, or rather were not acknowledged by his predecessors. The doctrine of the divine right of kings, and of the passive obedience of subjects, have never been carried further in any country than in this island, while the house of Tudor sate on the throne. Of this fact, the Homilies, composed during the reign of young Edward, and appointed in the Thirty-nine Articles to be read in churches, furnish striking and abundant proof. Take, as an instance, the following extract from the Homily against Disobedience and wilful Rebellion: “As the name of the king is very often attributed and given unto God in holy scriptures, so doth God himself in the same scriptures sometime vouchsafe to communicate his name with earthly princes, terming them Gods.” 1st part. And in the 4th part, we are directed to “call to remembrance the heavy wrath and dreadful indignation of Almighty God against subjects as do only but inwardly grudge, mutter, and murmur against their governors, though their inward treason, so privily hatched in their breasts, come not to an open declaration of their doings.” Holt White.

Note return to page 210 7Have I not reason to look pale and dead?] So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Even such a man &lblank; “So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, “Drew Priam's curtains in the dead of night.” Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.” Malone.

Note return to page 211 8&lblank; coward &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio has—sluggard. Malone.

Note return to page 212 9Is not the king's name forty thousand names?] Thus, in King Richard III.: “Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength.” See a speech of Antigonus, in Plutarch, of this kind, vol. ii. p. 199, 4to. Gr. S. W.

Note return to page 213 1Mine ear is open, &c.] It seems to be the design of the poet to raise Richard to esteem in his fall, and consequently to interest the reader in his favour. He gives him only passive fortitude, the virtue of a confessor, rather than of a king. In his prosperity we saw him imperious and oppressive; but in his distress he is wise, patient, and pious. Johnson.

Note return to page 214 2White-beards &lblank;] Thus the quartos. The first folio, with a ridiculous blunder,—White bears. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has omitted to mention that the same ridiculous blunder is continued is the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 215 *So quarto 1597: all the other copies, and boys.

Note return to page 216 3&lblank; and clap their female joints &lblank;] Mr. Pope more elegantly reads—“and clasp &lblank;;” which has been adopted by the subsequent editors . But the emendation does not seem absolutely necessary. Malone. Clip would be still nearer than clasp. Ritson. Lee, in his Mithridates, has imitated this passage, Act IV.: “The very boys, like Cupids dress'd in arms, “Clap their young harness'd thighs, and trust to battle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 217 4Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows &lblank;] Such is the reading of all the copies; yet I doubt whether beadsmen be right, for the bow seems to be mentioned here as the proper weapon of a beadsman. The King's beadsmen were his chaplains. Trevisa calls himself the beadsman of his patron. Beadsman might likewise be any man maintained by charity to pray for his benefactor. Hanmer reads—“the very beadsmen,” but thy is better. Johnson. The reading of the text is right enough: “As boys strive to speak big, and clasp their effeminate joints in stiff unwieldy arms,” &c. “so his very beadsmen learn to bend their bows against him.” Their does not absolutely denote that the bow was their usual or proper weapon; but only taken up and appropriated by them on this occasion. Percy.

Note return to page 218 †Quartos 1608 and 1615, browes.

Note return to page 219 5Of double-fatal yew &lblank;] Called so, because the leaves of the yew are poison, and the wood is employed for instruments of death. Warburton. From some of the ancient statutes it appears that every Englishman, while archery was practised, was obliged to keep in his house either a bow of yew or some other wood. It should seem therefore that yews were not only planted in church-yards to defend the churches from the wind, but on account of their use in making bows; while by the benefit of being secured in enclosed places, their poisonous quality was kept from doing mischief to cattle. Steevens.

Note return to page 220 ‡Quartos 1608 and 1615, woe.

Note return to page 221 6Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushy? where is Green?] Here are four of them named; and, within a very few lines, the King hearing they had made their peace with Bolingbroke, calls them three Judasses. But how was their peace made? Why, with the loss of their heads. This being explained, Aumerle says: “Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire dead?” So that Bagot ought to be left out of the question: and, indeed, he had made the best of his way for Chester, and from thence had escaped into Ireland. The poet could not be guilty of so much forgetfulness and absurdity. The transcribers must have blundered. It seems probable to me that he wrote, as I have conjecturally altered the text: “Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is he got?” i. e. into what corner of my dominions is he slunk and absconded. Theobald. This emendation Dr. Warburton adopts. Hanmer leaves a blank after Wiltshire. I believe the author, rather than transcriber, made a mistake. “Where is he got,” does not sound in my ear like an expression of Shakspeare. Johnson. I agree with Johnson in thinking that this was a mistake of the author's, because we find a mistake of the same nature in the second Act, where Bolingbroke says, that Bristol Castle was held by Bushy and Bagot; yet it is certain that Bagot was not taken at Bristol, for we find him afterwards accusing Aumerle of treason; and in the parting scene between him, Green, and Bushy, he declares his intention of flying to the King in Ireland. M. Mason. Perhaps Shakspeare intended to mark more strongly the perturbation of the King by making him inquire at first for Bagot, whose loyalty, on further recollection, might show him the impropriety of his question. Malone.

Note return to page 222 *So folio. Quartos: “&lblank; terrible hell “Make war upon their spotted souls for this.”

Note return to page 223 7&lblank; grav'd &lblank;] The verb, to grave, is not peculiar to Shakspeare. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. iii. fol. 58: “Unto the hound, unto the raven, “She was none otherwise graven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 224 8And that small model of the barren-earth,] He uses model for mould. That earth, which closing upon the body, takes its form. This interpretation the next line seems to authorize. Johnson. Perhaps, all that model, in the present instance, means, is the sepulchral hillock of earth which ascertains the length and breadth of the body beneath it. In this sense it may be termed its model. Steevens. Shakspeare generally uses model, not for an exemplar, but for a thing made after a pattern. The King therefore means to say, that the earth placed upon the body assumes its form. So, in a former scene of this play: “&lblank; thou see'st thy wretched brother die, “Who was the model of thy father's life.” See vol. x. p. 440, n. 2. Model, however, may be used for mould. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. Malone. Perhaps, a small model means, a small portion. “Modle (says Cockeram,) is a part of one's self.” Boswell.

Note return to page 225 9Which serves as paste, &c.] A metaphor, not of the most sublime kind, taken from a pie. Johnson.

Note return to page 226 1&lblank; the ghosts they have depos'd;] Such is the reading of all the old copies. The modern editors, in the room of have depos'd, substituted dispossess'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 227 2&lblank; there the antick sits,] Here is an allusion to the antick or fool of old farces, whose chief part is to deride and disturb the graver and more splendid personages. Johnson. If there be any such allusion intended, it is to the old Vice, who, indeed, appears to have been such a character as Dr. Johnson describes. The Fool was rather introduced to be laughed at. Ritson. So, in The First Part of King Henry VI.: “Thou antick death, which laugh'st us here to scorn!” Steevens. It is not impossible that Shakspeare borrowed this idea from one of the cuts of that most exquisite work, called Imagines Mortis, commonly ascribed to the pencil of Holbein, but without any authority. See the seventh print. Douce.

Note return to page 228 3Tradition,] This word seems here used for traditional practices: that is, established or customary homage. Johnson.

Note return to page 229 *So quartos: folio, ne'er wail their present woes.

Note return to page 230 4&lblank; death destroying death;] That is, to die fighting, is to return the evil that we suffer, to destroy the destroyers. I once read “death defying death;” but destroying is as well. Johnson.

Note return to page 231 5I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort &lblank;] This sentiment is drawn from nature. Nothing is more offensive to a mind convinced that its distress is without a remedy, and preparing to submit quietly to irresistible calamity, than these petty and conjectured comforts which unskilful officiousness thinks it virtue to administer. Johnson.

Note return to page 232 6A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.] So, in King John, vol. xv. p. 263: “For grief is proud, and makes its owner stoop.” Boswell.

Note return to page 233 7To ear the land &lblank;] i. e. to plough it. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “He that ears my land, spares my team.” Steevens.

Note return to page 234 7&lblank; Flint Castle.] In our former edition I had called this scene the same with the preceding. That was at Barkloughly castle, on the coast where Richard landed; but Bolingbroke never marched further in Wales than to Flint. The interview between him and Richard was at the castle of Flint, where this scene should be said to lie, or rather in the camp of Bolingbroke before that castle.—“Go to Flint castle.” See above. Steevens.

Note return to page 235 8Your grace mistakes me;] The word—me, which is wanting in the old copies, was supplied by Sir T. Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 236 9For taking so the head,] To take the head is, to act without restraint; to take undue liberties. We now say, we give the horse his head, when we relax the reins. Johnson.

Note return to page 237 1&lblank; The heavens &lblank; &lblank; and oppose not Myself against their will.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “The heavens, &c. &lblank; “Move them no more by crossing their high will.” Steevens,

Note return to page 238 2I know it, uncle; and oppose not myself Against their will. But who comes here?] Such is the regulation of the old copies. The second line is left unmetrical, according to a frequent practice of our author, when a person enters suddenly, and apparently for the purpose of imitating the abruptness of dialogue in real life. Mr. Steevens, in direct opposition to the old copies, regulates the lines thus: “I know it, uncle; and oppose not “Myself against their will.—But who comes here?” When the deviation was pointed out, he had recourse to his usual suggestion of an interpolation, and, in the following note, defended his arrangement, in the face of the old copies, by proposing another regulation of the text, which yet he has not followed. Malone. I regard the word—myself, as an interpolation, and conceive Shakspeare to have written— “&lblank; and oppose not “Against their will.” To oppose may be here a verb neuter. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; a servant, thrill'd with remorse, “Oppos'd against the act.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 3Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield?] The old copy destroys the metre by reading—Welcome, Harry &lblank;. The emendation is Sir T. Hanmer's. Steevens.

Note return to page 240 3Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs, &c.] It is observable that our author in his addresses to persons, often begins with an hemistich. So, in Troilus and Cressida, Act II. Sc. III.: “Agam. Princes, “What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks?” This observation may be of use in other places, where in the old copies, by the mistake of the transcriber, the metre is destroyed by this regulation not being observed. It also confirms what I have often had occasion to mention,—that our poet in many instances blended short prosaick sentences with his metrical dialogues. Malone.

Note return to page 241 4&lblank; totter'd battlements] Totter'd, the reading of the two first quartos, is here probably used for tottering, according to a usage of our poet, which has been frequently pointed out. The other copies read tatter'd. Boswell.

Note return to page 242 5&lblank; the Bishop of Carlisle,] Was Thomas Merkes. Walpole.

Note return to page 243 6See, see, king Richard doth himself appear,] The following six lines are absurdly given to Bolinbroke, who is made to condemn his own conduct and disculp the King's. It is plain these six and the four following all belong to York. Warburton. It should be observed that the four last of these lines are in all the copies given to York. Steevens.

Note return to page 244 7The purple testament of bleeding war;] I believe our author uses the word testament in its legal sense. Bolingbroke is come to open the testament of war, that he may peruse what is decreed there in his favour. Purple is an epithet referring to the future effusion of blood. Steevens. Mr. Steevens is certainly right in his interpretation of this passage. See Julius Cæsar: “Now, while your purpled hands do reek and smoke, “Fulfil your pleasure.” Malone.

Note return to page 245 8But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face;] By “the flower of England's face” is meant ‘the choicest youths of England, who shall be slaughtered in this quarrel, or have bloody crowns.’ “The flower of England's face,” to design her choicest youth, is a fine and noble expression. Pericles, by a similar thought, said “that the destruction of the Athenian youth was a fatality like cutting off the spring from the year.” Warburton. Dr. Warburton reads—“light in peace,” but “live in peace” is more suitable to Richard's intention, which is to tell him, that though he should get the crown by rebellion, it will be long before it will live in peace, be so settled as to be firm. “The flower of England's face,” is very happily explained. Johnson. “The flower of England's face,” I believe, means ‘England's flowery face, the flowery surface of England's soil.’ The same kind of expression is used in Sidney's Arcadia, p. 2: “&lblank; opening the cherry of her lips,” i. e. her cherry lips. Again, p. 240, edit. 1633: “&lblank; the sweet and beautiful flower of her face.” Again, Drayton, in Mortimer's Epistle to Queen Isabell: “And in the field advance our plumy crest, “And march upon fair England's flow'ry breast.” Steevens. We have a similar image in the first speech of Henry IV. Part I.: “No more the thirsty entrance of this soil, “Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood.” Boswell.

Note return to page 246 9Her pastures' grass &lblank;] Old copies—pastors. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 247 1And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;] Dr. Warburton would read— “And by the warlike hand of buried Gaunt;” and this, no doubt, was Shakspeare's meaning, though he has affectedly misplaced the epithets. Thus, in King John, we have: “There is no malice in this burning coal,” instead of— “There is no malice burning in this coal.” Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “But earthlier happy,” instead of “earthly happier.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding,” instead of— “These guiltless hands are free from bloodshedding.” Again, ibid. in Part III.: “Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head,” instead of— “Until my head that this misshap'd trunk bears.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears,” instead of— “We cannot call her sighs and tears, winds and waters.” and in the same play we have proof of harness, for harness of proof; as elsewhere, miserable most, for most miserable; desperately mortal, for mortally desperate; action of precept, for precept of action;” &c. Ritson.

Note return to page 248 2&lblank; commend &lblank;] i. e. commit. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. Malone.

Note return to page 249 3With words of sooth!] Sooth is sweet as well as true. In this place sooth means sweetness or softness, a signification yet retained in the verb to sooth. Johnson.

Note return to page 250 4My gay apparel, &c.] Dr. Grey observes, “that King Richard's expence in regard to dress, was very extraordinary.” Holinshed has the same remark; and adds, that he had “one cote which he caused to be made for him of gold and stone, valued at 30,000 marks.” Steevens. Stowe, in his Survey, says, “to the value of three thousand markes.” So, also, in Vita Ricardi Secundi, published by T. Hearne, p. 156. It is much to be wished that historians would never use Arabick numerals; they are the source of innumerable errors. Malone.

Note return to page 251 5Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, Some way of common trade,] So, in Lord Surrey's translation of the second book of Virgil's Æneid: “A postern with a blind wicket there was, “A common trade, to pass through Priam's house.” Limen erat, cæcæque fores, et pervius usus, Tectorum inter se Priami &lblank;. The phrase is still used by common people. When they speak of a road much frequented, they say, “it is a road of much traffick.” Shakspeare uses the word in the same sense in King Henry VIII.: “Stand in the gap and trade of more preferments.” Steevens.

Note return to page 252 6&lblank; on their sovereign's head:] Shakspeare is very apt to deviate from the pathetick to the ridiculous. Had the speech of Richard ended at this line, it had exhibited the natural language of submissive misery, conforming its intention to the present fortune, and calmly ending its purposes in death. Johnson.

Note return to page 253 7&lblank; Bolingbroke says—ay.] Here is another instance of injury done to the poet's metre by changing his orthography. I, which was Shakspeare's word, rhymed very well with die; but ay has quite a different sound. See a note on The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 186, n. 7. Tyrwhitt. In some counties ay is at this day pronounced with a sound very little differing from that of I. Malone.

Note return to page 254 8&lblank; base court &lblank;] Bas cour, Fr. So, in Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606: “&lblank; they were, for a public observation, brought into the base court of the palace.” Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “&lblank; began, at the entrance into the base court, to use these words.” Steevens.

Note return to page 255 9Then I must not say, no.] “The duke with a high sharpe voyce bade bring forth the kings horses, and then two little nagges, not worth forthy franks, were brought forth; the king was set on the one, and the earle of Salisburie on the other: and thus the duke brought the king from Flint to Chester, where he was delivered to the duke of Glocesters sonne and to the earle of Arundels sonne, (that loved him but little, for he had put their fathers to death,) who led him straight to the castle.” Stowe, (p. 521, edit. 1605,) from a manuscript account written by a person who was present. Malone.

Note return to page 256 1Of sorrow, or of joy?] All the old copies concur in reading: “Of sorrow, or of grief?” Mr. Pope made the necessary alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 257 2&lblank; complain.] See p. 20, n. 1. Steevens.

Note return to page 258 3And I could weep,] The old copies read—“And I could sing.” Steevens. Mr. Pope made the emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 259 4Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe.] The poet, according to the common doctrine of prognostication, supposes dejection to forerun calamity, and a kingdom to be filled with rumours of sorrow when any great disaster is impending. The sense is, that publick evils are always presignified by publick pensiveness, and plaintive conversation. Johnson.

Note return to page 260 5&lblank; our firm estate?] How could he say our, when he immediately subjoins, that it was infirm? We should read: “&lblank; a firm state.” Warburton. The servant says our, meaning the state of the garden in which they are at work. The state of the metaphorical garden was indeed unfirm, and therefore his reasoning is very naturally induced. Why (says he,) should we be careful to preserve order in the narrow cincture of this our state when the great state of the kingdom is in disorder? I have replaced the old reading which Dr. Warburton would have discontinued in favour of his own conjecture. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 6Her knots disorder'd,] Knots are figures planted in box, the lines of which frequently intersect each other. So, Milton: “Flowers, worthy Paradise, which not nice art “In beds and curious knots, but nature boon “Pour'd forth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 262 7&lblank; We at time of year &lblank;] The word We is not in the old copies. The context shows that some word was omitted at the press; and the subsequent lines— “&lblank; superfluous branches “We lop away &lblank;,” render it highly probable that this was the word. Malone.

Note return to page 263 8&lblank; All superfluous branches &lblank;] Thus the second folio. The first omits the word—all, and thereby hurts the metre; for superfluous is never accented on the third syllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 264 9&lblank; 'Tis doubt, he will be:] We have already had an instance of this uncommon phraseology in the present play: “He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, “When time shall call him home,” &c. Doubt is the reading of the quarto, 1597. The folio reads— doubted. I have found reason to believe that some alteration even in that valuable copy was made arbitrarily by the editor. Malone.

Note return to page 265 1O, I am press'd to death, Through want of speaking!] The poet alludes to the ancient legal punishment, called peine forte et dure, which was inflicted on those persons, who, being arraigned, refused to plead, remaining obstinately silent. They were pressed to death by a heavy weight laid upon their stomach. Malone.

Note return to page 266 2&lblank; to dress this garden,] This was the technical language of Shakspeare's time. So, in Holy Writ: “&lblank; and put him into the garden of Eden, to dress it, and to keep it.” Gen. ii. 15. Malone.

Note return to page 267 3&lblank; how dares Thy harsh-rude tongue, &c.] So, in Hamlet: “What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue “In noise so rude against me?” I have quoted this passage only to justify the restoration of the word rude, which has been rejected in some modern editions. A line in King John may add support to the restoration here made from the old copy: “To whom he sung in rude harsh-sounding rhymes.” Malone.

Note return to page 268 4I would, the plants, &c.] This execration of the Queen is somewhat ludicrous, and unsuitable to her condition: the gardener's reflection is better adapted to the state both of his mind and his fortune. Mr. Pope, who has been throughout this play very diligent to reject what he did not like, has yet, I know not why, spared the last lines of this Act. Johnson. “I would, the plants thou graft'st, may never grow.” So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “This bastard graft shall never come to growth.” Malone.

Note return to page 269 5&lblank; fall a tear, &lblank;] Thus the quarto, 1597. So, in Othello: “Each tear she falls would prove a crocodile.” The folio, following the quarto 1608, reads: “Here did she drop a tear.” Malone. The quarto 1598 also reads drop. Boswell.

Note return to page 270 6&lblank; Westminster Hall.] The rebuilding of Wesminster Hall, which Richard had begun in 1397, being finished in 1399, the first meeting of parliament in the new edifice was for the purpose of deposing him. Malone.

Note return to page 271 7&lblank; Surrey,] Thomas Holland earl of Kent. He was brother to John Holland duke of Exeter, and was created duke of Surrey in the 21st year of King Richard the Second, 1397. The dukes of Surrey and Exeter were half brothers to the King, being sons of his mother Joan, (daughter of Edmond, earle of Kent,) who after the death of her second husband, Lord Thomas Holland, married Edward the Black Prince. Malone.

Note return to page 272 8&lblank; Fitzwater,] The christian name of this nobleman was Walter. Walpole.

Note return to page 273 9&lblank; his timeless end.] Timeless, for untimely. Warburton.

Note return to page 274 9&lblank; my fair stars,] I rather think it should be stem, being of the royal blood. Warburton. I think the present reading unexceptionable. The birth is supposed to be influenced by the stars; therefore, our author, with his usual licence, takes stars for birth. Johnson. We learn from Pliny's Natural History, that the vulgar error assigned the bright and fair stars to the rich and great:—“Sidera singulis attributa nobis, et clara divitibus, minora pauperibus,” &c. lib. i. cap. viii. Anonymous.

Note return to page 275 1If that thy valour stand on sympathies,] Here is a translated sense much harsher than that of stars explained in the foregoing note. Aumerle has challenged Bagot with some hesitation, as not being his equal, and therefore one whom, according to the rules of chivalry, he was not obliged to fight, as a nobler life was not to be staked in a duel against a baser. Fitzwater then throws down his gage, a pledge of battle; and tells him that if he stands upon sympathies, that is, upon equality of blood, the combat is now offered him by a man of rank not inferior to his own. Sympathy is an affection incident at once to two subjects. This community of affection implies a likeness or equality of nature, and thence our poet transferred the term to equality of blood. Johnson.

Note return to page 276 2If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest.] This is the punctuation of the quarto. The folio, followed by Mr. Steevens, points the passage thus: “If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest.” Malone.

Note return to page 277 3&lblank; my rapier's point.] Shakspeare deserts the manners of the age in which this drama was placed, very often without necessity or advantage. The edge of a sword had served his purpose as well as the point of a rapier, and he had then escaped the impropriety of giving the English nobles a weapon which was not seen in England till two centuries afterwards. Johnson. Mr. Ritson censures this note in the following terms: “It would be well, however, though not quite so easy, for some learned critick to bring some proof in support of this and such like assertions. Without which the authority of Shakspeare is at least equal to that of Dr. Johnson.” It is probable that Dr. Johnson did not see the necessity of citing any authority for a fact so well known, or suspect that any person would demand one. If an authority, however, only is wanted, perhaps the following may be deemed sufficient to justify the Doctor's observation: “&lblank; at that time two other Englishmen, Sir W. Stanley, and Rowland Yorke, got an ignominious name of traytors. This Yorke, borne in London, was a man most negligent and lazy, but desperately hardy; he was in his time most famous among those who respected fencing, having been the first that brought into England that wicked and pernicious fashion to fight in the fields in duels with a rapier called a tucke, onely for the thrust: the English having till that very time used to fight with backe swords, slashing and cutting one the other, armed with targets or bucklers, with very broad weapons, accounting it not to be a manly action to fight by thrusting and stabbing, and chiefly under the waste.” Darcie's Annals of Queen Elizabeth, 4to. 1623, p. 223, sub anno, 1587. Again, in Bulleine's Dialogue between Soarnesse and Chirurgi, fol. 1579, p. 20: “There is a new kynd of instruments to let bloud withall, whych brynge the bloud-letter sometyme to the gallowes, because hee stryketh to deepe. These instruments are called the ruffins tucke, and long foining rapier: weapons more malicious than manly.” Reed. See vol. viii. p. 70, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 278 3I take the earth to the like, &c.] This speech I have restored from the first edition in humble imitation of former editors, though, I believe, against the mind of the author. For the earth I suppose we should read, thy oath. Johnson. To “take the earth” is, at present, a fox-hunter's phrase. So, in The Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598: “I'll follow him until he take the earth.” But I know not how it can be applied here. It should seem, however, from the following passage in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. iii. c. xvi. that the expression is yet capable of another meaning: “Lo here my gage (he terr'd his glove) thou know'st the victor's meed.” To terre the glove was, I suppose, to dash it on the earth. We still say to ground a musquet, and to ground a bowl. Let me add, however, in support of Dr. Johnson's conjecture, that the word oath, in Troilus and Cressida, quarto, 1609, is corrupted in the same manner. Instead of the “&lblank; untraded oath,” it gives “&lblank; untraded earth.” We might read, only changing the place of one letter, and altering another: “I task thy heart to the like &lblank;.” i. e. I put thy valour to the same trial. So, in King Henry VI. Act V. Sc. II.: “How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt?” The quarto 1597 reads—task; the succeeding quartos, viz. 1598, 1608, and 1615, have—take. Steevens. Task is the reading of the first and best quarto, in 1597. In that printed in the following year the word was changed to take; but all the alterations made in the several editions of our author's plays in quarto, after the first, appear to have been made either arbitrarily or by negligence. (I do not mean to include copies containing new and additional matter.) I confess I am unable to explain either reading; but I adhere to the elder, as more likely to be the true one. Malone. I should read “I take the earth,” i. e. I take the earth to witness. Talbot.

Note return to page 279 4From sun to sun:] i. e. as I think, from sun-rise to sun-set. So, in Cymbeline: “Imo. How many score of miles may we well ride “'Twixt hour and hour? “Pisa. One score 'twixt sun and sun, “Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too.” “The time appointed for the duello (says Saviolo,) hath alwaies been 'twixt the rising and the setting sun; and whoever in that time doth not prove his intent, can never after be admitted the combat upon that quarrel.” On Honour and honourable Quarrels, 4to. 1595. This passage fully supports the emendation here made, and my interpretation of the words. The quartos read— “From sin to sin.” The emendation, which in my apprehension requires no enforcement or support, was proposed by Mr. Steevens, who explains these words differently. He is of opinion that they mean, from one day to another. Malone. However ingenious the conjecture of Mr. Steevens may be, I think the old reading the true one. “From sin to sin,” is from one denial to another; for those denials were severally maintained to be lies. Henley.

Note return to page 280 5I have a thousand spirits in one breast,] So, in King Richard III.: “A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 281 6My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then;] The quartos omit—My lord, and read—“'Tis very true,” &c. The folio preserves both readings, and consequently overloads the metre. Steevens. “'Tis very true.” So the quarto 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 282 7I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,] I dare meet him where no help can be had by me against him. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; or be alive again, “And dare me to the desert with thy sword.” Johnson. So also, in The Lover's Progress, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Maintain thy treason with thy sword? with what “Contempt I hear it! in a wilderness “I durst encounter it.” Boswell.

Note return to page 283 8&lblank; in this new world,] In this world where I have just begun to be an actor Surrey has, a few lines above, called him boy. Johnson.

Note return to page 284 9&lblank; here do I throw down this,] Holinshed says, that on this occasion “he threw down a hood that he had borrowed.” Steevens. He had before thrown down his own hood, when accused by Bagot. Malone.

Note return to page 285 1&lblank; gave His body to that pleasant country's earth,] This is not historically true. The duke of Norfolk's death did not take place till after Richard's murder. Malone.

Note return to page 286 1In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.] The words actually spoken by Henry, on this occasion, were as follows: Standing upright, that every one might see him, after he had crossed himself on the forehead and breast, and called on the name of Christ, he said:—“In the name of Fadher, Son, and Holy Ghost, I, Henry of Lancaster, challenge the rewme of Ynglande, and the Croun, with all the membres and the appurtenances, and als I, that am descendit by right line of the blode, coming from the gude king Henry Therde, and throge that right that God of his grace hath sent me, with help of kyn, and of my frendes to recover it, the which rewme was in poynt to be ondone, by defaute of governaunce and ondoying of the gude lawes.” Hume, vol. ix. p. 50, 4to. who gives a very ingenious comment on this politick speech, which is copied from Knyghton, p. 2757. Malone.

Note return to page 287 2Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.] It might be read more grammatically: “Yet best beseems it me to speak the truth.” But I do not think it is printed otherwise than as Shakspeare wrote it. Johnson.

Note return to page 288 2&lblank; nobless &lblank;] i. e nobleness; a word now obsolete, but used both by Spenser and Ben Jonson. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 3And shall the figure, &c.] Here is another proof that our author did not learn in K. James's court his elevated notions of the right of kings. I know not any flatterer of the Stuarts, who has expressed this doctrine in much stronger terms. It must be observed that the poet intends, from the beginning to the end, to exhibit this bishop as brave, pious, and venerable. Johnson. Shakspeare has represented the character of the bishop as he found it in Holinshed, where this famous speech, (which contains, in the most express terms, the doctrine of passive obedience,) is preserved. The politicks of the historian were the politicks of the poet. Steevens. The chief argument urged by the bishop in Holinshed, is, that it was unjust to proceed against the king “without calling him openly to his answer and defence.” He says, that “none of them were worthie or meete to give judgement to so noble a prince;” but does not expressly assert that he could not be lawfully deposed. Our author, however, undoubtedly had Holinshed before him. Malone. It does not appear from any better authority than Holinshed that Bishop Merkes made this famous speech, or any speech at all upon this occasion, or even that he was present at the time. His sentiments, however, whether right or wrong, would have been regarded neither as novel nor unconstitutional. And it is observable that usurpers are as ready to avail themselves of the doctrine of divine right, as lawful sovereigns; to dwell upon the sacredness of their persons and the sanctity of their character. Even that “cutpurse of the empire,” Claudius, in Hamlet, affects to believe that— “&lblank; such divinity doth hedge a king,” &c. Ritson.

Note return to page 290 *So quartos; folio, forbid.

Note return to page 291 †So quartos; folio, rear.

Note return to page 292 4Lest child, child's children,] Thus the old copy. Some of our modern editors read—“childrens' children.” Steevens. The innovation was Mr. Pope's. Malone.

Note return to page 293 5&lblank; his day of trial.] After this line, whatever follows, almost to the end of the Act, containing the whole process of dethroning and debasing King Richard, was added after the first edition, of 1598, and before the second, of 1615. Part of the addition is proper, and part might have been forborn without much loss. The author, I suppose, intended to make a very moving scene. Johnson. The addition was first made in the quarto 1608. Steevens. The first edition was in 1597, not in 1598. When it is said that this scene was added, the reader must understand that it was added by the printer, or that a more perfect copy fell into the hands of the later editor than was published by a former. There is no proof that the whole scene was not written by Shakspeare at the same time with the rest of the play, though for political reasons it might not have been exhibited or printed during the life of Queen Elizabeth. See An Attempt to ascertain the Order of his Plays, vol. ii. In the quarto 1597, after the words “his day of trial,” the scene thus closes: “Bol. Let it be so: and, lo! on Wednesday next, “We solemnly proclaim our coronation. “Lords, be ready all. [Exeunt.” Malone.

Note return to page 294 6&lblank; his conduct.] i. e. conductor. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 295 *So quarto; folio, look'd.

Note return to page 296 †So quarto; folio, knee.

Note return to page 297 7The favours, &c.] The countenances, the features. Johnson. So, in Othello: “&lblank; nor should I know him, “Were he in favour as in humour alter'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 298 8Here, on this side,] The old copy redundantly has—“Here, cousin, on this side &lblank;.” Steevens. The quarto 1608, where this scene first appeared, reads: “&lblank; Seize the crown. “Here, cousin, on this side my hand, and on that side yours.” The folio: “Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. “Here, cousin, on this side my hand, on this side yours.” It is evident that in the original copy, the words “Here, cousin, seize the crown,” were misplaced, and erroneously printed— “Seize the crown. Here, cousin;” but these words being properly arranged, all the rest of the first copy is right, and I have followed it. The folio omitted the word and in the second line: Mr. Steevens prints— “Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.” Malone.

Note return to page 299 9The emptier ever dancing &lblank;] This is a comparison not easily accommodated to the subject, nor very naturally introduced. The best part is this line, in which he makes the usurper the empty bucket. Johnson.

Note return to page 300 1My care is—loss of care, by old care done;] Shakspeare often obscures his meaning by playing with sounds. Richard seems to say here, that “his cares are not made less by the increase of Bolingbroke's cares;” for this reason, that “his care is the loss of care,”—his grief is, that this regal cares are at an end, by the cessation of the care to which he had been accustomed. Johnson.

Note return to page 301 2&lblank; my balm,] The oil of consecration. He has mentioned it before. Johnson.

Note return to page 302 *So quarto; folio, duteous oaths.

Note return to page 303 †So quarto; folio, are made.

Note return to page 304 3&lblank; If thou would'st,] That is, if thou wouldst read over a list of thy own deeds. Johnson.

Note return to page 305 4Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon,] So the quarto 1608, except that it omits the word all, which I have restored from the folio. The folio reads—look upon me. To “look upon” is frequently used by our author, for—“to be a looker on.” Malone.

Note return to page 306 5&lblank; a sort &lblank;] A pack, a company. Warburton. So, in King Richard III.: “A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways.” Steevens.

Note return to page 307 6&lblank; haught,] i. e. haughty. So, in King Richard III.: “And the queen's sons and brothers, haught and proud.” Steevens.

Note return to page 308 7No, not that name was given me at the font,] How that name which was given him at the font could be usurped, I do not understand. Perhaps Shakspeare meant to shew that imagination, dwelling long on its own misfortunes, represents them as greater than they really are. Anonymous.

Note return to page 309 8&lblank; of his majesty.] i. e. of its majesty. Our poet, and the writers of his time, frequently used the personal for the neutral pronoun. Malone.

Note return to page 310 9&lblank; the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ,] This phrase is from the 139th Psalm, v. 15: “&lblank; and in thy book were all my members written.” Steevens.

Note return to page 311 *Quarto omits, and therein will I read.

Note return to page 312 †Quarto, Was this the face.

Note return to page 313 1Did keep ten thousand men?] Shakspeare is here not quite accurate. Our old chronicles only say “that to his household came every day, to meate, ten thousand men.” Malone.

Note return to page 314 ‡Quarto omits this line and the four preceding words.

Note return to page 315 2&lblank; my grief lies all within; And these external manners of lament, &c.] So, in Hamlet: “But I have that within which passeth show; “These but the trappings and the suits of woe.” The old copies read laments. Malone.

Note return to page 316 *Quarto omits, There lies the substance.

Note return to page 317 †Quarto omits, For thy great bounty.

Note return to page 318 ‡Quarto omits. Shall I obtain it?

Note return to page 319 3Fair cousin? I am greater than a king:] So the folio. The quarto 1608, reads: “Fair coose, why? I am greater than a king.” The modern editors: “Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than a king.” Boswell.

Note return to page 320 1&lblank; Conveyers are you all,] To convey is a term often used in an ill sense, and so Richard understands it here. Pistol says of stealing, “convey the wise it call;” and to convey is the word for sleight of hand, which seems to be alluded to here. Ye are all, says the deposed prince, jugglers, who rise with this nimble dexterity by the fall of a good king. Johnson.

Note return to page 321 2&lblank; a true king's fall.] This is the last of the additional lines which were first printed in the quarto, 1608. Malone.

Note return to page 322 3On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.] The two first quartos read: “Let it be so: and loe on Wednesday next “We solemnly proclaim our coronation: “Lords, be ready all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 323 4&lblank; as sharp to them as thorn.] This pathetic denunciation shows that Shakspeare intended to impress his auditors with a dislike of the deposal of Richard. Johnson.

Note return to page 324 5To bury &lblank;] To conceal, to keep secret. Johnson. So, in Every Man in his Humour, by Ben Jonson: “Lock'd up in silence, midnight, buried here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 325 6&lblank; but to effect &lblank;] The old copies redundantly read—“but also to effect.” Steevens.

Note return to page 326 7In the first edition there is no personal appearance of King Richard, so that all to the line at which he leaves the stage was inserted afterwards. Johnson.

Note return to page 327 8To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,] The Tower of London is traditionally said to have been the work of Julius Cæsar. Johnson. By—ill-erected, I suppose, is meant—erected for bad purposes. Steevens.

Note return to page 328 9Here let us rest, if, &c.] So, Milton: “Here rest, if any rest can harbour here.” Johnson. And Browne, in his Britannia's Pastorals, b. ii. song iii. 1613: “&lblank; Night and day upon the hard'ned stones “Rests, if a rest can be &lblank;,” &c. Holt White.

Note return to page 329 1&lblank; see, My fair rose wither:] Even the Cronykil of A. of Wyntown, on this occasion, is not unpoetical: “The king Richard of Yngland “Wes in his flowris than regnand:— “Bot his flowis eftyr sone “Fadyt, and ware all undone.” B. ix. ch. xviii. v. 61, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 330 2Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;] The Queen uses comparative terms absolutely. Instead of saying, Thou who appearest as the ground on which the magnificence of Troy was once erected, she says: “Ah, thou the model, &c. “Thou map of honour;”— Thou picture of greatness. Johnson. Model, it has already been observed, is used by our author, for a thing made after a pattern. He is, I believe, singular in this use of the word. Thou ruined majesty, says the Queen, that resemblest the desolated waste where Troy once stood. So, before: “Who was the model of thy father's life.” In our author's Rape of Lucrece, sleep is called “the map of death.” Malone.

Note return to page 331 3&lblank; beauteous inn,] Inn does not here signify a house of publick entertainment; but a dignified habitation. So, in an ancient satirical song, quoted by the Rev. T. Warton, in his Hist. of English Poetry, vol. i. 45: “Syre Simonde de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, “Hevede he nou here the erle of Waryn, “Shuld he never more come to is yn.” Lord Howard's magnificent seat in Essex is still called Audley-Inn. Steevens. I cannot agree with Steevens. Inn means a house of entertainment, and is opposed to alehouse in the following line. M. Mason.

Note return to page 332 4Join not with grief,] Do not thou unite with grief against me; do not, by thy additional sorrows, enable grief to strike me down at once. My own part of sorrow I can bear, but thy affliction will immediately destroy me. Johnson.

Note return to page 333 5&lblank; I am sworn brother, &lblank; To grim necessity,] I have reconciled myself to necessity, I am in a state of amity with the constraint which I have sustained. Johnson. The expression—sworn brother, alludes to the fratres jurati, who, in the ages of adventure, bound themselves by mutual oaths, to share fortunes together. See Mr. Whalley's note on King Henry V. Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 334 6The king of beasts?] So the original quarto. In all subsequent editions—a king of beasts. Malone.

Note return to page 335 7&lblank; king of men.] 'Tis marvellous, that Mr. Upton did not quote this passage as an evidence of our author's learning, and observe, that a more faithful translation of Homer's &grasa;&grn;&gra;&grc; &gras;&grn;&grd;&grr;&grwc;&grn; could not have been made. Steevens.

Note return to page 336 8&lblank; to quit their griefs,] To retaliate their mournful stories. Johnson.

Note return to page 337 9Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,] Thus the folio. So, in King Henry VIII.: “And when you would say something that is sad, “Speak how I fell.” The reading, however, of the first quarto, 1597, is also much in our author's manner: “Tell thou the lamentable tale of me &lblank;.” But the consideration that fall, the reading of the folio, was not copied from the corruption of any precedent quarto, and its correspondence with the quotation from Henry VIII. induce me to think it was Shakspeare's alteration, and to depart from the original copy, which I never do without reluctance. Malone.

Note return to page 338 1&lblank; For why,] The poet should have ended this speech with the foregoing line, and have spared his childish prattle about the fire. Johnson. This is certainly childish prattle, as Johnson calls it; but it is of the same stamp with the other speeches of Richard, after the landing of Bolingbroke, which are a strange medley of sense and puerility. M. Mason.

Note return to page 339 2&lblank; there is order ta'en for you;] So, in Othello: “Honest Iago hath ta'en order for it.” Malone.

Note return to page 340 3And he shall think,] The conjunction—And, without which the metre is deficient, was supplied by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 341 2Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.] A kiss appears to have been an established circumstance in our ancient nuptial ceremony. So, in Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1613, the Duke, on parting with his wife, says to her: “The kiss thou gav'st me in the church, here take.” Steevens.

Note return to page 342 3&lblank; Hallowmas,] All-hallows, or All-hallowtide; the first of November. Steevens.

Note return to page 343 4That were some love, &c.] The quartos give this speech to the King. Steevens.

Note return to page 344 5Then whither he goes, thither let me go.] So, in the Book of Ruth, i. 16:—“for whither thou goest, I will go.” Steevens.

Note return to page 345 6Better far off, than—near, be ne'er the near'.] To be never the nigher, or, as it is commonly spoken in the midland counties, ne'er the ne'er, is, to make no advance towards the good desired. Johnson. So, in The Legend of Shore's Wife, by Thomas Churchyard, Mirrour for Magistrates, 1578: “Compel the hauke to sit, that is unmann'd, “Or make the hound untaught to draw the deere, “Or bring the free against his will in band, “Or move the sad a pleasant tale to hear, “Your time is lost, and you are never the near.” The meaning is, ‘it is better to be at a great distance, than being near each other, to find that we yet are not likely to be peaceably and happily united.’ Malone.

Note return to page 346 7&lblank; and kill thy heart.] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; they have murder'd this poor heart of mine.” Malone. Again, in King Henry V. Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days: the king hath kill'd his heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 347 7&lblank; and his Duchess.] The first wife of Edward Duke of York, was Isabella, the younger daughter and co-heir of Peter, king of Castle and Leon, called the Cruel. He married her in 1372, and by her he had the Duke of Aumerle, and all his other children. In introducing her in the scene in the present play, our poet has departed more widely from history than he has done in making Richard's queen sustain the part he has assigned to her; for Isabella of France, who, as has been already observed, was a child in 1398, he has introduced as a woman; but the Duchess of York he has summoned from the grave, for she died in the year 1394, four or five years before the commencement of the present play. After her death, the Duke of York married Joan, daughter of John Holland, Earl of Kent, who survived him about thirty-four years, and had afterwards three other husbands. Malone.

Note return to page 348 8With painted imag'ry, had said at once,] Our author probably was thinking of the painted clothes that were hung in the streets, in the pageants that were exhibited in his own time; in which the figures sometimes had labels issuing from their mouths, containing sentences of gratulation. Malone.

Note return to page 349 9As in a theatre, &c.] “The painting of this description (says Dryden, in his Preface to Troilus and Cressida,) is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it, in any other language.” Steevens.

Note return to page 350 1Are idly bent &lblank;] That is, carelessly turned, thrown without attention. This the poet learned by his attendance and practice on the stage. Johnson.

Note return to page 351 2His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,] There is, I believe, no image which our poet more delighted in than this. So, in a former scene of this play: “As a long-parted mother with her child, “Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting.” Again, in King Lear: “Patience and sorrow strove “Who should express her goodliest: “&lblank; her smiles and tears “Were like a better May.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; nobly he yokes “A smiling with a sigh.” Again, in Macbeth: “My plenteous joys, “Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves “In drops of sorrow.” Again, in Coriolanus: “Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; I am a fool “To weep at what I am glad of.” So, also, Drayton, in his Mortimeriados, 4to. 1596: “With thy sweete kisses so them both beguile, “Untill they smiling weep, and weeping smile.” Malone.

Note return to page 352 3Aumerle that was;] The Dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter, were, by an act of Henry's first parliament, deprived of their dukedoms, but were allowed to retain their earldoms of Rutland, Kent, and Huntingdon. Holinshed, p. 513, 514. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 4That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?] So, in Milton's Song on May Morning: “&lblank; who from her green lap throws “The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.” Steevens.

Note return to page 354 5&lblank; bear you well &lblank;] That is, conduct yourself with prudence. Johnson.

Note return to page 355 *Quartos, do these justs and triumphs hold?

Note return to page 356 6&lblank; justs and triumphs?] Triumphs are shows, such as masks, revels, &c. So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI. Act V. Sc. VII.: “And now what rests, but that we spend the time “With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows, “Such as befit the pleasures of the court?” Steevens.

Note return to page 357 7What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?] The seals of deeds were formerly impressed on slips or labels of parchment appendant to them. Malone.

Note return to page 358 8Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.] Such harsh and defective lines as this, are probably corrupt, and might be easily supplied, but that it would be dangerous to let conjecture loose on such slight occasions. Johnson. Perhaps, like many other speeches in this scene, it was not intended for verse. Malone.

Note return to page 359 9&lblank; amaz'd:] i. e. perplexed, confounded. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “That cannot choose but amaze him. If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.” Steevens.

Note return to page 360 1Inquire at London, &c.] This is a very proper introduction to the future character of Henry the Fifth, to his debaucheries in his youth, and his greatness in his manhood. Johnson. Shakspeare seldom attended to chronology. The prince was at this time but twelve years old, for he was born in 1388, and the conspiracy on which the present scene is formed, was discovered in the beginning of the year 1400.—He scarcely frequented taverns or stews at so early an age. He afterwards highly distinguished himself at the battle of Shrewsbury, in 1403, when he was but fifteen. The period of his dissipation was afterwards, probably between the year 1405 and 1409, that is, between the age of seventeen and twenty-one. See further on this subject in the notes on the first part of King Henry the Fourth. Malone. It has been ably contended by the late Mr. Luders, that the whole story of his dissipation at any period was a fiction. See his ingenious Essay on the Character of Henry the Fifth. Boswell.

Note return to page 361 2While he,] All the old copies read—Which he. Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 362 3&lblank; pluck a glove,] So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578, Lamia, the strumpet, says: “Who loves me once is lymed to my heast, “My colour some, and some shall wear my glove.” Again, in The Shoemaker's Holiday, or Gentle Craft, 1600: “Or shall I undertake some martial sport “Wearing your glove at turney or at tilt, “And tell how many gallants I unhors'd?” Steevens.

Note return to page 363 4I see some sparkles of a better hope,] The folio reads: “&lblank; sparks of better hope.” The quarto, 1615: “&lblank; sparkles of better hope.” Steevens. The first quarto has—“sparkes of better hope.” The article was inserted by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 364 5If on &lblank;] So the old copies. ‘If your fault stand only on intention.’ Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read but, which affords an easy sense; but it is very unlikely that a compositor should print on for but. Malone.

Note return to page 365 6Thou sheer, immaculate, &c.] Sheer is pellucid, transparent. Some of the modern editors arbitrarily read clear. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. ii.: “Who having viewed in a fountain shere “Her face,” &c. Again, in b. iii. c. xi.: “That she at last came to a fountain shere.” Again, in the fourth book of Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, 1587: “The water was so pure and sheere,” &c. Transparent muslin is still called sheer muslin. Steevens.

Note return to page 366 7Thy overflow of good converts to bad,] Mr. Theobald would read: “&lblank; converts the bad.” Steevens. The old reading—“converts to bad,” is right, I believe, though Mr. Theobald did not understand it. “The overflow of good in thee is turned to bad in thy son; and that same abundant goodness in thee shall excuse his transgression.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 367 8&lblank; digressing son,] Thus the old copies, and rightly. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Digressing from the valour of a man.” To digress is to deviate from what is right or regular. Some of the modern editors read:—transgressing. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 9&lblank; The Beggar and the King.] The King and the Beggar seems to have been an interlude well known in the time of our author, who has alluded to it more than once. I cannot now find that any copy of it is left. Johnson. “The King and Beggar” was perhaps once an interlude; it was certainly a song. The reader will find it in the first volume of Dr. Percy's collection. It is there entitled, King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid; and is printed from Rich. Johnson's Crown Garland of Goulden Roses, 1612, 12mo. where it is entitled, simply, A Song of a Beggar and a King. This interlude, or ballad, is mentioned in Cynthia's Revenge, 1613: “Provoke thy sharp Melpomene to sing “The story of a Beggar and the King.” Steevens.

Note return to page 369 1Thou frantick woman, what dost thou make here?] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “What make you here?” Again, in Othello: “Ancient, what makes he here?” Malone.

Note return to page 370 2For ever will I walk upon my knees;] Thus the original copy, 1597; and the following quartos. In the folio, kneel was substituted for walk, in consequence of the reviser's not understanding the phrase. In our author's time it was common, in speaking of a loquacious person, to say, “his tongue walks fast.” See also our poet's 128th Sonnet: “&lblank; They would change their state “And situation with those dancing chips “O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait” The present metaphor is surely not more violent; it gives indeed a spirit and force to the line which is destroyed by the other phrase; to which it is a sufficient objection to ask, on what but her knees could the Duchess kneel? By saying that she will for ever walk upon her knees, she means she will never rise more, and ever move from place to place on her knees, till the king has granted her request. We have other instances beside the present, of words being changed in the folio, in consequence of their not being understood. Thus, in Hamlet, for orisons, in Act IV. the reading of the quarto, we have in the folio, prayers; the former word not being understood. Malone.

Note return to page 371 3Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!] This line is not in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 372 4&lblank; pardonnez moy.] That is, excuse me, a phrase used when any thing is civilly denied. The whole passage is such as I could well wish away. Johnson.

Note return to page 373 5The chopping French &lblank;] Chopping, I suppose, here means jabbering, talking flippantly a language unintelligible to Englishmen; or perhaps it may mean—the French, who clip and mutilate their words. I do not remember to have met the word, in this sense, in any other place. In the universities they talk of chopping logick; and our author in Romeo and Juliet has the same phrase: “How now! how now! chop logick?” Malone.

Note return to page 374 6With all my heart I pardon him.] The old copies read—“I pardon him with all my heart.” The transposition was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 375 7A god on earth thou art.] So, in Cymbeline: “He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god.” Steevens.

Note return to page 376 8But for our trusty brother-in-law.] The brother-in-law meant, was John Duke of Exeter and Earl of Huntingdon (own brother to King Richard II.) and who had married with the lady Elizabeth, sister of Henry Bolingbroke. Theobald.

Note return to page 377 9&lblank; the abbot,] i. e. the Abbot of Westminster. Theobald.

Note return to page 378 1Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.] Again, in King Richard III.: “Death and destruction dog thee at the heels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 379 2&lblank; cousin too, adieu:] Too, which is not in the old copy, was added by Mr. Theobald, for the sake of the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 380 3&lblank; and will rid his foe.] i. e. destroy his foe. So, in The Tempest: “The red plague rid you!” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “Look in his youth to have him so cut off, “As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince.” Malone.

Note return to page 381 4&lblank; people this little world;] i. e. his own frame;— “the state of man;” which in our author's Julius Cæsar is said to be “like a litte kingdom.” So also, in his Lover's Complaint: “Storming my world with sorrow's wind and rain.” Again, in King Lear: “Strives in this little world of man to outscorn “The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 4&lblank; the word itself Against the word:] By the word, I suppose, is meant, the holy word. The folio reads: “&lblank; the faith itself “Against the faith.” Steevens. The reading of the text is that of the first quarto, 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 383 5Thus play I, in one person,] Alluding, perhaps, to the necessities of our early theatres. The title-pages of some of our Moralities show, that three or four characters were frequently represented by one person. Steevens. Thus the first quarto 1597. All the subsequent old copies have—prison. Malone.

Note return to page 384 6To check &lblank;] Thus the first quarto 1597. The folio reads— “To hear.” Of this play the first quarto copy is much more valuable than that of the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 385 7For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock: My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, &c.] I think this passage must be corrupt, but I know not well how to make it better. The first quarto reads: “My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar, “Their watches on unto mine eyes the outward watch.” The quarto 1615: “My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar, “There watches on unto mine eyes the outward watch.” The first folio agrees with the second quarto. Perhaps out of these two readings the right may be made. Watch seems to be used in a double sense, for a quantity of time, and for the instrument that measures time. I read, but with no great confidence, thus: “My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar “Their watches on; mine eyes the outward watch, “Whereto,” &c. Johnson. I am unable to throw any certain light on this passage. A few hints, however, which may tend to its illustration, are left for the service of future commentators. The outward watch, as I am informed, was the moveable figure of a man habited like a watchman, with a pole and lantern in his hand. The figure had the word—watch written on its forehead; and was placed above the dial-plate. This information was derived from an artist after the operation of a second cup: therefore neither Mr. Tollet, who communicated it, or myself, can vouch for its authenticity, or with any degree of confidence apply it to the passage before us* [Subnote: *Mr. Dutton, of Fleet Street, has since confirmed to me this intelligence. Steevens.] . Such a figure, however, appears to have been alluded to in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “&lblank; he looks like one of these motions in a great antique clock,” &c. A motion anciently signified a puppet. Again, in his Sejanus: “Observe him, as his watch observes his clock.” Again, in Churchyard's Charitie, 1595: “The clocke will strike in haste, I heare the watch “That sounds the bell &lblank;.” The same thought also occurs in Greene's Perimedes, 1588: “Disquiet thoughts the minuts of her watch.” To jar is, I believe, to make that noise which is called ticking. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind,” &c. Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “&lblank; the minutes jarring, the clock striking.” Steevens. There appears to be no reason for supposing with Dr. Johnson, that this passage is corrupt. It should be recollected, that there are three ways in which a clock notices the progress of time; viz. by the libration of the pendulum, the index on the dial, and the striking of the hour. To these, the King, in his comparison, severally alludes; his sighs corresponding to the jarring of the pendulum, which at the same time that it watches or numbers the seconds, marks also their progress in minutes on the dial or outward-watch, to which the King compares his eyes; and their want of figures is supplied by a succession of tears, or, (to use an expression of Milton,) minute drops: his finger, by as regularly wiping these away, performs the office of the dial's point:—his clamorous groans are the sounds that tell the hour. In King Henry IV. Part II. tears are used in a similar manner: “But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears, “By number, into hours of happiness.” Henley.

Note return to page 386 8Now, sir, &c.] Should we not read thus: “Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is, “Are clamorous groans,” &c. Ritson.

Note return to page 387 9&lblank; his Jack o' the clock.] That is, I strike for him. One of these automatons is alluded to in King Richard III. Act IV. Sc. III.: “Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke, “Between thy begging and my meditation.” Again, in an old comedy, entitled, If this be not a good Play the Devil is in it, 1612: “&lblank; so would I, “And we their jacks o' the clockhouse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 1This musick mads me, let it sound no more;] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “The little birds that tune their morning throats, “Make her moans mad with their sweet melody.” Malone.

Note return to page 389 2For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,] In what degree musick was supposed to be useful in curing madness, the reader may receive information from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part II. sect. ii. Reed. The allusion is perhaps to the persons bit by the tarantula, who are said to be cured by musick. Malone.

Note return to page 390 3&lblank; and love to Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.] i. e. is as strange and uncommon as a brooch which is now no longer worn. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion, richly suited, but unsuitable; just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now.” Malone. That the word brooch was applied to a particular kind of ornament is certain; but it also signifies a jewel in general: and it appears to me, that Richard means to say that love to him was a strange jewel in an all-hating world, without any reference to the fashion of wearing brooches. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason asserted, that a brooch meant a jewel in general; but there is no foundation for this assertion. A brooch, being usually ornamented with some gem, was considered and denominated a jewel; but no jewel could be denominated a brooch, unless it were appended to that particular pin from which the name is derived. Malone. “&lblank; in this all-hating world.” I believe the meaning is, this world in which I am universally hated. Johnson. I think, he rather means, a world in which the spirit of hatred was prevalent. M. Mason.

Note return to page 391 4The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.] It must be recollected that royals and nobles were names of coins. Boswell.

Note return to page 392 5Where no man never comes, but that sad dog &lblank;] It should be remembered that the word sad was, in the time of our author, used for grave. The expression will then be the same as if he had said, that grave, that gloomy villain. So, in Holinshed, p. 730: “With that, the recorder called Fitzwilliam, a sad man, and an honest,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 393 6&lblank; sometimes master's face.] The old copy, redundantly— “&lblank; sometimes royal master's face.” Steevens. Sometimes was used for formerly, as well as sometime, which the modern editors have substituted. So, in Speed's History of Great Britaine, 1611:—“A catalogue of the religious houses, &c. sometimes in England and Wales.” Malone.

Note return to page 394 7Rode he on Barbary?] This story of Roan Barbary might have been of Shakspeare's own invention. Froissart, however, relates a yet more silly tale concerning a favourite grey hound of King Richard's, “who was wont to lepe upon the King, but left the King and came to the erle of Derby duke of Lancastre, and made to hym the same frendly countinaunce and chere as he was wonte to do to the King,” &c. Froissart, vol. ii. fo. CCC. xxx. Steevens.

Note return to page 395 8&lblank; by jauncing Bolingbroke.] Jaunce and jaunt were synonymous words. Ben Jonson uses geances in his Tale of a Tub: “I would I had a few more geances of it: “And you say the word, send me to Jericho.” Steevens.

Note return to page 396 *These stage directions are not in the old copies.

Note return to page 397 *These stage directions are not in the old copies.

Note return to page 398 8&lblank; here to die.] Shakspeare in this scene has followed Holinshed, who took his account of Richard's death from Hall, as Hall did from Fabian, in whose Chronicle, I believe, this story of Sir Piers of Exton first appeared. Froissart, who had been in England in 1396, and who appears to have finished his Chronicle soon after the death of the king, says, “how he died, and by what meanes, I could not tell whanne I wrote this cronicle.” Had he had been murdered by eight armed men, (for such is Fabian's story,) “four of whom he slew with his own hand,” and from whom he must have received many wounds, surely such an event must have reached the ears of Froissart, who had a great regard for the king, having received from him at his departure from England “a goblet of silver and gilt, waying two marke of silver, and within it a C. nobles; by the whych (he adds) I am as yet the better, and shal be as longe as I live; wherefore I am bounde to pray to God for his soule, and wyth muche sorowe I wryte of his deathe.” Nor is this story of his murder consistent with the account (which is not controverted) of his body, after being submitted to public inspection in the church of Pomfret, being brought to London and exposed in Cheapside for two hours, (“his heade on a blacke quishen, and his vysage open,”) where it was viewed, says Froisart, by twenty thousand persons, and finally in St. Paul's cathedral. The account given by Stowe, who seems to have had before him a Manuscript History of the latter part of Richard's life, written by a person who was with him in Wales, appears much more probable. He says, “he was imprisoned in Pomfrait Castle, where xv dayes and nightes they vexed him with continuall hunger, thirst, and cold, and finally bereft him of his life, with such a kind of death as never before that time was knowen in England, saith Sir John Fortiscute,” probably in his Declaration touching the Title of the House of Yorke, a work yet, I believe, somewhere existing in MS. Sir John Fortescue was called to the bar a few years after the death of Richard; living therefore so near the time, his testimony is of the highest weight. And with him Harding, who is known to have been at the battle of Shrewsbury in 1403, concurs: “Men sayd for-hungered he was.” Chron. 1543, fol. 199. So also Walsingham, who wrote in the time of Henry V. and Polydore Virgil. The Percies, in the Manifesto which they published against King Henry IV. in the third yeare of his reign, the day before the battle of Shrewsbury, expressly charge him with having “carried his sovereign lord traiterously within the castell of Pomfret, without his consent or the judgement of the lordes of the realm,—by the space of fiftene daies and so many nightes, (which is horrible among christian people to be heard,) with hunger, thirst, and cold, to perishe,” and this they offer to prove. Had the story of Sir Pierce of Exton been true, it undoubtedly must have reached them. Their not mentioning it is decisive. “They were (as Caste justly observes) the likeliest persons of any to know the truth of the fact, the tragedy having been acted in the county of York, and in their neighbourhood.” See their Letter of Defiance, in Latin, extracted by Mr. Henry Ellis, from a manuscript copy of Hardinge's Chronicle, in the British Museum, [Harl. MS. 661, f. 152,) in the sixteenth volume of Archæologia, p. 140: The following is the passage, descriptive of the murder: “Item nos ponimus dicimus et probare intendimus, quod ubi tu nobis jurasti super eadem Evangelia eidem tempore et loco* [Subnote: *At Doncaster, while forming an army by the help of the Percies.] , quod Dominus noster et tuus Rex Ricardus regnaret dum viveret in regalibus prerogativis suis. Tu ipsum Dominum nostrum Regem et tuum proditiorie in Castro tuo de Pontefreite, sine consensuo suo, seu judicio Dominorum Regni, per quindecim dies et tot noctes, quod horrendum est into Christianos audiri, scitu et frigore interfici fecisti et murdro petiri, unde perjuratus es et falsus.” If, however, we are to give credit to Sir John Hayward, this controverted point will not admit of dispute; for in The First Part of the Life and Reign of King Henry IV. 4to. 1559, after relating the story of King Richard's assassination, he very gravely tells us, that “after being felled to the ground, he with a faint and feeble voice groaned forth these words: “My great grandfather King Edward II.,” &c. This unfortunate monarch expired, according to a French contemporary historian, Le Laboreur, January 6th, 1399–1400, after a miserable confinement of some what more than three months. Malone. The whole of the curious document referred to by Mr. Malone, may be found in my friend Mr. Ellis's valuable republication of Hardinge's Chronicle, 1812, p. 351. Boswell.

Note return to page 399 9Dies.] The representation here given of the King's death is perfectly agreeable to Hall and Holinshed. But the fact was otherwise. He refused food for several days, and died of abstinence and a broken heart. See Walsingham, Otterbourne, the Monk of Evesham, the continuator of the History of Croyland, and the anonymous Godstow Chronicle. Ritson.

Note return to page 400 1&lblank; of Salisbury, Spenser, Blunt, and Kent:] So the folio. The quarto reads—“&lblank; of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent.” It appears from the histories of this reign that the reading of the folio is right. Malone.

Note return to page 401 2The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, &lblank; Hath yielded up his body to the grave;] This Abbot of Westminster was William de Colchester. The relation here given of his death, after Holinshed's Chronicle, is untrue, as he survived the King many years; and though called “the grand conspirator,” it is very doubtful whether he had any concern in the conspiracy; at least nothing was proved against him. Ritson.

Note return to page 402 3Carlisle, this is your doom:] This prelate was committed to the Tower, but on the intercession of his friends, obtained leave to change his prison for Westminster-Abbey. In order to deprive him of his see, the Pope, at the King's instance, translated him to a bishoprick in partibus infidelium; and the only preferment he could ever after obtain, was a rectory in Gloucestershire. He died in 1409. Ritson.

Note return to page 403 4High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.] Thus, in the old Play of The History of King Leir, &c.: “I see such sparks of honour in your face.” Hence, perhaps, as Mr. Todd observes, Milton, in his Arcades, v. 26: “I see bright honour sparkle in your eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 5This play is extracted from the Chronicle of Holinshed, in which many passages may be found which Shakspeare has, with very little alteration, transplanted into his scenes; particularly a speech of the Bishop of Carlisle, in defence of King Richard's unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction. Jonson, who, in his Catiline and Sejanus, has inserted many speeches from the Roman historians, was perhaps induced to that practice by the example of Shakspeare, who had condescended sometimes to copy more ignoble writers. But Shakspeare had more of his own than Jonson; and, if he sometimes was willing to spare his labour, showed by what he performed at other times, that his extracts were made by choice or idleness rather than necessity. This play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding. Johnson. The notion that Shakspeare revised this play, though it has long prevailed, appears to me extremely doubtful; or, to speak more plainly, I do not believe it. See further on this subject in The Essay on the Chronological Order of Shakspeare's Plays. Malone.

Note return to page 405 1Prince John of Lancaster.] The persons of the drama were originally collected by Mr. Rowe, who has given the title of Duke of Lancaster, to Prince John, a mistake which Shakspeare has been no where guilty of in the first part of this play, though in the second he has fallen into the same error. King Henry IV. was himself the last person that ever bore the title of Duke of Lancaster. But all his sons (till they had peerages, as Clarence, Bedford, Gloucester,) were distinguished by the name of the royal house, as John of Lancaster, Humphrey of Lancaster, &c. and in that proper style, the present John (who became afterwards so illustrious by the title of Duke of Bedford,) is always mentioned in the play before us. Steevens.

Note return to page 406 2Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils &lblank;] That is, let us soften peace to rest a while without disturbance, that she may recover breath to propose new wars. Johnson.

Note return to page 407 3No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;] Perhaps the following conjecture may be thought very far fetched, and yet I am willing to venture it, because it often happens that a wrong reading has affinity to the right. We might read: “&lblank; the thirsty entrants of this soil;” i. e. those who set foot on this kingdom through the thirst of power or conquest, as the speaker himself had done, on his return to England after banishment. Whoever is accustomed to the old copies of this author, will generally find the words consequents, occurrents, ingredients, spelt consequence, occurrence, ingredience; and thus, perhaps, the French word entrants, anglicized by Shakspeare, might have been corrupted into entrance, which affords no very apparent meaning. By her lips Shakspeare may mean the lips of peace, who is mentioned in the second line; or may use the thirsty entrance of the soil, for the porous surface of the earth, through which all moisture enters, and is thirstily drank, or soaked up. So, in an Ode inserted by Gascoigne in his Francis and Kinwelmersh's translation of the Phœnissæ of Euripides: “And make the greedy ground a drinking cup, “To sup the blood of murder'd bodies up.” Steevens. If there be no corruption in the text, I believe Shakspeare meant, however licentiously, to say, “No more shall this soil have the lips of her thirsty entrance, or mouth, daubed with the blood of her own children.” “Her lips,” in my apprehension, refers to soil in the preceding line, and not to peace, as has been suggested. Shakspeare seldom attends to the integrity of his metaphors. In the second of these lines he considers the soil or earth of England as a person; (So, in King Richard II.: “Tells them, he does bestride a bleeding land, “Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke.”) and yet in the first line the soil must be understood in its ordinary material sense, as also in a subsequent line in which its fields are said to be channelled with war. Of this kind of incongruity our author's plays furnish innumerable instances. Daub, the reading of the earliest copy, is confirmed by a passage in King Richard II. where we again meet with the image presented here: “For that our kingdom's earth shall not be soil'd “With that dear blood which it hath fostered.” The same kind of imagery is found in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk:” In which passage, as well as in that before us, the poet had perhaps the sacred writings in his thoughts: “And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand.” Gen. iv. 2. This last observation has been made by an anonymous writer. Again, in King Richard II.: “Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, “Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.” The earth may with equal propriety be said to “daub her lips with blood,” as to be made drunk with blood. A passage in the old play of King John, 1591, may throw some light on that before us: “Is all the blood y-spilt on either part, “Closing the crannies of the thirsty earth, “Grown to a love-game, and a bridal feast?” Malone. The thirsty entrance of the soil is nothing more or less, than the face of the earth parch'd and crack'd as it always appears in a dry summer. As to its being personified, it is certainly no such unusual practice with Shakspeare. Every one talks familiarly of Mother Earth; and they who live upon her face, may without much impropriety be called her children. Our author only confines the image to his own country. The allusion is to the Barons' wars. Ritson. The amendment which I should propose, is to read Erinnys, instead of entrance.—By Erinnys is meant the fury of discord. The Erinnys of the soil, may possibly be considered as an uncommon mode of expression, as in truth it is; but it is justified by a passage in the second Æneid of Virgil, where Æneas calls Helen— &lblank; Trojæ et patriæ communis Erinnys. And an expression somewhat similar occurs in The First Part of King Henry VI. where Sir William Lucy says: “Is Talbot slain? the Frenchman's only scourge, “Your kingdom's terror, and black Nemesis?” It is evident that the words, “her own children, her fields, her flowrets,” must all necessarily refer to this soil; and that Shakspeare in this place, as in many others, uses the personal pronoun instead of the impersonal; her instead of its; unless we suppose he means to personify the soil, as he does in King Richard II. where Bolingbroke departing on his exile says: “&lblank; sweet soil, adieu! “My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet.” M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's conjecture (which I prefer to any explanation hitherto offered respecting this difficult passage,) may receive support from N. Ling's Epistle prefixed to Wit's Commonwealth, 1598: “&lblank; I knowe there is nothing in this worlde but is subject to the Erynnis of ill-disposed persons.”—The same phrase also occurs in the tenth book of Lucan: Dedecus Ægypti, Latio feralis Erinnys.” Again, in the 5th Thebaid of Statius, v. 202: &lblank; cuncta suo regnat Erinnys Pectore. Amidst these uncertainties of opinion, however, let me present our readers with a single fact on which they may implicitly rely; viz. that Shakspeare could not have designed to open his play with a speech, the fifth line of which is obscure enough to demand a series of comments thrice as long as the dialogue to which it is appended. All that is wanted, on this emergency, seems to be—a just and striking personification, or, rather, a proper name. The former of these is not discoverable in the old reading—entrance; but the latter, furnished by Mr. M. Mason, may, I think, be safely admitted, as it affords a natural unembarrassed introduction to the train of imagery that succeeds. Let us likewise recollect, that, by the first editors of our author, Hyperion had been changed into Epton; and that Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1613, concludes with a speech so darkened by corruptions, that the comparison in the fourth line of it is absolutely unintelligible.—It stands as follows: “Night, like a masque, is entred heaven's great hall, “With thousand torches ushering the way: “To Risus will we consecrate this evening, “Like Messermis cheating of the brack, “Weele make this night the day,” &c.* [Subnote: *Since my introduction of this corrupted line, I have discovered the true sense of it. Read: “Like Mycerinus cheating of the oracle, “We'll make,” &c. brack oracle The printer took the MS. o for a b, and the le for a k. See the Euterpe of Herodotus, for the history of Mycerinus, who, changing night into day, by means of lamps and torches, and thus apparently multiplying his predicted six years of life into twelve, designed to convict the oracle of falsehood. Steevens.] Is it impossible, therefore, that Erinnys may have been blundered into entrance, a transformation almost as perverse and mysterious as the foregoing in Marston's tragedy? Being nevertheless aware that Mr. M. Mason's gallant effort to produce an easy sense, will provoke the slight objections and petty cavils of such as restrain themselves within the bounds of timid conjecture, it is necessary I should subjoin, that his present emendation was not inserted in our text on merely my own judgement, but with the deliberate approbation of Dr. Farmer.—Having now prepared for controversy—signa canant! Steevens. Although a compositor might easily fall into an error in printing an uncommon proper name, such as Mycerinus, yet Erinnys for entrance, is, as far as I can learn, a blunder which could scarcely by possibility have happened. To Mr. Steevens's first conjecture, which he has preserved, although afterwards inclined to dismiss it for Mr. Mason's “gallant effort,” it may be objected that thirsty is not a very suitable epithet to be applied to invaders. Mr. Malone seems to think that the reading of the old copies, entrance, presents a broken metaphor. I should wish to adopt Mr. Douce's conjecture, and read—entrails, and the meaning will then be: “No more the thirsty entrails of this soil shall cause her to daub her lips with her own children's blood.” It is not, I apprehend, an uncommon licence in language to represent the cause of a thing as actually doing it. So, in Antonio and Mellida: “Now lions half-clem'd entrails roar for food.” Here surely it is not meant that the entrails roared, which would suggest a ludicrous image; but that the lion, whose entrails were half-clem'd with hunger, roared for food. Boswell.

Note return to page 408 4&lblank; like the meteors of a troubled heaven,] Namely, long streaks of red, which represent the lines of armies; the appearance of which, and their likeness to such lines, gave occasion to all the superstition of the common people concerning armies in the air, &c. Warburton.

Note return to page 409 5As far as to the sepulchre, &c.] The lawfulness and justice of the holy wars have been much disputed; but perhaps there is a principle on which the question may be easily determined. If it be part of the religion of the Mahometans to extirpate by the sword all other religions, it is, by the laws of self-defence, lawful for men of every other religion, and for Christians among others, to make war upon Mahometans, simply as Mahometans, as men obliged by their own principles to make war upon Christians, and only lying in wait till opportunity shall promise them success. Johnson. Upon this note Mr. Gibbon makes the following observation: “If the reader will turn to the first scene of The First Part of King Henry IV. he will see in the text of Shakspeare, the natural feelings of enthusiasm; and in the notes of Dr. Johnson, the workings of a bigotted, though vigorous mind, greedy of every pretence to hate and persecute those who dissent from his creed.” Gibbon's History, vol. vi. 9, 4to. edit. Reed. Mr. Gibbon's petulant remark was a gross misrepresentation of Johnson's meaning. He does not say that Mahometans may be persecuted because their creed is false; but, that we are justified, upon the ground of self-defence, in making war upon those who are taught by their creed that it is their duty to attack us. Boswell.

Note return to page 410 6&lblank; shall we levy;] To levy a power of English as far as to the sepulchre of Christ, is an expression quite unexampled, if not corrupt. We might propose lead, without violence to the sense, or too wide a deviation from the traces of the letters. In Pericles, however, the same verb is used in a mode as uncommon: “Never did thought of mine levy offence.” Steevens. “The expression—“As far as to the sepulchre,” &c. does not, as I conceive, signify—to the distance of, &c. but—“so far only as regards the sepulchre,” &c. Douce. “The expression, (says Mr. Gifford in his Ben Jonson, vol. v. p. 138,) is neither unexampled nor corrupt; but good authorized English. One instance of it is before me: ‘Scipio, before he levied his force to the walles of Carthage, gave his soldiers the print of the citie on a cake to be devoured.’” Gosson's School of Abuse, 1587, l. 4. Boswell.

Note return to page 411 7Therefore we meet not now:] i. e. not on that account do we now meet;—we are not now assembled, to acquaint you with our intended expedition. Malone.

Note return to page 412 8&lblank; this dear expedience.] For expedition. Warburton. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I shall break “The cause of our expedience to the queen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 413 9And many limits &lblank;] Limits, for estimates. Warburton. Limits, as Mr. Heath observes, may mean, outlines, rough sketches, or calculations. Steevens. Limits may mean ‘the regulated and appointed times for the conduct of the business in hand.’ So, in Measure for Measure:— “between the time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I'll make so bold to call, “For 'tis my limited service.” Malone.

Note return to page 414 *Folio, And a.

Note return to page 415 1By those Welshwomen done,] Thus Holinshed, p. 528: “&lblank; such shameful villanie executed upon the carcasses of the dead men by the Welshwomen; as the like (I doo beleeve) hath never or sildome beene practised.” See T. Walsingham, p. 557. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 2&lblank; the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy,] Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 240, says: “This Harry Percy was surnamed, for his often pricking, Henry Hotspur, as one that seldom times rested, if there were anie service to be done abroad.” Tollet.

Note return to page 417 3&lblank; Archibald,] Archibald Douglas, earl Douglas. Steevens.

Note return to page 418 4Stain'd with the variation of each soil &lblank;] No circumstance could have been better chosen to mark the expedition of Sir Walter. It is used by Falstaff in a similar manner: “As it were to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me, but to stand stained with travel.” Henley.

Note return to page 419 5Balk'd in their own blood,] I should suppose, that the author might have written either bath'd, or bak'd, i. e. encrusted over with blood dried upon them. A passage in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632, may countenance the latter of these conjectures: “Troilus lies embak'd “In his cold blood.”— Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; horribly trick'd “With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, “Bak'd and impasted,” &c. Again, in Heywood's Iron Age: “&lblank; bak'd in blood and dust.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; as bak'd in blood.” Steevens. Balk is a ridge; and particularly, a ridge of land: here is therefore a metaphor; and perhaps the poet means, in his bold and careless manner of expression: “Ten thousand bloody carcasses piled up together in a long heap.”—“A ridge of dead bodies piled up in blood.” If this be the meaning of balked, for the greater exactness of construction, we might add to the pointing, viz. “Balk'd, in their own blood,” &c. “Piled up in a ridge, and in their own blood,” &c. But without this punctuation, as at present, the context is more poetical, and presents a stronger image. A balk, in the sense here mentioned, is a common expression in Warwickshire, and the northern counties. It is used in the same signification in Chaucer's Plowman's Tale, p. 182, edit. Urr. v. 2428. Warton. Balk'd in their own blood, I believe, means, laid in heaps or hillocks, in their own blood. Blithe's England's Improvement, p. 118, observes: “The mole raiseth balks in meads and pastures.” In Leland's Itinerary, vol. v. p. 16 and 118, vol. vii. p. 10, a balk signifies a bank or hill. Mr. Pope, in the Iliad, has the same thought: “On heaps the Greeks, on heaps the Trojans bled, “And thick'ning round them rise the hills of dead.” Tollet. In Chapman's Translation of the Shield of Achilles, 4to. 1598, the word balk also occurs: “Amongst all these all silent stood their king, “Upon a balk, his scepter in his hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 6Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son To beaten Douglas;] The article—the, which is wanting in the old copies, was supplied by Mr. Pope. Mr. Malone, however, thinks it needless, and says “the word earl is here used as a dissyllable.” Mordake earl of Fife, who was son to the duke of Albany, regent of Scotland, is here called the son of earl Douglas, through a mistake into which the poet was led by the omission of a comma in the passage of Holinshed from whence he took this account of the Scottish prisoners. It stands thus in the historian: “&lblank; and of prisoners, Mordacke earl of Fife, son to the gouvernour Archembald earle Dowglas,” &c. The want of a comma after gouvernour, makes these words appear to be the description of one and the same person, and so the poet understood them; but by putting the stop in the proper place, it will then be manifest that in this list Mordake, who was son to the governor of Scotland, was the first prisoner, and that Archibald earl of Douglas was the second, and so on. Steevens. Without reading earl as a dissyllable, the line will not be more defective than many which occur in our poet and his contemporaries. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell

Note return to page 421 7&lblank; and Menteith.] This is a mistake of Holinshed in his English History, for in that of Scotland, p. 259, 262, and 419, he speaks of the Earl of Fife and Menteith as one and the same person. Steevens.

Note return to page 422 8In faith, It is &lblank;] These words are in the first quarto, 1598, by the inaccuracy of the transcriber, placed at the end of the preceding speech, but at a considerable distance from the last word of it. Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read—“'Faith 'tis,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 423 *So quarto: folio, of so blest a son.

Note return to page 424 9&lblank; the prisoners,] Percy had an exclusive right to these prisoners, except the Earl of Fife. By the law of arms, every man who had taken any captive, whose redemption did not exceed ten thousand crowns, had him clearly for himself, either to acquit or ransom, at his pleasure. It seems from Camden's Britannia, that Pounouny castle in Scotland was built out of the ransom of this very Henry Percy, when taken prisoner at the battle of Otterbourne by an ancestor of the present Earl of Eglinton. Tollet. Percy could not refuse the Earl of Fife to the King; for being a prince of the blood royal, (son to the Duke of Albany, brother to King Robert III.) Henry might justly claim him by his acknowledged military prerogative. Steevens.

Note return to page 425 1Malevolent to you in all aspects;] An astrological allusion. Worcester is represented as a malignant star that influenced the conduct of Hotspur. Henley.

Note return to page 426 2Which makes him prune himself,] The metaphor is taken from a cock, who in his pride prunes himself; that is, picks off the loose feathers to smooth the rest. To prune and to plume, spoken of a bird, is the same. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is certainly right in his choice of the reading. So, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1994: “Sith now thou dost but prune thy wings, “And make thy feathers gay.” Again, in Greene's Metamorphosis, 1613: “Pride makes the fowl to prune his feathers so.” But I am not certain that the verb to prune is justly interpreted. In The Booke of Haukynge, &c. (commonly called The Booke of St. Albans,) is the following account of it: “The hauke proineth when she fetcheth oyle with her beake over the taile, and anointeth her feet and her fethers. She plumeth when she pulleth fethers of anie foule and casteth them from her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 427 *Folio, and so.

Note return to page 428 3Than out of anger can be uttered.] That is, “More is to be said than anger will suffer me to say: more than can issue from a mind disturbed like mine.” Johnson.

Note return to page 429 4&lblank; to demand that truly which thou would'st truly know.] The Prince's objection to the question seems to be, that Falstaff had asked in the night what was the time of the day. Johnson. This cannot be well received as the objection of the Prince; for presently after, the Prince himself says: “Good morrow, Ned,” and Poins replies: “Good morrow, sweet lad.” The truth may be, that when Shakspeare makes the Prince wish Poins a good morrow, he had forgot that the scene commenced at night. Steevens.

Note return to page 430 5Phœbus,—he, that wandering knight so fair,] Falstaff starts the idea of Phœbus, i. e. the sun; but deviates into an allusion to El Donzel del Febo, the “knight of the sun” in a Spanish romance translated (under the title of The Mirror of Knighthood, &c.) during the age of Shakspeare. This illustrious personage was “most excellently faire,” and a great wanderer, as those who travel after him throughout three thick volumes in 4to. will discover. Perhaps the words “that wandering knight so fair,” are part of some forgotten ballad on the subject of this marvellous hero's adventures. In Peele's Old Wives Tale, Com. 1595, Eumenides, “the wandering knight,” is a character. Steevens.

Note return to page 431 6&lblank; let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty;] This conveys no manner of idea to me. How could they be called thieves of the day's beauty? They robbed by moonshine; they could not steal the fair day-light. I have ventured to substitute booty: and this I take to be the meaning. Let us not be called thieves, the purloiners of that booty, which, to the proprietors, was the purchase of honest labour and industry by day. Theobald. It is true, as Mr. Theobald has observed, that they could not steal the fair day-light; but I believe our poet by the expression, “thieves of the day's beauty,” meant only, “let not us who are body squires to the night,” i. e. adorn the night, “be called a disgrace to the day.” To take away the beauty of the day, may probably mean, to disgrace it. A “squire of the body” signified originally, the attendant on a knight; the person who bore his head-piece, spear, and shield. It became afterwards the cant term for a pimp; and is so used in the second part of Decker's Honest Whore, 1630. Again, in The Witty Fair One, 1633, for a procuress: “Here comes the squire of her mistress's body.” Falstaff, however, puns on the word knight. See the Curialia of Samuel Pegge, Esq. Part I. p. 100. Steevens. There is also, I have no doubt, a pun on the word beauty, which in the western counties is pronounced nearly in the same manner as booty. See King Henry VI. Part III.: “So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty.” Malone.

Note return to page 432 7Diana's foresters, &c.] “Exile and slander are justly mee awarded, “My wife and heire lacke lands and lawful right; “And me their lord made dame Diana's knight.” So lamenteth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, in The Mirror for Magistrates. Henderson. We learn from Hall, that certain persons who appeared as foresters in a pageant exhibited in the reign of King Henry VIII. were called Diana's knights. Malone.

Note return to page 433 8&lblank; minions of the moon:] Thus, as Dr. Farmer observes, Gamaliel Ratsey and his company “became servants to the moone, for the sunne was too hot for them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 9&lblank; got with swearing—lay by;] i. e. swearing at the passengers they robbed, “lay by your arms;” or rather, lay by was a phrase that then signified stand still, addressed to those who were preparing to rush forward. But the Oxford editor kindly accommodates these old thieves with a new cant phrase, taken from Bagshot-heath or Finchley-common, of lug out. Warburton. To lay by, is a phrase adopted from navigation, and signifies, by slackening sail to become stationary. It occurs again in King Henry VIII.: “Even the billows of the sea “Hung their heads, and then lay by.” Steevens.

Note return to page 435 1&lblank; and spent with crying—bring in:] i. e. more wine. Malone.

Note return to page 436 2&lblank; And is not my hostess of the tavern, &c.] We meet with the same kind of humour as is contained in this and the three following speeches, in The Mostellaria of Plautus, Act I. Sc. II.: Jampridum ecastor frigidâ non lavi magis lubenter, Nec unde me melius, mea Scapha, rear esse defœcatam. Sca. Eventus rebus omnibus, velut horreo messis magna fuit. Phi. Quid ea messis attinet ad meam lavationem? Sca. Nihilo plus, quam lavatio tua ad messim. In the want of connection to what went before, probably consists the humour of the Prince's question. Steevens. This kind of humour is often met with in old plays. In The Gallathea of Lyly, Phillida says: “It is a pitie that nature framed you not a woman. “Gall. There is a tree in Tylos, &c. “Phill. What a toy it is to tell me of that tree, being nothing to the purpose,” &c. Ben Jonson calls it a game at vapours. Farmer.

Note return to page 437 3As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.] Old lad is likewise a familiar compellation to be found in some of our most ancient dramatick pieces. So, in The Trial of Treasure, 1567: “What, Inclination, old lad art thou there?” In the dedication to Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is up, &c. by T. Nash, 1598, old Dick of the castle is mentioned. Again, in Pierce's Supererogation, or a New Praise of the Old Asse, 1593: “And here's a lusty ladd of the castell, that will binde beares, and ride golden asses to death.” Steevens. I have omitted some long notes here, on the question whether Falstaff was originally termed Oldcastle by Shakspeare, to which it has been supposed there is here an allusion. The contest was renewed in the notes on Henry the Fifth, but I have carried what was said in both places to the end of this play, that the reader may have the whole of the controversy before him at once. Boswell. “Old lad of the castle,” is the same with “Old lad of Castile, a Castilian.—Meres reckons Oliver of the castle amongst his romances: and Gabriel Harvey tells us of “Old lads of the castell with their rapping babble;”—roaring boys.—This is therefore no argument for Falstaff's appearing first under the name of Oldcastle. There is, however, a passage in a play called Amends for Ladies, by Field the player, 1618, which may seem to prove it, unless he confounded the different performances: “&lblank; Did you never see “The play where the fat knight, hight Oldcastle, “Did tell you truly what this honour was?” Farmer.

Note return to page 438 4And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?] To understand the propriety of the Prince's answer, it must be remarked that the sheriff's officers were formerly clad in buff. So that when Falstaff asks, whether “his hostess is not a sweet wench,” the Prince asks in return whether “it will not be a sweet thing to go to prison by running in debt to this sweet wench.” Johnson. The following passage from the old play of Ram-Alley, may serve to confirm Dr. Johnson's observation: “Look, I have certain goblins in buff jerkins, “Lye ambuscado.— [Enter Serjeants.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors, Act IV.: “A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, “A fellow all in buff.” Durance, however, might also have signified some lasting kind of stuff, such as we call at present, everlasting. So, in Westward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607: “Where did'st thou buy this buff? Let me not live but I will give thee a good suit of durance. Wilt thou take my bond?” &c. Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “Varlet of velvet, my moccado villain, old heart of durance, my strip'd canvas shoulders, and my perpetuana pander.” Again, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “As the taylor that out of seven yards, stole one and a half of durance.” Steevens. Sir William Cornwallys in his Essayes says: “I would have a jest never served but once; when it is cold, the vigour and strength of it is gone. I refuse to wear buffe, for the lasting; and shall I be content to apparell my braine in durance?” Again, Sir John Davies, in his Epigrams: “Kate being pleas'd, wisht that her pleasure could “Endure as long as a buffe-jerkin would.” Boswell.

Note return to page 439 5&lblank; I'll be a brave judge.] This thought, like many others, is taken from the old play of King Henry V.: “Hen. V. Ned, so soon as I am king, the first thing I will do shall be to put my lord chief justice out of office; and thou shalt be my lord chief justice of England.” “Ned. Shall I be lord chief justice? By gogs wounds, I'll be the bravest lord chief justice that ever was in England.” Steevens.

Note return to page 440 6For obtaining of suits?] Suit, spoken of one that attends at court, means a petition; used with respect to the hangman, means the clothes of the offender. Johnson. So, in an ancient Medley, bl. l.: “The broker hath gay cloaths to sell “Which from the hangman's budget fell.” Steevens. See vol. ix. p. 146, n. 7. The same quibble occurs in Hoffman's Tragedy, 1631: “A poor maiden, mistress, has a suit to you; and 'tis a good suit,—very good apparel.” Malone.

Note return to page 441 7&lblank; a gib cat,] A gib cat means, I know not why, an old cat. Johnson. A gib cat is the common term in Northamptonshire, and all adjacent counties, to express a he cat. Percy. “As melancholy as a gib'd cat,” is a proverb enumerated among others in Ray's Collection. In A Match at Midnight, 1633, is the following passage: “They swell like a couple of gib'd cats, met both by chance in the dark in an old garret.” So, in Bulwer's Artificial Changeling, 1653: “Some in mania or melancholy madness have attempted the same, not without success, although they have remained somewhat melancholy like gib'd cats.” I believe after all, a gib'd cat is a cat who has been qualified for the seraglio; for all animals so mutilated, become drowsy and melancholy. To glib has certainly that meaning. So, in The Winter's Tale, Act III. Sc. I.: “And I had rather glib myself than they “Should not produce fair issue.” In Sidney's Arcadia, however, the same quality in a cat is mentioned, without any reference to the consequences of castration: “The hare, her sleights; the cat, his melancholy.” Steevens. Sherwood's English Dictionary at the end of Cotgrave's French one, says: “Gibbe is an old he cat.” Aged animals are not so playful as those which are young; and glib'd or gelded ones are duller than others. So we might read: “&lblank; as melancholy as a gib cat, or a glib'd cat.” Tollet. The melancholy of a cat is spoken of generally in Lilly's Midas: “Pet. How now, Motto, all amort? “Mot. I am as melancholy as a cat.” Gib was applied to any cat, whether male or female. So, in Gamer Gurton's Nedle: “Gib (a fowle feind might on her light) lickt the milke pan so clene.” So, in Edward the First, by G. Peele: “Now, maister, as I am true wag, “I will be neither late nor lag, “But goe, and come with gossip's cheare, “E'er Gib our cat can lick her eare.” So, in The Scornful Lady: “&lblank; Bring out the cat-hounds. “I'll make you take a tree, whore; then, with my tiller, “Bring down your gibship.” Boswell.

Note return to page 442 8&lblank; Lincolnshire bagpipe.] “Lincolnshire bagpipes” is a proverbial saying. Fuller has not attempted to explain it; and Ray only conjectures that the Lincolnshire people may be fonder of this instrument than others. Douce. I suspect, that by the “drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe,” is meant the dull croak of a frog, one of the native musicians of that waterish county. As a vigorous support to my explanation, I am informed by Sir Joseph Banks, that in the neighbourhood of Boston in Lincolnshire, the noisy frogs are still humorously denominated “the Boston waits.”—In The Pleasaunt and Stately Morall of Three Lordes and Three Ladies of London, 1590, 4to. bl. l. there is mention of “The sweete ballade of The Lincolnshire Bagpipes.” Steevens. Lincolnshire bagpipes are thus mentioned in A Nest of Ninnies, by Robert Armin, 1608: “At a Christmas time, when great logs furnish the hall fire: when brawne is in season, and indeed all reveling is regarded: this gallant knight kept open house for all commers, where beefe, beere, and bread was no niggard. Amongst all the pleasures provided, a noyse of Minstrells and a Lincolnshire bagpipe was prepared: the minstrells for the great chamber, the bagpipe for the hall; the minstrels to serve up the knights meate, and the bagpipe for the common dauncing.” Boswell.

Note return to page 443 9&lblank; a hare,] A hare may be considered as melancholy, because she is upon her form always solitary; and, according to the physick of the times, the flesh of it was supposed to generate melancholy. Johnson. The following passage in Vittoria Corombona, &c. 1612, may prove the best explanation: “&lblank; like your melancholy hare, “Feed after midnight.” Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, song the second: “The melancholy hare is form'd in brakes and briers.” The Egyptians in their Hieroglyphics expressed a melancholy man by a hare sitting in her form. See Pierii Hieroglyph. lib. xii. Steevens.

Note return to page 444 1&lblank; the melancholy of Moor-ditch?] It appears from Stowe's Survey, that a broad ditch, called Deep-ditch, formerly parted the Hospital from Moor-fields; and what has a more melancholy appearance than stagnant water? This ditch is also mentioned in The Gul's Hornbook, by Decker, 1609: “&lblank; it will be a sorer labour than the cleansing of Augeas' stable, or the scowring of Moor-ditch.” Again, in Newes from Hell, brought by the Divel's Carrier, by Thomas Decker, 1606: “As touching the river, looke how Moor-ditch shews when the water is three quarters dreyn'd out, and by reason the stomacke of it is overladen, is ready to fall to casting. So does that; it stinks almost worse, is almost as poysonous, altogether so muddy, altogether so black.” Steevens. So, in Taylor's Pennylesse Pilgrimage, quarto, 1618: “&lblank; my body being tired with travel, and my mind attired with moody, muddy, Moore-ditch melancholy.” Malone. Moor-ditch, a part of the ditch surrounding the city of London, between Bishopsgate and Cripplegate, opened to an unwholesome and impassable morass, and consequently not frequented by the citizens, like other suburbial fields which were remarkably pleasant, and the fashionable places of resort. T. Warton.

Note return to page 445 3&lblank; similes;] Old copies—smiles. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 446 4&lblank; the most comparative,] Sir T. Hanmer, and Dr. Warburton after him, read—incomparative, I suppose for incomparable, or peerless; but comparative here means quick at comparisons, or fruitful in similes, and is properly introduced. Johnson. This epithet is used again, in Act III. Sc. II. of this play, and apparently in the same sense: “&lblank; stand the push “Of every beardless vain comparative.” And in Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. Sc. ult. Rosalind tells Biron that he is a man “Full of comparisons and wounding flouts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 447 5I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought:] So, in The Discoverie of the Knights of the Poste, 1597, sign. C: “In troth they live so so, and it were well if they knew where a commoditie of names were to be sould, and yet I thinke all the money in their purses could not buy it.” Reed.

Note return to page 448 6&lblank; wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.] This is a scriptural expression: “Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth her voice in the streets.—I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded.” Proverbs, i. 20, and 24. Holt White.

Note return to page 449 7O, thou hast damnable iteration;] For iteration Sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Warburton read—attraction, of which the meaning is certainly more apparent; but an editor is not always to change what he does not understand. In the last speech a text is very indecently and abusively applied, to which Falstaff answers, “thou hast damnable iteration,” or a wicked trick of repeating and applying holy texts. This, I think, is the meaning. Johnson. Iteration is right, for it also signified simply citation or recitation. So, in Marlow's Doctor Faustus, 1631: “Here take this book, and peruse it well, “The iterating of these lines brings gold.” From the context, iterating here appears to mean pronouncing, reciting. Again, in Camden's Remaines, 1614: “King Edward I. disliking the iteration of Fitz,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 450 8&lblank; and baffle me.] See Mr. Tollet's note on King Richard II. p. 16, n. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 451 9&lblank; no sin for a man to labour in his vocation,] This (as Dr. Farmer observes to me,) is undoubtedly a sneer on Agremont Radcliffe's Politique Discourses, 1578. From the beginning to the end of this work, the word vocation occurs in almost every paragraph. Thus chap. i.: “That the vocation of men hath been a thing unknown unto philosophers, and other that have treated of Politique Government; of the commoditie that cometh by the knowledge thereof; and the etymology and definition of this worde vocation.” Again, chap. xxv.: “Whether a man being disorderly and unduly entered into any vocation, may lawfully brooke and abide in the same; and whether the administration in the meane while done by him that is unduly entered, ought to holde, or be of force.” Steevens.

Note return to page 452 1&lblank; have set a match.] Thus the quarto. So, in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, 1614: “Peace, sir, they'll be angry if they hear you eves-dropping, now they are setting their match.” There it seems to mean making an appointment.—The folio reads —set a watch. Malone. As no watch is afterwards set, I suppose match to be the true reading. So, as Dr. Farmer observed, in Ratsey's (Gamaliel) Ghost, bl. l. 4to. (no date) about 1605: “I have,” says he, “been many times beholding to Tapsters and Chamberlaines for directions and setting of matches.” Steevens.

Note return to page 453 2&lblank; sir John Sack-and-Sugar?] Hentzner, p. 88, edit. 1757, speaking of the manners of the English, says, “in potum copiosè immittunt saccarum;” they put a great deal of sugar in their drink. Reed. Much inquiry has been made about Falstaff's sack, and great surprize has been expressed that he should have mixed sugar with it. As they are here mentioned for the first time in this play, it may not be improper to observe, that it is probable that Falstaff's wine was Sherry, a Spanish wine, originally made at Xeres. He frequently himself calls it Sherris-sack* [Subnote: *Sherris is possibly a corruption from Zeres.] . Nor will his mixing sugar with sack appear extraordinary, when it is known that it was a very common practice in our author's time to put sugar into all wines. “Clownes and vulgar men (says Fynes Moryson) only use large drinking of beere or ale,—but gentlemen garrawse only in wine, with which they mix sugar, which I never observed in any other place or kingdom to be used for that purpose. And because the taste of the English is thus delighted with sweetness, the wines in taverns (for I speak not of merchantes' or gentlemen's cellers) are commonly mixed at the filling thereof, to make them pleasant.” Itin. 1617, Part III. p. 152. See also Mr. Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, vol. iv. p. 308: “Among the orders of the royal household in 1604 is the following: [MSS. Harl. 392, fol. 162.] ‘And whereas in tymes past, Spanish wines, called Sacke, were little or no whitt used in our courte,—we now understanding that it is now used in common drink,’ &c. Sack was, I believe, often mulled in our author's time. See a note, post, on the words, “If sack and sugar be a sin,” &c. See also Blount's Glossography: “Mulled Sack, (Vinum mollitum) because softened and made mild by burning, and a mixture of sugar.” Since this note was written, I have found reason to believe that Falstaff's Sack was the dry Spanish wine which we call Mountain Malaga. A passage in Via Recta ad Vitam Longam, by Thomas Venner, Dr. of Physicke in Bathe, 4to. 1622, seems to ascertain this: “Sacke is completely hot in the third degree, and of thin parts, and therefore it doth vehemently and quickly heat the body. —Some affect to drink sack with sugar, and some without, and upon no other grounds, as I thinke, but as it is best pleasing to their palates. I will speake what I deeme thereof.—Sack, taken by itself, is very hot and very penetrative; being taken with sugar, the heat is both somewhat allayed, and the penetrative quality thereof also retarded.” The author afterwards thus speaks of the wine which we now denominate Sack, and which was then called Canary: “Canarie-wine, which beareth the name of the islands from whence it is brought, is of some termed a sacke, with this adjunct, sweete; but yet very improperly, for it differeth not only from sacke in sweetness and pleasantness of taste, but also in colour and consistence, for it is not so white in colour as sack, nor so thin in substance; wherefore it is more nutritive than sack, and less penetrative. —White wine, Rhenish wine, &c.—do in six or seven moneths, or within, according to the smallness of them, attaine unto the height of their goodness, especially the smaller sort of them. But the stronger sort of wines, as sack, muskadell, malmsey, are best when they are two or three years old.” From hence, therefore, it is clear, that the wine usually called sack in that age was thinner than Canary, and was a strong light-coloured dry wine; vin sec; and that it was a Spanish wine is ascertained by the order quoted by Mr. Tyrwhitt, and by several ancient books. Cole, in his Dict. 1679, renders sack by Vinum Hispanicum; and Sherwood in his English and French Dict. 1650, by Vin d'Espagne. Malone.

Note return to page 454 3&lblank; if thou darest not stand, &c.] The modern reading [cry stand] may perhaps be right; but I think it necessary to remark, that all the old editions read—“if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.” Johnson. Falstaff is quibbling on the word royal. The real or royal was of the value of ten shillings. Almost the same jest occurs in a subsequent scene. The quibble, however, is lost, except the old reading be preserved. Cry, stand, will not support it. Steevens.

Note return to page 455 4&lblank; thou latter spring!] Old copies—the latter. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 456 5&lblank; All-hallown summer!] All-hallows, is All-hallown-tide, or All-saints' day, which is the first of November. We have still a church in London, which is absurdly styled St. All-hallows, as if a word which was formed to express the community of saints, could be appropriated to any particular one of the number. In the Play of the Four P's, 1569, this mistake (which might have been a common one,) is pleasantly exposed: “Pard. Friends, here you shall see, even anone, “Of All-hallows the blessed jaw-bone, “Kiss it hardly, with good devotion,” &c. The characters in this scene are striving who should produce the greatest falsehood, and very probably in their attempts to excel each other, have out-lied even the Romish Kalendar. Shakspeare's allusion is designed to ridicule an old man with youthful passions. So, in the second part of this play: “&lblank; the Martlemas your master.” Steevens.

Note return to page 457 6Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill,] In former editions —Falstaff, Harvey, Rossil, and Gadshill. Thus have we two persons named, as characters in this play, that were never among the dramatis personæ. But let us see who they were that committed this robbery. In the second Act we come to a scene of the highway. Falstaff, wanting his horse, calls out on Hal, Poins, Bardolph, and Peto. Presently Gadshill joins them, with intelligence of travellers being at hand; upon which the Prince says,—“You four shall front 'em in a narrow lane, Ned Poins and I will walk lower.” So that the four to be concerned are Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill. Accordingly, the robbery is comitted; and the Prince and Poins afterwards rob them four. In the Boar's-Head tavern, the Prince rallies Peto and Bardolph for their running away, who confess the charge. Is it not plain now that Bardolph and Peto were two of the four robbers? And who then can doubt, but Harvey and Rossil were the names of the actors? Theobald.

Note return to page 458 7&lblank; sirrah,] Sirrah, in our author's time, as appears from this and many other passages, was not always a word of disrespect. See vol. xi. p. 212, n. 5. Malone. It is scarcely used as a term of respect, when addressed by the king to Hotspur, p. 218. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 8&lblank; for the nonce,] That is, as I conceive, for the occasion. This phrase, which was very frequently, though not always very precisely, used by our old writers, I suppose to have been originally a corruption of corrupt Latin. From pro-nunc, I suppose, came for the nunc, and so for the nonce; just as from ad-nunc came anon. The Spanish entonces has been formed in the same manner from in-tunc. Tyrwhitt. The nonce (says Sir David Dalrymple, Lord Hailes, in a letter to Mr. Malone) I understand to be the once; the letter n is inserted to prevent the elision: Mr. Gifford has given the same explanation, B. Jonson's Works, vol. iii. p. 218. For various other etymologies, see Todd's edition of Johnson's Dictionary. Possibly it may have been derived from nones or noon, a term which Johnson informs us our ancestors applied to their chief meal. We still say in low language, that a man comes in pudding-time, meaning opportunely. Boswell. “For the nonce” is an expression in daily use amongst the common people in Suffolk, to signify on purpose; for the turn. Henley.

Note return to page 460 9&lblank; reproof &lblank;] Reproof is confutation. Johnson.

Note return to page 461 1&lblank; to-morrow night &lblank;] I think we should read—to-night. The disguises were to be provided for the purpose of the robbery, which was to be committed at four in the morning; and they would come too late if the Prince was not to receive them till the night after the day of the exploit. This is a second instance to prove that Shakspeare could forget in the end of a scene what he had said in the beginning. Steevens.

Note return to page 462 2Who doth permit the base contagious clouds, &c.] So, in our author's 33d Sonnet: “Full many a glorious morning have I seen “Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, &lblank; “Anon permit the basest clouds to ride “With ugly rack on his celestial face.” Malone.

Note return to page 463 3&lblank; vapours, that did seem to strangle him.] So, in Macbeth: “And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 4If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,] So, in our author's 52d Sonnet: “Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, “Since seldom coming, in the long year set, “Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, “Or captain jewels in the crkanet.” Malone

Note return to page 465 5&lblank; shall I falsify men's hopes;] To falsify hope is to exceed hope, to give much where men hoped for little. This speech is very artfully introduced to keep the Prince from appearing vile in the opinion of the audience; it prepares them for his future reformation; and, what is yet more valuable, exhibits a natural picture of a great mind offering excuses to itself, and palliating those follies which it can neither justify nor forsake. Johnson. Hopes is used simply for expectations, as success is for the event, whether good or bad. This is still common in the midland counties. “Such manner of uncouth speech, (says Puttenham,) did the Tanner of Tamworth use to King Edward IV. which Tanner having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at length perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished for it, and said thus, with a certain rude repentance: ‘I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow,’ for ‘I fear me I shall be hanged;’ whereat the king laughed a-good; not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, but also to hear his misshapen terme; and gave him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumton Parke.” P. 214. Farmer. The following passage in The Second Part of King Henry IV. fully supports Dr. Farmer's interpretation. The Prince is there, as in the passage before us, the speaker: “My father is gone wild into his grave &lblank; “And with his spirit sadly I survive, “To mock the expectations of the world; “To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out “Rotten opinion, who hath written down “After my seeming.” Malone.

Note return to page 466 6&lblank; like bright metal on a sullen ground, &c.] So, in King Richard II.: “The sullen passage of thy weary steps “Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set “The precious jewel of thy home return.” Steevens.

Note return to page 467 7I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;] i. e. I will from henceforth rather put on the character that becomes me, and exert the resentment of an injured king, than still continue in the inactivity and mildness of my natural disposition. And this sentiment he has well expressed, save that by his usual licence, he puts the word condition for disposition. Warburton. The commentator has well explained the sense, which was not very difficult, but is mistaken in supposing the use of condition licentious. Shakspeare uses it very frequently for temper of mind, and in this sense the vulgar still say a good or ill-conditioned man. Johnson. So, in King Henry V. Act V.: “Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth.” Ben Jonson uses it in the same sense, in The New-Inn, Act I. Sc. VI.: “You cannot think me of that coarse condition, “To envy you any thing.” Steevens. So also all the contemporary writers. See vol. v. p. 27, n. 3, and many other passages in these plays. Malone.

Note return to page 468 8&lblank; I see danger &lblank;] Old copies—“I do see,” &c. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has created the necessity for omitting this word, by altering the arrangement of the old copies. He reads: “Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger “And disobedience in thine eye: O, sir, “Your presence is too bold and peremptory.” Boswell.

Note return to page 469 9And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow.] Frontier was anciently used for forehead. So Stubbs, in his Anatomy of Abuses, 1595: “Then on the edges of their bolstered hair, which standeth crested round their frontiers, and hanging over their faces,” &c. Steevens. “And majesty might never yet endure,” &c. So, in King Henry VIII.: “The hearts of princes kiss obedience, “So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits, “They swell and grow as terrible as storms.” Malone.

Note return to page 470 1You have good leave &lblank;] i. e. our ready assent. So, in King John: “Good leave, good Philip.” See n. 8, p. 217, vol. xv. Steevens.

Note return to page 471 2&lblank; at harvest home:] That is, a time of festivity. Johnson. If we understand harvest-home in the general sense of a time of festivity, we shall lose the most pointed circumstance of the comparison. A chin new shaven is compared to a stubble-land at harvest-home, not on account of the festivity of that season, as I apprehend, but because at that time, when the corn has been but just carried in, the stubble appears more even and upright, than at any other. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 472 3A pouncet-box,] A small box for musk or other perfumes then in fashion: the lid of which, being cut with open work, gave it its name; from poinsoner, to prick, pierce, or engrave. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's explanation is just. At the christening of Queen Elizabeth, the Marchioness of Dorset gave, according to Holinshed, “three gilt bowls pounced, with a cover.” So also, in Gawin Douglas's translation of the ninth Æneid: “&lblank; wroght rich curiously “With figuris grave, and punsit ymagery,” Steevens.

Note return to page 473 4Took it in snuff:] Snuff is equivocally used for anger, and a powder taken up the nose. So, in The Fleire, a comedy, by E. Sharpham, 1610: “Nay be not angry; I do not touch thy nose, to the end it should take any thing in snuff.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix: “&lblank; 'tis enough, “Having so much fool, to take him in snuff.” And here they are talking about tobacco. Again, in Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606: “The good wife glad that he took the matter so in snuff,” &c. Steevens. See vol. v. p. 326, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 474 5With many holiday and lady terms &lblank;] So, in A Looking Glass for London and England, 1598: “These be but holiday terms, but if you heard her working day words &lblank;.” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; he speaks holiday.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 6I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay,] But in the beginning of the speech he represents himself at this time not as cold but hot, and inflamed with rage and labour: “When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,” &c. I am therefore persuaded that Shakspeare wrote and pointed it thus: “I then all smarting with my wounds; being gall'd “To be so pester'd with a popinjay,” &c. Warburton. Whatever Percy might say of his rage and toil, which is merely declamatory and apologetical, his wounds would at this time be certainly cold, and when they were cold would smart, and not before. If any alteration were necessary, I should transpose the lines: “I then all smarting with my wounds being cold, “Out of my grief, and my impatience, “To be so pester'd with a popinjay, “Answer'd neglectingly.” A popinjay is a parrot. Johnson. The same transposition had been proposed by Mr. Edwards. In John Alday's Summarie of Secret Wonders, &c. bl. l. no date, we are told that “The popingay can speake humaine speach, they come from the Indias,” &c. From the following passage in The Northern Lass, 1632, it should seem, however, that a popinjay and a parrot were distinct birds: “Is this a parrot or a popinjay?” Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; the parrot, the popinjay, Philip-sparrow, and the cuckow.” In the ancient poem called The Parliament of Birds, bl. l. this bird is called “the popynge jay of paradyse.” Steevens. It appears from Minsheu that Dr. Johnson is right. See his Dict. 1617, in v. Parret. Malone. The old reading may be supported by the following passage in Barnes's History of Edward III. p. 786: “The esquire fought still, until the wounds began with loss of blood to cool and smart.” Tollet. So, in Mortimeriados, by Michael Drayton, 4to. 1596: “As when the blood is cold, we feel the wound &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 476 7&lblank; grief &lblank;] i. e. pain. In our ancient translations of physical treatises, dolor ventris is commonly called belly-grief. Steevens.

Note return to page 477 8&lblank; parmaceti,] So the old editions. Some modern editors have altered it to spermaceti. Sir Richard Hawkins, in his Voyage into the South Sea, 1593, speaking of whales, says, “&lblank; his spawne is for divers purposes. This we corruptly call parmacettie, of the Latin word Sperma Ceti.” p. 46. Reed.

Note return to page 478 9&lblank; parmaceti, for an inward bruise;] So, in Sir T. Overbury's Characters, 1616: “[An Ordinary Fencer.] His wounds are seldom skin-deepe; for an inward bruise lambstones and sweetebreads are his only spermaceti.” Bowle.

Note return to page 479 1&lblank; but for these vile guns, &c.] A similar thought occurs in Questions of Profitable and Pleasant Concernings, &c. 1594, p. 11: “I confesse those gunnes are diuellish things, and make many men runne away that other wayes would not turne their heads.” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 2To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now.] Let what he then said never rise to impeach him, so he unsay it now. Johnson.

Note return to page 481 3His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;] Shakspeare has fallen into some contradictions with regard to this Lord Mortimer. Before he makes his personal appearance in the play, he is repeatedly spoken of as Hotspur's brother-in-law. In Act II. Lady Percy expressly calls him her brother Mortimer. And yet when he enters in the third Act, he calls Lady Percy his aunt, which in fact she was, and not his sister. This inconsistence may be accounted for as follows. It appears both from Dugdale's and Sandford's account of the Mortimer family, that there were two of them taken prisoners at different times by Glendower; each of them bearing the name of Edmund; one being Edmund Earl of March, nephew to Lady Percy, and the proper Mortimer of this play; the other, Sir Edmund Mortimer, uncle to the former, and brother to Lady Percy. Shakspeare confounds the two persons. Steevens. Another cause also may be assigned for this confusion. Henry Percy, according to the accounts of some of our old historians, married Eleanor, the sister of Roger Earl of March, who was the father of the Edmund Earl of March, that appears in the present play. But this Edmund had a sister likewise named Eleanor. Shakspeare might, therefore, have at different times confounded these two supposed Eleanors. I say supposed, for in fact, the sister of Robert Earl of March, whom young Percy married, was called Elizabeth, as we learn from Hardyng, who was a contemporary. Malone. See my note of Act II. Sc. III. where this Lady is called—Kate. Steevens.

Note return to page 482 4&lblank; and indent with fears,] The reason why he says, bargain and article with fears, meaning with Mortimer, is, because he supposed Mortimer had wilfully betrayed his own forces to Glendower out of fear, as appears from his next speech. Warburton. The difficulty seems to me to arise from this, that the King is not desired to article or contract with Mortimer, but with another for Mortimer. Perhaps we may read: “Shall we buy treason? and indent with peers, “When they have lost and forfeited themselves?” Shall we purchase back a traitor? Shall we descend to a composition with Worcester, Northumberland, and young Percy, who by disobedience have lost and forfeited their honours and themselves? Johnson. To “indent,” is to ‘sign an indenture or compact.’ Malone. “Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,” This verb is used by Harrington in his translation of Ariosto, b. xvi. st. 35: “And with the Irish bands he first indents, “To spoil their lodgings and to burn their tents.” Again, in The Cruel Brother, by Sir W. D'Avenant, 1630: “&lblank; Dost thou indent “With my acceptance, make choice of services?” Fears may be used in the active sense for terrors. So, in the second part of this play: “&lblank; all those bold fears “Thou seest with peril I have answered.” These lords, however, had, as yet, neither forfeited or lost any thing, so that Dr. Johnson's conjecture is inadmissible. After all, I am inclined to regard Mortimer (though the King affects to speak of him in the plural number) as the Fear, or timid object, which had lost or forfeited itself. Henry afterwards says: “&lblank; he durst as well have met the devil alone, “As Owen Glendower for an enemy.” “Indent with fears,” may therefore mean, ‘sign an indenture or compact with dastards.’ Fears may be substituted for fearful people, as wrongs has been used for wrongers in King Richard II.: “He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, “To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to a bay.” “Near Cæsar's angel (says the Soothsayer to Antony,) thy own becomes a fear,” i. e. a spirit of cowardice; and Sir Richard Vernon, in the play before us, uses an expression that nearly resembles indenting with fears: “I hold as little counsel with weak fear, “As you, my lord &lblank;.” The King, by buying treason, and indenting with fears, may therefore covertly repeat both his pretended charges against Mortimer; first, that he had treasonably betrayed his party to Glendower; and, secondly, that he would have been afraid to encounter with so brave an adversary. Steevens.

Note return to page 483 5He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war;] The meaning is, he came not into the enemy's power, but by the chance of war. The King charged Mortimer, that he wilfully betrayed his army, and, as he was then with the enemy, calls him revolted Mortimer. Hotspur replies, that he never fell off, that is, fell into Glendower's hands, but by the chance of war. I should not have explained thus tediously a passage so hard to be mistaken, but that two editors have already mistaken it. Johnson.

Note return to page 484 6&lblank; To prove that true, Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, &c.] Hotspur calls Mortimer's wounds mouthed, from their gaping like a mouth, and says, that to prove his loyalty, but one tongue was necessary for all these mouths. This may be harsh; but the same idea occurs in Coriolanus, where one of the populace says: “For if he shows us his wounds, we are to put our tongues into these wounds, and speak for them.” M. Mason. So, Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; there were an Antony, “Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue “In every wound of Cæsar,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 485 7&lblank; hardiment &lblank;] An obsolete word, signifying hardiness, bravery, stoutness. Spenser is frequent in his use of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 486 8&lblank; three times did they drink,] It is the property of wounds to excite the most impatient thirst. The poet therefore hath with exquisite propriety introduced this circumstance, which may serve to place in its proper light the dying kindness of Sir Philip Sydney; who, though suffering the extremity of thirst from the agony of his own wounds, yet, notwithstanding, gave up his own draught of water to a wounded soldier. Henley.

Note return to page 487 9Who then, affrighted, &c.] This passage has been censured as sounding nonsense, which represents a stream of water as capable of fear. It is misunderstood. Severn is here not the flood, but the tutelary power of the flood, who was affrighted, and hid his head in the hollow bank. Johnson.

Note return to page 488 1&lblank; his crisp head &lblank;] Crisp is curled. So, Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Maid of the Mill: “&lblank; methinks the river, “As he steals by, curls up his head to view.” Again, in Kyd's Cornelia, 1595: “O beauteous Tyber, with thine easy streams, “That glide as smoothly as a Parthian shaft, “Turn not thy crispy tides, like silver curls, “Back to thy grass-green banks to welcome us?” Perhaps Shakspeare has bestowed an epithet, applicable only to the stream of water, on the genius of the stream. The following passage, however, in the sixth song of Drayton's Polyolbion, may seem to justify its propriety: “Your corses were dissolv'd into that chrystal stream; “Your curls to curled waves, which plainly still appear “The same in water now that once in locks they were.” Beaumont and Fletcher have the same image with Shakspeare in The Loyal Subject: “&lblank; the Volga trembled at his terror, “And hid his seven curl'd heads.” Again, in one of Ben Jonson's Masques: “The rivers run as smoothed by his hand, “Only their heads are crisped by his stroke.” See vol. vi. (Whalley's edit.) p. 26. Steevens.

Note return to page 489 2Never did bare and rotten policy &lblank;] All the quartos which I have seen read bare in this place. The first folio, and all the subsequent editions, have base. I believe bare is right: “Never did policy, lying open to detection, so colour its workings.” Johnson. The first quarto, 1598, reads bare; which means ‘so thinly covered by art as to be easily seen through.’ So, in Venus and Adonis: “What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone!” Malone. Since there is such good authority as Johnson informs us, for reading base, in this passage, instead of bare, the former word should certainly be adopted. Bare policy, that is, policy lying open to detection, is in truth no policy at all. The epithet base, also best agrees with rotten. M. Mason.

Note return to page 490 2Art not &lblank;] Old copies—“Art thou not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 491 3&lblank; an eye of death,] That is, an eye menacing death. Hotspur seems to describe the King as trembling with rage rather than fear. Johnson. So, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590: “And wrapt in silence of his angry soul, “Upon his brows were pourtraid ugly death, “And in his eyes the furies of his heart.” Steevens. Johnson and Steevens seem to think that Hotspur meant to describe the King as trembling not with fear, but rage; but surely they are mistaken. The King had no reason to be enraged at Mortimer, who had been taken prisoner in fighting against his enemy; but he had much reason to fear the man who had a better title to the crown than himself, which had been proclaimed by Richard II.; and accordingly, when Hotspur is informed of that circumstance, he says: “Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king “That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd.” And Worcester, in the very next line, says: “He cannot blame him for trembling at the name of Mortimer, since Richard had proclaimed him next of blood.” M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's remark is, I think, in general just; but the King, as appears from this scene, had some reason to be enraged also at Mortimer, because he thought that Mortimer had not been taken prisoner by the efforts of his enemies, but had himself revolted. Malone.

Note return to page 492 4&lblank; Was he not proclaim'd, By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?] Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, who was born in 1371, was declared heir apparent to the crown in the 9th year of King Richard II. (1385.) See Grafton, p. 347. But he was killed in Ireland in 1398. The person who was proclaimed by Richard heir apparent to the crown, previous to his last voyage to Ireland, was Edmund Mortimer, (the son of Roger,) who was then but seven years old; but he was not Percy's wife's brother, but her nephew. Malone.

Note return to page 493 5Heir to the crown?] Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, was the undoubted heir to the crown after the death of Richard, as appears from the following table; in which the three younger children of King Edward III. are not included, as being immaterial to the subject before us: Sandford, in his Genealogical History, says, that the last mentioned Edmund, Earl of March, (the Mortimer of this play,) was married to Anne Stafford, daughter of Edmund, Earl of Stafford. Thomas Walsingham asserts that he married a daughter of Owen Glendower; and the subsequent historians copied him; but this is a very doubtful point, for the Welsh writers make no mention of it. Sandford says that this Earl of March was confined by the jealous Henry in the castle of Trim in Ireland, and that he died there, after an imprisonment of twenty years, on the 19th of January, 1424. But this is a mistake. There is no proof that he was confined a state-prisoner by King Henry the Fourth, and he was employed in many military services by his son Henry the Fifth. He died at his own castle at Trim in Ireland, at the time mentioned by Sandford, but not in a state of imprisonment. See note on King Henry VI. Part II. Act II. Sc. II. Since the original note was written, I have learned that Owen Glendower's daughter was married to his antagonist Lord Grey of Ruthven. Holinshed led Shakspeare into the error of supposing her the wife of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. This nobleman, who is the Mortimer of the present play, was born in November, 1392, and consequently at the time when this play commences, was little more than ten years old. The Prince of Wales was not fifteen. Malone.

Note return to page 494 6&lblank; this canker, Bolingbroke?] The canker-rose is the dog-rose, the flower of the Cynosbaton. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 495 7&lblank; disdain'd &lblank;] For disdainful. Johnson.

Note return to page 496 8On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.] That is, of a spear laid across. Warburton.

Note return to page 497 9&lblank; sink or swim:] This is a very ancient proverbial expression. So, in The Knight's Tale of Chaucer, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 2399: “Ne recceth never, whether I sink or flete.” Again, in The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art, 1570: “He careth not who doth sink or swimme.” Steevens.

Note return to page 498 1&lblank; the blood more stirs, To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.] This passage will remind the classical reader of young Ascanius's heroic feelings in the fourth Æneid: &lblank; pecora inter inertia votis Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem. Steevens.

Note return to page 499 2By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon;] Though I am very far from condemning this speech with Gildon and Theobald, as absolute madness, yet I cannot find in it that profundity of reflection, and beauty of allegory, which Dr. Warburton endeavoured to display. This sally of Hotspur, may be, I think, soberly and rationally vindicated as the violent eruption of a mind inflated with ambition, and fired with resentment; as the boasted clamour of a man able to do much, and eager to do more; as the hasty motion of turbulent desire; as the dark expression of indetermined thoughts. The passage from Euripides is surely not allegorical, yet it is produced, and properly, as parallel. Johnson. Euripides has put the very same sentiment into the mouth of Eteocles: “I will not, madam, disguise my thoughts; I would scale heaven, I would descend to the very entrails of the earth, if so be that by that price I could obtain a kingdom.” Warburton. This is probably a passage from some bombast play, and afterwards used as a common burlesque phrase for attempting impossibilities. At least, that it was the last, might be concluded from its use in Cartwright's poem On Mr. Stokes his Book on the Art of Vaulting, edit. 1651, p. 212: “Then go thy ways, brave Will, for one; “By Jove 'tis thou must leap, or none, “To pull bright honour from the moon.” Unless Cartwright intended to ridicule this passage in Shakspeare, which I partly suspect. Stokes's book, a noble object for the wits, was printed at London, 1641. T. Warton. A passage somewhat resembling this, occurs in Archbishop Parker's Address to the Reader, prefixed to his Tract entitled A Brief Examination for the Tyme, &c.—“But trueth is to hye set, for you to pluck her out of heaven, to manifestlye knowen to be by your papers obscured, and surely stablished, to drowne her in the myrie lakes of your sophisticall writinges.” In The Knight of the Burning Pestle, Beaumont and Fletcher have put the foregoing rant of Hotspur, into the mouth of Ralph the apprentice, who, like Bottom, appears to have been fond of acting parts to tear a cat in. I suppose a ridicule on Shakspeare was designed. Steevens.

Note return to page 500 3Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,] So, in The Tempest: “I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded.” Steevens.

Note return to page 501 4But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!] A coat is said to be faced, when part of it, as the sleeves or bosom, is covered with something finer or more splendid than the main substance. The mantua-makers still use the word. “Half-fac'd fellowship” is then ‘partnership but half-adorned, partnership which yet wants half the show of dignities and honours.’ Johnson. So, in The Portraiture of Hypocrisie, &c. bl. l. 1589: “A gentleman should have a gowne for the night, two for the daie, &c. one all furred, another half-faced.” Mr. M. Mason, however, observes, that the allusion may be to the half-faces on medals, where two persons are represented. “The coins of Philip and Mary (says he) rendered this image sufficiently familiar to Shakspeare.” Steevens. I doubt whether the allusion was to dress. Half-fac'd seems to have meant paltry. The expression, which appears to have been a contemptuous one, I believe, had its rise from the meaner denominations of coin, on which, formerly, only a profile of the reigning prince was exhibited; whereas on the more valuable pieces a full face was represented. So, in King John: “With that half-face would he have all my land,— “A half-fac'd groat, five hundred pound a year!” But then, it will be said, “what becomes of fellowship? Where is the fellowship in a single face in profile? The allusion must be to the coins of Philip and Mary, where two faces were in part exhibited.” —This squaring of our author's comparisons, and making them correspond precisely on every side, is in my apprehension the sourse of endless mistakes. Fellowship relates to Hotspur's “corrival” and himself, and I think to nothing more. I find the epithet here applied to it, in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 1593: “&lblank; with all other ends of your half-faced English.” Again, in Histriomastix, 1610: “Whilst I behold yon half-fac'd minion &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 502 5&lblank; a world of figures here,] Figure is here used equivocally. As it is applied to Hotspur's speech it is a rhetorical mode; as opposed to form, it means appearance or shape. Johnson. Figures mean shapes created by Hotspur's imagination; but not the form of what he should attend, viz. of what his uncle had to propose. Edwards.

Note return to page 503 6He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; &lblank; But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holla—Mortimer!] So Marlowe, in his King Edward II.:   “&lblank; and if he will not ransome him, “I'll thunder such a peale into his eares, “As never subject did unto his king.” Malone.

Note return to page 504 7&lblank; I solemnly defy,] One of the ancient senses of the verb, to defy, was to refuse. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I do defy thy commiseration.” Steevens.

Note return to page 505 8And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales,] A royster or turbulent fellow, that fought in taverns, or raised disorders in the streets, was called a Swash-buckler. In this sense sword-and-buckler is here used. Johnson. Stowe will keep us to the precise meaning of the epithet here given to the prince.—“This field, commonly called West-Smith-field, was for many years called Ruffians Hall, by reason it was the usual place of frayes and common fighting, during the time that sword and bucklers were in use. When every serving-man, from the base to the best, carried a buckler at his back, which hung by the hilt or pomel of his sword.” Henley. I have now before me (to confirm the justice of this remark) a poem entitled “Sword and Buckler, or Serving Man's Defence.” By William Bas, 1602. Steevens. “What weapons bear they?—Some sword and dagger, some sword and buckler.—What weapon is that buckler?—A clownish dastardly weapon, and not fit for a gentleman.” Florio's First Fruites, 1578. Malone.

Note return to page 506 9&lblank; poison'd with a pot of ale.] Dr. Grey supposes this to be said in allusion to Caxton's Account of King John's Death; (See Caxton's Fructus Temporum, 1515, fol. 62.) but I rather think it has reference to the low company (drinkers of ale) with whom the prince spent so much of his time in the meanest taverns. Steevens.

Note return to page 507 1Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool &lblank;] Thus the quarto 1598: and surely it affords a more obvious meaning than the folio, which reads:—wasp-tongued. That Shakspeare knew the sting of a wasp was not situated in its mouth, may be learned from the following passage in The Winter's Tale, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps.” Steevens. This reading is confirmed by Hotspur's reply: “Why look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, “Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear “Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.” M. Mason. The first quarto copies of several of these plays are in many respects much preferable to the folio, and in general I have paid the utmost attention to them. In the present instance, however, I think the transcriber's ear deceived him, and that the true reading is that of the second quarto, 1599, wasp-tongue, which I have adopted, not on the authority of that copy, (for it has none,) but because I believe it to have been the word used by the author. The folio was apparently printed from a later quarto; and the editor from ignorance of our author's phraseology changed wasp-tongue to wasp-tongued. There are other instances of the same unwarrantable alterations even in that valuable copy of our author's plays. The change, I say, was made from ignorance of Shakspeare's phraseology; for in King Richard III. we have—his venom-tooth, not venom'd tooth; your widow-dolour, not widow'd-dolour; and in another play,—parted with sugar-breath, not sugar'd breath; and many more instances of the same kind may be found. Thus, in this play,—smooth-tongue, not smooth-tongued. Again: “&lblank; stolen from my host at St. Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daintry.” [not red-nosed.] Again, in King Richard III.: “Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:” not light-footed. So also, in The Black Book, 4to. 1504: “&lblank; The spindle-shanke spyder, which showed like great leachers with little legs, went stealing over his head,” &c. In the last Act of The Second Part of King Henry IV. “blew-bottle-rogue” (the reading of the quarto,) is changed by the editor of the folio to “blew-bottled rogue,” as he here substituted wasp-tongued for wasp-tongue. Shakspeare certainly knew, as Mr. Steevens has observed, that the sting of a wasp lay in his tail; nor is there in my apprehension any thing couched under the epithet wasp-tongue, inconsistent with that knowledge. It means only, having a tongue as peevish and mischievous (if such terms may be applied to that instrument of the mind) as a wasp. Thus, in As You Like It, waspish is used without any particular reference to any action of a wasp, but merely as synonymous to peevish or fretful: “By the stern brow and waspish action “Which she did use as she was writing of it, “It bears an angry tenour.” In The Tempest, when Iris, speaking of Venus, says: “Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,” the meaning is perfectly clear; yet the objection that Shakspeare knew the sting of a wasp was in his tail, not in his head, might, I conceive, be made with equal force, there, as on the present occasion. Though this note has run out to an unreasonable length, I must add a passage in The Taming of the Shrew; which, while it shows that our author knew the sting of a wasp was really situated in its tail, proves at the same time that he thought it might with propriety be applied metaphorically to the tongue: “Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith you are too angry. “Cath. If I be be waspish, best beware my sting. “Pet. My remedy is then to pluck it out. “Cath. Ay, if the fool could find out where it lies. “Pet. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? “In his tail. “Cath. In his tongue. “Pet. Whose tongue? “Cath. Yours, if you talk of tails,” &c. This passage appears to me fully to justify the reading that I have chosen. Independent, however, of all authority, or reference to other passages, it is supported by the context here. A person stung by a wasp would not be very likely to claim all the talk to himself, as Hotspur is described to do, but rather in the agony of pain to implore the assistance of those about him; whereas “the wasp-tongue fool” may well be supposed to “break into a woman's mood,” and to listen “to no tongue but his own.” Mr. M. Mason thinks that the words afterwards used by Hotspur are decisively in favour of wasp-stung,—“Nettled and stung with pismires:” but Hotspur uses that expression to mark the poignancy of his own feelings; Northumberland uses the term wasp-tongue to denote the irritability of his son's temper, and the petulance of his language. Malone. I may seem to be overlaid by the foregoing note, but do not think myself defeated. The reader's patience, however, shall be no further exercised on the present occasion. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 2&lblank; what a candy deal of courtesy &lblank;] i. e. what a deal of candy courtesy. Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read— candy'd, without necessity. See also King Richard III.: “Grossly grew captive to his honey words:” not honey'd words. See the last note. Malone.

Note return to page 509 3&lblank; infant fortune came to age,] Alluding to what passed in King Richard, Act II. Sc. III. Johnson.

Note return to page 510 4&lblank; the devil take such cozeners!] The same jingle occurs in Two Tragedies in One, &c. 1601: “Come pretty cousin, cozened by grim death.” Again, in Monsieur Thomas, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; cousin, “Cozen thyself no more.” Again, in The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “To see my cousin cozen'd in this sort.” Steevens.

Note return to page 511 *Quarto omits, for.

Note return to page 512 5I speak not this in estimation,] Estimation, for conjecture. Warburton.

Note return to page 513 6&lblank; let'st slip,] To let slip, is to loose the greyhound. Johnson. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Lucentio slipp'd me, like his greyhound.” Steevens.

Note return to page 514 7&lblank; by raising of a head:] A head is a body of forces. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Making another head, to fight again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 515 8The king will always, &c.] This is a natural description of the state of mind between those that have conferred, and those that have received obligations too great to be satisfied. That this would be the event of Northumberland's disloyalty, was predicted by King Richard in the former play. Johnson.

Note return to page 516 9Cousin,] This was a common address in our author's time to nephews, nieces, and grandchildren. See Holinshed's Chronicle, passim. Hotspur was Worcester's nephew. Malone.

Note return to page 517 1&lblank; Charles' wain &lblank;] Charles's wain is the vulgar name given to the constellation called the Bear. It is a corruption of the Chorles or Churls wain (Sax. ceorl, a countryman.) Ritson. See also Thoresby's Leeds, p. 268. Reed. Chorl is frequently used for a countryman in old books. “Here begynneth the chorle and the byrde,” printed for Wynkyn de Worde. See also the Glossaries of Skinner and Junius, v. Churl. Douce.

Note return to page 518 2&lblank; Cut's saddle,] Cut is the name of a horse in The Witches of Lancashire, 1634, and, I suppose, was a common one. Steevens. See vol. xi. p. 401, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 519 3&lblank; out of all cess.] i. e. out of all measure: the phrase being taken from a cess, tax, or subsidy; which being by regular and moderate rates, when any thing was exorbitant, or out of measure, it was said to be out of all cess. Warburton.

Note return to page 520 4&lblank; as dank &lblank;] i. e. wet, rotten. Pope. In the directions given by Sir Thomas Bodley, for the preservation of his library, he orders that the cleanser thereof should, “at least twice a quarter, with clean cloths, strike away the dust and moulding of the books, which will not then continue long with it; now it proceedeth chiefly of the newness of the forrels, which in time will be less and less dankish.” Reliquiæ Bodleianæ, p. 111. Reed.

Note return to page 521 5&lblank; bots:] Are worms in the stomach of a horse. Johnson. “The bottes is an yll disease, and they lye in a horse mawe; and they be an inch long, white coloured, and a reed heed, and as moche as a fyngers ende; and they be quycke and stycke faste in the mawe syde: it apperethe by stampynge of the horse or tomblynge; and in the beginninge there is remedy ynoughe; and if they be not cured betyme, they will eate thorough his mawe and kyll hym.” Fitzherbert's Book of Husbandry. Reed. “A bots light upon you,” is an imprecation frequently repeated in the anonymous play of King Henry V. as well as in many other old pieces. So, in the ancient black letter interlude of The Disobedient Child, no date: “That I wished their bellies full of bottes.” In Reginald Scott, on Witchcraft, 1584, is “a charme for the bots in a horse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 522 6&lblank; I am stung like a tench.] Why like a tench? I know not, unless the similitude consists in the spots of the tench, and those made by the bite of vermin. Malone. I have either read, or been told, that it was once customary to pack such pond-fish as were brought alive to market, in stinging nettles. But writing from recollection, and having no proof of this usage to offer, I do not press my intelligence on the publick. It appears, however, from the following passage in Philemon Holland's Translation of Pliny's Natural History, book ix. ch. xlvii. that anciently fishes were supposed to be infested by fleas: “In summe, what is there not bred within the sea? Even the verie fleas that skip so merrily in summer time within victualling houses and innes, and bite so shrowdly: as also lice that love best to live close under the haire of our heads, are there engendred and to be found: for many a time the fishers twitch up their hookes, and see a number of these skippers and creepers settled thick about their baits which they laid for fishes. And this vermin is thought to trouble the poore fishes in their sleep by night within the sea, as well as us on land.” Dr. Farmer supposes that “stung like a tench,” may be a blunder for “like a trout.” See, says he, the representation of a trout in Walton's Complete Angler, ch. v. Steevens.

Note return to page 523 7&lblank; breeds fleas like a loach.] The loach is a very small fish, but so exceedingly prolifick, that it is seldom found without spawn in it; and it was formerly a practice of the young gallants to swallow loaches in wine, because they were considered as invigorating, and apt to communicate their prolifick quality. The carrier therefore means to say, that “your chamber-lie breeds fleas as fast as a loach” breeds, not fleas, but loaches. In As You Like It, Jaques says that he “can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs;” but he does not mean that a weasel sucks eggs “out of a song.”—And in Troilus and Cressida, where Nestor says that Thersites is— “A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,” he means that his gall coined slanders as fast as a mint coins money. M. Mason. A passage in Coriolanus likewise may be produced in support of the interpretation here given: “&lblank; and he no more remembers his mother, than an eight-year-old horse;” i. e. than an eight-year-old horse remembers his dam. I entirely agree with Mr. M. Mason in his explanation of this passage, and, before I had seen his Comments, had in the same manner interpreted a passage in As You Like It. See vol. vi. p. 418, n. 4. One principal source of error in the interpretation of many passages in our author's plays has been the supposing that his similes were intended to correspond exactly on both sides. Malone. I fear the foregoing ingenious explanation must give way to the circumstance recorded in the ninth book of Pliny's Natural History, ch. xlvii. referred to by me in a note on this passage in the edition of 1785, omitted in the last, but now quoted at length by Mr. Steevens in the present. Again: “Last of all, some fishes there be which of themselves are given to breed fleas and lice; among which the chalcis, a kind of turgot, is one.” Reed.

Note return to page 524 8&lblank; and two razes of ginger,] As our author in several passages mentions a race of ginger, I thought proper to distinguish it from the raze mentioned here. The former signifies no more than a single root of it; but a raze is the Indian term for a bale of it. Theobald. “&lblank; and two razes of ginger.” So, in the old anonymous play of Henry V.: “&lblank; he hath taken the great raze of ginger, that bouncing Bess, &c. was to have had.” A dainty race of ginger is mentioned in Ben Jonson's Masque of The Gipsies Metamorphosed. The late Mr. Warner observed to me, that a single root or race of ginger, were it brought home entire, as it might formerly have been, and not in small pieces, as at present, would have been sufficient to load a pack-horse. He quoted Sir Hans Sloane's Introduction to his History of Jamaica, in support of his assertion; and added “that he could discover no authority for the word raze in the sense appropriated to it by Theobald.” A race of ginger is a phrase that seems familiar among our comick writers. So, in A Looking-Glass for London and England, 1598: “I have spent eleven pence, besides three rases of ginger.” —“Here's two rases more.” Steevens. Dr. Grew speaks, in The Philosophical Transactions, of a single root of ginger weighing fourteen ounces, as uncommonly large. I doubt, therefore, concerning the truth of Mr. Warner's assertion. Theobald's explantion seems equally disputable. Malone. See Hackluyt's Voyages, vol. iii. p. 493. Steevens.

Note return to page 525 9&lblank; the turkies in my pannier are quite starved.] Here is a slight anachronism. Turkies were not brought into England till the time of King Henry VIII. Malone.

Note return to page 526 1&lblank; Gadshill.] This thief receives his title from a place on the Kentish road, where many robberies have been committed. So, in Westward Hoe, 1606: “&lblank; Why, how lies she? “Troth, as the way lies over Gads-hill, very dangerous.” Again, in the anonymous play of The famous Victories of Henry the Fifth: “And I know thee for a taking fellow “Upon Gads-hill in Kent.” In the year 1558, a ballad entitled The Robbery at Gadshill was entered on the books of the Stationer's Company. Steevens.

Note return to page 527 2I think it be two o'clock.] The carrier, who suspected Gadshill, strives to mislead him as to the hour; because the first observation made in this scene is, that it was four o'clock. Steevens. See notes at the end of this play. Boswell.

Note return to page 528 3Ay, when? canst tell?] This is a proverbial phrase. So, in The Comedy of Errors, Act III. Sc. I.: “Dro. E. Have at you with a proverb, &c. “Luce. Have at you with another; that's—When? can you tell?” Steevens.

Note return to page 529 4At hand, quoth pick-purse.] This is a proverbial expression often used by Green, Nashe, and other writers of the time, in whose works the cant of low conversation is preserved. Again, in the play of Apius and Virginia, 1575, Haphazard, the vice, says: “At hand, quoth pick purse, here redy am I, “See well to the cutpurse, be ruled by me.” Again, as Mr. Malone observes, in The Duchess of Suffolk, by Tho. Drue, (but hitherto ascribed to Heywood,) 1631: “At hand, quoth pickpurse—have you any work for a tyler?” Steevens. This proverbial saying probably arose from the pick-purse always seizing upon the prey nearest him. Malone.

Note return to page 530 5That's even as fair as—at hand, quoth the chamberlain: for thou variest no more, &c.] So, in The Life and Death of Gamaliel Ratsey, 1605: “&lblank; he dealt with the chamberlaine of the house to learne which way they rode in the morning, which the chamberlaine performed accordingly, and that with great care and diligence, for he knew he should partake of their fortunes, if they sped.” Steevens.

Note return to page 531 6&lblank; franklin &lblank;] Is a little gentleman. Johnson. Dr. Johnson has said more accurately in a note on Cymbeline, that “a franklin is a freeholder with a small estate.” Malone. Fortescue, says the editor of The Canterbury Tales, vol. iv. p. 202, (de L. L. Ang. c. xxix.) describes a franklain to be pater familias—magnis ditatus possessionibus. He is classed with, but after, the miles and armiger; and is distinguished from the Libere tenentes and valecti; though, as it should seem, the only real distinction between him and other freeholders, consisted in the largeness of his estate. Spelman, in voce Franklein, quotes the following passage from Trivet's French Chronicle, MSS. Bibl. R. S, n. 56. “Thomas de Brotherton filius Edwardi I. marescallus Angliæ, apres la mort de son pere esposa la fille de un Francheleyn apelee Alice.” The historian did not think it worth his while even to mention the name of the Frankelein. Reed.

Note return to page 532 7&lblank; and call for eggs and butter:] It appears from The Household Book of the Fifth Earl of Northumberland, that butter'd eggs was the usual breakfast of my lord and lady, during the season of Lent. Steevens.

Note return to page 533 8&lblank; saint Nicholas' clerks,] St. Nicholas was the patron saint of scholars; and Nicholas, or old Nick, is a cant name for the devil. Hence he equivocally calls robbers, St. Nicholas' clerks. Warburton. Highwaymen or robbers were so called, or Saint Nicholas's knights: “A mandrake grown under some heavy tree, “There where Saint Nicholas knights not long before “Had dropt their fat axungia to the lee.” Glareanus Vadeanus's Panegyrick upon Tom Coryat. Grey. Again, in Rowley's Match at Midnight, 1633: “I think yonder comes prancing down the hills from Kingston, a couple of St. Nicholas's clerks.” Again, in A Christian Turn'd Turk, 1612: “&lblank; We are prevented; &lblank; “St. Nicholas's clerks are stepp'd up before us.” Again, in The Hollander, a comedy by Glapthorne, 1640: “Next it is decreed, that the receives of our rents and customs, to wit, divers rooks, and St. Nicholas clerks, &c.—under pain of being carried up Holborn in a cart,” &c. Steevens. This expression probably took its rise from the parish clerks of London, who were incorporated into a fraternity or guild, with St. Nicholas for their patron. Whalley. See vol. iv. p. 82, n. 2, where an account is given of the origin of this expression as applied to scholars. Malone.

Note return to page 534 9&lblank; other Trojans &lblank;] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.” Trojan in both these instances had a cant signification, and perhaps was only a more creditable term for a thief. So, again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “&lblank; unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 535 1I am joined with no foot land-rakers, &c.] That is, with no padders, no wanderers on foot. No ‘long-staff six-penny strikers,’—no fellows that infest the road with long-staffs, and knock men down for six-pence. ‘None of these mad mustachio, purple-hued malt-worms,’—of those whose faces are red with drinking ale. Johnson.

Note return to page 536 2&lblank; six-penny strikers;] A striker had some cant signification with which at present we are not exactly acquainted. It is used in several of the old plays. I rather believe in this place, ‘no six-penny striker’ signifies, ‘not one who would content himself to borrow, i. e. rob you for the sake of six-pence.’ That to borrow was the cant phrase for to steal, is well known; and that to strike likewise signified to borrow, let the following passage in Shirley's Gentleman of Venice confirm: “Cor. You had best assault me too. “Mal. I must borrow money, “And that some call a striking,” &c. Again, in Glapthorne's Hollander, 1640: “The only shape to hide a striker in.” Again, in an old MS. play entitled, The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “&lblank; one that robs the mind, “Twenty times worse than any highway striker.” Steevens. In Greene's Art of Coneycatching, 1592, under the table of Cant Expressions used by Thieves: “&lblank; the cutting a pocket or picking a purse, is called striking.” Again: “&lblank; who taking a proper youth to be his prentice, to teach him the order of striking and foisting.” Collins. See also, The London Prodigal, 1605: “Nay, now I have had such a fortunate beginning, I'll not let a six-penny-purse escape me.” Malone.

Note return to page 537 3&lblank; malt-worms:] This cant term for a tippler I find in The Life and Death of Jack Straw, 1593: “You shall purchase the prayers of all the alewives in town, for saving a malt-worm and a customer.” Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle. Steevens.

Note return to page 538 4&lblank; burgomasters, and great oneyers;] “Perhaps, one-raires, trustees, or commissioners;” says Mr. Pope. But how this word comes to admit of any such construction, I am at a loss to know. To Mr. Pope's second conjecture, “of cunning men that look sharp, and aim well,” I have nothing to reply seriously: but choose to drop it. The reading which I have substituted [moneyers] I owe to the friendship of the ingenious Nicholas Hardinge, Esq. A moneyer is an officer of the Mint, who makes coin, and delivers out the king's money. Moneyers are also taken for bankers, or those that make it their trade to turn and return money. Either of these acceptations will admirably square with our author's context. Theobald. This is a very acute and judicious attempt at emendation, and is not undeservedly adopted by Dr. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads great owners, not without equal or greater likelihood of truth. I know not however whether any change is necessary: Gadshill tells the Chamberlain, that he is joined with no mean wretches, but “with burgomasters and great ones,” or, as he terms them in merriment by a cant termination, great oneyers, or great-one-éers, as we say, privateer, auctioneer, circuiteer. This is, I fancy, the whole of the matter. Johnson. By moneyers he means mint-men, in which sense it is used by Chaucer, Romaunt of the Rose, 6811: “But se what golde han usurers “And silver eke in their garners, “Talagiers, and these moniours.” “Moniers, [Monetarii] Regist, orig. fol. 262, 6, Anno Edw. VI. cap. 15, be monisters of the mint which make and coin the king's money. It appeareth from antiquity, that in ancient times our kings of England had mints in most of the counties of the realm. And in the tract of the Exchequer written by Ocham, is found, that whereas the sheriffes ordinarily were tied to pay into the Exchequer the kings sterling for such debts as they were to answer, they of Northumberland and Cumberland were at liberty to pay in any sort of money, so it were silver; and the reason is there given, because these two shires monetarios de antiquâ institutione non habent.” Minsheu's Guide into Tongues, col. 473. Grey. Mr. Hardinge's conjecture may be supported by an ancient authority, and is probably right: “&lblank; there is a house upon Page Greene, next unto the round tuft of trees, sometime in the tenure and occupation of Simon Bolton, Monyer;” i. e. probably banker. Description of Tottenham High-Cross, 1631. Reed. Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—onyers, that is, publick accountants; men possessed of large sums of money belonging to the state.—It is the course of the Court of Exchequer, when the sheriff makes up his accounts for issues, amerciaments, and mesne profits, to set upon his head o. ni. which denotes oneratur, nisi habeat sufficientem exonerationem: he thereupon becomes the king's debtor, and the parties peravaile (as they are termed in law) for whom he answers, become his debtors, and are discharged as with respect to the King. To settle accounts in this manner, is still called in the Exchequer, to ony; and from hence Shakspeare perhaps formed the word onyers.—The Chamberlain had a little before mentioned, among the travellers whom he thought worth plundering, an officer of the Exchequer, “a kind of auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what.” This emendation may derive some support from what Gadshill says in the next scene: “There's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's Exchequer.” The first quarto has—oneyres, which the second and all the subsequent copies made oneyers. The original reading gives great probability to Hanmer's conjecture. Malone. Sir David Dalrymple from the word burgomasters preceding, suggested mynheers. Mr. Capell has the same conjecture; but I think Mr. Hardinge's the most probable. Yet still there is a difficulty; for he is speaking of his companions, not those whom he means to plunder. Boswell.

Note return to page 539 5&lblank; such as can hold in; such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink, &c.] According to the specimen given us in this play, of this dissolute gang, we have no reason to think they were less ready to drink than speak. Besides, it is plain, a natural gradation was here intended to be given of their actions, relative to one another. But what has speaking, drinking, and praying, to do with one another? We should certainly read think in both places instead of drink; and then we have a very regular and humorous climax. “They will strike sooner than speak; and speak sooner than think; and think sooner than pray.” By which last words is meant, that “though perhaps they may now and then reflect on their crimes, they will never repent of them.” The Oxford editor has dignified this correction by his adoption of it. Warburton. I am in doubt about this passage. There is yet a part unexplained. What is the meaning of such as can hold in? It cannot mean such as can keep their own secret, for they will, he says, speak sooner than think: it cannot mean such as will go calmly to work without unnecessary violence, such as is used by long-staff strikers, for the following part will not suit with this meaning; and though we should read by transposition such as will speak sooner than strike, the climax will not proceed regularly. I must leave it as it is. Johnson. Such as can hold in, may mean such as can curb old father antick the law, or such as will not blab. Steevens. Turbervile's Book on Hunting, 1575, p. 37, mentions huntsmen on horseback to make young hounds “hold in and close” to the old ones: so Gadshill may mean, that he is joined with such companions as will hold in, or keep and stick close to one another, and such as are men of deeds, and not of words; and yet they love to talk and speak their mind freely better than to drink. Tollet. I think a gradation was intended, as Dr. Warburton supposes. To hold in, I believe, meant to ‘keep their fellows' counsel and their own;’ not to discover their rogueries by talking about them. So, in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keep in.” Gadshill, therefore, I suppose, means to say, that he keeps company with steady robbers; such as will not impeach their comrades, or make any discovery by talking of what they have done; men that will strike the traveller sooner than talk to him; that yet would sooner speak to him than drink, which might intoxicate them, and put them off their guard; and, notwithstanding, would prefer drinking, however dangerous, to prayer, which is the last thing they would think of.—The words however will admit a different interpretation. We have often in these plays, “it were as good a deed as to drink.” Perhaps therefore the meaning may be,—Men who will knock the traveller down sooner than speak to him; who yet will speak to him and bid him stand, sooner than drink; (to which they are sufficiently well inclined;) and lastly, who will drink sooner than pray. Here indeed the climax is not regular. But perhaps our author did not intend it should be preserved. Malone.

Note return to page 540 6She will, she will; justice hath liquor'd her.] A satire on chicane in courts of justice; which supports ill men in their violations of the law, under the very cover of it. Warburton. Alluding to boots mentioned in the preceding speech. “They would melt me (says Falstaff, in The Merry Wives of Windsor,) out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me.” See also Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1627, p. 199: “Item, a halfpenny for liquor for his boots.” Malone.

Note return to page 541 7&lblank; as in a castle,] This was once a proverbial phrase. So, Dante, (in Purgatorio): Sicura quasi rocca in alto monte. Again, in The Little French Lawyer, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “That noble courage we have seen, and we “Shall fight as in a castle.” Perhaps Shakspeare means, we steal with as much security as the ancient inhabitants of castles, who had those strong holds to fly to for protection and defence against the laws. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act III. Sc. I.: “Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, “And uses it to patronage his theft.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse and force, therfore called giants, who kept themselves in a castle seated upon the top of a rock, impregnable,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 542 8&lblank; we have the receipt of fern-seed,] Fern is one of those plants which have their seed on the back of the leaf so small as to escape the sight. Those who perceived that fern was propagated by semination, and yet could never see the seed, were much at a loss for a solution of the difficulty; and as wonder always endeavours to augment itself, they ascribed to fern-seed many strange properties, some of which the rustick virgins have not yet forgotten or exploded. Johnson. This circumstance relative to fern-seed is alluded to in Beaumont and Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn: “&lblank; had you Gyges' ring, “Or the herb that gives invisibility?” Again, in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “&lblank; I had “No medicine, sir, to go invisible, “No fern-seed in my pocket.” Again, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny, book xxvii. ch. ix.: “Of ferne be two kinds, and they beare neither floure nor seede.” Steevens. The ancients, who often paid more attention to received opinions than to the evidence of their senses, believed that fern bore no seed. Our ancestors imagined that this plant produced seed which was invisible. Hence, from an extraordinary mode of reasoning, founded on the fantastic doctrine of signatures, they concluded that they who possessed the secret of wearing this seed about them would become invisible. This superstition the good sense of the poet taught him to ridicule. It was also supposed to seed in the course of a single night, and is called in Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, 1613: “The wond'rous one-night-seeding ferne.” Absurd as these notions are, they were not wholly exploded in the time of Addison. He laughs at “a doctor who was arrived at the knowledge of the green and red dragon, and had discovered the female fern-seed.” Tatler, No. 240. Holt White.

Note return to page 543 9&lblank; purchase,] Is the term used in law for any thing not inherited but acquired. Johnson. Purchase was anciently the cant term for stolen goods. So, in Henry V. Act III.: “They will steal any thing, and call it purchase.” So, Chaucer: “And robbery is holde purchase.” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 1&lblank; Homo is a common name, &c.] Gadshill had promised as he was a true man; the Chamberlain wills him to promise rather as a false thief; to which Gadshill answers, that though he might have reason to change the word true, he might have spared man, for homo is a name common to all men, and among others to thieves. Johnson. This is a quotation from The Accidence, and I believe is not the only one from that book, which, therefore, Mr. Capell should have added to his Shaksperiana. Lort. See vol. v. p. 391, n. 3; and vol. vi. p. 106, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 545 2&lblank; like a gummed velvet.] This allusion we often meet with in the old comedies. So, in The Malcontent, 1604: “I'll come among you, like gum into taffata, to fret, fret.” Steevens.

Note return to page 546 3&lblank; four foot by the squire &lblank;] The thought is humorous, and alludes to his bulk: insinuating, that his legs being four foot asunder, when he advanced four foot, this put together made four feet square. Warburton. I am in doubt whether there is so much humour here as is suspected: “Four foot by the squire” is probably no more than ‘four foot by a rule.’ Johnson. Dr. Johnson is certainly right. Bishop Corbet says in one of his poems: “Some twelve foot by the square.” Farmer. All the old copies read—“by the squire,” which points out the etymology—esquierre, Fr. The same phrase occurs in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.” Again, in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part II. sect. IV.: “&lblank; as for a workman not to know his axe, saw, squire, or any other toole,” &c. Steevens. See vol. iv. p. 435, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 547 4&lblank; medicines to make me love him,] Alluding to the vulgar notion of love powder. Johnson. So, in Othello: “&lblank; she is corrupted “By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 548 5&lblank; rob a foot further.] This is only a slight error, which yet has run through all the copies. We should read—“rub a foot.” So we now say—“rub on.” Johnson. Why may it not mean—‘I will not go a foot further to rob? Steevens.

Note return to page 549 6&lblank; to colt &lblank;] Is to fool, to trick; but the prince taking it in another sense, opposes it by uncolt, that is, unhorse. Johnson. In the first of these senses it is used by Nashe, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, &c. 1596: “His master fretting and chaffing to be thus colted of both of them,” &c. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Loyal Subject: “What, are we bobbed thus still? colted and carted?” From Decker's Bell-man's Night-Walkes, &c. 1616, it appears that the technical term for any inn-keeper or hackney-man who had been cheated of horses, was a colt. Steevens.

Note return to page 550 7&lblank; heir-apparent garters!] “He may hang himself in his own garters” is a proverb in Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 551 8An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison:] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Shall have thy trespass cited up in rhymes, “And sung by children in succeeding times.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra; “&lblank; saucy lictors “Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers “Ballad us out of tune.” Malone.

Note return to page 552 9Bard. What news?] In all the copies that I have seen, Poins is made to speak upon the entrance of Gadshill thus: “O, 'tis our setter; I know his voice.—Bardolph, what news?” This is absurd; he knows Gadshill to be the setter, and asks Bardolph what news. To countenance this impropriety, the latter editions have made Gadshill and Bardolph enter together, but the old copies bring in Gadshill alone, and we find that Falstaff, who knew their stations, calls to Bardolph among others for his horse, but not to Gadshill, who was posted at a distance. We should therefore read: “Poins. O, 'tis our setter, &c. “Bard. What news? “Gads. Case ye,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 553 1&lblank; dole,] The portion of alms distributed at Lambeth palace gate is at this day called the dole. In Jonson's Alchemist, Subtle charges Face with perverting his master's charitable intentions, by selling the dole beer to aqua-vitæ men. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in The Costly Whore, 1633: “&lblank; we came thinking “We should have some dole at the bishop's funeral.” Again: “Go to the back gate, and you shall have dole.” Steevens. The same proverb occurs in The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 135. Malone.

Note return to page 554 2&lblank; gorbellied &lblank;] i. e. fat and corpulent. See the Glossary to Kennet's Parochial Antiquities. This word is likewise used by Sir Thomas North in his translation of Plutarch. Nashe, in his Have With You to Saffron Walden, 1596, says: —“O 'tis an unconscionable gorbellied volume, bigger bulk'd than a Dutch hoy, and far more boisterous and cumbersome than a payre of Swissers omnipotent galeaze breeches.” Again, in The Weakest goes to the Wall, 1600: “What are these thick-skinned, heavy-pursed, gorbellied churles mad?” Steevens.

Note return to page 555 3&lblank; ye fat chuffs;] This term of contempt is always applied to rich and avaricious people. So, in The Muses' Looking Glass, 1638: “&lblank; the chuff's crowns, “Imprison'd in his rusty chest,” &c. The derivation of the word is said to be uncertain. Perhaps it is a corruption of chough, a thievish bird that collects his prey on the sea-shore. So, in Chaucer's Assemble of Foules: “The thief the chough, and eke the chatt'ring pie.” Sir W. D'Avenant, in his Just Italian, 1630, has the same term: “They're rich choughs, they've store “Of villages and plough'd earth.” And Sir Epicure Mammon, in The Alchemist, being asked who had robbed him, answers, “a kind of chough, sir.” Steevens. The name of the Cornish bird is pronounced by the natives chow. Chuff is the same word with cuff, both signifying a clown, and being in all probability derived from a Saxon word of the latter sound. Ritson. See various derivations of this word in Johnson's Dictionary by Todd. Boswell.

Note return to page 556 *Direction in the old copies—Here they rob them, and bind them. Exeunt. Enter the Prince and Poins.

Note return to page 557 4&lblank; the true men:] In the old plays a true man is always set in opposition to a thief. So, in the ancient Morality called Hycke Scorner, bl. l. no date: “And when me list to hang a true man &lblank; “Theves I can help out of pryson.” Again, in The Four Prentices of London, 1615: “Now, true man, try if thou canst rob a thief.” Again: “Sweet wench, embrace a true man, scorn a thief.” See vol. ix. p. 148, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 558 5&lblank; argument for a week,] Argument is subject matter for conversation or a drama. So, in the second part of this play: “For all my part has been but as a scene “Acting that argument.” Mr. M. Mason adopts the former of these meanings, and adds, in support of his opinion, a passage from Much Ado About Nothing, vol. vii. p. 23, where Don Pedro says to Benedick: “&lblank; if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.” Steevens.

Note return to page 559 6Each takes his fellow for an officer.] The same thought, a little varied, occurs again in King Henry VI. Part III.: “The thief doth fear each bush an officer.,’ Steevens.

Note return to page 560 7And lards the lean earth &lblank;] So, in King Henry V. “In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie “Larding the plain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 561 8Enter Hotspur, reading a letter.] This letter was from George Dunbar, Earl of March, in Scotland. Mr. Edwards's MS. Notes.

Note return to page 562 9&lblank; my lord of York &lblank;] Richard Scroop, Archbishop of York. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 1&lblank; I could brain him with his lady's fan.] Mr. Edwards observes, in his Canons of Criticism, “that the ladies in our author's time wore fans made of feathers.” See Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour, Act II. Sc. II.: “This feather grew in her sweet fan sometimes, tho' now it be my poor fortune to wear it.” So again, in Cynthia's Revels, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; for a garter, “Or the least feather in her bounteous fan.” Again, as Mr. Whalley observes to me, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at several Weapons, Act V.: “&lblank; Wer't not better “Your head were broke with the handle of a fan? ” See the wooden cut in a note on a passage in The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 75, and the figure of Marguerite de France Duchesse de Savoie, in the fifth vol. of Montfaucon's Monarchie de France, Plate xi. Steevens. This passage ought to be a memento to all commentators, not to be too positive about the customs of former ages. Mr. Edwards has laughed unmercifully at Dr. Warburton for supposing that Hotspur meant to brain the Earl of March with the handle of his lady's fan, instead of the feathers of it. The lines quoted by Mr. Whalley show that the supposition was not so wild a one as Mr. Edwards conceived. Malone.

Note return to page 564 2How now, Kate?] Shakspeare either mistook the name of Hotspur's wife, (which was not Katharine, but Elizabeth,) or else designedly changed it, out of the remarkable fondness he seems to have had for the familiar appellation of Kate, which he is never weary of repeating, when he has once introduced it; as in this scene, the scene of Katharine and Petruchio, and the courtship between King Henry V. and the French Princess. The wife of Hotspur was the Lady Elizabeth Mortimer, sister to Roger Earl of March, and aunt to Edmund Earl of March, who is introduced in this play by the name of Lord Mortimer. Steevens. The sister of Roger Earl of March, according to Hall, was called Eleanor: “This Edmonde was sonne to Erle Roger,— which Edmonde at King Richarde's going into Ireland was proclaimed heire apparent to the realme; whose aunt, called Elinor, this lord Henry Percy had married.” Chron. fol. 20. So also, Holinshed. But both these historians were mistaken, for her christian name undoubtedly was Elizabeth. See p. 213, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 565 3&lblank; golden sleep?] So, in Hall's Chronicle, Richard III.: “&lblank; he needed now no more once for that cause eyther to wake, or breake hys golden sleepe.” Henderson. The various epithets, borrowed from the qualities of metals, which have been bestowed on sleep, may serve to show how vaguely words are applied in poetry. In the line before us, sleep is called golden, and in King Richard III. we have “leaden slumber.” But in Virgil it is “ferreus somnus;” while Homer terms sleep brazen, or more strictly copper, &grx;&gra;&grl;&grk;&gre;&gro;&grst; &gru;&grp;&grn;&gro;&grst;. Holt White.

Note return to page 566 4And given my treasures,] So, in Othello: “To pour our treasures into foreign laps.” Malone.

Note return to page 567 5In thy faint slumbers,] Such are the remarks of Argia, on the inquietude of her husband Polynices, at the commencement of the Theban war. See the second Thebaid of Statius, v. 333, et seq. Steevens.

Note return to page 568 6&lblank; and retires;] Retires are retreats. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 10: “&lblank; their secret safe retire.” Again, in Holinshed, p. 960: “&lblank; the Frenchmen's flight, (for manie so termed their sudden retire,”) &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 569 7&lblank; frontiers,] For frontiers, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read very plausibly—fortins. Johnson. Plausible as this is, it is apparently erroneous, and therefore unnecessary. Frontiers formerly meant not only the bounds of different territories, but also the forts built along, or near those limits. In Ives's Practice of Fortification, printed in 1589, p. 1, it is said: “A forte not placed where it were needful, might skantly be accounted for frontier.” Again, p. 21: “In the frontiers made by the late emperor Charles the Fifth, divers of their walles having given way,” &c. p. 34: “It shall not be necessary to make the bulwarkes in townes so great as those in royall frontiers.” P. 40: “When as any open towne or other inhabited place is to be fortified, whether the same be to be made a royal frontier, or to be meanly defended,” &c. This account of the word will, I hope, be thought sufficient. Steevens. So, in Notes from Blackfryers, by H. Fitzgeoffery, 1617: “He'll tell of basilisks, trenches, and retires, “Of palisadoes, parapets, frontiers.” Malone.

Note return to page 570 8Of basilisks,] A basilisk is a cannon of a particular kind. So, in Ram Alley, 1611: “My cannons, demi-cannons, basilisks,” &c. Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “&lblank; are those two basilisks “Already mounted on their carriages?” Again, in Holinshed, p. 816: “&lblank; setting his basiliskes and other cannon in the mouth of the baie.” See likewise Holinshed's Description of England, p. 198, 199. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 9And all the 'currents &lblank;] i. e. the occurrences. In old language occurrent was used instead of occurrence. Malone.

Note return to page 572 1That beads of sweat &lblank;] So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; mine eyes, “Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, “Began to water.” Malone.

Note return to page 573 2On some great sudden haste.] The epithet—sudden, which overloads the verse, may be justly suspected as an interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 574 3He is, my lord, an hour ago.] I suppose our author wrote: “He is, my lord, above an hour ago.” The verse is otherwise defective: as is the Servant's next reply, which originally might have run thus: “One horse, my lord, he brought but even now.” Steevens.

Note return to page 575 4&lblank; esperance?] This was the motto of the Percy family. Malone.

Note return to page 576 5What say'st, my lady?] Old copies—What say'st thou, my lady? Steevens.

Note return to page 577 6My horse,] Old copies—Why, my horse. Steevens.

Note return to page 578 7A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,] So, in Cymbeline: “As quarrellous as the weasel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 579 8To line his enterprize:] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; did line the rebel “With hidden help and vantage.” Steevens.

Note return to page 580 9&lblank; I'll break thy little finger, Harry,] This token of amorous dalliance appeareth to be of a very ancient date; being mentioned in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 1579: “Whereupon, I think, no sort of kysses or follyes in love were forgotten, no kynd of crampe, nor pinching by the little finger.” Amner. See Antony and Cleopatra: “The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, “Which hurts, and is desired.” Malone.

Note return to page 581 1Hot. Away, Away, you trifler!—Love?—I love thee not,] This, I think, would be better thus: “Hot. Away, you trifler! “Lady. Love! “Hot. I love thee not. “This is no world,” &c. Johnson. The alteration proposed by Dr. Johnson seems unnecessary. The passage, as now regulated, appears to me perfectly clear.— The first love is not a substantive, but a verb: “&lblank; love [thee?]—I love thee not.” Hotspur's mind being intent on other things, his answers are irregular. He has been musing, and now replies to what Lady Percy had said some time before: “Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, “And I must know it,—else he loves me not.” In a subsequent scene this distinguishing trait of his character is particularly mentioned by the Prince of Wales, in his description of a conversation between Hotspur and Lady Percy: “O my sweet Harry, (says she,) how many hast thou killed to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, (says he, and answers,)—some fourteen, —an hour after.” Malone.

Note return to page 582 2&lblank; mammets,] Puppets. Johnson. So Stubbs, speaking of ladies drest in the fashion, says: “they are not natural, but artificial women, not women of flesh and blood, but rather puppets or mammets, consisting of ragges and clowts compact together.” So, in the old comedy of Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “&lblank; I have seen the city of new Nineveh, and Julius Cæsar, acted by mammets.” Again, in the ancient romance of Virgilius, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; he made in that compace all the goddes that we call mawmets and ydolles.” Mammet is perhaps a corruption of Mahomet. Throughout the English translation of Marco Paolo, 1579, Mahometans and other worshippers of idols are always called Mahomets and Mahmets. Holinshed's History of England, p. 108, speaks “of mawmets aud idols.” This last conjecture and quotation is from Mr. Tollet. I may add, that Hamlet seems to have the same idea when he tells Ophelia, that “he could interpret between her and her love, if he saw the puppets dallying.” Steevens. We charge the prelatical clergy with popery, to make them odious, though we know they are guilty of no such thing; just as heretofore they called images mammets, and the adoration of images mammetry: that is, mahomet and mahometry, odious names; when all world knows the Turks are forbidden images by their religion. Selden's Table Talk, Art. Popery. Boswell.

Note return to page 583 3&lblank; crack'd crowns, &c.] Signifies at once cracked money, and a broken head. Current will apply to both; as it refers to money, its sense is well known; as it is applied to a broken head, it insinuates that a soldier's wounds entitle him to universal reception. Johnson. The same quibble occurs in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “&lblank; I'll none of your cracked French crowns &lblank; “King. No cracked French crowns! I hope to see more cracked French crowns ere long. “Priest. Thou mean'st of Frenchman's crowns,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 584 4Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;] This line is borrowed from a proverbial sentence: “A woman conceals what she knows not.” See Ray's Proverbs. Steevens. So, in Nashe's Anatomie of Absurditie, 1587: “In the same place he [Valerius] saith, quis muliebri garrulitati aliquid committit, quæ illud solum potest tacere quod nescit? who will commit any thing to a woman's tatling trust, who conceales nothing but that she knows not?” Malone.

Note return to page 585 5Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.] In the old anonymous play of King Henry V. Eastcheap is the place where Henry and his companions meet: “Henry 5. You know the old tavern in Eastcheap; there is good wine.” Shakspeare has hung up a sign for them that he saw daily; for the Boar's Head tavern was very near Black-friars play-house. See Stowe's Survey, 4to. 1618, p. 686. Malone. This sign is mentioned in a Letter from Henry Wyndesore, 1459, 38 Henry VI. See Letters of the Paston Family, vol. i. p. 175. The writer of this letter was one of Sir John Fastolf's household. Sir John Fastolf, (as I learn from Mr. T. Warton,) was in his life-time a considerable benefactor to Magdalen College, Oxford, for which his name is commemorated in an anniversary speech: and though the College cannot give the particulars at large, the Boar's Head in Southwark, (which still retains that name, though divided into tenements, yielding 1501. per ann.) and Caldecot manor in Suffolk, were part of the lands, &c. he bestowed. Steevens.

Note return to page 586 6&lblank; I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers;] Alluding to the fratres jurati in the ages of adventure. So, says Bardolph, in King Henry V. Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; we'll be all three sworn brothers to France.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 587 7&lblank; Corinthian,] A wencher. Johnson. This cant expression is common in old plays. So, Randolph, in The Jealous Lovers, 1632: “&lblank; let him wench, “Buy me all Corinth for him.” Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum. Again, in the tragedy of Nero, 1633: “Nor us, tho' Romans, Lais will refuse, “To Corinth any man may go.” Steevens.

Note return to page 588 8&lblank; and when you breathe, &c.] A certain maxim of health attributed to the school of Salerno, may prove the best comment on this passage. I meet with a similar expression in a MS. play of Timon of Athens, which, from the hand-writing, appears to be at least as ancient as the time of Shakspeare: “&lblank; we also do enact “That all hold up their heads, and laugh aloud; “Drink much at one draught; breathe not in their drink; “That none go out to &lblank;.” Steevens. There is no ground (as Mr. Gifford has observed) for Mr. Steevens's filthy interpretation of this passage. “To breathe in your watering” is ‘to stop and take breath when you are drinking.’ The following passage, from Samuel Rowland's Letting of Humours Blood in the Head-vaine, &c. 1600, which was first pointed out by Sir Walter Scott in a reprint of that collection, will fully explain the phrase: “Will is a right good fellow by this drinke, “&stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “Shall look into your water well enough, “And hath an eye that no man leaves a snuffe; “A p&wblank; of piecemeal drinking William sayes, “Play it away, we'll have no stoppes and stayes. “Blowne drinke is odious, what man can disgest it? “No faithfull drunkard but he doth detest it.” To cry hem! was a jovial exclamation. See the note on— “Cry sorrow wag, and hem when he should groan.” Much Ado about Nothing, vol. vii. p. 128. It was not fallen into disuse in the last century. When Brome's Jovial Crew was revived with songs 1732, the following was one of them: “There dwelt an old fellow at Waltham cross, “Who merrily sung though he lived by the loss; “He cheared up his heart when his goods went to wrack, “With a hem boys hem, and a cup of old sack.” Boswell.

Note return to page 589 9&lblank; this pennyworth of sugar,] It appears from the following passage in Look About You, 1600, and some others, that the drawers kept sugar folded up in papers, ready to be delivered to those who called for sack: “&lblank; but do you hear? “Bring sugar in white paper, not in brown.” Shakspeare might perhaps allude to a custom mentioned by Decker, in The Gul's Horn Book, 1609: “Enquire what gallants sup in the next roome, and if they be any of your acquaintance, do not you (after the city fashion) send them in a pottle of wine, and your name sweetened in two pittiful papers of sugar, with some filthy apologie cram'd into the mouth of a drawer,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 590 1&lblank; under-skinker;] A tapster; an under-drawer. Skink is drink, and a skinker is one that serves drink at table. Johnson. Schenken, Dutch, is to fill a glass or cup; and schenker is a cup-bearer, one that waits at table to fill the glasses. An under-skinker is, therefore, as Dr. Johnson has explained it, an under-drawer. Steevens. Giles Fletcher, in his Russe Commonwealth, 1591, p. 13, speaking of a town built on the south side of Moskoa, by Basilius the emperor, for a garrison of soldiers, says: “&lblank; to whom he gave privilege to drinke mead and beer at the drye or prohibited times, when other Russes may drinke nothing but water; and for that cause called this new citie by the name of Naloi, that is, skink or poure in.” So, in Ben Jonson's Poetaster, Act IV. Sc. III.: “Alb. I'll ply the table with nectar, and make 'em friends. “Her. Heaven is like to have but a lame skinker.” Reed.

Note return to page 591 2Enter Francis.] This scene, helped by the distraction of the drawer, and grimaces of the Prince, may entertain upon the stage, but affords not much delight to the reader. The author has judiciously made it short. Johnson.

Note return to page 592 3Look down into the Pomegranate,] To have windows or loop-holes looking into the rooms beneath them, was anciently a general custom. See note on King Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. II. Steevens. It means, I think, go down into the Pomegranate, and see whether they want any thing. Malone.

Note return to page 593 4Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, &c.] The Prince intends to ask the drawer whether he will rob his master, whom he denotes by many contemptuous distinctions. Johnson.

Note return to page 594 5&lblank; crystal-button,] It appears from the following passage in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier, 1620, that a leather jerkin with crystal-buttons was the habit of a pawn-broker: “&lblank; a black taffata doublet, and a spruce leather jerkin with chrystal buttons, &c. I enquired of what occupation: Marry, sir, quoth he, a broker.” Steevens.

Note return to page 595 6&lblank; nott-pated,] It should be printed as in the old folios, nott-pated [not knot-pated.] So, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, the Yeman is thus described: “A nott head had he with a brown visage.” A person was said to be nott-pated, when the hair was cut short and round. Ray says the word is still used in Essex, for polled or shorn. Vide Ray's Collection, p. 108. Morell's Chaucer, 8vo. p. 11, vide Jun. Etym. ad verb. Percy. So, in The Widow's Tears, by Chapman, 1612: “&lblank; your nott-headed country gentleman.” Again, in Stowe's Annals for the Year 1535, 27th of Henry the Eighth: “He caused his own head to bee polled, and from thenceforth his beard to bee notted and no more shaven.” In Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, to notte the hair is the same as to cut it. Steevens.

Note return to page 596 7&lblank; puke-stocking,] In Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, a puke colour is explained as being a colour between russet and black, and is rendered in Latin pullus. Again, in Drant's translation of the eighth Satire of Horace, 1567: &lblank; nigra succinctam vadere palla. “&lblank; ytuckde in pukishe frecke.” In a small book entitled The Order of my Lorde Maior, &c. for their Meetings and Wearing of theyr Apparel throughout the Yeere, printed in 1586: “the maior, &c. are commanded to appeare on Good Fryday in their pewke gownes, and without their chaynes and typetes.” Shelton, in his translation of Don Quixote, p. 2, says: “the rest and remnant of his estate was spent on a jerkine of fine puke.” Edit. 1612. In Salmon's Chymist's Shop Laid Open, there is a receipt to make a puke colour. The ingredients are the vegetable gall and a large proportion of water; from which it should appear that the colour was grey. In the time of Shakspeare the most expensive silk stockings were worn; and in King Lear, by way of reproach, an attendant is called a worsted-stocking knave. So that, after all, perhaps the word puke refers to the quality of the stuff rather than to the colour. Steevens. Dugdale's Warwickshire, 1730, p. 406, speaks of “a gown of black puke.” The statute 5 and 6 of Edward VI. c. vi. mentions cloth of these colours “puke, brown-blue, blacks.” Hence puke seems not to be a perfect or full black, but it might be a russet blue, or rather, a russet black, as Mr. Steevens intimates from Barrett's Alvearie. Tollet. If Shelton be accurate, as I think he is, in rendering velarte by puke; puke must signify russet wool that has never been dyed. Henley. I have no doubt that the epithet referred to the dark colour. Black stockings are now worn, as they probably were in Shakspeare's time, by persons of inferior condition, on a principle of œconomy. In Markham's English Houswife, 1660, we meet with the following recipe, chap. v. on dressing wool, p. 124: “To dye wool of a puke colour, take galls, and beat them very small in a morter, put them into fair seething water, and boyle your wool or your cloth therein, and boyle them the space of half an hour: then take them up, and put in your coperas into the same liquor, then put in your wool again, and doing this once or twice, it will be sufficient.” Malone.

Note return to page 597 8&lblank; caddis-garter,] Caddis was, I believe, a kind of coarse ferret. The garters of Shakspeare's time were worn in sight, and consequently were expensive. He who would submit to wear a coarser sort was probably called by this contemptuous distinction, which I meet with again in Glapthorne's Wit in a Constable, 1639: “&lblank; dost hear, “My honest caddis-garters?” This is an address to a servant. Again, in Warres, or the Peace is Broken: “&lblank; fine piecd silke stockens on their legs, tyed up smoothly with caddis garters &lblank;.” Steevens. “At this day, [about the year 1625] says the continuator of Stowe's Chronicle, men of mean rank weare garters and shoe-roses of more than five pound price.” In a note on Twelfth-Night, Mr. Steevens observes that very rich garters were anciently worn below the knee; and quotes the following lines from Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. ix. c. xlvii. which may throw a light on the following passage: “Then wore they “Garters of listes; but now of silk, some edged deep with gold.” In a manuscript Account-book kept by Mr. Philip Henslowe, step-father to the wife of Alleyn the player, of which an account in given in vol. iii. is the following article: “Lent unto Thomas Hewode, [the dramatick writer,] the 1 of september 1602, to bye him a payre of silver garters, ijs. vid.” Caddis was worsted galloon. Malone.

Note return to page 598 9&lblank; brown bastard &lblank;] Bastard was a kind of sweet wine. The prince finding the waiter not able, or not willing, to understand his instigation, puzzles him with unconnected prattle, and drives him away. Johnson. In an old dramatick piece, entitled, Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco, the second edition, 1630, Beer says to Wine: “Wine well born? Did not every man call you bastard but t'other day?” So again, in The Honest Whore, a comedy by Dekker, 1635: “&lblank; What wine sent they for? “Ro. Bastard wine; for if it had been truely begotten, it would not have been asham'd to come in. Here's sixpence to pay for the nursing the bastard.” Again, in The Fair Maid of the West, 1631: “I'll furnish you with bastard, white or brown.” &c. In the ancient metrical romance of The Squhr of Low Degre, bl. l. no date, is the following catalogue of wines: “You shall have Rumney and Malmesyne, “Both Ypocrasse and Vernage wyne: “Mountrose, and wyne of Greke, “Both Algrade and Respice eke, “Antioche and Bastarde, “Pyment also and Garnarde: “Wyne of Greke and Muscadell, “Both Clare-Pyment and Rochell, “The rede your stomach to defye, “And pottes of Osey set you by.” Steevens. Maison Rustique, translated by Markham, 1616, p. 635, says: “&lblank; such wines are called mungrell, or bastard wines, which (betwixt the sweet and astringent ones) have neither manifest sweetness, nor manifest astriction, but indeed participate and contain in them both qualities.” Tollet. Barrett, however, in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, says, that “bastarde is muscadell, sweet wine.” Steevens. So also, in Stowe's Annals, 867: “When an argosie came with Greek and Spanish wines, viz. muscadel, malmsey, sack, and bastard,” &c. Malone. Bastard wines are said, by Olaus Magnus, to be Spanish wines in general. He speaks of them with almost as much enthusiasm as Falstaff does of sack: “Vina igitur Hispanica etsi Bastarda nomine, a negotiatoribus in aquilonem delata appellantur: tamen sapore, colore, et odore, et excellentiam dulcedinis, ab omnibus legitima reputantur. Est enim suave, pingue, mollitèr crassum, vivacitate firmissimum, nare violentum, colore quam perspicuum; quod ita redolet ore ructatum ut merito illi excellentior aliqua æstimatio debeatur,” &c. Olai Magni Gent. Septentrionalium Historia. Basiliæ, 1567, p. 520. Boswell.

Note return to page 599 1&lblank; I am not yet of Percy's mind,] The drawer's answer had interrupted the prince's train of discourse. He was proceeding thus: “I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours;—I am not yet of Percy's mind;” that is, ‘I am willing to indulge myself in gaiety and frolick, and try all the varieties of human life.’ “I am not yet of Percy's mind,”—who thinks all the time lost that is not spent in bloodshed, forgets decency and civility, and has nothing but the barren talk of a brutal soldier. Johnson.

Note return to page 600 2&lblank; Rivo,] This was perhaps the cant of the English taverns. Johnson. This conjecture Dr. Farmer has supported by a quotation from Marston: “If thou art sad at others' fate, “Rivo, drink deep, give care the mate.” I find the same word used in the comedy of Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “&lblank; Yet to endear ourselves to thy lean acquaintance, cry rivo ho! laugh and be fat,” &c. Again, in Marston's What You Will, 1607: “&lblank; that rubs his guts, claps his paunch, and cries rivo,” &c. Again: “Rivo, here's good juice, fresh borage, boys.” Again, “Sing, sing, or stay: we'll quaffe, or any thing: “Rivo, Saint Mark!” Steevens.

Note return to page 601 3&lblank; nether-stocks,] Nether-stocks are stockings. See King Lear, vol. xi. p. 108, n. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 4Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan! that melted at the sweet tale of the sons!] The usual reading has hitherto been—“the sweet tale of the sun.” The present change will be accounted for in the course of the following annotations. Steevens. All that wants restoring is a parenthesis, into which (pitiful-hearted Titan!) should be put. Pitiful-hearted means only amorous, which was Titan's character: the pronoun that refers to butter. The heat of the sun is figuratively represented as a love-tale, the poet having before called him pitiful-hearted, or amorous. Warburton. The same thought, as Dr. Farmer observed to me, is found among Turberville's Epitaphs, p. 142: “It melts as butter doth against the sunne.” The reader, who inclines to Dr. Warburton's opinion, will please to furnish himself with some proof that pitiful-hearted was ever used to signify amorous, before he pronounces this learned critick's emendation to be just. In the oldest copy, the contested part of the passage appears thus: “&lblank; at the sweet tale of the sonnes.” Our author might have written—“pitiful-hearted Titan, who melted at the sweet tale of his son;” i. e. of Phaëton, who, by a plausible story, won on the easy nature of his father so far, as to obtain from him the guidance of his own chariot for a day. As gross a mythological corruption as the foregoing, occurs in Locrine, 1595: “The arm-strong offspring of the doubted knight, “Stout Hercules,” &c. Thus all the copies, ancient and modern. But I should not hesitate to read—doubled night, i. e. the night lengthened to twice its usual proportion, while Jupiter possessed himself of Alcmena; a circumstance with which every school-boy is acquainted. Steevens. I have followed the reading of the original copy in 1598, rejecting only the double genitive, for it reads—of the son's. Sun, which is the reading of the folio, derives no authority from its being found in that copy; for the change was made arbitrarily in the quarto 1604, and adopted of course in that of 1608 and 1613, from the latter of which the folio was printed; in consequence of which the accumulated errors of the five preceding editions were incorporated in the folio copy of this play. Mr. Theobald reads—“pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun;”—which is not so absurd as—“pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun,”— but yet very exceptionable; for what is the meaning of butter melting at a tale? or what idea does the tale of the sun convey? Dr. Warburton, who, with Mr. Theobald, reads—sun, has extracted some sense from the passage by placing the words—“pitiful-hearted Titan” in a parenthesis, and referring the word that to butter; but then, besides that his interpretation pitiful-hearted, which he says means amorous, is unauthorized and inadmissible, the same objection will lie to the sentence when thus regulated, that has already been made to the reading introduced by Mr. Theobald. The prince undoubtedly, as Mr. Theobald observes, by the words, “Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?” alludes to Falstaff's entering in a great heat, “his fat dripping with the violence of his motion, as butter does with the heat of the sun.” Our author here, as in many other places, having started an idea, leaves it, and goes to another that has but a very slight connection with the former. Thus the idea of butter melted by Titan, or the Sun, suggests to him the idea of Titan's being melted or softened by the tale of his son, Phaëton: a tale, which undoubtedly Shakspeare had read in the third book of Golding's translation of Ovid, having, in his description of Winter, in The Midsummer-Night's Dream, imitated a passage that is found in the same page in which the history of Phaëton is related. I should add that the explanation now given was suggested by the foregoing note.—I would, however, wish to read—“thy son.” In the old copies, the, thee, and thy are frequently confounded. I am now [This conclusion of Mr. Malone's note is taken from his Appendix,] persuaded that the original reading—son's, however ungrammatical, is right; for such was the phraseology of our poet's age. So again in this play: “This absence of your father's draws a curtain.” not—of your father. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; the letters of Hermione's &lblank;.” Again, in King John: “With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Nay, but this dotage of our general's &lblank;.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; or could this earl, “A very drudge of nature's &lblank;.” How little attention the reading of the folio (“&lblank; of the sun's,”) is entitled to, may appear from hence. In the quarto copy of 1613, we find—“Why then 'tis like, if there comes a hot sun,”—instead of—“a hot June.” There, as in the instance before us, the error is implicitly copied in the folio.—In that copy also, in Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. ult. we find “&lblank; 'twixt natural sunne and sire,” instead of “&lblank; 'twixt natural son and sire.” Malone. Till the deviation from established grammar, which Mr. Malone has styled “the phraseology of our poet's age,” be supported by other examples than such as are drawn from the most incorrect and vitiated of all publications, I must continue to exclude the double genitive, as one of the numerous vulgarisms by which the early printers of Shakspeare have disgraced his compositions. It must frequently happen, that while we suppose ourselves struggling with the defects and obscurities of our author, we are in reality busied by omissions, interpolations, and corruptions, chargeable only on the ignorance and carelessness of his original transcribers and editors. Steevens. “Pitiful-hearted Titan,” &c. I should prefer Dr. Warburton's punctuation and reading; though butter cannot literally melt at a tale, yet, as Mr. Malone has justly observed, Shakspeare's similes seldom quadrate completely. As to pitiful-hearted signifying amorous, our author, perhaps as well as Dryden, knew— “&lblank; that love was in the next degree, “'Twas but a kindred strain to move, “For pity melts the soul to love.” Thus the prince's comparison is very witty: Falstaff, in his present heat, might well look like “butter in the sun,” as we proverbially phrase it. To suppose him like Apollo, overcome by the solicitations of Phaëton, is, if at all admissible, to say the best of it, very flat. Blakeway. If the old copies of Shakspeare are not considered as sufficient authority for a phraseology which is common at this day, I can produce that of one of the commentators. See Mr. Edwards's note, p. 14, “This observation of Mr. Pope's.” I am however convinced, with Mr. Blakeway, that Warburton's explanation is the right one. Boswell.

Note return to page 603 5&lblank; here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man:] Sir Richard Hawkins, one of Queen Elizabeth's sea-captains, in his Voyages, p. 379, says: “Since the Spanish sacks have been common in our taverns, which for conservation are mingled with the lime in the making, our nation complains of calentures, of the stone, the dropsy, and infinite other distempers, not heard of before this wine came into frequent use. Besides, there is no year that it wasteth not two millions of crowns of our substance, by conveyance into foreign countries.” I think Lord Clarendon, in his Apology, tells us, “That sweet wines before the Restoration were so much to the English taste, that we engrossed the whole product of the Canaries; and that not a pipe of it was expended in any other country in Europe.” But the banished cavaliers brought home with them the goust for French wines, which has continued ever since. Warburton. Dr. Warburton does not consider that sack, in Shakspeare, is most probably thought to mean what we now call sherry, which, when it is drank, is still drank with sugar. Johnson. Rhenish is drank with sugar, but never sherry. The difference between the true sack and sherry, is distinctly marked by the following passage in Fortune by Land and Sea, by Heywood and Rowley, 1655: “Rayns. Some sack, boy, &c. “Drawer. Good sherry sack, sir? “Rayns. I meant canary, sir: what, hast no brains?” Steevens. Eliot, in his Orthoepia, 1593, speaking of sack and rhenish. says: “The vintners of London put in lime, and thence proceed infinite maladies, specially the gouttes.” Farmer. From the following passage in Greene's Ghost Haunting Conie-catchers, 1604, it seems as though lime was mixed with the sack for the purpose of giving strength to the liquor: “&lblank; a christian exhortation to Mother Bunch would not have done amisse, that she should not mixe lime with her ale to make it mightie.” Reed. Sack, the favourite beverage of Sir John Falstaff, was, according to the information of a very old gentleman, a liquor compounded of sherry, cyder, and sugar, Sometimes it should seem to have been brewed with eggs, i. e. mulled. And that the vintners played tricks with it, appears from Falstaff's charge in the text. It does not seem to be at present known; the sweet wine so called, being apparently of a quite different nature. Ritson. That the sweet wine at present called sack, is different from Falstaff's favourite liquor, I am by no means convinced. On the contrary, from the fondness of the English nation for sugar at this period, I am rather inclined to Dr. Warburton's opinion on this subject. If the English drank only rough wine with sugar, there appears nothing extraordinary, or worthy of particular notice; and that their partiality for sugar was very great, will appear from the following passage in Hentzner already quoted, p. 205, as well as the passage from Morison's Itinerary, which being since adopted by Mr. Malone in his note, ibid. need not to be here repeated. The addition of sugar even to sack, might, perhaps, to a taste habituated to sweets, operate only in a manner to improve the flavour of the wine. Reed.

Note return to page 604 6&lblank; I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms, &c.] In the first edition [the quarto 1598,] the passage is read thus:— “I could sing psalms or any thing.” In the first folio thus: “I could sing all manner of songs.” Many expressions bordering on indecency or profaneness are found in the first editions, which are afterwards corrected. The reading of the three last editions, “I could sing psalms and all manner of songs,” is made without authority out of different copies. Johnson. The editors of the folio, 1623, to avoid the penalty of the statute, 3 Jac. I. c. xxi. changed the text here, as they did in many other places from the same motive. Malone. In the persecutions of the Protestants in Flanders under Philip II. those who came over into England on that occasion, brought with them the woollen manufactory. These were Calvinists, who were always distinguished for their love of psalmody. Warburton. I believe nothing more is here meant than to allude to the practice of weavers, who, having their hands more employed than their minds, amuse themselves frequently with songs at the loom. The knight, being full of vexation, wishes he could sing to divert his thoughts. Weavers are mentioned as lovers of musick in The Merchant of Venice. [Twelfth-Night, vol. xi. p. 390, n. 2.] Perhaps “to sing like a weaver” might be proverbial. Johnson. Dr. Warburton's observation may be confirmed by the following passage: Ben Jonson, in The Silent Woman, makes Cutberd tell Morose, that “the parson caught his cold by sitting up late, and singing catches with cloth-workers.” Steevens. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; but one puritan among them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes.” Malone. The Protestants who fled from the persecution of the Duke d'Alva were mostly weavers and woollen manufacturers: they settled in Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, and other counties, and (as Dr. Warburton observes,) being Calvinists, were distinguished for their love of psalmody. For many years the inhabitants of these counties have excelled the rest of the kingdom in the skill of vocal harmony. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 605 7&lblank; a dagger of lath,] i. e. such a dagger as the Vice in the old moralities was arm'd with. So, in Twelfth-Night: “In a trice, like to the old Vice,   “Your need to sustain: “Who with dagger of lath, “In his rage and his wrath,” &c. Again, in Like Will to Like, quoth the Devil to the Collier, 1587, the Vice says: “Come no neer me you knaves for your life. “Lest I stick you both with this wood knife. “Back, I say, back, you sturdy beggar; “Body o' me, they have tane away my dagger.” And in the Second Part of this play, Falstaff calls Shallow a “Vice's dagger.” Steevens.

Note return to page 606 8Poins. 'Zounds, &c.] Thus the first quarto and the three subsequent copies. In the quarto of 1613, Prince being prefixed to this speech by the carelessness of the printer, the error, with many others, was adopted in the folio; the quarto of 1613 being evidently the copy from which the folio was printed. Malone.

Note return to page 607 9&lblank; my buckler cut through and through;] It appears from the old comedy of The Two Angry Women of Abington, that this method of defence and fight was in Shakspeare's time growing out of fashion. The play was published in 1599, and one of the characters in it makes the following observation: “I see by this dearth of good swords, that sword-and-buckler-fight begins to grow out. I am sorry for it; I shall never see good manhood again. If it be once gone, this poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up then. Then a tall man, and a good sword-and-buckler-man, will be spitted like a cat, or a coney: then a boy will be as good as a man,” &c. Steevens. See vol. viii. p. 70, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 608 1&lblank; an Ebrew Jew.] So, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian.” The natives of Palestine were called Hebrews, by way of distinction from the stranger Jews denominated Greeks. Steevens. Jews, in Shakspeare's time, were supposed to be peculiarly hard-hearted. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting.” Malone.

Note return to page 609 2&lblank; two, I am sure, I have paid;] i. e. drubbed, beaten. So, in Marlowe's translation of Ovid's Elegies, printed at Middleburgh (without date): “Thou cozenest boys of sleep, and dost betray them “To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them.” Malone. Paid, here, seems to import more than drubbed, beaten. I think it means killed. In Sir Richard Hawkins's Observations, we have payments in this sense. See p. 58. Reed.

Note return to page 610 3In buckram.] I believe these words belong to the Prince's speech: “&lblank; there were but four even now,—in buckram.” Poins concurs with the Prince: “Ay, four, in buckram suits;” and Falstaff perseveres in the number of seven. As the speeches are at present regulated, Falstaff seems to assent to the Prince's assertion, that there were but four, if the Prince will but grant they were in buckram; and then immediately afterwards asserts that the number of his assailants was seven. The regulation proposed renders the whole consistent. Malone.

Note return to page 611 4P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram. Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.] From the Prince's speech, and Poins's answer, I apprehend that Falstaff's reply should be interrogatively: “In buckram?” Whalley.

Note return to page 612 5Fal. Their points being broken,— Poins. Down fell their hose.] To understand Poins's joke, the double meaning of point must be remembered, which signifies the sharp end of a weapon, and the lace of a garment. The cleanly phrase for letting down the hose, ad levandum alvum, was to untruss a point. Johnson. So, in the comedy of Wily Beguiled: “I was so near taken, that I was fain to cut all my points.” Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; Help me to truss my points. &lblank;” “I had rather see your hose about your heels, than I would help you to truss a point.” Randle Holme also, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon, book iii. ch. iii. has given us to understand, that these holders “are small wiers made round, through which the breeches hooks are put, to keep them from falling.” The same jest indeed had already occurred in Twelfth Night. See vol. xi. p. 363, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 6&lblank; Kendal &lblank;] Kendal, in Westmoreland, is a place famous for making cloths, and dying them with several bright colours. To this purpose, Drayton, in the 30th song of his Polyolbion: “&lblank; where Kendal town doth stand, “For making of our cloth scarce match'd in all the land.” Kendal green was the livery of Robert Earl of Huntington and his followers, while they remained in a state of outlawry, and their leader assumed the title of Robin Hood. The colour is repeatedly mentioned in the old play on this subject, 1601: “&lblank; all the woods “Are full of outlaws, that, in Kendall green, “Follow the out-law'd earl of Huntington.” Again: “Then Robin will I wear thy Kendall green.” Again, in The Playe of Robyn Hoode verye proper to be played in Maye Games, bl. l. no date: “Here be a sorte of ragged knaves come in, “Clothed all in Kendale grene.” Steevens. Again: “Kendal, a towne so highly renowned for her commodious cloathing and industrious trading, as her name is become famous in that kind.” Camd. in Brit. Barnabee's Journal. Bowle. See also Hall's Chronicle, Henry VIII. p. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 614 7&lblank; tallow-keech,] The word tallow-catch is in all editions; but having no meaning, cannot be understood. In some parts of the kingdom, a cake or mass of wax or tallow, is called a keech, which is doubtless the word intended here, unless we read tallow-ketch, that is, tub of tallow. Johnson. The conjectural emendation ketch, i. e. tub, is very ingenious. But the Prince's allusion is sufficiently striking, if we alter not a letter; and only suppose, that by tallow-catch, he means a receptacle for tallow. T. Warton. Tallow-keech is undoubtedly right, but ill explained. A keech of tallow is the fat of an ox or cow rolled up by the butcher in a round lump, in order to be carried to the chandler. It is the proper word in use now. Percy. A keech is what is called a tallow-loaf in Sussex, and in its form resembles the rotundity of a fat man's belly. Collins. Shakspeare calls the butcher's wife goody Keech, in the Second Part of this play. Steevens.

Note return to page 615 8&lblank; when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand.] The humour of Falstaff seeing the colour of the men's coats, when it was so dark he could not see his hand, is just like a passage in the Plutus of Aristophanes, where Carion the slave says, that, after covering his head with his cloke, he saw Æsculapius, upon which the old woman observes, &grS;&gru; &grd;&gre; &grp;&grw;&grst; &gre;&grw;&grr;&gra;&grst;, &grw; &grk;&gra;&grk;&gri;&grs;&grt;&grap; &gra;&grp;&gro;&grl;&gro;&gru;&grm;&gre;&grn;&gre;, &grO;&grst; &gre;&grl;&grk;&gre;&grk;&gra;&grl;&gru;&grf;&grq;&gra;&gri; &grf;&grhi;&grst;; iii. 3. Blakeway.

Note return to page 616 9&lblank; the strappado,] “The strappado is when the person is drawn up to his height, and then suddenly to let him fall half way with a jerk, which not only breaketh his arms to pieces, but also shaketh all his joints out of joint; which punishment is better to be hanged, than for a man to undergo.” See Randle Holme's Academy of Arms and Blazon, book iii. ch. vii. p. 310. Steevens.

Note return to page 617 1&lblank; you starveling, you elf-skin,] For elf-skin Sir Thomas Hanmer and Dr. Warburton read eel-skin. The true reading, I believe, is elf-kin, or little fairy: for though the Bastard in King John compares his brother's two legs to two eel-skins stuff'd, yet an eel-skin simply bears no great resemblance to a man. Johnson. In these comparisons Shakspeare was not drawing the picture of a little fairy, but of a man remarkably tall and thin, to whose shapeless uniformity of length, an “eel-skin stuff'd” (for that circumstance is implied) certainly bears a humorous resemblance, as do the taylor's yard, the tuck, or small sword set upright, &c. The comparisons of the stock-fish and dried neat's tongue allude to the leanness of the Prince. The reading—eel-skin, is supported likewise by the passage already quoted from King John, and by Falstaff's description of the lean Shallow in The Second Part of King Henry IV. Shakspeare had historical authority for the leanness of the Prince of Wales. Stowe, speaking of him, says, “he exceeded the mean stature of men, his neck long, body slender and lean, and his bones small,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 618 2&lblank; you bound them,] The old copies read—and bound them. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 619 3&lblank; the lion will not touch the true prince.] So, in The Mad Lover, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Fetch the Numidian lion I brought over; “If she be sprung from royal blood, the lion “Will do her reverence, else he'll tear her,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 620 4Instinct is a great matter;] Diego, the host, in Love's Pilgrimage, by Beaumont and Fletcher, excuses a rudeness he had been guilty of to one of his guests, in almost the same words: “&lblank; should I have been so barbarous as to have parted brothers? “Philippo. &lblank; You knew it then? “Diego. &lblank; I knew 'twas necessary “You should be both together. Instinct, signior, “Is a great matter in an host.” Steevens.

Note return to page 621 4&lblank; there is a nobleman &lblank; Give him as much as will make him a royal man,] I believe here is a kind of jest intended. He that received a noble was, in cant language, called a nobleman: in this sense the Prince catches the word, and bids the landlady ‘give him as much as will make him a royal man,’ that is, a real or royal man, and send him away. Johnson. The same play on the word—royal, occurs in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “This is not noble sport, but royal play. “It must be so where royals walk so fast.” Steevens. “Give him as much as will make him a royal man.” The royal went for 10s.—the noble only for 6s. and 8d. Tyrwhitt. This seems to allude to a jest of Queen Elizabeth. Mr. John Blower, in a sermon before her majesty, first said: “My royal Queen,” and a little after: “My noble Queen.” Upon which says the Queen: “What am I ten groats worse than I was?” This is to be found in Hearne's Discourse of some Antiquities between Windsor and Oxford; and it confirms the remark of the very learned and ingenious Mr. Tyrwhitt. Tollet.

Note return to page 622 5&lblank; to tickle our noses with spear-grass, &c.] So, in the old anonymous play of The Victories of Henry the Fifth: “Every day when I went into the field, I would take a straw, and thrust it into my nose, and make my nose bleed,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 623 6&lblank; the blood of true men.] That is, of the men with whom they fought, of honest men, opposed to thieves. Johnson.

Note return to page 624 7&lblank; taken with the manner,] Taken with the manner is a law phrase, and then in common use, to signify taken in the fact. But the Oxford editor alters it, for better security of the sense, to—“taken in the manor;”—i. e. I suppose, by the lord of it, as a stray. Warburton. The expression—“taken in the manner,” or “with the manner,” is a forensick term, and common to many of our old dramatick writers. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Rule a Wife and Have a Wife: “How like a sheep-biting rogue taken in the manner, “And ready for a halter, dost thou look now?” Again, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “Take them not in the manner, though you may.” Steevens. Manour, or Mainour, or Maynour, an old law term, (from the French mainaver or manier, Lat. manu tractare,) signifies the thing which a thief takes away or steals; and to be taken with the manour or mainour, is to be taken with the thing stolen about him, or doing an unlawful act, flagrante delicto, or, as we say, in the fact. The expression is much used in the forest-laws. See Manwood's edition in quarto, 1665, p. 292, where it is spelt manner. Hawkins. Dr. Pettingall, in his Enquiry into the Use and Practice of Juries among the Greeks and Romans, 4to. p. 176, observes, that “in the sense of being taken in the fact, the Romans used the expression manifesto deprehensus. Cic. pro Cluentio—et pro Cœlio. The word manifesto seems to be formed of manu. Hence the Saxons expressed this idea by words of the same import, hand, habend, having in the hand, or back berend, bearing on the back. The Welsh laws of Hoel-dda, used in the same sense the words lledrad un y llaw—latrocinium vel furtum in manu, the theft in his hand. The English law calls it taken with the manner, instead of the mainer, from main, the hand, in the French language, in which our statute laws were written from Westminst. primer 3 Edward I. to Richard III. In Westminst. primer, c. xv. it is called prise ove le mainer. In Rot. Parliament. 5 Richard II. Tit. 96, Cotton's Abridgement, and Coke's Institutes, it is corruptly called taken with the manner; and the English translators of the Bible, following the vulgar jargon of the law, rendered Numbers v. 13, relating to a woman taken in the fact of adultery, by taken with the manner.”—“In the Scotch law it is called taken with the fang. See Reg. Majest. lib. iv. c. xxi. And in cases of murder manifest, the murderer was said to be taken with the red hand and hot blade. All which modes of expression in the Western Empire took their origin from the Roman manifesto deprehensus.” Reed.

Note return to page 625 8Thou hadst fire and sword, &c.] The fire was in his face. A red face is termed a fiery face: “While I affirm a fiery face “Is to the owner no disgrace.” Legend of Capt. Jones. Johnson.

Note return to page 626 9Hot livers, and cold purses.] That is, drunkenness and poverty. To drink was, in the language of those times, to heat the liver. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act I. Sc. II. as Charmian replies to the Soothsayer: “Sooth. You shall be more beloving, than belov'd. “Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 627 1Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter.] The reader who would enter into the spirit of this repartee, must recollect the similarity of sound between collar and choler. So, in King John and Matilda, 1655: “O. Bru. Son, you're too full of choler. “Y. Bru. Choler! halter. “Fitz. By the mass, that's near the collar.” Steevens.

Note return to page 628 2&lblank; bombast?] Is the stuffing of clothes. Johnson. Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses, 1595, observes, that in his time “the doublettes were so hard quilted, stuffed, bombasted, and sewed, as they could neither worke, nor yet well play in them.” And again, the same chapter, he adds, that they were “stuffed with foure, five, or sixe pounde of bombast at least.” Again, in Deckar's Satiromastix: “You shall swear not to bombast out a new play with the old linings of jests.” Bombast is cotton. Gerard calls the cotton plant “the bombast tree.” Steevens.

Note return to page 629 3&lblank; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring:] Aristophanes has the same thought: &grD;&gri;&grag; &grd;&gra;&grk;&grt;&gru;&grl;&gria;&gro;&gru; &grm;&greg;&grn; &gro;&grusc;&grn; &gres;&grm;&grea; &grg;&grap; &grasa;&grn; &grd;&gri;&gre;&grl;&grk;&grua;&grs;&gra;&gri;&grst;. Plutus, v. 1037. Sir. W. Rawlinson. An alderman's thumb-ring is mentioned by Brome in The Antipodes, 1640: “&lblank; Item, a distich graven in his thumb-ring.” Again, in The Northern Lass, 1632: “A good man in the city, &c. wears nothing rich about him, but the gout, or a thumb-ring.” Again, in Wit in a Constable, 1640: “&lblank; no more wit than the rest of the bench; what lies in his thumb-ring.” The custom of wearing a ring on the thumb, is very ancient. In Chaucer's Squier's Tale, it is said of the rider of the brazen horse, who advanced into the hall of Cambuscan, that “&lblank; upon his thombe he had of gold a ring.” Steevens.

Note return to page 630 4&lblank; upon the cross of a Welsh hook,] A Welsh hook appears to have been some instrument of the offensive kind. It is mentioned in the play of Sir John Oldcastle: “&lblank; that no man presume to wear any weapons, especially welsh-hooks and forest-bills.” Again, in Westward Hoe, by Deckar and Webster, 1607: “&lblank; it will be as good as a Welsh-hook for you, to keep out the other at staves-end.” Again, in The Insatiate Countess, by Marston, 1613: “The ancient hooks of great Cadwallader.” “The Welsh Glaive,” (which I take to be the same weapon under another name,) says Captain Grose in his Treatise on Ancient Armour, “is a kind of bill, sometimes reckoned among the pole-axes;” a variety perhaps of the securis falcata, or probably resembling the Lochaber axe, which was used in the late rebellion. Colonel Gardner was attacked with such a one at the battle of Prestonpans. See the representation of an ancient watchman, with a bill on his shoulder, vol. vii. p. 87. Steevens. The Welsh hook, I believe, was pointed, like a spear, to push or thrust with; and below had a hook to seize the enemy if he should attempt to escape by flight. I take my ideas from a passage in Butler's Character of a Justice of the Peace, whom the witty author thus describes: “His whole authority is like a Welsh hook; for his warrant is a puller to her, and his mittimus a thruster from her.” Remains, vol. ii. p. 192. Whalley. Minsheu, in his Dict. 1617, explains a Welsh hook thus: “Armorum genus est ære in falcis modum incurvato, perticæ longissimæ præfixo.” Cotgrave calls it “a long hedging-bill, about the length of a partisan.” See also Florio's Italian Dict. 1598: “Falcione. A bending forrest bill, or Welsh hook.— “Pennati. “Hedge-bills, forest bills, Welsh-hooks, or weeding hooks.” Malone.

Note return to page 631 5&lblank; pistol &lblank;] Shakspeare never has any care to preserve the manners of the time. Pistols were not known in the age of Henry. Pistols were, I believe, about our author's time, eminently used by the Scots. Sir Henry Wotton somewhere makes mention of a Scottish pistol. Johnson. Beaumont and Fletcher are still more inexcusable. In The Humorous Lieutenant, they have equipped Demetrius Poliorcetes, one of the immediate successors of Alexander the Great, with the same weapon. Steevens.

Note return to page 632 6&lblank; blue-caps &lblank;] A name of ridicule given to the Scots from their blue-bonnets. Johnson. There is an old ballad called “Blew Cap for Me,” or “A Scottish lass her resolute chusing; “Shee'll have bonny blew cap, all other refusing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 633 7&lblank; thy father's beard is turned white with the news;] I think Montaigne mentions a person condemned to death, whose hair turned grey in one night. Tollet. Nashe, in his Have With You to Saffron Walden, &c. 1596, says: “&lblank; looke and you shall find a grey haire for everie line I have writ against him; and you shall have all his beard white too, by the time he hath read over this book.” The reader may find more examples of the same phænomenon in Grimeston's translation of Goulart's Memorable Histories, p. 489, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 634 8&lblank; you may buy land, &c.] In former times the prosperity of the nation was known by the value of land, as now by the price of stocks. Before Henry the Seventh made it safe to serve the King regnant, it was the practice at every revolution, for the conqueror to confiscate the estates of those that opposed, and perhaps of those who did not assist him. Those, therefore, that foresaw the change of government, and thought their estates in danger, were desirous to sell them in haste for something that might be carried away. Johnson.

Note return to page 635 9Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.] In the old anonymous play of Henry V. the same strain of humour is discoverable: “Thou shalt be my lord chief justice, and shalt sit in the chair; and I'll be the young prince, and hit thee a box on the ear,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 636 1&lblank; This chair shall be my state,] A state is a chair with a canopy over it. So, in Macbeth: “Our hostess keeps her state.” See also, vol. xi. p. 416, n. 7. This, as well as a following passage, was perhaps designed to ridicule the mock majesty of Cambyses, the hero of a play which appears from Deckar's Guls Hornbook, 1609, to have been exhibited with some degree of theatrical pomp. Deckar is ridiculing the impertinence of young gallants who sat or stood on the stage: “on the very rushes where the commedy is to daunce, yea and under the state of Cambises himselfe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 637 2&lblank; this cushion my crown.] Dr. Letherland, in a MS. note, observes that the country people in Warwickshire use a cushion for a crown, at their harvest-home diversions; and in the play of King Edward IV. Part II. 1619, is the following passage: “Then comes a slave, one of those drunken sots, “In with a tavern reck'ning for a supplication. “Disguised with a cushion on his head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 638 3Thy state, &c.] This answer might, I think, have better been omitted: it contains only a repetition of Falstaff's mock-royalty. Jonson. This is an apostrophe of the Prince to his absent father, not an answer to Falstaff. Farmer. Rather a ludicrous description of Falstaff's mock regalia. Ritson.

Note return to page 639 4&lblank; king Cambyses' &lblank;] The banter is here upon a play called, A Lamentable Tragedie, mixed full of Pleasant Mirth, containing the Life of Cambises, King of Persia. By Thomas Preston. [1570.] Theobald. I question if Shakspeare had ever seen this tragedy; for there is a remarkable peculiarity of measure, which, when he professed to speak in “king Cambyses' vein,” he would hardly have missed, if he had known it. Johnson. There is a marginal direction in the old play of King Cambyses: “At this tale tolde, let the queen weep;” which I fancy is alluded to, though the measure is not preserved. Farmer.

Note return to page 640 5&lblank; my leg.] That is, my obeisance to my father. Johnson.

Note return to page 641 6&lblank; my tristful queen,] Old copies—trustful. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. The word tristful is again used in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 390. Malone.

Note return to page 642 7&lblank; the flood-gates of her eyes.] This passage is probably a burlesque on the following in Preston's Cambyses: “Queen. These words to hear makes stilling teares issue from chrystall eyes.” Perhaps, says Dr. Farmer, we should read—“do ope the floodgates,” &c. Steevens. The allusion may be to the following passage in Soliman and Perseda: “How can mine eyes dart forth a pleasant look, “When they are stop'd with floods of flowing tears?” Ritson.

Note return to page 643 8&lblank; harlotry players,] The word is used in The Plowman's Tale: “Soche harlotre men,” &c. Again, in P. P. fol. 27: “I had lever hear an harlotry, or a somer's game.” Junius explains the word by “inhonesta paupertinæ sortis fœditas.” Steevens.

Note return to page 644 9&lblank; tickle-brain,] This appears to have been the nick name of some strong liquor. So, in A New Trick to Cheat the Devil, 1636: “A cup of Nipsitate brisk and neat, “The drawers call it tickle-brain.” In The Antipodes, 1640, settle-brain is mentioned as another potation. Steevens.

Note return to page 645 1&lblank; though the camomile, &c.] This whole speech is supremely comick. The simile of camomile used to illustrate a contrary effect, brings to my remembrance an observation of a late writer of some merit, whom the desire of being witty has betrayed into a like thought. Meaning to enforce with great vehemence the mad temerity of young soldiers, he remarks, that “though Bedlam be in the road to Hogsden, it is out of the way to promotion.” Johnson. In The More the Merrier, a collection of Epigrams, 1608, is the following passage; “The camomile shall teach thee patience, “Which thriveth best when trodden most upon.” Again, in Parasitaster, or the Fawne, a comedy, by Marston, 1606: “For indeed, sir, a repress'd fame mounts like camomile, the more trod down, the more it grows.” Steevens. The style immediately ridiculed, is that of Lyly, in his Euphues: “Though the camomile the more it is trodden and pressed downe, the more it spreadeth: yet the violet the oftener it is handled and touched, the sooner it withereth and decayeth,” &c. Farmer. Again, in Philomela, the Lady Fitzwaller's Nightingale, by Robert Greene, bl. l. 1595, sign. I 4: “The palme tree, the more it is prest downe, the more it sprowteth up: the camomill, the more it is troden, the sweeter smell it yeildeth.” Reed.

Note return to page 646 2Shall the blessed sun of heaven &lblank;] Thus the first quarto. In the second quarto, 1599, the word sun was changed to son, which consequently is the reading of the subsequent quartos and the folio: and so I suspect the author wrote. The orthography of these two words was formerly so unsettled, that it is often from the context alone one can determine what is meant. Malone.

Note return to page 647 3&lblank; a micher;] i. e. truant; to mich is to lurk out of sight, a hedge-creeper. Warburton. The allusion is to a truant boy, who unwilling to go to school, and afraid to go home, lurks in the fields, and picks wild fruits. Johnson. In A Comment on the Ten Commandments, printed at London, in 1493, by Richard Pynson, I find the word thus used: “They make Goddes house a den of theyves; for commonly in such feyrs and markets, wheresoever it be holden, ther ben many theyves, michers, and cutpurse.” Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “Pox on him, micher, I'll make him pay for it.” Again, in Lyly's Mother Bombie, 1594: “How like a micher he stands, as though he had truanted from honesty.” Again, in the old Morality of Hycke Scorner: “Wanton wenches and also michers.” Steevens. A micher, I believe, means only a lurking thief distinguished from one more daring. Lambard in his Eirenarcha, 1610, p. 186, speaking of the powers which may be exercised by one justice, says, he may charge the constables to arrest such as shall be suspected to be “draw-latches, wastors, or robertsmen, that is to say, either miching or mightie theeves, for the meaning must remaine howsoever the word be gone out of use.” Reed.

Note return to page 648 4&lblank; this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile;] Alluding to an ancient ballad beginning: “Who toucheth pitch must be defil'd.” Steevens. Or perhaps to Lyly's Euphues: “He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled.” Holt White. Dr. Farmer has pointed out another passage exhibiting the same observation, but omitted to specify the work to which it belongs: “&lblank; It is harde for a man to touch pitch, and not to be defiled with it.” Steevens. The quotation is from the apocryphal book of Ecclesiasticus, xiii. 1: “He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.” Harris.

Note return to page 649 5&lblank; If then the tree, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer reads—“If then the fruit may be known by the tree, as the tree by the fruit,” &c. and his emendation has been adopted in the late editions. The old reading is, I think, well supported by Mr. Heath, who observes, that “Virtue is considered as the fruit, the man as the tree; consequently the old reading must be right. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree,—that is, If I can judge of the man by the virtue I see in his looks, he must be a virtuous man.” Malone. I am afraid here is a prophane allusion to the 33d verse of the 12th chapter of St. Matthew. Steevens.

Note return to page 650 6&lblank; rabbet-sucker, &c.] Is, I suppose, a sucking rabbet. The jest is in comparing himself to something thin and little. So a poulterer's hare; a hare hung up by the hind legs without a skin, is long and slender. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is right; for in the account of the serjeant's feast, by Dugdale, in his Orig. Juridiciales, one article is a dozen of rabbet-suckers. Again, in Lyly's Endymion, 1591: “I prefer an old coney before a rabbet-sucker.” Again, in The Tryal of Chivalry, 1599: “&lblank; a bountiful benefactor for sending thither such rabbet-suckers.” A poulterer was formerly written—a poulter, and so the old copies of this play. Thus, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, 1595: “We must have our tables furnisht like poulters' stalles.” Steevens.

Note return to page 651 7&lblank; a tun of man &lblank;] Dryden has transplanted this image into his Mac Flecknoe: “A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, “Yet sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 652 8&lblank; bolting-hutch &lblank;] Is the wooden receptacle into which the meal is bolted. Steevens.

Note return to page 653 9&lblank; that huge bombard of sack,] A bombard is a barrel. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 654 1&lblank; Manningtree ox &lblank;] Manningtree in Essex, and the neighbourhood of it, are famous for richness of pasture. The farms thereabouts are chiefly tenanted by graziers. Some ox of an unusual size was, I suppose, roasted there on an occasion of publick festivity, or exposed for money to publick show. This place likewise appears to have been noted for the intemperance of its inhabitants. So, in Newes from Hell, brought by the Devil's Carrier, by Thomas Decker, 1606: “&lblank; you shall have a slave eat more at a meale than ten of the guard; and drink more in two days, than all Manningtree does at a Whitsun-ale.” Steevens. It appears from Heywood's Apology for Actors, 1612, that Manningtree formerly enjoyed the privilege of fairs, by exhibiting a certain number of stage-plays yearly. See also The Choosing of Valentines, a poem, by Thomas Nashe, MS. in the Library of the Inner Temple, No. 538, vol. xliii.: “&lblank; or see a play of strange moralitie, “Showen by bachelrie of Manning-tree, “Whereto the countrie franklins flock-meale swarme.” Again, in Decker's Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, 1607: “Cruelty has got another part to play; it is acted like the old morals at Manning-tree.” In this season of festivity, we may presume it was customary to roast an ox whole, “Huge volumes, (says Osborne, in his Advice to his Son,) like the ox roasted whole at Bartholomew Fair, may proclaim plenty of labour and invention, but afford less of what is delicate, savoury, and well concocted, than smaller pieces.” Malone.

Note return to page 655 2&lblank; that reverend vice, that grey iniquity,—that vanity in years?] The Vice, Iniquity, and Vanity, were personages exhibited in the old moralities. Malone.

Note return to page 656 3&lblank; cunning,] Cunning was not yet debased to a bad meaning; it signified knowing, or skilful. Johnson.

Note return to page 657 4&lblank; take me with you;] That is, go no faster than I can follow. Let me know your meaning. Johnson. Lyly, in his Endymion, says: “Tush, tush, neighbours, take me with you.” Farmer. The expression is so common in the old plays, that it is unnecessary to introduce any more quotations in support of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 658 5If sack and sugar be a fault,] Sack with sugar was a favourite liquor in Shakspeare's time. In a Letter describing Queen Elizabeth's entertainment at Killingworth castle, 1575, by R. L. [Langham] bl. l. 12mo. the writer says, (p. 86,) “sipt I no more sack and sugar than I do malmzey, I should not blush so much a dayz az I doo.” And in another place, describing a minstrel, who, being somewhat irascible, had been offended at the company, he adds: “at last, by sum entreaty, and many fair woords, with sack and sugar, we sweeten him again.” P. 52. In an old MS. book of the chamberlain's account belonging to the city of Worcester, I also find the following article, which points out the origin of our word sack, [Fr. sec.] viz. “&lblank; Anno Eliz. xxxiiij. [1592] Item, For a gallon of clarett wyne, and seck, and a pound of sugar, geven to sir John Russell, iiij. s.”—This Sir John Russell, I believe, was their representative in parliament, or at least had prosecuted some suit for them at the court.—In the same book is another article, which illustrates the history of the stage at that time, viz. “A. Eliz. xxxiiij. Item, Bestowed upon the queen's trumpeters and players, iiij. lb.” Percy. This liquor is likewise mentioned in Monsieur Thomas, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1639, and in The Wild Goose Chase of the same authors: “&lblank; You shall find us at the tavern, “Lamenting in sack and sugar for your losses.” Again, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “I use not to be drunk with sack and sugar.” Steevens. The folio, and some of the later quartos, give this speech to Falstaff. Boswell.

Note return to page 659 6&lblank; a fiddle-stick:] I suppose this phrase is proverbial. It occurs in The Humorous Lieutenant of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; for certain, gentlemen, “The fiend rides on a fiddle-stick.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 7&lblank; mad,] Old copies—made. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. I am not sure that I understand this speech. Perhaps Falstaff means to say,—We must now look to ourselves; never call that which is real danger, fictitious or imaginary. If you do, you are a madman, though you are not reckoned one. Should you admit the sheriff to enter here, you will deserve that appellation. The first words, however, “Never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit,” may allude, not to real and imaginary danger, but to the subsequent words only, essential and seeming madness. Malone.

Note return to page 661 8I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so;] Falstaff clearly intends a quibble between the principal officer of a corporation, now called a mayor, to whom the sheriff is generally next in rank, and one of the parts of a logical proposition. Ritson. To render this supposition probable, it should be proved that the mayor of a corporation was called in Shakspeare's time ma-jor. That he was not called so at an earlier period, appears from several old books, among others from The History of Edward V. annexed to Hardynge's Chronicle, 1543, where we find the old spelling was maire:—“he beeyng at the haveryng at the bower, sent for the maire and aldermen of London.” Fol. 307, b.—If it shall be objected, that afterwards the pronunciation was changed to ma-jor, the following couplet in Jordan's Poems, (no date, but printed about 1661,) may serve to show that it is very unlikely that should have been the case, the pronunciation being at the Restoration the same as it is now: “&lblank; and the major “Shall justle zealous Isaac from the chaire.” Malone. Major is the Latin word, and occurs, with the requisite pronunciation, as a dissyllable, in King Henry VI. Part I. (folio edition): “Major, farewell; thou dost but what thou may'st.” Ritson.

Note return to page 662 9&lblank; hide thee behind the arras;] The bulk of Falstaff made him not the fittest to be concealed behind the hangings, but every poet sacrifices something to the scenery. If Falstaff had not been hidden, he could not have been found asleep, nor had his pockets searched. Johnson. When arras was first brought into England, it was suspended on small hooks driven into the bare walls of houses and castles. But this practice was soon discontinued; for after the damp of the stone or brickwork had been found to rot the tapestry, it was fixed on frames of wood at such a distance from the wall, as prevented the latter from being injurious to the former. In old houses, therefore, long before the time of Shakspeare, there were large spaces left between the arras and the walls, sufficient to contain even one of Falstaff's bulk. Such are those which Fantome mentions in The Drummer. Again, in The Bird in a Cage, 1633: “Does not the arras laugh at me? it shakes methinks. “Kat. It cannot choose, there's one behind doth tickle it.” Again, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “&lblank; but softly as a gentleman courts a wench behind the arras.” Again, in King John, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Heat me these irons hot, and look thou stand “Within the arras.” In Much Ado About Nothing, Borachio says, “I whipped me behind the arras.” Polonius is killed behind the arras. See likewise Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 594. See also my note on the second scene of the first Act of King Richard II. p. 22. Steevens. So, in Brathwaite's Survey of Histories, 1614: “Pyrrhus, to terrifie Fabius, commanded his guard to place an elephant behind the arras.” Malone.

Note return to page 663 1&lblank; my gracious lord;] We have here, I believe, another playhouse intrusion. Strike out the word gracious, and the metre becomes perfect: “P. Hen. What men? “Sher. One of them is well known, my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 664 2As fat as butter.] I suppose our author, to complete the verse, originally wrote— “A man as fat as butter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 665 3The man, I do assure you, is not here;] Every reader must regret that Shakspeare would not give himself the trouble to furnish Prince Henry with some more pardonable excuse; without obliging him to have recourse to an absolute falsehood, and that too uttered under the sanction of so strong an assurance. Steevens.

Note return to page 666 4Poins. Falstaff! &c.] This speech, in the old copies, is given to Peto. It has been transferred to Poins on the suggestion of Dr. Johnson. Peto is again printed elsewhere for Poins in this play, probably from a P. only being used in the MS. “What had Peto done, (Dr. Johnson observes,) to be trusted with the plot against Falstaff? Poins has the Prince's confidence, and is a man of courage. This alteration clears the whole difficulty; they all retired but Poins, who, with the Prince, having only robbed the robbers, had no need to conceal himself from the travellers.” Malone.

Note return to page 667 5&lblank; Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.] It appears from Peacham's Worth of a Penny, that sack was, not many years after Shakspeare's death, about two shillings a quart. If therefore our author had followed his usual practice of attributing to former ages the modes of his own, the charge would have been here 16s. Perhaps he set down the price at random. He has, however, as a learned friend observes to me, fallen into an anachronism, in furnishing his tavern in Eastcheap with sack in the time of King Henry IV. “The vintners sold no other sacks, muscadels, malmsies, bastards, alicants, nor any other wines but white and claret, till the 33d year of King Henry VIII. 1543, and then was old Parr 60 years of age. All those sweet wines were sold till that time at the apothecary's, for no other use but for medicines.” Taylor's Life of Thomas Parr, 4to. Lond. 1635. If therefore Falstaff got drunk with sack 140 years before the above date, it could not have been at Mrs. Quickly's. For this information I am indebted to the Reverend Dr. Stock, the accurate and learned editor of Demosthenes. Since this note was written, I have learnt from a passage in Florio's First Fruites, 1578, with which I was furnished by the late Reverend Mr. Bowle, that sack was at that time but sixpence a quart. “Claret wine, red and white, is sold for fivepence the quart, and sacke for sixpence: muscadel and malmsey for eight.” Twenty years afterwards sack had probably risen to eight-pence or eight-pence halfpenny a quart, so that our author's computation is very exact. Malone.

Note return to page 668 6&lblank; I know, his death will be a march of twelve-score.] i. e. It will kill him to march so far as twelve-score yards. Johnson. Ben Jonson uses the same expression in his Sejanus: “That look'd for salutations twelve-score off.” Again, in Westward Hoe, 1606: “I'll get me twelve-score off, and give aim.” Again, in an ancient MS. play, entitled, The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “&lblank; not one word near it; “There was no syllable but was twelve-score off.” Steevens. That is, twelve score feet; the Prince quibbles on the word foot, which signifies a measure, and the infantry of an army. I cannot conceive why Johnson supposes that he means twelve score yards; he might as well extend it to twelve score miles. M. Mason. Dr. Johnson supposed that “twelve-score” meant twelve score yards, because that was the common phraseology of the time. When archers talked of sending a shaft fourteen score, they meant fourteen score yards. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “This boy will carry a letter twenty miles, as easily as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve-score.” See also, King Henry IV. Part II. I have therefore great doubts whether the equivoque pointed out by Mr. Mason was intended. If not, Mr. Pope's interpretation [twelve-score foot] is wrong, and Dr. Johnson's right. Malone. “Twelve-score” always means so many yards, and not feet. There is not the smallest reason to suppose that Shakspeare meant any quibble. Douce.

Note return to page 669 7&lblank; induction &lblank;] That is, entrance, beginning. Johnson. An induction was anciently something introductory to a play. Such is the business of the Tinker previous to the performance of The Taming of the Shrew. Shakspeare often uses the word, which his attendance on the theatres might have familiarized to his conception. Thus, in King Richard III.: “Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous.” Steevens.

Note return to page 670 8&lblank; at my nativity, &c.] Most of these prodigies appear to have been invented by Shakspeare. Holinshed says only: “Strange wonders happened at the nativity of this man; for the same night he was born, all his father's horses in the stable were found to stand in blood up to their bellies.” Steevens. In the year 1402, a blazing star appeared, which the Welsh bards represented as portending good fortune to Owen Glendower. Shakspeare had probably read an account of this star in some Chronicle, and transferred its appearance to the time of Owen's nativity. Malone.

Note return to page 671 9Of burning cressets;] A cresset was a great light set upon a beacon, light-house, or watch-tower: from the French word croissette, a little cross, because the beacons had anciently crosses on the top of them. Hanmer. The same word occurs in Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610: “Come, Cressida, my cresset-light, “Thy face doth shine both day and night.” In the reign of Elizabeth, Holinshed says: “The countie Palatine of Rhene was conveied by cresset-light, and torch-light, to Sir T. Gresham's house in Bishopsgate-street.” Again, in The Stately Moral of the Three Lords of London, 1590: “Watches in armour, triumphs, cresset-lights.” The cresset-lights were lights fixed on a moveable frame or cross, like a turnstile, and were carried on poles, in processions. I have seen them represented in an ancient print from Van Velde. See also a wooden cut in vol. iv. p. 372. Steevens.

Note return to page 672 1Why, so it would have done, &c.] A similar observation occurs in Cicero de Fato, cap. 3: “Quid mirum igitùr, ex speluncâ saxum in crura Icadii incidisse? Puto enim, etiàm si Icadius in speluncâ non fuisset, saxum tamèn illud casurum fuisse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 673 2Diseased nature &lblank;] The poet has here taken, from the perverseness and contrariousness of Hotspur's temper, an opportunity of raising his character, by a very rational and philosophical confutation of superstitious error. Johnson.

Note return to page 674 3&lblank; oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving. Shakes the old beldame earth,] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, “Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes, “Which with cold terrours doth men's minds confound.” The same thought is found in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. ix.: “&lblank; like as a boy'strous wind, “Which in th' earth's hollow caves hath long been hid, “And, shut up fast within her prison's blind, “Makes the huge element against her kind “To move, and tremble, as it were aghast, “Untill that it an issue forth may find; “Then forth it breakes; and with his furious blast “Confounds both land and seas, and skyes doth overcast.” So also, in Drayton's Legend of Pierce Gaveston, 1594: “As when within the soft and spongie soyle “The wind doth pierce the entrails of the earth, “Where hurlyburly with a restless coyle “Shakes all the centre, wanting issue forth,” &c. Malone. Beldame is not used here as a term of contempt, but in the sense of ancient mother. Belle-age, Fr. Drayton, in the 8th song of his Polyolbion, uses bel-sire in the same sense: “As his great bel-sire Brute from Albion's heirs it won.” Again, in the 14th song: “When he his long descent shall from his bel-sires bring.” Beau pere is French for father-in-law, but the word employed by Drayton seems to have no such meaning. Perhaps beldame originally meant a grandmother. So, in Shakspeare's Tarquin and Lucrece: “To show the beldame daughters of her daughter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 675 4&lblank; and topples down Steeples, and moss-grown towers.] To topple is to tumble. So, in Macbeth: “Though castles topple on their warders' heads.” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 5The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.] Shakspeare appears to have been as well acquainted with the rarer phœnomena, as with the ordinary appearances of nature. A writer in The Philosophical Transactions, No. 207, describing an earthquake in Catanea, near Mount Ætna, by which eighteen thousand persons were destroyed, mentions one of the circumstances that are here said to have marked the birth of Glendower: “There was a blow, as if all the artillery in the world had been discharged at once; the sea retired from the town above two miles; the birds flew about astonished; the cattle in the fields ran crying.” Malone. “&lblank; to the frighted fields.” We should read—in the frighted fields. M. Mason. In the very next scene, to is used where we should at present use—in: “He hath more worthy interest to the state &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 677 6&lblank; to shame the devil,] “Speak the truth, and shame the devil,” was proverbial. See Ray's Proverbs, 163. Reed.

Note return to page 678 7Bootless &lblank;] Unless we read bootless as a trisyllable, the metre will be defective. In As You Like It—wrestler is apparently to be thus pronounced: “The parts and graces of the wrestler.” Steevens. Mr. Pope transferred the word him from the former line to this: and perhaps he was right. Malone.

Note return to page 679 8The archdeacon hath divided it &lblank;] The metre is here deficient. I suppose the line originally ran thus: “The archdeacon hath divided it already. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 9England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,] i. e. to this spot (pointing to the map). Malone.

Note return to page 681 1Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here,] The division is here into three parts.—A moiety was frequently used by the writers of Shakspeare's age, as a portion of any thing, though not divided into two equal parts. See a note on King Lear, Act I. Sc. IV. Malone.

Note return to page 682 2&lblank; cranking in,] Perhaps we should read—crankling. So, Drayton, in his Polyolbion, song 7, speaking of a river, says that Meander— “Hath not so many turns, nor crankling nooks as she.” Steevens. Mr. Pope reads—crankling. Cranking, however, is right. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles.” Malone.

Note return to page 683 3&lblank; cantle out.] A cantle is a corner, or piece of any thing, in the same sense that Horace uses angulus: &lblank; O si angulus ille “Proximus arridet! Canton, Fr. canto, Ital. signify a corner. To cantle is a verb used in Decker's Whore of Babylon, 1607: “That this vast globe terrestrial should be cantled.” The substantive occurs in Drayton's Polyolbion, song 1: “Rude Neptune cutting in a cantle forth doth take.” Again, in A New Trick to Cheat the Devil, 1636: “Not so much as a cantell of cheese or crust of bread.” Steevens. Canton in heraldry is a corner of the shield. Cant of cheese is now used in Pembrokeshire. Lort. The word in its strict sense signifies a small piece of any thing, but here a portion or parcel. The French have chanteau and chantel, from the Latin quantulum. Douce. See vol. xii. p. 304, n. 2. The quartos read—scantle. Mr. Todd, in his edition of Johnson's Dictionary, produces the authority of Lord Chesterfield for the verb—to scantle; to divide into small portions. Boswell.

Note return to page 684 4Let me not understand you then,] You, an apparent interpolation, destructive to the metre, should, I think, be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 685 5For I was train'd up in the English court:] The real name of Owen Glendower was Vaughan, and he was originally a barrister of the Middle Temple. Steevens. Owen Glendower, whose real name was Owen ap-Gryffyth Vaughan, took the name of Glyndour or Glendowr from the lordship of Glyndourdwy, of which he was owner. He was particularly adverse to the Mortimers, because Lady Percy's nephew, Edmund Earl of Mortimer, was rightfully entitled to the principality of Wales, (as well as the crown of England,) being lineally descended from Gladys the daughter of Lhewelyn, and sister of David Prince of Wales, the latter of whom died in the year 1246. Owen Glendower himself claimed the principality of Wales. He afterwards became esquire of the body to K. Richard II. with whom he was in attendance at Flint Castle, when Richard was taken prisoner by Henry of Bolingbroke, afterwards King Henry IV. Owen Glendower was crowned Prince of Wales in the year 1402, and for near twelve years was a very formidable enemy to the English. He died in great distress in 1415. Malone.

Note return to page 686 6&lblank; the tongue &lblank;] The English language. Johnson. Glendower means, that he graced his own tongue with the art of singing. Ritson. I think Dr. Johnson's explanation the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 687 7&lblank; a brazen canstick turn'd,] The word candlestick, which destroys the harmony of the line, is written canstick in the quartos, 1598, 1599, and 1608; and so it was pronounced. Heywood, and several of the old writers, constantly spell it in this manner. Kit with the canstick is one of the spirits mentioned by Reginald Scott, 1584. Again, in The Famous History of Thomas Stukely, 1605, bl. l.: “If he have so much as a canstick, I am a traitor.” Again, in Chapman's Translation of Homer's Batrachomuomachia:   “&lblank; Their fenceful bucklers were “The middle rounds of cansticks; but their spear “A huge long needle was.” The noise to which Hotspur alludes, is likewise mentioned in A new Trick to Cheat the Devil, 1636: “As if you were to lodge in Lothbury, “Where they turn brazen candlesticks.” And again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Witches Metamorphosed: “From the candlesticks of Lothbury, “And the loud pure wives of Banbury.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 8I'll haste the writer,] He means the writer of the articles. Pope. I suppose, to complete the measure, we should read: “I'll in and haste the writer:” for he goes out immediately. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “But I will in, to be reveng'd for this villainy.” Again: “My cake is dough: But I'll in, among the rest.” Steevens. We should undoubtedly read: “I'll in, and haste the writer, and withal &lblank;.” The two supplemental words, which were suggested by Mr. Steevens, complete both the sense and metre, and were certainly omitted in the first copy by the negligence of the transcriber or printer. Such omissions more frequently happen than almost any other errour of the press. The present restoration is supported by various other passages. So, in Timon of Athens, Act I. Sc. I.: “1 Lord. Shall we in? “2 Lord. I'll keep you company.” Again, ibidem, Act V. Sc. III.: “In, and prepare.” Again, more appositely, in King Richard III.: “I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence.” Malone.

Note return to page 689 9&lblank; of the moldwarp and the ant,] This alludes to an old prophecy, which is said to have induced Owen Glendower to take arms against King Henry. See Hall's Chronicle, fol. 20. Pope. So, in The Mirror for Magistrates, 1559, Owen Glendower is introduced speaking of himself: “And for to set us hereon more agog, “A prophet came (a vengeaunce take them all!) “Affirming Henry to be Gogmagog, “Whom Merlyn doth a mouldwarp ever call, “Accurs'd of God, that must be brought in thrall, “By a wulf, a dragon, and a lyon strong, “Which shuld devide his kingdome them among.” The mould-warp is the mole, so called because it renders the surface of the earth unlevel by the hillocks which it raises. Anglo-Saxon, molde, and weorpan. Steevens. So Holinshed, for he was Shakspeare's authority: “This [the division of the realm between Mortimer, Glendower, and Percy,] was done (as some have sayde) through a foolish credite given to a vaine prophecie, as though king Henry was the molde-warpe, cursed of God's owne mouth, and they three were the dragon, the lion, and the wolfe, which should divide this realm between them.” Malone.

Note return to page 690 “Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies.” [As I may in some measure consider myself as classed among the commentators on Shakspeare, however humble may be my rank, I am proud to announce that the following note will enable us to enroll my friend Sir Walter Scott in our fraternity. Boswell.] “The supposed prophecies of Merlin formed the stock upon which those who undertook alterations in the state, usually founded the predictions which they circulated amongst the people, to prepare men's minds for the intended change. The most complete account of those to which Hotspur alludes in the text, occurs in a manuscript of those historical documents usually called Caxton's Chronicles, because first printed by the father of the English press. It is well known to antiquaries, that manuscripts of these Chronicles are not unfrequent, and that they differ in tenor and in date, some coming as far down as the reign of Henry V.; others stopping much earlier. THe copy which will be presently alluded to, breaks off immediately after the deposition of Richard II. and concludes with a survey of prophecies obviously designed to favour the alliance of Glendower with Mortimer and Percy, and their plan of dividing the kingdom into three parts. Edward III. is shadowed forth as the boar of righteousness; Richard II. as the lambe; Henry as the Moldwarp; and the three conspirators, to whose insurrection success is predicted, as the lyon, wolf, and dragon. The following extract will probably be sufficient to satisfy the reader with this “skimble scamble stuff,” as Hotspur terms it. “And after thys Goote Seyde Merlyon shall com a boore out of Wyndesere that shall be called the Myldyste and the fayriste and most mercyfull Prynce borne and he shall correcte hem that ben untreue and in hys tyme shall thys londe be fullfylled with &wblank; and this boore shall make wolves to becom lambys, and he shall be called throrough oute the worlde the boore of holynes, of nobley of fyersnes, and of mercy, and he shall mesurably do all that he hath to don anone to the burgh of Jerlin. And alse he shall whette hys teethe upon the gatis of Paris, and Spaigne shall tremble for drede of hym. And he shall make Gascoigne for to quake and he shall make medowris rede and he shall gete as much as his ancetryes ded afore hym. And or that he be dede he shall were III crownes and he shall put one londe in subjection and afterwarde hitt shall releved be but not in hys tyme; for his doughtynis he shall be entyred at Coleyne and than shall this londe be fullfilled with all maner of good and after thys Boor (Seyde Merlyon) shall come a lambe that shall have feete of lede and an hede of brass, and an herte of a foxsse and a suynnys skynne and the most party of his reyne the lond shall be in peas. And in the fyrste yere of his regne he shall do make a citte that all the worlde shall spoke thereof. And also thys lambe shall lose in his tyme a grete party of his lond thorough an hydeous woolff but he shall recover hitt agen: he shall take his lordschippes to an egle of his londe wondir welle and worthyly unto the tyme that pryde shall him overcom & he shall dye thoroughe his brothers sworde and afterward shall hys londe be in pes and fullfilled with all manner of gode. And after thys lambe seyed Merlyon shall com a Molwerp accursed of Goddis mouthe a caytiff a coward and he shall have an eldryche skynne as a goote and vengeance shall com upon hym for synne that he shall use and hys londe shall be fullfylled with all manner of goodnes unto tyme that he shall suffir hys people to lyve in gret pryde without chastysynge in gret displesaunce to God and therefore vengeance shall com unto hym. For a dragon shall com oute of the Northe and wer agaynste the foresayde Moldwerp uppon a stone. And thys Dragon shall gadir into his cumpanye a wolffe that shall com oute of the weste, and so shall the dragon and the wolff bynde hir taylis togidir. Than shall a lyon com oute of Irelonde that shall be in companye with hem and than shall the lond tremble that shall be called Inglonde. And alse in that tyme shall many castels falle by the Temys bank and hit shall Teme shall be drye with the bodies that shall fall therin and also the chyff floodis of Inglonde renne with blood and the Moldwerpe shall fle for drede for the Dragon the Lyon and the woolf shall dryve him oute of the londe and the Molwarpe shall have no power save only a shyppe whereto he shall wende and he shall go to londe whan the see is drye and com ageyne and gef the III partyes of his londe for to have the fourthe parte and after that shall the Moldwarpe be drowned in the flood of the see and his seed shall be fadirles for evermore. And than shall the londe be departyed into III partyes oone to the woolf another to the Dragen and the IIId to the Lyon and so shall hitt be for ever. And then shall this londe be called the londe of conqueste and so shall be ryghtful eyris of Inglond be diseryted.” The Manuscript Chronicle from which the above extract was written many years since, was then the property of John Clarke, Esquire, of Eldin, and was afterwards, I believe, presented by him to the present Duke of Hamilton. Walter Scott.

Note return to page 691 1&lblank; skimble-skamble stuff &lblank;] This cant word, formed by reduplication from scamble, occurs likewise in Taylor the water-poet's Description of a Wanton: “Here's a sweet deal of scimble-scamble stuff.” Steevens.

Note return to page 692 2He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,] I have inserted the conjunction—but, which is wanting in the ancient copies. Without some such assistance the metre would be defective. Steevens.

Note return to page 693 3In reckoning up the several devils' names,] See Reginald Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, book xv. ch. ii. p. 377, where the reader may find his patience as severely exercised as that of Hotspur, and on the same occasion. Shakspeare must certainly have seen this book. Steevens.

Note return to page 694 4&lblank; go to,] These two senseless monosyllables seem to have been added by some foolish player, purposely to destroy the measure. Ritson.

Note return to page 695 5&lblank; a railing wife; Worse than a smoky house:] Thus Chaucer, in The Wif of Bathe's Prologue: “&lblank; smoke, “And chiding wives maken men to flee “Out of hir owen hous.” Steevens.

Note return to page 696 6&lblank; profited In strange concealments;] Skilled in wonderful secrets. Johnson.

Note return to page 697 7&lblank; too wilful-blame;] This is mode of speech with which I am not acquainted. Perhaps it might be read—“too wilful-blunt,” or “too wilful-bent;” or thus: “Indeed, my lord, you are to blame, too wilful.” Johnson. I suspect that our author wrote— “&lblank; to wilful-blame:” i. e. you are wilfully to blame; the offence you give is meditated, designed. Shakspeare has several compounds in which the first adjective has the power of an adverb. Thus, (as Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed,) in King Richard III. we meet with childish-foolish, senseless-obstinate, and mortal-staring. Steevens.

Note return to page 698 8&lblank; opinion,] Means here self-opinion, or conceit. M. Mason.

Note return to page 699 9&lblank; a peevish self-will'd harlotry,] Capulet, in Romeo and Juliet, reproaches his daughter in the same terms: “A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.” Ritson.

Note return to page 700 1One no persuasion, &c.] A common ellipsis for—“One that no persuasion,” &c. and so the ancient copies redundantly read. Steevens.

Note return to page 701 2Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens,] The defect of harmony in this line, induces me to suppose (with Sir T. Hanmer) that our author originally wrote— “Which thou pour'st down from these two swelling heavens,” meaning her two prominent lips. Steevens. According to Mr. Steevens, swelling heavens are prominent lips. Are they not eyes swollen with tears? Glendower has just said, that his daughter wept; and Mortimer tells his wife that he would answer the melting language of her eyes, if it were not for shame. Douce.

Note return to page 702 3&lblank; a feeling disputation:] i. e. a contest of sensibility, a reciprocation in which we engage on equal terms. Steevens.

Note return to page 703 4Sung by a fair queen, &c.] Our author perhaps here intended a compliment to Queen Elizabeth, who was a performer on the lute and the virginals. See Sir James Melvil's curious account. Memoirs, folio, p. 50. Malone.

Note return to page 704 5With ravishing division, to her lute.] A division, in musick, is a variation of melody upon some given fundamental harmony. Dyer. This verse may serve for a translation of a line in Horace: &lblank; grataque fœminis Imbelli cithara carmina divides. It is to no purpose that you (Paris) please the women by singing “with ravishing division,” to the harp. See the Commentators, and Vossius on Catullus, p. 239. S. W. Divisions were very uncommon in vocal musick during the time of Shakspeare. Burney.

Note return to page 705 6Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.] We might read, to complete the verse: “Nay, if you melt, why then will she run mad.” Steevens.

Note return to page 706 7O, I am ignorance itself in this.] Massinger uses the same expression in The Unnatural Combat, 1639: “&lblank; in this you speak, sir, “I am ignorance itself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 707 8She bids you Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,] It was the custom in this country, for many ages, to strew the floors with rushes, as we now cover them with carpets. Johnson. I have followed the old copies. Mr. Seevens reads: “&lblank; she bids you “Upon the wanton rushes lay you down.” We have some other lines in these plays as irregular as this. Malone. We have; but there is the strongest reason for supposing such irregularities arose from the badness of the playhouse copies, or the carelessness of printers. Steevens.

Note return to page 708 9And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,] The expression is fine; intimating, that the god of sleep should not only sit on his eyelids, but that he should sit crowned, that is, pleased and delighted. Warburton. The same image (whatever idea it was meant to convey) occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster: “&lblank; who shall take up his lute, “And touch it till he crown a silent sleep “Upon my eyelid.” Again, in Chapman's version of the ninth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; Sleep, with all crowns crown'd, “Subdu'd the savage.” Steevens. The image is certainly a strange one; but I do not suspect any corruption of the text. The god of sleep is not only to sit on Mortimer's eyelids, but to sit crowned, that is, with sovereign dominion. So, in Twelfth Night: “Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, “Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.” Again, in our poet's 114th Sonnet: “Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, “Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit, “For 'tis a throne, where honour may be crown'd “Sole monarch of the universal earth.” Again, in King Henry V.: “As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, “Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.” Malone.

Note return to page 709 1Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,] She will lull you by her song into soft tranquillity, in which you shall be so near to sleep as to be free from perturbation, and so much awake as to be sensible of pleasure; a state partaking of sleep and wakefulness, as the twilight of night and day. Johnson.

Note return to page 710 2&lblank; our book,] Our paper of conditions. Johnson.

Note return to page 711 3And those musicians that shall play to you, Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence; And straight they shall be here:] Glendower had before boasted that he could call spirits from the vasty deep; he now pretends to equal power over the spirits of the air. Sir, says he to Mortimer, and, by my power, you shall have heavenly musick. The musicians that shall play to you, now hang in the air a thousand miles from the earth: I will summon them, and they shall straight be here. “And straight” is the reading of the most authentick copies, the quarto 1598, and the folio 1623, and indeed of all the other ancient editions. Mr. Rowe first introduced the reading—Yet straight, which all the subsequent editors have adopted; but the change does not seem absolutely necessary. Malone.

Note return to page 712 4Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.] I do not plainly see what is a woman's fault. Johnson. “It is a woman's fault,” is spoken ironically. Farmer. This is a proverbial expression. I find it in The Birth of Merlin, 1662: “'Tis a woman's fault: p&wblank; of this bashfulness.” Again: “A woman's fault, we are subject to go to it, sir.” Again, in Greene's Planetomachia, 1585: “&lblank; a woman's faulte, to thrust away that with her little finger, whiche they pull to them with both their hands.” I believe the meaning is this: Hotspur having declared his resolution neither to have his head broken, nor to sit still, slily adds, that such is the usual fault of a woman; i. e. never to do what they are bid or desired to do. Steevens. The whole tenor of Hotspur's conversation in this scene shows, that the stillness which he here imputes to women as a fault, was something very different from silence; and that an idea was couched under these words, which may be better understood than explained.—He is still in the Welsh lady's bedchamber. White. Without attempting to penetrate Mr. White's occult meaning, it may be questioned whether there is any ground for supposing that this scene takes place in the Welsh lady's bedchamber. Boswell.

Note return to page 713 5As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.] Open walks and fields near Chiswell-street, London Wall, by Moorgate; the common resort of the citizens, as appears from many of our ancient comedies. I suppose the verse originally (but elliptically) ran thus: “As thou ne'er walk'dst further than Finsbury.” i. e. as if thou ne'er, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 714 6&lblank; such protest of pepper-gingerbread,] i. e. protestations as common as the letters which children learn from an alphabet of ginger-bread. What we now call spice ginger-bread was then called pepper ginger-bread. Steevens. Such protestations as are uttered by the makers of gingerbread. Malone. Hotspur had just told his wife that she “swore like a comfit-maker's wife;” such protests therefore of pepper ginger-bread, as “in sooth,” &c. were to be left to persons of that class. Henley.

Note return to page 715 7&lblank; velvet-guards,] To such as have their clothes adorned with shreds of velvet, which was, I suppose, the finery of cockneys. Johnson. “The cloaks, doublets, &c. (says Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses,) were guarded with velvet-guards, or else laced with costly lace.” Speaking of women's gowns, he adds: they must be guarded with great guards of velvet, every guard four or six fingers broad at the least.” So, in The Malcontent, 1606: “You are in good case since you came to court; garded, garded: “Yes, faith, even footmen and bawds wear velvet.” Velvet guards appear, however, to have been a city fashion. So, in Histriomastix, 1610: “Nay, I myself will wear the courtly grace: “Out on these velvet-guards, and black-lac'd sleeves, “These simp'ring fashions simply followed!” Again: “I like this jewel; I'll have his fellow &lblank;. “How?—you?—what fellow it?—gip, velvet-guards!” Steevens. To “velvet-guards” means, I believe, to “the higher rank of female citizens,” the wives of either merchants or wealthy shopkeepers. It appears from the following passage in The London Prodigal, 1605, that a guarded gown was the best dress of a city lady in the time of our author: “Frances. But, Tom, must I go as I do now, when I am married? “Civet. No, Franke, [i. e. Frances,] I'll have thee go like a citizen, in a garded gown, and a French hood.” Fynes Morison is still more express to the same point, and furnishes us with the best comment on the words before us. Describing the dress of the various orders of the people of England, he says, “At public meetings the aldermen of London weere skarlet gownes, and their wives a close gown of skarlet, with gardes of black velvet.” Itin. fol. 1617, Part III. p. 179. See vol. ix. p. 105, n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 716 8&lblank; 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, &c.] I suppose Percy means, that singing is a mean quality, and therefore he excuses his lady. Johnson. The next way—is the nearest way. So, in Lingua, &c. 1607: “The quadrature of a circle; the philosopher's stone; and the next way to the Indies.” Tailors seem to have been as remarkable for singing, as weavers, of whose musical turn Shakspeare has more than once made mention. Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, speak of this quality in the former: “Never trust a tailor that does not sing at his work; his mind is on nothing but filching.” The Honourable Daines Barrington observes, that “a goldfinch still continues to be called a proud tailor, in some parts of England; (particularly Warwickshire, Shakspeare's native county,) which renders this passage intelligible, that otherwise seems to have no meaning whatsoever.” Perhaps this bird is called a proud tailor, because his plumage is varied like a suit of clothes made out of remnants of different colours, such as a tailor might be supposed to wear. The sense then will be this:—The next thing to singing oneself, is to teach birds to sing, the goldfinch and the robin. I hope the poet meant to inculcate, that singing is a quality destructive to its possessor; and that after a person has ruined himself by it, he may be reduced to the necessity of instructing birds in an art which can render birds alone more valuable. Steevens. One instance may suffice, to shew that next has been rightly interpreted: “&lblank; and when mattens was done, the erles and the lordes went the next way to the deane's place to breckfast.” Ives's Select Papers, 4to. 1773, p. 165. This passage has been interpreted as if the latter member of the sentence were explanatory of the former; but surely they are entirely distinct. The plain meaning is, that he who makes a common practice of singing, reduces himself to the condition either of a tailor, or a teacher of musick to birds. That tailors were remarkable for singing in our author's time, he has himself informed us elsewhere: “Do you make an alehouse of my lady's house, (says Malvolio in Twelfth-Night,) that ye squeak out your coziers' catches, without any mitigation or remorse of voice?” Malone.

Note return to page 717 9&lblank; our book's drawn;] i. e. our articles. Every composition, whether play, ballad, or history, was called a book, on the registers of ancient publications. Steevens. It is more material to observe that patents, grants, covenants, articles, &c. when in MS. were called books. That printed plays, ballads, or histories, should be called books is not at all strange. Malone.

Note return to page 718 1Must have some conference: But be near at hand,] The old copies redundantly read—some private conference; but, as the lords were dismissed on this occasion, they would naturally infer that privacy was the King's object. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 2For some displeasing service &lblank;] Service for action, simply. Warburton.

Note return to page 720 3&lblank; in thy passages of life,] i. e. in the passages of thy life. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 4&lblank; such lewd, such mean attempts,] Mean attempts, are mean, unworthy undertakings. Lewd does not in this place barely signify wanton, but idle, ignorant, or licentious. So, Ben Jonson, in his Poetaster: “&lblank; great actions may be su'd “'Gainst such as wrong men's fames with verses lewd.” And again, in Volpone: “&lblank; they are most lewd impostors, “Made all of terms and shreds.” This epithet is likewise employed to describe a lay or an ignorant character, as in the following instance: “He spared nether lewde nor clerke.” Romance of the Sowdon, &c. MS. Steevens. The word is thus used in many of our ancient statutes. Malone.

Note return to page 722 5Yet such extenuation let me beg, &c.] The construction is somewhat obscure. Let me beg so much extenuation, that upon confutation of many false charges, I may be pardoned some that are true. I should read on reproof, instead of in reproof; but concerning Shakspeare's particles there is no certainty. Johnson.

Note return to page 723 6As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,] Reproof here means disproof. M. Mason.

Note return to page 724 7&lblank; pick-thanks,] i. e. officious parasites. So, in the tragedy of Mariam, 1613: “Base pick-thank devil &lblank;.” Steevens. Again, in Euphues, 1587: “I should seeme either to picke a thanke with men, or a quarrel with women.” Henderson.

Note return to page 725 8Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,] The Prince was removed from being President of the Council, immediately after he struck the judge. Steevens. Our author has, I believe, here been guilty of an anachronism. The prince's removal from council in consequence of his striking the Lord Chief Justice Gascoigne, was some years after the battle of Shrewsbury (1403). His brother, Thomas Duke of Clarence, was appointed President of the Council in his room, and he was not created a duke till the 13th year of King Henry IV. (1411). Malone.

Note return to page 726 9&lblank; loyal to possession:] True to him that had then possession of the crown. Johnson.

Note return to page 727 1And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,] This is an allusion to the story of Prometheus's theft, who stole fire from thence; and as with this he made a man, so with that Bolingbroke made a king. As the gods were supposed jealous in appropriating reason to themselves, the getting fire from thence, which lighted it up in the mind, was called a theft; and as power is their prerogative, the getting courtesy from thence, by which power is best procured, is called a theft. The thought is exquisitely great and beautiful. Warburton. Massinger has adopted this expression in The great Duke of Florence: “&lblank; Giovanni, “A prince in expectation, when he liv'd here, “Stole courtesy from heaven; and would not to “The meanest servant in my father's house “Have kept such distance.” Steevens. Dr. Warburton's explanation of this passage appears to me very questionable. The poet had not, I believe, a thought of Prometheus or the heathen gods, nor indeed was courtesy (even understanding it to signify affability) the characteristick attribute of those deities.—The meaning, I apprehend, is,—‘I was so affable and popular, that I engrossed the devotion and reverence of all men to myself, and thus defrauded Heaven of its worshippers.’ Courtesy may be here used for the respect and obeisance paid by an inferior to a superior. So, in this play: “To dog his heels and court'sy at his frowns.” In Act V. it is used for a respectful salute, in which sense it was applied formerly to men as well as women: “I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, “That he shall shrink under my courtesy.” Again, in the History of Edward IV. annexed to Hardynge's Chronicle, 1543: “which thyng if I could have forsene,—I would never have wonne the courtisies of men's knees with the loss of so many heades.” This interpretation is strengthened by the two subsequent lines, which contain a kindred thought: “And dress'd myself in such humility, “That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts.” Henry, I think, means to say, that he robbed heaven of its worship, and the king of the allegiance of his subjects. Malone. Mr. Gifford, in a note on the passage which Mr. Steevens has quoted from Massinger's Great Duke of Florence, has the following observations: “This is from Shakspeare, and the plain meaning of the phrase is, that the affability and sweetness of Giovanni were of a heavenly kind, i. e. more perfect than was usually found among men, resembling that divine condescension which excludes more from its regard, and, therefore, immediately derived or stolen from heaven, from whence all good proceeds. In this there is no impropriety: common usage warrants the application of the term to a variety of actions, which imply nothing of turpitude, but rather the contrary; affections are stolen.—In a word, to steal, here, and in many other places, means little else than to win by imperceptible progression, by gentle violence, &c.” Boswell.

Note return to page 728 2That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,] Apparently copied from Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, written before 1593: “The pope shall send his bulls through all thy realm, “And pull obedience from thy subjects' hearts.” In another place, in the same play, we meet with the phrase used here: “&lblank; Then here upon my knees “I pluck allegiance from her.” Malone.

Note return to page 729 3My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at:] So, in our author's 52d Sonnet: “Or as the wardrobe, which the robe doth hide, “To make some special instant special-blest, “By new unfolding his imprison'd, pride.” Malone.

Note return to page 730 4&lblank; rash bavin wits,] Rash, is heady, thoughtless: bavin, is brushwood, which, fired, burns fiercely, but is soon out. Johnson. So, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “Bavins will have their flashes, and youth their fancies, the one as soon quenched as the other burnt.” Again, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1606: “Love is like a bavin, but a blaze.” Steevens. Rash is, I believe, fierce, violent. So, in King Richard II.: “His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last.” In Shakspeare's time bavin was used for kindling fires. See Florio's Second Frutes, 4to. 1591, ch. i.: “There is no fire.— Make a little blaze with a bavin.” Malone.

Note return to page 731 5&lblank; carded his state;] Dr. Warburton supposes that carded or 'scarded, (for so he would read,) means discarded, threw it off. Malone. The metaphor seems to be taken from mingling coarse wool with fine, and carding them together, whereby the value of the latter is diminished. The King means, that Richard mingled and carded together his royal state with capering fools, &c. A subsequent part of the speech gives a sanction to this explanation: “For thou hast lost thy princely privilege “With vile participation.” To card, is used by other writers for to mix. So, in The Tamer Tamed, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “But mine is such a drench of balderdash, “Such a strange carded cunningness.” Again, in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier, 1620: “&lblank; you card your beer, (if you see your guests begin to get drunk,) half small, half strong,” &c. Again, in Nashe's Have With You to Saffron Walden, &c. 1596: “&lblank; he being constrained to betake himself to carded ale.” Shakspeare has a similar thought in All's Well that Ends Well: “The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.” The original hint for this note I received from Mr. Tollet. Steevens. Mr. Steevens very rightly supports the old reading. The word is used by Shelton, in his translation of Don Quixote. The Tinker in the introduction to The Taming of the Shrew, was by education a cardmaker. Farmer. To card does not mean to mix coarse wool with fine, as Mr. M. Mason has justly observed, but simply to work wool with a card or teazel, so as to prepare it for spinning. Malone. By carding his state, the King means that his predecessor set his consequence to hazard, played it away (as a man loses his fortune) at cards. Ritson.

Note return to page 732 6&lblank; capering fools;] Thus the quarto 1598, and rightly, I believe, because such a reading requires no explanation. The other copies, however, have—carping. Steevens. Carping is jesting, prating, &c. This word had not yet acquired the sense which it bears in modern speech. Chaucer says of his Wife of Bath, Prol. 470: “In felawship wele could she laugh and carpe.” T. Warton. The verb, to carp, is whimsically used by Phaer in his version of the first book of the Æneid: &lblank; cithara crinitus Iopas “Personat aurata. “&lblank; and on his golden harp “Iopas with his bushie locks in sweete song gan to carpe.” Steevens. In the second quarto, printed in 1599, capering was changed into carping, and that word was transmitted through all the subsequent quartos. Hence, it is also the reading of the folio, which appears to have been printed from the quarto of 1613. Had all the quartos read capering, and the folio carping, the latter reading might derive some strength from the authority of that copy; but the change having been made arbitrarily, or by chance, in 1599, it has no pretensions of that kind. It may be further observed, that “capering fools” were very proper companions for a “skipping king;” and that Falstaff in the second part of this play, boasts of his being able to caper, as a proof of his youth: “To approve my youth further I will not; the truth is, I am old in judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks,” &c. Carping undoubtedly might also have been used with propriety; having had in our author's time the same signification as at present; though it has been doubted. Minsheu explains it in his Dict. 1617, thus: “To taunt, to find fault with, or bite with words.” It is observable that in the original copy the word capring is exhibited without an apostrophe, according to the usual practice of that time. So, in Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1598: “Whereat the saphir-visag'd god grew proud, “And made his capring Triton sound aloud.” The original reading is also strongly confirmed by Henry's description of the capering fools, who, he supposes, will immediately after his death flock round his son: “Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum; “Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, “Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit “The oldest sins the newest kind of way,” &c. Capering, I apprehend, is not used, in its literal sense, to signify dancing, but metaphorically. So, Sir William Cornwallyes, in his Essayes: “We of these latter times full of a nice curiosity, mislike all the performances of our forefathers; we say they were honest plaine men, but they wanted the capring wits of this ripe age.” So also, in Cynthia's Revels, Act II. Sc. I.: “Though you can presume upon the easiness and dexterity of your wit, you shall give me leave to be a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to hazard it after your capering humour.” Boswell.

Note return to page 733 7And gave his countenance, against his name,] Made his presence injurious to his reputation. Johnson. “Against his name” is, I think, parenthetical. He gave his countenance, (to the diminution of his name or character,) to laugh, &c. In plain English, he honoured gibing boys with his company, and dishonoured himself by joining in their mirth. Malone. To countenance, or to give countenance to, are common expressions, and mean, to patronize or encourage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 734 8To laugh at gibing boys,] i. e. at the jests of gibing boys. Malone.

Note return to page 735 9Of every beardless vain comparative;] Of every boy whose vanity incited him to try his wit against the King's. When Lewis XIV. was asked, why, with so much wit, he never attempted raillery, he answered, that he who practised raillery ought to bear it in his turn, and that to stand the butt of raillery was not suitable to the dignity of a king. Scudery's Conversation. Johnson. Comparative, I believe, is equal, or rival in any thing; and may therefore signify, in this place,—every one who thought himself on a level with the Prince. So, in the second of The Four Plays in One, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; Gerrard ever was “His full comparative &lblank;.” Steevens. I believe comparative means here, one who affects wit, a dealer in comparisons. “The most comparative prince” has already occurred in the play before us; and the following passage in Love's Labour's Lost, is yet more apposite in support of this interpretation: “&lblank; The world's large tongue “Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks “Full of comparisons, and wounding flouts.” Malone.

Note return to page 736 1Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:] To enfeoff is a law term, signifying to invest with possession. So in the old comedy of Wily Beguiled: “I protested to enfeoffe her in forty pounds a year.” Steevens. Gave himself up absolutely and entirely to popularity. A feofment was the ancient mode of conveyance, by which all lands in England were granted in fee-simple for several ages, till the conveyance of Lease and Release was invented by Serjeant Moor, about the year 1630. Every deed of feofment was accompanied with livery of seisin, that is, with the delivery of corporal possession of the land or tenement granted in fee. Malone.

Note return to page 737 2That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,] Nearly the same expression occurs in A Warning for Faire Women, a tragedy, 1599: “The people's eyes have fed them with my sight.” Malone.

Note return to page 738 3As cloudy men use to their adversaries;] Strada, in his imitation of Statius, describing the look thrown by the German on his Portuguese antagonist, has the same expression: Lusiademque tuens, et amaro nubilus ore &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 739 4And in that very line, Harry, standest thou:] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “In this predicament, I say, thou stand'st.” Steevens.

Note return to page 740 5For all the world,] Sir T. Hanmer, to complete the verse, reads— “Harry, for all the world &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 741 6He hath more worthy interest to the state, Than thou, the shadow of succession:] This is obscure. I believe the meaning is—Hotspur hath a right to the kingdom more worthy than thou, who hast only the shadowy right of lineal succession, while he has real and solid power. Johnson. Rather,—He better deserves to inherit the kingdom than thyself, who art intitled by birth to that succession of which thy vices render thee unworthy. Ritson. To have an interest to any thing, is not English. If we read, “He hath more worthy interest in the state,” the sense would be clear, and agreeable to the tenor of the rest of the King's speech. M. Mason. I believe the meaning is only, he hath more popularity in the realm, more weight with the people, than thou the heir apparent to the throne.— “From thy succession bar me, father; I “Am heir to my affection &lblank;” says Florizel, in The Winter's Tale. We should now write—in the state, but there is no corruption in the text. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; he is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly.” Malone.

Note return to page 742 7Capitulate &lblank;] i. e. make head. So, to articulate, in a subsequent scene, is to form articles. Steevens. Rather, combine, confederate, indent. To capitulate is to draw up any thing in heads or articles. Johnson's Dictionary. Ritson. To capitulate, Minsheu explains thus: “&lblank; per capita seu articulos pacisci;” and nearly in this sense, I believe, it is used here. The Percies, we are told by Walsingham, sent about letters containing three articles, or principal grievances, on which their rising was founded; and to this perhaps our author alludes. Malone.

Note return to page 743 8&lblank; dearest &lblank;] Dearest is most fatal, most mischievous. Johnson.

Note return to page 744 9And stain my favours in a bloody mask,] We should read —favour, i. e. countenance. Warburton. Favours are features. Johnson. I am not certain that favours, in this place, means features, or that the plural number of favour in that sense is ever used. I believe favours mean only some decoration usually worn by knights in their helmets, as a present from a mistress, or a trophy from an enemy. So, afterwards, in this play: “But let my favours hide thy mangled face:” where the Prince must have meant his scarf. Again, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Aruns, these crimson favours, for thy sake, “I'll wear upon my forehead mask'd with blood.” Steevens. Steevens's explanation of this passage appears to be right. The word garment, in the preceding line, seems to confirm it. M. Mason. I think Johnson is clearly right. Mask can have no meaning as applied to decoration or garment. In Heywood, as here, the mask is the blood upon his forehead. Favours is used for features in Richard II. p. 131: “&lblank; Yet I well remember “The favours of these men.” Boswell.

Note return to page 745 1&lblank; cancels all bands;] i. e. bonds, for thus the word was anciently spelt. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My master is arrested on a band.” Shakspeare has the same allusion in Macbeth: “Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond,” &c. Again, in Cymbeline: “And cancel these cold bonds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 746 2So hath the business that I come to speak of.] So also the business that I come to speak of, hath speed; i. e. requires immediate attention and dispatch. Mr. Pope changed hath to is, and the alteration has been adopted, in my opinion, unnecessarily, by the subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 747 3Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,] There was no such person as Lord Mortimer of Scotland; but there was a Lord March of Scotland, (George Dunbar,) who having quitted his own country in disgust, attached himself so warmly to the English, and did them such signal services in their wars with Scotland, that the Parliament petitioned the King to bestow some reward on him. He fought on the side of Henry in this rebellion, and was the means of saving his life at the battle of Shrewsbury, as is related by Holinshed. This, no doubt, was the lord whom Shakspeare designed to represent in the act of sending friendly intelligence to the King.—Our author had a recollection that there was in these wars a Scottish lord on the King's side, who bore the same title with the English family, on the rebel side, (one being the Earl of March in England, the other, Earl of March in Scotland,) but his memory deceived him as to the particular name which was common to both. He took it to be Mortimer instead of March. Steevens.

Note return to page 748 4Advantage feeds him fat,] i. e. feeds himself. Malone. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him “No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.” Steevens.

Note return to page 749 5&lblank; my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown;] Pope has in The Dunciad availed himself of this idea: “In a dun night-gown of his own loose skin.” Malone.

Note return to page 750 6&lblank; while I am in some liking;] While I have some flesh, some substance. We have had well-liking in the same sense in Love's Labour's Lost, vol. iv. p. 418: “Well liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.” Malone. So, in the Book of Job, xxxix. 4: “&lblank; their young ones are in good liking.” Thus also P. Holland, in his translation of the eleventh book of Pliny's Natural History: “&lblank; when they be well liking, the heart hath a kind of fat in the utmost tip thereof.” Steevens.

Note return to page 751 7&lblank; a brewer's horse:] I suppose a brewer's horse was apt to be lean with hard work. Johnson. A brewer's horse does not, perhaps, mean a dray-horse, but the cross-beam on which beer-barrels are carried into cellars, &c. The allusion may be to the taper form of this machine. A brewer's horse, however, is mentioned in Aristippus, or The Jovial Philosopher, 1630: “&lblank; to think Helicon a barrel of beer, is as great a sin as to call Pegasus a brewer's horse.” Steevens. The commentators seem not to be aware, that, in assertions of this sort, Falstaff does not mean to point out any similitude to his own condition, but, on the contrary, some striking dissimilitude. He says here, “I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse;” just as in Act II. Sc. IV. he asserts the truth of several parts of his narrative, on pain of being considered as “a rogue—a Jew—an Ebrew Jew—a bunch of raddish—a horse.” Tyrwhitt. That Falstaff was unlike a brewer's horse, may be collected from a conundrum which I found in The Devil's Cabinet Opened: “What is the difference between a drunkard and a brewer's horse? Because the one carries all his liquor on his back, and the other in his belly?” But malt-horse, which is the same thing, was a common term of reproach in our author's time. So, in the Comedy of Errors, vol. iv. p. 192: “Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch.” So, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, Gifford's edit. vol. i. p. 36: “Why he has no more judgment than a malt-horse.” Again, in Bartholomew Fair, vol. iv. p. 431: “I did not tell you of his fables, I, no, no, I am a dull malt-horse, I, I know nothing.” Boswell.

Note return to page 752 8&lblank; the inside of a church!] The latter words (“the inside of a church!”) were, I suspect, repeated by the mistake of the compositor. Or Falstaff may be here only repeating his former words—“The inside of a church!”—without any connection with the words immediately preceding. My first conjecture appears to me the most probable. Malone.

Note return to page 753 9&lblank; Thou art our admiral, &c.] Decker, in his Wonderful Yeare, 1603, has the same thought. He is describing the Host of a country inn: “An antiquary might have pickt rare matter out of his nose.—The Hamburghers offered I know not how many dollars for his companie in an East-Indian voyage, to have stoode a nightes in the Poope of their Admirall, onely to save the charges of candles.” Steevens. This appears to have been a very old joke. So, in A Dialogue both pleasaunt and pietifull, &c. by Wm. Bulleyne, 1564: “Marie, this friar, though he did rise to the quere by darcke night, he needed no candell, his nose was so redd and brighte; and although he had but little money in store in his purse, yet his nose and cheeks were well set with curral and rubies.” Malone.

Note return to page 754 1&lblank; the knight of the burning lamp.] This is a natural picture. Every man who feels in himself the pain of deformity, however, like this merry knight, he may affect to make sport with it among those whom it is his interest to please, is ready to revenge any hint of contempt upon one whom he can use with freedom. Johnson. The “knight of the burning lamp,” and the “knight of the burning pestle,” are both names invented with a design to ridicule the titles of heroes in ancient romances. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 2&lblank; By this fire:] Here the quartos 1599 and 1608 very profanely add:—“that's God's angel.” This passage is perhaps alluded to in Histriomastrix, 1610, where Asinius says: “By this candle (which is none of God's angels) I remember you started back at sprite and flame.” Mr. Henley, however, observes, that “by the extrusion of the words now omitted, the intended antithesis is lost.” Steevens.

Note return to page 756 3&lblank; thou art a perpetual triumph,] So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “And what now rests but that we spend the time “With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows, “Such as befit the pleasures of the court.” A triumph was a general term for any publick exhibition, such as a royal marriage, a grand procession, &c. &c. which commonly being at night, were attended by multitudes of torch-bearers. Steevens.

Note return to page 757 4&lblank; Thou hast saved me a thousand marks, &c.] This passage stands in need of no explanation; but I cannot help seizing the opportunity to mention that in Shakspeare's time, (long before the streets were illuminated with lamps,) candles and lanthorns to let, were cried about London. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “&lblank; dost roar? thou hast a good rouncival voice to cry lantern and candle light.” Again, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, among the Cries of London: “Lanthorn and candlelight here, “Maid ha' light here. “Thus go the cries,” &c. Again, in King Edward IV. 1626: “No more calling of lanthorn and candlelight.” Again, in Pierce Pennyless's Supplication to the Devil, 1595: “It is said that you went up and down London, crying like a lantern and candleman.” Steevens.

Note return to page 758 5&lblank; good cheap,] Cheap is market, and good cheap therefore is a bon marché. Johnson. So, in Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, 1599: “If this weather hold, we shall have hay good cheap.” Again, in the anonymous play of King Henry V.: “Perhaps thou may'st agree better cheap now.” And again, in these two proverbs: “They buy good cheap that bring nothing home.” “He'll ne'er have thing good cheap that's afraid to ask the price.” Cheap (as Dr. Johnson has observed) is undoubtedly an old word for market. So, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Bevys of Hampton, bl. l. no date: “Tyll he came to the chepe “There he founde many men of a hepe.” From this word, East-cheap, Chep-stow, Cheap-side, &c. are derived; indeed a passage that follows in Syr Bevys may seem to fix the derivation of the latter: “So many men was dead, “The Chepe syde was of blode red.” Steevens.

Note return to page 759 6&lblank; dame Partlet &lblank;] Dame Partlet is the name of the hen in the old story-book of Reynard the Fox; and in Chaucer's tale of The Cock and the Fox, the favourite hen is called dame Pertelote. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 7&lblank; holland of eight shillings an ell.] This has been supposed to be an error, but there is no ground for such a notion. Falstaff's shirts, according to this calculation, would come to about 22s. a piece; and we learn from Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, that the shirt of the meanest man cost at least five shillings. He thus concludes his invective upon this subject: “In so much as I have heard of shirtes that have cost some ten shillynges, some twentie, some fortie, some five pound, some twentie nobles, and (whiche is horrible to heare,) some ten pounde a peece, yea the meanest shirte that commonly is worne of any doest cost a crowne, or a noble at the least; and yet this is scarsly thought fine enough for the simplest person that is.” Malone.

Note return to page 761 6&lblank; by-drinkings,] Drinkings between meals. Dalrymple.

Note return to page 762 7&lblank; What call you rich?] A face set with carbuncles is called a rich face. Legend of Capt. Jones. Johnson.

Note return to page 763 8&lblank; a younker of me?] a younker is a novice, a young inexperienced man easily gulled. So, in Gascoigne's Glass for Government, 1575: “These yonkers shall pay for the rost.” See Spenser's Eclogue on May, and Sir Tho. Smith's Commonwealth of England, book i. ch. xxiii. This contemptuous distinction is likewise very common in the old plays. Thus, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Elder Brother: “I fear he'll make an ass of me, a yonker.” I learn, however, from Smith's Sea-Grammar, 1627, (there was an earlier edition,) that one of the senses of the term— younker, was “the young men” employed “to take in the topsailes.” They are mentioned as distinct characters from the sailors, who “are the ancient men for hoisting the sailes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 764 9&lblank; shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked?] There is a peculiar force in these words. “To take mine ease in mine inne,” was an ancient proverb, not very different in its application from that maxim, “Every man's house is his castle!” for inne originally signified a house or habitation. [Sax. inne, domus, domicilium.] When the word inne began to change its meaning, and to be used to signify a house of entertainment, the proverb, still continuing in force, was applied in the latter sense, as it is here used by Shakspeare: or perhaps Falstaff here humorously puns upon the word inne, in order to represent the wrong done him more strongly. In John Heywood's Works, imprinted at London, 1598, quarto, bl. l. is “a dialogue wherein are pleasantly contrived the number of all the effectual proverbs in our English tongue, &c. together with three hundred epigrams on three hundred proverbs.” In ch. vi. is the following: “Resty welth willeth me the widow to winne, “To let the world wag, and take my ease in mine inne.” And among the epigrams is: [26. Of Ease in an Inne.] “Thou takest thine ease in thine inne so nye thee, “That no man in his inne can take ease by thee.” Otherwise: “Thou takest thine ease in thine inne, but I see, “Thine inne taketh neither ease nor profit by thee.” Now in the first of these distichs the word inne is used in its ancient meaning, being spoken by a person who is about to marry a widow for the sake of a home, &c. In the two last places, inne seems to be used in the sense it bears at present. Percy. Gabriel Harvey, in a MS. note to Speght's Chaucer, says, “Some of Heywood's epigrams are supposed to be the conceits and devices of pleasant sir Thomas More.” Inne, for a habitation, or a recess, is frequently used by Spenser, and other ancient writers. So, in A World toss'd at Tennis, 1620: “These great rich men must take their ease in their inn.” Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “The beggar Irus that haunted the palace of Penelope, would take his ease in his inne, as well as the peeres of Ithaca.” Steevens. I believe inns differed from castles, in not being of so much consequence and extent, and more particularly in not being fortified. So inns of court, and in the universities, before the endowment of colleges. Thus, Trinity college, Cambridge, was made out of and built on the site of several inns. Lort.

Note return to page 765 1&lblank; a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.] This seems to have been the usual price of such a ring about Falstaff's time. In the printed Rolls of Parliament, vol. vi. p. 140, we meet with “A signet of gold, to the value of xl marcs.” Ritson.

Note return to page 766 2&lblank; the prince is a Jack,] This term of contempt occurs frequently in these plays. In The Taming of the Shrew, Katharine calls her musick-master, in derision, a twangling Jack. Malone. This term is likewise met with in Coriolanus, The Merchant of Venice, Cymbeline, &c. &c. but is still so much in use, as scarcely to need exemplification. Steevens.

Note return to page 767 3&lblank; Newgate-fashion?] As prisoners are conveyed to Newgate, fastened two and two together. Johnson. So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1601: “Why then come; we'll walk arm in arm, as though we were leading one another to Newgate.” Reed.

Note return to page 768 4There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; &c.] The propriety of these similes I am not sure that I fully understand. A stewed prune has the appearance of a prune, but has no taste. A drawn fox, that is, an exenterated fox, has the form of a fox without his powers. I think Dr. Warburton's explication wrong, which makes a drawn fox to mean, a fox often hunted; though to draw is a hunter's term for pursuit by the track. My interpretation makes the fox suit better to the prune. These are very slender disquisitions, but such is the task of a commentator. Johnson. Dr. Lodge, in his pamphlet called Wit's Miserie, or the World's Madnesse, 1596, describes a bawd thus: “This is shee that laies wait at all the carriers for wenches new come up to London; and you shall know her dwelling by a dish of stewed prunes in the window; and two or three fleering wenches sit knitting or sowing in her shop.” In Measure for Measure, Act II. the male bawd excuses himself for having admitted Elbow's wife into his house, by saying, “that she came in great with child, and longing for stewed prunes, which stood in a dish,” &c. Slender, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, who apparently wishes to recommend himself to his mistress by a seeming propensity to love as well as war, talks of having measured weapons with a fencing-master for a dish of stewed prunes. In another old dramatick piece entitled, If this be not a Good Play the Devil is in it, 1612, a bravo enters with money, and says, “This is the pension of the stewes, you need not untie it; 'tis stew-money, sir, stewed prune cash, sir.” Among the other sins laid to the charge of the once celebrated Gabriel Harvey, by his antagonist, Nash, “to be drunk with the sirrop or liquor of stewed prunes,” is not the least insisted on. Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, Part II. 1630: “Peace! two dishes of stewed prunes, a bawd and a pander!” Again, in Northward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607, a bawd says, “I will have but six stewed prunes in a dish, and some of mother Wall's cakes; for my best customers are tailors.” Again, in The Noble Stranger, 1640: “&lblank; to be drunk with cream and stewed prunes!—Pox on't, bawdy house fare.” Again, in Decker's Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, 1606: “Nay, the sober Perpetuana-suited Puritane, that dares not (so much as by moone-light) come neare the suburd shadow of a house where they set stewed prunes before you, raps as boldly at the hatch, when he knows Candle-light is within, as if he were a new chosen constable.” The passages already quoted are sufficient to show that a dish of stewed prunes was not only the ancient designation of a brothel, but the constant appendage to it. From A Treatise on the Lues Venerea, written by W. Clowes, one of her majesty's surgeons, 1596, and other books of the same kind, it appears that prunes were directed to be boiled in broth for those persons already infected; and that both stewed prunes and roasted apples were commonly, though unsuccessfully, taken by way of prevention. So much for the infidelity of stewed prunes. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has so fully discussed the subject of stewed prunes, that one can add nothing but the price. In a piece called Banks's Bay Horse in a Trance, 1595, we have “a stock of wenches, set up with their stewed prunes, nine for a tester.” Farmer.

Note return to page 769 5&lblank; a drawn fox;] A drawn fox may be a fox drawn over the ground, to exercise the hounds. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Tamer Tamed: “&lblank; that drawn fox Moroso.” Mr. Heath observes, that “a fox drawn over the ground to leave a scent, and exercise the hounds, may be said to have no truth in it, because it deceives the hounds, who run with the same eagerness as if they were in pursuit of a real fox.” I am not, however, confident that this explanation is right. It was formerly supposed that a fox, when drawn out of his hole, had the sagacity to counterfeit death, that he might thereby obtain an opportunity to escape. For this information I am indebted to Mr. Tollet, who quotes Olaus Magnus, lib. xviii. cap. xxxix.: “Insuper finget se mortuam,” &c. This particular and many others relative to the subtilty of the fox, have been translated by several ancient English writers. Steevens.

Note return to page 770 6&lblank; maid Marian may be, &c.] Maid Marian is a man dressed like a woman, who attends the dancers of the morris. Johnson. In the ancient Songs of Robin Hood frequent mention is made of maid Marian, who appears to have been his concubine. I could quote many passages in my old MS. to this purpose, but shall produce only one: “Good Robin Hood was living then,   “Which now is quite forgot, “And so was fayre maid marian,” &c. Percy. It appears from the old play of The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601, that maid Marian was originally a name assumed by Matilda the daughter of Robert Lord Fitzwater, while Robin Hood remained in a state of outlawry: “Next 'tis agreed (if therto shee agree) “That faire Matilda henceforth change her name; “And while it is the chance of Robin Hoode “To live in Sherewodde a poore outlawes life, “She by maide Marian's name be only call'd. “Mat. I am contented; reade on, little John: “Henceforth let me be nam'd maide Marian.” This lady was poisoned by King John at Dunmow Priory, after he had made several fruitless attempts on her chastity. Drayton has written her legend. Shakspeare speaks of maid Marian in her degraded state, when she was represented by a strumpet or a clown. See Figure 2, in the plate at the end of this play, with Mr. Tollet's observation on it. Steevens. Maid Marian seems to have been the lady of a Whitsun-ale, or morris-dance. The Widow, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Love and Honour, (p. 247,) says: “I have been Mistress Marian in a Maurice ere now.” Morris is, indeed, there spelt wrong; the dance was not so called from prince Maurice, but from the Spanish morisco, a dancer of the morris or moorish dance. Hawkins. There is an old piece entitled, Old Meg of Herefordshire for a Mayd-Marian, and Hereford Town for a Morris-dance; or 12 Morris-dancers in Herefordshire, of 1200 Years old. Lond. 1609, quarto. It is dedicated to one Hall, a celebrated Tabourer in that country. T. Warton. A reprint of it was published by Mr. Triphook in 1816. Boswell.

Note return to page 771 7&lblank; neither fish, nor flesh;] So, the proverb: “Neither fish nor flesh, nor good red herring.” Steevens.

Note return to page 772 8&lblank; I pray God, my girdle break!] Alluding to the old adage —“ungirt, unblest.” Thus, in The Phantastick Age, bl. l. an ancient ballad: “Ungirt, unblest, the proverbe sayes;   “And they, to prove it right, “Have got a fashion now adayes   “That's odious to the sight; “Like Frenchmen, all on points they stand,   “No girdles now they wear,” &c. Perhaps this ludicrous imprecation is proverbial. So, in 'Tis Merry when Gossips Meet, a poem, 4to. 1609: “How say'st thou, Besse? shall it be so, girle? speake: “If I make one, pray God my girdle break!” Steevens. This wish had more force formerly than at present, it being once the custom to wear the purse hanging by the girdle; so that its breaking, if not observed by the wearer, was a serious matter. Malone.

Note return to page 773 9&lblank; impudent, embossed rascal,] Embossed is swoln, puffy. Johnson. So, in King Lear: “A plague-sore, or embossed carbuncle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 1&lblank; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, &c.] As the pocketing of injuries was a common phrase, I suppose, the Prince calls the contents of Falstaff's pocket—injuries. Steevens.

Note return to page 775 2&lblank; you will lot pocket up wrong:] Some part of this merry dialogue seems to have been lost. I suppose Falstaff in pressing the robbery upon his hostess, had declared his resolution not to pocket up wrongs or injuries, to which the Prince alludes. Johnson.

Note return to page 776 3&lblank; do it with unwashed hands too.] i. e. do it immediately, or the first thing in the morning, even without staying to wash your hands. So, in The More the Merrier, a collection of Epigrams, 1608: “&lblank; as a school-boy dares “Fall to ere wash'd his hands, or said his prayers.” Perhaps, however, Falstaff alludes to the ancient adage:—“Illotis manibus tractare sacra.” I find the same expression in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “Why be these holy thynges to be medled with with unwashed hands?” Steevens. I cannot accede to this explanation. It appears to me, that Falstaff means to say, do it without retracting, or repenting of it. When a man is unwilling to engage in a business proposed to him, or to go all lengths in it, it is a common expression to say,— I wash my hands of it: and in the Gospel of St. Matthew, we find that when Pilate was forced to condemn Christ by the tumult of the multitude, “he took water, and washed his hands, saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person.” And in King Richard III. the second Murderer says: “&lblank; a bloody deed! “How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands “Of this most grievous guilty murder done.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 777 4&lblank; Poins, to horse,] I cannot but think that Peto is again put for Poins. I suppose the old copy had only a P&wblank;. We have Peto afterwards, not riding with the Prince, but Lieutenant to Falstaff. Johnson. I have adopted Dr. Johnson's emendation, Steevens. The old copies read—“Go, Peto, to horse.” In further support of Dr. Johnson's emendation, it may be observed, that Poins suits the metre of the line, which would be destroyed by a word of two syllables. Malone. I am inclined to think, with Mr. Douce, that this speech, from the commencement, to the words “at two o'clock i' the afternoon,” was intended for prose. Boswell.

Note return to page 778 5&lblank; the Douglas &lblank;] This expression is frequent in Holinshed, and is always applied by way of pre-eminence to the head of the Douglas family. Steevens.

Note return to page 779 6&lblank; I defy The tongues of soothers;] To defy means here to disdain. M. Mason.

Note return to page 780 7But I will beard him.] To beard is to oppose face to face in a hostile or daring manner. So, in Drayton's Quest of Cynthia: “That it with woodbine durst compare “And beard the eglantine.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; met them dareful, beard to beard.” Again, in Chapman's version of the first Iliad: “&lblank; or in this proud kind bear “Their beards against me.” This phrase, which soon lost its original signification, appears to have been adopted from romance. In ancient language, to head a man, was to cut off his head, and to beard him, signified to cut off his beard; a punishment which was frequently inflicted by giants on such unfortunate princes as fell into their hands. So, Drayton, in his Polyolbion, Song 4: “And for a trophy brought the giant's coat away, “Made of the beards of kings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 781 8'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, In such a justling time?] Epaminondas, being told, on the evening before the battle of Leuctra, that an officer of distinction had died in his tent, exclaimed, “Good gods! how could any body find time to die in such a conjuncture.” Xenophon. Hellenic. lib. vi. p. 596. Blakeway.

Note return to page 782 9Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.] The old copies—“not I my mind,” and—“not I his mind.” Steevens. The line should be read and divided thus: “Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I. “Hot. His mind!” Hotspur had asked, “who leads his powers?” The Messenger answers, “His letters bear his mind.” The other replies, “His mind!” As much as to say, I enquire not about his mind, I want to know where his powers are. This is natural, and perfectly in character. Warburton. The earliest quarto, 1598, reads—“not I my mind;”—the compositor having inadvertently repeated the word mind, which had occurred immediately before; an error which often happens at the press. The printer of the third quarto, in 1604, not seeing how the mistake had arisen, in order to obtain some sense, changed my to his, reading, “not I his mind,” which was followed in all the subsequent ancient editions. The present correction, which is certainly right, was made by Mr. Capell. In two of the other speeches spoken by the Messenger, he uses the same language, nor is it likely that he should address Hotspur, without this mark of respect. In his first speech the Messenger is interrupted by the impetuosity of the person whom he addresses, to whom, it may be supposed, he would otherwise have there also given his title. Malone. I have followed Mr. Malone in printing this first speech with a break after—father &lblank;. At the same time I suspect that the word—come, which deprives the sentence of all pretensions to harmony, was a playhouse interpolation, and that the passage originally ran as follows: “These letters from your father &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 783 9&lblank; that inward sickness &lblank;] A line, probably, has here been lost. Malone. I suspect no omission. Hotspur is abruptly enumerating the principal topicks of the letter he has before him. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 1On any soul remov'd,] On any less near to himself; on any whose interest is remote. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “It wafts you to a more removed ground.” Malone. So, in As You Like It: “Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.” Steevens.

Note return to page 785 2&lblank; no quailing now;] To quail is to languish, to sink into dejection. So, in Cymbeline: “For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits “Quail to remember &lblank;.” Perhaps from the timid caution occasionally practised by the bird of that name. So, in Chaucer's Clerke's Tale: “And thou shalt make him couche as doth a quaille.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 3&lblank; for therein should we read The very bottom and the soul of hope; The very list, the very utmost bound Of all our fortunes,] To read the bottom and the soul of hope, and the bound of fortune, though all the copies, and all the editors, have received it, surely cannot be right. I can think on no other word than risque: “&lblank; therein should we risque “The very bottom,” &c. The list is the selvage; figuratively, the utmost line of circumference, the utmost extent. If we should with less change read rend, it will only suit with list, not with soul or bottom. Johnson. I believe the old reading to be the true one. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; we then should see the bottom “Of all our fortunes.” Steevens. I once wished to read—tread, instead of read; but I now think, there is no need of alteration. To read a bound is certainly a very harsh phrase, but not more so than many others of Shakspeare. At the same time that the bottom of their fortunes should be displayed, its circumference or boundary would be necessarily exposed to view. Sight being necessary to reading, to read is here used, in Shakspeare's licentious language, for to see. The passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from King Henry VI. strongly confirms this interpretation. To it may be added this in Romeo and Juliet: “Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, “Which sees into the bottom of my grief?” And this in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; and it concerns me “To look into the bottom of my place.” One of the phrases in the text is found in Twelfth Night: “She is the list of my voyage.” The other [the soul of hope] occurs frequently in our author's plays, as well as in those of his contemporaries. Thus, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, we find— “the soul of counsel;” and in Troilus and Cressida—“the soul of love.” So also, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion: “&lblank; Your desperate arm “Hath almost thrust quite through the heart of hope.” Malone.

Note return to page 787 4Where now remains &lblank;] Where is, I think, used here for whereas. It is often used with that signification by our author and his contemporaries. Malone. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Act I. Sc. I.: “Where now you are both a father and a son.” Steevens.

Note return to page 788 5We may boldly spend upon the hope of what Is to come in:] Read: “We now may boldly spend, upon the hope “Of what is to come in.” Ritson.

Note return to page 789 6A comfort of retirement &lblank;] A support to which we may have recourse. Johnson.

Note return to page 790 7The quality and hair of our attempt &lblank;] The hair seems to be the complexion, the character. The metaphor appears harsh to us, but, perhaps, was familiar in our author's time. We still say something is against the hair, as against the grain, that is, against the natural tendency. Johnson. In an old comedy called The Family of Love, I meet with an expression which very well supports Dr. Johnson's explanation: “&lblank; They say I am of the right hair, and indeed they may stand to't.” Again, in The Coxcomb, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; since he will be “An ass against the hair.” Steevens. This word is used in the same sense in the old interlude of Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1598: “But I bridled a colt of a contrarie haire.” Malone. Perhaps hair is put for air, outward appearance. See a note on Macbeth, vol. xi. p. 204. Boswell.

Note return to page 791 8&lblank; we of the offering side &lblank;] All the latter editions read —offending, but all the older copies which I have seen, from the first quarto to the edition of Rowe, read—“we of the off'ring side.” Of this reading the sense is obscure, and therefore the change has been made; but since neither offering nor offending are words likely to be mistaken, I cannot but suspect that offering is right, especially as it is read in the copy of 1599, which is more correctly printed than any single edition, that I have yet seen, of a play written by Shakspeare. The offering side may signify that party, which, acting in opposition to the law, strengthens itself only by offers; increases its numbers only by promises. The king can raise an army, and continue it by threats of punishment; but those, whom no man is under any obligation to obey, can gather forces only by offers of advantage: and it is truly remarked, that they, whose influence arises from offers, must keep danger out of sight. The offering side may mean simply the assailant, in opposition to the defendant; and it is likewise true of him that offers war, or makes an invasion, that his cause ought to be kept clear from all objections. Johnson. Johnson's last explanation of the word offering, appears to be right. His first is far-fetched and unnatural. M. Mason.

Note return to page 792 9This absence of your father's draws a curtain, That shows the ignorant a kind of fear, &c.] To draw a curtain had anciently the same meaning as to undraw one has at present. So, (says Mr. Malone,) in a stage direction in King Henry VI. Part II. (quarto, 1600,) “Then the curtaines being drawne, Duke Humphrey is discovered in his bed.” Fear, in the present instance, signifies a terrifick object. Steevens.

Note return to page 793 1&lblank; term of fear.] Folio—dream of fear. Malone.

Note return to page 794 2The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales,] Shakspeare rarely bestows his epithets at random. Stowe says of the Prince: “He was passing swift in running, insomuch that he with two other of his lords, without hounds, bow, or other engine, would take a wild buck, or doe, in a large park.” Steevens.

Note return to page 795 3All furnish'd, all in arms, All plum'd like estridges, that wing the wind; Bated like eagles, &c.] The old copies—that with the wind. For the sake of affording the reader a text easily intelligible, I have followed the example of Mr. Malone, by adopting Dr. Johnson's emendation. See the following notes. Steevens. What is the meaning of estridges, ‘that bated with the wind like eagles?’ for the relative that, in the usual construction, must relate to estridges. Sir T. Hanmer reads: “All plum'd like estridges, and with the wind “Bating like eagles.” By which he has escaped part of the difficulty, but has yet left impropriety sufficient to make his reading questionable. I read: “All furnish'd, all in arms, “All plum'd like estridges, that wing the wind “Bated like eagles.” This gives a strong image. They were not only plumed like estridges, but their plumes fluttered like those of an estridge beating the wind with his wings. A more lively representation of young men ardent for enterprize, perhaps no writer has ever given. Johnson. I believe estridges never mount at all, but only run before the wind, opening their wings to receive its assistance in urging them forward. They are generally hunted on horseback, and the art of the hunter is to turn them from the gale, by the help of which they are too fleet for the swiftest horse to keep up with them. I should have suspected a line to have been omitted, had not all the copies concurred in the same reading. In the 22d Song of Drayton's Polyolbion is the same thought: “Prince Edward all in gold, as he great Jove had been: “The Mountfords all in plumes, like estridges, were seen.” Steevens. I have little doubt that instead of with, some verb ought to be substituted here. Perhaps it should be whisk. The word is used by a writer of Shakspeare's age. England's Helicon, sign. Q: “This said, he whisk'd his particoloured wings.” Tyrwhitt. This is one of those passages, in which, in my apprehension, there can be no doubt that there is some corruption, either by the omission of an entire line, or by one word being printed instead of another. The first quarto, which is followed by all the other ancient copies, reads: “All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind, “Bated like eagles having lately bath'd.” From the context, it appears to me evident that two distinct comparisons were here intended, that two objects were mentioned, to each of which the Prince's troops were compared; and that our author could never mean to compare estridges to eagles, a construction which the word with forces us to. In each of the subsequent lines a distinct image is given.—Besides, as Dr. Johnson has remarked, “What is the meaning of estridges that bated with the wind like eagles? for the relative that in the usual construction must relate to estridges.” Mr. Tyrwhitt concurs with me in thinking the old text corrupt. I have therefore adopted the slight alteration proposed by Dr. Johnson—that wing the wind; which gives an easy sense.—The spirit and ardour of the troops are marked by their being compared to eagles in the next line; but the estridges appear to be introduced here, as in the passage quoted above, from Drayton, by Mr. Steevens, solely on account of the soldiers' plumes; and the manner in which those birds are said to move, sufficiently explains the meaning of the words—that wing the wind. If this emendation be not just, and with be the true reading, a line must have been lost, in which the particular movement of the estridge was described. The concurrence of the copies (mentioned by Mr. Steevens in a foregoing note,) militates but little in my mind against the probability of such an omission; for, in general, I have observed, that whenever there is a corruption in one copy, it is continued in every subsequent one. Omission is one of the most frequent errors of the press, and we have undoubted proofs that some lines were omitted in the early editions of these plays. See p. 64, of this volume; and vol. ix. p. 7. See also King Henry VI. Part II. Act III. Sc. IV. where the following line is omitted in the folio, 1623: “Jove sometimes went disguis'd, and why not I?” There is still another objection to the old reading, that I had nearly forgotten. Supposing the expression—“that with the wind bated like eagles”—was defensible, and that these estridges were intended to be compared to eagles, why should the comparison be in the past time? Would it not be more natural to say,—The troops were all plumed like estridges, that, like eagles, bate with the wind, &c. On the whole, I think it most probable that a line, in which the motion of estridges was described, was inadvertently passed over by the transcriber or compositor, when the earliest copy was printed; an error which has indisputably happened in other places in these plays. It is observable, that in this passage, as it stands in the old copy, there is no verb: nothing is predicated concerning the troops. In the lost line, it was very probably said, that they were then advancing. Rather, however, than print the passage with asterisks as imperfect, I have, as the lesser evil, adopted Dr. Johnson's emendation. Mr. Steevens's notes perfectly explain the text as now regulated. I have said that nothing is predicated of these plumed troops, and this is a very strong circumstance to show that a line was omitted, in which they probably were at once described as in motion, and compared (for the sake of their plumage) to ostridges. The omitted line might have been of this import: “All furnish'd, all in arms, “All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind “Run on, in gallant trim they now advance: “Bated like eagles having lately bath'd; “Glittering in golden coats like images, “As full of spirit as the month of May, “And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; “Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.” Malone. “All plum'd like estridges.” All dressed like the Prince himself, the ostrich-feather being the cognizance of the Prince of Wales. Grey. “Bated like eagles having lately bath'd.” To bate is, in the style of falconry, to beat the wing, from the French battre, that is, to flutter in preparation for flight. Johnson. The following passage from David and Bethsabe, 1599, will confirm Dr. Johnson's assertion: “Where all delights sat bating, wing'd with thoughts, “Ready to nestle in her naked breast.” Again, in Greene's Card of Fancy, 1608: “&lblank; made her check at the prey, bate at the lure,” &c. Writers on falconry also often mention the bathing of hawks and eagles, as highly necessary for their health and spirits.—All birds, after bathing, (which almost all birds are fond of,) spread out their wings to catch the wind, and flutter violently with them in order to dry themselves. This, in the falconer's language, is called bating, and by Shakspeare, ‘bating with the wind.’—It may be observed that birds never appear so lively and full of spirits, as immediately after bathing. Steevens. This appears to be justly explained by Steevens. When birds have bathed, they cannot fly until their feathers be disentangled, by bating with the wind. M. Mason. Bated is, I believe, here used for bating, the passive for the active participle; a licence which our author often takes. So, in Othello: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors: “And careful hours with time's deformed hand.” To bate, as appears from Minsheu's Dict. 1617, was originally applied to birds of prey, when they swoop upon their quarry. S'abbatre, se devaller, Fr. Hence it signifies, as Dr. Johnson has explained it, to flutter: “à Gal. batre, (says Minsheu,) i. e. to beat, because she [the hawk] beats herself with unquiet fluttering.” Malone. The evident corruption or mutilation in these lines, has rendered any attempt to explain them a task of great difficulty. It will be necessary in the first place to ascertain the exact sense of the word estridge; and although it is admitted that the ostrich was occasionally so denominated by our old writers, it is by no means certain that this bird is meant in the present instance. It may seem a very obvious comparison between the feathers of a crested helmet and those of the ostrich; and had the expression “plum'd like estridges” stood singly, no doubt whatever could have arisen. It is what follows that occasions the difficulty. The old copies read, “with the wind:” now if the ostrich had been here alluded to, the conjectural substitution of wing would have been absolutely requisite; but the line which follows cannot by any possible construction be made to apply to that bird. It relates altogether to falconry, a sport to which Shakspeare is perpetually referring. Throughout the many observations on these difficult lines, it has been quite overlooked that estridge signifies a goshawk. In this sense the word is used in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. xii. p. 336: “And in that mood [of fury] the dove will peck the estridge.” There is likewise a similar passage in the third part of King Henry VI. which may serve as a commentary on the above line: “So cowards fight, when they can fly no further; “So doves do peck the faulcon's piercing talons.” It would be absurd to talk of a dove pecking an ostrich; the allusion is to the practice of flying falcons at pigeons. Thus Golding, in his translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, fo. 9: “With flittering feather sielie doves so from the gosshawk flie.” The manor of Radeclyve in Nottinghamshire was held by the service of “mewing a goshawk;” in the original charter, “mutandi unum estricium.” In the romance of Guy earl of Warwick, we have: “Estrich falcons, of great mounde.” Falconers are often called ostregers and ostringers in the old books of falconry, and elsewhere. Estridge for ostrich or ostridge is a corrupt spelling that crept into the language at the commencement of Queen Elizabeth's reign, and it appears that after that period the two words were very often confounded together, and used one for the other. The explanation of “to bate,” as cited from Minsheu in one of the notes, cannot apply to ostriches, though it does, very properly, to a bird of prey like the falcon. After all, there is certainly a line lost, as Mr. Malone has very justly and ingeniously conjectured; but the place should rather seem to have been after the word bath'd, than before. The sense of the old copies, as to what remains, will then be tolerably perspicuous: “All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind “Bated, like eagles having lately bath'd &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam;” i. e. plumed like falcons, which, their feathers being ruffled with the wind, like eagles that have recently bathed, make a violent fluttering noise; the words in Italics being here conjecturally offered as something like the sense of the omitted line. Douce. After all, the original reading may admit of defence. It is not uncommon in elliptical language to leave the verb to be understood. Thus, in Macbeth: “Will you to Scone?—No cousin, I'll to Fife.” instead of “Will you go to Scone?” So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “His lordship will next morning for France;” instead of “will set out.” Again, ibid.: “Will you any thing with it?” instead of “Will you have any thing to do with it?” Boswell.

Note return to page 796 “All plumed like estridges that with the wind.” When I attempted to defend the original text, I could not recollect at that time a passage in which the conjunction with was used without a verb in the sense of to go with. I have since found one in Massinger: “Be not so short, sweet lady, I must with you.” A Very Woman. Gifford's edit. vol. iv. p. 275. Boswell.

Note return to page 797 4Glittering in golden coats like images,] This alludes to the manner of dressing up images in the Romish churches on holydays; when they are bedecked in robes very richly laced and embroidered. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book i. ch. iii.: “He was to weet a stout and sturdie thiefe “Wont to robbe churches of their ornaments, &c. “The holy saints of their rich vestiments “He did disrobe,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 798 5I saw young Harry,—with his beaver on,] We should read—“beaver up.” It is an impropriety to say on: for the beaver is only the visiere of the helmet, which, let down, covers the face. When the soldier was not upon action he wore it up, so that his face might be seen. (Hence Vernon says he saw young Harry, &c.) But, when upon action, it was let down to cover and secure the face. Hence, in The Second Part of K. Henry IV. it is said: “Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down.” Warburton. There is no need of all this note; for beaver may be a helmet; or the Prince, trying his armour, might wear his beaver down. Johnson. Dr. Warburton seems not to have observed, that Vernon only says, he saw “young Harry,” not that he saw his face. Malone. Bever and visiere were two different parts of the helmet. The former part let down to enable the wearer to drink, the latter was raised up to enable him to see. Lort. Shakspeare, however, confounded them; for, in Hamlet, Horatio says, that he saw the old king's face, because “he wore his beaver up.” Nor is our poet singular in the use of this word. This was the common signification of the word; for Bullokar in his English Expositor, 1616, defines beaver thus: “In armour it signifies that part of the helmet which may be lifted up, to take breath the more freely.” Malone. The poet is certainly not guilty of the confusion laid to his charge with respect to the passage in Hamlet; for the beaver was as often made to lift up as to let down. Douce. For a more detailed examination of this topick, see the notes at the end of this play. Boswell.

Note return to page 799 6His cuisses on his thighs,] Cuisses, French. Armour for the thighs. Pope. The reason why his cuisses are so particularly mentioned, I conceive to be, that his horsemanship is here praised, and the cuisses are that part of armour which most hinders a horseman's activity. Johnson.

Note return to page 800 7And vaulted &lblank;] The context requires vault, but a word of one syllable will not suit the metre. Perhaps our author wrote— vault it, a mode of phraseology of which there are some examples in these plays. Malone.

Note return to page 801 8To turn and wind a firy Pegasus,] This idea occurs in Have With You to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is up, &c. 1596: “&lblank; her hottest fury may be resembled to the passing of a brave cariere by a Pegasus.” Steevens.

Note return to page 802 9And witch the world &lblank;] For bewitch, charm. Pope. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did.” Steevens.

Note return to page 803 1&lblank; take my horse,] So the folio. The quartos, 1598 and 1599, read—taste. See the note on “taste your legs,” Twelfth-Night, vol. xi. p. 434, n. 9. Boswell.

Note return to page 804 1&lblank; lieutenant Peto &lblank;] This passage proves that Peto did not go with the Prince. Johnson.

Note return to page 805 2&lblank; souced gurnet.] This is a dish mentioned in that very laughable poem called The Counter-scuffle, 1658: “Stuck thick with cloves upon the back, “Well stuff'd with sage, and for the smack, “Daintily strew'd with pepper black, “Souc'd gurnet.” Souced gurnet is an appellation of contempt very frequently employed in the old comedies. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “Punck! you souc'd gurnet!” Again, in the Prologue to Wily Beguiled, 1606: “Out you souced gurnet, you wool-fist!” Among the Cotton MSS. is a part of an old household book for the year 1594. See Vesp. f. xvi.: “Supper. Paid for a gurnard, viii. d.” Steevens. A gurnet is a fish very nearly resembling a piper. It should seem from one of Taylor's pieces, entitled A Bawd, 12mo. 1635, that a sowced gurnet was sometimes used in the same metaphorical sense in which we now frequently use the word gudgeon: “Though she [a bawd] live after the flesh, all is fish that comes to the net with her;—She hath baytes for all kinde of frye: a great lord is her Greenland whale; a countrey gentleman is her cods-head; a rich citizen's son is her sows'd gurnet, or her gudgeon.” Malone.

Note return to page 806 3&lblank; I have misused the king's press damnably.] Thus, in the Voyage to Cadiz, 1597. [See Hakluyt, vol. i. p. 607.] “&lblank; about the 28 of the said moneth, a certaine Lieutenant was degraded and cashierd, &c. for the taking of money by the way of corruption of certaine prest souldiers in the countrey, and for placing of others in their roomes, more unfit for service, and of less sufficiency and abilitie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 4&lblank; I press me none but good householders, &c.] This practice is complained of in Barnabie Riche's Souldier's Wishe to Briton's Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill, 1604, p. 62: “Sir, I perceive by the sound of your words you are a favourite to Captaines, and I thinke you could be contented, that to serve the expedition of these times, we should take up honest householders, men that are of wealth and abilitie to live at home, such as your captaines might chop and chaunge, and make marchandise of,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 808 5&lblank; worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck.] The repetition of the same image disposed Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, to read, in opposition to all the copies, a struck deer, which is indeed a proper expression, but not likely to have been corrupted. Shakspeare, perhaps, wrote a—struck sorrel, which, being negligently read by a man not skilled in hunter's language, was easily changed to struck fowl. Sorrel is used in Love's Labour's Lost for a young deer; and the terms of the chase were, in our author's time, familiar to the ears of every gentleman. Johnson. “&lblank; fowl.” Thus the first quarto, 1598. In a subsequent copy (1608) the word fowl being erroneously printed fool, that error was adopted in the quarto 1613, and consequently in the folio, which was printed from it. Malone. Fowl seems to have been the word designed by the poet, who might have thought an opposition between fowl, i. e. domestick birds, and wild-fowl, sufficient on this occasion. He has almost the same expression in Much Ado About Nothing: “Alas poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges.” Steevens.

Note return to page 809 6&lblank; such toasts and butter,] This term of contempt is used in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money: “They love young toasts and butter, Bow-bell suckers.” Steevens. “Londiners, and all within the sound of Bow-bell, are in reproach called cocknies, and eaters of buttered tostes.” Moryson's Itin. 1617. Malone.

Note return to page 810 7&lblank; younger sons to younger brothers, &c.] Raleigh, in his Discourse on War, uses this very expression for men of desperate fortune and wild adventure. Which borrowed it from the other, I know not, but I think the play was printed before the Discourse. Johnson. Perhaps Oliver Cromwell was indebted to this speech, for the sarcasm which he threw out on the soldiers commanded by Hampden: “Your troops are most of them old decayed serving men and tapsters,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 811 8&lblank; cankers of a calm world, and a long peace;] So, in The Puritan: “&lblank; hatched and nourished in the idle calmness of peace.” Again, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, 1592: “&lblank; all the canker-wormes that breed on the rust of peace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 812 9&lblank; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient:] Shakspeare uses this word so promiscuously to signify an ensign or standard-bearer, and also the colours or standard borne, that I cannot be at a certainty for his allusion here. If the text be genuine, I think the meaning must be, as dishonourably ragged as one that has been an ensign all his days; that has let age creep upon him, and never had merit enough to gain preferment. Dr. Warburton, who understands it in the second construction, has suspected the text, and given the following ingenious emendation: “How is an old-faced ancient or ensign, dishonourably ragged? on the contrary, nothing is esteemed more honourable than a ragged pair of colours. A very little alteration will restore it to its original sense, which contains a touch of the strongest and most fine-turned satire in the world: ‘&lblank; ten times more dishonourably ragged than an old feast ancient;’ i. e. the colours used by the city-companies in their feasts and processions; for each company had one with its peculiar device, which was usually displayed and borne about on such occasions. Now nothing could be more witty or sarcastical than this comparison: for as Falstaff's ragamuffins were reduced to their tattered condition through their riotous excesses; so this old feast ancient became torn and shattered, not in any manly exercise of arms, but amidst the revels of drunken bachanals.” Theobald. Dr. Warburton's emendation is very acute and judicious; but I know not whether the licentiousness of our author's diction may not allow us to suppose that he meant to represent his soldiers, as more ragged, though less honourably ragged, than an old ancient. Johnson. “An old faced ancient,” is an old standard mended with a different colour. It should not be written in one word, as old and faced are distinct epithets. To face a gown is to trim it; an expression at present in use. In our author's time the facings of gowns were always of a colour different from the stuff itself. So, in this play: “To face the garment of rebellion “With some fine colour.” Again, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “Your tawny coats with greasy facings here.” Steevens. So, in The Puritan, a comedy, 1607: “&lblank; full of holes, like a shot ancient.” The modern editors, instead of dishonourable read—dishonourably; but the change is unnecessary, for our author frequently uses adjectives adverbially. So again, in this play: “And since this business so fair is done.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “He is equal ravenous as he is subtle.” Again, in Hamlet: “I am myself indifferent honest.” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Her only fault &lblank; “Is that she is intolerable curst.” See also vol. iv. p. 438, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 813 1&lblank; gyves on;] i. e. shackles. Pope. So, in the old Morality of Hycke Scorner: “And I will go fetch a pair of gyves.” Again: “They be yeomen of the wrethe, that be shackled in gyves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 814 2&lblank; There's but a shirt and a half &lblank;] The old copies read— “There's not a shirt,” &c. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. In The Merchant of Venice, printed by J. Roberts, 4to. 1600, but has taken the place of not: “Repent but you that you shall lose your friend.” Malone.

Note return to page 815 3&lblank; of Daintry.] i. e. Daventry. Steevens.

Note return to page 816 4&lblank; find linen, &c.] This propensity of soldiers in a march to purloin, is noticed by a writer contemporary with Shakspeare. Barnabie Rich says, “Fyrst by the way as they travayle through the countrey where they chaunce to lye all night, the good wyfe hath spedde well if shee fynde hyr sheetes in the morning, or if this happe to fayle, yet a coverlet or curtens from the bed, or a carpet from the table, some bed clothes or table napkins, or some other thing must needs packe away with them, there comes nothing amisse if it will serve to by drinke.” A Right Excellent and Pleasaunt Dialogue betwene Mercury and an English Souldier, &c. 1574, bl. l. sig. H. 5. Reed.

Note return to page 817 5&lblank; we must away all night.] Read—“we must away all to-night. M. Mason. Perhaps Westmoreland means—“we must travel all night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 818 6&lblank; good enough to toss;] That is, to toss upon a pike. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes, “Before I would have granted,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 819 7As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:] The old copies: “&lblank; that this day lives.” Steevens. We should omit the words, this day, which weaken the sense and destroy the measure. M. Mason.

Note return to page 820 8&lblank; such great leading,] Such conduct, such experience in martial business. Johnson. The old copies— “&lblank; such great leading as you are.” By the advice of Mr. Ritson I have omitted the words—as you are, which only serve to destroy the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 821 9&lblank; half himself.] Old copies—“half of himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 822 1&lblank; of our quality,] Quality, in our author's time, was frequently used in the sense of fellowship or occupation. So, in The Tempest: “Task Ariel and all his quality,” i. e. all those who were employed with Ariel in similar services or occupations; his fellows. Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; give me a taste of your quality.” Malone.

Note return to page 823 2&lblank; of your griefs;] That is, grievances. So, in A Declaration of the Treasons of the late Earle of Essex, &c. 1601. “The Lord Keeper required the Earle of Essex, that if he would not declare his griefs openly, yet that then he would impart them privately.” Malone.

Note return to page 824 3My father, and my uncle, and myself, Did give him that same royalty he wears:] The Percies were in the highest favour with King Henry the Fourth for some time after his accession. Thomas Earl of Worcester was appointed Governour to the Prince of Wales, and was honoured with the custody of Isabel, widow of King Richard the Second, when she was sent back to France after that king's deposition. Hostpur, who accompanied him on that occasion, in the presence of the Ambassadors of both nations, who met between Calais and Boulogne, protested “upon his soul” that she was a virgin, “sound and entire even as she was delivered to King Richard, and if any would say to the contrary, he was ready to prove it against him by combat.” Speed, p. 753. Malone.

Note return to page 825 4To sue his livery,] This is a law phrase belonging to the feudal tenures; meaning, to sue out the delivery or possession of his lands from those persons who on the death of any of the tenants of the crown, seized their lands, till the heir sued out his livery. Steevens. Before the 32d year of King Henry the Eighth, wardships were usually granted as court favours, to those who made suit for, and had interest enough to obtain them. Ritson. During the existence of the feudal tenures, on the death of any of the King's tenants, an inquest of office, called inquisitio post mortem, was held, to inquire of what lands he died seized, who was his heir, of what age he was, &c. and in those cases where the heir was a minor, he became the ward of the crown; the land was seized by its officers, and continued in its possession, or that of the person to whom the crown granted it, till the heir came of age, and sued out his livery, or ousterlemaine, that is, the delivery of the land out of his guardian's hands. To regulate these inquiries, which were greatly abused, many persons being compelled to sue out livery from the crown, who were by no means tenants thereunto, the Court of Wards and Liveries was erected by Stat. 32 Hen. VIII. c. 46. See Blackstone's Comm. 1 61. III. 258. Malone.

Note return to page 826 5The more and less &lblank;] i. e. the greater and the less. Steevens. Steevens has given the words, the more and less, the only explanation they can bear; but I have little doubt that we ought to read— “They more and less, came in,” &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 827 6Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him,] Perhaps we ought to point differently: “Gave him their heirs as pages; follow'd him,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 828 7Upon the naked shore, &c.] In this whole speech he alludes again to some passages in Richard the Second. Johnson.

Note return to page 829 8And, in the neck of that,] So, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1566: “Great mischiefes succedyng one in another's necke.” Henderson.

Note return to page 830 9&lblank; task'd the whole state:] I suppose it should be tax'd the whole state. Johnson. Task'd is here used for taxed; it was once common to employ these words indiscriminately. Memoirs of P. de Commines, by Danert, folio, 4th edit. 1674, p. 136: “Duke Philip, by the space of many years, levied neither subsidies nor tasks.” Again, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “&lblank; like a greedy surveiour being sent into Fraunce to govern the countrie, robbed them and spoyled them of all their treasure with unreasonable taskes.” Again, in Holinshed, p. 422: “There was a new and strange subsidie or taske granted to be levied for the king's use.” Steevens.

Note return to page 831 1&lblank; incag'd in Wales,] The old copies have engag'd. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone. No change was necessary. Engag'd signifies delivered as a hostage; and is again used in that sense. See p. 389, n. 8. Douce.

Note return to page 832 2This head of safety;] This army, from which I hope for protection. Johnson.

Note return to page 833 3&lblank; sealed brief,] A brief is simply a letter. Johnson.

Note return to page 834 4&lblank; to the lord marshal;] Thomas Lord Mowbray. Malone.

Note return to page 835 5Gent. My good lord, I guess their tenor. Arch. Like enough, you do.] Read: “Gent. My lord, I guess their tenor. “Arch. Like enough.” Ritson.

Note return to page 836 6&lblank; in the first proportion,] Whose quota was larger than that of any other man in the confederacy. Johnson.

Note return to page 837 7&lblank; rated sinew too,] A rated sinew signifies a strength on which we reckoned; a help of which we made account. Johnson.

Note return to page 838 8And Mortimer.] Old copies, redundantly: “And lord Mortimer.” Steevens. Yet Mr. Steevens retains lord in the next line, where it is equally redundant. Boswell.

Note return to page 839 9Act V.] It seems proper to be remarked, that in the editions printed while the author lived, this play is not broken into Acts. The division which was made by the players in the first folio, seems commodious enough; but, being without authority, may be changed by any editor who thinks himself able to make a better. Johnson.

Note return to page 840 1In the old and modern editions the Earl of Westmoreland is made to enter here with the King; but, it appears from a passage in the next scene that he was left as a hostage in Hotspur's camp, till Worcester should return from treating with Henry. See p. 388, n. 5. Malone.

Note return to page 841 2&lblank; busky hill!] Busky is woody. (Bosquet, Fr.) Milton writes the word perhaps more properly, bosky. Steevens. I do not know whether Shakspeare ever surveyed the ground of Battlefield, but he has described the sun's rising over Haughmond hill from that spot, as accurately as if he had. It still merits the name of a busky hill. Blakeway.

Note return to page 842 3&lblank; to his purposes;] That is, to the sun's, to that which the sun portends by his unusual appearance. Johnson.

Note return to page 843 4&lblank; doff our easy robes &lblank;] i. e. do them off, put them off. So, in King John: “Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 844 5To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:] Shakspeare must have been aware that the King was not at this time more than four years older than he was at the deposition of King Richard. And indeed in the next play, he makes him expressly tell us, that it was then— “&lblank; but eight years since “Northumberland, even to the eyes of Richard, “Gave him defiance.” But it is altogether fruitless to attempt the reconciliation of our author's chronology. Ritson.

Note return to page 845 6Peace, chewet, peace.] A chewet, or chuet, is a noisy chattering bird, a pie. This carries a proper reproach to Falstaff for his ill-timed and impertinent jest. Theobald. In an old book of cookery, printed in 1596, I find a receipt to make chewets, which, from their ingredients, seem to have been fat greasy puddings; and to these it is highly probable that the Prince alludes. Both the quartos and folio spell the word as it now stands in the text, and as I found it in the book already mentioned. So, in Bacon's Natural History: “As for chuets, which are likewise minced meat, instead of butter and fat, it were good to moisten them partly with cream, or almond and pistachio milk,” &c. It appears from a receipt in The Forme of Cury, a Roll of ancient English Cookery, compiled about A. D. 1390, by the Master Cook of King Richard II. and published by Mr. Pegge, 8vo. 1780, that these chewets were fried in oil. See p. 83, of that work. Cotgrave's Dictionary explains the French word goubelet, to be a kind of round pie resembling our chuet. Steevens. See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Frilingotti. A kinde of daintie chewet or minced pie.” Malone.

Note return to page 846 7&lblank; my staff of office &lblank;] See Richard the Second, p. 78. Johnson.

Note return to page 847 8&lblank; the injuries of a wanton time;] i. e the injuries done by King Richard in the wantonness of prosperity. Musgrave.

Note return to page 848 9As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,] The cuckoo's chicken, who, being hatched and fed by the sparrow, in whose nest the cuckoo's egg was laid, grows in time able to devour her nurse. Johnson. Thus, in Philemon Holland's Translation of the tenth Book of Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 9: “The Titling, therefore, that sitteth, being thus deceived, hatcheth the egge and bringeth up the chicke of another bird:—and this she doth so long, untill the young cuckow being once fledge and readie to flie abroad, is so bold as to seize upon the old Titling, and eat up her that hatched her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 849 1&lblank; we stand opposed, &c.] We stand in opposition to you. Johnson.

Note return to page 850 *Quartos, articulate.

Note return to page 851 2&lblank; articulated,] i. e. exhibited in articles. So, in Daniel's Civil Wars, &c. book v.: “How to articulate with yielding wights.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “To end those things articulated here.” Again, in The Valiant Welchman, 1615: “Drums, beat aloud!—I'll not articulate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 852 3To face the garment of rebellion With some fine colour,] This is an allusion to our ancient fantastick habits, which were usually faced or turned up with a colour different from that of which they were made. So, in the old Interlude of Nature, bl. l. no date: “His hosen shall be freshly garded “Wyth colours two or thre.” Steevens.

Note return to page 853 4&lblank; poor discontents,] Poor discontents are poor discontented people, as we now say—malcontents. So, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “What, play I well the free-breath'd discontent?” Malone.

Note return to page 854 5&lblank; starving for a time &lblank;] i. e. impatiently expecting a time, &c. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “And now again clean starved for a look.” Malone.

Note return to page 855 6&lblank; set off his head,] i. e. taken from his account. Musgrave.

Note return to page 856 7More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—more valued young. I think the present gingle has more of Shakspeare. Johnson. The same kind of gingle is in Sydney's Astrophel and Stella: “&lblank; young-wise, wise-valiant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 857 8&lblank; No, good Worcester, no, We love our people well;] As there appears to be no reason for introducing the negative into this sentence, I should suppose it an error of the press, and that we ought to read: “Know, good Worcester, know,” &c. There is sufficient reason to believe that many parts of these plays were dictated to the transcribers, and the words, know and no, are precisely the same in sound. M. Mason.

Note return to page 858 9&lblank; and bestride me,] In the battle of Agincourt, Henry, when king, did this act of friendship for his brother the Duke of Gloucester. Steevens. So again, in The Comedy of Errors: “When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took “Deep scars, to save thy life.” Malone.

Note return to page 859 1Exit.] This exit is remarked by Mr. Upton. Johnson.

Note return to page 860 2Can honour set to a leg?] Sganarelle, in Moliere's Cocu Imaginaire, argues in a manner remarkably similar: Quand j'aurai fait le brave, et qu'un fer, pour ma peine, M' aura d'un vilain coup transpercé la bedaine, Que par la ville ira le bruit de mon trepas, Dites-moi, mon honneur, en serez vous plus gras? Blakeway.

Note return to page 861 3&lblank; Honour is a mere scutcheon,] This is very fine. The reward of brave actions formerly was only some honourable bearing in the shields of arms bestowed upon deservers. But Falstaff having said that honour often came not till after death, he calls it very wittily a scutcheon, which is the painted heraldry borne in funeral processions; and by mere scutcheon is insinuated, that whether alive or dead, honour was but a name. Warburton.

Note return to page 862 4Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes:] The same image of suspicion is exhibited in a Latin tragedy, called Roxana, written about the same time by Dr. William Alabaster. Johnson. Dr. Farmer, with great propriety, would reform the line as I have printed it: “Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes.” In all former editions, without regard to measure, it stood thus: “Suspicion, all our lives, shall be stuck full of eyes.” All the old copies read—supposition. Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 863 4&lblank; an adopted name of privilege,— A hare-brain'd Hotspur,] The name of Hotspur will privilege him from censure. Johnson.

Note return to page 864 5&lblank; Deliver up My lord of Westmoreland.] He was “impawned as a surety for the safe return” of Worcester. See Act IV. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 865 6Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland.] This line, as well as the next, (as has been observed by Mr. Capell,) properly belongs to Hotspur, whose impatience would scarcely suffer any one to anticipate him on such an occasion. Malone.

Note return to page 866 7Lord Douglas, go you, &c.] Douglas is here used as a trisyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 867 8And Westmoreland, that was engag'd,] Engag'd is delivered as an hostage. A few lines before, upon the return of Worcester, he orders Westmoreland to be dismissed. Johnson.

Note return to page 868 9How show'd his tasking?] Thus the quarto, 1598. The others, with the folio, read—talking. Steevens. I know not whether tasking is not here used for taxing; i. e. his satirical representation. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; my taxing, like a wild goose, flies.” See p. 377, n. 9. Tasking, however, is sufficiently intelligible in its more usual acceptation. We yet say, “he took him to task.” Malone.

Note return to page 869 1By still dispraising praise, valued with you:] This foolish line is indeed in the folio of 1623, but it is evidently the player's nonsense. Warburton. This line is not only in the first folio, but in all the editions before it, that I have seen. Why it should be censured as nonsense I know not. To vilify praise, compared or valued with merit superior to praise, is no harsh expression. There is another objection to be made. Prince Henry, in his challenge of Percy, had indeed commended him, but with no such hyperboles as might represent him above praise; and there seems to be no reason why Vernon should magnify the Prince's candour beyond the truth. Did then Shakspeare forget the foregoing scene? or are some lines lost from the Prince's speech? Johnson. I do not suspect any omission. Our author in repeating letters and speeches of former scenes in his plays, seldom attends minutely to what he had written. I believe, in these cases he always trusted to memory. Malone.

Note return to page 870 2He made a blushing cital of himself:] Mr. Pope observes, that by cital is meant taxation; but I rather think it means recital. The verb is used in that sense in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, vol. iv. p. 98: “&lblank; for we cite our faults, “That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives.” Again, in King Henry V. Act V. Sc. II.: “Whose want gives growth to the imperfections “Which you have cited,” &c. Collins.

Note return to page 871 3&lblank; he master'd &lblank;] i. e. was master of. Steevens.

Note return to page 872 4Upon his follies; never did I hear &lblank;] The old copies—on his follies. Mr. Pope introduced the syllable necessary to metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 873 5Of any prince, so wild, at liberty:] Of any prince that played such pranks, and was not confined as a madman. Johnson. The quartos, 1598, 1599, and 1608, read—“so wild a libertie.” Perhaps the author wrote—“so wild a libertine.” Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts.” The oldest reading, however, may be the true one; for in The Comedy of Errors the same phraseology occurs again: “&lblank; prating mountebanks, “And many such like liberties of sin.” Steevens. Our author uses the expression in the text again, in King Richard III.: “My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses, “And so doth mine. I muse, why she's at liberty.” I question if the passage quoted from the Comedy of Errors has the meaning assigned to it by Mr. Steevens. See vol. iv. p. 166, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 874 6Now,—Esperance!] This was the word of battle on Percy's side. See Hall's Chronicle, folio 22. Pope. Esperance, or Esperanza, has always been the motto of the Percy family. Esperance en Dieu is the present motto of the Duke of Northumberland, and has been long used by his predecessors. Sometimes it was expressed Esperance ma Comforte, which is still legible at Alnwick castle over the great gate. Percy. Our author found this word of battle in Holinshed. He seems to have used Esperance as a word of four syllables. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “And Honi soit qui mal y pensé, write.” Malone. In French metre, the e final always makes a syllable, though it does not in prose. M. Mason.

Note return to page 875 7For, heaven to earth,] i. e. one might wager heaven to earth. Warburton.

Note return to page 876 8&lblank; in the battle &lblank;] The, which is not in the old copies, was added for the sake of the measure, by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 877 9I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot;] The folio reads, I think, better: “I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot.” Ritson.

Note return to page 878 1Semblably furnish'd, &c.] i. e. in resemblance, alike. This word occurs in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “So, semblably doth he with terror strike.” Again, in The Case is Alter'd, by Ben Jonson, 1609: “Sembably prisoner to your general.” The same circumstance is also recorded in the 22d Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “The next, sir Walter Blunt, he with three others slew, “All armed like the king, which he dead sure accounted; “But after, when he saw the king himself remounted, “This hand of mine, quoth he, four kings this day have slain, “And swore out of the earth he thought they sprang again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 879 2A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!] The old copies read: “Ah, fool, go with thy soul,” &c. but this appears to be nonsense. I have ventured to omit a single letter, as well as to change the punctuation, on the authority of the following passage in The Merchant of Venice: “With one fool's head I came to woo, “But I go away with two.” Again, more appositely in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Go, and a knave with thee.” See a note on Timon of Athens, vol. xiii. p. 416, n. 5. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has but partially eradicated the nonsense of this passage. Read: “A fool go with thy soul, where-e'er it goes.” Ritson. Whither, I believe, means—to whatever place. So, p. 258: “&lblank; But hark you, Kate; “Whither I go, thither shall you go too.” Steevens.

Note return to page 880 3&lblank; shot-free at London,] A play upon shot, as it means the part of a reckoning, and a missive weapon discharged from artillery. Johnson. So, in Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosopher, 1630: “&lblank; the best shot to be discharged is the tavern bill; the best alarum is the sound of healths.” Again, in The Play of The Four P's, 1569: “Then, after your drinking, how fall ye to winking? “Sir, after drinking, while the shot is tinking.” Again, Heywood, in his Epigrams on Proverbs: “And it is yll commynge, I have heard say, “To the end of a shot, and begynning of a fray.” Steevens.

Note return to page 881 4&lblank; Here's no vanity!] In our author's time the negative, in common speech, was used to design, ironically, the excess of a thing. Thus, Ben Jonson, in Every Man in his Humour, says: “O here's no foppery! “'Death, I can endure the stocks better.” Meaning, as the passage shews, that the foppery was excessive. And so in many other places. Warburton. I am in doubt whether this interpretation, though ingenious and well supported, is true. The words may mean, here is real honour, no vanity, or empty appearance. Johnson. I believe Dr. Warburton is right: the same ironical kind of expression occurs in The Mad Lover of Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; Here's no villainy! “I am glad I came to the hearing.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “Here was no subtle device to get a wench!” Again, in the first part of Jeronimo, &c. 1605: “Here's no fine villainy! no damned brother!” Again, in our author's Taming of the Shrew: “Here's no knavery!” Steevens.

Note return to page 882 5&lblank; there's but three of my hundred and fifty &lblank;] All the old copies have—“There's not three,” &c. They are evidently erroneous. The same mistake has already happened in this play, where it has been rightly corrected. See p. 370, n. 2. So again, in Coriolanus, 1623: “Cor. Ay, but mine own desire? “1 Cit. How, not your own desire?” Malone. I see no objection to the old reading. Why might not Falstaff's ragamuffins have been reduced to two. Boswell.

Note return to page 883 6&lblank; Pr'ythee, lend thy sword.] Old copies, redundantly, “&lblank; Pr'ythee, lend me thy sword.” Steevens.

Note return to page 884 7&lblank; Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms,] Meaning Gregory the Seventh, called Hildebrand. This furious friar surmounted almost invincible obstacles to deprive the Emperor of his right of investiture of bishops, which his predecessors had long attempted in vain. Fox, in his History, hath made Gregory so odious, that I don't doubt but the good Protestants of that time were well pleased to hear him thus characterized, as uniting the attributes of their two great enemies, the Turk and Pope, in one. Warburton. On the subject of Hildebrand's exploits an ancient tragedy was written, though the title of it only has reached us. Hence, perhaps, our author's acquaintance with Turk Gregory. Steevens.

Note return to page 885 8&lblank; I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. P. Hen. He is, indeed; and, &c.] The Prince's answer, which is apparently connected with Falstaff's last words, does not cohere so well as if the knight had said— “I have made him sure; Percy's safe enough.” Perhaps a word or two like these may be lost. Johnson. Sure has two significations; certainly disposed of, and safe. Falstaff uses it in the former sense, the Prince replies to it in the latter. Steevens.

Note return to page 886 9&lblank; sack a city.] A quibble on the word sack. Johnson. The same quibble may be found in Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosospher, 1630: “&lblank; it may justly seem to have taken the name of sack from the sacking of cities.” Steevens.

Note return to page 887 1&lblank; a bottle of sack.] The same comic circumstance occurs in the ancient Interlude of Nature, (written long before the time of Shakspeare,) bl. l. no date: “Glotony. We shall have a warfare it ys told me. “Man. Ye; where is thy harnes? “Glotony. Mary, here may ye se, “Here ys harnes inow. “Wrath. Why hast thou none other harnes but thys? “Glotony. What the devyll harnes should I mys, “Without it be a bottell? “Another bottell I wyll go purvey, “Lest that drynk be scarce in the way, “Or happely none to sell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 888 2&lblank; if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him.] Certainly, “he'll pierce him,” i. e. Prince Henry will, who is just gone out to seek him. Besides, “I'll pierce him,” contradicts the whole turn and humour of the speech. Warburton. I rather take the conceit to be this: To pierce a vessel is to tap it. Falstaff takes up his bottle, which the Prince had tossed at his head, and being about to animate himself with a draught, cries: “If Percy be alive, I'll pierce him.” and so draws the cork. I do not propose this with much confidence. Johnson. Ben Jonson has the same quibble in his New Inn, Act III.: “Sir Pierce anon will pierce us a new hogshead.” I believe Falstaff makes this boast that the Prince may hear it; and continues the rest of the speech in a lower accent, or when he is out of hearing. Shakspeare has the same play on words in Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Sc. II. vol. iv. p. 358, n. 2. Steevens. Shakspeare was not aware that he here ridiculed the serious etymology of the Scottish historian: “Piercy a penetrando oculum Regis Scotorum, ut fabulatur Boetius.” Skinner. Holt White.

Note return to page 889 3&lblank; a carbonado of me.] A carbonado is a piece of meat cut cross-wise for the gridiron, Johnson. So, in The Spanish Gypsie, by Middleton and Rowley, 1653: “Carbonado thou the old rogue my father,— “While you slice into collops the rusty gammon his man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 4&lblank; thou bleed'st too much:] History says, the Prince was wounded in the face by an arrow. Steevens.

Note return to page 891 5&lblank; amaze your friends.] i. e. throw them into consternation. Steevens.

Note return to page 892 6I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, With lustier maintenance than I did look for, &c.] So, Holinshed, p. 759: “&lblank; the earle of Richmond withstood his violence, and kept him at the sword's point without advantage, longer than his companions either thought or judged.” Steevens.

Note return to page 893 7Of Shirley, &c.] The old copies, redundantly: “Of valiant Shirley,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 894 8Who never promiseth, but he means to pay.] We should certainly read: “Who never promiseth, but means to pay.” which agrees with what the Prince says in the first Act: “And pay the debts I never promised.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 895 9Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion;] i. e. thy lost reputation; for in that sense the word was then used. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Thierry and Theodoret: “What opinion will the managing “Of this affair bring to my wisdom! my invention “Tickles with approbation on't!” Again, in The Gamester, by Shirley, 1637: “Patience! I mean you have the opinion of a valiant gentleman; one that dares fight and maintain your honour against odds.” Reed.

Note return to page 896 1O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth:] Shakspeare has chosen to make Hotspur fall by the hand of the Prince of Wales: but there is, I believe, no authority for the fact. Holinshed says, “The king slew that day with his own hand six and thirty persons of his enemies. The other [i. e. troops] of his party, encouraged by his doings, fought valiantly, and slew the Lord Percy, called Henry Hotspur.” Speed says Percy was killed by an unknown hand. Malone.

Note return to page 897 2But thought's the slave of life,] So, in Hamlet: “Purpose is but the slave to memory.” Steevens.

Note return to page 898 3&lblank; those proud titles thou hast won of me; They wound my thoughts, &lblank; But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool; And time, &lblank; Must have a stop.] Hotspur in his last moments endeavours to console himself. The glory of the prince wounds his thoughts; but thought, being dependent on life, must cease with it, and will soon be at at end. Life, on which thought depends, is itself of no great value, being the fool and sport of time; of time, which with all its dominion over sublunary things, must itself at last be stopped. Johnson. Hotspur alludes to the Fool in our ancient farces, or the representations commonly called Death's Dance, &c. The same allusion occurs in Measure for Measure, and Love's Labour's Lost. Steevens. Mr. Steevens could not very easily have supported his opinion, that the allusion here is to the fool in the ancient farces, or in the representations called the Dance of Death; a character which has been altogether misconceived in the course of the annotations on Shakspeare. Dr. Johnson's interpretation is much more natural and intelligible, and the allusion is certainly to the common or domestic fool, who was retained for the express purpose of affording sport to his still more foolish employers. In this sense our author uses death's fool, fortune's fool, and fate's fool. Douce. The same expression is to be found in our author's 106th Sonnet: “Love's not Time's fool.” Malone.

Note return to page 899 4Ill-weav'd ambition, &c.] A metaphor taken from cloth, which shrinks when it is ill-weaved, when its texture is loose. Johnson.

Note return to page 900 5A kingdom for it was too small a bound; &c.] Carminibus confide bonis—jacet ecce Tibullus;   Vix manet è toto parva quod urna capit. Ovid. Johnson.

Note return to page 901 6&lblank; that bears thee dead,] The most authentick copy, the quarto of 1598, and the folio, have—“the dead.” The true reading is found in a quarto of no authority or value, 1639; but it is here clearly right. Malone.

Note return to page 902 7&lblank; so dear a show &lblank;] Thus the first and best quarto. All the subsequent copies have—“so great,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 903 8But let my favours hide thy mangled face;] We should read—favour, face, or countenance. He is stooping down here to kiss Hotspur. Warburton. He rather covers his face with a scarf, to hide the ghastliness of death. Johnson.

Note return to page 904 9&lblank; ignomy &lblank;] So the word ignominy was formerly written. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida, Act V. Sc. III.: “Hence broker lacquey! ignomy and shame,” &c. Reed. Again, in Lord Cromwell, 1602: “With scandalous ignomy and slanderous speeches.” Malone.

Note return to page 905 *So folio: quartos, ignominy.

Note return to page 906 1&lblank; so fat a deer &lblank;] There is in these lines a very natural mixture of the serious and ludicrous, produced by the view of Percy and Falstaff. I wish all play on words had been forborn. Johnson. I find the same quibble in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “Life is as dear in deer, as 'tis in men.” Again, in A Maidenhead Well Lost, 1632, a comedy, by Heywood: “There's no deer so dear to him, but he will kill it.” Steevens. Fat is the reading of the first quarto, 1598, the most authentick impression of this play, and of the folio. The other quartos have —fair. Malone. “So fat a deer seems to be the better reading, for Turbervile, in The Terms of the Ages of all Beasts of Venerie and Chase, observes: “&lblank; You shall say by anie deare, a great deare, and not a fayre deare, unless it be a rowe, which in the fifth year is called a fayre rowe-bucke.” Tollet.

Note return to page 907 2&lblank; many dearer,] Many of greater value. Johnson.

Note return to page 908 3Embowell'd will I see thee by and by.] An ingenious commentator on Mr. Mason's supplement to Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, (see the Monthly Magazine, vol. xii. p. 299,) has disputed the usual sense of embowel'd in this speech, on the ground that the prince would not be guilty of such brutality as to see Falstaff eviscerated; and he therefore contends that the meaning is, put into the bowels of the earth. But surely the prince designs no more than that Falstaff's body shall be embalmed in the usual manner. When the knight rises, he exclaims, “if thou embowel me to day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me to morrow,” evidently alluding to the practice of evisceration and subsequent treatment of a dead body by strewing aromatics over it for preservation. If the body were to be put into the bowels of the earth, as the commentator contends, Falstaff's “eat me to-morrow” would manifestly be an absurd expression. That the present writer may not be suspected of plagiarism on this occasion, he feels himself obliged to lay claim to the above opinion in answer to the commentator, as it appeared in the before-mentioned periodical publication. But the following curious extract from the arraignment of Hugh Le Despenser the favourite of Edward II. will set the question at rest for ever: “Hugh contraytour este trove, par quoy vous agardent touz lez bonez gentz de realme, meyndrez et greyndres, ryches et povrez par comun assent, que vous come larone estes trove, par quey vous serrez pendue. Et contreytour estez trove, par quey vous serrez treynez* [Subnote: *This word may serve to correct a mistake in a note in King Richard III. Act V. Sc. II. by Dr. Johnson, who had supposed that drawn was the same as exenterated.] et quarterecez, et envoye parmy le realme. Et pur ceo que vous fuistez utlage par nostre seignour le roy et par commune assent, et estez revenue en courte sanz garrant, vous serrez decollez. Et pur ceo que vous abbestatez et procurastez discorde entre nostre seignour le roy et la royne et lez altrez del realme, si serret enbouellcez, et puis ils serront ars. Retrayez vous traytour, tyrant reneyee, si alez vostre juyse prendre. Traytour malveys et attaynte.” In English: “Hugh Le Despencer, you have been found an arch-traitor, for which cause all good people of the realm, great and small, rich and poor, by common consent, award you a convicted felon; therefore you shall be hanged. And forasmuch as you have been found a traitor, you shall be drawn and quartered, and [your limbs] dispersed throughout the kingdom. And having been outlawed by our lord the king, and by common assent, you have unwarrantably returned into court; and therefore you shall be beheaded. And because you have procured and abetted discord between our lord the king, and the queen, and others of the realm, you shall be embowelled, and [your bowels] afterwards burnt. Begone, traitorous renegade tyrant, and await the execution of your sentence. Wicked and attainted traitor!” Knighton, inter Historiæ Anglicanæ decem Scriptores, col. 2549. The author of Aulicus Coquinariæ, 1650, speaking of the opening of King James the First's body, has these words: “The next day was solemnly appointed for imbowelling the corps, in the presence of some of the counsell, all the physicians, chirurgions, apothecaries, and the Palsgrave's physician.” We got this word from the old French eboeler, the orthography of which at once declares its meaning. With us it might perhaps be more properly written ebowel, if the ear were not likely to be offended by the change. Douce.

Note return to page 909 3&lblank; to powder me,] To powder is to salt. Johnson.

Note return to page 910 4Upon the ground.] Old copies— “On the ground &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 911 5&lblank; a double man:] That is, I am not Falstaff and Percy together, though having Percy on my back, I seem double. Johnson. Dryden has adopted this phrase in his Indian Emperor: “I kill'd a double man; the one half lay “Upon the ground, the other ran away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 912 6&lblank; I gave him this wound in the thigh:] The very learned Lord Littleton observes, that Shakspeare applied an action to Falstaff, which William of Malmsbury tells us was really done by one of the Conqueror's knights to the body of King Harold. I do not however believe that Lord Littleton supposed Shakspeare to have read this old Monk. The story is told likewise by Matthew Paris and Matthew of Westminster; and by many of the English Chroniclers, Stowe, Speed, &c. &c. Farmer.

Note return to page 913 7Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.] Thomas Churchyard, in a catalogue of his own printed works, prefixed to his Challenge, 1593, informs us, that he had published “a booke called A Rebuke to Rebellion [dedicated] to the good old Earle of Bedford.” Steevens.

Note return to page 914 8Hath taught us &lblank;] This reading, which serves to exclude an inelegant repetition, (and might have been derived from the quarto 1598, corrected by our author,) is refused by Mr. Malone. See the subsequent note. And yet, are we authorized to reject the fittest word, merely because it is not found in the earliest copy? In a note on p 403, Mr. Malone accepts a reading from a late quarto, which he acknowledges to be of no value. Steevens. “Hath shown us &lblank;” Thus the quarto 1598. In that of 1599, shown was arbitrarily changed to taught, which consequently is the reading of the folio. The repetition is much in our author's manner. Malone.

Note return to page 915 9Here Mr. Pope inserts the following speech from the quartos: “Lan. I thank your grace for this high courtesy, “Which I shall give away immediately.” But Dr. Johnson judiciously supposes it to have been rejected by Shakspeare himself. Steevens. I can see no reason for its rejection. Prince John would naturally thank his brother for his kind delegation to him of so honourable an office. Boswell.

Note return to page 916 10216001“As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.” p. 193. Mr. Rowe took notice of a tradition, that this part of Falstaff was written originally under the name of Oldcastle. An ingenious correspondent hints to me, that the passage above quoted from our author, proves what Mr. Rowe tells us was a tradition. “Old lad of the castle” seems to have a reference to Oldcastle. Besides, if this had not been the fact, why, in the Epilogue to The Second Part of King Henry IV. where our author promises to continue his story with Sir John in it, should he say, “Where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard opinions: for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man.” This looks like declining a point that had been made an objection to him. I'll give a farther matter in proof, which seems almost to fix the charge. I have read an old play, called, The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, containing the honourable Battle of Agincourt.—The action of this piece commences about the 14th year of King Henry the Fourth's reign, and ends with Henry the Fifth's marrying Princess Catharine of France. The scene opens with Prince Henry's robberies. Sir John Oldcastle is one of the gang, and called Jockie; and Ned and Gadshill are two other comrades.—From this old imperfect sketch, I have a suspicion, Shakspeare might form his two parts of King Henry IV. and his history of King Henry V. and consequently it is not improbable, that he might continue the mention of Sir John Oldcastle, till some descendant of that family moved Queen Elizabeth to command him to change the name. Theobald. “&lblank; my old lad of the castle.” This alludes to the name Shakspeare first gave to this buffoon character, which was Sir John Oldcastle; and when he changed the name he forgot to strike out this expression that alluded to it. The reason of the change was this: one Sir John Oldcastle having suffered in the time of Henry the Fifth for the opinions of Wickliffe, it gave offence, and therefore the poet altered it to Falstaff, and endeavours to remove the scandal in the Epilogue to The Second Part of King Henry IV. Fuller takes notice of this matter in his Church History:—“Stage-poets have themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, whom they have fancied a boon companion, a jovial royster, and a coward to boot. The best is, Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, and of late is substituted buffoon in his place.” Book iv. p. 168. But, to be candid, I believe there was no malice in the matter. Shakspeare wanted a droll name to his character, and never considered whom it belonged to. We have a like instance in The Merry Wives of Windsor, where he calls his French quack Caius, a name at that time very respectable, as belonging to an eminent and learned physician, one of the founders of Caius College in Cambridge. Warburton. Sir John Oldcastle was not a character ever introduced by Shakspeare, nor did he ever occupy the place of Falstaff. The play in which Oldcastle's name occurs was not the work of our poet. Steevens. Fuller, besides the words cited in the note, has in his Worthies, p. 253, the following passage: “Sir John Oldcastle was first made a thrasonical puff, an emblem of mock valour, a make-sport in all plays, for a coward.” Speed, likewise, in his Chronicle, edit. 2, p. 178, says: “The author of The Three Conversions (i. e. Parsons the Jesuit,) hath made Oldcastle a ruffian, a robber, and a rebel, and his authority, taken from the stage players, is more befitting the pen of his slanderous report, than the credit of the judicious, being only grounded from the papist and the poet, of like conscience for lies, the one ever feigning, and the other ever falsifying the truth.” Ritson. From the following passage in The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinaire, or the Walkes in Powles, quarto, 1604, it appears that Sir John Oldcastle was represented on the stage as a very fat man (certainly not in the play printed with that title in 1600:) —“Now, signiors, how like you mine host? did I not tell you he was a madde round knave and a merrie one too? and if you chaunce to talke of fatte Sir John Oldcastle, he will tell you, he was his great grandfather, and not much unlike him in paunch.” —The host, who is here described, returns to the gallants, and entertains them with telling them stories. After his first tale, he says: “Nay gallants, I'll fit you, and now I will serve in another, as good as vinegar and pepper to your roast beefe.”—Signor Kickshawe replies: “Let's have it, let's taste on it, mine host, my noble fat actor.” The cause of all the confusion relative to these two characters, and of the tradition mentioned by Mr. Rowe, that our author changed the name from Oldcastle to Falstaff, (to which I do not give the smallest credit,) seems to have been this. Shakspeare appears evidently to have caught the idea of the character of Falstaff from a wretched play entitled The Famous Victories of King Henry V. (which had been exhibited before 1589,) in which Henry Prince of Wales is a principal character. He is accompanied in his revels and his robberies by Sir John Oldcastle, (“a pamper'd glutton, and a debauchee,” as he is called in a piece of that age,) who appears to be the character alluded to in the passage above quoted from The Meeting of Gallants, &c. To this character undoubtedly it is that Fuller alludes in his Church History, 1656, when he says, “Stage-poets have themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, whom they have fancied a boon companion, a jovial royster, and a coward to boot.” Speed, in his History, which was first published in 1611, alludes both to this “boon companion” of the anonymous King Henry V. and to the Sir John Oldcastle exhibited in a play of the same name, which was printed in 1600: “The author of The Three Conversions hath made Oldcastle a ruffian, a robber, and a rebel, and his authority taken from the stage players.” Oldcastle is represented as a rebel in the play last mentioned alone; in the former play as “a ruffian and a robber.” Shakspeare probably never intended to ridicule the real Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, in any respect: but thought proper to make Falstaff, in imitation of his proto-type, the Oldcastle of the old King Henry V. a mad round knave also. From the first appearance of our author's King Henry IV. the old play in which Sir John Oldcastle had been exhibited, (which was printed in 1598,) was probably never performed. Hence, I conceive, it is, that Fuller says, “Sir John Falstaff has relieved the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, and of late is substituted buffoon in his place;” which being misunderstood, probably gave rise to the story, that Shakspeare changed the name of his character. A passage in his Worthies, folio, 1662, p. 253, shows his meaning still more clearly; and will serve at the same time to point out the source of the mistakes on this subject.—“Sir John Fastolfe, knight, was a native of this county [Norfolk]. To avouch him by many arguments valiant, is to maintain that the sun is bright; though, since, the stage has been over-bold with his memory, making him a Thrasonical puff, and emblem of mock-valour. —True it is, Sir John Oldcastle did first bear the brunt of the one, being made the makesport in all plays for a coward. It is easily known out of what purse this black penny came. The papists railing on him for a heretick; and therefore he must be also a coward: though indeed he was a man of arms, every inch of him, and as valiant as any of his age. “Now as I am glad that Sir John Oldcastle is put out, so I am sorry that Sir John Fastolfe is put in, to relieve his memory in this base service: to be the anvil for every dull wit to strike upon. Nor is our comedian excusable by some alteration of his name, writing him Sir John Falstafe, (and making him the property and pleasure of King Henry V. to abuse,) seeing the vicinity of sounds intrench on the memory of that worthy knight.” Here we see the assertion is, not that Sir John Oldcastle did first bear the brunt in Shakspeare's play, but in all plays, that is, on the stage in general, before Shakspeare's character had appeared; owing to the malevolence of papists, of which religion it is plain Fuller supposed the writers of those plays in which Oldcastle was exhibited, to have been; nor does he complain of Shakspeare's altering the name of his character from Oldcastle to Falstaff, but of the metathesis of Fastolfe to Falstaff. Yet I have no doubt that the words above cited, “put out” and “put in,” and “by some alteration of his name,” that these words alone, misunderstood, gave rise to the misapprehension that has prevailed since the time of Mr. Rowe, relative to this matter. For what is the plain meaning of Fuller's words? Sir John Fastolfe was in truth a very brave man, though he is now represented on the stage as a cowardly braggart. Before he was thus ridiculed, Sir John Oldcastle, being hated by the papists, was exhibited by popish writers, in all plays, as a coward. Since the new character of Falstaff has appeared, Oldcastle has no longer borne the brunt, has no longer been the object of ridicule: but, as on the one hand I am glad that ‘his memory has been relieved,’ that the plays in which he was represented have been expelled from the scene, so on the other, I am sorry that so respectable a character as Sir John Fastolie has been brought on it, and ‘substituted buffoon in his place; for however our comick poet [Shakspeare] may have hoped to escape censure by altering the name from Fastolfe to Falstaff, he is certainly culpable, since some imputation must necessarily fall on the brave knight of Norfolk from the similitude of the sounds.” Falstaff having thus grown out of, and immediately succeeding, the other character, (the Oldcastle of the old King Henry V.) having one or two features in common with him, and being probably represented in the same dress, and with the same fictitious belly, as his predecessor, the two names might have been indiscriminately used by Field and others, without any mistake, or intention to deceive. Perhaps, behind the scenes, in consequence of the circumstances already mentioned, Oldcastle might have been a cant appellation for Falstaff for a long time. Hence the name might have been prefixed inadvertently, in some play-house copy, to one of the speeches in The Second Part of King Henry IV. If the verses be examined, in which the name of Falstaff occurs, it will be found, that Oldcastle could not have stood in those places. The only answer that can be given to this, is, that Shakspeare new-wrote each verse in which Falstaff's name occurred; —a labour which those only who are entirely unacquainted with our author's history and works, can suppose him to have undergone.—A passage in the Epilogue to The Second Part of King Henry IV. rightly understood, appears to me strongly to confirm what has been now suggested. “&lblank; Where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless he be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man.” “This (says Mr. Pope,) alludes to a play in which Sir John Oldcastle was put for Falstaff;” and “the word martyr,” (says another commentator,) “hints at this miserable performance, and its fate, which was damnation.” The play which these commentators suppose to be alluded to, is entitled The History of the famous Victories of King Henry V. printed in 1598. In this play, there is a buffoon character called Oldcastle. I have already shewn, as I conceive, that there is no ground whatsoever for supposing that Falstaff was ever called Oldcastle. The assertion that the anonymous King Henry V. was damned, is equally unfounded. On the contrary, for ten or twelve years before our Henries were produced, I make no doubt that it was very popular performance. Tarleton the celebrated comedian, who died in 1588, we know, was much admired in the parts both of the Clown and the Chief Justice in that play. The allusion in the passage before us is undoubtedly not to any play, nor to any character in any play, but to the real Sir John Oldcastle. In 1559, Bale published an account of his trial and condemnation, under the title of “A brief Chronycle concernynge the examinacion and death of the blessed Martyr of Christ, Syr Johan Oldcastell,” &c. a book that was probably much read in the reign of Elizabeth. In 1601 was published The Mirror of Martyrs, or the Life and Death of that thrice valiant capitaine and most goodly martyr, Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham.” Shakspeare, I think, meant only to say, that “Falstaff may perhaps die of his debaucheries in France,”—(having mentioned Falstaff's death, he then with his usual licence uses the word in a metaphorical sense, adding,) “unless he be already killed by the hard and unjust opinions” of those who imagined that the knight's character (like that of his predecessor) was intended as a ridicule on Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham. This our author disclaims; reminding the audience, that there can be no ground for such a supposition. I call them (says he) hard and unjust opinions, “for Sir John Oldcastle was no debauchee, but a protestant martyr, and our Falstaff is not the man;” i. e. is no representation of him, has no allusion whatsoever to him. Shakspeare seems to have been pained by some report that his inimitable character, like the despicable buffoon of the old play already mentioned, whose dress and figure resembled that of Falstaff, was meant to throw an imputation on the memory of Lord Cobham; which, in the reign of so zealous a friend to the Protestant cause as Elizabeth, would not have been easily pardoned at court. Our author, had he been so inclined, (which we have no ground for supposing,) was much too wise to have ever directed any ridicule at the great martyr for that cause, which was so warmly espoused by his queen and patroness. The former ridiculous representations of Sir John Oldcastle on the stage were undoubtedly produced by papists, and probably often exhibited, in inferior theatres, to crowded audiences, between the years 1580 and 1590. Malone. Neither evidence nor argument has in my opinion been yet produced, sufficient to controvert the received opinion, that the character of Falstaff was originally represented under the name of Oldcastle. The contraction of the original name Old, left standing in the first edition, as the prolocutor of one of Falstaff's speeches, this address of “Old lad of the castle,” the Epilogue to King Henry IV. Part II. plainly understood, the tradition mentioned by Mr. Rowe, and the united testimony of contemporary or succeeding writers, not to insist on the opinions of the most eminent criticks and commentators, seem irrefragable. It has been observed, that “if the verses be examined in which the name of Falstaff occurs, it will be found that Oldcastle could not have stood in those places;” and that “those only who are entirely unacquainted with our author's history and works can suppose him to have undergone the labour of new-writing each verse.” These verses, I believe, are in number seven; and why he, who wrote between thirty and forty plays with ease, cannot be reasonably supposed to have submitted to the drudgery of new writing seven lines, to introduce an alteration commanded by his sovereign, is to me utterly incomprehensible. But what need after all of new-writing? There was but a single syllable, in difference between the two names, to be supplied; which might surely be effected, in some places at least, without an entirely new line. The verses in question are, at present, as follows: 1. “Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death;” 2. “And asking every one for sir John Falstaff;” 3. “Give me my sword and cloak; Falstaff good night;” 4. “Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?” 5. “Fare you well, Falstaff, I, in my condition;” 6. “Well, you must now speak sir John Falstaff fair;” 7. “Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet;” And may be supposed to have stood originally thus: 1. “Away, good Ned. Oldcastle sweats to death;” 2. “And asking every one for sir John Oldcastle;” 3. “Give me my sword and cloak; good night, Oldcastle;” 4. “Now, Oldcastle, where've you been all this while?” or, “Oldcastle, where have you been all this while?” 5. “Fare you well, Oldcastle, I, in my condition;” 6. “You must now speak sir John Oldcastle fair;” 7. “Go, carry sir John Oldcastle to the Fleet;” or, “Carry sir John Oldcastle to the Fleet.” Now, it is remarkable, that, of these seven lines, the first actually requires the name of Oldcastle to perfect the metre, which is at present a foot deficient, and consequently affords a proof that it was originally written to suit that name and no other; the second and fifth do not require the alteration of a single letter; the third but a slight transposition; and the fourth, sixth, and seventh, the addition at most of a single syllable. So that all this mighty labour, which no one acquainted with our author's history and works can suppose him to have undergone, consisted in the substitution of Falstaff for Oldcastle, the transposition of two words, and the addition of three syllables! a prodigious and insurmountable fatigue to be sure! which might have taken no less space than two long minutes; and which, after all, he might probably and safely commit to the players. However the character of Sir John Oldcastle, in the original play, might be performed, he does not, from any passage now in it, appear to have been either a pamper'd glutton or a coward; and therefore it is a fair inference that all those extracts from early writers, in which Oldcastle is thus described, refer to our author's character so called, and not to the old play. If it be true that Queen Elizabeth, on seeing both or either of these plays of Henry IV. commanded Shakspeare to produce his fat knight in a different situation, she might at the same time, out of respect to the memory of Lord Cobham, have signified a desire that he would change his name; which, being already acquainted with another cowardly knight of the same christian name, one Sir John Falstaffe, in the old play of Henry VI. (for both Hall and Holinshed call him rightly Fastolfe,) he was able to do without having the trouble to invent or hunt after a new one; not perceiving or regarding the confusion which the transfer would naturally make between the two characters. However this may have been, there is every reason to believe that when these two plays came out of our author's hands, the name of Oldcastle supplied the place of Falstaff. He continued Ned and Gadshill, and why should he abandon Oldcastle? a name and character to which the public was already familiarised, and whom an audience would indisputably be much more glad to see along with his old companions than a stranger; if indeed our author himself did not at the time he was writing these dramas, take the Sir John Oldcastle of the original play to be a real historical personage, as necessarily connected with his story as Hal or Hotspur. Ritson. I take this opportunity of expressing my concurrence with Mr. Ritson's sentiments on this subject, and of declaring my opinion that the tradition of Falstaff having been originally Oldcastle is by no means disproved. The weight of real evidence appears to me to be on the side of Fuller, who lived near enough to the time of Shakspeare to be accurately informed, and had no temptation to falsify the real fact. To avoid fatiguing the reader with a long train of facts and arguments, it may be sufficient to rely on two authorities which have been too slightly attended to, if they may be said to be noticed at all. The first is Weever, writing at the very period, who describes Oldcastle as Shakspeare does Falstaff, as the page of Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, a circumstance which could hardly have happened if Falstaff had not originally been Oldcastle. The other is Nathaniel Field, a player in Shakspeare's company, who might have acted in the play himself, who could not be mistaken, and who expressly refers to Falstaff by the name of Oldcastle. (See p. 193.) Against these testimonies and others what has been opposed? May I not say, conjecture and inference alone? Conjecture, I admit, very ingeniously suggested, and inference very subtilly extracted; but weighing nothing against what is equivalent to positive evidence. “Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.” Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. II. The following circumstances, tending to prove that Shakspeare altered the name of Oldcastle to that of Falstaff, have hitherto been overlooked. In a poem by J. Weever, entitled The Mirror of Martyrs, or the Life and Death of that thrice valiant Capitaine and most godly Martyre, Sir John Oldcastle, Knight, Lord Cobham, 18mo. 1601, Oldcastle, relating the events of his life, says: “Within the spring-tide of my flowring youth “He [his father] stept into the winter of his age; “Made meanes (Mercurius thus begins the truth) “That I was made Sir Thomas Mowbrais page.” Again, in a pamphlet entitled “The wandering Jew telling Fortunes to Englishmen,” 4to. (the date torn off, but apparently a republication about the middle of the last century) is the following passage in the Glutton's speech: “I do not live by the sweat of my brows, but am almost dead with sweating. I eate much, but can talk little. Sir John Oldcastle was my great grandfather's father's uncle. I come of a huge kindred.” Reed. Different conclusions are sometimes drawn from the same premises. Because Shakspeare borrowed a single circumstance from the life of the real Oldcastle, and imparted it to the fictitious Falstaff, does it follow that the name of the former was ever employed as a cover to the vices of the latter? Is it not more likely, because Falstaff was known to possess one feature in common with Oldcastle, that the vulgar were led to imagine that Falstaff was only Oldcastle in disguise? Hence too might have arisen the story that our author was compelled to change the name of the one for that of the other; a story sufficiently specious to have imposed on the writer of the Wandering Jew, as well as on the credulity of Field, Fuller, and others, whose coincidence has been brought in support of an opinion contrary to my own. Steevens. Having given my opinion very fully on this point already, I shall here only add, that I entirely concur with Mr. Steevens. There is no doubt that the Sir John Oldcastle of the anonymous King Henry V. suggested the character of Falstaff to Shakspeare; and hence he very naturally adopted this circumstance in the life of the real Oldcastle, and made his Falstaff page to Mowbray duke of Norfolk. The author of the Wandering Jew seems to have been misunderstood. He describes the Glutton as related to some Sir John Oldcastle, and therefore as a man of a huge kindred; but he means a fat man, not a man nobly allied. From a pamphlet already quoted, entitled, The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinarie, it appears that the Oldcastle of the old K. Henry V. was represented as a very fat man; (see also the prologue to a play entitled Sir John Oldcastle, 1600, in which the Oldcastle of the old K. Henry V. is described as “a pampered glutton;”) but we have no authority for supposing Lord Cobham was fatter than other men. Is it not evident then that the Oldcastle of the play of King Henry V. was the person in the contemplation of the author of The Wandering Jew? and how does the proof that Shakspeare changed the name of his character advance by this means one step?—In addition to what I have suggested in a former note on this subject, I may add, that it appears from Camden's Remaines, 1614, p. 146, that celebrated actors were sometimes distinguished by the names of the persons they represented on the stage:—“that I may say nothing of such as for well acting on the stage have carried away the names of the personage which they acted, and have lost their names among the people.”—If actors, then, were sometimes called by the names of the persons they represented, what is more probable than that Falstaff should have been called by the multitude, and by the players, Oldcastle, not only because there had been a popular character of that name in a former piece, whose immediate successor Falstaff was, and to whose cloaths and fictitious belly he succeeded, but because, as Shakspeare himself intimates in his epilogue to this play, a false idea had gone abroad, that his jolly knight was, like his predecessor, the theatrical representative of Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham. Malone.

Note return to page 917 Mr. Tollet's Opinion concerning the Morris Dancers upon his Window. The celebration of May-day, which is represented upon my window of painted glass, is a very ancient custom, that has been observed by noble and royal personages, as well as by the vulgar. It is mentioned in Chaucer's Court of Love, that early on May-day “furth goth al the court, both most and lest, to fetche the flouris fresh, and braunch, and blome.” Historians record, that in the beginning of his reign, Henry the Eighth with his courtiers “rose on May-day very early to fetch May or green boughs; and they went with their bows and arrows shooting to the wood.” Stowe's Survey of London informs us, that “every parish there, or two or three parishes joining together, had their Mayings; and did fetch in May-poles, with diverse warlike shews, with good archers, Morrice Dancers, and other devices for pastime all the day long.” Shakspeare* [Subnote: *King Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. III. and Midsummer Night's Dream, Act IV. Sc. I.] says it was “impossible to make the people sleep on May morning; and that they rose early to observe the rite of May.” The court of King James the First, and the populace, long preserved the observance of the day, as Spelman's Glossary remarks, under the word, Maiuma. Better judges may decide, that the institution of this festivity originated from the Roman Floralia, or from the Celtic la Beltine, while I conceive it derived to us from our Gothic ancestors. Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, lib. xv. c. viii. says, “that after their their long winter from the beginning of October to the end of April, the northern nations have a custom to welcome the returning splendor of the sun with dancing, and mutually to feast each other, rejoicing that a better season for fishing and hunting was approached.” In honour of May-day the Goths and southern Swedes had a mock battle between summer and winter, which ceremony is retained in the Isle of Man, where the Danes and Norwegians had been for a long time masters. It appears from Holinshed's Chronicle, vol. iii. p. 314, or in the year 1306, that, before that time, in country towns the young folks chose a summer king and queen for sport to dance about Maypoles. There can be no doubt but their majesties had proper attendants, or such as would best divert the spectators; and we may presume, that some of the characters varied, as fashions and customs altered. About half a century afterwards, a great addition seems to have been made to the diversion by the introduction of the Morris or Moorish dance into it, which, as Mr. Peck, in his Memoirs of Milton, with great probability conjectures, was first brought into England in the time of Edward III. when John of Gaunt returned from Spain, where he had been to assist Peter, King of Castile, against Henry the Bastard. “This dance, (says Mr. Peck,) was usually performed abroad by an equal number of young men, who danced in their shirts with ribbands and little bells about their legs. But here in England they have always an odd person besides, being a boy* [Subnote: *It is evident from several authors, that Maid Marian's part was frequently performed by a young woman, and often by one, as I think, of unsullied reputation. Our Marian's deportment is decent and graceful.] dressed in a girl's habit, whom they call Maid Marian, an old favourite character in the sport.”—“Thus, (as he observes in the words of Shakspeare† [Subnote: †Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. IV. All's Well That Ends Well, Act II. Sc. II.] ,) they made more matter for a May morning: having as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a Morris for May-day.” We are authorized by the poets, Ben Jonson and Drayton, to call some of the representations on my window Morris Dancers, though I am uncertain whether it exhibits one Moorish personage; as none of them have black or tawny faces, nor do they brandish swords or staves in their hands‡ [Subnote: ‡In the Morisco the dancers held swords in their hands with the points upward, says Dr. Johnson's note in Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. IX. The Goths did the same in their military dance, says Olaus Magnus, lib. xv. ch. xxiii. Haydocke's translation of Lomazzo on Painting, 1598, b. ii. p. 54, says: “There are other actions of dancing used, as of those who are represented with weapons in their hands going round in a ring, capering skilfully, shaking their weapons after the manner of the Morris, with divers actions of meeting,” &c. “Others hanging Morris bells upon their ankles.”] , nor are they in their shirts adorned with ribbons. We find in Olaus Magnus, that the northern nations danced with brass bells about their knees, and such we have upon several of these figures, who may perhaps be the original English performers in a May-game before the introduction of the real Morris dance. However this may be, the window exhibits a favourite diversion of our ancestors in all its principal parts. I shall endeavour to explain some of the characters, and in compliment to the lady I will begin the description with the front rank, in which she is stationed. I am fortunate enough to have Mr. Steevens think with me, that figure I may be designed for the Bavian fool, or the fool with the slabbering bib, as Bavon, in Cotgrave's French Dictionary, means a bib for a slabbering child; and this figure has such a bib, and a childish simplicity in his countenance. Mr. Steevens refers to a passage in Beaumont and Fletcher's play of The Two Noble Kinsmen, by which it appears that the Bavian in the Morris dance was a tumbler, and mimicked the barking of a dog. I apprehend that several of the Morris dancers on my window tumbled occasionally, and exerted the chief feat of their activity, when they were aside the May-pole; and I apprehend that jigs, hornpipes, and the hay, were their chief dances. It will certainly be tedious to describe the colours of the dresses, but the task is attempted upon an intimation, that it might not be altogether unacceptable. The Bavian's cap is red, faced with yellow, his bib yellow, his doublet blue, his hose red, and his shoes black. Figure 2 is the celebrated Maid Marian, who, as queen of May, has a golden crown on her head, and in her left hand a flower, as the emblem of summer. The flower seems designed for a red pink, but the pointals are omitted by the engraver, who copied from a drawing with the like mistake. Olaus Magnus mentions the artificial raising of flowers for the celebration of May-day; and the supposition of the like practice* [Subnote: *Markham's translation of Heresbatch's Husbandry, 1631, observes, “that gilliflowers, set in pots and carried into vaults or cellars, have flowered all the winter long, through the warmness of the place.”] here will account for the queen of May having in her hand any particular flower before the season of its natural production in this climate. Her vesture was once fashionable in the highest degree. It was anciently the custom for maiden ladies to wear their hair† [Subnote: †Leland's Collectanea, 1770, vol. iv. p. 219, 293, vol. v. p. 332, and Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 801, 931; and see Capilli in Spelman's Glossary.] dishevelled at their coronations, their nuptials, and perhaps on all splendid solemnities. Margaret, the eldest daughter of Henry VII. was married to James, King of Scotland, with the crown upon her head: her hair hanging down. Betwixt the crown and the hair was a very rich coif hanging down behind the whole length of the body.—This single example sufficiently explains the dress of Marian's head. Her coif is purple, her surcoat blue, her cuffs white, the skirts of her robe yellow, the sleeves of a carnation colour, and her stomacher red with a yellow lace in cross bars. In Shakspeare's play of Henry VIII. Anne Bullen at her coronation is in her hair, or as Holinshed says, “her hair hanged down,” but on her head she had a coif with a circlet about it full of rich stones. Figure 3 is a friar in the full clerical tonsure, with the chaplet of white and red beads in his right hand; and, expressive of his professed humility, his eyes are cast upon the ground. His corded girdle, and his russet habit, denote him to be of the Franciscan order, or one of the grey friars, as they were commonly called from the colour of their apparel, which was a russet or a brown russet, as Holinshed, 1586, vol. iii. p. 789, observes. The mixture of colours in his habit may be resembled to a grey cloud, faintly tinged with red by the beams of the rising sun, and streaked with black; and such perhaps was Shakspeare's Aurora, or “the morn in russet mantle clad.” Hamlet, Act I. Sc. I. The friar's stockings are red, his red girdle is ornamented with a golden twist, and with a golden tassel* [Subnote: *Splendid girdles appear to have been a great article of monastick finery. Wykeham, in his Visitatio Notabilis, prohibits the Canons of Selborne any longer wearing silken girdles ornamented with gold or silver: “Zonisve sericis auri vel argenti ornatum habentibus.” See Natural History, and Antiquities of Selborne, p. 371, and Appendix, p. 459. Holt White.] . At his girdle hangs a wallet for the reception of provision, the only revenue of the mendicant orders of religious, who were named Walleteers or budget-bearers. It was customary† [Subnote: †See Maii Inductio in Cowel's Law Dictionary. When the parish priests were inhibited by the diocesan to assist in the May games, the Franciscans might give attendance, as being exempted from episcopal jurisdiction.] in former times for the priest and people in procession to go to some adjoining wood on May-day morning, and return in a sort of triumph with a May-pole, boughs, flowers, garlands, and such like tokens of the spring; and as the grey friars were held in very great esteem, perhaps on this occasion their attendance was frequently requested. Most of Shakspeare's friars are Franciscans. Mr. Steevens ingeniously suggests, that as Marian was the name of Robin Hood's beloved mistress, and as she was the queen of May, the Morris friar was designed for friar Tuck, chaplain to Robin Huid, king of May, as Robin Hood is styled in Sir David Dalrymple's extracts from the book of the Universal Kirk, in the year 1576. Figure 4 has been taken to be Marian's gentleman-usher. Mr. Steevens considers him as Marian's paramour, who in delicacy appears uncovered before her; and as it was a custom for betrothed persons to wear some mark for a token of their mutual engagement, he thinks that the cross-shaped flower on the head of this figure, and the flower in Marian's hand, denote their espousals or contract. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar, April, specifies the flowers worn of paramours to be the pink, the purple columbine, gilliflowers, carnations, and sops in wine. I suppose the flower in Marian's hand to be a pink, and this to be a stock-gilliflower, or the Hesperis, dame's violet, or queen's gilliflower; but perhaps it may be designed for an ornamental ribbon. An eminent botanist apprehends the flower upon the man's head to be an Epimedium. Many particulars of this figure resemble Absolon, the parish clerk in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, such as his curled and golden hair, his kirtle of watchet, his red hose, and Paul's windows corvin on his shoes, that is, his shoes pinked and cut into holes, like the windows of St. Paul's ancient church. My window plainly exhibits upon his right thigh a yellow scrip or pouch, in which he might, as treasurer to the company, put the collected pence, which he might receive, though the cordelier must, by the rules of his order, carry no money about him. If this figure should not be allowed to be a parish clerk, I incline to call him Hocus Pocus, or some juggler attendant upon the master of the hobby-horse, as “faire de tours de (jouer de la) gibeciere,” in Boyer's French Dictionary, signifies to play tricks by virtue of Hocus Pocus. His red stomacher has a yellow lace, and his shoes are yellow. Ben Jonson mentions “Hokos Pokos in a juggler's jerkin,” which Skinner derives from kirtlekin; that is, a short kirtle, and such seems to be the coat of this figure. Figure 5 is the famous hobby-horse, who was often forgotten or disused in the Morris dance, even after Maid Marian, the friar, and the fool, were continued in it, as is intimated in Ben Jonson's masque of The Metamorphosed Gypsies, and in his Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorpe* [Subnote: *Vol. vi. p. 93, of Whalley's edition, 1756: “Clo. They should be Morris dancers by their gingle, but they have no napkins. “Coc. No, nor a hobby-horse. “Clo. Oh, he's often forgotten, that's no rule; but there is no Maid Marian nor friar amongst them, which is the surer mark.” Vol. v. p. 211: “But see, the hobby-horse is forgot, “Fool, it must be your lot “To supply his want with faces, “And some other buffoon graces.”] . Our hobby is a spirited horse of pasteboard, in which the master dances* [Subnote: *Dr. Plot's History of Staffordshire, p. 434, mentions a dance by a hobby-horse and six others.] , and displays tricks of legerdemain, such as the threading of the needle, the mimicking of the whigh-hie, and the daggers in the nose, &c. as Ben Jonson, edit. 1756, vol. i. p. 171, acquaints us, and thereby explains the swords in the man's cheeks. What is stuck in the horse's mouth I apprehend to be a ladle ornamented with a ribbon. Its use was to receive the spectators' pecuniary donations. The crimson foot-cloth fretted with gold, the golden bit, the purple bridle with a golden tassel, and studded with gold; the man's purple mantle with a golden border, which is latticed with purple, his golden crown, purple cap with a red feather, and with a golden knop, induce me to think him to be the king of May; though he now appears as a juggler and a buffoon. We are to recollect the simplicity of ancient times, which knew not polite literature, and delighted in jesters, tumblers, jugglers, and pantomimes. The emperor Lewis the Debonair not only sent for such actors upon great festivals, but out of complaisance to the people was obliged to assist at their plays, though he was averse to publick shews. Queen Elizabeth was entertained at Kenelworth with Italian tumblers, Morris dancers, &c. The colour of the hobby-horse is a reddish white, like the beautiful blossom of the peach-tree. The man's coat or doublet is the only one upon the window that has buttons upon it, and the right side of it is yellow, and the left red. Such a particoloured† [Subnote: †Holinshed, 1586, vol. iii. p. 326, 805, 812, 844, 963. Whalley's edition of Ben Jonson, vol. vi. p. 248. Stowe's Survey of London, 1720, book v. p. 164, 166. Urry's Chaucer, p. 198.] jacket, and hose in the like manner, were occasionally fashionable from Chaucer's days to Ben Jonson's, who, in Epigram 73, speaks of a “partieper-pale picture, one half drawn in solemn Cyprus, the other cobweb lawn.” Figure 6 seems to be a clown, peasant, or yeoman, by his brown visage, notted hair, and robust limbs‡ [Subnote: ‡So, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, the yeoman is thus described: “A notte hede had he, with a brown visage.” Again, in The Widow's Tears, by Chapman 1612: “&lblank; your not-headed country gentleman.”] . In Beaumont and Fletcher's play of The Two Noble Kinsmen, a clown is placed next to the Bavian fool in the Morris dance; and this figure is next to him on the file, or in the downward line. His bonnet is red, faced with yellow, his jacket red, his sleeves yellow, striped across or rayed with red, the upper part of his hose is like the sleeves, and the lower part is a coarse deep purple, his shoes red. Figure 7, by the superior neatness of his dress, may be a franklin or a gentleman of fortune. His hair is curled, his bonnet purple, his doublet red with gathered sleeves, and his yellow stomacher is laced with red. His hose red, striped across or rayed with a whitish brown, and spotted brown. His codpiece is yellow, and so are his shoes. Figure 8, the May-pole, is painted yellow and black in spiral lines. Spelman's Glossary mentions the custom of erecting a tall May-pole painted with various colours. Shakspeare, in the play of A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act III. Sc. II. speaks of a painted May-pole. Upon our pole are displayed St. George's red cross, or the banner of England, and a white pennon or streamer emblazoned with a red cross terminating like the blade of a sword, but the delineation thereof is much faded. It is plain however from an inspection of the window, that the upright line of the cross, which is disunited in the engraving, should be continuous* [Subnote: *St. James was the apostle and patron of Spain, and the knights of his order were the most honourable there; and the ensign that they wore, was white, charged with a red cross in the form of a sword. The pennon or streamer upon the May-pole seems to contain such a cross. If this conjecture be admitted, we have the banner of England and the ensign of Spain upon the May-pole; and perhaps from this circumstance we may infer that the glass was painted during the marriage of King Henry VIII. and Katharine of Spain. For an account of the ensign of the knights of St. James, see Ashmole's History of the Order of the Garter, and Mariana's History of Spain.] . Keysler, in p. 78 of his Northern and Celtic Antiquities, gives us perhaps the original of May-poles; and that the French used to erect them appears also from Mezeray's History of their King Henry IV. and from a passage in Stowe's Chronicle, in the year 1560. Mr. Theobald and Dr. Warburton acquaint us that the May-games, and particularly some of the characters in them, became exceptionable to the puritanical humour of former times. By an ordinance of the Rump Parliament† [Subnote: †This should have been called the Long Parliament. The Rump Parliament was in Oliver's time. Reed.] in April, 1644, all May-poles were taken down and removed by the constables and church-wardens, &c. After the Restoration they were permitted to be erected again. I apprehend they are now generally unregarded and unfrequented, but we still on May-day adorn our doors in the country with flowers and the boughs of birch, which tree was especially honoured on the same festival by our Gothic ancestors. To prove figure 9 to be Tom the Piper, Mr. Steevens has very happily quoted these lines from Drayton's 3d Eclogue: “Myself above Tom Piper to advance, “Who so bestirs him in the Morris dance   “For penny wage.” His tabour, tabour-stick, and pipe, attest his profession; the feather in his cap, his sword, and silver-tinctured shield, may denote him to be a squire minstrel, or a minstrel of the superior order. Chaucer, 1721, p. 181, says: “Minstrels used a red hat.” Tom Piper's bonnet is red, faced or turned up with yellow, his doublet blue, the sleeves blue, turned up with yellow, something like red muffettees at his wrists, over his doublet is a red garment, like a short cloak with arm-holes, and with a yellow cape, his hose red, and garnished across and perpendicularly on the thighs, with a narrow yellow lace. This ornamental trimming seems to be called gimp-thigh'd in Grey's edition of Butler's Hudibras; and something almost similar occurs in Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Sc. II. where the poet mentions, “Rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose.” His shoes are brown. Figures 10 and 11 have been thought to be Flemings or Spaniards, and the latter a Morisco. The bonnet of figure 10 is red, turned up with blue, his jacket red with red sleeves down the arms, his stomacher white with a red lace, his hose yellow, striped across or rayed with blue, and spotted blue, the under part of his hose blue, his shoes are pinked, and they are of a light colour. I am at a loss to name the pennant-like slips waving from his shoulders, but I will venture to call them side-sleeves or long sleeves, slit into two or three parts. The poet Hocclive or Occleve, about the reign of Richard the Second, or of Henry the Fourth, mentions side-sleeves of pennyless grooms, which swept the ground; and do not the two following quotations infer the use or fashion of two pair of sleeves upon one gown or doublet? It is asked, in the appendix to Bulwer's Artificial Changeling: “What use is there of any other than arming sleeves, which answer the proportion of the arm?” In Much Ado About Nothing, Act III. Sc. IV. a lady's gown is described with down-sleeves, and side-sleeves, that is, as I conceive it, with sleeves down the arms, and with another pair of sleeves, slit open before from the shoulder to the bottom or almost to the bottom, and by this means unsustained by the arms and hanging down by her sides to the ground or as low as her gown. If such sleeves were slit downwards into four parts, they would be quartered; and Holinshed says: “that at a royal mummery, Henry VIII. and fifteen others appeared in Almain jackets, with long quartered sleeves;” and I consider the bipartite or tripartite sleeves of figures 10 and 11, as only a small variation of that fashion. Mr. Steevens thinks the winged sleeves of figures 10 and 11 are alluded to in Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Pilgrim: “&lblank; That fairy rogue that haunted me “He has sleeves like dragon's wings.” And he thinks that from these perhaps the fluttering streamers of the present Morris dancers in Sussex may be derived. Markham's Art of Angling, 1635, orders the angler's apparel to be “without hanging sleeves, waving loose, like sails.” Figure 11 has upon his head a silver coronet, a purple cap with a red feather, and with a golden knop. In my opinion he personates a nobleman, for I incline to think that various ranks of life were meant to be represented upon my window. He has a post of honour, or, “a station in the valued file,”* [Subnote: *The right hand file is the first in dignity and account, or in degree of value, according to Count Mansfield's Directions of War, 1624.] which here seems to be the middle row, and which according to my conjecture comprehends the queen, the king, the May-pole, and the nobleman. The golden crown upon the head of the master of the hobby-horse, denotes pre-eminence of rank over figure 11, not only by the greater value of the metal† [Subnote: †The ancient kings of France wore gilded helmets, the dukes and counts wore silvered ones. See Selden's Titles of Honour for the raised Points of Coronets.] , but by the superior number of points raised upon it. The shoes are blackish, the hose red, striped across or rayed with brown or with a darker red, his codpiece yellow, his doublet yellow, with yellow side-sleeves, and red arming sleeves, or down-sleeves. The form of his doublet is remarkable. There is great variety in the dresses and attitudes of the Morris dancers on the window, but an ocular observation will give a more accurate idea of this and of other particulars than a verbal description. Figure 12 is the counterfeit fool, that was kept in the royal palace, and in all great houses, to make sport for the family. He appears with all the badges of his office; the bauble in his hand, and a coxcomb hood with asses ears on his head. The top of the hood rises into the form of a cock's neck and head, with a bell at the latter; and Minsheu's Dictionary, 1627, under the word cock's comb, observes, that “natural idiots and fools have [accustomed] and still do accustome themselves to weare in their cappes cocke's feathers or a hat with a necke and a head of a cocke on the top, and a bell thereon,” &c. His hood is blue, guarded or edged with yellow at its scalloped bottom, his doublet is red, striped across or rayed with a deeper red, and edged with yellow, his girdle yellow, his left side hose yellow, with a red shoe, and his right side hose blue, soled with red leather. Stowe's Chronicle, 1614, p. 899, mentions a pair of cloth-stockings soled with white leather called “cashambles,” that is, “Chausses semelles de cuir,” as Mr Anstis, on the Knighthood of the Bath, observes. The fool's bauble and the carved head with asses ears upon it are all yellow. There is in Olaus Magnus, 1555, p. 524, a delineation of a fool, or jester, with several bells upon his habit, with a bauble in his hand, and he has on his head a hood with asses ears, a feather, and the resemblance of the comb of a cock. Such jesters seem to have been formerly much caressed by the northern nations, especially in the court of Denmark; and perhaps our ancient joculator regis might mean such a person. A gentleman of the highest class in historical literature, apprehends, that the representation upon my window is that of a Morris dance procession about a May-pole; and he inclines to think, yet with many doubts of its propriety in a modern painting, that the personages in it rank in the boustrophedon form. By this arrangement (says he) the piece seems to form a regular whole, and the train is begun and ended by a fool in the following manner: Figure 12 is the well known fool. Figure 11 is a Morisco, and Figure 10 a Spaniard, persons peculiarly pertinent to the Morris dance; and he remarks that the Spaniard obviously forms a sort of middle term betwixt the Moorish and the English characters, having the great fantastical sleeve of the one, and the laced stomacher of the other. Figure 9 is Tom the Piper. Figure 8, the May-pole. Then follow the English characters, representing, as he apprehends, the five great ranks of civil life. Figure 7 is the franklin, or private gentleman. Figure 6 is a plain churl or villane. He takes figure 5, the man within the hobby-horse, to be perhaps a Moorish king, and from many circumstances of superior grandeur plainly pointed out as the greatest personage of the piece, the monarch of the May, and the intended consort of our English Maid Marian. Figure 4 is a nobleman. Figure 3, the friar, the representative of all the clergy. Figure 2 is Maid Marian, queen of May. Figure 1, the lesser fool, closes the rear. My description commences where this concludes, or I have reversed this gentleman's arrangement, by which in either way the train begins and ends with a fool; but I will not assert that such a disposition was designedly observed by the painter. With regard to the antiquity of the painted glass there is no memorial or traditional account transmitted to us; nor is there any date in the room but this, 1621, which is over a door, and which indicates in my opinion the year of building the house. The book of Sports or Lawful Recreations upon Sunday after Evening-prayers, and upon Holy-days, published by King James in 1618, allowed May-games, Morris dances, and the setting up of May-poles; and, as Ben Jonson's Masque of The Metamorphosed Gypsies, intimates, that Maid Marian, and the friar, together with the often forgotten hobby-horse, were sometimes continued in the Morris dance as late as the year 1621, I once thought that the glass might be stained about that time; but my present objections to this are the following ones. It seems from the prologue to the play of King Henry VIII. that Shakspeare's fools should be dressed “in a long motley coat guarded with yellow;” but the fool upon my window is not so habited; and he has upon his head a hood, which I apprehend might be the coverture of the fool's head before the days of Shakspeare, when it was a cap with a comb like a cock's, as both Dr. Warburton and Dr. Johnson assert, and they seem justified in doing so from King Lear's fool giving Kent his cap, and calling it his coxcomb. I am uncertain, whether any judgment can be formed from the manner of spelling the inscrolled inscription upon the May-pole, upon which is displayed the old banner of England, and not the union flag of Great Britain, or St. George's red cross and St. Andrew's white cross joined together, which was ordered by King James in 1606, as Stowe's Chronicle certifies. Only one of the doublets has buttons, which I conceive were common in Queen Elizabeth's reign; nor have any of the figures ruffs, which fashion commenced in the latter days of Henry VIII. and from their want of beards also I am inclined to suppose they were delineated before the year 1535, when “King Henry VIII. commanded all about his court to poll their heads, and caused his own to be polled, and his beard to be notted, and no more shaven.” Probably the glass was painted in his youthful days, when he delighted in May-games, unless it may be judged to be of much higher antiquity by almost two centuries. Such are my conjectures upon a subject of so much obscurity; but it is high time to resign it to one more conversant with the history of our ancient dresses. Tollet. A full investigation of this curious subject may be found in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare. Boswell.

Note return to page 918 10216002“I saw young Harry with his beaver on.” p. 362. There are two other passages in Shakspeare's plays that relate to the beaver, which it will be best to insert here for the purpose of avoiding confusion, and to afford likewise the means of assembling together the various and discordant opinions of the commentators. They are, 1, Henry IV. Part II. Act IV. Sc. I.—their beavers down; and, 2, in Hamlet, Act I. Sc. II.—he wore his beaver up. In the first of these passages Dr. Warburton would read—with his beaver up; and he remarks that “the beaver is only the visiere of the helmet, which, let down, covers the face. When the soldier was not upon action he wore it up, so that his face might be seen, but when upon action, it was let down, to cover and secure the face.” All this is correct, except that the beaver is certainly not the visor. Dr. Johnson says, “there is no need of all this note; for beaver may be a helmet.” This too is very just; the beaver, a part only of the helmet strictly speaking, is frequently used to express a helmet generally. Thus, in the first scene of the third part of King Henry VI.: “I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.” The latter part of the doctor's note was unnecessary, and its inference apparently wrong. Mr. Malone remarks that “Dr. Warburton seems not to have observed, that Vernon only says, he saw young Harry, not that he saw his face.” But surely, Dr. Warburton having contended for the reading beaver up, could not have misconceived Vernon's meaning as above. Dr. Lort contents himself with distinguishing and explaining the beaver and visor. He is however wrong in stating that the beaver was let down to enable the wearer to drink. Mr. Malone's second note relating to Hamlet, will be considered in the third passage. In the second passage, Mr. Malone remarks that the beaver “is confounded both here and in Hamlet with visor, or used for helmet in general,” but that “Shakspeare is not answerable for any confusion on this subject, as he used beaver in the same sense in which it was used by all his contemporaries.” The latter part of this note applies very justly to the first passage—beaver on, where it is used generally for a helmet, but not to the present; beavers down being perfectly accurate. It is submitted that the former part of the note, which relates to a supposed confusion both here and in Hamlet between beaver and visor, is not quite accurate, as may hereafter appear. In the third passage Mr. Malone says: “though beaver properly signified that part of the helmet which was let down, to enable the wearer to drink, Shakspeare always uses the word as denoting that part of the helmet which, when raised up, exposed the face of the wearer; and such was the popular signification of the word in his time. In Bullokar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616, beaver is defined thus:—“In armour it signifies that part of the helmet which may be lifted up to take the breath more freely.” On this passage Mr. Malone had also before remarked that Shakspeare confounded the beaver and visor; for in Hamlet Horatio says that he saw the old king's face, because he wore his beaver up; and yet the learned commentator inadvertently quotes Bullokar's definition, which is adverse to his own opinion. Another observation that suggests itself on Mr. Malone's note on Hamlet is, that Shakspeare does not always use beaver to denote that part of the helmet which, when raised up, exposed the face of the wearer; because we have just seen that he sometimes, as other writers do, applies it to the whole of the helmet. And lastly, as to preceding notes; the present writer had, in defending Shakspeare's accuracy, expressed himself in most faulty and inaccurate terms, when he said that “the beaver was as often made to lift up as to let down.” A great deal of confusion has arisen from the want of due attention to these words. There is a chance that the reader, unless he have paid more attention to what has already been stated than it perhaps deserves, may have got into a labyrinth; from which it shall be the endeavour of the rest of this note to extricate him. In the first place,—no want of accuracy whatever is imputable to Shakspeare. The beaver of a helmet is frequently used by writers, improperly enough, to express the helmet itself. It is in reality the lower part of it, adapted to the purpose of giving the wearer an opportunity of taking breath when oppressed with heat, or, without putting off the helmet, of taking his repast. As it was raised up for this purpose, it could of course be let down again; but it could not be let down on either of the before-mentioned occasions. The visiere or visor was another moveable part in the front of a helmet, and placed above the beaver in order to protect the upper part of the face; and being perforated with many holes, afforded the wearer an opportunity of discerning objects: and thence its name. It was made also to lift up when the party either wanted more air, or was desirous of seeing more distinctly. It was perhaps never down but in actual combat; whilst the beaver would be thrown up or kept down at the wearer's discretion, without much difference, except that in battle it would be closed, and at meals, or for additional coolness, thrown up. In short, the visor or beaver could only be let down after they had been already lifted up; and when a writer speaks of their being down, it is generally meant that the helmet is closed. See Grose's Treatise on Ancient Armour, plates 10, 26, 30. Douce. Mr. Douce in his Illustrations has given us several representations of ancient helmets, to exemplify his remarks. Boswell.

Note return to page 919 For the following curious paper, relating to the frequent robberies on Gadshill in our author's time, I am indebted to my friend Mr. Ellis of the British Museum. Boswell. Gadshill, on the Kentish road, the scene of the robbery of Falstaff in The First Part of Shakspeare's Henry the Fourth, has been but slightly noticed, and that by one only of the commentators on our great bard. Mr. Steevens informs us, that as early as 1558, a ballad entitled The Robbery at Gadshill was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company; and this place is again noticed as dangerous in the play of Westward Hoe, published in 1606. Shakspeare, however, on whom the more noted facts and events of his time were never lost, probably alluded to the conduct of a particular gang, who appear in 1590, to have infested Gadshill and its neighbourhood with more than common daringness; and who, like Shakspeare's robbers, were mounted and wore vizors. The particulars respecting them are found in a Narrative preserved among the Lansdown Manuscripts in the British Museum, in the hand-writing of Sir Roger Manwood, at that time Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and indorsed with the date of 3d July, 1590.

Note return to page 920 “Circumstances vrginge me Sr. Roger Manwood to proceade to the late indytinge of Curtall, Manweringe, and other Malefactors in Kent. “When a Contrye is anoyed with frequent Robberyes, and the malefactors not discovered, I holde yt to bee a good parte of Justice to examyne and learne what persons in the contry doe havnt Innes, typling howses, and highe wayes, ryding gallantlye, lyvinge in Apparell and other expences far above their knowne lawfull meanes of lyvinge and abilitye; of which sorte Manweringe, Curtall, and Essex, weare knowne to bee iij. “In October, at beginninge of last Mychaelmas Terme iij or iiijor robberyes done at Gadeshill by certen ffoote theves, vppon hughe and crye, one of the Theves named Zachfeild flying and sqvatted in a bushe was brought to me, and vppon examynac&obar;n fyndinge a purse and things about him suspiciouse, and his cause of being there and his flyinge and other circumstances very suspiciouse, I commytted him to the Jayle, and he ys of that robberye indyted. “In the course of that Mychaelmas Terme, I being at London, many robberyes weare done in the hye wayes at Gadeshill on the west parte of Rochester, and at Chatham downe on the East parte of Rochester, by horse theves, with suche fatt and lustye horses as weare not lyke hackney horsses nor farr jorneyng horsses, and one of them sometyme wearing a vizarde greye bearde, (by reason that to the persons robbed the Theves did use to mynister an othe that there should bee no hue and crye made after, and also did gyve a watche woorde for the parties robbed, the better to escape other of their Theves companye devyded vppon the hyghe waye,) he was by common report in the Contry called Justice greye Bearde; and no man durst travell that waye without great companye. “After thend of that Mychaelmas terme, iij or iiij gentn: from London, rydinge home towards Canterburye, at the West end of Gadeshill, we are overtaken by v. or vj horsemen all in Clokes vpp about their faces, and fellowe like all, and none lyke servants or waytinge on thother, and swiftly ridinge by them gat to the East end of Gadeshill, and there turned about all their horsses on the faces of the trewe men, wherby they became in feare; but by chanse one of the trewe men did knowe this Curtall to bee one of the v or vj. swift ryders, and after some speache betwene them of the manyfold robberyes there done and that by company of this Curtall that gentleman hoped to have the more saffetye from robbing, this Curtall, with the other v or vj swifte ryders, rode awaye to Rochester before, and the trewe men coming afterwards neere Rochester they did mete this Curtall retorning on horsebacke, rydinge towards Gadeshill againe. And after they had passed Rochester, in Chatham streete, at a smyths fordge they did see the reste of the swyft ryders tarying about shoing of some of their horsses, and then the trewe men doubted to be sett vppon at Chathan downe, but their company being the greater they passed without troble to Sittingborne that nighte when they harde of robberyes daylye done at Chatham downe and Gadeshill, and that this Curtall with v or vj other as lustye Companyons and well horssed mvche havnted the Innes and typlinge howses at Raynham, Sittingborne, and Rochester, with liberall expences. Afterwards at a howse wheare payment of monye was made, and by chance vppon the monye pooringe out (one Testerne) fell from the heape, and whiles the partie was busye in telling the heape, this Curtall being in companye, toke awaye that Testerne, and being in talke with one of his acquaintance, who sayde he marvelled to see Curtall in so good estate for apparell and horsse and other mayntenance, Curtall sayde that he spent cli by yeare; thother asking him howe he came by somuche lyvinge Curtall answered that he dyd serve no man, but lyved of himselfe, but, nowe and then, when yt pleased him he had entertaynment at the howse of his good Captaine Sr. Edward Hobby, and in the course of that winter nere Chatham downe, within a myle or ij of Sr. Edward Hobbyes howse weare manye robberyes done, uppon one Gason, one Chapman, one Manser, and many others, but no discoverye of the malefactors. Howbeyt one Shawe of Rochester nere Chatham downe, rydinge in the hye waye was sett vppon by ffoote theves who did fell him from his horsse, and by other trewe mens company cominge he escaped robbinge, which Shawe, vppon his cominge to Rochester beinge examyned by a Justice of Peace sayde that for the hurte to him done he would bee revenged vppon this Curtall, and one other Parker, Sr Edward Hobbyes Cater, whom he did know to bee ij of them that sett vppon him. Afterwards, at Lent Assizes, one Manwaringe, a notoriouse theife and a famylier of Curtall was araigned for a Fellonye, and notwithstandinge plaine evidence againste him, was acquitted by a badd Jury which weare by the Justices of Assize bound over to awnsweare for their misdemeanor, and Curtall was present at the same Assizes and thought he did vse meanes for helpinge of his ffreind Manwaringe. And notwithstandinge that Acquittall of Manwaringe, the same Manwaringe was for a burglarye done in Canterburye and other matter of felonye (besydes that whereof he was acquitted) repryed to the Jayle by the Justices of Assize and Gaiole deliverye before my coming home from Circuit, Sr. Edward Hobbye came to Canterburye and there procured some one or ij other Justices of the Peace unlearned in the lawe to bayle Manwaringe, and so a notoriouse theife ys escaped from his deserved pvnishment, a manifeste contempt againste Justice for Justices of Peace to bayle a prysoner (repryed without bayle by Justices of Assize aud gaole deliverye): and because a Justice of Peace who had travelled in thexamynacion of Manwarings offence, and, declaringe to Sr. Edward Hobbye the Repry of the Justices of Assize and Gaole deliverye, would not ioyne in bayle of Manwaringe, therefore with reproachfull speeches, the sayde Sr. Edward Hobbye grewe in offence withe the same Justice: whiche Manwaring and the sayd Curtall weare great famyllyars. Afterwards the Customer of Sandwiche with his men rydinge in the hye waye betwene Chatham downe and Syttingborne this Curtall came by one horsebacke swyftelye vuinge and crying aloude zaghe, zaghe, after a Frenche manner, in suche wyse as the Customer and his man became in some dismaye, and then one other horseman, a ffamyliar of Curtalls and knowne to the Customer, told the Customer he shoulde not neade to feare; The Customer asked who that man was that so ranne by a horsebacke cryinge zagh, zagh, and he told him it was Curtall, who was commonly called Justice Grey Bearde, but sayde that the Customer should have no hurte, and so the Customer passed to Syttingborne. After all these aforesayde circumstances declared to me, I finding the Robberyes to be suche and so manye as the contrye was grevyd and greatly annoyed, and against the malefactors suspected no Justice of peace durst proceade, and finding that Manwaring, a notoriouse theife was contemptuosely sett at libertye by Sir Edward Hobbye, and being at libertye was like to doe muche mischeife, and that this Curtall and Manwaring kepte themselves aboute Sr. Edward Hobbyes howse in the Isle of Sheppey, where no Constable or any like officer from the partes about Canterburye durste there entermedle, and finding that the over nomber of typling howses did muche harbor and encrease malefactors, for some reformacion of those ij myscheiffes thought good withe advise of some other of the Justices of peace learned in the lawe to hold a speciall Sessions for inquirye and reformacion of those ij matters; At which Sessions vppon dewe sommons weare eight or ix Justices of peace; and I geving a brief chardge gave one note for reformacion of those inordynate robberyes that persons by common fame suspected to lyve havnting Innes and ryding in the hye wayes from place to place with apparell and expences farr exceadinge their knowne lyvings and abilyties weare moste lyke to bee the malefactors, of which sorte I declared what circumstances to me had bene confessed touching Curtall, and Manwaringe, and shewed a purse with a horne whistle for a call amonge theves dispersed in a woode, by myselfe taken vppon one Zachfeild after a robbery at Gadeshill att begininge of mychaelmas terme And I did give an other noate for suppressinge of vnnessessarye typling howses with the names of them also, wheruppon the Jurye more of their owne knowledge, lying in the Contrye, all the wynter, than of my knowledge lying in London, did endyte Curtall and Manwaringe, and presented dyverse of the typling howses, and no man of myne was any of the Jurye, after which specyall Sessions an other robberye of one Hall in the Queenes highe waye was done at Elham fayre by iiij.or or v. horsemen theves, and by myne Examynacion and searche I found John Essex, a lyke myspender of his thrifte and lyving as Curtall ys, to bee one of that companye, And theruppon I rode to Maydstone Quarter Sessions, and there, upon my Chardge and Notes shewed the sayde Essex was also indited, and so by meanes the said iiijor. malefactors be indyted, viz. Zachfield, Manwaring, Curtall, and Essex, iij. of them beinge yet at lardge and cannot be apprehended: howbeyt this my begininge of proceadinge against them hathe shattered the Nestes and Companyes, so that Robberyes hathe not vsually bene done since as weare before to the good quiett and comforte of the Contrye which was the cause I did only seeke without malice to any person as God shall be my judge. And for the mystakinge of the daye and tyme of the robberye layde in thendytment or super hominem Ignotum, that ys in lawe not materyall, so as uppon evidence at th'araignment the facte may be proved to be done uppon any man at another daye, and to aggravate any evydence at th'arraignment at Thassizes I will not yf Manwaring and Curtall his famyliar will appeare at the Assizes, and if Curtall will declare truly the names of those iiijor. or v. of his swifte rydinge companyons who did overtake Mr. Fyneux, Mr. Smythe, Mr. Pryse, and Mr. Hadds, at Gaddeshill after thend of laste Mychaelmas terme, wherbye the havntinge robberyes in the hye waye ceasse, and not be frequent as they have bene. Henry Ellis.”

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