Note return to page 1 *There are several editions of the Gesta Romanorum before 1488. Douce.

Note return to page 2 *Such a theatrical mistake will not appear improbable to the reader who recollects that in the fourth scene of the first Act of The Third Part of King Henry VI. instead of “tigers of Hircania,” —the players have given us—“tigers of Arcadia.” Instead of “an Até,” in King John—“an ace.” Instead of “Panthino,” in The Two Gentlemen of Verona,—“Panthion.” Instead of “Polydore,” in Cymbeline,—“Paladour,” was continued through all the editions till that of 1773. The corrupt state of this play, as it was originally printed, is certainly such as Mr. Steevens has described; yet even here it may perhaps have been shown that, in some instances, that gentleman's dashing style of emendation was unnecessary; and, I am afraid, this edition of Shakspeare will afford too many proofs of his not having been so scrupulous as he has described himself in making no alterations in other plays without notice to the reader. Boswell.

Note return to page 3 1Pentapolis.] This is an imaginary city, and its name might have been borrowed from some romance. We meet indeed in history with Pentapolitana regio, a country in Africa, consisting of five cities; and from thence perhaps some novelist furnished the sounding title of Pentapolis, which occurs likewise in the 37th chapter of Kyng Appolyn of Tyre, 1510, as well as in Gower, the Gesta Romanorum, and Twine's translation from it. It should not, however, be concealed, that Pentapolis is also found in an ancient map of the world, MS. in the Cotton Library, British Museum, Tiberius, b. v. That the reader may know through how many regions the scene of this drama is dispersed, it is necessary to observe that Antioch was the metropolis of Syria: Tyre, a city of Phœnicia in Asia; Tarsus, the metropolis of Cicilia, a country of Asia Minor; Mitylene, the capital of Lesbos, an island in the Ægean Sea; and Ephesus, the capital of Ionia, a country of the lesser Asia. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 2&lblank; that old was sung,] I do not know that old is by any author used adverbially. We might read: “To sing a song of old was sung &lblank;.” i. e. that of old, &c. But the poet is so licentious in the language which he has attributed to Gower in this piece, that I have not ventured to make any change. Malone. I have adopted Mr. Malone's emendation, which was evidently wanted. Steevens.

Note return to page 5 3&lblank; Gower is come;] The defect of metre (sung and come being no rhymes) points out, in my opinion, that we should read: “From ashes ancient Gower sprung;” alluding to the restoration of the Phœnix. Steevens.

Note return to page 6 4It hath been sung at festivals, On ember-eves, and holy-ales;] i. e. says Dr. Farmer, by whom this emendation was made, church-ales. The old copy has —holy days. Gower's speeches were certainly intended to rhyme throughout. Malone.

Note return to page 7 5&lblank; of their lives &lblank;] The old copies read—in their lives. The emendation was suggested by Dr. Farmer. Malone. I cannot think it necessary. ‘Lords and ladies, who lived long ago, whilst they lived, read it with delight.’ Boswell.

Note return to page 8 6'Purpose to make glorious; &c.] Old copy: “The purchase is to make men glorious;” &c. Steevens. There is an irregularity of metre in this couplet. The same variation is observable in Macbeth: “I am for the air; this night I'll spend “Unto a dismal and a fatal end.” The old copies read—The purchase, &c. Mr. Steevens suggested this emendation of purpose for purchase. Malone. Being now convinced that all the irregular lines detected in The Midsummer-Night's Dream, Macbeth, and Pericles have been prolonged by interpolations which afford no additional beauties, I am become more confident in my attempt to mend the passage before us. Throughout this play it should seem to be a very frequent practice of the reciter, or transcriber, to supply words which, for some foolish reason or other, were supposed to be wanting. Unskilled in the language of poetry, and more especially in that which was clouded by an affectation of antiquity, these ignorant people regarded many contractions and ellipses, as indications of somewhat accidentally omitted; and while they inserted only monosyllables or unimportant words in imaginary vacancies, they conceived themselves to be doing little mischief. Liberties of this kind must have been taken with the piece under consideration. The measure of it is too regular and harmonious in many places, for us to think it was utterly neglected in the rest. As this play will never be received as the entire composition of Shakspeare, and as violent disorders require medicines of proportionable violence, I have been by no means scrupulous in striving to reduce the metre to that exactness which I suppose it originally to have possessed. Of the same license I should not have availed myself, had I been employed on any of the undisputed dramas of our author. Those experiments which we are forbidden to perform on living subjects, may properly be attempted on dead ones, among which our Pericles may be reckoned; being dead, in its present form, to all purposes of the stage, and of no very promising life in the closet. “The purpose is to make men glorious, “Et bonum quo antiquius eo melius.” The original saying is—Bonum quo communius, eo melius. As I suppose these lines, with their context, to have originally stood as follows, I have so given them: “And lords and ladies, of their lives “Have read it as restoratives: “'Purpose to make men glorious; “Et quo antiquius, eo melius.” This innovation may seem to introduce obscurity; but in huddling words on each other, without their necessary articles and prepositions, the chief skill of our present imitator of antiquated rhyme appears to have consisted. Again, old copy: “This Antioch then, Antiochus the great “Built up; this city, for his chiefest seat.” I suppose the original lines were these, and as such have printed them: “This city then, Antioch the great “Built up for his chiefest seat.” Another redundant line offers itself in the same chorus: “Bad child, worse father! to entice his own &lblank;.” which I also give as I conceive it to have originally stood, thus: “Bad father! to entice his own &lblank;.” The words omitted are of little consequence, and the artificial comparison between the guilt of the parent and the child, has no resemblance to the simplicity of Gower's narratives. The lady's frailty is sufficiently stigmatized in the ensuing lines. See my further sentiments concerning the irregularities of Shakspeare's metre, in a note on The Tempest, vol. xv. p. 84, n. 9; and again in vol. xi. p. 182, n. l. Steevens. See them opposed in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification, vol. ii. Boswell.

Note return to page 9 7&lblank; for his chiefest seat;] So, in Twine's translation:— “The most famous and mighty King Antiochus, which builded the goodlie city of Antiochia in Syria, and called it after his owne name, as the chiefest seat of all his dominions.” Steevens.

Note return to page 10 8(I tell you what mine authors say:)] This is added in imitation of Gower's manner, and that of Chaucer, Lydgate, &c. who often thus refer to the original of these tales.—These choruses resemble Gower in few other particulars. Steevens.

Note return to page 11 9&lblank; unto him took a pheere,] This word, which is frequently used by our old poets, signifies a mate or companion. The old copies have peer. For the emendation I am answerable. Throughout this piece, the poet, though he has not closely copied the language of Gower's poem, has endeavoured to give his speeches somewhat of an antique air. Malone.

Note return to page 12 1&lblank; full of face,] i. e. completely, exuberantly beautiful. A full fortune, in Othello, means a complete, a large one. Malone.

Note return to page 13 2By custom, what they did begin,] All the copies read, unintelligibly—But custom, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 14 3&lblank; account no sin.] Account for accounted. So, in King John, waft for wafted: “Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er.” Steevens. Again, in Gascoigne's Complaint of Philomene, 1575: “And by the lawde of his pretence “His lewdness was acquit.” The old copies read account'd. For the correction I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 15 4&lblank; thither frame,] i. e. shape or direct their course thither. Malone.

Note return to page 16 5(To keep her still, and men in awe,)] The meaning, I think, is not ‘to keep her and men in awe,’ but ‘to keep her still to himself, and to deter others from demanding her in marriage.’ Malone. Mr. Malone has properly interpreted this passage. So, in Twine's translation: “&lblank; which false resemblance of hateful marriage, to the intent that he might alwaies enjoy, he invented, &c. to drive away all suitors that should resort unto her, by propounding,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 17 6&lblank; many a wight &lblank;] The quarto 1609 reads—many of wight. Corrected in the folio. Malone. Perhaps the correction is erroneous, and we should read, nearer to the traces of the old copy— “So for her many of might did die &lblank;.” i. e. many men of might. Thus, afterwards: “Yon sometime famous princes,” &c. The w in the quarto 1609, might be only an m reversed. Steevens.

Note return to page 18 7As yon grim looks do testify.] Gower must be supposed here to point to the heads of those unfortunate wights, which, he tells us, in his poem, were fixed on the gate of the palace at Antioch: “The fader, whan he understood “That thei his doughter thus besought, “With all his wit he cast and sought “Howe that he mighte fynde a lette; “And such a statute then he sette, “And in this wise his lawe taxeth, “That what man his doughter axeth, “But if he couth his question “Assoyle upon suggestion, “Of certeyn thinges that befell, “The which he wolde unto him tell, “He shulde in certeyn lese his hede: “And thus there were many dede, “Her heades stonding on the gate; “Till at last, long and late, “For lack of answere in this wise “The remenant, that wexen wyse, “Eschewden to make assaie.” Malone. “As yon grim looks do testify.” This is an indication to me of the use of scenery in our ancient theatres. I suppose the audience were here entertained with a view of a kind of Temple Bar at Antioch. Steevens.

Note return to page 19 8What now ensues.] The folio—What ensues. The original copy has—What now ensues. Malone.

Note return to page 20 9&lblank; my cause who best can justify.] i. e. which (the judgment of your eye) best can justify, i. e. prove its resemblance to the ordinary course of nature. So, afterwards: “When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge &lblank;.” But as no other of the four next chorusses concludes with a heroick couplet, unless through interpolation, I suspect that the two lines before us originally stood thus: “What now ensues, “I give to the judgment of your eye, “My cause who best can justify.” In another of Gower's monologues there is an avowed hemistich: “And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit “The epitaph is for Marina writ “By wicked Dionyza.” See Act IV. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 21 1Young prince of Tyre,] It does not appear in the present drama, that the father of Pericles is living. By prince, therefore, throughout this play, we are to understand prince regnant. See Act II. Sc. IV. and in the epitaph Act III. Sc. III. In the Gesta Romanorum, Apollonius is king of Tyre; and Appolyn, in Copland's translation from the French, has the same title. Our author, in calling Pericles a prince, seems to have followed Gower. Malone. In Twine's translation he is repeatedly called “Prince of Tyrus.” Steevens.

Note return to page 22 2Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,] All the copies read: “Musick, bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride &lblank;.” The metre proves decisively that the word musick was a marginal direction, inserted in the text by the mistake of the transcriber or printer. Malone. The very frequent occurrence of Alexandrines in our author's plays, and those of his contemporaries, makes me doubt if the metre proves any thing decisively. It does not seem probable, that the musick would commence at the close of Pericles's speech, without an order from the king. Boswell.

Note return to page 23 3For the embracements even of Jove himself; At whose conception, (till Lucina reign'd,) Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, &c.] It appears to me, that by her conception, Shakspeare means her birth; and that till is here used in the sense of while. So, in The Scornful Lady, Loveless says to Morecraft: “Will you persevere?” To which he replies: “Till I have a penny.” That is, whilst I have one. And on the other hand, while sometimes signifies till; as in Wit at Several Weapons, Pompey says: “I'll lie under the bed while midnight,” &c. And in Massinger's Old Law, Simonides says to Cleanthes: “I'll trust you while your father's dead;” Meaning, ‘until he be dead;’ the words being used indiscriminately for each other in the old dramatick writers: and it is to be observed that they are both expressed in Latin by the same word, donec. The meaning of the passage, according to my apprehension, is this:—“At whose birth, during the time of her mother's labour, over which Lucina was supposed to preside, the planets all sat in council in order to endow her with the rarest perfections.” And this agrees with the principles of judicial astrology, a folly prevalent in Shakspeare's time; according to which the beauty, the disposition, as well as the fortune of all human beings was supposed to depend upon the aspect of the stars at the time they were born, not at the time in which they were conceived. M. Mason. Perhaps the error lies in the word conception, and instead of it we ought to read concession. The meaning will then be obvious, and especially if we adopt Mr. M. Mason's sense of the preposition till.—“Bring in (says Antiochus) my daughter habited like a bride for Jove himself, at whose concession (i. e. by whose grant or leave,) nature bestowed this dowry upon her—While she was struggling into the world, the planets held a consultation how they should unite in her the utmost perfection their blended influence could bestow.”—It should be observed, that the preposition at sometimes signifies in consequence of. Thus, in The Comedy of Errors: “Whom I made lord of me, and all I had, “At your important letters.” This change of a word allows the sense for which Mr. M. Mason contends, and without his strange supposal, that by her conception was meant her birth. The thought is expressed with less obscurity in King Appolyn of Tyre, 1510: “&lblank; For nature had put nothynge in oblyvyon at the fourminge of her, but as a chef operacyon had set her in the syght of the worlde.” Steevens. In the speech now before us, the words whose and her may, I think, refer to the daughter of Antiochus, without greater licence than is taken by Shakspeare in many of his plays. So, in Othello: “Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona: whom [i. e. our general] let us not therefore blame, he hath not yet made wanton the night with her.” I think the construction is, “at whose conception the senate-house of planets all did sit,” &c. and that the words, “till Lucina reign'd, Nature,” &c. are parenthetical. Malone.

Note return to page 24 4The senate-house of planets all did sit, To knit in her their best perfections.] I suspect that a rhyme was here intended, and that we ought to transpose the words in the second line, as follows: “The senate-house of planets all did sit, “Their best perfections in her to knit.” To the contagion of this couplet perhaps we owe the subsequent fit of rhyming in which Pericles indulges himself, at the expence of readers and commentators. The leading thought, indeed, appears to have been adopted from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii: “The senate-house of the planets was at no time so set for the decreeing of perfection in a man,” &c. Thus also, Milton, Paradise Lost, viii. 511: “&lblank; all heaven, “And happy constellations, on that hour “Shed their selectest influence.” The sentiment of Antiochus, however, is expressed with less affectation in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; the elements “So mix'd in him, that nature might stand up, “And say to all the world, This was a man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 25 5See, where she comes, &c.] In this speech of Pericles, a transposition perhaps is necessary. We might therefore read: “See where she comes apparell'd like the king, “Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the spring “Of every virtue,” &c. Antiochus had commanded that his daughter should be clothed in a manner suitable to the bride of Jove; and thus dressed in royal robes, she may be said to be apparell'd like the king. After all, I am dissatisfied with my own conjecture, and cannot help suspecting some deep corruption in the words of Pericles. With what propriety can a lady's thoughts be styled—“the king of every virtue?” &c. Let the reader exert his sagacity on this occasion.—In a subsequent scene, Jupiter is called the “king of thoughts;” and in King Henry IV. Part I. Douglas tells Hotspur that he is the “king of honour;” but neither of these passages will solve our present difficulty. We might read: “&lblank; and her thoughts the wing “Of every virtue,” &c. For in All's Well That Ends Well, we have “a virtue of a good wing.” That every virtue may borrow wings (i. e. derive alacrity) from the sentiments of a young, beautiful, and virtuous woman, is a truth that cannot be denied. Pericles, at this instant, supposes the daughter of Antiochus to be as good as she is fair. The passage, indeed, with another change as slight, may convey as obvious a meaning. She comes (says Pericles) adorned with all the colours of the spring; the Graces are proud to enroll themselves among her subjects; and the king, (i. e. the chief) of every virtue that ennobles humanity, impregnates her mind: “Graces her subjects, in her thoughts the king “Of every virtue,” &c. In short, she has no superior in beauty, yet still she is herself under the dominion of virtue. But having already stated my belief that this passage is incurably depraved, I must now add, that my present attempts to restore it are, even in my own judgment, as decidedly abortive. Steevens. It would be a tame, and almost a ludicrous expression to say of a young princess, that she was “apparell'd like the king.” That her thoughts were the king of every virtue, that is, that she was in full possession of every virtue, does not seem to me peculiarly harsh. Boswell.

Note return to page 26 6Her face, the book of praises, where is read Nothing but curious pleasures,] In what sense a lady's face can be styled a book of praises (unless by a very forced construction it be understood to mean an aggregate of what is praiseworthy,) I profess my inability to understand. A seemingly kindred thought occurs in a MS. play, entitled The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “Tyrant. Thy honours with thy daughter's love shall rise, “I shall read thy deservings in her eyes. “Helvetius. O may they be eternal books of pleasure “To show you all delight.” Steevens. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, “And find delight writ there with beauty's pen.” Again, in Macbeth: “Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men “May read strange matters.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, “Where all those pleasures live, that art could comprehend.” The same image is also found in his Rape of Lucrece, and in Coriolanus. Praises is here used for beauties, the cause of admiration and praise. Malone. So, in The Elder Brother, Charles says to Angelina,— “&lblank; She has a face looks like a story; “The story of the heavens looks very like her.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 27 7Sorrow were ever ras'd,] Our author has again this expression in Macbeth: “Rase out the written troubles of the brain.” The second quarto, 1619, and all the subsequent copies, read —rackt. The first quarto—racte, which is only the old spelling of ras'd; the verb being formerly written race. Thus, in Dido, Queen of Carthage, by Marlowe and Nashe, 1594: “But I will take another order now, “And race the eternal register of time.” The metaphor in the preceding line— “Her face, the book of praises,” shows clearly that this was the author's word. Malone.

Note return to page 28 8&lblank; and testy wrath Could never be her mild companion.] This is a bold expression: —testy wrath could not well be a mild companion to any one; but by her mild companion, Shakspeare means the companion of her mildness. M. Mason.

Note return to page 29 9That have inflam'd desire in my breast,] It should be remembered, that desire was sometimes used as a trisyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 30 1To compass such a boundless happiness!] All the old copies have bondless. The reading of the text was furnished by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 31 2Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,] In the enumeration of the persons prefixed to this drama, which was first made by the editor of Shakspeare's plays in 1664, and copied without alteration by Mr. Rowe, the daughter of Antiochus is, by a ridiculous mistake, called Hesperides, an error to which this line seems to have given rise. Shakspeare was not quite accurate in his notion of the Hesperides, but he certainly never intended to give this appellation to the princess of Antioch: for it appears from Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Scene the last, that he thought Hesperides was the name of the garden in which the golden apples were kept; in which sense the word is certainly used in the passage now before us: “For valour, is not love a Hercules, “Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?” In the first quarto edition of this play, this lady is only called Antiochus' daughter. If Shakspeare had wished to have introduced a female name derived from the Hesperides, he has elsewhere shown that he knew how such a name ought to be formed; for in As You Like It, mention is made of “Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman.” Malone.

Note return to page 32 3Her countless glory,] The countless glory of a face seems a harsh expression; but the poet, probably, was thinking of the stars, the countless eyes of heaven, as he calls them in p. 26. Malone. I read—A countless glory,—i. e. her face, like the firmament, invites you to a blaze of beauties too numerous to be counted. In the first book of the Corinthians, ch. xv.: “&lblank; there is another glory of the stars.” Steevens.

Note return to page 33 4&lblank; all thy whole heap must die,] i. e. thy whole mass must be destroyed. There seems to have been an opposition intended. “Thy whole heap,” thy body, must suffer for the offence of a part, thine eye. The word bulk, like heap in the present passage, was used for body by Shakspeare and his contemporaries. See vol. vii. p. 261, n. 1. The old copies read—“all the whole heap.” I am answerable for this correction. Malone.

Note return to page 34 5Yon sometime famous princes, &c.] See before p. 15, n. 7. Malone. So, in Twine's translation: “&lblank; and his head was set up at the gate, to terrifie others that should come, who beholding there the present image of death, might aduise them from assaying any such danger. These outrages practised Antiochus, to the end he might continue in filthy incest with his daughter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 35 6&lblank; without covering, save yon field of stars,] Thus, Lucan, lib. vii.: &lblank; cœlo tegitur qui non habet urnam. Steevens.

Note return to page 36 7And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist,] Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; think upon these gone: “Let them affright thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 37 8For going on death's net,] Thus the old copies, and rightly. For going means the same as for fear of going. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Lucetta says of the fragments of a letter: “Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold.” i. e. for fear of it. See vol. iv. p. 26, n. 3. It were easy to subjoin a croud of instances in support of the original reading. Steevens. I would read—in death's net. Percy.

Note return to page 38 9&lblank; like to them, to what I must:] That is,—to prepare this body for that state to which I must come. Malone.

Note return to page 39 1Who know the world, see heaven, but feeling woe, &c.] The meaning may be—“I will act as sick men do; who having had experience of the pleasures of the world, and only a visionary and distant prospect of heaven, have neglected the latter for the former; but at length feeling themselves decaying, grasp no longer at temporal pleasures, but prepare calmly for futurity. Malone. Malone has justly explained the meaning of this passage, but he has not shown how the words, as they stand, will bear that meaning: Some amendment appears to me absolutely necessary, and that which I should propose is to read— “Who now in the world see heaven,” &c. That is, who at one time of their lives find heaven in the pleasures of the world, but after having tasted of misfortune, begin to be weaned from the joys of it. Were we to make a further alteration, and read—“seek heaven,” instead of—“see heaven,” the expression would be stronger; but that is not necessary. M. Mason.

Note return to page 40 2Read the conclusion then;] This and the two following lines are given in the first quarto to Pericles; and the word Antiochus, which is now placed in the margin, makes part of his speech. There can be no doubt that they belong to Antiochus. Malone. These lines in the old copies stand as follows: “Thus ready for the way of life or death “I wayte the sharpest blow (Antiochus) “Scorning aduice; read the conclusion then: “Which read,” &c. Unbroken measure, as well as the spirit of this passage, perhaps decide in favour of its present arrangement. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus, “Scorning advice. “Ant. Read the conclusion then:” Boswell.

Note return to page 41 3In all, save that, &c.] Old copy: “Of all said yet, may'st thou prove prosperous! “Of all said yet, I wish thee happiness!” 'Said is here apparently contracted for assay'd, i. e. tried, attempted. Percy. She cannot wish him more prosperous, with respect to the exposition of the riddle, than the other persons who had attempted it before; for as the necessary consequence of his expounding it would be the publication of her own shame, we cannot suppose that she should wish him to succeed in that. The passage is evidently corrupt, and should probably be corrected by reading the lines thus: “In all, save that, may'st thou prove prosperous! “In all, save that, I wish thee happiness!” Her father had just said to Pericles, that his life depended on his expounding the riddle; and the daughter, who feels a regard for the Prince, expresses it by deprecating his fate, and wishing him success in every thing except that. She wishes that he may not expound the riddle, but that his failing to do so may be attended with prosperous consequences. When we consider how licentious Shakspeare frequently is in the use of his particles, it may not perhaps be thought necessary to change the word of, in the beginning of these lines, for the word in. There is no great difference in the traces of the letters between said and save; and the words that and yet have one common abbreviation, viz. yt. M. Mason. I have inserted Mr. M. Mason's conjecture in the text, as it gives a more reasonable turn to the speech than has hitherto been supplied; and because it is natural to wish that the only words assigned to this lady, might have some apt and determinate meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 42 4Nor ask advice of any other thought But faithfulness, and courage.] This is from the third book of Sidney's Arcadia: “Whereupon asking advice of no other thought but faithfulnesse and courage, he presently lighted from his own horse,” &c. edit. 1633, p. 253. Steevens.

Note return to page 43 5He reads the Riddle.] The riddle is thus described in Gower: “Questio regis Antiochi.—Scelere vehor, maternâ carne vescor, quero patrem meum, matris meæ virum, uxoris meæ filium.” “With felonie I am upbore, “I ete, and have it not forlore, “My moders fleshe whose husbonde “My fader for to seche I fonde, “Which is the sonne eke of my wife, “Hereof I am inquisitife. “And who that can my tale save, “All quite he shall my doughter have. “Of his answere and if he faile, “He shall be dead withouten faile.” Malone.

Note return to page 44 6I sought a husband, in which labour, I found that kindness in a father,] The defective rhyme which labour affords to father, and the obscurity indeed of the whole couplet, induce me to suppose it might originally have stood thus: “I sought a husband; in which rather “I found the kindness of a father.” In which (i. e. in whom, for this pronoun anciently related to persons as well as things) I rather found parental than marital love. Steevens.

Note return to page 45 7As you will live, resolve it you.] This duplication is common enough to ancient writers. So, in King Henry IV. Part I. “I'll drink no more; for no man's pleasure I.” Malone.

Note return to page 46 8Sharp physick is the last:] i. e. the intimation in the last line of the riddle that his life depends on resolving it; which he properly enough calls sharp physick, or a bitter potion. Percy.

Note return to page 47 9That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; who more engilds the night, “Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.” Malone.

Note return to page 48 1&lblank; countless eyes &lblank; Why cloud they not &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; stars, hide your fires, “Let not light see,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 49 2For he's no man on whom perfections wait,] Means no more than—he's no honest man, that knowing, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 50 3&lblank; to make man &lblank;] i. e. to produce for man, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 51 4But, &c. Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime:] Somewhat like this occurs in Milton's Ode at a Solemn Musick: “&lblank; disproportion'd sin “Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din “Broke the fair musick &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 52 5Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life.] This is a stroke of nature. The incestuous king cannot bear to see a rival touch the hand of the woman he loves. His jealousy resembles that of Antony: “&lblank; to let him be familiar with “My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal, “And plighter of high hearts.” Steevens. Malefort, in Massinger's Unnatural Combat, expresses the like impatient jealousy, when Beaufort touches his daughter Theocrine, to whom he was betrothed. M. Mason.

Note return to page 53 6For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself;] That is, which blows dust, &c. The man who knows of the ill practices of princes, is unwise if he reveals what he knows; for the publisher of vicious actions resembles the wind, which, while it passes along, blows dust into men's eyes.—When the blast is over, the eye that has been affected by the dust, suffers no farther pain, but can see as clearly as before; so by the relation of criminal acts, the eyes of mankind (though they are affected, and turn away with horror,) are opened, and see clearly what before was not even suspected: but by exposing the crimes of others, the relater suffers himself; as the breeze passes away, so the breath of the informer is gone; he dies for his temerity. Yet, to stop the course or ventilation of the air, would hurt the eyes; and to prevent informers from divulging the crimes of men would be prejudicial to mankind. Such, I think, is the meaning of this obscure passage. Malone.

Note return to page 54 7The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: To stop the air would hurt them.] Malone has mistaken the meaning of this part of the speech is Pericles:—There should be no stop after the word clear, that line being necessarily connected with the following words; and the meaning is this: “The breath is gone, and the eyes, though sore, see clear enough to stop for the future the air that would annoy them.” Malone supposes the sentence to end with the first of these lines, and makes the other a general political aphorism, not perceiving that, “to stop the air would hurt them;” means only to “stop the air that would hurt them;” the pronoun being omitted; an ellipsis frequent not only in poetry, but in prose. Pericles means only, by this similitude, to show the danger of revealing the crimes of princes; for as they feel themselves hurt by the publication of their shame, they will, of course, prevent a repetition of it, by destroying the person who divulged it: He pursues the same idea in the instance of the mole, and concludes with requesting that the king would— “Give his tongue like leave to love his head.” That is, that he would not force his tongue to speak what, if spoken, would prove his destruction. In the second scene Pericles says, speaking of the King: “And what may make him blush in being known, “He'll stop the course by which it might be known.” Which confirms my explanation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 55 8Copp'd bills &lblank;] i. e. rising to a top or head. So, in P. Holland's translation of the eleventh book of Pliny's Natural History, “And few of them have cops or crested tufts upon their heads.” Copped Hall, in Essex, was so named from the lofty pavilion on the roof of the old house, which has been since pulled down. The upper tire of masonry that covers a wall is still called the copping or coping. High-crowned hats were anciently called copatain hats. Steevens.

Note return to page 56 9&lblank; the earth is wrong'd By man's oppression;] Old copies—throng'd. For this change I am answerable. Steevens. The old reading is more forcible. The earth is oppressed by the injuries which crowd upon her. So, in the Tatler, as quoted by Johnson in his Dictionary in voc.: “His mother could not longer bear the agitation of so many passions as thronged upon her.” Boswell.

Note return to page 57 1&lblank; and the poor worm doth die for't,] I suppose he means to call the mole, (which suffers in its attempts to complain of man's injustice) a poor worm, as a term of commiseration. Thus, in The Tempest, Prospero speaking to Miranda, says: “Poor worm! thou art infected.” The mole remains secure till he has thrown up those hillocks, which, by pointing out the course he is pursuing, enable the vermin-hunter to catch him. Steevens.

Note return to page 58 2Heaven, that I had thy head!] The speaker may either mean to say, “O, that I had thy ingenuity!” or, “O, that I had thy head, sever'd from thy body!” The latter, I believe, is the meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 59 3But I will gloze with him.] So, Gower: “The kinge was wondre sorie tho, “And thought, if that he said it oute, “Then were he shamed all aboute: “With slie wordes and with felle “He sayth: My sonne I shall thee telle, “Though that thou be of littel witte,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 60 4&lblank; our strict edíct,] The old copy has—your strict edict. Corrected in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 61 5Your exposition misinterpreting,] Your exposition of the riddle being a mistaken one; not interpreting it rightly. Malone.

Note return to page 62 6&lblank; to cancel of your days;] The quarto, 1609, reads—to counsel of your days; which may mean, ‘to deliberate how long you shall be permitted to live.’ But I believe that counsel was merely an error of the press, which the editor of the folio, 1664, corrected by reading—to cancel off your days. The substitution of off for of is unnecessary; for cancel may have been used as a substantive. “We might proceed to the cancellation or destruction of your life.” Shakspeare uses the participle cancell'd in the sense required here, in his Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “An expir'd date, cancell'd ere well begun.” The following lines in King Richard III. likewise confirm the reading that has been chosen: “Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, “That I may live to say, the dog is dead.” Malone. To omit the article was formerly a practice not uncommon. So, in Titus Andronicus: “Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon,” i. e. the Pantheon. Steevens. Again, in King Lear: “Hot questrists after him, met him at gate.” Malone.

Note return to page 63 7Forty days longer we do respite you;] In The Gesta Romanorum, Confessio Amantis, and The History of King Appolyn, thirty days only are allowed for the solution of this question. It is difficult to account for this minute variation, but by supposing that our author copied some translation of the Gesta Romanorum hitherto undiscovered. Malone. It is thirty days in Twine's translation. Forty, as I have observed in a note on some other play (I forget which) was the familiar term when the number to be mentioned was not of arithmetical importance. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's note may be found in vol. ix. p. 421. Boswell.

Note return to page 64 8&lblank; your entertain shall be, As doth befit our honour, and your worth.] I have no doubt but that these two lines were intended to rhyme together in our author's copy, where originally they might have stood thus: “&lblank; your entertain shall be, “As doth befit our honour, your degree.” Or,— “As doth our honour fit and your degree.” So, in King Richard III. Act III. Sc. VII.: “Best fitteth my degree, and your condition.” Steevens.

Note return to page 65 9Where now you're both a father and a son.] Where, in this place, has the power of whereas. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And where I thought the remnant of mine age “Should have been cherish'd by her childlike duty, “I am now full resolv'd to take a wife.” Where (and with the same meaning) occurs again in Act II. Sc. III. of this play: “Where now his son's a glow-worm,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 66 1&lblank; for wisdom sees, those men Blush not in actions blacker than the night, Will shun no course to keep them from the light.] All the old copies read—will shew, but shew is evidently a corruption. The word that I have ventured to insert in the text, in its place, was suggested by these lines in a subsequent scene, which appear to me strongly to support this emendation: “And what may make him blush in being known, “He'll stop the course by which it might be known.” We might read 'schew for eschew, if there were any instance of such an abbreviation being used. The expression is here, as in many places in this play, elliptical: ‘for wisdom sees, that those who do not blush to commit actions blacker than the night, will not shun any course in order to preserve them from being made publick.’ Malone.

Note return to page 67 2&lblank; to keep you clear,] To prevent any suspicion from falling on you. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; always thought, that I “Require a clearness.” Malone.

Note return to page 68 3He hath found the meaning,] So, in Twine's book: “Apollonius prince of Tyre hath found out the solution of my question; wherefore take shipping,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 69 4&lblank; Thaliard.] This name is somewhat corrupted from Thaliarch, i. e. Thaliarchus, as it stands in Twine's translation. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 5Thaliard, you're of our chamber, &c.] So, in Twine's translation: “Thaliarchus, the only faithfull and trustie minister of my secrets,” &c. The rest of the scene is formed on the same original. Steevens.

Note return to page 71 6Partakes her private actions &lblank;] Our author in the Winter's Tale uses the word partake in an active sense, for participate: “&lblank; your exultation “Partake to every one.” Malone.

Note return to page 72 7&lblank; Say, is it done?] We might point differently: “It fits thee not to ask the reason why: “Because we bid it, say is it done?” Malone.

Note return to page 73 8Lest your breath, &c.] Old copy: “Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.” This passage is little better than nonsense, as it stands, and evidently requires amendment.—The words are addressed, not to the Messenger, but to Thaliard, who has told the King that he may consider Pericles as already dead; to which the King replies— “Enough; “Lest your breath cool yourself, telling you haste.” That is, ‘Say no more of it, lest your breath, in describing your alacrity, should cool your ardour.’ The words let and lest might easily have been confounded. M. Mason. The words are evidently addressed to the Messenger, and are much in the style of many other passages in Shakspeare, where those who come to report intelligence are generally represented as entering hastily. Malone.

Note return to page 74 9&lblank; and, as &lblank;] Thus the folio. The quarto reads—and like an arrow. Malone.

Note return to page 75 1My heart can lend no succour to my head.] So, the King in Hamlet: “&lblank; till I know 'tis done, “How ere my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.” Malone.

Note return to page 76 2&lblank; Why should this charge of thoughts?] The quarto 1609 reads—ch&abar;ge. The emendation was suggested by Mr. Steevens. The folio 1664, for ch&abar;ge substituted change. Change is substituted for charge in As You Like It, 1623, Act I. Sc. III. and in Coriolanus, Act V. Sc. III.: Thought was formerly used in the sense of melancholy. Malone. In what respect are the thoughts of Pericles changed? I would read, “&lblank; charge of thoughts,” i. e. weight of them, burthen, pressure of thought. So afterwards in this play: “Patience, good sir, even for this charge.” The first copy reads ch&abar;ge. Although—thought, in the singular number, often means melancholy, in the plural, I believe, it is never employed with that signification. Steevens. Change of thoughts, it seems, was the old reading, which I think preferable to the amendment. By change of thoughts, Pericles means, that change in the disposition of his mind—that unusual propensity to melancholy and cares, which he afterwards describes, and which made his body pine, and his soul to languish. There appears, however, to be an error in the passage; we should leave out the word should, which injures both the sense and the metre, and read: “Let none disturb us: why this change of thoughts?” M. Mason.

Note return to page 77 3The sad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy,] So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue “But moody and dull Melancholy, “Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair?” Malone. “&lblank; dull-ey'd melancholy.” The same compound epithet occurs in The Merchant of Venice: “I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool.” Steevens.

Note return to page 78 4&lblank; but fear what might be done,] But fear of what might happen. Malone.

Note return to page 79 5&lblank; and cares it be not done.] And makes provision that it may not be done. Malone.

Note return to page 80 6Since he's's so great,] Perhaps we should read: “Since he, so great,” &c. otherwise the latter part of the line will be elliptical. Steevens.

Note return to page 81 7&lblank; to say, I honour him,] Him was supplied by Mr. Rowe for the sake of the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 82 8And with the ostent, &c.] Old copies— “And with the stent of war will look so huge.” Steevens. Should not this be: “And with th' ostent of war,” &c.? Tyrwhitt. The emendation made by Mr. Tyrwhitt is confirmed by a passage in The Merchant of Venice: “Like one well studied in a sad ostent, “To please his grandam.” Again, in King Richard II.: “With ostentation of despised arms.” Malone. Again, and more appositely, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Batrachomuomachia: “Both heralds bearing the ostents of war.” Again, in Decker's Entertainment of James I. 1604: “And why you bear, alone, th' ostent of warre.” Steevens.

Note return to page 83 9Which care of them, &c.] Old copy— “Which care of them, not pity of myself, “(Who once no more but as the tops of trees, “Which fence the roots they grow by, and defend them,) “Makes,” &c. I would read—Who am no more, &c. Farmer. Pericles means to compare the head of a kingdom to the upper branches of a tree. As it is the office of the latter to screen the roots they grow by, so it is the duty of the former to protect his subjects, who are no less the supporters of his dignity. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Thus yields the cedar, &c.— “Whose top branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree, “And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.” Steevens. “Once more” must have been a corruption. I formerly thought the poet might have written—“Who owe no more,” but am now persuaded that he wrote, however ungrammatically,—Who wants no more, i. e. which self wants no more; has no other wish or desire, but to protect its subjects. The transcriber's ear, I suppose, deceived him in this as in various other instances. It should be remembered that self was formerly used as a substantive, and it is so used at this day by persons of an inferior rank, who frequently say—his self. Hence, I suppose, the author wrote wants rather than want. Malone.

Note return to page 84 1To which that breath, &c.] i. e. the breath of flattery. The old copy reads—that spark; the word (as Mr. Steevens has observed,) being accidentally repeated by the compositor. He would read—that wind. Malone. This passage seems to be corrupt, as it stands, and the sense requires that we should read: “To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.” Steevens agrees with me in the necessity of some amendment, but proposes to read wind, which I think not so proper a word as blast. M. Mason.

Note return to page 85 2When signior Sooth &lblank;] A near kinsman of this gentleman is mentioned in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; and his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by sir Smile, his neighbour.” Malone.

Note return to page 86 3How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence They have their nourishment?] Thus the quarto 1609, Mr. Rowe, &c. read: “How dare the planets look up unto heaven “From whence they have their nourishment?” It would puzzle a philosopher to ascertain the quality of planetary nourishment, or to discover how planets, which are already in heaven, can be said to look up to it. Steevens.

Note return to page 87 4That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid!] Heaven forbid, that kings should stop their ears, and so prevent them from hearing their secret faults!—To let formerly signified to hinder. So, in Hamlet: “By heaven I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.” Again, in Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “Nor base suspect of aught to let his suit.” Malone. I am not clear, but that let is here used in its ordinary sense: “Forbid it, heaven, (says Pericles,) that kings should suffer their ears to hear their failings palliated!” Holt White.

Note return to page 88 6From whence an issue I might propagate, Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects.] From whence I might propagate an issue that are arms, &c. Malone. I once imagined that a line was wanting to complete the sense of this passage, and that the deficiency might be supplied as follows: “&lblank; a glorious beauty, “From whence an issue I might propagate; “For royal progeny are general blessings, “Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joy. “Her face,” &c. Influenced, however, by the subsequent remark of Mr. M. Mason, I have recovered the sense for which he contends, by omitting one word in the corrupted line, and transposing others. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys.” Boswell. The meaning of this passage is clearly this: “From whence I might propagate such issue, as bring additional strength to princes, and joy to their subjects.” The expression is certainly faulty; but it seems to be the fault of the author, not the printer. I believe it was written as it stands. M. Mason.

Note return to page 89 7Seem'd not to strike, but smooth:] To smooth formerly signified to flatter. See note on “&lblank; smooth every passion,” in King Lear, vol. x. p. 93, n. 7. Malone. To smooth in this place means to stroke. In the same sense we should understand the word in Milton's Comus, v. 251: “&lblank; smoothing the raven down “Of darkness, till it smil'd.” They say in some counties smooth—instead of stroke, the cat. Holt White.

Note return to page 90 8&lblank; than their years:] Old copy—the years. Their suspicions outgrow their years; a circumstance sufficiently natural to veteran tyrants. The correction is mine. Steevens.

Note return to page 91 9And should he doubt it, (as no doubt he doth,)] The quarto 1609 reads: “And should he doo't, as no doubt he doth &lblank;.” from which the reading of the text has been formed. The repetition is much in our author's manner, and the following words, to lop that doubt, render this emendation almost certain. Malone. Here is an apparent corruption. I should not hesitate to read —doubt on't—or,—doubt it. To doubt is to remain in suspense or uncertainty.—Should he be in doubt that I shall keep this secret, (as there is no doubt but he is,) why, to “lop that doubt,” i. e. to get rid of that painful uncertainty, he will strive to make me appear the aggressor, by attacking me first as the author of some supposed injury to himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 92 1&lblank; who spares not innocence:] Thus the eldest quarto. All the other copies read corruptly: “&lblank; who fears not innocence.” Malone.

Note return to page 93 3I thought it princely charity to grieve them.] That is, to lament their fate. The eldest part quarto reads—to grieve for them.— But a rhyme seems to have been intended. The reading of the text was furnished by the third quarto 1630, which, however, is of no authority. Malone.

Note return to page 94 4&lblank; whose wisdom's strength can bear it.] Pericles transferring his authority to Helicanus during his absence, naturally brings the first scene of Measure for Measure to our mind. Malone.

Note return to page 95 5&lblank; will sure crack both:] Thus the folio. The word sure is not found in the quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 96 6But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe,] The first quarto reads—will live. For the emendation I am answerable. The quarto of 1619 has—we live. The first copy may have been right, if, as I suspect, the preceding line has been lost. Malone. “But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe,” &lblank; in seipso totus teres atque rotundus. Horace. In our orbs means, in our different spheres. Steevens.

Note return to page 97 7&lblank; this truth shall ne'er convince,] Overcome. See vol. xi. p. 85, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 98 8Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.] Shine is by our ancient writers frequently used as a substantive. So, in Chloris, or The Complaint of the passionate despised Shepheard, by W. Smith, 1596: “Thou glorious sunne, from whence my lesser light “The substance of his chrystal shine doth borrow.” This sentiment is not much unlike that of Falstaff: “I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.” Malone. That the word shine may be used as a substantive, cannot be doubted whilst we have sunshine and moonshine. If the present reading of this passage be adopted, the word shine must necessarily be taken in that sense: but what the shine of a subject is, it would be difficult to define. The difficulty is avoided by leaving out a letter, and reading— “Thou showd'st a subject shine, I a true prince.” In this case the word shine becomes a verb, and the meaning will be:—“No time shall be able to disprove this truth, that you have shown a subject in a glorious light, and a true prince.” M. Mason. The same idea is more clearly expressed in King Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. II.: “A loyal and obedient subject is “Therein illustrated.” I can neither controvert nor support Mr. M. Mason's position, because I cannot ascertain, if shine be considered as a verb, how the meaning he contends for is deduced from the words before us. Steevens.

Note return to page 99 9&lblank; I perceive he was a wise fellow, &c.] Who this wise fellow was, may be known from the following passage in Barnabie Riche's Souldier's Wishe to Briton's Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill, 1604, p. 27: “I will therefore commende the poet Philipides, who being demaunded by King Lisimachus, what favour he might doe unto him for that he loved him, made this answere to the King, that your majesty would never impart unto me any of your secrets.” Steevens.

Note return to page 100 1So puts himself unto the shipman's toil,] Thus, in King Henry VIII.: “Hath into monstrous habits put the graces “That once were his.” Again, in Chapman's version of the fifth Odyssey: “&lblank; since his father's fame “He puts in pursuite,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 101 2&lblank; although I would;] So, Autolycus, in The Winter's Tale: “If I had a mind to be honest, I see, Fortune would not suffer me; she drops bounties into my mouth.” Malone.

Note return to page 102 3But since he's gone, the king it sure must please, He 'scap'd the land, to perish on the seas.] Old copy— “But since he's gone, the king's seas must please: “He 'scap'd the land, to perish at the sea.” Steevens. “&lblank; the king's seas must please:” i. e. must do their pleasure; must treat him as they will. A rhyme was perhaps intended. We might read in the next line: “He 'scap'd the land, to perish on the seas.” So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “I will bring you gain, or perish on the seas.” Malone. Perhaps we should read: “But since he's gone, the king it sure must please, “He 'scap'd the land, to perish on the seas.” Percy.

Note return to page 103 4We have no reason to desire it,] Thus all the old copies. Perhaps a word is wanting. We might read: “We have no reason to desire it told &lblank;.” Your message being addressed to our master, and not to us, there is no reason why we should desire you to divulge it. If, however, desire be considered as a trisyllable, the metre, though, perhaps, not the sense, will be supplied. Malone. I have supplied the adverb—since, both for the sake of sense and metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 104 5Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, &lblank; As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.] Thus also Agamemnon addresses Æneas in Troilus and Cressida: “Yourself shall feast with us, before you go, “And find the welcome of a noble foe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 105 6Here they're but felt, unseen with mischief's eyes,] The quarto 1609 reads—and seen. The words and seen, and that which I have inserted in my text, are so near in sound, that they might easily have been confounded by a hasty pronunciation, or an inattentive transcriber. By mischief's eyes, I understand, ‘the eyes of those who would feel a malignant pleasure in our misfortunes, and add to them by their triumph over us.’ The eye has been long described by poets as either propitious, or malignant and unlucky. Thus in a subsequent scene in this play: “Now the good gods throw their best eyes upon it!” Malone. I suspect this line, like many others before us, to be corrupt, and therefore read—mistful instead of mischiefs. So, in King Henry V. Act IV. Sc. VI.: “For, hearing this, I must perforce compound “With mistful eyes, or they [tears] will issue too.” The sense of the passage will then be,—‘Withdrawn, as we now are, from the scene we describe, our sorrows are simply felt, and appear indistinct, as through a mist. When we attempt to reduce our griefs by artful comparison, that effort is made to our disadvantage, and our calamities encrease, like trees, that shoot the higher, because they have felt the discipline of the pruning knife.’ Shakspeare has an expression similar to the foregoing: “I see before me, neither here nor there, “Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them “Which I cannot pierce through.” Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. I. I may, however, have only exchanged one sort of nonsense for another; as the following comparison in Mr. Pope's Essay on Criticism, v. 392, seems to suggest a different meaning to the observation of Dionyza: “As things seem large which we through mists descry;” thus sorrow is always apt to magnify its object. Steevens.

Note return to page 106 7Our tongues and sorrows too &lblank;] The original copy has— to, here and in the next line; which cannot be right. To was often written by our old writers for too; and in like manner too and two were confounded. The quarto of 1619 reads do in the first line. I think Cleon means to say—‘Let our tongues and sorrows too sound deep,’ &c. Malone. Mr. Steevens, I think with more probability, reads with the quarto of 1619—“our tongues and sorrows do.” Boswell.

Note return to page 107 8&lblank; till lungs &lblank;] The old copy has—tongues. The correction was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 108 9They may awake their helps to comfort them.] Old copy— helpers. Steevens. Perhaps we should read—helps. So before: “&lblank; be my helps, “To compass such a boundless happiness!” Malone. I have adopted Mr. Malone's very natural conjecture. Steevens.

Note return to page 109 1For riches, strew'd herself even in the streets;] For, in the present instance, I believe, means—‘with respect to, with regard to riches.’ Thus, in Coriolanus: “Rather our state's defective for requital, “Than we to stretch it out.” “Strew'd herself,” referring to city, is undoubtedly the true reading. Thus, in Timon of Athens: “Thou'lt give away thyself in paper shortly.” Steevens. Shakspeare generally uses riches as a singular noun. Thus, in Othello: “The riches of the ship is come ashore.” Again, ibid.: “But riches fineless is as poor as winter &lblank;.” Again, in his 87th Sonnet: “And for that riches where is my deserving?” Malone. I should propose to read richness, instead of riches, which renders the passage not only correct, but much more poetical. Malone must also prove that he uses riches to express a person, or it will not agree with the word herself, or answer in this place. This last line should be in a parenthesis. M. Mason.

Note return to page 110 2&lblank; bore heads so high, they kiss'd the clouds,] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; like the herald Mercury, “New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “Threat'ning cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy.” Again, more appositely, in Troilus and Cressida: “Yon towers whose wanton tops do buss the clouds.” Malone.

Note return to page 111 3&lblank; so jetted and adorn'd,] To jet is to strut, to walk proudly. So, in Twelfth-Night: “Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!” Steevens.

Note return to page 112 4Like one another's glass to trim them by:] The same idea is found in Hamlet: Ophelia, speaking of the prince, says he was— “The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, “The observ'd of all observers.” Again, in Cymbeline: “A sample to the youngest, to the more mature “A glass that feated them.” Again, in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; He was indeed the glass, “Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.” Malone.

Note return to page 113 5Those palates, &c.] The passage is so corrupt in the old copy, that it is difficult even to form a probable conjecture upon it. It reads—“who not yet two savers younger.” The words which I have inserted in my text, afford sense, and are not very remote from the traces of the original letters; and savour and hunger might easily have been transposed. We have in a subsequent scene: “All viands that I eat, do seem unsavoury.” I do not, however, propose this emendation with the smallest confidence; but it may remain till some less exceptionable conjecture shall be offered. Malone. The old reading is evidently erroneous; but the change of a single word, the reading of summers, instead of savers, gives us what certainly the author wrote: “Those palates who not yet two summers younger,” &c. That is, ‘Those palates, who, less than two years ago, required some new inventions of cookery to delight their taste, would now be glad of plain bread.’ M. Mason. I have inserted Mr. M. Mason's emendation in the text. In Romeo and Juliet our author also computes time by the same number of summers: “Let two more summers wither in their pride,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 114 6&lblank; to nousle up their babes,] I would read—nursle. A fondling is still called a nursling. To nouzle, or, as it is now written, nuzzle, is to go with the nose down like a hog. So, Pope: “The blessed benefit, not there confin'd, “Drops to a third, who nuzzles close behind.” Steevens. In an ancient poem entitled The Strange Birth, Honourable Coronation, and most Unhappie Death of Famous Arthur, King of Brytaine, 1601, I find the word nuzzle used nearly in the same manner as in the text: “The first fair sportive night that you shall have, “Lying safely nuzled by faire Igrene's side.” Again, more appositely, ibidem: “Being nuzzled in effeminate delights &lblank;.” I have therefore retained the reading of the old copy. Malone.

Note return to page 115 7O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup &lblank;] A kindred thought is found in King Lear: “&lblank; Take physick, pomp! “Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, “That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, “And show the heavens more just.” Again, ibidem: “Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,” &c. Malone

Note return to page 116 8&lblank; thy sorrows &lblank;] Perhaps—the sorrows. Steevens.

Note return to page 117 9One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir, That may succeed as his inheritor;] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; sorrows never come as single spies, “But in battalions.” Steevens. Again, ibidem: “One woe doth tread upon another's heels, “So fast they follow.” Malone.

Note return to page 118 1Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,] The quarto 1609 reads—That stuff'd, &c. The context clearly shows that we ought to read Hath instead of That.—By power is meant forces. The word is frequently used in that sense by our ancient writers. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; from France there comes a power “Into this scatter'd kingdom.” Malone. I read: “Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels,” &c. Hollow, applied to ships, is a Homeric epithet. See Iliad I. v. 26. Steevens.

Note return to page 119 2And make a conquest of unhappy me,] I believe a letter was dropped at the press, and would read: “&lblank; of unhappy men,” &c. Malone. Perhaps the m is only a w reversed, and the author designed us to read, however improperly and ungrammatically—of unhappy we. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; and to poor we, “Thine enmity's most capital.” Steevens.

Note return to page 120 3Whereas no glory's &lblank;] Whereas, it has been already observed, was anciently used for where. Malone.

Note return to page 121 4That's the least fear; for, by the semblance &lblank;] It should be remembered, that semblance was pronounced as a trisyllable— semble-ance. So, our author in The Comedy of Errors: “And these two Dromios, one in semblance.” So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, resembleth is a quadrisyllable: “O how this spring of love resembleth &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 122 5Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat,] The quarto, 1609, reads—“like himnes untutor'd to repeat.” I suppose the author wrote—him is—an expression which, however elliptical, is not more so than many others in this play. Malone. Perhaps we should read—him who is, and regulate the metre as follows: “Thou speak'st “Like him who is untutor'd to repeat,” &c. The sense is—“Deluded by the pacifick appearance of this navy, you talk like one, who has never learned the common adage,—that the fairest outsides are most to be suspected.” Steevens. “Like him untutor'd,” for “like him who is untutor'd,” is not a very harsh ellipsis. Him's, is, I suspect, an unexampled contraction. Boswell.

Note return to page 123 6&lblank; what need we fear? &c.] The earliest copy reads and points thus: “What need we leave our grounds the lowest?” The reading which is inserted in the text, is that of the second quarto, printed in 1619. Malone. “But bring they what they will, and what they can, “What need we fear? “The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there.” The redundancy of the metre leads me to suspect this passage of interpolation. I therefore read: “But bring they what they will, what need we fear? “The ground's the low'st, and we are half way there.” Are the words omitted—and what they can—of any value? Steevens.

Note return to page 124 7&lblank; if he on peace consist;] If he stands on peace. A Latin sense. Malone.

Note return to page 125 8And these our ships you happily may think Are, like the Trojan horse, war-stuff'd within, With bloody views, expecting overthrow,] i. e. which you happily, &c. The old copy reads: “And these our ships you happily may think, “Are like the Trojan horse, was stuff'd within “With bloody veines,” &c. For the emendation of this corrupted passage the reader is indebted to Mr. Steevens. So, as he has observed, in a former scene: “Hath stuff'd the hollow vessels with their power.” Malone. Why should not this mean elliptically—“which was stuffed?” So, before: “Are arms for princes,” &c. Instead of—that are. See also afterwards, p. 58. And—“that in Tharsus was not best,” for—it was not best. Boswell.

Note return to page 126 9&lblank; to make your needy bread,] i. e. to make bread for your needy subjects. Percy.

Note return to page 127 1Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,] I suspect the author wrote: “Or pay you with unthankfulness in aught, “Be it our wives,” &c. If we are unthankful to you in any one instance, or refuse, should there be occasion, to sacrifice any thing for your service, whether our wives, our children, or ourselves, may the curse of heaven, and of mankind, &c.—Aught was anciently written ought. Our wives, &c. may however refer to any in the former line; I have therefore made no change. Malone. I believe the old reading is the true one. “Ingratitude in thought” is ‘mental ingratitude.’ The governor imprecates vengeance on himself and his people, should any of them harbour even an ungrateful thought in their bosoms respecting Pericles. Steevens. No amendment is wanting; the meaning is this:—“May these persons be cursed who shall pay you with unthankfulness, even in thought, though they should be our dearest friends, or even ourselves.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 128 2A better prince, and benign lord, Prove awful, &c.] i. e. you have seen a better prince, &c. prove awful, &c. The verb in the first line is carried on to the third. Old copy: “That will prove awful both in deed and word.” I have omitted the two first words, as the sense proceeds without them, and they render the metre irregular. Steevens.

Note return to page 129 3I'll show you those, &c.] I will now exhibit to you persons, who, after suffering small and temporary evils, will at length be blessed with happiness.—I suspect our author had here in view the title of the chapter in Gesta Romanorum, in which the story of Apollonius is told; though I will not say in what language he read it. It is this: “De tribulatione temporali quæ in gaudium sempiternum postremo commutabitur.” Malone.

Note return to page 130 4The good in conversation &lblank;] Conversation is conduct, behaviour. So, in the Second Epistle of St. Peter, iii. 11: “&lblank; to be in all holy conversation and godliness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 131 5The good in conversation (To whom I give my benizon,) Is still at Tharsus, where &lblank;] This passage is confusedly expressed. Gower means to say—The good prince (on whom I bestow my best wishes) is still engaged at Tharsus, where every man,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 132 6Thinks all is writ he spoken can:] Pays as much respect to whatever Pericles says, as if it were holy writ. “As true as the gospel,” is still common language. Malone. Writ may certainly mean scripture; the holy writings, by way of eminence, being so denominated. We might, however, read— wit, i. e. wisdom. So, Gower, in this story of Prince Appolyn: “Though that thou be of littel witte.” Steevens.

Note return to page 133 7Gild his statue to make it glorious:] This circumstance, as well as the foregoing, is found in the Confessio Amantis: “Appolinus, whan that he herde “The mischefe, howe the citee ferde, “All freliche of his owne gifte “His wheate among hem for to shifte, “The whiche by ship he had brought, “He yave, and toke of hem right nought. “But sithen fyrst this worlde began, “Was never yet to suche a man “More joye made than thei hym made; “For thei were all of hym so glade, “That thei for ever in remembrance “Made a figure in resemblance “Of hym, and in a common place “Thei set it up; so that his face “Might every maner man beholde, “So as the citee was beholde: “It was of laton over-gylte; “Thus hath he nought his yefte spilte.” All the copies read—Build his statue, &c. Malone. They also unnecessarily read: “Build his statue to make it glorious.” Read—gild. So, in Gower: “It was of laton over-gylte.” Again, in Kyng Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “&lblank; in remembraunce they made an ymage or statue of clene gold,” &c. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “Gild his statue glorious.” Boswell.

Note return to page 134 8&lblank; forth, &c.] Old copy—for though he strive &lblank;. I read forth; i. e. thoroughly, from beginning to end. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; you, cousin, “Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, “Do with your injuries as seems you best.” Steevens.

Note return to page 135 9Good Helicane hath staid at home, &lblank; And, to fulfil his prince' desire, Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:] The old copy reads: “Good Helicane that staid at home, &lblank; “Sav'd one of all,” &c. The emendation was suggested by Mr. Steevens. Malone. The old copy seems to me to be clearer—“Good Helicane, &c. sends word of all.” The lines between the first and sixth I read in a parenthesis. Boswell.

Note return to page 136 1And hid intent, to murder him;] The first quarto reads: “And hid in Tent to murder him.” This is only mentioned to show how inaccurately this play was originally printed, and to justify the liberty that has been taken in correcting the preceding passage. The reading of the text is that of the quarto 1619. Malone. “How Thaliard came full bent with sin, “And hid intent to murder him.” Sin and him cannot be received as rhymes. Perhaps the author wrote, “&lblank; full bent with scheme, “And hid intent,” &c. The old reading, in the second line, is certainly the true one. Hid intent is concealed design, such as was that of Thaliard. Steevens.

Note return to page 137 2&lblank; was not best &lblank;] The construction is, And that for him to make his rest longer in Tharsus, was not best; i. e. his best course. Malone.

Note return to page 138 3He knowing so,] i. e. says Mr. Steevens, by whom this emendation was made, “he being thus informed.” The old copy has—“He doing so.” Malone.

Note return to page 139 4&lblank; that the ship Should house him safe, is wreck'd and split;] Ship and split are such defective rhymes, that I suppose our author wrote fleet. Pericles, in the storm, lost his fleet as well as the vessel in which he was himself embarked. Steevens.

Note return to page 140 5Ne aught escapen but himself;] [Old copy—escapen'd—] It should be printed either escapen or escaped. Our ancestors had a plural number in their tenses which is now lost out of the language; e. g. in the present tense, I escape Thou escapest He escapeth We escapen Ye escapen They escapen. But it did not, I believe, extend to the preter-imperfects, otherwise than thus: They didden [for did] escape. Percy.

Note return to page 141 6&lblank; to give him glad:] Dr. Percy asks if we should not read—to make him glad. Perhaps we should: but the language of our fictitious Gower, like that of our Pseudo-Rowley, is so often irreconcileable to the practice of any age, that criticism on such bungling imitations is almost thrown away. Steevens.

Note return to page 142 7&lblank; what shall be next, Pardon old Gower; this long's the text.] The meaning of this may be—“Excuse old Gower from telling you what follows. The very text to it has proved of too considerable length already.” Steevens.

Note return to page 143 8&lblank; and left me breath Nothing to think on, &c.] The quarto 1609, reads—and left my breath. I read—and left me breath, that is, left me life, only to aggravate my misfortunes, by enabling me to think on the death that awaits me. Malone. Mr. Malone's correction is certainly proper; and the passage before us can have no other meaning, than—left me alive only that ensuing death might become the object of my contemplation. So, in the second book of Sidney's Arcadia, where the shipwreck of Pyrocles is described: “&lblank; left nothing but despair of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end.” Again, in Chapman's version of the fifth book of Homer's Odyssey, where the shipwrecked Ulysses is described: “&lblank; Two nights yet and days “He spent in wrestling with the sable seas: “In which space often did his heart propose “Death to his eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 144 9Enter three Fishermen.] This scene seems to have been formed on the following lines in the Confessio Amantis: “Thus was the yonge lorde all alone, “All naked in a poure plite.— “There came a fisher in the weye, “And sigh a man there naked stonde, “And when that he hath understonde “The cause, he hath of hym great routh; “And onely of his poure trouth “Of such clothes as he hadde “With great pitee this lorde he cladde: “And he hym thonketh as he sholde, “And sayth hym that it shall be yolde “If ever he gete his state ageyne; “And praith that he would hym syne, “If nigh were any towne for hym.   “He sayd, ye Pentapolim, “Where both kynge and quene dwellen. “Whan he this tale herde tellen, “He gladdeth him, and gan beseche, “That he the weye hym wolde teche &lblank;.” Shakspeare delighting to describe the manners of such people, has introduced three fishermen instead of one, and extended the dialogue to a considerable length. Malone.

Note return to page 145 1What, ho, pilche!] All the old copies read—What to pelche. The latter emendation was made by Mr. Tyrwhitt. For the other I am responsible. Pilche, as he has observed, is a leathern coat. The context confirms this correction. The first fisherman appears to be the master, and speaks with authority, and some degree of contempt, to the third fisherman, who is a servant.—His next speech, “What, Patch-breech, I say!” is in the same style. The second fisherman seems to be a servant likewise; and, after the master has called—What, ho Pilche!— (for so I read,)—explains what it is he wants:—“Ho, come and bring away the nets.” Malone. In Twine's translation we have the following passage:—“He was a rough fisherman, with an hoode upon his head, and a filthie leatherne pelt upon his backe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 146 2&lblank; with a wannion.] A phrase of which the meaning is obvious, though I cannot explain the word at the end of it. It is common in many of our old plays. Steevens. I would without much confidence offer a conjecture as to this word, since no other has been suggested. May not wannion be a corruption of winnowing? Vanneure, in Cotgrave, is explained “a winnowing, also a chiding, bayting, schooling.” Boswell.

Note return to page 147 3Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart, &c.] So, in The Winter's Tale: “O the most piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see'em, and not to see'em;—now the ship boring the moon with her main mast and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land-service.—To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help.” Malone.

Note return to page 148 4&lblank; when I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled?] The rising of porpuses near a vessel at sea, has long been considered by the superstition of sailors, as the fore-runner of a storm. So, in The Duchess of Malfy, by Webster, 1623: “He lifts up his nose like a foul porpus before a storm.” Malone. Malone considers this prognostick as arising merely from the superstition of the sailors: but Captain Cook, in his second voyage to the South Seas, mentions the playing of porpusses round the ship as a certain sign of a violent gale of wind. M. Mason.

Note return to page 149 5&lblank; a-land;] This word occurs several times in Twine's translation, as well as in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. Steevens.

Note return to page 150 6&lblank; as to a whale; 'a plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him,] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; like scaled sculls “Before the belching whale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 151 7I would have been that day in the belfry.] That is, I should wish to have been that day in the belfry. M. Mason. He does not express a wish, but says he would actually have been there. Boswell.

Note return to page 152 8&lblank; the finny subject of the sea &lblank;] Old copies—fenny. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. Malone. This thought is not much unlike another in As You Like It: “&lblank; this our life, exempt from publick haunt, “Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, “Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 153 9Honest! good fellow, what's that? if it be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, and no body will look after it.] The old copy reads—if it be a day fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody look after it. Part of the emendation suggested by Mr. Steevens, is confirmed by a passage in The Coxcomb, by Beaumont and Fletcher, quoted by Mr. Mason: “I fear shrewdly, I should do something “That would quite scratch me out of the calendar.” Malone. The preceding speech of Pericles affords no apt introduction to the reply of the fisherman. Either somewhat is omitted that cannot now be supplied, or the whole passage is obscured by more than common depravation. It should seem that the prince had made some remark on the badness of the day. Perhaps the dialogue originally ran thus: “Per. Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen; “The day is rough and thwarts your occupation.” “2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be not a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, and nobody will look after it.” The following speech of Pericles is equally abrupt and inconsistent: “May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.” The folio reads: “Y' may see the sea hath cast me upon your coast.” I would rather suppose the poet wrote: “Nay, see the sea hath cast upon your coast &lblank;.” Here the fisherman interposes. The prince then goes on: “A man,” &c. Steevens. May not here be an allusion to the dies honestissimus of Cicero? —“If you like the day, find it out in the almanack, and nobody will take it from you.” Farmer. The allusion is to the lucky and unlucky days which are put down in some of the old calendars. Douce. Some difficulty, however, will remain, unless we suppose a preceding line to have been lost; for Pericles (as the text stands) has said nothing about the day. I suspect that in the lost line he wished the men a good day. Malone.

Note return to page 154 1&lblank; to cast thee in our way!] He is playing on the word cast, which anciently was used both in the sense of to throw, and to vomit. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; yet I made a shift to cast him.” It is used in the latter sense above: “&lblank; till he cast bells, &c. up again.” Malone.

Note return to page 155 2&lblank; hath made the ball For them to play upon,] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book v.: “In such a shadow, &c. mankind lives, that neither they know how to foresee, nor what to feare, and are, like tenis bals, tossed by the racket of the higher powers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 156 3A man throng'd up with cold:] I suspect that throng'd, which is the reading of all the copies, is corrupt. We might read: “A man shrunk up with cold;” (It might have been anciently written shronk.) So, in Cymbeline: “The shrinking slaves of winter &lblank;.” Malone. The expression—shrunk up, is authorised by Pope in his version of the 16th Iliad, 488: “Shrunk up he sat, with wild and haggard eye, “Nor stood to combat, nor had force to fly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 157 4For I am a man,] Old copy—for that I am. I omit that, which is equally unnecessary to sense and metre. So, in Othello: “Haply for I am black.” For is because. Steevens.

Note return to page 158 5&lblank; I have a gown here, &c.] In the prose history of Kynge Appolyn of Thyre, already quoted, the fisherman also gives him “one halfe of his black mantelle for to cover his body with.” Steevens.

Note return to page 159 6&lblank; afore me, a handsome fellow!] So, in Twine's translation: “When the fisherman beheld the comelinesse and beautie of the yoong gentleman, he was mooved with compassion towardes him, and led him into his house, and feasted him with such fare as he presently had; and the more amplie to expresse his great affection, he disrobed himselfe of his poore and simple cloake,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 160 7&lblank; flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and more-o'er puddings and flap-jacks;] In the old copy this passage is strangely corrupted. It reads—“flesh for all days, fish for fasting days, and more, or puddings and flap-jacks.” Dr. Farmer suggested to me the correction of the latter part of the sentence: for the other emendation I am responsible. Mr. M. Mason would read—“flesh for ale-days:” but this was not, I think, the language of the time; though ales and church-ales was common. Malone. “&lblank; flap-jacks.” In some counties a flap-jack signifies an apple-puff; but anciently it seems to have meant a pancake. But, whatever it was, mention is made of it in Smith's Sea Grammar, 1627: “For when a man is ill, or at the point of death, I would know whether a dish of buttered rice with a little cynamon, ginger, and sugar, a little minced meat, or rost beefe, a few stewed prunes, a race of greene ginger, a flap-jacke, &c. bee not better than a little poore John,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 161 8He is a happy king, &c.] This speech, in the old copies, is printed as follows: I have only transposed a few of the words for the sake of metre: “He is a happy king, since he gains from “His subjects the name of good, by his government.” Steevens.

Note return to page 162 9Did but my fortunes equal my desires, I'd wish to make one there.] The old copy as follows: “Were my fortunes equal to my desires, “I could wish to make one there.” As all the speeches of Pericles, throughout this scene, were designed to be in metre, they cannot be restored to it without such petty liberties as I have taken in the present instance. Steevens. As these speeches cannot be forced into metre without such violent alterations, I have printed them as prose, which, I believe, was the author's intention. Boswell.

Note return to page 163 1&lblank; and what a man cannot get, &c.] This passage, in its present state, is to me unintelligible. We might read:—“O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may not lawfully deal for;—his wife's soul.” ‘Be content; things must be as Providence has appointed;— and what his situation in life does not entitle him to aspire to, he ought not to attempt;—the affections of a woman in a higher sphere than his own.’ Soul is in other places used by our author for love.—Thus, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; we have with special soul “Elected him, our absence to supply.” Malone. ‘Things must be (says the speaker) as they are appointed to be; and what a man is not sure to compass, he has yet a just right to attempt.’—Thus far the passage is clear. The Fisherman may then be supposed to begin a new sentence—‘His wife's soul’—but here he is interrupted by his comrades. He might otherwise have proceeded to say—‘The good will of a wife indeed is one of the things which is difficult of attainment. A husband is in the right to strive for it, but after all his pains may fail to secure it.’—I wish his brother fishermen had called off his attention before he had time to utter his last three words. Steevens. The Fisherman means, I think, to say,—“What a man cannot get, there is no law against giving, to save his wife's soul from purgatory.” Farmer. It is difficult to extract any kind of sense from the passage, as it stands, and I don't see how it can be amended. Perhaps the meaning may be this:—‘And what a man cannot accomplish, he may lawfully endeavour to obtain;’ as for instance, his wife's affection. With respect to Farmer's explanation, I cannot conceive how a man can give what he cannot get: besides, if the words were capable of the meaning he supposes, they would not apply to any thing that had passed, or been said before; and this Fisherman is a shrewd fellow, who is not supposed to speak nonsense. M. Mason.

Note return to page 164 2&lblank; bots on't,] The bots are the worms that breed in horses. This comick execration was formerly used in the room of one less decent. It occurs in King Henry IV. and in many other old plays. Malone. See The Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, in the old song of The Miller of Mansfield, Part II. line 65: “Quoth Dick, a bots on you.” Percy.

Note return to page 165 3&lblank; after all my crosses,] For the insertion of the word my, I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 166 4And, though it was mine own,] i. e. And I thank you, though it was my own. Malone.

Note return to page 167 5&lblank; this brace:] The brace is the armour for the arm. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, “And in my vant-brace put this wither'd brawn.” Avant bras. Fr. Steevens.

Note return to page 168 6The which the gods protect thee from! &c.] The old copies read, unintelligibly: “The which the gods protect thee, fame may defend thee.” I am answerable for the correction.—The licence taken in omitting the pronoun before have, in a subsequent line of this speech, was formerly not uncommon. See note on the following passage in Othello, Act III. Sc. III.: “Give me a living reason she's disloyal.” Malone. Being certain that the metre throughout this play was once regular, I correct the line in question thus: “&lblank; in like necessity, “Which gods protect thee from! it may defend thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 169 7&lblank; though calm'd, they give't again:] Old copies: “&lblank; though calm'd, have given it again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 170 8&lblank; by will.] Old copy—in his will. For the sake of metre I read—by will. So, in As You Like It: “By will but a poor thousand crowns.” Steevens.

Note return to page 171 9And if that ever my low fortunes better,] Old copy; “And if that ever my low fortune's better &lblank;.” We should read—“My low fortunes better.” Better is in this place a verb, and fortunes the plural number. M. Mason.

Note return to page 172 1Why, do ye take it,] That is, in plainer terms,—Why, take it. Steevens.

Note return to page 173 2Ay, but hark you, my friend; &c.] Thus, in Twine's translation: “And in the meane time of this one thing onely doe I putte thee in minde, that when thou shalt be restored to thy former dignity, thou do not despise to thinke on the basenesse of the poore piece of garment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 3&lblank; from whence you had it.] For this correction I am answerable. The old copies read—had them. Malone.

Note return to page 175 4Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel;] Old copy only: “By your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel &lblank;.” I either read: “By your forbearance I am cloth'd in steel &lblank;;” i. e. by your forbearance to claim the armour, which being just drawn up in your net, might have been detained as your own property; —or, for the sake of metre also: “Now, by your furtherance,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 176 5And spite of all the rupture of the sea,] We might read (with Dr. Sewel): “&lblank; spite of all the rapture of the sea.” That is—‘notwithstanding that the sea hath ravish'd so much from me.’ So, afterwards: “Who looking for adventures in the world, “Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men.” Again, in The Life and Death of Lord Cromwell, 1602: “Till envious fortune, and the ravenous sea, “Did robe, disrobe, and spoil us of our own.” But the old reading is sufficiently intelligible. Malone. I am not sure but that the old reading is the true one. We still talk of the breaking of the sea, and the breakers. What is the rupture of the sea, but another word for the breaking of it? Rupture means any solution of continuity. It should not, however, be dissembled, that Chapman, in his version of the Iliad, has several times used the substantive, rapture, to express violent seizure, or the act by which any thing is carried forcibly away. So, in the 5th Iliad: “Brake swift-foot Iris to his aid from all the darts that hiss'd “At her quick rapture &lblank;.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; and their friend did from his rapture bear.” Again, in the 22d Iliad: “&lblank; And looke how an eagle from her height “Stoopes to the rapture of a lamb.” Steevens.

Note return to page 177 6This jewel holds his biding on my arm;] The old copy reads—his building. Biding was, I believe, the poet's word. Malone. This conjecture appears to be just. A similar expression occurs in Othello: “&lblank; look, I have a weapon, “A better never did itself sustain “Upon a soldier's thigh.” i. e. hold its biding, or place, there. Any ornament of enchased gold was anciently styled a jewel. So, in Markham's Arcadia, 1607: “She gave him a very fine jewel, wherein was set a most rich diamond.” Steevens.

Note return to page 178 7&lblank; a pair of bases,] Bases appear to have been a kind of loose breeches. Thus, in the first book of Sidney's Arcadia: “About his middle he had, instead of bases, a long cloake of silke,” &c.—Again, in the third book: “His bases (which he ware so long, as they came almost to his ankle,) were embroidered onely with blacke worms, which seemed to crawle up and downe, as readie alreadie to devour him.”—It is clear from these passages, that bases (as if derived from Bas, Fr. a stocking, as I formerly supposed,) cannot mean any kind of defensive covering for the legs. In this concluding observation the late Captain Grose agreed with me; though at the same time he confessed his inability to determine, with any degree of precision, what bases were. Steevens. Johnson tells us, in his Dictionary, that bases are part of any ornament that hangs down as housings, and quotes a passage from Sidney's Arcadia: “Phalantus was all in white, having his bases and caparisons embroidered:”—and to confirm this explanation it may be observed, that the [lower] valances of a bed are still called the bases. In Massinger's Picture, Sophia, speaking of Hilario's disguise, says to Corisca: “&lblank; You, minion, “Had a hand in it too, as it appears, “Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.” M. Mason. Bases, signified the housings of a horse, and may have been used in that sense here. So, in Fairfax's translation of Tasso's Godfrey of Bulloigne: “And with his streaming blood his bases dide.” Malone. It may be remarked, that Richardson in his notes on Paradise Lost, p. 392, has the following explanation:—“Bases, from Bas, (Fr.) they fall low to the ground; they are also called the housing, from Houssè, be-daggled.” Steevens. Bases are thus explained by my friend Mr. Archdeacon Nares: “A kind of embroidered mantle which hung down from the middle, to about the knees or lower, and worn by knights on horseback.” See also Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 125. Boswell.

Note return to page 179 8Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?] In Gower's Poem, and Kynge Appolyn of Thyre, 1510, certain gymnastick exercises only are performed before the Pentapolitan monarch, antecedent to the marriage of Appollinus, the Pericles of this play. The present tournament, however, as well as the dance in the next scene, seems to have been suggested by a passage of the former writer, who, describing the manner in which the wedding of Appollinus was celebrated, says: “The knightes that be yonge and proude, “Thei juste first, and after daunce.” Malone. A triumph, in the language of Shakspeare's time, signified any publick show, such as a Mask, or Revel, &c. Thus, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; hold those justs and triumphs?” Again, in King Henry VI.: “With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows.” Steevens.

Note return to page 180 9Return them, we are ready;] i. e. return them notice, that we are ready, &c. Percy.

Note return to page 181 1It pleaseth you, &c.] Old copy: “It pleaseth you my royal father to express &lblank;.” As this verse was too long by a foot, I have omitted the epithet royal. Steevens.

Note return to page 182 2'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain The labour of each knight, in his device.] The old copy reads—to entertain, which cannot be right. Mr. Steevens suggested the emendation. Malone. The sense would be clearer were we to substitute, both in this and the following instance, office. Honour, however, may mean her situation as queen of the feast, as she is afterwards denominated. The idea of this scene appears to have been caught from the Iliad, book iii. where Helen describes the Grecian leaders to her father-in-law Priam. Steevens.

Note return to page 183 3Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform.] Perhaps we should read—to prefer, i. e. to advance. Percy.

Note return to page 184 4The word, Lux tua vita mihi.] What we now call the motto, was sometimes termed the word or mot by our old writers. Le mot, French. So, in Marston's Satires, 1599: “&lblank; Fabius' perpetual golden coat, “Which might have semper idem for a mot.” These Latin mottos may perhaps be urged as a proof of the learning of Shakspeare, or as an argument to show that he was not the author of this play; but tournaments were so fashionable and frequent an entertainment in the time of Queen Elizabeth, that he might easily have been furnished with these shreds of literature. Malone.

Note return to page 185 5&lblank; Piu per dulçura que per fuerça.] That is, ‘more by sweetness than by force.’ The author should have written Mas per dulçura, &c. Più in Italian signifies more; but, I believe, there is no such Spanish word. Malone.

Note return to page 186 6&lblank; Me pompæ provexit apex.] All the old copies have—Me Pompey, &c. Whether we should amend these words as follows —me pompæ provexit apex,—or correct them thus—me Pompei provexit apex, I confess my ignorance. A wreath of chivalry, in its common sense, might be the desert of many knights on many various occasions; so that its particular claim to honour on the present one is not very clearly ascertained.—If the wreath declares of itself that it was once the ornament of Pompey's helm, perhaps here may be some allusion to those particular marks of distinction which he wore after his bloodless victory over the Cilician pirates: “Et victis cedat piratica laurea Gallis.” Steevens. Steevens is clearly right in reading pompæ, instead of Pompey, and the meaning of the Knight in the choice of his device and motto seems to have been, to declare that he was not incited by love to enter the lists, but by the desire of glory, and the ambition of obtaining the wreath of victory which Thaisa was to bestow upon the conqueror. M. Mason. See these devices fully explained by Mr. Douce, Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 125. Boswell.

Note return to page 187 7What is the fourth?] i. e. What is the fourth device. Malone.

Note return to page 188 8A burning torch, &c.] This device and motto may have been taken from Daniel's translation of Paulus Jovius, in 1585, in which they are found. Signat. H. 7. b. Malone. The same idea occurs again in King Henry VI. Part I.: “Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, “Chok'd,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 189 9He seems, &c.] Old copy: “He seems to be a stranger; but his present “Is a wither'd branch &lblank;.” For reasons frequently given, I have deserted the ancient text. Steevens.

Note return to page 190 1&lblank; the whipstock,] i. e. the carter's whip. See note on Twelfth-Night, vol. xi. p. 387, n. 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 191 2&lblank; let his armour rust Until this day, to scour it in the dust.] The idea of this ill-appointed knight appears to have been adopted from Sidney's Arcadia, book i.: “His armour of as old a fashion, besides the rustie poornesse, &c.—so that all that looked on, measured his length on the earth already,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 192 3The outward habit by the inward man.] i. e. that makes us scan the inward man by the outward habit. This kind of inversion was formerly very common. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; that many may be meant “By the fool multitude.” See the note on that passage in vol. v. p. 68, n. 4. Malone. Why should we not read: “The inward habit by the outward man.” The words were accidentally misplaced. In the prose romance already quoted, the king says: “&lblank; the habyte maketh not the relygious man.” Steevens. In my copy this line is quoted in an old hand as Mr. Steevens reads. Farmer. I don't think any amendment necessary; but the passage should be pointed thus: “Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan “The outward habit by, the inward man.” That is, that makes us scan the inward man, by the outward habit. M. Mason..

Note return to page 193 4[Great shouts, and all cry, The mean knight.] Again, in the first book of Sidney's Arcadia: “The victory being by the judges given, the trumpets witnessed to the ill-apparell'd knight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 194 5To place, &c.] The quarto, 1609, reads—I place, and this corrupt reading was followed in that of 1619, and in the folio, 1664. The emendation is taken from the folio, 1685. Malone.

Note return to page 195 6You are my guests.] Old copy: “You are princes and my guests.” But as all the personages addressed were not princes, and as the measure is overburthened by the admission of these words, I have left them out. The change I have made, likewise affords a natural introduction to the succeeding speech of the Princess. Steevens.

Note return to page 196 7&lblank; than my merit.] Thus the original quarto, 1609. The second quarto has—by merit. Malone.

Note return to page 197 8In framing artists,] Old copy: “In framing an artist.” This judicious emendation is Mr. Malone's. Steevens.

Note return to page 198 9&lblank; Come, queen o' the feast, (For, daughter, so you are,)] So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; present yourself “That which you are, mistress o' the feast.” Steevens.

Note return to page 199 1That neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, Envy the great, nor do the low despise.] This is the reading of the quarto 1619. The first quarto reads— “Have neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, “Envies the great, nor shall the low despise.” Malone.

Note return to page 200 2By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, These cates resist me, she not thought upon.] All the copies read—“he not thought upon”—and these lines are given to Simonides. In the old plays it is observable, that declarations of affection, whether disguised or open, are generally made by both the parties; if the lady utters a tender sentiment, a corresponding sentiment is usually given to her lover.—Hence I conclude, that the author wrote— “&lblank; she not thought upon;” and that these lines belong to Pericles. If he be right, I would read: “&lblank; he now thought upon.” The prince recollecting his present state, and comparing it with that of Simonides, wonders that he can eat. In Gower, where this entertainment is particularly described, it is said of Appollinus, the Pericles of the present play, that— “He sette and cast about his eie “And saw the lordes in estate, “And with hym selfe were in debate “Thynkende what he had lore; “And such a sorowe he toke therefore, “That he sat ever stille and thought, “As he which of no meat rought.” So, in Kyng Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “&lblank; at the last he sate him down at the table, and without etynge, he behelde the noble company of lordes and grete estates.—Thus as he looked all about, a great lord that served at the kynge's table sayde unto the kynge, Certes, syr, this man wolde gladly your honour, for he dooth notete, but beholdeth hertely your noble magnifycence, and is in poynt to weep.” The words resist me, however, do not well correspond with this idea. Perhaps they are corrupt. Malone. “These cates resist me,” i. e. go against my stomach. I would read, however—be not thought upon. It appears from Gower and the prose novel, as well as many of the following circumstances, that the thoughts of Pericles were not yet employed about the Princess. He is only ruminating on his past misfortunes, on his former losses. The lady had found out what ailed her, long before Pericles had made a similar discovery. Steevens. I have no doubt but she is the right reading, that the first of these speeches belongs to Pericles, and that the words “these cates resist me,” are justly explained by Steevens. The intention of the poet is to show that their mutual passion had the same effect on Thaisa and Pericles: but as we are not to suppose that his mistress was ever out of his thoughts, the sense requires that we should read— “These cates resist me, she but thought upon.” Meaning to say, that the slightest thoughts of her took away his appetite for every thing else, which corresponds with what she says in the subsequent speech. There are no two words more frequently mistaken for each other, in the old plays, than not and but. A mistress, when not thought upon, can have no effect with her lover. M. Mason. If this speech belongs to Pericles, he must mean to say, that when he ceases to think of his mistress, his stomach fails him. Is there any thing unnatural in this? As displeasing sensations are known to diminish appetite, so pleasant ideas may be supposed to increase it. Pyrocles, however, the hero of Sidney's Arcadia, book i. finds himself in the contrary situation, while seated at table with his mistress, Philoclea: “&lblank; my eyes drank much more eagerly of her beautie, than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so was my common sense deceived (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke the wine, and withall stole a look on her, mee seemed I tasted her deliciousnesse.” I have not disturbed the speech in question, and yet where would be the impropriety of leaving it in the mouth of Simonides? He is desirous of Pericles for a son-in-law, as Thaisa to possess him as a husband; and if the old gentleman cannot eat for thinking of him, such weakness is but of a piece with what follows, where his Pentapolitan majesty, in a colloquy with the lovers, renders himself as ridiculous as King Arthur in Tom Thumb. Simonides and Thaisa express a sort of family impatience for the attainment of their different purposes. He wonders why his appetite fails him, unless he is thinking on Pericles; she wishes for an exchange of provision; and (as nurses say in fondness to their infants) loves her prince so well that she could eat him. The grossness of the daughter can only be exceeded by the anility of the father. I cannot persuade myself that Shakspeare had any hand in producing the Hurlothrumbic character of Simonides. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 2Had princes sit,] Should not this be set? Yet from the perpetual occurrence of elliptical phraseology in this play, the old copy may be right. So, in p. 90: “You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.” Boswell.

Note return to page 202 3Where now his son's a glow-worm in the night,] The old copies read—“Where now his son,” &c. But this is scarcely intelligible. The slight change that has been made affords an easy sense. Where is, I suppose, here, as in many other places, used for whereas. The peculiar property of the glow-worm, on which the poet has here employed a line, he has in Hamlet happily described by a single word: “The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, “And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.” Malone.

Note return to page 203 4For he's their parent, and he is their grave,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; “What is her burying grave, that is her womb.” Milton has the same thought: “The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.” In the text the second quarto has been followed. The first reads: “He's both their parent and he is their grave.” Malone.

Note return to page 204 7&lblank; that's stor'd unto the brim,] The quarto 1609 reads —that's stur'd unto the brim. Malone. If stirr'd be the true reading, it must mean, as Milton expresses it, that the liquor “&lblank; dances in its chrystal bounds.” But I rather think we should read—stor'd, i. e. replenished. So before in this play: “Their tables were stor'd full.” Again: “Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill.” Again: “&lblank; these our ships “Are stor'd with corn &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 205 8(As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,)] i. e. let the quantity of wine you swallow, be proportioned to the love you bear your mistress: in plainer English—“If you love kissing, drink a bumper.” The construction is—As you love your mistresses' lips, so fill to them. Steevens. Read—“fill to your mistresses.” Farmer.

Note return to page 206 9&lblank; and princes, not doing so, Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd Are wonder'd at.] i. e. when they are found to be such small insignificant animals, after making so great a noise. Percy. The sense appears to be this.—When kings, like insects, lie dead before us, our admiration is excited by contemplating how in both instances the powers of creating bustle were superior to those which either object should seem to have promised. The worthless monarch, and the idle gnat, have only lived to make an empty bluster; and when both alike are dead, we wonder how it happened that they made so much, or that we permitted them to make it:—a natural reflection on the death of an unserviceable prince, who having dispensed no blessings, can hope for no better character. I cannot, however, help thinking that this passage is both corrupted and disarranged, having been originally designed for one of those rhyming couplets with which the play abounds: “And princes, not doing so, are like the gnat, “Which makes a sound, but kill'd is wonder'd at.” Steevens.

Note return to page 207 1Therefore to make's entrance more sweet, here say,] Old copy— “Therefore to make his entrance more sweet, “Here say,” &c. Steevens. Entrance was sometimes used by our old poets as a word of three syllables. Malone. By his entrance, I believe, is meant his present trance, the reverie in which he is supposed to be sitting. Steevens.

Note return to page 208 2&lblank; this standing-bowl of wine to him.] A standing-bowl was a bowl resting on a foot. Steevens.

Note return to page 209 3Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.] Thus, in Twine's translation: “Then Lucina having already in her heart professed to do him good, and now perceiving very luckily her father's mind to be inclined to the desired purpose,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 210 4Of whence he is, his name and parentage.] So, in the Confessio Amantis: “His doughter &lblank; “He bad to go on his message, “And fond for to make him glade, “And she did as her fader bade; “And goth to him the softe paas, “And asketh whens and what he was, “And praithe he shulde his thought leve.” Malone.

Note return to page 211 5&lblank; being in arts and arms;] The old copies have—been. I am responsible for the correction; and for the introduction of the words has been in the following speech. Malone.

Note return to page 212 6Even in your armours, as you are address'd, Will very well become a soldier's dance.] As you are accoutered, prepared for combat. So, in King Henry V.: “To-morrow for the march are we address'd.” The word very, in the next line, was inserted by the editor of the folio. Malone. So, in Twine's translation;—“I may not discourse at large of the liberall challenges made and proclaimed at the tilt, &c.—running afoote, and dauncing in armour,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 213 7I will not have excuse, with saying, this Loud musick is too harsh &lblank;] i. e. the loud noise made by the clashing of their armour. The dance here introduced is thus described in an ancient Dialogue Against the Abuse of Dancing, bl. l. no date: “There is a dance called Choria, “Which joy doth testify; “Another called Pyrricke “Which warlike feats doth try; “For men in armour gestures made, “And leapt, that so they might, “When need requires, be more prompt “In publique weale to fight.” Malone.

Note return to page 214 8So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well perform'd.] i. e. the excellence of this exhibition has justified the solicitation by which it was obtained. Steevens.

Note return to page 215 9And I have often heard,] I have inserted the word often, which was probably omitted by the carelessness of the compositor. Malone.

Note return to page 216 1&lblank; conduct &lblank;] Old copy—to conduct. Steevens.

Note return to page 217 2&lblank; to be next our own.] So, Gower: “The kynge his chamberleyne let calle, “And bad that he by all weye “A chamber for this man purvei “Which nigh his own chamber bee.” Malone.

Note return to page 218 3No, no, my Escanes; &c.] The old copy: “No, Escanes, know this of me &lblank;.” But this line being imperfect, I suppose it should be read as I have printed it. Steevens. “No, Escanes;” I suspect the author wrote—Know, Escanes; &c. Malone.

Note return to page 219 4A fire from heaven came, and shrivell'd up Their bodies,] This circumstance is mentioned by Gower: “&lblank; they hym tolde, “That for vengeance as God it wolde, “Antiochus, as men maie witte, “With thonder and lightnyng is forsmitte. “His doughter hath the same chance, “So ben thei both in o balance.” Malone.

Note return to page 220 5That all those eyes ador'd them, ere their fall, Scorn now, &c.] The expression is elliptical: “That all those eyes which ador'd them,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 221 6See, not a man, &c.] To what this charge of partiality was designed to conduct, we do not learn; for it appears to have no influence over the rest of the dialogue. Steevens.

Note return to page 222 7And be resolv'd, he lives to govern us,] Resolv'd is satisfied, free from doubt. So, in a subsequent scene: “Resolve your angry father, if my tongue,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 223 8And leaves us &lblank;) The quarto, 1609, reads—And leave us, which cannot be right. Malone.

Note return to page 224 9Whose death's, indeed, the strongest in our censure:] i. e. the most probable in our opinion. Censure is thus used in King Richard III.: “To give your censures in this weighty business.” Steevens. The old copies read—whose death indeed, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 225 1And knowing this kingdom, if without a head,] They did not know that the kingdom had absolutely lost its governor; for in the very preceding line this Lord observes that it was only more probable that he was dead, than living. I therefore read, with a very slight change,—if without a head. The old copy, for if, has—is. In the next line but one, by supplying the word will, which I suppose was omitted by the carelessness of the compositor, the sense and metre are both restored. The passage, as it stands in the old copy, is not, by any mode of construction, reducible to grammar. Malone.

Note return to page 226 2(Like goodly buildings left without a roof,)] The same thought occurs in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; leaves his part-created cost “A naked subject to the weeping clouds, “And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.” Steevens.

Note return to page 227 3Try honour's cause;] Perhaps we should read: “Try honour's course &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 228 4Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, Where's hourly trouble, &c.] Thus the old copy. Steevens. It must be acknowledged that a line in Hamlet,— “Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,” As well as the rhyme, adds some support to this reading: yet I have no doubt that the poet wrote: “&lblank; I leap into the seat &lblank;.” So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I have no spur “To prick the sides of my intent, but only “Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,” &c. On ship-board the pain and pleasure may be in the proportion here stated; but the troubles of him who plunges into the sea, (unless he happens to be an expert swimmer) are seldom of an hour's duration. Malone. “Where's hourly trouble, for a minute's ease.” So, in King Richard III.: “And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.” Malone. The expression is figurative, and by the words—“I leap into the seas,” &c. I believe the speaker only means—‘I embark too hastily on an expedition in which ease is disproportioned to labour.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 229 5To forbear, &c.] Old copy: “To forbear the absence of your king.” Some word being omitted in this line, I read: “To forbear choice i' the absence of your king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 230 6&lblank; and win unto return, You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.] As these are the concluding lines of a speech, perhaps they were meant to rhyme. We might therefore read: “&lblank; and win unto renown.” i. e. if you prevail on him to quit his present obscure retreat, and be reconciled to glory, you shall be acknowledged as the brightest ornaments of his throne. Steevens.

Note return to page 231 7We with our travels will endeavour it.] Old copy: “We with our travels will endeavour.” Endeavour what? I suppose, to find out Pericles. I have therefore added the syllable which appeared wanting both to metre and sense. Steevens. The author might have intended an abrupt sentence. Malone. I would readily concur with the opinion of Mr. Malone, had passion, instead of calm resolution, dictated the words of the speaker. Steevens.

Note return to page 232 8Enter Simonides, reading a Letter,] In The Historie of King Appolyn of Thyre, “two kynges sones” pay their court to the daughter of Archystrates, (the Simonides of the present play). He sends two rolls of paper to her, containing their names, &c. and desires her to choose which she will marry. She writes him a letter (in answer), of which Appolyn is the bearer,—that she will have the man “which hath passed the daungerous undes and perylles of the sea—all other to refuse.” The same circumstance is mentioned by Gower, who has introduced three suitors instead of two, in which our author has followed him. Malone. In Twine's translation, these suitors are also three in number,— Ardonius, Munditius, and Carnillus. Steevens.

Note return to page 233 9This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd,] It were to be wished that Simonides (who is represented as a blameless character) had hit on some more ingenuous expedient for the dismission of these wooers. Here he tells them as a solemn truth, what he knows to be a fiction of his own. Steevens.

Note return to page 234 1&lblank; I am beholden to you, For your sweet musick this last night:] Here also our author has followed Gower: “She, to doone hir faders hest, “Hir harpe set, and in the feste “Upon a chaire, whiche thei sette, “Hir selfe next to this man she sette. “With harpe both and eke with mouth “To him she did all that she couth, “To make him chere; and ever he sigheth, “And she him asketh howe him liketh.   “Madame, certes well, he saied; “But if ye the measure plaied, “Whiche, if you list, I shall you lere, “It were a glad thing for to here. “A leve, sir, tho quod she, “Nowe take the harpe, and lete me see “Of what measure that ye mene.—   “He taketh the harpe, and in his wise “He tempreth, and of such assize “Synginge he harpeth forth withall, “That as a voice celestial “Hem thought it sowned in her ere, “As though that it an angell were.” Malone.

Note return to page 235 2&lblank; to be her schoolmaster.] Thus the quarto 1619. The first copy reads—for her schoolmaster. Malone.

Note return to page 236 3&lblank; my gracious lord,] Old copies me. I am answerable for the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 237 4Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter,] So, Brabantio, addressing himself to Othello: “Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 238 5&lblank; the king.)] Thus the quarto 1609. The second copy has—a king. Malone.

Note return to page 239 6That never relish'd of a base descent.] So, in Hamlet: “That has no relish of salvation in it.” Again, in Macbeth: “So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; “They smack of honour both.” Malone.

Note return to page 240 7&lblank; No! &lblank; Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.] Thus all the copies. Simonides, I think, means to say—‘Not a rebel to our state!—Here comes my daughter: she can prove, thou art one.’ Perhaps, however, the author wrote—“Now, Here comes,” &c.— In Othello, we find nearly the same words: “Here comes the lady, let her witness it.” Malone.

Note return to page 241 8Even as my life, my blood that fosters it.] Even as my life loves my blood that supports it.—The quarto 1619, and the subsequent copies, read: “Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.” The reading of the text is found in the first quarto. Malone. I cannot approve of Malone's explanation of this line:—To make a person of life, and to say it loves the blood that fosters it, is an idea to which I cannot reconcile myself. Pericles means merely to say, that he loves Thaisa as his life, or as the blood that supports it; and it is in this sense that the editors of the quarto of 1619, and the subsequent copies, conceived the passage.—But the insertion of the word or was not necessary; it was sufficient to point it thus: “Even as my life;—the blood that fosters it.” M. Mason. Will a preceding line (see p. 84) befriend the opinion of either commentator? “Wishing it so much blood unto your life.” In my opinion, however, the sense in the text was meant to coincide with that which is so much better expressed in Julius Cæsar: “As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops “That visit my sad heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 242 9&lblank; get you to bed.] I cannot dismiss the foregoing scene, till I have expressed the most supreme contempt of it. Such another gross, nonsensical dialogue, would be sought for in vain among the earliest and rudest efforts of the British theatre. It is impossible not to wish that the Knights had horsewhipped Simonides, and that Pericles had kicked him off the stage. Steevens. I cannot see why the old king should be condemned to such severe discipline. The white lie with which he dismisses the Knights, to avoid the pain of giving them a direct refusal, is certainly wrong; for nothing can justify the violation of truth: but if he must be horsewhipped and kicked for the suspense in which he keeps the young lovers, I know not what degree of castigation would be sufficient for Prospero, who carries the same joke a great deal further. Boswell.

Note return to page 243 1Now sleep yslaked hath the rout; No din but snores, &c.] The quarto 1609, and the subsequent copies, read: “No din but snores about the house.” As Gower's speeches are all in rhyme, it is clear that the old copy is here corrupt. It first occurred to me that the author might have written: “Now sleep yslaked hath the rouse;” i. e. the carousal. But the mere transposition of the latter part of the second line, renders any further change unnecessary. Rout is likewise used by Gower for a company in the tale of Appolinus, the Pericles of the present play: “Upon a tyme with a route “This lord to play goeth hym out.” Again: “It fell a daie thei riden oute, “The kinge and queene and all the route.” Malone.

Note return to page 244 2No din but snores, the house about, Made louder by the o'er-fed breast &lblank;] So Virgil, speaking of Rhamnes, who was killed in the midnight expedition of Nisus and Euryalus: Rhamneten aggreditur, qui forte tapetibus altis Extructus, toto proflabat pectore somnum. Steevens. The quarto 1619, the folios, and Mr. Rowe, all read—o'er fee beast. The true reading has been recovered from the first quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 245 3&lblank; 'fore the mouse's hole;] Old copy: “&lblank; from the mouse's hole;” which may perhaps mean—‘at some little distance from the mouse's hole.’ I believe, however, we ought to read—'fore the mouse's hole. Malone.

Note return to page 246 4And crickets sing at th' oven's mouth, As the blither for their drouth.] So, in Cymbeline: “The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd sense “Repairs itself by rest.” The old copy has—Are the blither, &c. The emendation was suggested by Mr. Steevens. Perhaps we ought to read: “And crickets, singing at the oven's mouth, “Are the blither for their drouth.” Malone. This additional syllable would derange the measure. Steevens. The old copy is not more objectionable than many other elliptical passages in this play. Are the blither, is which are the blither. Boswell.

Note return to page 247 5Hymen hath brought the bride to bed, Where, by the loss of maidenhead, A babe is moulded:] So, in Twine's translation: “The bride was brought to bed, and Apollonius tarried not long from her, where he accomplished the duties of marriage, and faire Lucina conceived with childe the same night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 248 6Be attent,] This adjective is again used in Hamlet, Act I. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 249 7With your fine fancies quaintly eche;] i. e. eke out. So, in the Chorus to King Henry V. (first folio): “&lblank; still be kind, “And eche out our performance with your mind.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice, quarto, 1600, (Heyes's edition): “&lblank; 'tis to peeze the time, “To ech it, and to draw it out in length.” Malone.

Note return to page 250 8&lblank; the Lords kneel to the former.] The Lords kneel to Pericles, because they are now, for the first time, informed by this letter, that he is king of Tyre. “No man,” says Gower, in his Confessio Amantis: “&lblank; knew the soth cas, “But he hym selfe; what man he was.” By the death of Antiochus and his daughter, Pericles has also succeeded to the throne of Antioch, in consequence of having rightly interpreted the riddle proposed to him. Malone.

Note return to page 251 9By many a dearn and painful perch, &c.] Dearn is direful, dismal. See Skinner's Etymol. in v. Dere. The word is used by Spenser, b. ii. c. i. st. 35.—B. iii. c. i. st. 14. The construction is somewhat involved. ‘The careful search of Pericles is made by many a dearn and painful perch,—by the four opposing coignes, which join the world together;—with all due diligence,’ &c. Malone. Dearn signifies lonely, solitary. See note on King Lear, vol. x. p. 185. A perch is a measure of five yards and a half. Steevens.

Note return to page 252 1By the four opposing coignes,] By the four opposite corner-stones that unite and bind together the great fabrick of the world. The word is again used by Shakspeare in Macbeth: “No jutty, frieze, “Buttress, or coigne of vantage, but this bird “Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle.” In the passage before us, the author seems to have considered the world as a stupendous edifice, artificially constructed.—To seek a man in every corner of the globe, is still common language. All the ancient copies read: “By the four opposing crignes.” but there is no such English word. For the ingenious emendation inserted in the text, which is produced by the change of a single letter, the reader is indebted to Mr. Tyrwhitt. Malone. The word—coign, occurs also in Coriolanus: “See you yond' coign o' the Capitol?” Steevens.

Note return to page 253 2Can stead the quest.] i. e. help, befriend, or assist the search. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; can you so stead me, “To bring me to the sight of Isabella?” Steevens.

Note return to page 254 3(Fame answering the most strong inquire,)] The old copy reads—“the most strange inquire;” but it surely was not strange that Pericles' subjects should be solicitous to know what was become of him. We should certainly read—“the most strong inquire;”—this earnest, anxious inquiry. The same mistake has happened in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, folio, 1623: “Whose weakness married to thy stranger state &lblank;.” instead of stronger. The same mistake has also happened in other places. Malone.

Note return to page 255 4The mutiny there he hastes t' oppress; Says to them, if king Pericles &lblank;] Surely both sense and rhyme direct us to read: “The mutiny here he hastes t' appease,” &c. Steevens. T' oppress is to suppress; opprimere. The incorrect rhyme proves nothing. Boswell.

Note return to page 256 5Come not home in twice six moons, He obedient to their dooms,] Moons and dooms are very miserable rhymes; nor do I recollect that a plural of the substantive doom is ever used.—A slight transposition will remedy the present defect— “Come not, in twice six moons, home, “He obedient to their doom,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 257 6Y-ravished the regions round,] From the false print of the first edition, Iranished, the subsequent editors formed a still more absurd reading: “Irony shed the regions round &lblank;.” Mr. Steevens's ingenious emendation, to which I have paid due attention by inserting it in the text, is strongly confirmed by the following passage in Gower, De Confessione Amantis: “This tale after the kynge it had “Pentapolin all oversprad, “There was no joye for to seche, “For every man it had in speche, “And saiden all of one accorde, “A worthy kynge shall ben our lorde. “That thought us first an heavines, “Is shape us nowe to great gladnes. “Thus goth the tydinge over all.” Malone.

Note return to page 258 7&lblank; half the flood Hath their keel cut;] They have made half their voyage with a favourable wind. So, Gower: “When thei were in the sea amid, “Out of the north thei see a cloude; “The storme arose, the wyndes loude “Thei blewen many a dredeful blaste, “The welkin was all over-caste.” Malone.

Note return to page 259 8&lblank; but fortune's mood &lblank;] The old copy reads—but fortune mov'd. Malone. Mov'd could never be designed as a rhyme to flood. I suppose we should read—but fortune's mood, i. e. disposition. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My wife's in a wayward mood to-day.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; muddied in fortune's mood.” Steevens.

Note return to page 260 9&lblank; well-a-near!] This exclamation is equivalent to well-a-day, and is still used in Yorkshire, where I have often heard it. The Glossary to the Praise of Yorkshire Ale, 1697, says,— wellaneerin is lack-a-day, or alas, alas! Reed.

Note return to page 261 1&lblank; and, well-a-near! Doth fall in travail with her fear:] So, in Twine's translation: “Lucina, what with sea-sicknesse, and fear of danger, fell in labour of a child,” &c.

Note return to page 262 2&lblank; in this fell storm,] This is the reading of the earliest quarto. The folios and the modern editors have self storm. Malone.

Note return to page 263 3I nill relate;] The further consequences of this storm I shall not describe. Malone.

Note return to page 264 4Which might not what by me is told.] i. e. which might not conveniently convey what by me is told,” &c. What ensues may conveniently be exhibited in action; but action could not well have displayed all the events that I have now related. Malone.

Note return to page 265 5In your imagination hold This stage, the ship, upon whose deck The sea-tost, &c.] It is clear from these lines, that when the play was originally performed, no attempt was made to exhibit either a sea or a ship. The ensuing scene and some others must have suffered considerably in the representation, from the poverty of the stage apparatus in the time of our author. The old copy has—seas tost. Mr. Rowe made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 266 6The sea-tost prince &lblank;] The old copy reads—the sea-tost Pericles. The transcriber perhaps mistook the abbreviation of Prince, for that of Pericles, a trisyllable which our present metre refuses to admit. Steevens.

Note return to page 267 7Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges,] The expression is borrowed from the sacred writings: “The waters stood above the mountains;—at thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away.” It should be remembered, that Pericles is here supposed to speak from the deck of his ship. Lychorida, on whom he calls, in order to obtain some intelligence of his queen, is supposed to be beneath, in the cabin. —This great vast, is, this wide expanse. See vol. xiv. p. 238, n. 3. This speech is exhibited in so strange a form in the original, and all the subsequent editions, that I shall lay it before the reader, that he may be enabled to judge in what a corrupted state this play has hitherto appeared, and be induced to treat the editor's imperfect attempts to restore it to integrity, with the more indulgence: “The God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, “Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou that hast “Upon the windes commaund, bind them in brasse; “Having call'd them from the deepe, ô still “Thy deafning dreadful thunders, gently quench “Thy nimble sulphirous flashes, ô How Lychorida! “How does my queene? then storm venemously, “Wilt thou speat all thyself? the sea-man's whistle “Is as a whisper in the eares of death, “Unheard Lychorida? Lucina oh! “Divinest patrioness and my wife gentle “To those that cry by night, convey thy deitie “Aboard our dauncing boat, make swift the pangues “Of my queenes travayles? now Lychorida.” Malone.

Note return to page 268 8Having call'd them from the deep! O still &lblank;] Perhaps a word was omitted at the press. We might read: “Having call'd them from th' enchafed deep &lblank;.” Malone. The present regulation of the lines, by the mere repetition of the pronouns—thy and thou, renders, perhaps, any other insertion needless. Steevens.

Note return to page 269 9&lblank; Thou storm, thou! venomously Wilt thou spit all thyself?] All the copies read—Then storm, &c. which cannot be right, because it renders the passage nonsense. The slight change that I have made, [Thou storm] affords an easy sense. Malone. Pericles, having called to Lychorida, without the power to make her hear on account of the tempest, at last with frantick peevishness addresses himself to it— “&lblank; Thou storm, thou! venomously “Wilt thou spit all thyself?” Having indulged himself in this question, he grows cooler, and observes that the very boatswain's whistle has no more effect on the sailors, than the voices of those who speak to the dead. He then repeats his enquiries to Lychorida, but receiving no answer, concludes with a prayer for his queen in her present dangerous condition. Venomously is maliciously. Shakspeare has somewhat of the same expression in one of his historical plays: “The watry kingdom, whose ambitious head Spits in the face of heaven &lblank;.” Chapman likewise, in his version of the fourth Iliad, says of the sea that she— “&lblank; spits every way her foam.” Steevens.

Note return to page 270 1Is as a whisper in the ears of death,] In another place the poet supposes death to be awakened by the turbulence of the storm: “&lblank; And in the visitation of the winds, “Who take the ruffian billows by the top, “Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them “With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, “That with the hurly, death itself awakes &lblank;.” King Henry IV. Part II. Malone. The image in the text might have been suggested by Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “&lblank; They could scarcely, when they directed, hear their own whistle; for the sea strave with the winds which should be lowder, and the shrowds of the ship, with a ghastful noise to them that were in it, witnessed that their ruine was the wager of the others' contention.” Steevens.

Note return to page 271 2Divinest patroness, and midwife, &c.] The quarto 1609, and the subsequent copies read—and my wife. Mr. Steevens's happy emendation, which I have inserted in the text, is so clearly right, that it requires neither support nor illustration. If it wanted the latter, Horace would furnish it: Montium custos nemorumque virgo, Quæ laborantes utero puellas Ter vocata audis, adimisque leto,   Diva triformis. Again, in The Andria of Terence: Juno Lucina, fer opem: serva me, obsecro! Malone.

Note return to page 272 3&lblank; who if it had Conceit,] If it had thought. So, in King Richard III.: “There's some conceit or other likes him well, “When that he bids good morrow with such a spirit.” Malone.

Note return to page 273 4Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.] Our author uses the same expression, on the same occasion, in The Tempest: “You mar our labour;—keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.” Malone.

Note return to page 274 5Use honour with you.] The meaning is sufficiently clear— “In this particular you might learn from us a more honourable conduct.”—But the expression is so harsh, that I suspect the passage to be corrupt. Malone. I suspect the author wrote—vie honour, a phrase much in use among Shakspeare and his contemporaries. Thus, in Chapman's version of the twentieth Iliad: “What then need we vie calumnies: like women &lblank;?” See also vol. v. p. 427, n. 4. Mr. M. Mason has offered the same conjecture. I read, however, for the sake of measure,— yourselves. Steevens. The meaning is evidently this: “We poor mortals recal not what we give, and therefore in that respect we may contend with you in honour.” I have therefore no doubt but we ought to read: “And therein may “Vie honour with,” &c. The same expression occurs in the introduction to the fourth Act, where Gower says: “&lblank; so “The dove of Paphos might with the crow “Vie feathers white.” The trace of the letters in the words vie and use is nearly the same, especially if we suppose that the v was used instead of the u vowel; which is frequently the case in the old editions: “Nature wants stuff, “To vie strange forms with fancy.” Antony and Cleopatra. M. Mason.

Note return to page 275 6Quiet and gentle thy conditions!] Conditions anciently meant qualities, dispositions of mind. So, in Othello: “And then of so gentle a condition!” He is speaking of Desdemona. Again, in King Henry V.: “Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth.” “The late Earl of Essex (says Sir Walter Raleigh) told Queen Elizabeth that her conditions were as crooked as her carcase;— but it cost him his head.” Malone.

Note return to page 276 7&lblank; welcom'd &lblank;] Old copy—welcome. For this correction I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 277 8&lblank; as chiding a nativity,] i. e. as noisy a one. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Hippolita, speaking of the clamour of the hounds: “&lblank; never did I hear “Such gallant chiding.” See note on that passage, vol. v. p. 297, n. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 278 9To herald thee from the womb:] The old copy reads: “To harold thee from the womb &lblank;.” For the emendation now made, the reader is indebted to Mr. Steevens. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; only to herald thee into his presence, “Not pay thee.” This word is in many ancient books written harold, and harauld. So, in Ives's Select Papers relative to English Antiquities, quarto, 1773, p. 130: “&lblank; and before them kings of armes, harolds, and pursuyvaunts.” Again, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1610: “Truth is no harauld, nor no sophist, sure.” See also Cowel's Interpreter, in v. Herald, Heralt, or Harold; which puts Mr. Steevens's emendation beyond a doubt. Malone. So, more appositely, in the Preface to Certaine Secrete Wonders of Nature, &c. 4to. bl. l. by Edward Fenton, 1569: “&lblank; the elementes have been harolds, trumpetters, ministers, and executioners of the justice of heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 279 1Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,] i. e. thou hast already lost more (by the death of thy mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee. Portage is used for gate or entrance in one of Shakspeare's historical plays. Steevens. Portage is used in King Henry V. where it signifies an open space: “Let it [the eye] pry through the portage of the head.” Portage is an old word signifying a toll or impost, but it will not commodiously apply to the present passage. Perhaps, however, Pericles means to say, you have lost more than the payment made to me by your birth, together with all that you may hereafter acquire, can countervail. Malone.

Note return to page 280 2&lblank; I do not fear the flaw;] i. e. the blast. See Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 476, n. 5. Malone. So, in Chapman's version of the eleventh Iliad: “Wraps waves on waves, hurls up the froth beat with a vehement flaw.” Steevens.

Note return to page 281 3It hath done to me the worst.] So, in the Confessio Amantis: “&lblank; a wife! “My joye, my lust, and my desyre, “My welth and my recoverire! “Why shall I live, and thou shalt die? “Ha, thou fortune, I thee defie, “Now hast thou do to me thy werst; “A herte! why ne wilt thou berst?” Malone.

Note return to page 282 4&lblank; this fresh-new sea-farer,] We meet a similar compound epithet in King Richard III.: “Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.” Malone.

Note return to page 283 5Slack the bolins there;] Bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a ship are governed when the wind is unfavourable. They are slackened when it is high. This term occurs again in The Two Noble Kinsmen: “&lblank; the wind is fair, “Top the bowling.” They who wish for more particular information concerning bolings, may find it in Smith's Sea Grammar, 4to, 1627, p. 23. Steevens.

Note return to page 284 61 Sail.—Blow and split thyself, 2 Sail. But sea-room, &c.] So, in The Tempest: “Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.” Malone.

Note return to page 285 7&lblank; an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.] So, in The Winter's Tale: “Now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast.” An is used here, as in many other places, for if, or though. Malone.

Note return to page 286 8&lblank; till the ship be cleared of the dead.] So, in Twine's translation: “My lord, plucke up your hearte, and be of good cheere, and consider, I pray you, that the ship may not abide to carry the dead carkas, and therefore commaund it to be cast into the sea, that we may the better escape.” This superstitious belief is also commemorated by Fuller in his Historie of the Holy Warre, book iv. ch. 27: “His body was carried into France there to be buried, and was most miserably tossed; it being observed, that the sea cannot digest the crudity of a dead corpse, being a due debt to be interred where it dieth; and a ship cannot abide to be made a bier of.” A circumstance exactly similar is found in the Lyfe of Saynt Mary Magdalene, in the Golden Legend, Wynkyn de Worde's edition, fo. clxix. Steevens.

Note return to page 287 9&lblank; strong in earnest.] Old copy—strong in easterne. Steevens. I have no doubt that this passage is corrupt, but know not how to amend it. Malone. I read, with Mr. M. Mason, (transposing only the letters of the original word,)—“strong in earnest.” So, in Cymbeline, we have—“strong in appetite;” and in Timon, “Be strong in whore.” Steevens. I would read—“strong in custom.” They say they have still observed it at sea, and are strong in their adherence to their usages. If the letters c and u were slurred, they might easily be mistaken for ea; the o not joined at the top might seem like er, and the last stroke of the m, if disjoined from the others, or carelessly formed, might pass for ne. The experience of my corrector of the press has sanctioned my conjecture. Boswell.

Note return to page 288 1&lblank; for she must overboard straight.] These words are in the old copy, by an evident mistake, given to Pericles. Malone.

Note return to page 289 2To give thee hallow'd to thy grave.] The old Shepherd, in The Winter's Tale, expresses the same apprehension concerning the want of sepulchral rites, and that he shall be buried— “&lblank; where no priest shovels in dust.” Malone.

Note return to page 290 3Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;] The defect both of metre and sense shows that this line, as it appears in the old copy, is corrupted. It reads: “Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in oare.” Malone. I believe we should read, with that violence which a copy so much corrupted will sometimes force upon us: “Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; “Where, &c. Shakspeare, in The Tempest, has the same word on the same occasion: “My son i' the ooze is bedded.” Steevens. Again, ibidem: “&lblank; I wish “Myself were mudded in that oozy bed, “Where my son lies.” Again, in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint: “Of folded schedules had she many a one, “Which she perus'd, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood, “Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud.” Malone.

Note return to page 291 4And aye-remaining lamps, &c.] Old copies: “The air-remaining lamps &lblank;.” Steevens. Air-remaining, if it be right, must mean air-hung, suspended for ever in the air. So, (as Mr. Steevens observes to me,) in Shakspeare's 21st Sonnet: “&lblank; those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air.” In King Richard II. right-drawn sword is used for a sword drawn in a just cause; and in Macbeth we meet with air-drawn dagger. Perhaps, however, the author wrote—aye-remaining. Thus, in Othello: “Witness, you ever-burning lights above &lblank;.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “To feed for aye her lamp, and flames of love.” Malone. Thus also, Milton, in his Comus, v. 197: “&lblank; the stars “That nature hung in heaven, and fill'd their lamps “With everlasting oil &lblank;.” The propriety of the emendation suggested by Mr. Malone, will be increased, if we recur to our author's leading thought, which is founded on the customs observed in the pomp of ancient sepulture. Within old monuments and receptacles for the dead, perpetual (i. e. aye-remaining) lamps were supposed to be lighted up. Thus, Pope, in his Eloisa: “Ah hopeless, lasting flames, like those that burn “To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn!” I would, however, read: “And aye-remaining lamps,” &c. “Instead of a monument erected over thy bones, and perpetual lamps to burn near them, the spouting whale shall oppress thee with his weight, and the mass of waters shall roll with low heavy murmur over thy head.’ Steevens. Hudibras has the same allusion: “Love in your heart as idly burns “As fire in antique Roman urns, “To warm the dead, and vainly light “Those only that see nothing by't.” Reed.

Note return to page 292 5&lblank; the belching whale,] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; like scaled sculls “Before the belching whale.” Malone.

Note return to page 293 6And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,] Milton perhaps had this verse in his head, when he wrote, “Where thou perhaps under the humming tide “Visit'st,” &c. Lycidas, v. 157. He afterwards changed humming to whelming. Holt White. Thus also Pope, 18th Iliad, 472: “The rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head.” Perhaps our great translator had previously cast his eye on Chapman's version of the same passage, 4to. 1598: “&lblank; over us “The swelling waves of old Oceanus “With fomie murmur flow'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 294 7&lblank; ink and paper,] This is the reading of the second quarto. The first has taper. Malone.

Note return to page 295 8Bring me the sattin coffer:] The old copies have—coffin. It seems somewhat extraordinary that Pericles should have carried a coffin to sea with him. We ought, I think, to read, as I have printed,—coffer. Malone. Sattin coffer is most probably the true reading. So, in a subsequent scene: “Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, “Lay with you in your coffer.” Our ancient coffers were often adorned on the inside with such costly materials. A relation of mine has a trunk which formerly belonged to Katharine Howard when queen, and it is lined throughout with rose-coloured sattin, most elaborately quilted. By the sattin coffer, however, may be only meant the coffer employed to contain sattins and other rich materials for dress. Thus we name a tea-chest, &c. from their contents. Pericles, however, does not mean to bury his queen in this sattin coffer, but to take from thence the cloth of state in which it seems she was afterwards shrowded. It appears likewise that her body was found in the chest caulk'd and bitumed by the sailors. So, in Twine's translation; “&lblank; a large chest,—and we will seare it all ouer within with pitch and rozen melted together, &c. —Then took they the body of the faire lady Lucina, and arrayed her in princely apparell, and laid her into the chest,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 296 9Alter thy course for Tyre.] Change thy course, which is now for Tyre, and go to Tharsus. Malone.

Note return to page 297 1&lblank; Cerimon,] In Twine's translation he is called—a Physician. Our author has made a Lord of him. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 2I have been in many; but such a night as this, Till now, I ne'er endur'd.] So, in Macbeth: “Threescore and ten I can remember well “Within the volume of which time I have seen “Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night “Hath trifled former knowings.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; Since I was man, “Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, “Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never “Remember to have heard.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds “Have riv'd the knotty oaks, and I have seen “The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, “To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds; “But never till to-night, never till now, “Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.” Malone.

Note return to page 299 3&lblank; Give this to the 'pothecary,] The recipe that Cerimon sends to the apothecary, we must suppose, is intended either for the poor men already mentioned, or for some of his other patients. —The preceding words show that it cannot be designed for the master of the servant introduced here. Malone. Perhaps this circumstance was introduced for no other reason than to mark more strongly the extensive benevolence of Cerimon. For the poor men who have just left the stage, kitchen physick only was designed. Steevens.

Note return to page 300 4Shook, as the earth did quake;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the obscure bird “Clamour'd the live-long night: some say, the earth “Was feverous and did shake.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; as if the world “Was feverous and did tremble.” Malone.

Note return to page 301 5The very principals did seem to rend, And all to topple:] The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof of a building. The second quarto which is followed by the modern copies, reads corruptly—principles. If the speaker had been apprehensive of a general dissolution of nature, (which we must understand, if we read principles,) he did not need to leave his house: he would have been in as much danger without as within. All to is an augmentative often used by our ancient writers. It occurs frequently in the Confessio Amantis. The word topple, which means tumble, is again used by Shakspeare in Macbeth, and applied to buildings: “Though castles topple on their warders' heads.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down “Steeples and moss-grown towers.” Malone. Mr. Malone has properly explained the word—principals. So, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 33d book of Pliny's Natural History, edit. 1601, p. 467:—“the yea, the jambes, posts, principals, and standerds, all of the same metall.” Steevens. I believe this only means, ‘and every thing to tumble down.’ M. Mason.

Note return to page 302 6'Tis not our husbandry.] Husbandry here signifies economical prudence. So, in King Henry V.: “For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers, “Which is both healthful and good husbandry.” See also Hamlet, Act I. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 303 7Rich tire about you, &c.] Thus the quarto, 1609; but the sense of the passage is not sufficiently clear. The gentlemen rose early, because they were but in lodgings which stood exposed near the sea. They wonder, however, to find Lord Cerimon stirring, because he had rich tire about him; meaning perhaps a bed more richly and comfortably furnished, where he could have slept warm and secure in defiance of the tempest. The reasoning of these gentlemen should rather have led them to say—such towers about you; i. e. a house or castle that could safely resist the assaults of weather. They left their mansion because they were no longer secure if they remained in it, and naturally wonder why he should have quitted his, who had no such apparent reason for deserting it and rising early. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 8Shake off the golden slumber of repose,] So, in Macbeth: “Shake off this downy sleep.” Steevens.

Note return to page 305 9Virtue and cunning &lblank;] Cunning means here knowledge. Malone. So, in Jeremiah, ix. 17: “Send for cunning women that they may come.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 306 1&lblank; the blest infusions That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies “In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.” Steevens.

Note return to page 307 2Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,] The old copy reads: “Or tie my pleasure up,” &c. Let the critick who can explain this reading of the quarto, displace my emendation. Steevens.

Note return to page 308 3To please the fool and death.] The Fool and Death were principal personages in the old Moralities. They are mentioned by our author in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; merely thou art death's fool,” &c. Malone. Mr. Malone (as I had been) is on this occasion misled by a positive and hitherto uncontradicted assertion of Dr. Warburton. But I now think myself authorised to declare, on the strength of long and repeated enquiries, urged by numerous friends as well as myself, that no Morality in which Death and the Fool were agents, ever existed among the early French, English, or Italian stage-representations. I have seen, indeed, (though present means of reference to it are beyond my reach,) an old Flemish print in which Death is exhibited in the act of plundering a miser of his bags, and the Fool (discriminated by his bauble, &c.) is standing behind, and grinning at the process. The following intelligence on the same subject, though it applies more immediately to the allusion in Measure for Measure, and has occurred too late to stand in its proper place, may here, without any glaring impropriety, be introduced: “&lblank; Merely thou art death's fool; “For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, “And yet run'st towards him still.” It was in a comment on these lines that Dr. Warburton's Gratis Dictum concerning the Fool and Death, made its first appearance. The subsequent notitiæ are derived from two different gentlemen, whose report reflects a light upon each other. Mr. Douce, to whom our readers are indebted for several happy illustrations of Shakspeare, assures me, that some years ago, at a fair in a large market town, he observed a solitary figure sitting in a booth, and apparently exhausted with fatigue. This person was habited in a close black vest, painted over with bones in imitation of a skeleton. But my informant being then very young, and wholly uninitiated in theatrical antiquities, made no enquiry concerning so whimsical a phœnomenon. Indeed but for what follows, I might have been induced to suppose that the object he saw was nothing more or less than the hero of a well known pantomime, entitled Harlequin Skeleton. This circumstance, however, having accidentally reached the ears of a venerable clergyman who is now more than eighty years of age, he told me that he very well remembered to have met with such another figure, above fifty years ago, at Salisbury. Being there during the time of some publick meeting, he happened to call on a surgeon at the very instant when the representative of Death was brought in to be let blood on account of a tumble he had had on the stage, while in pursuit of his antagonist, a Merry Andrew, who very anxiously attended him (dressed also in character) to the phlebotomist's house. The same gentleman's curiosity a few days afterwards, prevailed on him to be spectator of the dance in which our emblem of mortality was a performer. This dance, he says, entirely consisted of Death's contrivances to surprize the Merry Andrew, and of the Merry Andrew's efforts to elude the stratagems of Death, by whom at last he was overpowered; his finale being attended with such circumstances as mark the exit of the Dragon of Wantley. What Dr. Warburton therefore has asserted of the drama, is only known to be true of the dance; and the subject under consideration was certainly more adapted to the latter than the former, agility and grimace, rather than dialogue, being necessary to its exhibition. They who seek after the last lingering remains of ancient modes of amusement, will rather trace them with success in the country, than in the neighbourhood of London, from whence even Punch, the legitimate and undoubted successor of the old Vice, is almost banished. It should seem, that the general idea of this serio-comick pas-de-deux had been borrowed from the ancient Dance of Machabre, commonly called The Dance of Death, a grotesque ornament of cloisters, both here and in foreign parts. The aforesaid combination of figures, though erroneously ascribed to Hans Holbein, was certainly of an origin more remote than the times in which that eminent painter is known to have flourished. Steevens. Although the subject before us was certainly borrowed from the ancient Dance of Macaber, which I conceive to have been acted in churches, (but in a perfectly serious and moral way,) it receives a completer illustration from an old initial letter belonging to a set of them in my possession, on which is a dance of Death, infinitely more beautiful in point of design than even the celebrated one cut in wood and likewise ascribed to the graver of Holbein. In this letter, the Fool is engaged in a very stout combat with his adversary, and is actually buffeting him with a bladder filled with peas or small pebbles, an instrument yet in fashion among Merry Andrews. It is almost unnecessary to add that these initials are of foreign workmanship; and the inference is, that such farces were common upon the continent, and are here alluded to by the artist. I should not omit to mention, that the letter in question has been rudely copied in an edition of Stowe's Survey of London. Douce.

Note return to page 309 4If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold, &c.] This indelicate allusion has already occurred in the scene between Pericles and the Fishermen, and may also be found in King Richard III.: “Whom their o'ercloyed country vomits forth &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 310 5It is a good constraint of fortune, that It belches upon us.] This singular expression is again applied by our author to the sea, in The Tempest: “You are three men of sin, whom destiny “(That hath to instrument this lower world, “And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea “Hath caused to belch up!” Malone.

Note return to page 311 6How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd!] Bottom'd, which is the reading of all the copies, is evidently a corruption. We had before: “Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready.” Malone.

Note return to page 312 7As ever hit my nostril;] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; as ever offended nostril.” Steevens.

Note return to page 313 8&lblank; Apollo, perfect me i' the characters!] Cerimon, having made physick his peculiar study, would naturally, in any emergency, invoke Apollo. On the present occasion, however, he addresses him as the patron of learning. Malone.

Note return to page 314 9(If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)] This uncommon phrase is repeatedly used in Twine's translation: “Then give thanks unto God, who in my flight hath brought me a-land into your costes.” Again: “&lblank; certaine pyrats which were come a-land.” Steevens.

Note return to page 315 1Who finds her, give her burying, She was the daughter of a king:] The following, in Twine's translation, are the first words of Lucina on her recovery: “&lblank; touch me not otherwise than thou oughtest to doe, for I am a king's daughter and the wife of a king.” Steevens. So, in King Henry VIII. Queen Catharine says: “&lblank; Embalm me, “Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like “A queen and daughter to a king inter me.” Boswell.

Note return to page 316 2&lblank; thou hast a heart That even cracks for woe!] So, in Hamlet: “Now cracks a noble heart.” Even is the reading of the second quarto. The first has ever. Malone.

Note return to page 317 3&lblank; I have heard &lblank;] For the insertion of the word—have, which both the metre and the sense require, I am responsible. Malone.

Note return to page 318 4&lblank; nine hours lien dead,] So, in the lxviiith Psalm: “&lblank; though ye have lien among the pots &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 319 5Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.] So, on a similar occasion, in Othello, Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; O, a chair, a chair!— “&lblank; O, that's well said, the chair;— “Some good man bear him carefully from hence.” Malone.

Note return to page 320 6The rough and woful musick that we have, Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.] Paulina in like manner in The Winter's Tale, when she pretends to bring Hermione to life, orders musick to be played, to awake her from her trance. So also, the Physician in King Lear, when the King is about to wake from the sleep he had fallen into, after his frenzy: “Please you draw near;—Louder the musick there!” Malone.

Note return to page 321 7The vial once more;—How thou stirr'st, thou block?— The musick there.] The first quarto reads—“The viol once more.” The second and the subsequent editions—the vial. If the first be right, Cerimon must be supposed to repeat his orders that they should again sound their rough and woeful musick. So, in Twelth-Night: “That strain again!” The word viol has occurred before in this play in the sense of violin. I think, however, the reading of the second quarto is right. Cerimon, in order to revive the Queen, first commands loud musick to be played, and then a second time administers some cordial to her, which we may suppose had been before administered to her when his servants entered with the napkins, &c. See Confessio Amantis, p. 180: “&lblank; this worthie kinges wife “Honestlie thei token oute, “And maden fyres all aboute; “Thei leied hir on a couche softe, “And with a shete warmed ofte “Hir colde breste began to heate, “Hir herte also to slacke and beate. “This maister hath hir every joynte “With certein oyle and balsam anoynte, “And put a licour in hir mouthe “Whiche is to fewe clerkes couthe.” Little weight is to be laid on the spelling of the first quarto, for vial was formerly spelt viol. In the quarto edition of King Richard II. 1615: “Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, “Were seven viols of his sacred blood,” Again, in the folio 1633, ibidem: “One viol full of Edward's sacred blood.” Again, in The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “She poured forth into the vyoll of the fryer “Water &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 322 9&lblank; a warmth Breathes out of her;] The old copies read—a warmth breath out of her. The correction was suggested by Mr. Steevens. The second quarto, and the modern editions, read unintelligibly: “Nature awakes a warm breath out of her.” Malone. In Twine's translation it is to Cerimon's pupil Machaon, and not to Cerimon himself, that the lady is indebted for her recovery: “&lblank; he pulled the clothes from the ladies bosome, and powred foorth the ointment, and bestowing it abroad with his hand perceived some warmth in her breast, and that there was life in her body.—Then went Machaon unto his master Cerimon, and saide: The woman whom thou thinkest to be deade is alive,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 323 1&lblank; cases to those heavenly jewels &lblank;] The same expression occurs in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; they seem'd almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes.” Malone. “Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels &lblank;.” So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book iii.: “Her faire lids, then hiding her fairer eyes, seemed unto him sweet boxes, rich in themselves, but containing in them far richer jewels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 324 2Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;] So, in The Tempest: “The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, “And say what thou see'st yond?” Malone.

Note return to page 325 3&lblank; What world is this?] So, in the Confessio Amantis: “And first hir eyen up she caste, “And whan she more of strength caught, “Hir armes both forth she straughte; “Helde up hir honde and piteouslie “She spake, and said, where am I? “Where is my lorde? What worlde is this? “As she that wote not howe it is.” Malone.

Note return to page 326 4Hush, gentle neighbours; &lblank; &lblank; to the next chamber bear her.] Thus, in Twine's translation: “And when he had so saide, he tooke the body reverently in his armes, and bare it unto his owne chamber,” &c. Steevens. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence “Into another chamber: softly, pray; “Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, “Unless some dull and favourable hand “Will whisper musick to my wearied spirit.” Malone.

Note return to page 327 5&lblank; though they hurt you mortally,] First quarto—haunt. The folios and the modern editions read—hate. Malone.

Note return to page 328 6Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.] Old copy: “Your shakes of fortune, though they haunt you mortally,   “Yet glance full wond'ringly on us.” I read, (as in the text): “Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, “Yet glance full wand'ringly,” &c. Thus, Tully, in one of his Familiar Epistles: “&lblank; omnibus telis fortunæ proposita sit vita nostra.” Again, Shakspeare, in his Othello: “&lblank; The shot of accident, or dart of chance &lblank;.” Again, in Hamlet: “The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.” The sense of the passage should seem to be as follows.—All the malice of fortune is not confined to yourself. Though her arrows strike deeply at you, yet wandering from their mark, they sometimes glance on us; as at present, when the uncertain state of Tyre deprives us of your company at Tharsus. Steevens.

Note return to page 329 7Manner'd as she is born.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; and he is one “The truest manner'd, such a holy witch, “That he enchants societies to him.” Malone.

Note return to page 330 8Fear not, my lord, but think Your grace,” &c.] I suspect the poet wrote: “Fear not, my lord, but that “Your grace,” &c. Malone. I have removed the difficulty by omitting the words—but think, which are unnecessary to the sense, and spoil the measure. Steevens. Think is, be satisfied that we cannot forget your benefits. Boswell.

Note return to page 331 9&lblank; If neglection Should therein make me vile,] The modern editions have neglect. But the reading of the old copy is right. The word is used by Shakspeare in Troilus and Cressida: “And this neglection of degree it is “That by a pace goes backward.” Malone.

Note return to page 332 1&lblank; my nature need a spur,] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I have no spur “To prick the sides of my intent &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 2Your honour and your goodness teach me to it,] Old copies—teach me to it, a weak reading, if not apparently corrupt. For the insertion of its present substitute [credit] I am answerable. I once thought we should read—witch me to it, a phrase familiar enough to Shakspeare. Mr. M. Mason is satisfied with the old reading; but thinks “the expression would be improved by leaving out the participle to, which hurts the sense, without improving the metre.” Then, says he, the line will run thus: “Your honour and your goodness teach me it &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 334 3Though I show will in't:] The meaning may be—“Though I appear wilful and perverse by such conduct.” Malone. “&lblank; Till she be married, madam, “By bright Diana, whom we honour all, “Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, “Though I show will in't.” Old copy: “Unsister'd shall this heir of mine,” &c. But a more obvious and certain instance of corruption perhaps is not discoverable throughout our whole play. I read, as in the text; for so is the present circumstance recited in Act V. and in consequence of the oath expressed at the present moment: “&lblank; And now, “This ornament, that makes me look so dismal, “Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form; “And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, “To grace thy marriage day, I'll beautify.” So also, in Twine's translation: “&lblank; and he sware a solemn oath, that he would not poule his head, clip his beard, &c. untill he had married his daughter at ripe yeares.” Without the present emendation therefore, Pericles must appear to have behaved unaccountably; as the binding power of a romantick oath could alone have been the motive of his long persistence in so strange a neglect of his person. The words—unscissar'd and hair, were easily mistaken for—unsister'd and heir; as the manuscript might have been indistinct, or the compositor inattentive. The verb—to scissar [i. e. to cut with scissars] is found in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher: “My poor chin too, for 'tis not scissar'd just “To such a favourite's glass.” I once strove to explain the original line as follows “Unsister'd shall this heir of mine remain, “Though I show will in't:” i. e. till she be married, I swear by Diana, (though I may show [will, i. e.] obstinacy in keeping such an oath,) this heir of mine shall have none who can call her sister; i. e. I will not marry, and so have a chance of other children before she is disposed of.— Obstinacy was anciently called wilfulness. But it is scarce possible that unsister'd should be the true reading; for if Pericles had taken another wife, after his daughter's marriage, could he have been sure of progeny to sister his first child? or what wilfulness would he have shown, had he continued a single man? To persist in wearing a squalid head of hair and beard, was indeed an obstinate peculiarity, though not without a parallel; for both Francis I. and our Henry VIII. reciprocally swore that their beards should grow untouched till their proposed interview had taken place. Steevens.

Note return to page 335 4&lblank; mask'd Neptune,] i. e. insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile: Subdola pellacis ridet clementia ponti. Lucretius. This passage in Pericles appears to have been imitated by Fletcher in Rule a Wife, &c. 1640: “I'll bring you on your way “And then deliver you to the blue Neptune.” Steevens. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; the guiled shore, “To a most dangerous sea.” Malone. Mr. Steevens has quoted the line from Lucretius incorrectly; it should be as follows: Subdola quom ridet placidi pellacia ponti. Lib. ii. v. 559. Boswell.

Note return to page 336 5&lblank; which are now &lblank;] For the insertion of the word now, I am accountable. Malone.

Note return to page 337 6&lblank; I well remember, Even on my yearning time;] The quarto 1619, and the folio 1664, which was probably printed from it, both read eaning. The first quarto reads learning. The editor of the second quarto seems to have corrected many of the faults in the old copy, without any consideration of the original corrupted reading. Malone. Read—yearning time. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; for Falstaff he is dead, “And we must yearn therefore.” To yearn is to feel internal uneasiness. The time of a woman's labour is still called, in low language—her groaning time—her crying out. Mr. Rowe would read—eaning, a term applicable only to sheep when they produce their young. Steevens. Thaisa evidently means to say, that she was put on ship-board just at the time when she expected to be delivered; and as the word yearning does not express that idea, I should suppose it to be wrong. The obvious amendment is to read—“even at my yeaning time;” which differs from it but by a single letter:— Or perhaps we should read—yielding time. So, Pericles says to Thaisa in the last scene: “Look who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; “Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, “For she was yielded there.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 338 7Where you may 'bide until your date expire.] Until you die. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “The date is out of such prolixity.” The expression of the text is again used by our author in The Rape of Lucrece: “An expir'd date, cancell'd, ere well begun.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; and expire the term “Of a despised life.” Malone.

Note return to page 339 8Enter Gower.] This chorus, and the two following scenes, have hitherto been printed as part of the third Act. In the original edition of this play, the whole appears in an unbroken series. The editor of the folio, in 1664, first made the division of Acts and Scenes (which has been since followed,) without much propriety. The poet seems to have intended that each Act should begin with a chorus. On this principle the present division is made. Gower, however, interposing eight times, a chorus is necessarily introduced in the middle of this and three times in the ensuing Act. Malone.

Note return to page 340 9Imagine Pericles, &c.] Mr. Steevens, in his zeal for uniformity of metre, has thus mammocked the first four lines of this chorus: “Imagine Pericles at Tyre, “Welcom'd to his own desire. “His woful queen leave at Ephess, “To Dian there a votaress.” Boswell.

Note return to page 341 1Unto Diana there a votaress.] The old copies read—there's a votaress. I am answerable for the correction. Malone. “His woful queen leave at Ephess, “To Dian there a votaress.” Old copy—we leave at Ephesus; but Ephesus is a rhyme so ill corresponding with votaress, that I suspect our author wrote Ephese or Ephess; as he often contracts his proper names to suit his metre. Thus Pont for Pontus, Mede for Media, Comagene for Comagena, Sicils for Sicilies, &c. Gower, in the story on which this play is founded, has Dionyze for Dionyza, and Tharse for Tharsus. Steevens.

Note return to page 342 2Whom our fast-growing scene must find &lblank;] The same expression occurs in the chorus to The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; your patience this allowing, “I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing, “As you had slept between.” Malone.

Note return to page 343 3In musick, letters;] The old copy reads, I think corruptly, —In musicks letters. The corresponding passage in Gower's Confessio Amantis, confirms the emendation now made: “My doughter Thaise by your leve “I thynke shall with you be leve “As for a tyme: and thus I praie, “That she be kepte by all waie, “And whan she hath of age more “That she be set to bokes lore,” &c. Again: “&lblank; she dwelleth “In Tharse, as the Cronike telleth; “She was well kept, she was well loked, “She was well taught, she was well boked; “So well she sped hir in hir youth, “That she of every wysedome couth &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 344 4Which makes her both the heart and place Of general wonder.] The old copies read: “Which makes high both the art and place,” &c. The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone. “Which makes her both the heart and place “Of general wonder.” Such an education as rendered her the center and situation of general wonder. We still use the heart of oak for the central part of it, and the heart of the land in much such another sense. Shakspeare in Coriolanus says, that one of his ladies is—“the spire and top of praise.” Steevens. So, in Twelfth-Night: “I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the very heart of loss.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “On her bare breast, the heart of all her land.” Place here signifies residence. So, in A Lover's Complaint: “Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place.” In this sense it was that Shakspeare, when he purchased his house at Stratford, called it The New Place. Malone.

Note return to page 345 5&lblank; oft the wrack Of earned praise,] Praise that has been well deserved. The same expression is found in the following lines, which our author has imitated in his Romeo and Juliet: “How durst thou once attempt to touch the honor of his name? “Whose deadly foes do yeld him dew and earned praise.” Tragicall Hystorie of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “If we have unearned luck &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 346 6And in this kind hath our Cleon One daughter, and a wench full grown,] The old copy reads: “And in this kind our Cleon hath “One daughter, and a full grown wench.” The present regulation is Mr. Steevens's. Malone.

Note return to page 347 7Even ripe for marriage fight;] The first quarto reads: “Even right for marriage sight &lblank;.” The quarto 1619, and all the subsequent editions, have— “Even ripe for marriage sight &lblank;.” Sight was clearly misprinted for fight. We had before in this play Cupid's wars. Malone. I would read: “Even ripe for marriage rites.” Percy. Read—fight; i. e. the combats of Venus, or night, which needs no explanation. “Let heroes in the dusty field delight, “Those limbs were fashion'd for a softer fight.” Dryden's Version of Ovid's Epistle from Helen to Paris. Steevens.

Note return to page 348 8Be't when she weav'd the sleided silk &lblank;] The old copies read: “Be it when they weav'd,” &c. But the context shows that she was the author's word. To have praised even the hands of Philoten would have been inconsistent with the general scheme of the present chorus. In all the other members of this sentence we find Marina alone mentioned: “Or when she would, &c. “&lblank; or when to the lute “She sung,” &c. Malone. Sleided silk is untwisted silk, prepared to be used in the weaver's sley or slay. Percy.

Note return to page 349 9With fingers, long, small, white, &c.] So, in Twine's translation: “&lblank; beautified with a white hand, and fingers long and slender.” Steevens.

Note return to page 350 1Or when she would with sharp neeld wound &lblank;] All the copies read—“with sharp needle wound;” but the metre shows that we ought to read neeld. In a subsequent passage, in the first quarto, the word is abbreviated: “&lblank; and with her neele composes &lblank;.” So, in Stanyhurst's Virgil, 1582: “&lblank; on neeld-wrought carpets.” See also vol. xv. p. 353, n. 9. Malone.

Note return to page 351 2&lblank; or when to the lute She sung, and made the night-bird mute, That still records with moan;] The first quarto reads: “&lblank; the night-bed mute, “That still records with moan;” for which in all the subsequent editions we find— “&lblank; and made the night-bed mute, “That still records within one.” There can, I think, be no doubt, that the author wrote—night-bird. Shakspeare has frequent allusions, in his works, to the nightingale. So, in his 101st Sonnet: “As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, “And stops her pipe in growth of riper days, “Not that the summer is less pleasant now “Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,” &c. Again, in his Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day, “As shaming anie eye should thee behold &lblank;.” So, Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv.: “&lblank; These to their nests “Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale; “She all night long her amorous descant sung.” To record anciently signified to sing. So, in Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania, by N. B. [Nicholas Breton] 1606: “Recording songs unto the Deitie &lblank;.” See vol. iv. p. 126, n. 7.—“A bird (I am informed) is said to record, when he sings at first low to himself, before he becomes master of his song and ventures to sing out. The word is in constant use with bird-fanciers at this day.” Malone.

Note return to page 352 3&lblank; with rich and constant pen Vail to her mistress Dian;] To vail is to bow, to do homage. The author seems to mean—‘When she would compose supplicatory hymns to Diana, or verses expressive of her gratitude to Dionyza.’ We might indeed read—Hail to her mistress Dian; i. e. salute her in verse. Steevens. I strongly suspect that vail is a misprint. We might read: “Wail to her mistress Dian.” i. e. compose elegies on the death of her mother, of which she had been apprized by her nurse, Lychorida. That Dian, i. e. Diana, is the true reading, may, I think, be inferred from a passage in The Merchant of Venice; which may at the same time perhaps afford the best comment on that before us: “Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; “With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, “And draw her home with musick.” Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “To be a barren sister all your life, “Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.” Malone.

Note return to page 353 4With absolute Marina:] i. e. highly accomplished, perfect. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; at sea “He is an absolute master.” Again, in Greene's Tu Quoque, 1614: “&lblank; from an absolute and most complete gentleman, to a most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover.” Malone.

Note return to page 354 5Vie feathers white.] See note on The Taming of a Shrew, vol. v. p. 427, n. 4. Steevens. Old copy: “&lblank; so “The dove of Paphos might with the crow “Vie feathers white.” The sense requires a transposition of these words, and that we should read: “&lblank; so “With the dove of Paphos might the crow “Vie feathers white.” M. Mason. I have adopted Mr. M. Mason's judicious arrangement. Steevens.

Note return to page 355 6&lblank; This so darks In Philoten all graceful marks,] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; and their blaze “Shall darken him for ever.” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; You are darken'd in this action, sir, “Even by your own.” Malone.

Note return to page 356 7&lblank; with envy rare,] Envy is frequently used by our ancient writers, in the sense of malice. It is, however, I believe, here used in its common acceptation. Malone.

Note return to page 357 8The pregnant instrument of wrath &lblank;] Pregnant is ready. So, in Hamlet: “And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee &lblank;.” Malone. Pregnant, in this instance, means prepared, instructed. It is used in a kindred sense in Measure for Measure. See vol. ix. p. 8, n. 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 358 9Prest for this blow.] Prest is ready; pret. Fr. So, in The Tragicall History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “I will, God lendyng lyfe, on Wensday next be prest “To wayte on him and you &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 359 1&lblank; The unborn event I do commend to your content:] I am not sure that I understand this passage; but so quaint and licentious is the phraseology of our Pseudo-Gower, that perhaps he means—‘I wish you to find content in that portion of our play which has not yet been exhibited.’ Our author might indeed have written—consent, i. e. cooperation, your assistance in carrying on our present delusion. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 2Only I carry &lblank;] Old copy—carried. Steevens.

Note return to page 361 3&lblank; winged time &lblank;] So, in the Chorus to The Winter's Tale: “I &lblank; “Now take upon me, in the name of time, “To use my wings.” Again, in King Henry V.: “Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies, “In motion of no less celerity “Than that of thought.” Malone.

Note return to page 362 4Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do it:] Here, I think, may be traced the rudiments of the scene in which Lady Macbeth instigates her husband to murder Duncan: “I have given suck, and know “How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me; “I would, while it was smiling in my face, “Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, “And dash'd the brains out, had I but so sworn, “As you have done to this.” Malone.

Note return to page 363 5&lblank; inflame love in thy bosom,] The first quarto reads— “Let not conscience which is but cold, in flaming thy love bosome, enflame too nicelie, nor let pitie,” &c. The subsequent impressions afford no assistance. Some words seem to have been lost. The sentiment originally expressed, probably was this— Let not conscience, which is but a cold monitor, deter you from executing what you have promised; nor let the beauty of Marina enkindle the flame of love in your bosom;—nor be softened by pity, which even I, a woman, have cast off.—I am by no means satisfied with the regulation that I have made, but it affords a glimmering of sense. Nearly the same expression occurred before: “&lblank; That have inflam'd desire in my breast &lblank;.” I suspect, the words “enflame too nicely” were written in the margin, the author not having determined which of the two expressions to adopt; and that by mistake they were transcribed as a part of the text. The metre, which might be more commodiously regulated, if these words were omitted, in some measure supports this conjecture: “Nor let pity, which ev'n women have cast off, “Melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.” Malone. We might read: “&lblank; inflame thy loving bosom:” With Mr. Malone's alteration, however, the words will bear the following sense:—Let not conscience, which in itself is of a cold nature, have power to raise the flame of love in you, raise it even to folly.—Nicely, in ancient language, signifies foolishly. Niais, Fr. Perhaps, indeed, the passage originally stood thus: “&lblank; Let not conscience, “Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom; “Nor let that pity women have cast off, “Melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.” “Inflame too nicely”—and—“which even,” are the words I omit. I add only the pronoun—that. Steevens.

Note return to page 364 6&lblank; but yet she is a goodly creature.] So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; and yet my conscience says “She's a good creature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 365 7&lblank; but yet she is a goodly creature. Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her.] So, in King Richard III.: “O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.— “The fitter for the King of Heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 366 8&lblank; Here Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.] Old copy: “Here she comes weeping for her onely mistresse death.” As Marina had been trained in musick, letters, &c. and had gained all the graces of education, Lychorida could not have been her only mistress. I would therefore read: “Here comes she weeping for her old nurse's death.” Percy. I have no doubt but we should adopt the ingenious amendment suggested by Percy, with this difference only, the leaving out the word for, which is unnecessary, and hurts the metre. I should therefore read: “Here she comes, weeping her old nurse's death.” M. Mason. I have adopted Dr. Percy's amendment, but without Mr. M. Mason's attempt to improve it. The word for is necessary to the metre, as above in the preceding line was a modern interpolation. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 9No, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers:] Thus the quartos. In the folio grave was substituted for green. By the green, as Lord Charlemont suggests to me, was meant “the green turf with which the grave of Lychorida was covered.” So, in Tasso's Godfrey of Bulloigne, translated by Fairfax, 1600: “My ashes cold shall, buried on this green, “Enjoy that good this body ne'er possest.” Weed in old language meant garment. Malone. Before we determine which is the proper reading, let us reflect a moment on the business in which Marina is employed. She is about to strew the grave of her nurse Lychorida with flowers, and therefore makes her entry with propriety, saying— “No, no, I will rob Tellus,” &c. i. e. No, no, it shall never be said that I left the tomb of one to whom I owe so much, without some ornament. Rather than it shall remain undecorated, I will strip the earth of its robe, &c. The prose romance, already quoted, says “that always as she came homeward, she went and washed the tombe of her nouryce, and kept it contynually fayre and clene.” Though I do not recollect that the green hillock under which a person is buried, is any where called their green, my respect for Lord Charlemont's opinion has in this present instance withheld me from deserting the most ancient text, however dubious its authority. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 1Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; with fairest flowers, “While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, “I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack “The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor “The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins, no nor “The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander “Out-sweeten'd not thy breath.” Mr. Steevens would read—Shall as a chaplet, &c. The word hang, it must be owned, favours this correction, but the flowers strew'd on the green-sward, may with more propriety be compared to a carpet than a wreath. Malone. Malone informs us that all the former copies read—“as a carpet,” which was probably the right reading: nor would Steevens have changed it for chaplet, had he attended to the beginning of Marina's speech: “I will rob Tellus of her weed, “To strew thy grave with flowers:” which corresponds with the old reading, not with his amendment. M. Mason. Perhaps Mr. M. Mason's remark also might have been spared, had he considered that no one ever talked of hanging carpets out in honour of the dead. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 2Whirring me from my friends.] Thus the earliest copy; I think rightly. The second quarto, and all the subsequent impressions, read— “Hurrying me from my friends.” Whirring or whirrying, had formerly the same meaning. A bird that flies with a quick motion, accompanied with noise, is still said to whirr away. Thus, Pope: “Now from the brake the whirring pheasant springs.” The verb to whirry is used in the ancient ballad entitled Robin Goodfellow. Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii. 203: “More swift than wind away I go, “O'er hedge and lands, “Thro' pools and ponds, “I whirry, laughing ho ho ho.” Malone. The verb—to whirr, is often used by Chapman in his version of the Iliad. So, book xiv.: “&lblank; gathering dust with whirring fiercely round.” Again, book xvii.: “&lblank; through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt “The whirring chariot &lblank;.” The two last lines uttered by Marina, very strongly resemble a passage in Homer's Iliad, book xix. l. 377: &lblank; &grt;&gro;&grug;&grst; &grd; &gro;&grua;&grk; &gres;&grq;&grea;&grl;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gra;&grst; &grasa;&gre;&grl;&grl;&gra;&gri; &grP;&groa;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grn; &gres;&grp;&grap; &gris;&grx;&grq;&gru;&groa;&gre;&grn;&grt;&gra; &grF;&grI;&grL;&grW;&grN; &grA;&grP;&grA;&grN;&grE;&grU;&grQ;&grE; &grF;&grE;&grR;&grO;&grU;&grS;&grI;&grN;. Steevens.

Note return to page 370 3How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?] Thus the earliest copy. So, in Macbeth: “How now, my lord! why do you keep alone?” The second quarto reads—“why do you weep alone?” Malone.

Note return to page 371 4How chance my daughter is not with you?] So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “How chance thou art not with the prince, thy brother?” Malone. Milton, as Mr. Todd observes, employs a similar form of words in Comus, v. 508: “How chance she is not in your company?” Steevens.

Note return to page 372 5Consume your blood with sorrowing:] So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; blood-consuming sighs.” See also note on Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 454, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 373 6&lblank; you have A nurse of me.] Thus the quarto 1619. The first copy reads: “Have you a nurse of me?” The poet probably wrote: “&lblank; Have you not “A nurse of me?” Malone.

Note return to page 374 7&lblank; your favour's chang'd &lblank;] i. e. countenance, look. So, in Macbeth: “To alter favour ever is to fear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 375 8&lblank; ere the sea mar it. Walk forth with Leonine; the air is quick there,] Some words must, I think, have been omitted. Probably the author wrote: “&lblank; ere the sea mar it, “Walk on the shore with Leonine, the air “Is quick there.” Malone. “&lblank; ere the sea mar it,” &c. i. e. ere the sea mar your walk upon the shore by the coming in of the tide, walk there with Leonine. We see plainly by the circumstance of the pirates, that Marina, when seized upon, was walking on the sea-shore; and Shakspeare was not likely to reflect that there is little or no tide in the Mediterranean. Charlemont. The words—wreath of—were formerly inserted in the text by Mr. Malone. Though he has since discarded, I have ventured to retain them. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 9Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come;] Here the old copy furnishes the following line, which those who think it verse, may replace, in the room of that supplied by the present text:— “And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 377 1With more than foreign heart.] With the same warmth of affection as if I was his countrywoman. Malone.

Note return to page 378 2Our paragon to all reports,] Our fair charge, whose beauty was once equal to all that fame said of it. So, in Othello: “&lblank; He hath achiev'd a maid, “That paragons description and wild fame.” Malone.

Note return to page 379 3&lblank; that we have ta'en No care to your best courses.] Either we should read—“of your best courses,” or the word to has in this place the force that of would have. M. Mason. The plain meaning is—‘that we have paid no attention to what was best for you.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 380 4&lblank; reserve That excellent complexion, which did steal The eyes of young and old.] So, in Shakspeare's 20th Sonnet: “A man in hue all hues in his controlling, “Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth.” Again, in his Lover's Complaint: “Thus did he in the general bosom reign “Of young and old.” To reserve is here, to guard, to preserve carefully. So, in Shakspeare's 32d Sonnet: “Reserve them, for my love, not for their rhymes.” Malone.

Note return to page 381 5Well, I will go; But yet I have no desire to it.] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “I have no mind of feasting forth to-night, “But I will go.” Steevens.

Note return to page 382 6His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;] For the insertion of the words with and of I am answerable. Malone. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “&lblank; the princes did in their countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging the sailors to doe what might be done (putting their hands to every most paineful office) taught them to promise themselves the best,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 383 7&lblank; from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvas-climber.] A ship-boy. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; and in them behold “Upon the hempen-tackle ship-boys climbing.” I suspect that a line, preceding these two, has been lost, which perhaps might have been of this import: “O'er the good ship the foaming billow breaks, “And from the ladder-tackle,” &c. Malone. A canvas-climber is one who climbs the mast, to furl, or unfurl, the canvas or sails. Steevens. Malone suspects that some line preceding these has been lost, but that I believe is not the case, this being merely a continuation of Marina's description of the storm, which was interrupted by Leonine's asking her, “When was that?” and by her answer, “When I was born, never were waves nor wind more violent.” Put this question and the answer in a parenthesis, and the description goes on without difficulty: “&lblank; endur'd a sea “That almost burst the deck, “And from the ladder-tackle washes off,” &c. M. Mason. In consequence of Mr. M. Mason's remark, I have regulated the text anew, and with only the change of a single tense, (wash'd for washes,) and the omission of the useless copulative and. The question of Leonine, and the reply of Marina, which were introduced after the words— “That almost burst the deck,” are just as proper in their present as in their former situation; but do not, as now arranged, interrupt the narrative of Marina. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads thus: “That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle “Wash'd off a canvas-climber. Ha! says one, “Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry, “They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, “The master calls, and trebles their confusion. “Leon. And when was this? “Mar. It was when I was born: “Never was waves nor wind more violent.”

Note return to page 384 9From stem to stern:] The old copies read—“From stern to stern.” But we certainly ought to read—“From stem to stern.” So, Dryden: “Orontes' barque, even in the hero's view, “From stem to stern by waves was overborne.” A hasty transcriber, or negligent compositor, might easily have mistaken the letter m and put rn in its place. Malone.

Note return to page 385 1&lblank; and trebles their confusion.] So, in King Henry V.: “Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give “To sounds confus'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 386 2Leon. Come, say your prayers. Mar. What mean you? Leon. If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious, &c. Mar. Why, will you kill me?] So, in Othello: “Oth. Have you pray'd to night, Desdemona?— “If you bethink yourself of any crime “Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, “Solicit for it straight. “Des. Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that? “Oth. Well, do it, and be brief.— “Des. Talk you of killing,” &c. Steevens. This circumstance is likewise found in the Gesta Romanorum: “Peto domine,” says Tharsia (the Marina of this play) “ut si nulla spes est mihi, permittas me deum testare. Villicus ait, ‘testate; et Deus ipse scit quod coactus te interficio.’ Illa vero cum esset posita in oratione, venerunt pyratæ,” &c. Malone. Thus, in Twine's translation: “I pray thee, since there is no hope for me to escape my life, give me licence to say my prayers before I die. I give thee license, saide the villaine. And I take God to record, that I am constrained to murther thee against my will.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens, without authority, reads: “Come, say your prayers speedily.” Boswell.

Note return to page 387 3I trod upon a worm against my will, But I wept for it.] Fenton has transplanted this image into his Mariamne: “&lblank; when I was a child, “I kill'd a linnet, but indeed I wept; “Heaven visits not for that.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 4Leonine runs away.] So, in Twine's translation: “When the villain heard that, he ran away as fast as he could.—Then came the Pyrats and rescued Tharsia, and carried her away to their ships, and hoised sailes, and departed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 389 5These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;] The Spanish armada, I believe, furnished our author with this name. Don Pedro de Valdes was an Admiral in that fleet, and had the command of the great galleon of Andalusia. His ship being disabled, he was taken by Sir Francis Drake, on the twenty-second of July, 1588, and sent to Dartmouth. This play therefore, we may conclude, was not written till after that period— The making one of this Spaniard's ancestors a pirate, was probably relished by the audience in those days. Malone. In Robert Greene's Spanish Masquerado, 1589, the curious reader may find a very particular account of this Valdes, who was commander of the Andalusian troops, and then prisoner in England. Steevens. We should probably read—These roving thieves.—The idea of roguery is necessarily implied in the word thieves. M. Mason.

Note return to page 390 6&lblank; and with continual action &lblank;] Old copies—and they with, &c. The word they was evidently repeated by the carelessness of the compositor. Malone.

Note return to page 391 7Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.] The sentiments incident to vicious professions suffer little change within a century and a half.—This speech is much the same as that of Mother Cole, in The Minor: “Tip him an old trader! Mercy on us, where do you expect to go when you die, Mr. Loader?” Steevens.

Note return to page 392 8Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards,] There seems to be something wanting. Perhaps—“that will do &lblank;” or some such words. The author, however, might have intended an imperfect sentence. Malone.

Note return to page 393 9Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again.] I have brought up (i. e. educated) says the Bawd, some eleven. Yes, (answers Boult) to eleven (i. e. as far as eleven years of age) and then brought them down again. The latter clause of the sentence requires no explanation. Thus, in The Play of The Wether, by John Heywood, 4to. bl. 1. Mery Report says: “Oft tyme is sene both in court and towne, “Longe be women a bryngynge up, and sone brought downe.” Steevens. The modern copies read—I too eleven. The true reading, which is found in the quarto 1609, was pointed out by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 394 1Thou say'st true; they're too unwholesome o' conscience.] The old copies read—there's two unwholesome o' conscience. The preceding dialogue shows that they are erroneous. The complaint had not been made of two, but of all the stuff they had. According to the present regulation, the pandar merely assents to what his wife had said. The words two and too are perpetually confounded in the old copies. Malone.

Note return to page 395 2Ay, she quickly pooped him;] The following passage in The Devil's Charter, a tragedy, 1607, will sufficiently explain this singular term: “&lblank; foul Amazonian trulls, “Whose lanterns are still lighted in their poops.” Malone. This phrase (whatever be its meaning) occurs in Have With You to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is Up, &c. 1596: “But we shall l'envoy him, and trumpe and poope him well enough &lblank;.” The same word is used by Dryden, in his Wild Gallant: “He's poopt too.” Steevens.

Note return to page 396 3&lblank; the commodity wages not with the danger;] i. e. is not equal to it. Several examples of this expression are given in former notes on our author. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; his taints and honours “Wag'd equal with him.” Steevens. Again, more appositely in Othello: “To wake and wage a danger profitless.” Malone.

Note return to page 397 4&lblank; to keep our door hatched.] The doors or hatches of brothels, in the time of our author, seem to have had some distinguishing mark. So, in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “Set some picks upon your hatch, and, I pray, profess to keep a bawdy-house.” Prefixed to an old pamphlet entitled Holland's Leaguer, 4to. 1632, is a representation of a celebrated brothel on the Bank-side near the Globe playhouse, from which the annexed cut has been made. We have here the hatch exactly delineated. The man with the pole-ax was called the Ruffian. Malone. The precept from Cupid's Whirligig, and the passage in Pericles to which it refers, were originally applied by me to the illustration of the term Pict-hatch in The Merry Wives of Windsor. A hatch is a half-door, usually placed within a street-door, admitting people into the entry of a house, but preventing their access to its lower apartments, or its stair-case. Thus, says the Syracusan Dromio in The Comedy of Errors, to the Dromio of Ephesus: “Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch.” When the top of a hatch was guarded by a row of pointed iron spikes, no person could reach over, and undo its fastening, which was always within-side, and near its bottom. This domestick portcullis perhaps was necessary to our ancient brothels. Secured within such a barrier, Mrs. Overdone could parley with her customers; refuse admittance to the shabby visitor, bargain with the rich gallant, defy the beadle, or keep the constable at bay. From having been therefore her usual defence, the hatch at last became an unequivocal denotement of her trade; for though the hatch with a flat top was a constant attendant on butteries in great families, colleges, &c. the hatch with spikes on it was peculiar to our early houses of amorous entertainment.—Nay, as I am assured by Mr. Walsh, (a native of Ireland, and one of the compositors engaged on the present edition of Shakspeare,) [Mr. Steevens's,] the entries to the Royal, Halifax, and Dublin bagnios in the city of Dublin, still derive convenience or security from hatches, the spikes of which are insurmountable. This long explanation (to many readers unnecessary) is imputable to the preceding wooden cut, from the repetition of which I might have excused myself. As it is possible, however, that I may stand in the predicament of poor Sancho, who could not discern the enchanted castles that were so distinctly visible to his master's opticks, I have left our picture of an ancient brothel where I found it. It certainly exhibits a house, a lofty door, a wicket with a grate in it, a row of garden-rails, and a drawbridge. As for hatch—let my readers try if they can find one. I must suppose, that my ingenious fellow-labourer, on future consideration, will class his hatch with the air-drawn dagger, and join with me in Macbeth's exclamation—“There's no such thing.” Let me add, that if the Ruffian (as here represented) was an ostensible appendage to brothels, they must have been regulated on very uncommon principles; for instead of holding out allurements, they must have exhibited terrors. Surely, the Ruffian could never have appeared nisi dignus vindice nodus inciderat, till his presence became necessary to extort the wages of prostitution, or secure some other advantage to his employer. The representation prefixed to Holland's Leaguer, has, therefore, in my opinion, no more authenticity to boast of, than the contemporary wooden cuts illustrative of the Siege of Troy. Steevens. A hatch is defined by Johnson, a half-door, a door with an opening over it; and such certainly appears in the frontispiece to the old pamphlet. The halfpenny hatch in Southwark, and many other places, which prevents you from going over a private road without payment, is certainly not within a strait door. The subject is not worthy of much further enquiry, or it might be shown, by extracts from Holland's Leaguer, that the wooden cut was designed as a genuine representation. Boswell.

Note return to page 398 5Come, other sorts offend as well as we.] From her husband's answer, I suspect the poet wrote—other trades, &c. Malone. Malone suspects that we should read—“other trades,” but that is unnecessary; the word sorts has the same sense, and means professions or conditions of life. So, Macbeth says: “I have won “Golden opinion of all sorts of people.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 399 6&lblank; I have gone thorough &lblank;] i. e. I have bid a high price for her, gone far in my attempt to purchase her. Steevens.

Note return to page 400 7I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.] This speech should seem to suit the Pirate. However, it may belong to Boult.—I cannot get them to bate me one doit of a thousand pieces. Malone.

Note return to page 401 8&lblank; that she may not be raw in her entertainment.] Unripe, unskilful. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; and yet but raw neither, in respect of his quick sail.” Malone.

Note return to page 402 9&lblank; age,] So the quarto 1619. The first copy has—her age. Malone.

Note return to page 403 1&lblank; and cry, He that will give most, shall have her first.] The prices of first and secondary prostitution are exactly settled in the old prose romance already quoted: “Go thou, and make a crye through the citye that of all men that shall enhabyte with her carnally, the fyrst shall gyve me a pounde of golde, and after that echone a peny of golde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 2&lblank; or that these pirates, (Not enough barbarous,) had not overboard thrown me For to seek my mother!] I suspect the second not was inadvertently repeated by the compositor. Marina, I think, means to say, Alas, how unlucky it was, that Leonine was so slack in his office; or, he having omitted to kill me, how fortunate would it have been for me, if those pirates had thrown me into the sea to seek my mother. However, the original reading may stand, though with some harshness of construction. ‘Alas, how unfortunate it was, that Leonine was so merciful to me, or that these pirates had not thrown me into the sea to seek my mother.’ Malone. We should recur to the old copies, and read: “Not enough barbarous, had not overboard,” &c. Which is clearly right;—for Marina is not expressing what she wished that Leonine and the Pirates had done, but repining at what they had omitted to do. She laments that Leonine had not struck, instead of speaking, and that the Pirates had not thrown her overboard. M. Mason. If the second not was intended by the author, he should rather have written—did not o'er-board throw me, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 405 2You are lit into my hands, where you are like to live.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Be of good cheer; “You have fallen into a princely hand; fear nothing.” Malone.

Note return to page 406 3Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? &lblank; I have drawn her picture with my voice.] So, in The Wife for a Month, [by Fletcher, vol. v. p. 285, edit. 1778,] Evanthe says,— “I'd rather thou had'st deliver'd me to pirates, “Betray'd me to uncurable diseases, “Hung up my picture in a market-place, “And sold me to vile bawds!” And we are told in a note on this passage, [by Mr. Reed] that it was formerly the custom at Naples to hang up the pictures of celebrated courtezans in the publick parts of the town, to serve as directions where they lived. Had not Fletcher the story of Marina in his mind, when he wrote the above lines? M. Mason. The Wife for a Month was one of Fletcher's latest plays. It was exhibited in May, 1624. Malone.

Note return to page 407 4&lblank; a Spaniard's mouth so water'd, that he went, &c.] Thus the quarto 1619. The first copy reads,—“a Spaniard's mouth water'd, and he went,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 408 5&lblank; that cowers i' the hams?] To cower is to sink by bending the hams. So, in King Henry VI.: “The splitting rocks cowr'd in the sinking sands.” Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle: “They cower so o'er the coles, their eies be blear'd with smoke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 409 6&lblank; he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow.] If there were no other proof of Shakspeare's hand in this piece, this admirable stroke of humour would furnish decisive evidence of it. Malone.

Note return to page 410 7&lblank; here he does but repair it.] To repair here means to renovate. So, in Cymbeline: “O, disloyal thing! “That should'st repair my youth &lblank;.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; It much repairs me “To talk of your good father.” Malone.

Note return to page 411 8&lblank; to scatter his crowns in the sun.] There is here perhaps some allusion to the lues venerea, though the words French crowns in their literal acceptation were certainly also in Boult's thoughts. It occurs frequently in our author's plays. So, in Measure for Measure: “Lucio. A French crown more. “Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in me.” Malone. I see no allusion in this passage to the French disease, but merely to French crowns in a literal sense, the common coin of that country. Boult had said before, that he had proclaimed the beauty of Marina, and drawn her picture with his voice. He says, in the next speech, that with such a sign as Marina they should draw every traveller to their house, considering Marina, or rather the picture he had drawn of her, as the sign to distinguish the house, which the Bawd, on account of her beauty, calls the sun: and the meaning of the passage is merely this:—“that the French knight will seek the shade or shelter of their house, to scatter his money there.”—But if we make a slight alteration in this passage, and read “on our shadow,” instead of “in our shadow,” it will then be capable of another interpretation. “On our shadow” may mean ‘on our representation or description of Marina;’ and the sun may mean the real sign of the house. For there is a passage in The Custom of the Country, which gives reason to imagine that the sun was, in former times, the usual sign of a brothel. When Sulpitia asks, “What is become of the Dane?” Jacques replies, “What! goldy-locks! he lies at the sign of the sun to be new-breeched.” M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's note is too ingenious to be omitted; and yet, where humour is forced, (as in the present instance,) it is frequently obscure, and especially when vitiated by the slightest typographical error or omission. All we can with certainty infer from the passage before us is, that an opposition between sun and shadow was designed. Steevens.

Note return to page 412 9&lblank; we should lodge them with this sign.] If a traveller from every part of the globe were to assemble in Mitylene, they would all resort to this house, while we had such a sign to it as this virgin. This, I think, is the meaning. A similar eulogy is pronounced on Imogen in Cymbeline: “She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.” Malone.

Note return to page 413 1&lblank; a mere profit.] i. e. an absolute, a certain profit. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; things rank and gross in nature “Possess it merely.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy.” Malone.

Note return to page 414 2&lblank; for your bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with warrant.] You say true; for even a bride, who has the sanction of the law to warrant her proceeding, will not surrender her person without some constraint. “Which is her way to go with warrant,” means only—‘to which she is entitled to go.’ Malone.

Note return to page 415 3When nature framed this piece, she meant thee a good turn;] A similar sentiment occurs in King Lear: “That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh, “To raise my fortunes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 416 4&lblank; and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.] So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Frame the season for your own harvest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 417 5&lblank; thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels,] Thunder is not supposed to have an effect on fish in general, but on eels only, which are roused by it from the mud, and are therefore more easily taken. So, in Marston's Satires: “They are nought but eeles, that never will appeare, “Till that tempestuous winds, or thunder, teare “Their slimy beds.” L. ii. Sat. vii. v. 204. Whalley.

Note return to page 418 6If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; if knife, drugs, serpents, have “Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe.” Steevens. Again, more appositely, in Othello: “&lblank; If there be cords, or knives, “Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, “I'll not endure it.” Malone.

Note return to page 419 7Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.] We have the same classical allusion in The Tempest: “If thou dost break her virgin-knot,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 420 8&lblank; Can it be undone?] Thus, Lady Macbeth: “&lblank; what's done, is done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 421 9&lblank; to undo the deed.] So, in Macbeth: “Wake Duncan with this knocking:—Ay, would thou could'st!” In Pericles, as in Macbeth, the wife is more criminal than the husband, whose repentance follows immediately on the murder. Thus also, in Twine's translation: “But Strangulio himself consented not to this treason, but so soon as he heard of the foul mischaunce, being as it were all amort, and amazed with heaviness, &c.—and therewithal he looked towardes his wife, saying, Thou wicked woman,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 422 1If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness Becoming well thy feat:] Old copy—face: which, if this reading be genuine, must mean—‘hadst thou poisoned thyself by pledging him, it would have been an action well becoming thee. For the sake of a more obvious meaning, however, I read, with Mr. M. Mason, feat instead of face. Steevens. Feat, i. e. of a piece with the rest of thy exploit. So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Palamon says: “Cozener Arcite, give me language such “As thou hast shewed me feat.” M. Mason. So, in Holinshed, p. 756: “&lblank; aiders and partakers of his feat and enterprize.” Steevens.

Note return to page 423 2&lblank; what canst thou say, When noble Pericles shall demand his child?] So, in the ancient romance already quoted: “&lblank; tell me now what rekenynge we shall gyve hym of his doughter,” &c. Again, in Twine's translation: “Thou reportedst that Prince Appollonius was dead; and loe now where he is come to require his daughter. What shall we now doe or say to him?” Steevens. So also, in the Gesta Romanorum: “Quem [Apollonium] cum vidisset Strangulio, perrexit rabido cursu, dixitque uxori suæ Dyonisidi—Dixisti Apollonium naufragum esse mortuum. Ecce, venit ad repetendam filiam. Ecce, quid dicturi sumus pro filiâ?” Malone.

Note return to page 424 3&lblank; Nurses are not the fates, To foster it, nor ever to preserve.] So King John, on receiving the account of Arthur's death: “We cannot hold mortality's strong hand:— “Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? “Think you I bear the shears of destiny? “Have I commandment on the pulse of life?” Malone.

Note return to page 425 4She died by night;] Old copy—at night. I suppose Dionyza means to say that she died by night; was found dead in the morning. The words are from Gower: “She saith, that Thaisa sodeynly “By night is dead.” Steevens. What is the difference between—at night and by night? Boswell.

Note return to page 426 5&lblank; I'll say so. Who can cross it?] So, in Macbeth: “Macb. —Will it not be receiv'd, “When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two “Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers, “That they have done't? “Lady M. Who dares receive it other, “As we shall make our grief and clamour roar “Upon his death?” Malone.

Note return to page 427 6Unless you play the impious innocent,] The folios and the modern editions have omitted the word impious, which is necessary to the metre, and is found in the first quarto.—She calls him an impious simpleton, because such a discovery would touch the life of one of his own family, his wife. An innocent was formerly a common appellation for an ideot. See Mr. Whalley's note in vol. x. p. 446, n. 6. Malone. Notwithstanding Malone's ingenious explanation, I should wish to read—the pious innocent, instead of impious. M. Mason.

Note return to page 428 7The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence,] Thus the quarto 1609; that of 1619 reads—pretty. Steevens.

Note return to page 429 8&lblank; I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how coward a spirit.] Lady Macbeth urges the same argument to persuade her husband to commit the murder of Duncan, that Dionyza here uses to induce Cleon to conceal that of Marina: “&lblank; art thou afraid “To be the same in thine own act and valour, “As thou art in desire? Would'st thou have that “Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, “And live a coward in thine own esteem? “Letting I dare not wait upon I would, “Like the poor cat i' the adage?” Again, after the murder, she exclaims: “My hands are of your colour, but I shame “To wear a heart so white.” Malone. I read (for the sake of metre)—“of how cow'd a spirit.” So, in Macbeth: “For it hath cow'd my better part of man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 430 9Though not his pre-consent,] The first quarto reads— prince consent. The second quarto, which has been followed by the modern editions, has—whole consent. In the second edition, the editor or printer seems to have corrected what was apparently erroneous in the first, by substituting something that would afford sense, without paying any regard to the corrupted reading, which often leads to the discovery of the true. For the emendation inserted in the text the reader is indebted to Mr. Steevens. A passage in King John bears no very distant resemblance to the present: “&lblank; If thou didst but consent “To this most cruel act, do but despair, “And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread “That ever spider twisted from her womb “Will serve to strangle thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 431 1She did disdain my child,] Thus the old copy, but I think erroneously. Marina was not of a disdainful temper. Her excellence indeed disgraced the meaner qualities of her companion, i. e. in the language of Shakspeare, distained them. Thus, Adriana, in The Comedy of Errors, says—“I live distained;” and, in Tarquin and Lucrece, we meet with the same verb again: “Were Tarquin night (as he is but night's child) “The silver-shining queen he would distain &lblank;.” The verb—to stain is frequently used by our author in the sense of—to disgrace. See vol. xii. p. 287, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 432 2Whilst ours was blurted at,] Thus the quarto 1609. All the subsequent copies have—blurred at. This contemptuous expression frequently occurs in our ancient dramas. So, in King Edward III. 1596: “This day hath set derision on the French, “And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.” Malone. “She did disdain my child, and stood between “Her and her fortunes: None would look on her, “But cast their gazes on Marina's face; “Whilst ours was blurted at.” The usurping Duke, in As You Like It, gives the same reasons for his cruelty to Rosalind: “&lblank; she robs thee of thy name; “And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous, “When she is gone.” The same cause for Dionyza's hatred to Marina, is also alledged in Twine's translation: “The people beholding the beautie and comlinesse of Tharsia said: Happy is the father that hath Tharsia to his daughter; but her companion that goeth with her is foule and evil favoured. When Dionisiades heard Tharsia commended, and her owne daughter Philomacia so dispraised, she returned home wonderful wrath,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 3&lblank; a malkin, Not worth the time of day.] A malkin is a coarse wench. A kitchen-malkin is mentioned in Coriolanus. Not worth the time of day, is, not worth a good day, or good morrow; undeserving the most common and usual salutation. Steevens.

Note return to page 434 4And though you call my course unnatural,] So, in Julius Cæsar: “Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, “To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs.” Malone.

Note return to page 435 5It greets me, as an enterprize of kindness, Perform'd to your sole daughter.] Perhaps it greets me, may mean, it pleases me; c'est a mon gré. If greet be used in its ordinary sense of saluting or meeting with congratulation, it is surely a very harsh phrase. There is, however, a passage in King Henry VIII. which seems to support the reading of the text in its ordinary signification: “&lblank; Would I had no being, “If this salute my blood a jot.” Malone.

Note return to page 436 6Thou art, &c.] There is an aukwardness of construction in this passage, that leads me to think it corrupt. The sense designed seems to have been—‘Thou resemblest in thy conduct the harpy, which allures with the face of an angel, that it may seize with the talons of an eagle.’.—Might we read: “Thou art like the harpy, “Which, to betray, dost wear thine angel's face; “Seize with thine eagle's talons.” Which is here, as in many other places, for who. In King Henry VIII. we meet with a similar allusion: “Ye have angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!” Again, in King John: “Rash, inconsiderate, firy voluntaries, “With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens.” Malone. I have adopted part of Mr. Malone's emendation, changing only a syllable or two, that the passage might at least present some meaning to the reader. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “&lblank; doth wear an angel's face, “Seize with an eagle's talons.” I see no difficulty in the old copy. “&lblank; with thine angel's face,” &c. means, ‘you having an angel's face, a look of innocence, have at the same time an eagle's talons.’ Boswell.

Note return to page 437 7Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies:] You resemble him who is angry with heaven, because it does not control the common course of nature. Marina, like the flies in winter, was fated to perish: yet you lament and wonder at her death, as an extraordinary occurrence. Malone. I doubt whether Malone's explanation be right; the words, swear to the gods, can hardly imply, to be angry with heaven, though to swear at the gods might: But if this conjecture be right, we must read superciliously, instead of superstitiously; for to arraign the conduct of heaven is the very reverse of superstition. Perhaps the meaning may be—“You are one of those who superstitiously appeal to the gods on every trifling and natural event.” But whatever may be the meaning, swear to the gods, is a very aukward expression. A passage somewhat similar occurs in The Fair Maid of the Inn, where Alberto says: “Here we study “The kitchen arts, to sharpen appetite, “Dull'd with abundance; and dispute with heaven, “If that the least puff of the rough north wind “Blast our vine's burdens.” M. Mason. It means, I think, ‘you are so affectedly humane, that you would appeal to heaven against the cruelty of winter, in killing the flies.” Superstitious is explained by Johnson—scrupulous beyond need. Boswell.

Note return to page 438 8Sail seas in cockles,] We are told by Reginald Scott, in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584, that “it was believed that witches could sail in an egg shell, a cockle, or muscle shell, through and under tempestuous seas.”—This popular idea was probably in our author's thoughts. Malone. See vol. xi. p. 31, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 439 9Making, (to take your imagination,) From bourn to bourn,] Making, if that be the true reading, must be understood to mean—proceeding in our course, from bourn to bourn, &c—It is still said at sea—the ship makes much way. I suspect, however, that the passage is corrupt. All the copies have—our imagination, which is clearly wrong. Perhaps the author wrote—to task your imagination. Malone. “Making (to take your imagination,) “From bourn to bourn,” &c. Making is most certainly the true reading. So, in p. 112: “O make for Tharsus.” Making, &c. is travelling (with the hope of engaging your attention) from one division or boundary of the world to another; i. e. we hope to interest you by the variety of our scene, and the different countries through which we pursue our story.—We still use a phrase exactly corresponding with—take your imagination; i. e. “To take one's fancy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 440 1&lblank; who stand i' the gaps to teach you The stages of our story, &c.] So, in the Chorus to The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; I slide “O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untry'd “Of that wide gap.” The earliest quarto reads—with gaps; that in 1619—in gaps. The reading that I have substituted, is nearer that of the old copy. Malone. “To learn of me who stand with gaps &lblank;” I should rather read—i' the gaps. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “That I may sleep out this great gap of time “My Antony's away.” I would likewise transpose and correct the following lines thus: “&lblank; I do beseech ye “To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you “The stages of our story. Pericles “Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, “Attended on by many a lord and knight, “To see his daughter, all his life's delight, “Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late “Advanc'd in time to great and high estate, “Is left to govern. Bear it in your mind, “Old Helicanus goes along behind. “Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought “This king to Tharsus: think his pilot thought? “So, with his steerage, shall your thoughts go on, “To fetch,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 441 2&lblank; thwarting the wayward seas,] So in King Henry V: “&lblank; and there being seen, “Heave him away upon your winged thoughts, “Athwart the seas.” The wayward, &c. is the reading of the second quarto. The first has—thy. In the next line but one, the old copies read— all his lives delight. Malone.

Note return to page 442 3Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late, &c.] In the old copies these lines are strangely misplaced: “Old Helicanus goes along behind “Is left to governe it, you beare in mind. “Old Escanes whom Helicanus late “Advancde in time to great and hie estate. “Well sailing ships and bounteous winds have broght “This king to Tharsus,” &c. The transposition suggested by Mr. Steevens, renders the whole passage perfectly clear. Malone.

Note return to page 443 4&lblank; (think his pilot thought; So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,) To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.] The old copies read: “&lblank; think this pilot thought, “So with his steerage shall your thoughts groan, &c. but they are surely corrupt. I read—think his pilot thought; suppose that your imagination is his pilot. So, in King Henry V: “&lblank; 'Tis your thoughts, that now must deck our kings, “Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times.” Again, ibidem: “Heave him away upon your winged thoughts “Athwart the seas.” In the next line the versification is defective by one word being printed instead of two. By reading grow on instead of groan, the sense and metre are both restored. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream (fol. 1623:) “&lblank; and so grow on to a point.” See vol. v. p. 192. We might read—go on; but the other appears to be more likely to have been the author's word. Malone. I cannot approve of Malone's amendment, but adhere to the old copies, with this difference only, that I join the words thought and pilot with a hyphen, and read: “&lblank; think this pilot-thought; &lblank;.” That is, “Keep this leading circumstance in your mind, which will serve as a pilot to you, and guide you through the rest of the story, in such a manner, that your imagination will keep pace with the king's progress.” M. Mason. The plainer meaning seems to be—“Think that his pilot had the celerity of thought, so shall your thought keep pace with his operations. Steevens. “&lblank; who first is gone.” Who has left Tharsus before her father's arrival there. Malone.

Note return to page 444 5Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;] So, in Macbeth: “Come like shadows, so depart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 445 6&lblank; for true old woe;] So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; Sit and see, “Minding true things by what their mockeries be.” Malone. “&lblank; for true old woe;” i. e. for such tears as were shed when, the world being in its infancy, dissimulation was unknown. All poetical writers are willing to persuade themselves that sincerity expired with the first ages. Perhaps, however, we ought to read— true told woe. Steevens.

Note return to page 446 7A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,] So, in King Richard III.: “O, then began the tempest to my soul!” What is here called his mortal vessel, (i. e. his body,) is styled by Cleopatra her mortal house. Steevens.

Note return to page 447 8&lblank; Now please you wit &lblank;] Now, be pleased to know. So, in Gower: “In which the lorde hath to him writte “That he would understonde and witte &lblank;.” The editor of the second quarto (which has been copied by all the other editions) probably not understanding the passage, altered it thus: “&lblank; Now take we our way “To the epitaph for Marina writ by Dionysia.” Malone.

Note return to page 448 9&lblank; sweet'st, and best,] Sweetest is here used as a monosyllable. So highest in The Tempest: “Highest queen of state.” &c. Malone. We might more elegantly read, omitting the conjunction— and,— “The fairest, sweetest, best, lies here &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 449 1Marina was she call'd &c.] It might have been expected that this epitaph, which sets out in four-foot verse, would have confined itself to that measure; but instead of preserving such uniformity, throughout the last six lines it deviates into heroicks, which, perhaps, were never meant by its author. Let us remove a few syllables, and try whether any thing is lost by their omission: “Marina call'd; and at her birth “Proud Thetis swallow'd part o' the earth: “The earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd, “Hath Thetis' birth on heaven bestow'd: “Wherefore she swears she'll never stint “Make battery upon shores of flint.” The image suggested by—“Thetis swallowed” &c. reminds us of Brabantio's speech to the senate, in the first Act of Othello: “&lblank; my particular grief “Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature, “That it engluts and swallows other sorrows.” Steevens.

Note return to page 450 2Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:] The modern editions, by a strange blunder, read—That is, being proud, &c. I formerly thought that by the words—“some part of the earth” was meant Thaisa, the mother of Marina. So Romeo calls his beloved Juliet, when he supposes her dead, “the dearest morsel of the earth.” But I am now convinced that I was mistaken. Our poet has many allusions in his works to the depredations made by the sea on the land. So, in his 64th Sonnet: “When I have seen the hungry ocean gain “Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, “And the firm soil win of the watry main, “Increasing store with loss, and loss with store &lblank;.” &c. We have, I think, a similar description in King Lear and King Henry IV. Part II. Malone. The inscription alludes to the violent storm which accompanied the birth of Marina, at which time the sea, proudly o'erswelling its bounds, swallowed, as is usual in such hurricanes, some part of the earth. The poet ascribes the swelling of the sea to the pride which Thetis felt at the birth of Marina in her element; and supposes that the earth, being afraid to be overflowed, bestowed this birth-child of Thetis on the heavens; and that Thetis, in revenge, makes raging battery against the shores. The line, “Therefore the earth fearing to be o'erflow'd,” proves beyond doubt that the words “some part of the earth,” in the line preceding, cannot mean the body of Thaisa, but a portion of the continent.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 451 3&lblank; (and swears she'll never stint,)] She'll never cease. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “It stinted, and said, ay.” Malone.

Note return to page 452 4&lblank; while our scene must play &lblank;] The old copies have— “&lblank; while our steare must play.” For the emendation I am responsible. So, in As You Like It: “This wide and universal theatre, “Presents more woful pageants than the scene “Wherein we play in.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; as if “The scene you play, were mine.” It should be remembered, that scene was formerly spelt sceane; so there is only a change of two letters, which in the writing of the early part of the last century were easily confounded. Malone. I read—scenes display. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; and display'd the effects “Of disposition gentle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 453 5&lblank; Priapus,] The present mention of this deity was perhaps suggested by the following passage in Twine's translation: “Then the bawde brought her into a certaine chappell where stoode the idoll of Priapus made of gold,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 454 6&lblank; Here comes the lord Lysimachus, disguised.] So, in the ancient prose romance already quoted: “&lblank; Than anone as Anthygoras prynce of the cyte it wyste, went and he disguysed himself, and went to the bordell whereas Tarcye was,” &c. Steevens. So also, in the Gesta Romanorum: “Cum lenone antecedente et tuba, tertia die cum symphonia ducitur [Tharsia] ad lupanar. Sed Athenagoras princeps primus ingreditur velato corpore. Tharsia autem videns eum projecit se ad pedes ejus, et ait,” &c. No mention is made in the Confessio Amantis of this interview between Athenagoras (the Lysimachus of our play) and the daughter of Appollinus. So that Shakspeare must have taken this circumstance either from King Appolyn of Thyre, or some other translation of the Gesta Romanorum. Malone. The same circumstances are also found in Twine's translation. Steevens.

Note return to page 455 7How now? How a dozen of virginities?] For what price may a dozen of virginities be had? So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “How a score of ewes now?” Malone.

Note return to page 456 8Now, the gods to-bless your honour!] This use of to in composition with verbs (as Mr. Tyrwhitt remarks) is very common in Gower and Chaucer. See vol. viii. p. 164, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 457 9&lblank; wholesome iniquity?] Thus the quarto 1609. The second quarto, and the modern editions, read—impunity. Malone.

Note return to page 458 1That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives a good report to a number to be chaste.] This is the reading of the quarto 1619. The first quarto has—That dignities, &c. Perhaps the poet wrote—That dignity is the renown, &c. The word number is, I believe, a misprint; but I know not how to rectify it. Malone. The intended meaning of the passage should seem to be this: “The mask of modesty is no less successfully worn by procuresses than by wantons. It palliates grossness of profession in the former, while it exempts a multitude of the latter from suspicion of being what they are. 'Tis politick for each to assume the appearance of this quality, though neither of them in reality possess it.” —I join with Mr. Malone, however, in supposing this sentence to be corrupt. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 2&lblank; without any more virginal fencing,] This uncommon adjective occurs again in Coriolanus: “&lblank; the virginal palms of your daughters &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 460 3My lord, she's not paced yet;] She has not yet learned her paces. Malone.

Note return to page 461 4Come, we will leave his honour and her together.] The first quarto adds—“Go thy ways.” These words, which denote both authority and impatience, I think, belong to Lysimachus. He had before expressed his desire to be left alone with Marina: “&lblank; Well, there's for you;—leave us.” Malone. These words may signify only—“Go back again;” and might have been addressed by the Bawd to Marina, who had offered to quit the room with her. Steevens.

Note return to page 462 5What I cannot name but I shall offend.] The old copies read: “Why I cannot name,” &c. Malone. I read—What I cannot, &c. So, in Measure for Measure: “What but to speak of would offend again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 463 6Were you a gamester at five, or at seven?] A gamester was formerly used to signify a wanton. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “She's impudent, my lord, “And was a common gamester to the camp.” Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; sluttish spoils of opportunity “And daughters of the game.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 7&lblank; and so stand aloof &lblank;] Old copies—aloft. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 465 8If you were born to honour, show it now;] In the Gesta Romanorum, Tharsia (the Marina of the present play) preserves her chastity by the recital of her story: “Miserere me propter Deum et per Deum te adjuro, ne me violes. Resiste libidini tuæ, et audi casus infelicitatis meæ, et unde sim diligenter considera. Cui cum universos casus suos exposuisset, princeps confusus et pietate plenus, ait ei,—‘Habeo et ego filiam tibi similem, de qua similes casus metuo.’ Hæc dicens, dedit ei viginti aureos, dicens, ecce habes amplius pro virginitate quam impositus est. Dic advenientibus sicut mihi dixisti, et liberaberis.” The affecting circumstance which is here said to have struck the mind of Athenagoras, (the danger to which his own daughter was liable,) was probably omitted in the translation. It hardly, otherwise, would have escaped our author. Malone. It is preserved in Twine's translation, as follows: “Be of good cheere, Tharsia, for surely I rue thy case; and I myselfe have also a daughter at home, to whome I doubt that the like chances may befall,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 466 9&lblank; Some more;—be sage.] Lysimachus says this with a sneer.—‘Proceed with your fine moral discourse.’ Malone.

Note return to page 467 1Perséver still in that clear way thou goest,] Continue in your present virtuous disposition. So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, 1634: “&lblank; For the sake “Of clear virginity, be advocate “For us and our distresses.” Malone. See vol. xiii. p. 327, n. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 468 2&lblank; a piece of virtue,] This expression occurs in The Tempest: “&lblank; thy mother was “A piece of virtue &lblank;.” Steevens. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Let not the piece of virtue, which is set “Betwixt us &lblank;.” Octavia is the person alluded to. Malone.

Note return to page 469 3&lblank; under the cope,] i. e. under the cope or covering of heaven. The word is thus used in Cymbeline. In Coriolanus we have “under the canopy;” with the same meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 4She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods.] So, in Measure for Measure, the Duke says to the Bawd: “Canst thou believe thy living is a life, “So stinkingly depending? “Clown. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 471 5&lblank; crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable.] So, in The Gesta Romanorum: “Altera die, adhuc eam virginem audiens, iratus [leno] vocans villicum puellarum, dixit, duc eam ad te, et frange nodum virginitatis ejus.” Malone. Here is perhaps some allusion to a fact recorded by Dion Cassius and by Pliny, b. xxxvi. ch. xxvi. but more circumstantially by Petronius. See his Satyricon, Variorum edit. p. 189. A skilful workman who had discovered the art of making glass malleable, carried a specimen of it to Tiberius, who asked him if he alone was in possession of the secret. He replied in the affirmative; on which the tyrant ordered his head to be struck off immediately, lest his invention should have proved injurious to the workers in gold, silver, and other metals. The same story, however, is told in the Gesta Romanorum, chap. 44. Steevens.

Note return to page 472 6&lblank; she shall be ploughed.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed, “He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 473 7&lblank; my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays!] Anciently many dishes were served up with this garniture, during the season of Christmas. The Bawd means to call her a piece of ostentatious virtue. Steevens.

Note return to page 474 8Mar. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first. Boult. Come now, your one thing.] So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? “Poins. Go to, I stand the push of your one thing.” Malone.

Note return to page 475 9Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art,] The word yet was inserted by Mr. Rowe for the sake of the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 476 1&lblank; to every coystrel That hither comes enquiring for his tib;] To every mean or drunken fellow that comes to enquire for a girl. Coysterel is properly a wine-vessel. Tib is, I think, a contraction of Tabitha. It was formerly a cant name for a strumpet. See vol. x. p. 370, n. 3. Malone. Tib was a common nick-name for a wanton. So, in Nosce te, (Humours) by Richard Turner, 1607: “They wondred much at Tom, but at Tib more, “Faith (quoth the vicker) 'tis an exlent whore.” Again, in Churchyard's Choise: “Tushe, that's a toye, let Tomkin talke of Tibb.” Coystrel means a paltry fellow. This word seems to be corrupted from kestrel, a bastard kind of hawk. It occurs in Shakspeare's Twelfth-Night, vol. xi. p. 350, n. 1. Spenser, Bacon, and Dryden, also mention the kestrel; and Kastril, Ben Jonson's angry boy in The Alchemist, is only a variation of the same term. The word coystrel, in short, was employed to characterise any worthless or ridiculous being. Steevens.

Note return to page 477 2As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.] Marina who is designed for a character of juvenile innocence, appears much too knowing in the impurities of a brothel; nor are her expressions more chastised than her ideas. Steevens.

Note return to page 478 3Any of these ways are better yet than this:] The old copies read: “Any of these ways are yet better than this.” For this slight transposition I am accountable. Malone.

Note return to page 479 4For that which thou professest, a baboon, Could he but speak, would own a name too dear.] That is, a baboon would think his tribe dishonoured by such a profession. Iago says, “Ere I would drown myself, &c. I would change my humanity with a baboon.” Marina's wish for deliverance from her shameful situation, has been already expressed in almost the same words: “&lblank; O that the good gods “Would set me free from this unhallow'd place!” In this speech I have made some trifling regulations. Steevens. Mr. Steevens thus regulates these lines: “For that which thou professest, a baboon, “Could he but speak, would own a name too dear. “O that the gods would safely from this place “Deliver me! Here, here is gold for thee.” Boswell.

Note return to page 480 5I doubt not but this populous city will Yield many scholars.] The scheme by which Marina effects her release from the brothel, the poet adopted from the Confessio Amantis. Malone. All this is likewise found in Twine's translation. Steevens.

Note return to page 481 6And prostitute me to the basest groom &lblank;] So, in King Henry V.: “Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door, “Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, “His fairest daughter is contaminate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 482 7&lblank; but I shall find them tractable enough.] So, in Twine's translation: “&lblank; he brake with the bawd his master touching that matter, who, hearing of her skill, and hoping for the gaine, was easily persuaded.” Steevens.

Note return to page 483 8&lblank; and she dances As goddess-like to her admired lays:] This compound epithet (which is not common) is again used by our author in Cymbeline: “&lblank; and undergoes, “More goddess-like than wife-life, such assaults “As would take in some virtue.” Malone. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; most goddess-like prank'd up.” Steevens.

Note return to page 484 9Deep clerks she dumbs;] This uncommon verb is also found in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; that what I would have spoke “Was beastly dumb'd by him.” Steevens. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Where I have come, great clerks have purposed “To greet me with premeditated welcomes; “Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, “Make periods in the midst of sentences, “Throttle their practis'd accents in their fears, “And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, “Not paying me a welcome.” These passages are compared only on account of the similarity of expression, the sentiments being very different. Theseus confounds those who address him, by his superior dignity; Marina silences the learned persons with whom she converses, by her literary superiority. Malone.

Note return to page 485 1&lblank; and with her neeld composes &lblank;] Neeld for needle. So, in the translation of Lucan's Pharsalia, by Sir A. Gorges, 1614: “&lblank; Like pricking neelds, or points of swords.” Malone.

Note return to page 486 2That even her art sisters the natural roses;] I have not met with this word in any other writer. It is again used by our author in A Lover's Complaint, 1609: “From off a hill, whose concave womb reworded “A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale &lblank;.” Malone. It is found again in this play, in the old copy. See p. 126, n. 3: “Unsister'd shall this heir of mine remain.” Boswell.

Note return to page 487 3Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry:] Inkle is a species of tape. It is mentioned in Love's Labour's Lost, and in The Winter's Tale. All the copies read, I think, corruptly,— twine with the rubied cherry. The word which I have substituted is used by Shakspeare in Othello: “Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth &lblank;.” Again, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; who twin as it were in love.” Malone. Again, more appositely, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher: “Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall “Upon thy tasteful lips.” Inkle, however, as I am informed, anciently signified a particular kind of crewel or worsted with which ladies worked flowers, &c. It will not easily be discovered how Marina could work such resemblances of nature with tape. Steevens.

Note return to page 488 4&lblank; Here we her place;] So, the first quarto. The other copies read,—Leave we her place. Malone.

Note return to page 489 5Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost;] The first quarto reads—“We there him lest.” The editor of that in 1619, finding the passage corrupt, altered it entirely. He reads: “Where we left him at sea, tumbled and tost &lblank;.” The corresponding rhyme, coast, shows that lest, in the first edition, was only a misprint for lost. Malone.

Note return to page 490 6&lblank; The city striv'd God Neptune's annual feast to keep:] The citizens vied with each other in celebrating the feast of Neptune. This harsh expression was forced upon the author by the rhyme. Malone. I suspect that the author wrote: “&lblank; The city's hiv'd “Good Neptune's annual feast to keep &lblank;.” i. e. the citizens, on the present occasion, are collected like bees in a hive. Shakspeare has the same verb in The Merchant of Venice:—“Drones hive not with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 491 7And to him in his barge with fervour hies. ] This is one of the few passages in this play, in which the error of the first copy is corrected in the second. The eldest quarto reads unintelligibly —“with former hies.” Malone.

Note return to page 492 8In your supposing once more put your sight; Of heavy Pericles think this the bark:] Once more put your sight under the guidance of your imagination. Suppose you see what we cannot exhibit to you; think this stage, on which I stand, the bark of the melancholy Pericles. So, before: “In your imagination hold “This stage, the ship, upon whose deck “The sea-toss'd Pericles appears to speak.” Again, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; Behold “In the quick forge and working-house of thought.” Again, ibidem: “&lblank; your eyes advance “After your thoughts.” Again, ibidem: “Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege.” Again, ibidem: “Play with your fancies, and in them behold “Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing,” &c. Again, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; all will come to nought; “When such bad dealing must be seen in thought.” The quarto 1609 reads: “Of heavy Pericles think this his bark:” and such also is the reading of the copy printed in 1619. The folio reads—“On heavy Pericles,” &c. If this be right, the passage should be regulated differently: “And to him in his barge with fervour hies, “In your supposing.—Once more put your sight “On heavy Pericles;” &c. ‘You must now aid me with your imagination, and suppose Lysimachus hastening in his barge to go on board the Tyrian ship. Once more behold the melancholy Pericles,’ &c. But the former is, in my opinion, the true reading. To exhort the audience merely to behold Pericles, was very unnecessary; as in the ensuing scene he would of course be represented to them. Gower's principal office in these chorusses is, to persuade the spectators, not to use, but to disbelieve, their eyes. Malone.

Note return to page 493 9Where, what is done in action, more, if might,] Where all that may be displayed in action, shall be exhibited; and more should be shown, if our stage would permit. The poet seems to be aware of the difficulty of representing the ensuing scene. “More, if might,”—is the reading of the first quarto. The modern copies read, unintelligibly,—“more of might.” Malone. More of might, i. e. of more might, (were there authority for such a reading) should seem to mean—of greater consequence. ‘Such things we shall exhibit. As to the rest, let your imaginations dictate to your eyes.’ We should, otherwise, read: “Where, of what's done in action, more, if might, “Should be discover'd &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 494 1&lblank; greet them fairly.] Thus the folio. The quarto 1609 has—“greet him fairly.” Malone.

Note return to page 495 2But to prorogue his grief.] To lengthen or prolong his grief. The modern editions read, unnecessarily: “But to prolong his grief.” Prorogued is used by our author in Romeo and Juliet for delayed: “My life were better ended by their hate, “Than death prorogued wanting of thy love.” Malone.

Note return to page 496 3Sir, it would be, &c.] For the insertion of the supplemental word [Sir] here and in the next speech but one, as well as in the first address of Helicanus to Lysimachus, I am accountable. Malone.

Note return to page 497 4Pericles discovered.] Few of the stage-directions that have been given in this and the preceding Acts, are found in the old copy. In the original representation of this play, Pericles was probably placed in the back part of the stage, concealed by a curtain, which was here drawn open. The ancient narratives represent him as remaining in the cabin of his his ship. Thus, in The Confessio Amantis, it is said: “But for all that though hem be lothe, “He [Athenagoras, the governor of Mitylene,] fonde the ladder and downe he goeth “And to him spake &lblank;.” So also, in King Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “&lblank; he is here benethe in tenebres and obscurete, and for nothinge that I may doe he wyll not yssue out of the place where he is.”—But as in such a situation Pericles would not be visible to the audience, a different stage-direction is now given. Malone.

Note return to page 498 5Till the disaster, that, one mortal night, Drove him to this.] The copies all read—“one mortal wight.” The word which I suppose the author to have written, affords an easy sense. Mortal is here used for pernicious, destructive. So, in Macbeth: “Hold fast the mortal sword.” Malone.

Note return to page 499 6Sir, we have a maid, &c.] This circumstance resembles another in All's Well That Ends Well, where Lafeu gives an account of Helena's attractions to the King, before she is introduced to attempt his cure. Steevens.

Note return to page 500 7And make a battery through his deafen'd parts, Which now are midway stopp'd:] The earliest quarto reads —defend parts. I have no doubt that the poet wrote—“through his deafen'd parts,”—i. e. ears, which were to be assailed by the melodious voice of Marina. In the old quarto few of the participles have an elision-mark. This kind of phraseology, though it now appears uncouth, was common in our author's time. Thus, in the poem entitled Romeus and Juliet: “Did not thy parts, fordon with pain, languish away and pine?” Again, more appositely, ibidem: “Her dainty tender parts 'gan shiver all for dread; “Her golden hair did stand upright upon her chillish head?” Again, in our poet's Venus and Adonis: “Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would move “Each part in me that were but sensible.” Again, in his 69th Sonnet: “Those parts of thee, that the world's eye doth view,” &c. Stopp'd is a word which we frequently find connected with the ear. So, in King Richard II.: “Gaunt. My death's sad tale may not undeaf his ear. “York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds.” Malone. Mr. Malone's explanation is fully supported by a line in Antony and Cleopatra: “Make battery to our ears with the loud musick.” Holt White. Perhaps we should read— “&lblank; his deafen'd ports.” Thus, in Timon: “Descend, and open your uncharged ports.” i. e. gates. Deafen'd ports would mean the oppilated doors of hearing. In King Henry IV. Part II. we have “the gates of breath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 501 8And, with her fellow-maids, is now upon The leafy shelter &lblank;] Marina might be said to be under the leafy shelter, but I know not how she could be upon it; nor have I a clear idea of a shelter abutting against the side of an island. I would read: “&lblank; is now upon “The leafy shelver, that abuts against “The island's side.” i. e. the shelving bank near the sea-side, shaded by adjoining trees. It appears from Gower, that the feast of Neptune was celebrated on the strand: “The lordes both and the commune “The high festes of Neptune “Upon the stronde, at rivage, “As it was custome and usage, “Solempneliche thei be sigh.” So, before in this scene: “Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs &lblank;.” Marina and her fellow-maids, we may suppose, had retired a little way from the crowd, and seated themselves under the adjoining trees, to see the triumph. This circumstance was an invention of the poet's. In King Appolyn of Thyre, Tharsye, the Marina of this play, is brought from the bordel where she had been placed. In the Confessio Amantis, she is summoned, by order of the governor, from the honest house to which she had retreated.—The words with and is, which I have inserted, are not in the old copy. Malone. If any alteration be thought necessary, I would read: “And is now about the leafy shelter,” instead of upon. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's alteration cannot be admitted, as the words about and abut would be so near each other as to occasion the most barbarous dissonance.—I have at least printed the passage so as to afford it smoothness, and some apparent meaning. Steevens. Mr. Steevens prints the passage thus: “She, all as happy as of all the fairest, “Is, with her fellow maidens, now within,” &c. “Upon a leafy shelter” is ‘upon a spot which is sheltered.’ Boswell.

Note return to page 502 9Exit Lord, in the Barge of Lysimachus.] It may seem strange that a fable should have been chosen to form a drama upon, in which the greater part of the business of the last Act should be transacted at sea; and wherein it should even be necessary to produce two vessels on the scene at the same time. But the customs and exhibitions of the modern stage give this objection to the play before us a greater weight than it really has. It appears, that, when Pericles was originally performed, the theatres were furnished with no such apparatus as by any stretch of the imagination could be supposed to present either a sea, or a ship; and that the audience were contented to behold vessels sailing in and out of port, in their mind's eye only. This licence being once granted to the poet, the lord, in the instance now before us, walked off the stage, and returned again in a few minutes, leading in Marina, without any sensible impropriety; and the present drama, exhibited before such indulgent spectators, was not more incommodious in the representation than any other would have been. See The Historical Account of the English Stage, vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 503 1And so inflict our province.] Thus all the copies. But I do not believe to inflict was ever used by itself in the sense of to punish. The poet probably wrote—“And so afflict our province.” Malone.

Note return to page 504 2Sit, sir,] Thus the eldest quarto. The modern editions read—Sir, sir. Malone.

Note return to page 505 3Is't not a goodly presence?] Is she not beautiful in her form? So, in King John: “Lord of thy presence, and no land beside.” All the copies read, I think corruptedly,— “Is it not a goodly present?” Malone. Mr. Malone's emendation is undoubtedly judicious. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns.” Steevens.

Note return to page 506 4Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty Expect even here, where is a kingly patient:] The quarto 1609 reads: “Fair on, all goodness that consists in beauty,” &c. The editor of the second quarto in 1619, finding this unintelligible, altered the text, and printed—“Fair and all goodness,” &c. which renders the passage nonsense.—One was formerly written on; and hence they are perpetually confounded in our ancient dramas. See vol. xv. p. 291, n. 6. The latter part of the line, which was corrupt in all the copies, has been happily amended by Mr. Steevens. Malone. I should think, that instead of beauty we ought to read—bounty. All the good that consists in beauty she brought with her. But she had reason to expect the bounty of her kingly patient, if she proved successful in his cure. Indeed Lysimachus tells her so afterwards in clearer language. The present circumstance puts us in mind of what passes between Helena and the King, in All's Well That Ends Well. Steevens.

Note return to page 507 5If that thy prosperous and artificial feat, &c.] “Veni ad me, Tharsia;” (says Athenagoras) “ubi nunc ars studiorum tuorum ut consoleris dominum navis in tenebris sedentem; ut provoces eum exire ad lucem, quia nimis dolet pro conjuge et filia suâ?”—Gesta Romanorum, p. 586, edit. 1558. The old copy has—artificial fate. For this emendation the reader is indebted to Dr. Percy. Feat and fate are at this day pronounced in Warwickshire alike; and such, I have no doubt, was the pronunciation in the time of Queen Elizabeth. Hence the two words were easily confounded. A passage in Measure for Measure may add support to Dr. Percy's very happy emendation: “&lblank; In her youth “There is a prone and speechless dialect, “Such as moves men; besides, she hath a prosperous art “When she will play with reason and discourse, “And well she can persuade.” Malone. Percy reads feat, instead of fate, which may possibly be the right reading: but in that case we ought to go further, and strike out the word and: “If that thy prosperous, artificial feat.” The amendment I should propose is to read— “If that thy prosperous artifice and fate.” M. Mason. I read prosperous-artificial. Our author has many compound epithets of the same kind; for instance—“dismal-fatal, mortal-staring, childish-foolish, senseless-obstinate,” &c. in all of which the first adjective is adverbially used. See vol. xi. p. 183, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 6Marina sings.] This song (like most of those that were sung in the old plays) has not been preserved. Perhaps it might have been formed on the following lines in the Gesta Romanorum, (or some translation of it,) which Tharsia is there said to have sung to King Apollonius: Per scorta [f. heu!] gradior, sed scorti conscia non sum; Sic spinis rosa [f. quæ] nescit violarier ullis. Corruit et [f. en] raptor gladii ferientis ab ictu; Tradita lenoni non sum violata pudore. Vulnera cessassent animi, lacrimæque deessent, Nulla ergo melior, si noscam certa parentes. Unica regalis generis sum stirpe creata; Ipsa jubente Deo, lætari credo aliquando. Fuge [f. Terge] modo lacrimas, curam dissolve molestam; Redde polo faciem, mentemque ad sidera tolle: Jam [f. Nam] Deus est hominum plasmator, rector et auctor, Non [f. Nec] sinit has lacrimas casso finire labore. Malone. I have subjoined this song (which is an exact copy of the Latin hexameters in the Gesta Romanorum) from Twine's translation. The song is thus introduced: “Then began she to record in verses, and therewithal to sing so swetely, that Appollonius notwithstanding his great sorrow, wondred at her. And these were the verses which she soong so pleasantly unto the instrument.” “Amongst the harlots foul I walk,   “Yet harlot none am I: “The rose among the thorns it grows,   “And is not hurt thereby. “The thief that stole me, sure I think,   “Is slain before this time: “A bawd me bought, yet am I not   “Defil'd by fleshly crime. “Were nothing pleasanter to me   “Than parents mine to know: “I am the issue of a king,   “My blood from kings doth flow. “I hope that God will mend my state,   “And send a better day: “Leave off your tears, pluck up your heart,   “And banish care away. “Show gladness in your countenance,   “Cast up your cheerful eyes: “That God remains that once of nought   “Created earth and skies. “He will not let, in care and thought, “You still to live, and all for nought.” Steevens.

Note return to page 509 7&lblank; comet-like:] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “So, portent-like,” &c. The old copy of Pericles has—“like a comet.” Steevens. “&lblank; that ne'er before invited eyes, “But have been gaz'd on like a comet:” So, in King Henry IV.: “By being seldom seen, I could not stir, “But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at.” Malone.

Note return to page 510 8My derivation was from ancestors Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:] Thus, in Othello: “&lblank; I fetch my birth “From men of royal siege &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 511 9&lblank; and aukward casualties &lblank;] Aukward is adverse. Our author has the same epithet in The Second Part of King Henry VI.: “And twice by aukward wind from England's bank “Drove back again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 512 1You would not do me violence.] This refers to a part of the story that seems to be made no use of in the present scene. Thus, in Twine's translation: “Then Apollonius fell in rage, and forgetting all courtesie, &c. rose up sodainly and stroke the maiden,” &c. See, however, p. 199, line 10. Steevens.

Note return to page 513 2I do think so. I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me.— You are like something that—What country-woman? Here of these shores?] This passage is so strangely corrupted in the first quarto and all the other copies, that I cannot forbear transcribing it: “Per. I do thinke so, pray you turne your eyes upon me, your like something that, what countrey women heare of these shewes. “Mar. No nor of any shewes,” &c. For the ingenious emendation—shores, instead of shewes— (which is so clearly right, that I have not hesitated to insert it in the text) as well as the happy regulation of the whole passage, I am indebted to the patron of every literary undertaking, my friend, the Earl of Charlemont. Malone.

Note return to page 514 3I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.] So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, “And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: “Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, “And I, a gasping, new-deliver'd mother, “Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 515 4&lblank; such a one My daughter might have been:] So, Dæmones in the Rudens of Plautus, exclaims on beholding his long-lost child: O filia Mea! cum ego hanc video, mearum me absens miseriarum commones, Trima quæ periit mihi: jam tanta esset, si vivit, scio. It is observable that some of the leading incidents in this play strongly remind us of the Rudens. There Arcturus, like Gower, &grp;&grr;&gro;&grl;&gro;&grg;&gri;&grz;&gre;&gri;.—In the Latin comedy, fishermen, as in Pericles, are brought on the stage, one of whom drags on shore in his net the wallet which principally produces the catastrophe; and the heroines of Plautus, and Marina, fall alike into the hands of a procurer. A circumstance on which much of the plot in both these dramatick pieces depends. Holt White.

Note return to page 516 5&lblank; her eyes as jewel-like, And cas'd as richly:] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; and in this habit, “Met I my father with his bleeding rings, “Their precious stones new-lost.” Again, ibidem: “What, with this case of eyes?” Malone. So, in the third Act, Cerimon says: “She is alive;—behold “Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels, “Which Pericles has lost, “Begin to part their fringes of bright gold.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 517 6&lblank; in pace another Juno;] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; Highest queen of state “Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait;” Malone.

Note return to page 518 7Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, The more she gives them speech.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; other women cloy “The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry, “Where most she satisfies.” Again, in Hamlet: “As if increase of appetite did grow “By what it fed on.” Malone.

Note return to page 519 8And how achiev'd you these endowments, which You make more rich to owe?] To owe in ancient language is to possess. So, in Othello: “&lblank; that sweet sleep “That thou ow'dst yesterday.” The meaning of the compliment is:—These endowments, however valuable in themselves, are heighten'd by being in your possession. They acquire additional grace from their owner. Thus also, one of Timon's flatterers: “You mend the jewel by the wearing of it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 520 9&lblank; a place For the crown'd truth to dwell in:] It is observable that our poet, when he means to represent any quality of the mind as eminently perfect, furnishes the imaginary being whom he personifies, with a crown. Thus, in his 144th Sonnet: “Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, “Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?” Again, in his 37th Sonnet: “For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, “Or any of these all, or all, or more, “Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit &lblank;.” 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.” Malone.

Note return to page 521 1Didst thou not say,] All the old copies read—Didst thou not stay. It was evidently a false print in the first edition. Malone.

Note return to page 522 2Some such thing indeed &lblank;] For the insertion of the word indeed, I am accountable. Malone.

Note return to page 523 3&lblank; thou art a man, and I Have suffer'd like a girl:] So, in Macbeth: “If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me “The baby of a girl.” Malone.

Note return to page 524 4Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves,] So, in Twelfth-Night: “She sat like Patience on a monument, “Smiling at Grief.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “Onward to Troy with these blunt swains he goes; “So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes.” Malone.

Note return to page 525 5&lblank; and smiling Extremity out of act.] By her beauty and patient meekness disarming Calamity, and preventing her from using her uplifted sword. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm, “That was uprear'd to execution.” Extremity (though not personified as here) is in like manner used in King Lear, for the utmost of human suffering: “&lblank; another, “To amplify too much, would make much more, “And top extremity.” Malone.

Note return to page 526 6How lost thou them?—Thy name, my most kind virgin? Recount, I do beseech thee; come, sit by me.] All the old copies read: “How lost thou thy name, my most kind virgin, recount,” &c. But Marina had not said any thing about her name. She had indeed told the king, that “Time had rooted out her parentage, and to the world and aukward casualties bound her in servitude.”— Pericles, therefore, naturally asks her, by what accident she had lost her friends; and at the same time desires to know her name. Marina answers his last question first, and then proceeds to tell her history. The insertion of the word them, which I suppose to have been omitted by the negligence of the compositor, renders the whole clear. The metre of the line, which was before defective, and Marina's answer, both support the conjectural reading of the text. Malone.

Note return to page 527 7&lblank; a troubler of your peace,] Thus the earliest quarto. So, in King Richard III.: “And then hurl down their indignation “On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace.” The folios and the modern editions read—a trouble of your peace. Malone.

Note return to page 528 8No motion?] i. e. no puppet dress'd up to deceive me. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet!” Steevens. This passage should be pointed thus: “Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy-motion?” That is, “Have you really life in you, or are you merely a puppet formed by enchantment? the work of fairies.” The present reading cannot be right, for fairies were supposed to be animated beings, and to have working pulses as well as men. M. Mason. If Mr. M. Mason's punctuation were followed, the line would be too long by a foot. Pericles suggests three images in his question—1. Have you a working pulse? i. e. are you any thing human and really alive? 2. Are you a fairy? 3. Or are you a puppet? Steevens. In the old copy this passage is thus exhibited: “But are you flesh and blood? “Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy? “Motion well, speak on,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 529 9Who died the very minute I was born,] Thus the old copy. Either the construction is—‘My mother, who died the very minute I was born, was the daughter of a king,’—or we ought to read: “She died the very minute,” &c. otherwise it is the king, not the queen, that died at the instant of Marina's birth. In the old copies these lines are given as prose. Steevens. The word very I have inserted to complete the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 530 1This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep &lblank;] The words, “This is the rarest dream,” &c. are not addressed to Marina, but spoken aside. Malone.

Note return to page 531 2You'll scarce believe me; 'twere best I did give o'er.] All the old copies read—“You scorn, believe me,” &c. The reply of Pericles induces me to think the author wrote: “You'll scarce believe me; 'twere best,” &c. Pericles had expressed no scorn in the preceding speech; but, on the contrary, great complacency and attention. So also, before: “&lblank; Pr'ythee speak: “Falseness cannot come from thee— “&lblank; I'll believe thee,” &c. The false prints in this play are so numerous, that the greatest latitude must be allowed to conjecture. Malone.

Note return to page 532 3I will believe you by the syllable, &c.] i. e. I will believe every word you say. So, in Macbeth: “To the last syllable of recorded time.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well: “To the utmost syllable of your worthiness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 4&lblank; who having drawn &lblank;] Mr. Malone supposes the old copy meant to read— “&lblank; Whom having drawn,” &c. Steevens. This mode of phraseology, though now obsolete, was common in Shakspeare's time. So, in The Tempest: “Some food we had, and some fresh water, that “A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, “Out of his charity, (who being then appointed “Master of this design,) did give us,” &c. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; This your son-in-law, “And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) “Is troth-plight to your daughter.” See also vol. xiv. p. 135, n. 2. When the former edition of this play was printed, I imagined the original copy printed in 1609, read—“who having drawn to do't, not observing the mark of abbreviation over the letter o (wh&obar;) which shows the word intended was whom. Malone. I have now two copies of this quarto 1609 before me, and neither of them exhibits the mark on which Mr. Malone's supposition is founded. I conclude therefore that this token of abbreviation was an accidental blot in the copy which that gentleman consulted. Old copy— “&lblank; having drawn to do't &lblank;.” I read: “A villain to attempt it, who, having drawn, “A crew of pirates,” &c. The words—to do't—are injurious to the measure, and unnecessary to the sense, which is complete without them. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “What! art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?” Again, in King Henry V.: “O, well a day, if he be not drawn now!” Steevens. Upon an inspection of Mr. Malone's copy, Mr. Steevens appears to be right. Boswell.

Note return to page 534 5And drown me with their sweetness.] We meet a kindred thought in The Merchant of Venice: “O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, “In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess, “I feel too much thy blessing; make it less, “For fear I surfeit.” Malone.

Note return to page 535 6Though doubts did ever sleep.] i. e. in plain language, ‘though nothing ever happened to awake a scruple or doubt concerning your veracity.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 536 7&lblank; the heir of kingdoms, And a mother like to Pericles thy father.] The old copy “And another like to Pericles thy father.” There can be no doubt that there is here a gross corruption. The correction which I have made, affords an easy sense. The mother of Marina was the heir of kingdoms, and in that respect resembled Pericles. I believe the same error has happened in Hamlet, where in Act V. Sc. II. we find—“Is't not possible to understand in another tongue?” instead of which I believe the poet wrote, “Is't possible not to understand in a mother tongue?” This error actually happened in the first edition of Sir Francis Bacon's Essay on the Advancement of Learning, b. ii. p. 60, 4to. 1605: “&lblank; by the art of Grammar, whereof the use in another tongue is small; in a foreign tongue more.” In the table of Errata we are desired to read—“a mother tongue.” Malone. I think that a slight alteration will restore the passage, and read it thus: “&lblank; But tell me now “My drown'd queen's name (as in the rest you said “Thou hast been godlike perfect) thou'rt heir of kingdoms, “And another life to Pericles thy father.” That is, ‘Do but tell me my drowned queen's name, and thou wilt prove the heir of kingdoms, and another life to your father Pericles.”—This last amendment is confirmed by what he says in the speech preceding, where he expresses the same thought: “&lblank; O come hither, “Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget.” M. Mason. I have adopted Mr. M. Mason's very happy emendation, with a somewhat different arrangement of the lines, and the omission of two useless words. Steevens. Mr. Steevens reads: “(As in the rest thou hast been godlike perfect,) “My drown'd queen's name, thou art the heir of kingdoms, “And another life to Pericles thy father.” Boswell.

Note return to page 537 8Thaisa was my mother, who did end, The minute I began.] So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; Lady, “Dear queen, that ended when I but began, “Give me that hand of yours to kiss.” Malone.

Note return to page 538 9&lblank; Mine own, Helicanus, &c.] Perhaps this means, ‘she is mine own daughter, Helicanus, (not murder'd according to the design of Cleon) she (I say) shall tell thee all,’ &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 539 1&lblank; But hark, what musick?— Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him &lblank;] Thus the earliest quarto. The quarto 1619, and all the subsequent editions, read: “But hark, what musick's this Helicanus? my “Marina,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 540 2O'er, point by point,] So, in Gower: “Fro poynt to poynt all she hym tolde “That she hath long in herte holde, “And never durst make hir mone “But only to this lorde allone.” Malone.

Note return to page 541 3&lblank; for yet he seems to doubt &lblank;] The old copies and read—“for yet he seems to doat.” It was evidently a misprint. Malone.

Note return to page 542 4Most heavenly musick: It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber Hangs, &c.] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.” See vol. iv. p. 387, n. 9. Consult also Pindar's First Pythian, Ronsard, Gray, &c. The version of Ronsard is worth transcribing: Et au caquet de tes cordes bien jointes Son aigle dort sur la foudre a trois pointes, Abbaissant l'aile: adonc tu vas charmant Ses yeux aigus, et lui en les ferment Son dos herisse et ses plumes repousse, Flatté du son de ta corde si douce. Ode 22, edit. 1632, folio. Steevens. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, “Unless some dull and favourable hand “Will whisper musick to my weary spirit.” Malone.

Note return to page 543 5&lblank; Well, my companion-friends, If this but answer to my just belief, I'll well remember you.] These lines clearly belong to Marina. She has been for some time silent, and Pericles having now fallen into a slumber, she naturally turns to her companion, and assures her, that if she has in truth found her royal father, (as she has good reason to believe,) she shall partake of her prosperity. It appears from a former speech, in which the same phrase is used, that a lady had entered with Marina: “Sir, I will use “My utmost skill in his recovery; provided “That none but I, and my companion-maid, “Be suffer'd to come near him.” I would therefore read in the passage now before us: “&lblank; Well, my companion-friend;” or, if the text here be right, we might read in the former instance —“my companion-maids.”—In the preceding part of this scene it has been particularly mentioned, that Marina was with her fellow-maids upon the leafy shelter, &c. There is nothing in these lines that appropriates them to Lysimachus; nor any particular reason why he should be munificent to his friends because Pericles has found his daughter. On the other hand, this recollection of her lowly companion, is perfectly suitable to the amiable character of Marina. Malone. I am satisfied to leave Lysimachus in quiet possession of these lines. He is much in love with Marina, and supposing himself to be near the gratification of his wishes, with a generosity common to noble natures on such occasions, is desirous to make his friends and companions partakers of his happiness. Steevens.

Note return to page 544 6My temple stands in Ephesus;] This vision is formed on the following passage in Gower: “The hie God, which wolde hym kepe, “Whan that this kynge was fast aslepe, “By nightes tyme he hath hym bede “To sayle unto another stede: “To Ephesum he bad hym drawe, “And as it was that tyme lawe, “He shall do there hys sacrifice; “And eke he bad in all wise, “That in the temple, amongst all, “His foretune, as it is befalle, “Touchyng his doughter and his wife, “He shall be knowe upon his life.” Malone.

Note return to page 545 7And give them repetition to the life.] The old copies read— to the like. For the emendation, which the rhyme confirms, the reader is indebted to Lord Charlemont. “Give them repetition to the life,” means, as he observes, “Repeat your misfortunes so feelingly and so exactly, that the language of your narration may imitate to the life the transactions you relate.” So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; The younger brother, Cadwall, “Strikes life into my speech.” In a Midsummer-Night's Dream, these words are again confounded, for in the two old quartos we find: “Two of the first, life coats in heraldry,” &c. Malone. Before I had read the emendation proposed by Lord Charlemont, it had suggested itself to me, together with the following explanation of it: i. e. repeat to them a lively and faithful narrative of your adventures. Draw such a picture as shall prove itself to have been copied from real, not from pretended calamities; such a one as shall strike your hearers with all the lustre of conspicuous truth. I suspect, however, that Diana's revelation to Pericles, was originally delivered in rhyme, as follows: “My temple stands in Ephesus; hie thither   “And do upon mine altar sacrifice. “There, when my maiden priests are met together,   “Before the people all, in solemn wise, “Recount the progress of thy miseries. “Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife;   “How mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's: go, “And give them repetition to the life.   “Perform my bidding, or thou liv'st in woe:   “Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow.” Thus, in Twine's translation: “And when Appollonius laide him downe to rest, there appeared an angell in his sleepe, commaunding him to leaue his course toward Tharsus, and to saile unto Ephesus, and to go unto the Temple of Diana, accompanied with his sonne in lawe and his daughter, and there with a loude voice to declare all his adventures, whatsoever had befallen him from his youth unto that present day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 546 8&lblank; and be happy,] The word be I have supplied. Malone.

Note return to page 547 9&lblank; goddess argentine,] That is, regent of the silver moon. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Were Tarquin night, as he is but night's child, “The silver-shining queen he would distain.” “In the chemical phrase, (as Lord Charlemont observes to me,) a language well understood when this play was written, Luna or Diana means silver, as Sol does gold.” Malone.

Note return to page 548 1&lblank; blown sails;] i. e. swollen. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “A vent upon her arm, and something blown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 549 2I have another suit,] The old copies read—“I have another sleight.” But the answer of Pericles shows clearly that they are corrupt. The sense requires some word synonymous to request. I therefore read—“I have another suit.” So, in King Henry VIII.: “I have a suit which you must not deny me.” Malone. This correction is undoubtedly judicious. I had formerly made an idle attempt in support of the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 550 3More a little, and then dumb.] See the following note. Steevens. “&lblank; and then dumb.” Permit me to add a few words more, and then I shall be silent. The old copies have dum; in which way I have observed in ancient books the word dumb was occasionally spelt. Thus, in The Metamorphosis of Pygmalion's Image, by J. Marston, 1598: “Look how the peevish papists crouch and kneel “To some dum idoll with their offering.” There are many as imperfect rhymes in this play, as that of the present couplet. So, in a former chorus, moons and dooms. Again, at the end of this, soon and doom. Mr. Rowe reads: “More a little, and then done.” Malone. Done is surely the true reading. See n. 7, below. Steevens.

Note return to page 551 4This, as my last boon, give me,] The word as, which is not found in the old copies, was supplied by Mr. Steevens, to complete the metre. Malone. Some word is, in my opinion, still wanting to the measure. Perhaps our author wrote: “This then, as my last boon, give me &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 552 5Till he had done his sacrifice,] That is, till Pericles had done his sacrifice. Malone.

Note return to page 553 6The interim, pray you, all confound.] So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; Myself have play'd “The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.” To confound here signifies to consume.—So, in King Henry IV.: “He did confound the best part of an hour, “Exchanging hardiment with great Glendower.” Malone.

Note return to page 554 7That he can hither come so soon, Is by your fancy's thankful boon.] Old copies—“thankful doom;” but as soon and doom are not rhymes corresponding, I read as in the text. Thankful boon may signify—‘the licence you grant us in return for the pleasure we have afforded you in the course of the play;’ or ‘the boon for which we thank you.’ So, before in this chorus: “This as my last boon give me.” Steevens. We had similar rhymes before: “&lblank; if king Pericles “Come not home in twice six moons, “He, obedient to their dooms, “Will take the crown.” I have, therefore, not disturbed the reading of the old copy. Malone. I have already expressed my belief, that in this last instance, a transposition is necessary: “Come not, in twice six moons, home, “He, obedient to their doom, “Will take,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 555 8Thaisa &lblank; as high-priestess;] Does this accord with Iachimo's description: “Live, like Diana's priestess, 'twixt cold sheets?” Diana must have been wofully imposed on, if she received the mother of Marina as a maiden votaress. Steevens.

Note return to page 556 9Who, frighted from my country, did wed &lblank;] Country must be considered as a trisyllable. So, entrance, semblance, and many others. Malone.

Note return to page 557 1&lblank; who, O goddess, Wears yet thy silver livery.] i. e. her white robe of innocence, as being yet under the protection of the goddess of chastity. Percy. So, in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint: “There my white stole of chastity I daft.” We had the same expression before: “One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery.” Malone.

Note return to page 558 2You are, you are—O royal Pericles!] The similitude between this scene, and the discovery in the last Act of The Winter's Tale, will, I suppose, strike every reader. Malone.

Note return to page 559 3What means the woman?] This reading was furnished by the second quarto. The first reads—What means the mum? Malone.

Note return to page 560 4Early, one blust'ring morn,] Old copy—in blust'ring, &c. The emendation, which is judicious, was furnished by Mr. Malone. Steevens.

Note return to page 561 5Found there rich jewels;] The second quarto, the folios, and Mr. Rowe, read—these jewels. Pericles's next question shows that these could not be the poet's word. The true reading is found in the first quarto. It should be remembered, that Cerimon delivered these jewels to Thaisa, (before she left the house) in whose custody they afterwards remained. Malone.

Note return to page 562 6Here in Diana's temple.] The same situation occurs again in The Comedy of Errors, where Ægeon loses his wife at sea, and finds her at last in a nunnery. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 7&lblank; they shall be brought you to my house, Whither I invite you.] This circumstance bears some resemblance to the meeting of Leontes and Hermione. The office of Cerimon is not unlike that of Paulina in The Winter's Tale. Steevens.

Note return to page 564 8&lblank; to my sense &lblank;] Sense is here used for sensual passion. So also, in Measure for Measure, and in Hamlet. [See note on— “&lblank; Sense, sure, you have “Else could you not have motion.” In the latter, vol. vii. p. 394, n. 2.] Steevens.

Note return to page 565 9&lblank; supposed dead, And drown'd.] Supposed dead, and that my death was by drowning. Malone. Drown'd, in this instance, does not signify suffocated by water, but overwhelmed in it. Thus, in Knolles's History: “Galleys might be drowned in the harbour with the great ordnance, before they could be rigged.” Steevens.

Note return to page 566 2This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness Makes my past miseries sport:] So, in King Lear: “It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows “That ever I have felt.” Malone.

Note return to page 567 3&lblank; I may Melt, and no more be seen.] This is a sentiment which Shakspeare never fails to introduce on occasions similar to the present. So, in Othello: “&lblank; If I were now to die “'Twere now to be most happy,” &c. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd “To die when I desire.” Malone. “Melt, and no more be seen.” So, in the 39th Psalm:—“O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 568 4&lblank; O come, be buried A second time within these arms.] So, in The Winter's Tale: “Not like a corse;—or if—not to be buried, “But quick, and in mine arms.” Malone.

Note return to page 569 5Bless'd, and mine own!] So, in The Winter's Tale: “Tell me, mine own, “Where hast thou been preserv'd? Where liv'd? How found “Thy father's court?” Malone.

Note return to page 570 6I bless thee &lblank;] For the insertion of the personal pronoun I am responsible. Malone.

Note return to page 571 7&lblank; the fair-betrothed &lblank;] i. e. fairly contracted, honourably affianced. Steevens.

Note return to page 572 8&lblank; Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis.] So, in the last scene of The Winter's Tale, Leontes informs Paulina: “&lblank; This your son-in-law, “And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) “Is troth-plight to your daughter.” Malone.

Note return to page 573 9&lblank; And now, This ornament that makes me look so dismal, Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form; And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.] So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “&lblank; the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls.” The author has here followed Gower, or Gesta Romanorum: “&lblank; this a vowe to God I make “That I shall never for hir sake, “My berde for no likynge shave, “Till it befalle that I have “In convenable time of age “Besette hir unto mariage.” Confessio Amantis. The word so in the first line, and the words—my lov'd Marina, in the second, which both the sense and metre require, I have supplied. Malone. The author is in this place guilty of a slight inadvertency. It was but a short time before, when Pericles arrived at Tharsus, and heard of his daughter's death, that he made a vow never to wash his face or cut his hair. M. Mason. See p. 126, n. 3; where, if my reading be not erroneous, a proof will be found that this vow was made almost immediately after the birth of Marina; and consequently that Mr. M. Mason's present remark has no sure foundation. Steevens. Yet still there is an inadvertency somewhere; for if Pericles made such a vow once, he would scarcely have to make it again. Boswell.

Note return to page 574 1Heavens make a star of him!] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Take him and cut him into little stars &lblank;.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; for they are fit “To inlay heaven with stars.” Steevens.

Note return to page 575 2Sir, lead the way.] Dr. Johnson has justly objected to the lame and impotent conclusion of The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “Come, will you hence?” The concluding line of The Winter's Tale furnishes us with one equally abrupt, and nearly resembling the present:—“Hastily lead away.” This passage will justify the correction of the old copy now made. It reads—“Sir, leads the way.” Malone.

Note return to page 576 3In Antioch, and his daughter.] The old copies read—“In Antiochus and his daughter,” &c. The correction was suggested by Mr. Steevens. “So, (as he observes,) in Shakspeare's other plays, France, for the king of France; Morocco, for the king of Morocco,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 577 4Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.] All the copies are here, I think, manifestly corrupt.—They read: “Virtue preferr'd from fell destruction's blast &lblank;.” The gross and numerous errors of even the most accurate copy of this play, will, it is hoped, justify the liberty that has been taken on this and some other occasions. It would be difficult to produce from the works of Shakspeare many couplets more spirited and harmonious than this. Malone.

Note return to page 578 5&lblank; and honour'd name &lblank;] The first and second quarto read— “&lblank; the honour'd name.” The reading of the text, which appears to me more intelligible, is that of the folio 1664. The city is here used for the collective body of the citizens. Malone.

Note return to page 579 6To punish them; although not done, but meant.] The defective metre of this line in the old copy, induces me to think that the word them which I have supplied, was omitted by the carelessness of the printer. Malone.

Note return to page 580 7This play is so uncommonly corrupted by the printers, &c. that it does not so much seem to want illustration as emendation: and the errata are so numerous and gross, that one is tempted to suspect almost every line where there is the least deviation in the language from what is either usual or proper. Many of the corruptions appear to have arisen from an illiterate transcriber having written the speeches by ear from an inaccurate reciter; who between them both have rendered the text (in the verbs particularly) very ungrammatical. More of the phraseology used in the genuine dramas of Shakspeare prevails in Pericles, than in any of the other six doubted plays. Percy. The fragment of the MS. poem, mentioned in the preliminary observations, has suffered so much by time, as to be scarcely legible. The parchment on which it is written having been converted into the cover of a book, for which purpose its edges were cut off, some words are entirely lost. However, from the following concluding lines the reader may be enabled to form a judgment with respect to the age of this piece: “. . . . . . thys was translatyd almost at englonde ende “. . . . . . to the makers stat tak sich a &lblank; mynde “. . . . have y take hys bedys on hond and sayd hys patr. nostr. and crede “Thomas* [Subnote: *The letters in the Italick character have been supplied by the conjecture of Mr. Tyrwhitt, who very obligingly examined this ancient fragment, and furnished the editor with the above extract.] vicary y understonde at wymborne mynstre in that stede “. . . . . . y thouzte zon have wryte hit is nouzt worth to be knowe “. . that wole the sothe ywyte go thider and me wol the schewe.” On the subject of Pericles, Lillo formed a play of three Acts, which was first represented in the year 1738. To a former edition of this play were subjoined two Dissertations; one written by Mr. Steevens, the other by me. In the latter I urged such arguments as then appeared to me to have weight, to prove that it was the entire work of Shakspeare, and one of his earliest compositions. Mr. Steevens on the other hand maintained, that it was originally the production of some elder playwright, and afterwards improved by our poet, whose hand was acknowledged to be visible in many scenes throughout the play. On a review of the various arguments which each of us produced in favour of his own hypothesis, I am now convinced that the theory of Mr. Steevens was right, and have no difficulty in acknowledging my own to be erroneous. This play was entered on the Stationers' books, together with Antony and Cleopatra, in the year 1608, by Edward Blount, a bookseller of eminence, and one of the publishers of the first folio edition of Shakspeare's works. It was printed with his name in the title-page, in his life-time; but this circumstance proves nothing; because by the knavery of booksellers, other pieces were also ascribed to him in his life-time, of which he indubitably wrote not a line. Nor is it necessary to urge in support of its genuineness, that at a subsequent period it was ascribed to him by several dramatick writers. I wish not to rely on any circumstance of that kind; because in all questions of this nature, internal evidence is the best that can be produced, and to every person intimately acquainted with our poet's writings, must in the present case be decisive. The congenial sentiments, the numerous expressions bearing a striking similitude to passages in his undisputed plays, some of the incidents, the situation of many of the persons, and in various places the colour of the style, all these combine to set the seal of Shakspeare on the play before us, and furnish us with internal and irresistible proofs, that a considerable portion of this piece, as it now appears, was written by him. The greater part of the three last Acts may, I think, on this ground be safely ascribed to him; and his hand may be traced occasionally in the other two divisions. To alter, new-model, and improve the unsuccessful dramas of preceding writers, was, I believe, much more common in the time of Shakspeare than is generally supposed. This piece having been thus new-modelled by our poet, and enriched with many happy strokes from his pen, is unquestionably entitled to that place among his works which it has now obtained. Malone. After Mr. Malone's retraction, (which is no less honourable to himself than the present editor of Pericles,) [Mr. Steevens] it may be asked why the dissertations mentioned in the foregoing note appear a second time in print. To such a question I am not unwilling to reply. My sole object for republishing them is to manifest that the skill displayed by my late opponent in defence of what he conceived to have been right, can only be exceeded by the liberality of his concession since he has supposed himself in the wrong. Steevens. That the foregoing note and some passages in those which follow it may be understood, the reader should be informed that this discussion originally appeared in Mr. Malone's Supplement to Mr. Steevens's edition in 1778, but was omitted by him when he himself published our poet's works in 1790. Boswell. In a former disquisition concerning this play, I mentioned, that the dumb shows, which are found in it, induced me to doubt whether it came from the pen of Shakspeare. The sentiments that I then expressed, were suggested by a very hasty and transient survey of the piece. I am still, however of opinion, that this consideration (our author having expressly ridiculed such exhibitions) might in a very doubtful question have some weight. But weaker proofs must yield to stronger. It is idle to lay any great stress upon such a slight circumstance, when the piece itself furnishes internal and irresistible evidence of its authenticity. The congenial sentiments, the numerous expressions bearing a striking similitude to passages in his undisputed plays, the incidents, the situations of the persons, the colour of the style, at least through the greater part of the play, all, in my apprehension, conspire to set the seal of Shakspeare on this performance. What then shall we say to these dumb shows? Either, that the poet's practice was not always conformable to his opinions, (of which there are abundant proofs) or, (what I rather believe to be the case) that this was one of his earliest dramas, written at a time when these exhibitions were much admired, and before he had seen the absurdity of such ridiculous pageants; probably, in the year 1590 or 1591* [Subnote: *If this play was written in the year 1590 or 1591, with what colour of truth could it be styled (as it is in the title-page to the first edition of it, 4to. 1609,) “the late and much admired,” &c. Steevens.] . Mr. Rowe, in his first edition of Shakspeare, says, “It is owned that some part of Pericles certainly was written by him, particularly the last Act.” Dr. Farmer, whose opinion in every thing that relates to our author has deservedly the greatest weight, thinks the hand of Shakspeare may be sometimes seen in the latter part of the play, and there only. The scene, in the last Act, in which Pericles discovers his daughter, is indeed eminently beautiful; but the whole piece appears to me to furnish abundant proofs of the hand of Shakspeare. The inequalities in different parts of it are not greater than may be found in some of his other dramas. It should be remembered also, that Dryden, who lived near enough the time to be well informed, has pronounced this play to be our author's first performance: “Shakspeare's own Muse his Pericles first bore; “The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor.” Let me add, that the contemptuous manner in which Ben Jonson has mentioned it, is, in my apprehension, another proof of its authenticity. In his memorable Ode, written soon after his New Inn had been damned, when he was comparing his own unsuccessful pieces with the applauded dramas of his contemporaries, he naturally chose to point at what he esteemed a weak performance of a rival, whom he appears to have envied and hated merely because the splendor of his genius had eclipsed his own, and had rendered the reception of those tame and disgusting imitations of antiquity, which he boastingly called the only legitimate English dramas, as cold as the performances themselves. As the subject is of some curiosity, I shall make no apology for laying before the reader a more minute investigation of it. It is proper, however, to inform him, that one of the following dissertations on the genuineness of this play precedes the other only for a reason assigned by Dogberry, that where two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind. That we might catch hints from the strictures of each other, and collect what we could mutually advance into a point, Mr. Steevens and I set forward with an agreement to maintain the propriety of our respective suppositions relative to this piece, as far as we were able: to submit our remarks, as they gradually increased, alternately to each other, and to dispute the opposite hypothesis, till one of us should acquiesce in the opinion of his opponent, or each remain confirmed in his own. The reader is therefore requested to bear in mind, that if the last series of arguments be considered as an answer to the first, the first was equally written in reply to the last: &lblank; unus sese armat utroque, Unaque mens animat non dissociabilis ambos. Malone. That this tragedy has some merit, it were vain to deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shakspeare, is more than can be hastily granted. I shall not venture, with Dr. Farmer, to determine that the hand of our great poet is only visible in the last Act, for I think it appears in several passages dispersed over each of these divisions. I find it difficult, however, to persuade myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, or the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c. and this opinion is founded on a concurrence of circumstances which I shall attempt to enumerate, that the reader may have the benefit of all the lights I am able to throw on so obscure a subject. Be it first observed, that most of the choruses in Pericles are written in a measure which Shakspeare has not employed on the same occasion, either in The Winter's Tale, Romeo and Juliet, or King Henry the Fifth. If it be urged, that throughout these recitations Gower was his model, I can safely affirm that their language, and sometimes their versification, by no means resembles that of Chaucer's contemporary. One of these monologues is composed in haxameters, and another in alternate rhymes; neither of which are ever found in his printed works, or those which yet remain in manuscript; nor does he, like the author of Pericles, introduce four and five-feet metre in the same series of lines. If Shakspeare therefore be allowed to have copied not only the general outline, but even the peculiarities of nature with ease and accuracy, we may surely suppose that, at the expence of some unprofitable labour, he would not have failed so egregiously in his imitation of antiquated style or numbers.—That he could assume with nicety the terms of affectation and pedantry, he has shown in the characters of Osrick and Armado, Holofernes and Nathaniel. That he could successfully counterfeit provincial dialects, we may learn from Edgar and Sir Hugh Evans; and that he was no stranger to the peculiarities of foreign pronunciation, is likewise evident from several scenes of English tinctured with French, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, and King Henry the Fifth* [Subnote: *Notwithstanding what I have advanced in favour of Shakspeare's uncommon powers of imitation, I am by no means sure he would have proved successful in a cold attempt to copy the peculiarities of language more ancient than his own. His exalted genius would have taught him to despise so servile an undertaking; and his good sense would have restrained him from engaging in a task which he had neither leisure nor patience to perform. His talents are displayed in copies from originals of a higher rank. Neither am I convinced that inferior writers have been over-lucky in poetical mimickries of their early predecessors. It is less difficult to deform language, than to bestow on it the true cast of antiquity; and though the licentiousness of Chaucer, and the obsolete words employed by Gower, are within the reach of moderate abilities, the humour of the one, and the general idiom of the other, are not quite so easy of attainment. The best of our modern poets have succeeded but tolerably in short compositions of this kind, and have therefore shown their prudence in attempting none of equal length with the assembled choruses in Pericles, which consist at least of three hundred lines.—Mr. Pope professes to give us a story in the manner of Chaucer; but uses a metre on the occasion in which not a single tale of that author is written.] . But it is here urged by Mr. Malone, that an exact imitation of Gower would have proved unintelligible to any audience during the reign of Elizabeth. If it were (which I am slow to admit) our author's judgment would scarce have permitted him to choose an agent so inadequate to the purpose of an interpreter; one whose years and phraseology must be set at variance before he could be understood, one who was to assume the form, office, and habit of an ancient, and was yet to speak the language of a modern. I am ready to allow my opponent that the authors who introduced Machiavel, Guicciardine, and the Monk of Chester, on the stage, have never yet been blamed because they avoided to make the two former speak in their native tongue, and the latter in the English dialect of his age. The proper language of the Italian statesman and historian, could not have been understood by our common audiences; and as to Rainulph, he is known to have composed his Chronicle in Latin. Besides, these three personages were writers in prose. They are alike called up to superintend the relations which were originally found in their respective books; and the magick that converted them into poets, might claim an equal power over their modes of declamation. The case is otherwise, when ancient bards, whose compositions were in English, are summoned from the grave to instruct their countrymen; for these apparitions may be expected to speak in the style and language that distinguishes their real age, and their known productions, when there is no sufficient reason why they should depart from them. If the inequalities of measure which I have pointed out, be also visible in the lyrick parts of Macbeth, &c. I must observe that throughout these plays our author has not professed to imitate the style or manner of any acknowledged character or age; and therefore was tied down to the observation of no particular rules. Most of the irregular lines, however, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, &c. I suspect of having been prolonged by casual monosyllables, which stole into them through the inattention of the copyist, or the impertinence of the speaker.—If indeed the choruses in Pericles contain many such marked expressions as are discoverable in Shakspeare's other dramas, I must confess that they have hitherto escaped my notice; unless they may be said to occur in particulars which of necessity must be common to all soliloquies of a similar kind. Such interlocutions cannot fail occasionally to contain the same modes of address, and the same persuasive arguments to solicit indulgence and secure applause. As for the ardentia verba celebrated by Mr. Malone, (to borrow Milton's phrase,) in my apprehension they burn but cold and frore. To these observations I may add, that though Shakspeare seems to have been well versed in the writings of Chaucer, his plays contain no marks of his acquaintance with the works of Gower, from whose fund of stories not one of his plots is adopted. When I quoted the Confessio Amantis to illustrate “Florentius' love” in The Taming of a Shrew, it was only because I had then met with no other book in which that tale was related.—I ought not to quit the subject of these choruses without remarking that Gower interposes no less than six times in the course of our play, exclusive of his introduction and peroration. Indeed he enters as often as any chasm in the story requires to be supplied. I do not recollect the same practice in other tragedies, to which the chorus usually serves as a prologue, and then appears, only between the Acts. Shakspeare's legitimate pieces, in which these mediators are found, might still be represented without their aid; but the omission of Gower in Pericles would render it so perfectly confused, that the audience might justly exclaim with Othello:— “Chaos is come again.” Very little that can tend with certainty to establish or oppose our author's exclusive right in this dramatick performance, is to be collected from the dumb shows; for he has no such in his other plays, as will serve to direct our judgment. These in Pericles are not introduced (in compliance with two ancient customs) at stated periods, or for the sake of adventitious splendor. They do not appear before every Act, like those in Ferrex and Porrex; they are not, like those in Jocasta, merely ostentatious. Such deviations from common practice incline me to believe that originally there were no mute exhibitions at all throughout the piece; but that when Shakspeare undertook to reform it, finding some parts peculiarly long and uninteresting, he now and then struck out the dialogue, and only left the action in its room: advising the author to add a few lines to his choruses, as auxiliaries on the occasion. Those whose fate it is to be engaged in the repairs of an old mansion-house, must submit to many aukward expedients, which they would have escaped in a fabrick constructed on their own plan: or it might be observed, that though Shakspeare has expressed his contempt of such dumb shows as were inexplicable, there is no reason to believe he would have pointed the same ridicule at others which were more easily understood. I do not readily perceive that the aid of a dumb show is much more reprehensible than that of a chorus: Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus. If it be observed that the latter will admit of sentiment and poetical imagery, it may be also urged that the former will serve to furnish out such spectacles of magnificence as should by no means appear despicable in a kingdom which has ever encouraged the pomp of lord mayors' feasts, installments, and coronations.— I should extend these remarks to an unwarrantable length, or might be tempted to prove that many of Shakspeare's plays exhibit traces of these solemn pantomimes* [Subnote: *The reader who is willing to pursue this hint, may consult what are now called the stage directions, throughout the folio 1623, in the following pages. I refer to this copy, because it cannot be suspected of modern interpolation. Tempest, p. 13, 15, 16. All's Well, &c. 234, 238. King Henry VI. Part I. 100, 102, 105. Ditto, Part II. 125, 127, 129. Ditto, Part III. 164. King Henry VIII. 206, 207, 211, 215, 224, 226, 231. Coriolanus, 6, 7. Titus Andronicus, 31. Timon, 82. Macbeth, 135, 144. Hamlet, 267. Antony and Cleopatra, 351, 355. Cymbeline, 392, 393.] ; though they are too adroitly managed by him to have need of verbal interpretation. Next it may be remarked, that the valuable parts of Pericles are more distinguished by their poetical turn, than by variety of character, or command over the passions. Partial graces are indeed almost the only improvements that the mender of a play already written can easily introduce; for an error in the first concoction can be redeemed by no future process of chemistry. A few flowery lines may here and there be strewn on the surface of a dramatick piece; but these have little power to impregnate its general mass. Character, on the contrary, must be designed at the author's outset, and proceed with gradual congeniality through the whole. In genuine Shakspeare, it insinuates itself every where, with an address like that of Virgil's snake— &lblank; fit tortile collo Aurum ingens coluber; fit longæ tænia vittæ, Innectitque comas, et membris lubricus errat. But the drama before us contains no discrimination of manners† [Subnote: †Those opticks that can detect the smallest vestige of Shakspeare in the character of the Pentapolitan Monarch, cannot fail with equal felicity to discover Helen's Beauty in a Brow of Egypt, and to find all that should adorn the Graces, in the persons and conduct of the Weird Sisters. Compared with this Simonides, the King of Navarre, in Love's Labour's Lost, Theseus, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, and the Rex Fistulatissimus, in All's Well That Ends Well, are the rarest compounds of Machiavel and Hercules.] , (except in the comick dialogues,) very few traces of original thought, and is evidently destitute of that intelligence and useful knowledge that pervade even the meanest of Shakspeare's undisputed performances. To speak more plainly, it is neither enriched by the gems that sparkle through the rubbish of Love's Labour's Lost, nor the good sense which so often fertilizes the barren fable of The Two Gentlemen of Verona.—Pericles, in short, is little more than a string of adventures so numerous, so inartificially crouded together, and so far removed from probability, that, in my private judgment, I must acquit even the irregular and lawless Shakspeare of having constructed the fabrick of the drama, though he has certainly bestowed some decoration on its parts. Yet even this decoration, like embroidery on a blanket, only serves by contrast to expose the meanness of the original materials. That the plays of Shakspeare have their inequalities likewise, is sufficiently understood; but they are still the inequalities of Shakspeare. He may occasionally be absurd, but is seldom foolish; he may be censured, but can rarely be despised. I do not recollect a single plot of Shakspeare's formation (or even adoption from preceding plays or novels) in which the majority of the characters are not so well connected, and so necessary in respect of each other, that they proceed in combination to the end of the story; unless that story (as in the cases of Antigonus and Mercutio) requires the interposition of death. In Pericles this continuity is wanting: &lblank; disjectas moles, avulsaque saxis Saxa vides &lblank;.” And even with the aid of Gower the scenes are rather loosely tacked together, than closely interwoven. We see no more of Antiochus after his first appearance. His anonymous daughter utters but one unintelligible couplet, and then vanishes. Simonides likewise is lost as soon as the marriage of Thaisa is over; and the punishment of Cleon and his wife, which poetick justice demanded, makes no part of the action, but is related in a kind of epilogue by Gower. This is at least a practice which in no instance has received the sanction of Shakspeare. From such deficiency of mutual interest, and liaison among the personages of the drama, I am further strengthened in my belief that our great poet had no share in constructing it* [Subnote: *It is remarkable, that not a name appropriated by Shakspeare to any character throughout his other plays, is to be found in this. At the same time the reader will observe that, except in such pieces as are built on historical subjects, or English fables, he employs the same proper names repeatedly in his different dramas. [Table: 4Kb] Antonio. Tempest. Two Gent. Much Ado. T. Night. M. of V. Sebastian. &wblank; Tw. Night. Ferdinand. &wblank; L. L. Lost. Francisco. &wblank; Hamlet. Stephano. &wblank; M. of Ven. Helena. Cymbeline. All's Well. M. N. Dr. Tr. and Cress. Demetrius. M. N. Dream. Ant. and Cl. Valentine. Two Gent. Tw. Night. Balthasar. Much Ado. M. of Ven. Com. of E. R. and Jul. Escalus. R. and Juliet. M. for Meas. Claudio. Much Ado. &wblank; Juliet. R. and Jul. &wblank; Mariana. M. for Meas. All's Well. Vincentio. Tam. the Shrew. &wblank; Portia. Julius Cæsar. M. of Ven. Gratiano. Othello. &wblank; Rosaline. L. L. Lost. As You &c. Katharine. Tam. the Shrew. L. L. Lost. Maria. Twelfth Night. &wblank; Emilia. Othello. W. Tale. Com. of E. Angelo. M. for Meas. Com. of E. Varro. Timon. Julius Cæs. Flavius. &wblank; &wblank; Lucilius. &wblank; &wblank; Diomedes. Tr. and Cress. Ant. and Cleo. Varrius. M. for Meas. &wblank; Cornelius. Hamlet. Cymbeline. Bianca. Othello. T. the Shrew. Paris. Tr. and Cress. R. and Jul. Baptista. Hamlet. T. the Shrew. Claudius. &wblank; Jul. Cæsar. Philo. Ant. and Cleo. Timon. Ventidius. &wblank; &wblank; Lucius. Cymbeline. &wblank; Cesario. Twelfth Night. Ant. and Cleo. To these may be added such as only differ from each other by means of fresh terminations: [Table: 1Kb] Launce. Two Gent. and Launcelot. Merchant of Venice. Adrian. Tempest. and Adriana. Comedy of Errors. Francisco. Hamlet, &c. and Francisca. Measure for Measure. Luce. Com. of Errors. Lucina, ibid. Lucetta. Two Gent. Silvius. As You Like It. and Silvia. Two Gent. of Verona. Egeus. Mid. Night's Dr. and Egeon. Comedy of Errors. Hortensius. Timon. and Hortensio. Taming of the Shrew. Leonato. Much Ado. and Leonatus. Cymbeline. Names that in some plays are appropriated to speaking characters, in other dramas are introduced as belonging only to absent persons or things. Thus we have mention of a Rosaline, a Lucio, a Helena, a Valentine, &c. in Romeo and Juliet. Isabella, Escalus, Antonio, and Sebastian, in All's Well That Ends Well. Capulet and Roderigo, in Twelfth-Night. Ferdinand and Troilus, in The Taming of a Shrew, &c. I have taken this minute trouble to gain an opportunity of observing how unlikely it is that Shakspeare should have been content to use second-hand names in so many of his more finished plays, and at the same time have bestowed original ones throughout the scenes of Pericles. This affords additional suspicion, to me, at least, that the story, and the personæ dramatis, were not of our author's selection.—Neither Gower, nor the translator of King Appolyn, has been followed on this occasion; for the names of Pericles, Escanes, Simonides, Cleon, Lysimachus, and Marina, are foreign to the old story, as related both by the poet and the novelist.] . Dr. Johnson long ago observed that his real power is not seen in the splendor of particular passages, but in the progress of his fable, and the tenour of his dialogue: and when it becomes necessary for me to quote a decision founded on comprehensive views, I can appeal to none in which I should more implicity confide.—Gower relates the story of Pericles in a manner not quite so desultory; and yet such a tale as that of Prince Appolyn, in its most perfect state, would hardly have attracted the notice of any playwright, except one who was quite a novice in the rules of his art. Mr. Malone indeed observes that our author has pursued the legend exactly as he found it in the Confessio Amantis, or elsewhere. I can only add, that this is by no means his practice in any other dramas, except such as are merely historical, or founded on facts from which he could not venture to deviate, because they were universally believed. Shakspeare has deserted his originals in As You Like It, Hamlet, King Lear, &c. The curious reader may easily convince himself of the truth of these assertions. That Shakspeare has repeated in his later plays any material circumstances which he had adopted in his more early ones, I am by no means ready to allow. Some smaller coincidences with himself may perhaps be discovered. Though it be not usual for one architect to build two fabricks exactly alike, he may yet be found to have distributed many ornaments in common over both, and to have fitted up more than one apartment with the same cornice and mouldings. If Pericles should be supposed to bear any general and striking resemblance to The Winter's Tale, let me enquire in what part of the former we are to search for the slightest traces of Leontes' jealousy (the hinge on which the fable turns) the noble fortitude of Hermione, the gallantry of Florizel, the spirit of Paulina, or the humour of Autolycus? Two stories cannot be said to have much correspondence, when the chief features that distinguish the one, are entirely wanting in the other. Mr. Malone is likewise willing to suppose that Shakspeare contracted his dialogue in the last Act of The Winter's Tale, because he had before exhausted himself on the same subject in Pericles. But it is easy to justify this distinction in our poet's conduct, on other principles. Neither the king or queen of Tyre feels the smallest degree of self-reproach. They meet with repeated expressions of rapture, for they were parted only by unprovoked misfortune. They speak without reserve, because there is nothing in their story which the one or the other can wish to be suppressed.—Leontes, on the contrary, seems content to welcome his return of happiness without expatiating on the means by which he had formerly lost it; nor does Hermione recapitulate her sufferings, through fear to revive the memory of particulars which might be construed into a reflection on her husband's jealousy. The discovery of Marina would likewise admit of clamorous transport, for similar reasons; but whatever could be said on the restoration of Perdita to her mother, would only tend to prolong the remorse of her father. Throughout the notes which I have contributed to Pericles, I have not been backward to point out many of the particulars on which the opinion of Mr. Malone is built; for as truth, not victory, is the object of us both, I am sure we cannot wish to keep any part of the evidence that may seem to effect our reciprocal opinions out of sight. Mr. Malone is likewise solicitous to prove, from the wildness and irregularity of the fable, &c. that this was either our author's first, or one of his earliest dramas. It might have been so; and yet I am sorry to observe that the same qualities predominate in his more mature performances; but there these defects are instrumental in producing beauties. If we travel in Antony and Cleopatra from Alexandria to Rome—to Messina—into Syria—to Athens—to Actium, we are still relieved in the course of our peregrinations by variety of objects, and importance of events. But are we rewarded in the same manner for our journeys from Antioch to Tyre, from Tyre to Pentapolis, from Pentapolis to Tharsus, from Tharsus to Tyre, from Tyre to Mitylene, and from Mitylene to Ephesus?—In one light, indeed, I am ready to allow Pericles was our poet's first attempt. Before he was satisfied with his own strength, and trusted himself to the publick, he might have tried his hand with a partner, and entered the theatre in disguise. Before he ventured to face an audience on the stage, it was natural that he should peep at them through the curtain. What Mr. Malone has called the inequalities of the poetry, I should rather term the patchwork of the style, in which the general flow of Shakspeare is not often visible. An unwearied blaze of words, like that which burns throughout Phædra and Hippolitus, and Mariamne, is never attempted by our author; for such uniformity could be maintained but by keeping nature at a distance. Inequality and wildness, therefore, cannot be received as criterions by which we are to distinguish the early pieces of Shakspeare from those which were written at a latter period. But one peculiarity relative to the complete genuineness of this play, has hitherto been disregarded, though in my opinion it is absolutely decisive. I shall not hesitate to affirm, that through different parts of Pericles, there are more frequent and more aukward ellipses than occur in all the other dramas attributed to the same author; and that these figures of speech appear only in such worthless portions of the dialogue as cannot with justice be imputed to him. Were the play the work of any single hand, or had it been corrupted only by a printer, it is natural to suppose that this clipped jargon would have been scattered over it with equality. Had it been the composition of our great poet, he would be found to have availed himself of the same licence in his other tragedies; nor perhaps, would an individual writer have called the same characters and places alternately Per&ishort;cles and Per&ibar;cles, Tha&ishort;sa and Tha&ibar;sa, Pentap&oshort;lis and Pentap&obar;lis. Shakspeare never varies the quantity of his proper names in the compass of one play. In Cymbeline we always meet with Posth&ubar;mus, not Posth&ushort;mus, Arvir&abar;gus, and not Arvir&ashort;gus. It may appear singular that I have hitherto laid no stress on such parallels between the acknowledged plays of Shakspeare and Pericles, as are produced in the course of our preceding illustrations. But perhaps any argument that could be derived from so few of these, ought not to be decisive; for the same reasoning might tend to prove that every little piece of coincidence of thought and expression, is in reality one of the petty larcenies of literature; and thus we might in the end impeach the original merit of those whom we ought not to suspect of having need to borrow from their predecessors* [Subnote: *Dr. Johnson once assured me, that when he wrote his Irene he had never read Othello; but meeting with it soon afterwards, was surprized to find he had given one of his characters a speech very strongly resembling that in which Cassio describes the effects produced by Desdemona's beauty on such inanimate objects as the gutter'd rocks and congregated sands. The Doctor added, that on making the discovery, for fear of imputed plagiarism, he struck out this accidental coincidence from his own tragedy.] . I can only add on this subject, (like Dr. Farmer) that the world is already possessed of the Marks of Imitation; and that there is scarce one English tragedy but bears some slight internal resemblance to another. I therefore attempt no deduction from premises occasionally fallacious, nor pretend to discover in the piece before us the draughts of scenes which were afterwards more happily wrought, or the slender and crude principles of ideas which on other occasions were dilated into consequence, or polished into lustre† [Subnote: †Though I admit that a small portion of general and occasional relations may pass unsuspected from the works of one author into those of another, yet when multitudes of minute coincidences occur, they must have owed their introduction to contrivance and design. The surest and least equivocal marks of imitation (says Dr. Hurd) are to be found in peculiarities of phrase and diction; and identity in both, is the most certain note of plagiarism. This observation inclines me to offer a few words in regard to Shakspeare's imputed share in The Two Noble Kinsmen. On Mr. Pope's opinion relative to this subject, no great reliance can be placed; for he who reprobated The Winter's Tale as a performance alien to Shakspeare, could boast of little acquaintance with the spirit or manner of the author whom he undertook to correct and explain. Dr. Warburton (vol. i. after the table of editions) expresses a belief that our great poet wrote “the first Act, but in his worst manner.” The Doctor indeed only seems to have been ambitious of adding somewhat (though at random) to the decision of his predecessor. Mr. Seward's enquiry into the authenticity of this piece, has been fully examined by Mr. Colman, who adduces several arguments to prove that our author had no concern in it. [See Beaumont and Fletcher, last edit. vol. i. p. 118.] Mr. Colman might have added more to the same purpose; but, luckily for the publick, his pen is always better engaged than in critical and antiquarian disquisitions. As Dr. Farmer has advanced but little on the present occasion, I confess my inability to determine the point on which his conclusion is founded. This play, however, was not printed till eighteen years after the death of Shakspeare; and its title-page carries all the air of a canting bookseller's imposition. Would any one else have thought it necessary to tell the world, that Fletcher and his pretended coadjutor, were “memorable worthies?” The piece too was printed for one John Waterson, a man who had no copy-right in any of our author's other dramas. It was equally unknown to the editors in 1623, and 1632; and was rejected by those in 1664, and 1685.—In 1661, Kirkman, another knight of the rubrick post, issued out The Birth of Merlin, by Rowley and Shakspeare. Are we to receive a part of this also as a genuine work of the latter? for the authority of Kirkman is as respectable as that of Waterson. —I may add, as a similar instance of the craft or ignorance of these ancient Curls, that in 1640, the Coronation, claimed by Shirley, was printed in Fletcher's name, and (I know not why) is still permitted to hold a place among his other dramas. That Shakspeare had the slightest connection with B. and Fletcher, has not been proved by evidence of any kind. There are no verses written by either in his commendation; but they both stand convicted of having aimed their ridicule at passages in several of his plays. His imputed intimacy with one of them, is therefore unaccountable. Neither are the names of our great confederates enrolled with those of other wits who frequented the literary symposia held at the Devil Tavern in Fleet Street. As they were gentlemen of family and fortune, it is probable that they aspired to company of a higher rank than that of needy poets, or mercenary players. Their dialogue bears abundant testimony to this supposition; while Shakspeare's attempts to exhibit such spritely conversations as pass between young men of elegance and fashion, are very rare, and almost confined (as Dr. Johnson remarks) to the characters of Mercutio and his associates. Our author could not easily copy what he had few opportunities of observing.—So much for the unlikeliness of Fletcher's having united with Shakspeare in the same composition. But here it may be asked—why was the name of our poet joined with that of Beaumont's coadjutor in The Two Noble Kinsmen, rather than in any other play of the same author that so long remained in manuscript? I answer,—that this event might have taken its rise from the playhouse tradition mentioned by Pope, and founded, as I conceive, on a singular occurrence, which it is my present office to point out and illustrate to my readers. The language and images of this piece coincide perpetually with those in the dramas of Shakspeare. The same frequency of coincidence occurs in no other individual of Fletcher's works; and how is so material a distinction to be accounted for? Did Shakspeare assist the survivor of Beaumont in his tragedy? Surely no; for if he had, he would not (to borrow a conceit from Moth in Love's Labour's Lost) have written as if he had been at a great feast of tragedies, and stolen the scraps, It was natural that he should more studiously have abstained from the use of marked expressions in this than in any other of his pieces written without assistance. He cannot be suspected of so pitiful an ambition as that of setting his seal on the portions he wrote, to distinguish them from those of his colleague. It was his business to coalesce with Fletcher, and not to withdraw from him. But, were our author convicted of this jealous artifice, let me ask where we are to look for any single dialogue in which these lines of separation are not drawn. If they are to be regarded as landmarks to ascertain our author's property, they stand so constantly in our way, that we must adjudge the whole literary estate to him. I hope no one will be found who supposes our duumvirate sat down to correct what each other wrote. To such an indignity Fletcher could not well have submitted; and such a drudgery Shakspeare would as hardly have endured. In Pericles it is no difficult task to discriminate the scenes in which the hand of the latter is evident. I say again, let the critick try if the same undertaking is as easy in The Two Noble Kinsmen. The style of Fletcher on other occasions is sufficiently distinct from Shakspeare's, though it may mix more intimately with that of Beaumont: &GROrg;&grst; &grt;&grap; &gras;&grp;&gro;&grk;&gri;&grd;&grn;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grst; &grp;&gro;&grt;&gra;&grm;&gro;&gru; &grk;&gre;&grl;&gra;&grd;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grst; &grA;&grr;&graa;&grc;&gre;&grw; &grF;&graa;&grs;&gri;&grd;&gri; &grs;&gru;&grm;&grf;&grea;&grr;&gre;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grir;&gre;&grr;&grog;&grn; &grr;&groa;&gro;&grn;. Apol. Rhod. From loud Araxes Lycus' streams divide, But roll with Phasis in a blended tide. But, that my assertions relative to coincidence may not appear without some support, I proceed to insert a few of many instances that might be brought in aid of an opinion which I am ready to subjoin.—The first passage hereafter quoted is always from the Two Noble Kinsmen, edit. 1750. 1 &lblank; Dear glass of ladies. P. 9. vol. x. 2 &lblank; he was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youths did dress themselves. King Henry IV. P. II. 1 &lblank; blood-siz'd field &lblank; P. 9. 2 &lblank; o'er-sized with coagulate gore. Hamlet. 1 &lblank; as ospreys do the fish, Subdue before they touch. P. 11. 2 &lblank; as is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. Coriolanus. 1 His ocean needs not my poor drops. P. 20. 2 &lblank; as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on a myrtle leaf To his grand sea. Antony and Cleopatra. 1 Their intertangled roots of love. P. 22. 2 &lblank; Grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together. Cymbeline. 1 Lord, lord, the difference of men! P. 30. 2 O, the difference of man and man. King Lear. 1 Like lazy clouds &lblank;. P. 30. 2 &lblank; the lazy-pacing clouds &lblank;. Romeo and Juliet. 1 &lblank; the angry swine Flies like a Parthian. P. 31. 2 Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight. Cymbeline. Mr. Seward observes that this comparison occurs no where in Shakspeare. 1 Banish'd the kingdom, &c. &lblank; P. 41. 2 See the speech of Romeo on the same occasion. Romeo and Juliet. 1 He has a tongue will tame Tempests &lblank;. P. 42. 2 &lblank; she would sing the savageness out of a bear. Othello. 1 Theseus.] To-morrow, by the sun, to do observance To flowery May. P. 47. 2 Theseus.] &lblank; they rose up early to observe The rite of May. Midsummer-Night's Dream. 1 Let all the dukes and all the devils roar, He is at liberty &lblank;. P. 48. 2 And if the devil come and roar for them, He shall not have them. King Henry IV. P. I. 1 &lblank; in thy rumination That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between. P. 50. 2 &lblank; Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd! Hamlet. 1 Dear cousin Palamon &lblank; Pal. Cozener Arcite. P. 51. 2 &lblank; Gentle Harry Percy, and kind cousin, &lblank; The devil take such cozeners. King Henry IV. P. I. 1 &lblank; this question, sick between us, By bleeding must be cur'd. P. 54. 2 Let's purge this choler without letting blood. K. Richard II. 1 &lblank; swim with your body, And carry it sweetly &lblank;. P. 61. 2 Bear your body more seemly, Audrey. As You Like It. 1 And dainty duke whose doughty dismal fame. P. 64. 2 Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade. Midsummer-Night's Dream. 1 &lblank; And then she sung Nothing but willow, willow &lblank;. P. 79. 2 &lblank; sing willow, willow &lblank;. Othello. 1 O who can find the bent of woman's fancy! P. 84. 2 O undistinguish'd space of woman's will! King Lear. 1 &lblank; like the great-ey'd Juno's, but far sweeter. P. 84. 2 &lblank; sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. The Winter's Tale. 1 &lblank; better, o' my conscience, Was never soldier's friend. P. 86. 2 A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh. Othello. 1 &lblank; his tongue Sounds like a trumpet. P. 87. 2 Would plead like angels trumpet-tongued. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; this would shew bravely, Fighting about the titles of two kingdoms. P. 89. 2 &lblank; such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Hamlet. 1 Look where she comes! you shall perceive her behaviour. P. 89. 2 Lo you where she comes! This is her very guise. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; the burden on't was down-a down-a. P. 90. 2 You must sing down-a down-a: oh how the wheel becomes it! Hamlet. 1 How her brain coins! &lblank; P. 90. 2 This is the very coinage of your brain. Hamlet. 1 Doctor.] &lblank; not an engrafted madness, but a most thick and profound melancholy &lblank;. p. 91. 2 Doctor.] &lblank; not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies &lblank;. Macbeth. 1 Doctor. I think she has a perturbed mind, which I cannot minister to. P. 91. 2 &lblank; perturbed spirit! Hamlet. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd? Doctor. &lblank; therein the patient Must minister to himself. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; to him that makes the camp a cistern Brim'd with the blood of men. P. 94. 2 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit Up to the ears in blood. King Henry IV. P. I. 1 &lblank; hast turn'd Green Neptune into purple. P. 94. 2 &lblank; the multitudinous seas incarnardine, Making the green one red. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; lover, never yet Made truer sigh &lblank;. P. 98. 2 &lblank; never man Sigh'd truer breath. Coriolanus. 1 &lblank; arms in assurance My body to this business. P. 99. 2 &lblank; bends up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; thy female knights &lblank;. P. 99. 1 &lblank; thy virgin knight. Much Ado About Nothing. 1 &lblank; with that thy rare green eye &lblank;. P. 99. 2 Hath not so quick, so green, so fair an eye. Romeo and Juliet. His eyes were green as leeks. Midsummer-Night's Dream. 1 His costliness of spirit look'd through him. P. 110. 2 Your spirits shine through you. Macbeth. 1 &lblank; to dis-seat his lord. P. 114. 2 &lblank; or dis-seat me now. Macbeth. N. B. I have met with no other instances of the use of this word. 1 Disroot his rider whence he grew. P. 115. 2 This gallant grew unto his seat. Hamlet. 1 And bear us like the time. P. 117. 2 &lblank; to beguile the time, Look like the time. Macbeth. It will happen, on familiar occasions, that diversity of expression is neither worth seeking, or easy to be found; as in the following instances: Cer. Look to the lady. Pericles. Macd. Look to the lady. Macbeth. Cap. Look to the bak'd meats. Romeo and Juliet. Pal. Look to thy life well, Arcite! Two Noble Kinsmen. Dion. How chance my daughter is not with you? Pericles. K. Hen. How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother? King Henry IV. Part II. Dion. How now, Marina? why do you keep alone? Pericles. Lady Macb. How now, my lord? why do you keep alone? Macbeth. Coun. &lblank; have with you, boys! Two Noble Kinsmen. Bel. Have with you, Boys! Cymbeline. Daugh. Yours to command, i' th' way of honesty. Two Noble Kinsmen. Faulc. For I was got i' th' way of honesty. King John. Thal. &lblank; if I can get him within my pistol's length. Pericles. Phang. &lblank; an if he come but within my vice. King Henry IV. P. II. All such examples I have abstained from producing; but the peculiar coincidence of many among those already given, suffers much by their not being viewed in their natural situations. Let the criticks who can fix on any particular scenes which they conceive to have been written by Shakspeare, or let those who suppose him to have been so poor in language as well as ideas, that he was constrained to borrow in the compass of half the Noble Kinsmen from above a dozen entire plays of his own composition, advance some hypothesis more plausible than the following; and yet I flatter myself that readers may be found who will concur with me in believing this tragedy to have been written by Fletcher in silent imitation of our author's manner. No other circumstance could well have occasioned such a frequent occurrence of corresponding phrases, &c,; nor, in my opinion, could any particular, but this, have induced the players to propagate the report, that our author was Fletcher's coadjutor in the piece.— There is nothing unusual in these attempts at imitation. Dryden, in his preface to All for Love, professes to copy the style of Shakspeare. Rowe, in his Jane Shore, arrogates to himself the merit of having pursued the same plan. How far these poets have succeeded, it is not my present business to examine; but Fletcher's imitation, like that of many other, is chiefly verbal; and yet (when joined with other circumstances) was perfect enough to have misled the judgment of the players. Those people, who in the course of their profession must have had much of Shakspeare's language recent in their memories, could easily discover traces of it in this performance. They could likewise observe that the drama opens with the same characters as first enter in A Midsummer-Night's Dream; that Clowns exert themselves for the entertainment of Theseus in both; that a pedagogue likewise directs the sports in Love's Labour's Lost; that a character of female frenzy, copied from Ophelia, is notorious in The Jailor's Daughter: and that this girl, like Lady Macbeth, is attended by a physician who describes the difficulties of her case, and comments on it, in almost similar terms. They might therefore conclude that the play before us was in part a production of the same writer. Over this line, the criticks behind the scenes were unable to proceed. Their sagacity was insufficient to observe that the general current of the style was even throughout the whole, and bore no marks of a divided hand. Hence perhaps the sol geminus and duplices Thebæ of these very incompetent judges, who, like staunch match-makers, were desirous that the widow'd muse of Fletcher should not long remain without a bed-fellow. Lest it should be urged that one of my arguments against Shakspeare's co-operation in The Two Noble Kinsmen would equally militate against his share in Pericles, it becomes necessary for me to ward off any objection to that purpose, by remarking that the circumstances attendant on these two dramas are by no means exactly parallel. Shakspeare probably furnished his share in the latter at an early period of his authorship, and afterwards (having never owned it, or supposing it to be forgotten) was willing to profit by the most valuable lines and ideas it contained. But he would scarce have been considered himself as an object of imitation, before he had reached his meridian fame; and in my opinion, The Noble Kinsmen could not have been composed till after 1611, nor perhaps antecedent to the deaths of Beaumont and our author, when assistance and competition ceased, and the poet who resembled the latter most, had the fairest prospect of success. During the life of Beaumont, which concluded in 1615, it cannot well be supposed that Fletcher would have deserted him, to write in concert with any other dramatist. Shakspeare survived Beaumont only by one year, and, during that time, is known to have lived in Warwickshire, beyond the reach of Fletcher, who continued to reside in London till he fell a sacrifice to the plague in 1625; so that there was no opportunity for them to have joined in personal conference relative to The Two Noble Kinsmen; and without frequent interviews between confederate writers, a consistent tragedy can hardly be produced. Yet such precautions will be sometimes inefficient in producing conformity of plan, even when confederate writers are within reach of each other. Thus, Dryden, in the third Act of Oedipus, has made Tiresias say to the Theban monarch: “&lblank; if e'er we meet again, 'twill be “In mutual darkness; we shall feel before us “To reach each other's hand &lblank;.” But, alas! for want of adverting to this speech, Lee has counteracted it in the fourth Act, where Tiresias has another interview with Oedipus before the extinction of his eyes, a circumstance that does not take place till the fifth Act. But, at whatever time of Shakspeare's life Pericles was brought forth, it will not be found on examination to comprize a fifth part of the coincidences which may be detected in its successor; neither will a tenth division of the same relations be discovered in any one of his thirty-five dramas which have hitherto been published together. To conclude, it is peculiarly apparent that this tragedy of The Two Noble Kinsmen was printed from a prompter's copy, as it exhibits such stage-directions as I do not remember to have seen in any other drama of the same period. We may likewise take notice that there are fewer hemistiches in it than in any of Shakspeare's acknowledged productions. If one speech concludes with an imperfect verse, the next in general completes it. This is some indication of a writer more studious of neatness in composition than the pretended associate of Fletcher. In the course of my investigation I am pleased to find I differ but on one occasion from Mr. Colman; and that is, in my disbelief that Beaumont had any share in this tragedy. The utmost beauties it contains, were within the reach of Fletcher, who has a right to wear, “Without corrival, all his dignities: “But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!” because there is no just reason for supposing any poet but Chaucer has a right to dispute with him the reputation which the tale of Palamon and Arcite has so long and so indisputably maintained.] . Not that such a kind of evidence, however strong, or however skilfully applied, would divest my former arguments of their weight; for I admit without reserve that Shakspeare, “&lblank; whose hopeful colours “Advance a half-fac'd sun striving to shine.” is visible in many scenes throughout the play. But it follows not from thence that he is answerable for its worst part, though the best it contains may be, not dishonourably, imputed to him. Both weeds and flowers appear in the same parterre, yet we do not infer from their being found together, that they were planted by the same hand. Were I disposed, with controversial wantonness, to reason against conviction, I might add, that as Shakspeare is known to have borrowed whole speeches from the authors of Darius, King John, the Taming of a Shrew, &c. as well as from novellists and historians without number, so he might be suspected of having taken lines, and hints for future situations, from the play of Pericles, supposing it were the work of a writer somewhat more early than himself. Such splendid passages occur in the scenes of his contemporaries, as have not disgraced his own: and be it remembered, that many things which we at present are content to reckon only among the adoptions of our great poet, had been long regarded as his own proper effusions, and were as constantly enumerated among his distinguished beauties. No verses have been more frequently quoted, or more loudly applauded than those beginning with “The cloud-capt towers” in The Tempest; but if our positions relative to the date of that play are well founded, Shakspeare's share in this celebrated account of nature's dissolution, is very inconsiderable. To conclude, the play of Pericles was in all probability the composition of some friend whose interest the “gentle Shakspeare” was industrious to promote. He therefore improved his dialogue in many places; and knowing by experience that the strength of a dramatick piece should be augmented towards its catastrophe, was most liberal of his aid in the last Act. We cannot be surprised to find that what he has supplied is of a different colour from the rest: Scinditur in partes, geminoque cacumine surgit, Thebanos imitata rogos; for, like Beaumont, he was not writing in conjunction with a Fetcher. Mr. Malone has asked how it happens that no memorial of an earlier drama on the subject of Pericles remains. I shall only answer by another question—Why is it the fate of still-born infants to be soon forgotten? In the rummage of some mass of ancient pamphlets and papers, the first of these two productions may hereafter make its appearance. The chance that preserved The Witch of Middleton, may at some distant period establish my general opinion concerning the authenticity of Pericles, which is already strengthened by those of Rowe and Dr. Farmer, and countenanced in some degree by the omission of Heminge and Condell. I was once disposed to entertain very different sentiments concerning the authority of title-pages; but on my mended judgment (if I offend not to say it is mended) I have found sufficient reason to change my creed, and confess the folly of advancing much on a question which I had not more than cursorily considered.—To this I must subjoin, that perhaps our author produced The Winter's Tale at the distance of several years from the time at which he corrected Pericles; and, for reasons hinted at in a preceding page, or through a forgetfulness common to all writers, repeated a few of the identical phrases and ideas which he had already used in that and other dramas. I have formerly observed in a note on King Lear, (see vol. x. p. 281, n. 8,) that Shakspeare has appropriated the same sentiment, in nearly the same words, to Justice Shallow, King Lear, and Othello; and may now add, that I find another allusion as nearly expressed in five different places: “I'd strip myself to death, as for a bed “That longing I'd been sick for.” Measure for Measure. “I will encounter darkness like a bride, “And hug it in, my arms.” Ibidem. “&lblank; I will be “A bridegroom in my death, and run unto't “As to a lover's bed.” Antony and Cleopatra. “I will die bravely like a bridgegroom.” King Lear. “&lblank; in terms like bride and groom “Devesting them for bed.” Othello. The degree of credit due to the title-page of this tragedy is but very inconsiderable. It is not mentioned by Meres in 1598; but that Shakspeare was known to have had some hand in it, was sufficient reason why the whole should be fathered on him. The name of the original writer could have promoted a bookseller's purpose in but an inferior degree. In the year 1611, one of the same fraternity attempted to obtrude on the publick the old King John (in Dr. Farmer's opinion written by Rowley) as the work of our celebrated author. But we are told with confidence, that “Shakspeare's own muse his Pericles first bore, “The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor.” To the testimony of Dryden respect is always due, when he speaks of things within the compass of his own knowledge. But on the present occasion he could only take report, or a title-page, for his guide; and seems to have preferred smoothness of versification to preciseness of expression. His meaning is completely given in the second line of his couplet. In both, he designs to say no more than that Shakspeare himself did not rise to excellence in his first plays; but that Pericles, one of the weakest imputed to him, was written before Othello, which is generally regarded as the most vigorous of his productions; that of these two pieces, Pericles was the first. Dryden in all probability met with it in the folio edition, 1664, and enquired no further concerning its authenticity. The birth of his friend Sir William D'Avenant happened in 1605, at least ten years below the date of this contested drama* [Subnote: *Shakspeare died in 1616; and it is hardly probable that his godson, (a lad about ten years old) instead of searching his pockets for apples, should have enquired of him concerning the dates of his theatrical performances. It is not much more likely that afterwards, in an age devoid of literary curiosity, Sir William should have been solicitous about this circumstance, or met with any person who was capable of ascertaining it. If it be urged against this opinion, that most of the players contemporary with Shakspeare, were yet alive, and from that quarter Sir William's information might have been derived, I answer,—from those who were at the head of their fraternity while our author flourished, he could not have received it. Had they known that Pericles was the entire composition of our great poet, they would certainly have printed it among his other works in the folio 1623.—Is it likely that any of our ancient histrionick troop were better acquainted with the incunabula of Shakspeare's Muse, than the very people whose intimate connection with him is marked by his last will, in which he calls them—“his fellows John Hemynge, and Henry Condell?”] . The abuse of J. Tatham would have deserved no reply, had it not been raised into consequence by its place in Mr. Malone's Preliminary Observations. I think it therefore but justice to observe, that this obscure wretch who calls our author a “plebeian driller,” (droller I suppose he meant to say,) has thereby bestowed on him a portion of involuntary applause. Because Horace has pronounced that he who pleases the great is not entitled to the lowest of encomiums, are we therefore to infer that the man who has given delight to the vulgar, has no claim also to his dividend of praise?—interdum vulgus rectum videt. It is the peculiar merit of Shakspeare's scenes, that they are generally felt and understood. The tumid conceits of modern tragedy communicate no sensations to the highest or the meanest rank. Sentimental comedy is not much more fortunate in its efforts. But can the period be pointed out in which King Lear and The Merry Wives of Windsor did not equally entertain those who fill the boxes and the gallery, primores populi, populumque tributim? Before I close this enquiry, which has swelled into an unexpected bulk, let me ask, whose opinion confers most honour on Shakspeare, my opponent's or mine? Mr. Malone is desirous that his favourite poet should be regarded as the sole author of a drama which, collectively taken, is unworthy of him. I only wish the reader to adopt a more moderate creed, that the purpurei panni are Shakspeare's, and the rest the productions of some inglorious and forgotten play-wright. If consistently with my real belief I could have supported instead of controverting the sentiments of this gentleman, whom I have the honour to call my friend, I should have been as happy in doing so as I now am in confessing my literary obligations to him, and acknowledging how often in the course of the preceding volumes he has supplied my deficiences, and rectified my errors. On the whole, were the intrinsick merits of Pericles yet less than they are, it would be entitled to respect among the curious in dramatick literature. As the engravings of Mark Antonio are valuable not only on account of their beauty, but because they are supposed to have been executed under the eye of Raffaelle, so Pericles will continue to owe some part of its reputation to the touches it is said to have received from the hand of Shakspeare. To the popularity of the Prince of Tyre (which is sufficiently evident from the testimonies referred to by Mr. Malone) we may impute the unprecedented corruptions in its text. What was acted frequently, must have been frequently transcribed for the use of prompters and players; and through the medium of such faithless copies it should seem that most of our early theatrical pieces were transmitted to the publick. There are certainly more gross mistakes in this than in any other tragedy attributed to Shakspeare. Indeed so much of it, as hitherto printed, was absolutely unintelligible, that the reader had no power to judge of the rank it ought to hold among our ancient dramatick performances. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's intimate acquaintance with the writings of Shakspeare renders him so well qualified to decide upon this question, that it is not without some distrust of my own judgment that I express my dissent from his decision; but as all the positions that he has endeavoured to establish in his ingenious disquisition on the merits and authenticity of Pericles do not appear to me to have equal weight, I shall shortly state the reasons why I cannot subscribe to his opinion with regard to this long-contested piece. The imperfect imitation of the language and numbers of Gower, which is found in the choruses of this play, is not in my apprehension a proof that they were not written by Shakspeare. To summon a person from the grave, and to introduce him by way of Chorus to the drama, appears to have been no uncommon practice with our author's contemporaries. Marlowe, before the time of Shakspeare, had in this way introduced Machiavel in his Jew of Malta; and his countryman Guicciardine is brought upon the stage in an ancient tragedy called The Devil's Charter. In the same manner Rainulph, the monk of Chester, appears in The Mayor of Quinborough, written by Thomas Middleton. Yet it never has been objected to the authors of the two former pieces, as a breach of decorum, that the Italians whom they have brought into the scene do not speak the language of their own country; or to the writer of the latter, that the monk whom he has introduced does not use the English dialect of the age in which he lived.—But it may be said, “nothing of this kind is attempted by these poets; the author of Pericles, on the other hand, has endeavoured to copy the versification of Gower, and has failed in the attempt: had this piece been the composition of Shakspeare, he would have succeeded.” I shall very readily acknowledge, that Shakspeare, if he had thought fit, could have exhibited a tolerably accurate imitation of the language of Gower; for there can be little doubt, that what has been effected by much inferior writers, he with no great difficulty could have accomplished. But that, because these choruses do not exhibit such an imitation, they were therefore not his performance, does not appear to me a necessary conclusion; for he might not think such an imitation proper for a popular audience. Gower, like the persons above mentioned, would probably have been suffered to speak the same language as the other characters in this piece, had he not written a poem containing the very story on which the play is formed. Like Guicciardine and the monk of Chester, he is called up to superintend a relation found in one of his own performances. Hence, Shakspeare seems to have thought it proper (not, to copy his versification, for that does not appear to have been at all in his thoughts, but) to throw a certain air of antiquity over the monologues which he has attributed to the venerable bard. Had he imitated the diction of the Confessio Amantis with accuracy, he well knew that it would have been as unintelligible to the greater part of his audience as the Italian of Guicciardine or the Latin of Rainulph; for, I suppose, there can be no doubt, that the language of Gower (which is almost as far removed from that of Hooker and Fairfax, as it is from the prose of Addison or the poetry of Pope,) was understood by none but scholars* [Subnote: *Perhaps not by all of them. The treasures of Greece and Rome had not long been discovered, and to the study of ancient languages almost every Englishman that aspired to literary reputation applied his talents and his time, while his native tongue was neglected. Even the learned Ascham was but little acquainted with the language of the age immediately preceding his own. If scholars were defective in this respect, the people, we may be sure, were much more so.] , even in the time of Queen Elizabeth. Having determined to introduce the contemporary of Chaucer in the scene, it was not his business to exhibit so perfect an imitation of his diction as perhaps with assiduity and study he might have accomplished, but such an antiquated style as might be understood by the people before whom his play was to be represented† [Subnote: †If I am warranted in supposing that the language of the Confessio Amantis would have been unintelligible to the audience, this surely was a sufficient reason for departing from it.] . As the language of these choruses is, in my opinion, insufficient to prove that they were not the production of Shakspeare, so also is the inequality of metre which may be observed in different parts of them; for the same inequality is found in the lyrical parts of Macbeth and A Midsummer-Night's Dream. It may likewise be remarked, that as in Pericles, so in many of our author's early performances, alternate rhymes frequently occur; a practice which I have not observed in any other dramatick performances of that age, intended for publick representation* [Subnote: *The plays of Lord Sterline are entirely in alternate rhymes; but these seem not to have been intended for the stage, nor were they, I believe, ever performed in any theatre.] . Before I quit the subject of the choruses introduced in this piece, let me add, that, like many other parts of this play, they contain some marked expressions, certain ardentia verba, that are also found in the undisputed works of our great poet; which any one who will take the trouble to compare them with the choruses in King Henry V. and The Winter's Tale, will readily perceive. If, in order to account for the similitude, it shall be said, that though Shakspeare did not compose these declamations of Gower, he might have retouched them, as that is a point which never can be ascertained, so no answer can be given to it. That the play of Pericles was originally written by another poet, and afterwards improved by Shakspeare, I do not see sufficient reason to believe. It may be true, that all which the improver of a dramatick piece originally ill-constructed can do, is, to polish the language, and to add a few splendid passages; but that this play was the work of another, which Shakspeare from his friendship for the author revised and corrected, is the very point in question, and therefore cannot be adduced as a medium to prove that point. It appears to me equally improbable that Pericles was formed on an unsuccessful drama of a preceding period; and that all the weaker scenes are taken from thence. We know indeed that it was a frequent practice of our author to avail himself of the labours of others, and to construct a new drama upon an old foundation; but the pieces that he has thus imitated are yet extant. We have an original Taming of a Shrew, a King John, a Promos and Cassandra, a King Leir, &c. but where is this old play of Pericles† [Subnote: †When Ben Jonson calls Pericles a mouldy tale, he alludes, I apprehend, not to the remote date of the play, but to the antiquity of the story on which it is founded.] ? or how comes it to pass that no memorial of such a drama remains? Even if it could be proved that such a piece once existed, it would not warrant us in supposing that the less vigorous parts of the performance in question were taken from thence; for though Shakspeare borrowed the fables of the ancient dramas just now enumerated, he does not appear to have transcribed a single scene from any one of them. Still, however, it may be urged, if Shakspeare was the original author of this play, and this was one of his earliest productions, he would scarcely, at a subsequent period, have introduced in his Winter's Tale some incidents and expressions which bear a strong resemblance to the latter part of Pericles: on the other hand, he might not scruple to copy the performance of a preceding poet. Before we acquiesce in the justice of this reasoning, let us examine what has been his practice in those dramas concerning the authenticity of which there is no doubt. Is it true that Shakspeare has rigidly abstained from introducing incidents or characters similar to those which he had before brought upon the stage? Or rather, is not the contrary notorious? In Much Ado About Nothing the two principal persons of the drama frequently remind us of two other characters that had been exhibited in an early production,—Love's Labour's Lost. In All's Well That Ends Well and Measure for Measure we find the same artifice twice employed: and in many other of his plays the action is embarrassed, and the denouement affected, by contrivances that bear a striking similitude to each other. The conduct of Pericles and The Winter's Tale, which have several events common to both, gives additional weight to the supposition that the two pieces proceeded from the same hand. In the latter our author has thrown the discovery of Perdita into narration, as if through consciousness of having already exhausted, in the business of Marina, all that could render such an incident affecting on the stage. Leontes too says but little to Hermione, when he finds her; their mutual situations having been likewise anticipated by the Prince of Tyre and Thaisa, who had before amply expressed the transports natural to unexpected meeting after long and painful separation. All the objections which are founded on the want of liaison between the different parts of this piece, on the numerous characters introduced in it, not sufficiently connected with each other, on the various and distant countries in which the scene is laid,—may, I think, be answered, by saying that the author pursued the story exactly as he found it either in the Confessio Amantis* [Subnote: *Here also were found the names of the greater part of the characters introduced in this play; for of the seventeen persons represented, six of the names only were the invention of the poet. The same quantity not being uniformly observed in some of these names, is mentioned by Mr. Steevens as a proof that this piece was the production of two hands. We find however Thaisa and Thaiïsa in the fifth Act, in two succeeding lines. Is it to be imagined, that this play was written like French Bouts Rimées, and that as soon as one verse was composed by one of this supposed duumvirate, the next was written by his associate?] or some prose translation of the Gesta Romanorum; a practice which Shakspeare is known to have followed in many plays, and to which most of the faults that have been urged against his dramas may be imputed* [Subnote: *In the conduct of Measure for Measure his judgment has been arraigned for certain deviations from the Italian of Cinthio, in one of whose novels the story on which the play is built, may be read. But, on examination, it has been found, that the faults of the piece are to be attributed not to Shakspeare's departing from, but too closely pursuing his original, which, as Dr. Farmer has observed, was not Cinthio's novel, but the Heptameron of Whetstone. In like manner the catastrophe of Romeo and Juliet is rendered less affecting than it might have been made, by the author's having implicitly followed the poem of Romeus and Juliet, on which his play appears to have been formed. In The Winter's Tale, Bohemia, situated nearly in the centre of Europe, is described as a maritime country, because it had been already described as such by Robert Greene in his Dorastus and Faunia; and in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Proteus goes from one inland town to another by sea; a voyage that in some novel he had probably taken before. Many similar instances might be added.] .—If while we travel in Antony and Cleopatra† [Subnote: †It is observable that the two plays of Pericles and Antony and Cleopatra were entered together at Stationers' Hall in the year 1608, by Edward Blount, a bookseller of eminence, and one of the printers of the first folio edition of our author's works.] from one country to another with no less rapidity than in the present piece, the objects presented to us are more beautiful, and the prospect more diversified, let it be remembered, at the same time, that between the composition of these plays there was probably an interval of at least fifteen years; that even Shakspeare himself must have gradually acquired information like other mortals, and in that period must have gained a knowledge of many characters, and various modes of life, with which in his earlier years he was unacquainted. If this play had come down to us in the state in which the poet left it, its numerous ellipses might fairly be urged to invalidate Shakspeare's claim to the whole or to any part of it. But the argument that is founded in these irregularities of the style loses much of its weight, when it is considered, that the earliest printed copy appears in so imperfect a form, that there is scarcely a single page of it undisfigured by the grossest corruptions. As many words have been inserted, inconsistent not only with the author's meaning, but with any meaning whatsoever, as many verses appear to have been transposed, and some passages are appropriated to characters to whom manifestly they do not belong, so there is great reason to believe that many words and even lines were omitted at the press; and it is highly probable that the printer is answerable for more of these ellipses than the poet. The same observation may be extended to the metre, which might have been originally sufficiently smooth and harmonious, though now, notwithstanding the editor's best care, it is feared it will be found in many places rugged and defective. On the appearance of Shakspeare's name in the title page of the original edition of Pericles, it is acknowledged no great stress can be laid; for by the knavery of printers or booksellers it has been likewise affixed to two pieces, of which it may be doubted whether a single line was written by our author. However, though the name of Shakspeare may not alone authenticate this play, it is not in the scale of evidence entirely insignificant; nor is it a fair conclusion, that, because we are not to confide in the title-pages of two dramas which are proved by the whole colour of the style and many other considerations not to have been the composition of Shakspeare, we are therefore to give no credit to the title of a piece, which we are led by very strong internal proof, and by many corroborating circumstances, to attribute to him. Though the title-pages of The London Prodigal and Sir John Oldcastle should clearly appear to be forgeries, those of Henry IV. and Othello will still remain unimpeached. The non-enumeration of Pericles in Meres's Catalogue of our author's plays, printed in 1598, is undecisive with respect to the authenticity of this piece; for neither are the three parts of King Henry VI. nor Hamlet mentioned in that list; though it is certain they were written, and had been publickly performed, before his book was published. Why this drama was omitted in the first edition of Shakspeare's works, it is impossible now to ascertain. But if we shall allow the omission to be a decisive proof that it was not the composition of our author, we must likewise exclude Troilus and Cressida from the list of his performances: for it is certain, this was likewise omitted by the editors of the first folio, nor did they see their error till the whole work and even the table of contents was printed; as appears from its not being paged, or enumerated in that table with his other plays. I do not, however, suppose that the editors, Heminge and Condell, did not know who was the writer of Troilus and Cressida, but that the piece, though printed some years before, for a time escaped their memory. The same may be said of Pericles. Why this also was not recovered, as well as the other, we can now only conjecture. Perhaps they thought their volume had already swelled to a sufficient size, and they did not choose to run the risk of retarding the sale of it by encreasing its bulk and price; perhaps they did not recollect The Prince of Tyre till their book had been issued out; or perhaps they considered it more for their friend's credit to omit this juvenile performance. Ben Jonson, when he collected his pieces into a volume, in the year 1616, in like manner omitted a comedy called The Case is Altered, which had been printed with his name some years before, and appears to have been one of his earliest productions; having been exhibited before the year 1599. After all, perhaps, the internal evidence which this drama itself affords of the hand of Shakspeare is of more weight than any other argument that can be adduced. If we are to form our judgment by those unerring criterions which have been established by the learned author of The Discourse on Poetical Imitation, the question will be quickly decided; for who can point out two writers, that without any communication or knowledge of each other ever produced so many passages, coinciding both in sentiment and expression, as are found in this piece and the undisputed plays of Shakspeare* [Subnote: *“Considering the vast variety of words which any language, and especially the more copious ones furnish, and the infinite possible combinations of them into all the forms of phraseology, it would be very strange, if two persons should hit on the same identical terms, and much more, should they agree in the same precise arrangement of them in whole sentences.” Discourse on Poetical Imitation, Hurd's Horace, vol. iii. p. 109, edit. 1766.] ? Should it be said, that he did not scruple to borrow both fables and sentiments from other writers, and that therefore this circumstance will not prove this tragedy to be his, it may be answered, that had Pericles been an anonymous production, this coincidence might not perhaps ascertain Shakspeare's title to the play; and he might with sufficient probability be supposed to have only borrowed from another; but when, in addition to all the circumstances already stated, we recollect the constant tradition that has accompanied this piece, and that it was printed with his name, in his life-time, as acted at his own theatre, the parallel passages which are so abundantly scattered throughout every part of Pericles and his undisputed performances, afford no slight proof, that in the several instances enumerated in the course of the preceding observations, he borrowed, as was his frequent practice, from himself; and that this contested play was his own composition. The testimony of Dryden to this point does not appear to me so inconsiderable as it has been represented. If he had only meant to say, that Pericles was produced before Othello, the second line of the couplet which has been already quoted, would have sufficiently expressed his meaning; nor, in order to convey this idea, was it necessary to call the former the first dramatick performance of Shakspeare; a particular which he lived near enough the time to have learned from stage-tradition, or the more certain information of his friend Sir William D'Avenant† [Subnote: †Sir William D'Avenant produced his first play at the theatre in Blackfryers, in 1629, when he was twenty-four years old, at which time his passion for apple-hunting, we may presume, had subsided, and given way to more manly pursuits. That a young poet thus early acquainted with the stage, who appears to have had a great veneration for our author, who was possessed of the only original picture of Shakspeare ever painted, who carefully preserved a letter written to him by King James, who himself altered four of his plays and introduced them in a new form on the stage, should have been altogether incurious about the early history and juvenile productions of the great luminary of the dramatick world, (then only thirteen years dead,) who happened also to be his god-father, and was by many reputed his father, is not very credible. That he should have never made an enquiry concerning a play, printed with Shakspeare's name, and which appears to have been a popular piece at the very time when D'Avenant produced his first dramatick essay, (a third edition of Pericles having been printed in 1630) is equally improbable, and it is still more incredible, that our author's friend, old Mr. Heminge, who was alive in 1629, and principal proprietor and manager of the Globe and Blackfryars play houses, should not have been able to give him any information concerning a play, which had been produced at the former theatre, probably while it was under his direction, and had been acted by his company with great applause for more than thirty years.] . If he had only taken the folio edition of our author's works for his guide, without any other authority, he would have named The Tempest as his earliest production; because it happens to stand first in the volume. But however this may be, and whether, when Dryden entitled Pericles our author's first composition, he meant to be understood literally or not, let it be remembered, that he calls it his Pericles; that he speaks of it as the legitimate, not the spurious or adopted, offspring of our poet's muse; as the sole, not the partial property of Shakspeare. I am yet, therefore, unconvinced, that this drama was not written by our author. The wildness and irregularity of the fable, the artless conduct of the piece, and the inequalities of the poetry, may, I think, be all accounted for, by supposing it either his first, or one of his earliest essays in dramatick composition. Malone. On looking into Roscius Anglicanus, better known by the name of Downes the Prompter's Book, originally printed in 1709, and lately republished by the ingenious Mr. Waldron of Drury Lane Theatre, I was not a little surprized to find, that Pericles, Prince of Tyre, was one of the characters in which the famous Betterton had been most applauded.—Could the copy from which this play was acted by him and his associates, be recovered, it would prove a singular curiosity; at least, to those who have since been drudging through every scene of the original quarto 1609, in the hope of restoring it to such a degree of sense and measure as might give it currency with the reader. As for the present editor, he expects to be “Stopp'd in phials, and transfix'd with pins,” on account of the readiness with which he has obeyed the second clause of the Ovidian precept: Cuncta prius tentanda; sed immedicabile vulnus Ense recidendum. When it is proved, however, that a gentle process might have been employed with equal success, let the actual cautery be rejected, or applied to the remarks of him who has so freely used it. Steevens.

Note return to page 581 1&lblank; my successive title &lblank;] i. e. my title to the succession. Malone. Thus also Raleigh: “The empire being elective, and not successive, the emperors, in being, made profit of their own times.” Steevens.

Note return to page 582 2&lblank; mine age &lblank;] My seniority in point of age. Tamora, in a subsequent passage, speaks of him as a very young man: “If Saturnine advance the queen of Goths, “She will a handmaid be to his desires; “A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.” Boswell.

Note return to page 583 3Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds!] I suspect that the poet wrote: “&lblank; in my mourning weeds!” i. e. Titus would say: ‘Thou, Rome, art victorious, though I am a mourner for those sons which I have lost in obtaining that victory.’ Warburton. Thy is as well as my. We may suppose the Romans in a grateful ceremony, meeting the dead sons of Andronicus with mournful habits. Steevens.

Note return to page 584 4&lblank; her fraught.] Old copies—his fraught. Corrected in the fourth folio. Malone. “&lblank; his fraught,” As in the other old copies noted by Mr. Malone. It will be proper here to observe, that the edition of 1600 is not paged. Todd.

Note return to page 585 5Thou great defender of this Capitol,] Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacred. Johnson.

Note return to page 586 6To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?] Here we have one of the numerous classical notions that are scattered with a pedantick profusion through this piece. Malone.

Note return to page 587 7&lblank; earthly prison &lblank;] Edit. 1600—“earthy prison.” Todd.

Note return to page 588 8Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.] It was supposed by the ancients, that the ghosts of unburied people appeared to their friends and relations, to solicit the rites of funeral. Steevens.

Note return to page 589 8Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful:] “Homines enim ad deos nulla re propius accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando.” Cicero pro Ligario. Mr. Whalley infers the learning of Shakspeare from this passage: but our present author, whoever he was, might have found a translation of it in several places, provided he was not acquainted with the original. Steevens. The same sentiment is in Edward III. 1596: “&lblank; kings approach the nearest unto God, “By giving life and safety unto men.” Reed.

Note return to page 590 9Patient yourself, &c.] This verb is used by other dramatick writers. So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Patient yourself, we cannot help it now.” Again, in King Edward I. 1599: “Patient your highness, 'tis but mother's love.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xii. ch. lxxv.: “Her, weeping ripe, he laughing, bids to patient her awhile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 591 1The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, &c.] I read, against the authority of all the copies: “&lblank; in her tent &lblank;.” i. e. in the tent where she and the other Trojan captive women were kept: for thither Hecuba by a wile had decoyed Polymnestor, in order to perpetrate her revenge. This we may learn from Euripides's Hecuba; the only author, that I can at present remember, from whom our writer must have gleaned this circumstance. Theobald. Mr. Theobald should first have proved to us that our author understood Greek, or else that this play of Euripides had been translated. In the mean time, because neither of these particulars are verified, we may as well suppose he took it from the old story-book of the Trojan War, or the old translation of Ovid. See Metam. xiii. The writer of the play, whoever he was, might have been misled by the passage in Ovid, “vadit ad artificem,” and therefore took it for granted that she found him in his tent. Steevens. I have no doubt that the writer of this play had read Euripides in the original. Mr. Steevens justly observes in a subsequent note near the end of this scene, that there is “a plain allusion to the Ajax of Sophocles, of which no translation was extant in the time of Shakspeare.” Malone.

Note return to page 592 2&lblank; repose you here,] Old copies, redundantly in respect both to sense and metre: “&lblank; repose you here in rest.” Steevens. The same redundancy in the edition 1600, as noted in other copies by Mr. Steevens. Todd.

Note return to page 593 3And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise!] This absurd wish is made sense of, by changing and into in. Warburton. To “live in fame's date” is, if an allowable, yet a harsh expression. To “outlive an eternal date” is, though not philosophical, yet poetical sense. He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame. Johnson.

Note return to page 594 4That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness,] The maxim of Solon here alluded to is, that no man can be pronounced to be happy before his death: &lblank; ultima semper Expectanda dies homini; dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo, supremaque funera, debet. Ovid. Malone.

Note return to page 595 5&lblank; don this robe,] i. e. do on this robe, put it on. So, in Hamlet: “Then up he rose, and do'nd his clothes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 596 6Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.] Here is rather too much of the &grura;&grs;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn; &grp;&grr;&groa;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn;. Steevens.

Note return to page 597 7Patience, prince Saturnine.] Edition 1600— “Patience, prince Saturninus.” Todd.

Note return to page 598 8&lblank; thy friends,] Old copies—friend. Corrected in the fourth folio. Malone. Edition 1600, friend, as in other old copies noted by Mr. Malone. Todd.

Note return to page 599 9&lblank; Pantheon &lblank;] The quarto 1611, and the first folio—Pathan; the second folio—Pantheon. Steevens. Edition 1600—Pathan, as in other copies noted by Mr. Steevens. Todd.

Note return to page 600 1&lblank; imperial lord:] Edition 1600: “&lblank; imperious lord.” Todd.

Note return to page 601 2Lav. Not I, my lord;] It was pity to part a couple who seem to have corresponded in disposition so exactly as Saturninus and Lavinia. Saturninus, who has just promised to espouse her, already wishes he were to choose again; and she who was engaged to Bassianus (whom she afterwards marries) expresses no reluctance when her father gives her to Saturninus. Her subsequent raillery to Tamora is of so coarse a nature, that if her tongue had been all she was condemned to lose, perhaps the author (whoever he was) might have escaped censure on the score of poetick justice. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 3Not her,] Edition 1600—Nor her. Todd. It is nor in the edition of 1611 also, but has hitherto been erroneously printed by the modern editors—not. Malone.

Note return to page 603 4Was there, &c.] The words there and else are not found in the old copies. This conjectural emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. The same editor, from ignorance of ancient phraseology, reads —“to make a stale of.” See vol. xiii. p. 228, n. 2. Malone. I must excuse myself from ejecting any one of these monosyllables, being convinced that they were all inserted from an authorized copy, and by a judicious hand. Steevens.

Note return to page 604 5&lblank; changing piece &lblank;] Spoken of Lavinia. Piece was then, as it is now, used personally as a word of contempt. Johnson. So, in Britania's Pastorals, by Brown, 1613: “&lblank; her husband, weaken'd piece, “Must have his cullis mix'd with ambergrease; “Pheasant and partridge into jelly turn'd, “Grated with gold.” Again, in the old play of King Leir, 1605: “&lblank; when did you see Cordella last, “That pretty piece &lblank;?” Steevens.

Note return to page 605 6To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.] A ruffler was a kind of cheating bully; and is so called in a statute made for the punishment of vagabonds in the 27th year of King Henry VIII. See Greene's Groundwork of Coneycatching, 1592. Hence, I suppose, this sense of the verb, to ruffle. Rufflers are likewise enumerated among other vagabonds, by Holinshed, vol. i. p. 183. Steevens. To ruffle meant, to be noisy, disorderly, turbulent. A ruffler was a boisterous swaggerer. Malone.

Note return to page 606 7That, like the stately Phœbe 'mongst her nymphs, Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome,] &lblank; Micat inter omnes Julium sidus, velut inter ignes Luna minores. Hor. Malone. From Phaer's Virgil, 1573: [Æneid, b. i.] “Most like unto Diana bright when she to hunt goth out— “Whom thousands of the ladie nymphes awaite to do her will; “She on her armes her quiuer beres, and al them ouershynes.” Ritson.

Note return to page 607 8I am not bid &lblank;] i. e. invited. Malone.

Note return to page 608 9He is not with himself; let us withdraw.] Read: “He is not now himself &lblank;.” Ritson. Perhaps the old reading is a mere affected imitation of Roman phraseology. See Æneid xi. 409, though the words there are otherwise applied: &lblank; habitet tecum, et sit pectore in isto. Steevens. It is much the same sort of phrase as he is beside himself, a genuine English idiom. Boswell.

Note return to page 609 1The Greeks, upon advice, bid bury Ajax That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son Did graciously plead for his funerals.] This passage alone would sufficiently convince me, that the play before us was the work of one who was conversant with the Greek tragedies in their original language. We have here a plain allusion to the Ajax of Sophocles, of which no translation was extant in the time of Shakspeare. In that piece, Agamemnon consents at last to allow Ajax the rites of sepulture, and Ulysses is the pleader, whose arguments prevail in favour of his remains. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 2No man shed tears, &c.] This is evidently a translation of the distich of Ennius: Nemo me lacrumeis decoret: nec funera fletu Facsit, quur? volito vivu' per ora virum. Steevens.

Note return to page 611 3Yes, &c.] This line is not in the quarto. I suspect, when it was added by the editor of the folio, he inadvertently omitted to prefix the name of the speaker, and that it belongs to Marcus. In the second line of this speech the modern editors read—If by device, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 612 4&lblank; play'd your prize;] A technical term in the ancient fencing-school. See vol. viii. p. 30, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 5&lblank; supplant us &lblank;] Edition 1600:—supplant you. Todd.

Note return to page 614 6Act II. Scene I.] In the quarto, the direction is, Manet Aaron, and he is before made to enter with Tamora, though he says nothing. This scene ought to continue the first Act. Johnson. In the edit. 1600, the stage direction is—“Sound trumpets, manet Moore.” Todd.

Note return to page 615 7Upon her wit &lblank;] We should read—Upon her will. Warburton. I think wit, for which she is eminent in the drama, is right. Johnson. The wit of Tamora is again mentioned in this scene: “Come, come, our empress with her sacred wit.” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 616 8&lblank; idle thoughts!] Edit. 1600—servile thoughts, the better reading, I think. Todd.

Note return to page 617 9This goddess, this Semiramis;—this nymph,] [Edition 1611, and folio, queen.] Mr. Malone notices the inadvertent repetition of queen, but thinks the poet's word not worth a conjecture. The edition 1600 saves the trouble, as it reads: “This goddesse, this Semerimis, this nymph.” Todd. The compositor probably repeated the word queen inadvertently; [see the preceding line:] what was the poet's word, it is hardly worth while to conjecture. Malone.

Note return to page 618 1Clubs, clubs!] So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; and hit that woman, who cried out clubs!” This was the usual outcry for assistance, when any riot in the street happened. Steevens. See vol. vi. p. 490, n. 3. Reed.

Note return to page 619 2&lblank; a dancing-rapier by your side,] So, in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier: “&lblank; one of them carrying his cutting-sword of choller, the other his dancing-rapier of delight.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; no sword worn, “But one to dance with.” Steevens. See vol. xii. p. 310, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 620 3Not I; till I have sheath'd, &c.] This speech, which has been all along given to Demetrius, as the next to Chiron, were both given to the wrong speaker; for it was Demetrius that had thrown out the reproachful speeches on the other. Warburton.

Note return to page 621 4&lblank; these reproachful &lblank;] Edition 1600—those reproachful. Todd.

Note return to page 622 5&lblank; thunder'st with thy tongue,] This phrase appears to have been adopted from Virgil, Æneid xi. 383: Proinde tona eloquio, solitum tibi &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 623 6&lblank; a thousand deaths Would I propose,] Whether Chiron means he would contrive a thousand deaths for others, or imagine as many cruel ones for himself, I am unable to determine. Steevens. Aaron's words, to which these are an answer, seem to lead to the latter interpretation. Malone. Does not Chiron mean,—‘that had he a thousand lives, such was his love for Lavinia, he would propose to venture them all to achieve her?’ W. Woodham. So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “Tranio, I burn, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio; “If I achieve not this young modest girl.” Boswell.

Note return to page 624 7She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore may be won;] These two lines occur, with very little variation, in the First Part of King Henry VI.: “She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; “She is a woman, therefore to be won.” This coincidence may lead one to suspect that the author of the present play was also author of the original Henry VI. I do not, indeed, conceive either to be the production of Shakspeare; for, though his hand is sufficiently visible in some parts of the other play, particularly in the second Scene of the fourth Act, there does not appear a single line in this, which can have any pretensions to that honour: and therefore the testimony of Meres and the publication of the players must necessarily yield to the force of intrinsick and circumstantial evidence. It is much to be regretted that the dramatick works of our earliest tragick writers, as Greene and Peele, for instance, and “sporting Kyd,” and “Marlowe's mighty line,” are not collected and published together, if it were only to enable the readers of Shakspeare to discriminate between his style and that of which he found the stage, and has left some of his dramas, in possession; and of which I consider this play, and at least four fifths of the First Part of King Henry VI. (including the whole of the First Act) the performances, no doubt, of one or other of the writers already named, as a genuine and not unfavourable specimen. Indeed, I should take Kyd to have been the author of Titus Andronicus, because he seems to delight in murders and scraps of Latin; though I must confess that, in the first of those good qualities, Marlowe's Jew of Malta may fairly dispute precedence with the Spanish Tragedy. Some few of the obsolete dramas I allude to, are, it is true, to be found in the collections of Dodsley and Hawkins; though I could wish that each of those gentlemen had confined his researches to the further side of the year 1600. Future editors will, doubtless, agree in ejecting a performance by which their author's name is dishonoured, and his works are disgraced. Ritson.

Note return to page 625 8&lblank; more water glideth by the mill, &c.] A Scots proverb: “Mickle water goes by the miller when he sleeps.” Non omnem molitor quæ fluit unda videt. Steevens.

Note return to page 626 9&lblank; to steal a shive,] A shive is a slice. So, in the tale of Argentile and Curan, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602: “A sheeve of bread as browne as nut.” Demetrius is again indebted to a Scots proverb: “It is safe taking a shive of a cut loaf.” Steevens.

Note return to page 627 1&lblank; have worn &lblank;] Worn is here used as a dissyllable. The modern editors, however, after the second folio, read—“have yet worn.” Malone. Let him who can read worn as a dissyllable, read it so. As I am not of that description, I must continue to follow the second folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 2&lblank; struck a doe,] Mr. Holt is willing to infer from this passage that Titus Andronicus was not only the work of Shakspeare, but one of his earliest performances, because the stratagems of his former profession seem to have been yet fresh in his mind. I had made the same observation in King Henry VI. before I had seen his; but when we consider how many phrases are borrowed from the sports of the field, which were more followed in our author's time than any other amusement, I do not think there is much in either his remark or my own.—Let me add, that we have here Demetrius, the son of a queen, demanding of his brother prince if he has not often been reduced to practise the common artifices of a deer-stealer:—an absurdity right worthy the rest of the piece. Steevens. Demetrius surely here addresses Aaron, not his brother. Malone.

Note return to page 629 4To square for this?] To square is to quarrel. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; they never meet, “But they do square.” Again, in Drant's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry, 1567: “Let them not sing twixt act and act, “What squareth from the rest.” But to square, which in both these instances signifies to differ, is now used only in the very opposite sense, and means to agree. Steevens.

Note return to page 630 5A speedier course than lingering languishment &lblank;] The old copies read: “&lblank; this lingering,” &c. which may mean, ‘we must pursue by a speedier course this coy languishing dame, this piece of reluctant softness.’ Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 631 6&lblank; by kind &lblank;] That is, by nature, which is the old signification of kind. Johnson.

Note return to page 632 7&lblank; with her sacred wit,] Sacred here signifies accursed; a Latinism: &lblank; Quid non mortalia pectora cogis, Auri sacra fames? Virg. Malone.

Note return to page 633 8&lblank; file our engines with advice,] i. e. remove all impediments from our designs by advice. The allusion is to the operation of the file, which, by conferring smoothness, facilitates the motion of the wheels which compose an engine or piece of machinery. Steevens.

Note return to page 634 9&lblank; of eyes, of ears:] Edit. 1600:—of eyes and cares. Todd.

Note return to page 635 1&lblank; till I find the stream To cool this heat,] Thus likewise, the festive Strumbo in the tragedy of Locrine: “&lblank; except you with the pleasant water of your secret fountain, quench the furious heat of the same.” Amner.

Note return to page 636 2Per Styga, &c.] These scraps of Latin are, I believe, taken, though not exactly, from some of Seneca's tragedies. Steevens.

Note return to page 637 3Scene II.] The division of this play into Acts, which was first made by the editors in 1623, is improper. There is here an interval of action, and here the second Act ought to have begun. Johnson.

Note return to page 638 4&lblank; the morn &lblank;] Edit. 1600 erroneously reads—the moon. Todd.

Note return to page 639 5&lblank; the morn is bright and grey,] i. e. bright and yet not red, which was a sign of storms and rain, but gray, which foretold fair weather. Yet the Oxford editor alters gray to gay. Warburton. Surely the Oxford editor is in the right; unless we reason like the Witches in Macbeth, and say: &mlquo;Fair is foul, and foul is fair.” Steevens. The old copy is, I think, right; nor did grey anciently denote any thing of an uncheerful hue. It signified blue, of heaven's own tinct.” So, in Shakspeare's 132d Sonnet: &mlquo;And truly not the morning sun of heaven &mlquo;Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east &lblank;.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: &mlquo;&lblank; it stuck upon him as the sun &mlquo;In the grey vault of heaven.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night &lblank;.” Again, ibidem: “I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye.” Again, more appositely, in Venus and Adonis, which decisively supports the reading of the old copy: “Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning.” Malone. A lady's eye of any colour may be bright; but still grey cannot mean aerial blue, nor a grey morning a bright one. Mr. Malone says grey is blue. Is a grey coat then a blue one? Steevens. Surely Warburton's note is fully explanatory of the text, if it required explanation. There is a common proverbial saying— “An evening red, and a morning grey, “Are the signs of a fine coming day.” It is singular that either Mr. Malone or Mr. Steevens, who were both early risers, should have thought this expression demanded a note. Boswell.

Note return to page 640 6&lblank; to inherit it.] To inherit formerly signified to possess. See vol. xv. p. 146, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 641 7&lblank; for their unrest,] Unrest, for disquiet, is a word frequently used by the old writers. So, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1603: &mlquo;Thus therefore will I rest me in unrest.” Again, in Eliosto Libidinoso, an ancient novel, by John Hinde, 1606: &mlquo;For the ease of whose unrest, &mlquo;Thus his furie was exprest.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the ninth Iliad: &mlquo;Both goddesses let fall their chins upon their ivorie breasts, &mlquo;Sat next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy's unrests.” Again, in an excellent Pastoral Dittie, by Shep. Tonie; published in England's Helicon, 1600: &mlquo;With lute in hand did paint out her unrest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 642 8That have their alms, &c.] This is obscure. It seems to mean only, that they who are to come at this gold of the empress are to suffer by it. Johnson.

Note return to page 643 9My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad,] In the course of the following notes several examples of the savage genius of Ravenscroft, who altered this play in the reign of King James II. are set down for the entertainment of the reader. The following is a specimen of his descriptive talents. Instead of this line with which this speech of Tamora begins, she is made to say: &mlquo;The emperor, with wine and luxury o'ercome, &mlquo;Is fallen asleep; in's pendant couch he's laid, &mlquo;That hangs in yonder grotto rock'd by winds, &mlquo;Which rais'd by art do give it gentle motion: &mlquo;And troops of slaves stand round with fans perfumd, &mlquo;Made of the feathers pluck'd from Indian birds, &mlquo;And cool him into golden slumbers: &mlquo;This time I chose to come to thee, my Moor. &mlquo;My lovely Aaron, wherefore,” &c. &lblank; An emperor who has had too large a dose of love and wine, and in consequence of satiety in both, falls asleep on a bed which partakes of the nature of a sailor's hammock, and a child's cradle, is a curiosity which only Ravenscroft could have ventured to describe on the stage. I hope I may be excused for transplanting a few of his flowers into the barren desart of our comments on this tragedy. Steevens. “My lovely Aaron, &c.” There is much poetical beauty in this speech of Tamora. It appears to me to be the only one in the play that is in the style of Shakspeare. M. Mason.

Note return to page 644 1&lblank; a checquer'd shadow &lblank;] Milton has the same expression: “&lblank; many a maid “Dancing in the checquer'd shade.” The same epithet occurs again in Locrine. Steevens.

Note return to page 645 2As if a double hunt were heard at once,] Hence, perhaps, a line in a well known song by Dryden: “And echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 646 3&lblank; as is a nurse's song Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep.] Dr. Johnson, in his Dictionary, says, “it is observable that the nurses call sleep by, by; lullaby is therefore lull to sleep.” But to lull originally signified to sleep. ‘To compose to sleep by a pleasing sound’ is a secondary sense retained after its primitive import became obsolete. The verbs to loll and lollop evidently spring from the same root. And by meant house; go to by is go to house or cradle. The common compliment at parting, good by is good house, may your house prosper; and Selby, the Archbishop of York's palace, is great house. So that lullaby implies literally sleep in house, i. e. the cradle. Holt White.

Note return to page 647 4&lblank; though venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine:] The meaning of this passage may be illustrated by the astronomical description of Saturn, which Venus gives in Greene's Planetomachia, 1585: “The star of Saturn is especially cooling, and somewhat drie,” &c. Again, in The Sea Voyage, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; for your aspect “You're much inclin'd to melancholy, and that “Tells me the sullen Saturn had predominance “At your nativity, a malignant planet! “And if not qualified by a sweet conjunction “Of a soft ruddy wench, born under Venus, “It may prove fatal.” Collins. Thus also, Propertius, l. iv. i. 84: Et grave Saturni sydus in omne caput. Steevens.

Note return to page 648 6&lblank; of her &lblank;] Old copies—of our. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. The edition 1600, reads exactly thus: “Vnfurnisht of her well beseeming troop.” Todd.

Note return to page 649 7&lblank; our private steps!] Edition 1600:—my private steps. Todd.

Note return to page 650 8Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs,] Mr. Heath suspects that the poet wrote: “Should thrive upon thy new-transformed limbs &lblank;,” as the former is an expression that suggests no image to the fancy. But drive, I think, may stand, with this meaning: “the hounds should pass with impetuous haste,” &c. So, in Hamlet: “Pyrrhus at Priam drives,” &c. i. e. flies with impetuosity at him. Steevens. It is said in a note by Mr. Malone, that the old copies read, “upon his new-transformed limbs,” and that Mr. Rowe made the emendation—thy. The edition of 1600 reads precisely thus: “Should drive vpon thy new-transformed limbes.” Todd. It should be remembered that when Mr. Malone wrote the note referred to, the edition of 1600 had not been discovered. Boswell.

Note return to page 651 9&lblank; swarth Cimmerian &lblank;] Swarth is black. The Moor is called Cimmerian, from the affinity of blackness to darkness. Johnson. “&lblank; swarth Cimmerian &lblank;.” Edition 1600:—swartie Cymerion. Todd.

Note return to page 652 1Accompanied with a barbarous Moor,] Edition 1600 reads: “Accompanied but with a barbarous Moore.” Todd. Later editions omitted the word but. Boswell.

Note return to page 653 2&lblank; have note of this,] Old copies—notice. Steevens. Thus also the quarto 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 654 3&lblank; made him noted long:] He had yet been married but one night. Johnson. The true reading may be—“made her,” i. e. Tamora. Steevens.

Note return to page 655 4A barren detested vale,] As the versification of this play is by no means inharmonious, I am willing to suppose the author wrote: “A bare detested vale &lblank;.” Steevens:

Note return to page 656 5Here never shines the sun; &c.] Mr. Rowe seems to have thought on this passage in his Jane Shore: “This is the house where the sun never dawns, “The bird of night sits screaming o'er its roof, “Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, “And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 657 6&lblank; urchins,] i. e. hedgehogs. See vol. xv. p. 53, n. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 658 7Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.] This is said in fabulous physiology, of those that hear the groan of the mandrake torn up. Johnson. The same thought and almost the same expressions occur in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 659 8Ay, come, Semiramis,] The propriety of this address will be best understood from the following passage in P. Holland's translation of the eight book of Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 42: “Queen Semiramis loved a great horse that she had, so farre forth, that she was content he should doe his kind with her,” The incontinence of this lady has been already alluded to in the induction to the Taming of a Shrew, scene the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 660 9And with that painted hope braves your mightiness:] Painted hope is only specious hope, or ground of confidence more plausible than solid. Johnson. The ruggedness of this line persuades me that the word—hope is an interpolation, the sense being complete without it: “And with that painted, braves your mightiness.” So, in King Richard III.: “Poor painted queen,” &c. Painted with is speciously coloured with. Steevens.

Note return to page 661 1&lblank; you desire,] Old copies—we desire. Corrected in the second folio. Malone. The edit. 1600 reads, with the other old copies—we desire. Todd.

Note return to page 662 2&lblank; with her,] These useless syllables, which hurt the metre, might well be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 663 3&lblank; the dismal'st object hurt,] So the quarto 1600. In the later quarto, and the folio, the word hurt is omitted. Malone.

Note return to page 664 3From this unhallow'd, &c.] Edition 1600: “From this unhallow,” &c. Todd.

Note return to page 665 4&lblank; who it is;] So the quarto 1600. The later quarto, and the folio, read—how it is. Malone.

Note return to page 666 5A precious ring,] There is supposed to be a gem called a carbuncle, which emits not reflected but native light. Mr. Boyle believes the reality of its existence. Johnson. So, in The Gesta Romanorum, history the sixth: “He farther beheld and saw a carbuncle in the hall that lighted all the house.” Again, in Lydgate's Description of King Priam's Palace, l. ii.: “And for most chefe all dirkeness to confound, “A carbuncle was set as kyng of stones all, “To recomforte and gladden all the hall. “And it to enlumine in the black night “With the freshnes of his ruddy light.” Again, in the Muse's Elysium, by Drayton: “Is that admired, mighty stone, “The carbuncle that's named; “Which from it such a flaming light “And radiancy ejecteth, “That in the very darkest night “The eye to it directeth.” Chaucer, in the Romaunt of the Rose, attributes the same properties to the carbuncle: “Soche light ysprang out of the stone.” Steevens. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; a gem “To lighten all this isle.” So also, Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. xi.: “&lblank; like diamond of rich regard, “In doubtful shadow of the darksome night.” Malone.

Note return to page 667 6&lblank; all the hole,] The quarto 1600 reads—all this hole. Todd.

Note return to page 668 7So pale did shine the moon, &c.] Lee appears to have been indebted to this image in his Massacre of Paris: “Looks like a midnight moon upon a murder.” Steevens.

Note return to page 669 8&lblank; left him there.] Edition 1600 reads—left them there. Todd.

Note return to page 670 9&lblank; timeless &lblank;] i. e. untimely. So, in King Richard II.: “The bloody office of his timeless end.” Steevens.

Note return to page 671 9&lblank; she can scowl.] Edition 1600 reads: “&lblank; she can scrowle.” This, I apprehend, is the true reading. Todd.

Note return to page 672 1If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake me!] If this be a dream, I would give all my possessions to be delivered from it by waking. Johnson.

Note return to page 673 2&lblank; lest thou should'st detect him, &c.] Old copies—detect them. The same mistake has happened in many other old plays. The correction was made by Mr. Rowe. Tereus having ravished Philomela, his wife's sister, cut out her tongue, to prevent a discovery. Malone.

Note return to page 674 3&lblank; three issuing spouts,] Old copies—their issuing, &c. Corrected by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 675 4&lblank; hast thou met withal,] [So formerly printed.] The word withal, is wanting in edition 1600. Todd. The edition of 1600 reads as in the text. The word cousin, was omitted in the quarto 1611, which appears to have been followed by the folio, the editor of which, finding the line defective, inserted withal, by conjecture. Malone.

Note return to page 676 5&lblank; Thracian poet's &lblank;] Orpheus. Steevens.

Note return to page 677 6For these, good tribunes,] In the original copy, a word being omitted at the press, and the line consequently defective, the editor of the second folio, to supply the metre, reads: “For these, these tribunes &lblank;.” It is much more likely that some epithet of respect was given to the tribunes, to conciliate their favour, than that the word these should be so oddly repeated. So, afterwards: “O, reverend tribunes &lblank;.” For this emendation I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 678 7&lblank; two ancient urns,] Oxford editor.—Vulg. “&lblank; two ancient ruins.” Johnson. Edition 1600—ruines, as in other old copies. Todd.

Note return to page 679 8O, reverend tribunes! gentle-aged-men!] Edition 1600: “O, reverend tribunes! oh gentle aged men.” Todd.

Note return to page 680 9&lblank; or, if they did mark, All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. Therefore, &c.] The edition 1600 thus: “&lblank; or if they did marke, “They would not pitty me, yet pleade I must, “All bootless unto them. “Therefore,” &c. This I conceive to be the right reading. Todd. The quarto 1600 reads as in the text, except that for—“All bootless,” it reads—“And bootless.” The editor of the folio, finding the passage corrupt in the quarto of 1611, mended it thus: “&lblank; they would not mark, “All bootless unto them, they would not pity me,” &c. The original is certainly the true reading. In the quarto 1611, an entire line— “They would not pity me,” &c. was omitted by the carelessness of the printer; an error which, I have no doubt, has often happened in those plays of which we have only the folio copy. Malone.

Note return to page 681 1A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than stones:] The author, we may suppose, originally wrote: “Stone's soft as wax,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 682 2Speak, my Lavinia,] My, which is wanting in the first folio, was supplied by the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 683 3&lblank; in thy father's sight?] We should read—spight? Warburton.

Note return to page 684 4&lblank; I'll chop off my hands too;] Perhaps we should read: “&lblank; or chop off,” &c. It is not easy to discover how Titus, when he had chopped off one of his hands, would have been able to have chopped off the other. Steevens. I have no doubt but the text is as the author wrote it. Let him answer for the blunder. In a subsequent line Titus supposes himself his own executioner: “Now all the service I require of them, “Is that the one will help to cut the other.” Malone.

Note return to page 685 5O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,] This piece furnishes scarce any resemblances to Shakspeare's works; this one expression, however, is found in his Venus and Adonis: “Once more the engine of her thoughts began.” Malone.

Note return to page 686 6It was my deer;] This play upon deer and dear has been used by Waller, who calls a lady's girdle— “The pale that held my lovely deer.” Johnson.

Note return to page 687 7&lblank; like meadows,] Old copies—in meadows. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 688 8&lblank; as limbo is from bliss!] The Limbus patrum, as it was called, is a place that the schoolmen supposed to be in the neighbourhood of hell, where the souls of the patriarchs were detained, and those good men who died before our Saviour's resurrection. Milton gives the name of Limbo to his Paradise of Fools. Reed.

Note return to page 689 9Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?] Thus all the editions. But Mr. Theobald, after ridiculing the sagacity of the former editors at the expence of a great deal of aukward mirth, corrects it to casque; and this, he says, he'll stand by: And the Oxford editor taking his security, will stand by it too. But what a slippery ground is critical confidence! Nothing could bid fairer for a right conjecture; yet 'tis all imaginary. A close helmet, which covered the whole head was called a castle, and, I suppose, for that very reason. Don Quixote's barber, at least as good a critick as these editors, says (in Shelton's translation 1612): “I know what is a helmet, and what a morrion, and what a close castle, and other things touching warfare.” Lib. iv. cap. xviii. And the original, celada de encaxe, has something of the same signification. Shakspeare uses the word again in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; and, Diomede, “Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head.” Warburton. “Dr. Warburton's proof (says Mr. Heath,) rests wholly on two mistakes, one of a printer, the other of his own. In Shelton's Don Quixote the word close castle is an error of the press for a close casque, which is the exact interpretation of the Spanish original, celada de encaxe; this Dr. Warburton must have seen, if he had understood Spanish as well as he pretends to do. For the primitive caxa, from whence the word encaxe is derived, signifies a box, or coffer; but never a castle. His other proof is taken from this passage in Troilus and Cressida: “‘&lblank; and, Diomede, “‘Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head.’ “Wherein Troilus doth not advise Diomede to wear a helmet on his head, for that would be poor indeed, as he always wore one in battle; but to guard his head with the most impenetrable armour, to shut it up even in a castle, if it were possible, or else his sword should reach it.” After all this reasoning, however, it appears, that a castle did actually signify a close helmet. See Grose's Treatise of Ancient Armour, p. 12, from whence it appears that castle may only be a corruption of the old French word—casqueted. Thus also, in Holinshed, vol. ii. p. 815: “Then suddenlie with great noise of trumpets entered sir Thomas Knevet in a castell of cole blacke, and over the castell was written, The dolorous castell; and so he and the earle of Essex, &c. ran their courses with the kyng,” &c. A remark, however, of my late friend Mr. Tyrwhitt, has taught me to suspect the validity of my quotation from Holinshed; for one of the knights in the tournament described, made his entry in a fountain, and another in a horse-litter. Sir Thomas Knevet therefore might have appeared in a building formed in imitation of a castle. Steevens. The instance quoted does not appear to me to prove what it was adduced for; wooden castles having been sometimes introduced in ancient tournaments. The passage in the text is itself much more decisive. Malone.

Note return to page 690 2But i will use the axe.] Metre requires us to read: “But I will use it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 691 3&lblank; with possibilities,] Edition 1600 reads:—“with possibilitie.” Todd.

Note return to page 692 5&lblank; do blow!] Old copies—do flow. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 693 6&lblank; thy griefs:] The old copies—my griefs. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone. “Thy griefs,” &c. Edition 1600:—my griefs. Todd.

Note return to page 694 7Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things;] Thus the folio, 1623. The quarto, 1611, thus: “And Lavinia thou shalt be employed in these arms.” Perhaps we ought to read: “Lavinia, “Thou too shalt be employed in these things &lblank;.” Steevens. The folio also reads—And Lavinia; the rest as above. The compositor probably caught the word—And from the preceding line. Malone. “And Lavinia,” &c. So in edit. 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 695 8He leaves, &c.] Old copies—He loves. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. The edition 1600 reads with other old copies. Todd.

Note return to page 696 9&lblank; Saturninus &lblank;] Edition 1600—Saturnine. Todd.

Note return to page 697 1Scene II.] This scene, which does not contribute any thing to the action, yet seems to have the same author with the rest, is omitted in the quarto of 1611, but found in the folio of 1623. Johnson. Scene II. is also wanting in the edition 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 698 2Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot;] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; sitting “His arms in this sad knot.” Malone.

Note return to page 699 3And cannot passionate, &c.] This obsolete verb is likewise found in Spenser: “Great pleasure mix'd with pitiful regard, “That godly king and queen did passionate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 700 4And when, &c.] Old copies—Who when &lblank;. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 701 5O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands;] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; thou &lblank; “Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 702 6&lblank; she drinks no other drink but tears,] So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Ye see, I drink the water of my eyes.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping?” Malone.

Note return to page 703 7&lblank; mesh'd upon her cheeks:] A very coarse allusion to brewing. Steevens.

Note return to page 704 8&lblank; by still practice,] By constant or continual practice. Johnson.

Note return to page 705 9Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; thou boy of tears.” Steevens.

Note return to page 706 1Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart;] So, in King Henry V.: “The king hath kill'd his heart.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine.” Malone.

Note return to page 707 2&lblank; a father and mother?] Mother perhaps should be omitted, as the following line speaks only in the singular number, and Titus most probably confines his thoughts to the sufferings of a father. Steevens. Mr. Steevens judiciously conjectures that the words—and mother, should be omitted. We might read: “But!—How if that fly had a father, brother?” The note of exclamation seems necessary after—But, from what Marcus says, in the preceding line: “Alas! my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.” Ritson.

Note return to page 708 3And buz lamenting doings in the air?] Lamenting doings is a very idle expression, and conveys no idea. I read—dolings. The alteration which I have made, though it is but the addition of a single letter, is a great increase to the sense; and though, indeed, there is somewhat of tautology in the epithet and substantive annexed to it, yet that's no new thing with our author. Theobald. There is no need of change. Sad doings for any unfortunate event, is a common though not an elegant expression. Steevens.

Note return to page 709 4Ah, sirrah!] This was formerly not a disrespectful expression. Poins uses the same address to the Prince of Wales. See vol. xvi. p. 205, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 710 5Yet I do think, &c.] Do was inserted by me for the sake of the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 711 6&lblank; Tully's Orator.] The moderns—oratory. The old copies read—Tully's oratour; meaning, perhaps, Tully De Oratore. Steevens. “&lblank; Tully's Orator.” Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, addressed to Brutus, and entitled Orator. The quantity of Latin words was formerly little attended to. Mr. Rowe, and all the subsequent editors, read—Tully's oratory. Malone.

Note return to page 712 7Soft! see, how busily, &c.] Old copies— “Soft, so busily,” &c. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. The edition 1600 also reads—Soft, so busilie. Todd.

Note return to page 713 8&lblank; how she quotes the leaves.] To quote, is to observe. See a note on Hamlet, Act II. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 714 9Magne Dominator poli, &c.] Magne Regnator Deum, &c. is the exclamation of Hippolytus when Phædra discovers the secret of her incestuous passion in Seneca's tragedy. Steevens. “Magne Dominator poli.” The edition 1600 reads—“Magni Dominator poli.” Todd. Such is also the reading of quarto 1611. Boswell.

Note return to page 715 1And swear with me,—as with the woful feere,] The old copies do not only assist us to find the true reading by conjecture. I will give an instance, from the first folio, of a reading (incontestably the true one) which has escaped the laborious researches of the many most diligent criticks, who have favoured the world with editions of Shakspeare: “My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; “And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; “And swear with me, as with the woeful peer, “And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, “Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape &lblank;.” What meaning has hitherto been annexed to the word peer, in this passage, I know not. The reading of the first folio is feere, which signifies a companion, and here metaphorically a husband. The proceeding of Brutus, which is alluded to, is described at length in our author's Rape of Lucrece, as putting an end to the lamentations of Collatinus and Lucretius, the husband and father of Lucretia. So, in Sir Eglamour of Artoys, sig. A 4: “Christabell, your daughter free, “When shall she have a fere?” i. e. husband. Sir Thomas More's Lamentation on the Death of Queen Elizabeth, Wife of Henry VII.: “Was I not a king's fere in marriage?” And again: “Farewell my daughter Katherine, late the fere “To prince Arthur.” Tyrwhitt. The word feere or pheere very frequently occurs among the old dramatick writers and others. So, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, Morose says: “&lblank; her that I mean to choose for my bed-pheere.” And many other places. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 2&lblank; let it alone;] In edit. 1600, it is wanting. Todd.

Note return to page 717 3And with a gad of steel &lblank;] A gad, from the Saxon &yogh;ad, i. e. the point of a spear, is used here for some similar pointed instrument. Malone.

Note return to page 718 4&lblank; the angry northern wind Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad,] &lblank; Foliis tantum ne carmina manda, Ne turbata volent rapidis ludibria ventis. Æn. vi. 75. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 5Revenge the heavens &lblank;] We should read: “Revenge thee, heavens &lblank;.” Warburton. It should be: “Revenge, ye heavens &lblank;.” Ye was by the transcriber taken for y, the. Johnson. I believe the old reading is right, and signifies—‘may the heavens revenge,’ &c. Steevens. I believe we should read: “Revenge then heavens.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 720 6Gramercy,] i. e. grand merci, great thanks. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 7Here's no sound jest!] Thus the old copies. This mode of expression was common formerly; so, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Here's no fine villainy!”—We yet talk of giving a sound drubbing. Mr. Theobald, however, and the modern editors, read— “Here's no fond jest.” Malone. The old reading is undoubtedly the true one. So, in King Richard III.: “Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly.” See also Romeo and Juliet, Act IV. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 722 8&lblank; the weapons &lblank;] Edit. 1600—them weapons. Todd.

Note return to page 723 9Out, out,] The second interjection, which is wanting in the old copies, I have inserted for the sake of metre. Steevens. “Out, out, you whore!” The edition 1600 reads: “Zounds, you whore.” Todd. This proves that Mr. Steevens's insertion of the second out was erroneous. Malone.

Note return to page 724 1Done! that which thou &lblank;] Done! which is wanting in the old copies, was very properly added, for the sake of measure, by Mr. Capell. Steevens.

Note return to page 725 2Done! that which thou Canst not undo.] The edition 1600 reads: “Dem. Villaine what hast thou done? “Aar. That which thou canst not vndoe.” Todd.

Note return to page 726 3Thou hast undone &lblank;] Edition 1600 reads: “Thou hast undone her.” Todd.

Note return to page 727 4Villain, I have done thy mother.] To do is here used obscenely. So, in Taylor the Water Poet's character of a Prostitute: “She's facile fieri; (quickly wonne,) “Or, const'ring truly, easy to be done.” Collins.

Note return to page 728 5It shall not die.] We may suppose that the measure here was originally perfect, and stood thus: “I say, it shall not die.” Steevens.

Note return to page 729 6I'll broach the tadpole &lblank;] A broach is a spit. ‘I'll spit the tadpole.’ Johnson. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “I'll broach thee on my steel.” Again, in Greene's Pleasant Discovery of the Cosenage of Colliers, 1592: “&lblank; with that she caught a spit in her hand, and swore if he offered to stirre, she should therewith broach him.” Collins. So also, in Lust's Dominion, by Marlowe, a play, in its style, bearing, I think, a near resemblance to Titus Andronicus, Eleazar, the Moor, a character of unmingled ferocity, like Aaron, and, like him, the paramour of a royal mistress, exclaims: “&lblank; Run, and with a voice “Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten “To Roderigo and the Cardinal: “Seek no queens here, I'll broach them, if they do, “Upon my falchion's point.” Boswell.

Note return to page 730 7Ye white-lim'd walls!] The old copies have—white limb'd. The word intended, I think, was—white limn'd. Mr. Pope, and the subsequent editors, read—white lim'd. Malone. I read—lim'd, because I never found the term—limn'd, employed to describe white-washing, and because in Midsummer-Night's Dream, we have— “This man, with lime, and rough-cast, doth present “Wall.” A layer-on of white-wash is not a limner. Limning comprehends the idea of delineation. Steevens.

Note return to page 731 8In that it scorns to bear another hue:] Thus both the quarto and the folio. Some modern editions had seems instead of scorns, which was restored by Dr. Johnson. Malone. Scorns should undoubtedly be inserted in the text. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 732 9&lblank; for this foul escape.] This foul illegitimate child. Malone. So, in King John: “No scape of nature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 733 1&lblank; ignomy.] i. e. ignominy. See vol. ix. p. 87, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 734 2The close enacts and counsels of the heart!] So, in Othello: They are close denotements working from the heart &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 735 3&lblank; another leer:] Leer is complexion, or hue. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; a Rosalind of a better leer than you.” See Mr. Tollet's note on Act IV. Sc. I. In the notes on the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. vol. iv. p. 320, lere is supposed to mean skin. So, in Isumbras, MS. Cott. Cal. II. fol. 129: “His lady is white as wales bone, “Here lere brygte to se upon, “So faire as blosme on tre.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne. MS: “Tho spake, Roulande with hevy cheere “Woordes lamentable, “When he saugh the ladies so whyte of lere “Faile brede on theire table.” Steevens.

Note return to page 736 4&lblank; that womb] Edition, 1600—your womb. Todd.

Note return to page 737 5Two may keep counsel, when the third's away:] This proverb is introduced likewise in Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Steevens.

Note return to page 738 6&lblank; one Muliteus lives,] The word lives, which is wanting in the old copies, was supplied by Mr. Rowe. Malone. “&lblank; Muliteus &lblank;.” This line being too long by a foot, Muliteus, no Moorish name, (or indeed any name at all,) and the verb —lives wanting to the sense in the old copy, I suspect the designation of Aaron's friend to be a corruption, and that our author wrote: “Not far, one Muley lives, my countryman.” “Muley lives” was easily changed by a blundering transcriber, or printer, into—Muliteus. Steevens.

Note return to page 739 7Go pack with him,] Pack here seems to have the meaning of make a bargain. Or it may mean, as in the phrase of modern gamesters, to act collusively: “And mighty dukes pack knaves for half a crown.” Pope. To pack is to contrive insidiously. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; snuffs and packings of the dukes.” Steevens. To ‘pack a jury,’ is an expression still used; though the practice, I trust, is obsolete. Henley.

Note return to page 740 8&lblank; that I &lblank;] That omitted in edition 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 741 9And feed &lblank;] This verb having occurred in the line immediately preceding, Sir T. Hanmer with great probability, reads: “And feast on curds, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 742 1&lblank; now &lblank;] This syllable, which is necessary to the metre, but wanting in the first folio, is supplied by the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 743 2&lblank; catch her in the sea.] So the 4to. 1600, that of 1611, and the folio, read—find. Malone. “Catch her, &c.” The better reading, I think. Todd.

Note return to page 744 3Yet wrung with wrongs,] To wring a horse is to press or strain his back. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “Our withers are unwrung.” Steevens.

Note return to page 745 4&lblank; to wreak &lblank;] i. e. revenge. So, in p. 350: “Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks?” Again, in Chapman's version of the fifth Iliad: “&lblank; and justice might enforce “The wreake he took on Troy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 746 5To Saturn, Caius, &c.] Old copies: “To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine.” For Caius Mr. Rowe substituted—Cœlus. Steevens. Saturnine was corrected by Mr. Rowe. To was inadvertently repeated by the compositor. Caius appears to have been one of the kinsmen of Titus. Publius and Sempronius have been already mentioned. Publius and Caius, are again introduced in Act V. Sc. II.: “Tit. Publius, come hither; Caius and Valentine.” The modern editors read—To Saturn, to Cœlum, &c. Malone. I have always read—Cælus, i. e. the Roman deity of that name. Steevens.

Note return to page 747 6&lblank; loose you.] For the insertion of you, which completes the measure, I am answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 748 7&lblank; shoot all your shafts into the court;] In the ancient ballad of Titus Andronicus's Complaint, is the following passage: “Then past reliefe I upp and downe did goe, “And with my tears wrote in the dust my woe: “I shot my arrowes towards heaven hie, “And for revenge to hell did often crye.” On this Dr. Percy has the following observation: “If the ballad was written before the play, I should suppose this to be only a metaphorical expression, taken from the Psalms: “They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words,” Psalm lxiv. 3. Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 228, third edition. Steevens.

Note return to page 749 8&lblank; I aim a mile beyond the moon;] To “cast beyond the moon,” is an expression used in Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606. Again, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “Risio hath gone beyond himself in casting beyond the moon.” Again, in A Woman kill'd with Kindness, 1617: “&lblank; I talk of things impossible, “And cast beyond the moon.” Steevens. “&lblank; I aim a mile beyond the moon.” Thus the quarto and folio. Mr. Rowe for aim substituted am, which has been adopted by all the modern editors. Malone.

Note return to page 750 8&lblank; your lordship &lblank;] Edition 1600:—his lordship. Todd.

Note return to page 751 9&lblank; I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life.] Perhaps, in this instance also, the Clown was designed to blunder, by saying, (as does the Dairy-maid in a modern farce) Jew Peter, instead of Jupiter. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 1&lblank; the tribunal plebs,] I suppose the Clown means to say, Plebeian tribune, i. e. tribune of the people; for none could fill this office but such as were descended from Plebeian ancestors. Steevens. Sir T. Hanmer supposes that he means—tribunus plebis. Malone.

Note return to page 753 2&lblank; as do &lblank;] These two words were supplied by Mr. Rowe; who also in the concluding lines of this speech substituted—if she sleep, &c. for, if he sleep, and—as she, for, as he. Malone.

Note return to page 754 3&lblank; even with law,] Thus the second folio. The first, unmetrically, —even with the law. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 4&lblank; the anchor's in the port.] Edition 1600 reads—the anchor in the port. Todd.

Note return to page 756 5Enter Æmilius.] [Old copy—Nuntius Æmilius.] In the author's manuscript, I presume, it was writ, Enter Nuntius; and they observing, that he is immediately called Æmilius, thought proper to give him his whole title, and so clapped in— Enter Nuntius Æmilius,—Mr. Pope has very critically followed them; and ought, methinks, to have given this new-adopted citizen Nuntius, a place in the Dramatis Personæ. Theobald. The edition 1600 reads as in Theobald's old copy. Todd.

Note return to page 757 6Arm, arm, my lords;] The second arm is wanting in the old copies. Malone. Arm is here used as a dissyllable. Malone. i. e. to those who can so pronounce it. I continue, for the sake of metre, to repeat the word—arm, May I add, that having seen very correct and harmonious lines of Mr. Malone's composition, I cannot suppose, if he had written a tale of persecuted love, he would have ended it with such a couplet as follows?—and yet, according to his present position, if arms be a dissyllable, it must certainly be allowed to rhyme with any word of corresponding sound;—for instance: “Escaping thus aunt Tabby's larums, “They triumph'd in each other's arms.” i. e. arums. But let the reader determine on the pretension of arms to rank as a dissyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 758 7Myself hath often over-heard &lblank;] Self was used formerly as a substantive and written separately from the pronominal adjective: my self. The late editors, not attending to this, read, after Sir Thomas Hanmer,—have often.—Over, which is not in the old copies, was supplied by Mr. Theobald. Malone. Over is wanting in edition 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 759 8&lblank; imperious, like thy name.] Imperious was formerly used for imperial. See Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. II.: “The imperious seas, &c. Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 760 9&lblank; stint their melody:] i. e. stop their melody. Malone. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; it stinted, and cried—ay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 761 1&lblank; honey-stalks to sheep;] Honey-stalks are clover flowers, which contain a sweet juice. It is common for cattle to overcharge themselves with clover, and die. Johnson. Clover has the effect that Johnson mentions, on black cattle, but not on sheep. Besides, these honey-stalks, whatever they may be, are described as rotting the sheep, not as bursting them; whereas clover is the wholesomest food you can give them. M. Mason. Perhaps, the author was not so skilful a farmer as the commentator. Malone.

Note return to page 762 2&lblank; be our embassador:] The old copies read—to be, &c. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 763 3&lblank; on hostage &lblank;] Old copies—in hostage. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 764 4&lblank; successfully,] The old copies read—successantly; a mere blunder of the press. Steevens. Whether the author of this play had any authority for this word, I know not; but I suspect he had not. In the next Act he with equal licence uses rapine for rape. By successantly, I suppose, he meant successfully. Malone.

Note return to page 765 5&lblank; scath,] i. e. harm. See vol. xv. p. 225, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 766 6To gaze upon a ruinous monastery;] Shakspeare has so perpetually offended against chronology in all his plays, that no very conclusive argument can be deduced from the particular absurdity of these anachronisms, relative to the anthenticity of Titus Andronicus. And yet the ruined monastery, the popish tricks, &c. that Aaron talks of, and especially the French salutation from the mouth of Titus, are altogether so very much out of place that I cannot persuade myself even our hasty poet could have been guilty of their insertion, or would have permitted them to remain, had he corrected the performance for another. Steevens.

Note return to page 767 7This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye;] Alluding to the proverb, “A black man is a pearl in a fair woman's eye.” Malone.

Note return to page 768 8&lblank; No:] This necessary syllable, though wanting in the first folio, is found in the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 769 9Get me a ladder. Aar. Lucius, save the child;] All the printed editions have given this whole verse to Aaron. But why should the Moor ask for a ladder, who earnestly wanted to have his child saved? Theobald. “Get me a ladder,” may mean, hang me. Steevens. These words,—“Get me a ladder,” are given to Aaron, in edit. 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 770 1Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd:] I suppose we should read—pitilessly, not piteously. M. Mason. Is there such a word as that recommended? Piteously means, in a manner exciting pity. Steevens.

Note return to page 771 2&lblank; buried by my death,] Edition 1600—in my death. Todd.

Note return to page 772 3&lblank; his bauble &lblank;] See a note on All's Well that Ends Well, vol. x. p. 460, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 773 4And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears;] Alluding perhaps to a custom mentioned in Genesis, xxiv. 9: “And the servant put his hand under the thigh of Abraham his master, and sware to him concerning that matter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 5&lblank; luxurious woman!] i. e. lascivious woman. Malone.

Note return to page 775 6That codding spirit &lblank;] i. e. that love of bed-sports. Cod is a word still used in Yorkshire for a pillow. See Lloyd's catalogue of local words at the end of Ray's Proverbs. Thus also, in A. Wyntown's Cronykil, b. ix. ch. vi. 147: “The Byschape Waltyr, qwhen he wes dede “That succedyt in his stede, “Gave twa lang coddis of welwete, “That on the awtare oft is sete.” Collins.

Note return to page 776 7As true a dog as ever fought at head.] An allusion to bulldogs, whose generosity and courage are always shown by meeting the bull in front, and seizing his nose. Johnson. So, in A Collection of Epigrams, by J. D. [John Davies] and C. M. [Christopher Marlowe,] printed at Middleburgh, no date: “&lblank; Amongst the dogs and beares he goes; “Where, while he skipping cries—To head,—to head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 777 8I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole, &lblank; I wrote the letter, &c.] Perhaps Young had this speech in his thoughts, when he made his Moor say: “I urg'd Don Carlos to resign his mistress; “I forg'd the letter; I dispos'd the picture; “I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy.” Malone.

Note return to page 778 9She swounded &lblank;] When this play was written, the verb to swound, which we now write swoon, was in common use. Malone. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “All in gore blood; I swounded at the sight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 779 1Goth. What! canst thou say all this, and never blush? Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is.] To blush like a black dog appears from Ray, p. 218, to have been proverbial. Reed.

Note return to page 780 2Make poor men's cattle break their necks;] Two syllables have been inadvertently omitted; perhaps—and die. Malone. In my opinion, some other syllables should be sought, to fill this chasm; for if the cattle broke their necks, it was rather unnecessary for us to be informed that—they died. Steevens.

Note return to page 781 3And nothing grieves me, &c.] Marlowe has been supposed to be the author of this play, and whoever will read the conversation between Barabas and Ithimore in the Jew of Malta, Act II. and compare it with these sentiments of Aaron in the present scene, will perceive much reason for the opinion. Reed.

Note return to page 782 4Bring down the devil;] It appears from these words, that the audience were entertained with part of the apparatus of an execution, and that Aaron was mounted on a ladder, as ready to be turned off. Steevens.

Note return to page 783 5&lblank; March &lblank;] Perhaps this is a mere stage-direction which has crept into the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 6Titus, &c.] Perhaps this imperfect line was originally completed thus: “Titus, I am come to talk with thee awhile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 785 7&lblank; action?] Thus the folio. The quarto, perhaps unintelligibly —that accord. Steevens.

Note return to page 786 8&lblank; stump, these crimson lines:] The old copies derange the metre by reading, with useless repetition: “&lblank; stump, witness these crimson lines &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 787 9Provide thee proper palfries, black as jet,] The old copies, poorly, and with disregard of metre, read: “Provide thee two proper palfries, as black as jet &lblank;.” The second folio indeed omits the useless and redundant—as. Steevens.

Note return to page 788 1And find out murderers, &c.] The old copies read—murder and cares. The former emendation was made by Mr. Steevens; the latter by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 789 2&lblank; Hyperion's &lblank;] The folio reads—Epton's; the quartos 1600 and 1611—Epeon's; and so Ravenscroft. Steevens. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 790 3So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.] I do not know of any instance that can be brought to prove that rape and rapine were ever used as synonymous terms. The word rapine has always been employed for a less fatal kind of plunder, and means the violent act of deprivation of any good, the honour here alluded to being always excepted. I have indeed since discovered that Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. 116, b. uses ravine in the same sense: “For if thou be of suche covine, “To get of love by ravyne “Thy love,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 791 4Are they &lblank;] Thus the second folio. The first, contemning grammar—Are them. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Phraseology, Boswell.

Note return to page 792 5&lblank; and Demetrius.] And was inserted by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 793 6And of the paste a coffin &lblank;] A coffin is the term of art for the cavity of a raised pye. Johnson. So, in the Seventh Book of Gawin Douglas's translation of the Æneid, v. 50: “And with thare handis brek and chaftis gnaw “The crustis, and the coffingis all on raw.” Again, in the Boke of Kerving: “All bake metes that ben hot, open them above the coffyn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 794 7&lblank; her own increase.] i. e. her own produce. See vol. xv. p. 142, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 795 8And ours, with thine,] And our content runs parallel with thine, be the consequence of our coming to Rome what it may. Malone.

Note return to page 796 9&lblank; the empress' face,] The quarto has—emperours; the folio—emperous. For the emendation I am answerable. Malone. Mr. Malone says, the quarto of 1611 has—emperours; and that he is answerable for the emendation—empress. The quarto of 1600 reads exactly thus: “Te[i]ll he be brought vnto the Empresse face.” Todd.

Note return to page 797 1&lblank; break the parle;] That is, begin the parley. We yet say, he breaks his mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 798 2Was it well done of rash Virginius, To slay his daughter with his own right hand, &c.] Mr. Rowe might have availed himself of this passage in The Fair Penitent, where Sciolto asks Calista: “Hast thou not heard what brave Virginius did? “With his own hand he slew his only daughter,” &c. Titus Andronicus, however, is incorrect in his statement of this occurrence, for Virginia died unviolated. Steevens. And therefore he says that he had “more cause” than Virginius. Boswell.

Note return to page 799 3Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.] The additions made by Ravenscroft to this scene, are so much of a piece with it, that I cannot resist the temptation of showing the reader how he continues the speech before us: “Thus cramm'd, thou'rt bravely fatten'd up for hell, “And thus to Pluto I do serve thee up. “[Stabs the emperess.” And then—“A curtain drawn discovers the heads and hands of Demetrius and Chiron hanging up against the wall; their bodies in chairs in bloody linen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 800 4Sen. Lest Rome, &c.] This speech and the next, in the quarto 1611, are given to a Roman lord. In the folio they both belong to the Goth. I know not why they are separated. I believe the whole belongs to Marcus; who, when Lucius has gone through such a part of the narrative as concerns his own exile, claims his turn to speak again, and recommend Lucius to the empire. Steevens. I have followed the quarto, where the words Roman lord, [i. e. Senator,] are prefixed to this speech. The copy, however, reads—“Let Rome,” &c. which I have no doubt was an error of the press for Lest. The editor of the folio finding the sentiment as exhibited in the quarto, in consequence of this error, not proper in the mouth of a Roman, for Roman lord substituted Goth. In correcting the errors of the quartos, the editor of the folio appears often to have only looked on the surface, and to have consequently made several injudicious emendations beside the present. Mr. Capell, I find, has made the same emendation. The error here corrected has likewise happened in the quarto copies of Hamlet, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; let my extent to the players—should more appear like entertainment than yours:” —instead of—“Lest my extent,” &c. As this speech proceeds in an uniform tenor with the foregoing, the whole (as Mr. Steevens has observed,) probably belongs to Marcus. Malone.

Note return to page 801 5&lblank; and basely cozen'd &lblank;] i. e. and he basely cozened. Malone.

Note return to page 802 6Damn'd as he is,] The old copies read—“And as he is.” The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald. The same expression (as he observed) is used in Othello: “O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? “Damn'd as thou art, thou hast inchanted her.” In the play before us the same epithet is applied to Aaron: “See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor.” Malone.

Note return to page 803 7&lblank; what cause &lblank;] Old copies—what course. Corrected in the fourth folio. Malone.

Note return to page 804 8The poor remainder of Adronici Will &lblank; cast us down,] i. e. We the poor remainder, &c. will cast us down. Malone.

Note return to page 805 9Rom. Lucius, all hail; &c.] This line here, and the same words below, are given in the old copy by mistake to Marcus. It it manifest, as Mr. Steevens has observed, that they both belong to the surrounding concourse of Romans, who with one voice hail Lucius as their emperor. Malone. This same mistake is in the quarto 1600. Todd.

Note return to page 806 1&lblank; thy blood-stain'd face,] The old copies have— “&lblank; thy blood-slain face.” Corrected in the fourth folio. Malone.

Note return to page 807 2Shed yet some small drops &lblank; Because kind nature doth require it so:] Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; fond nature bids us all lament &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 808 3&lblank; to see him fasten'd in the earth.] That justice and cookery may go hand in hand to the conclusion of this play, in Ravenscroft's alteration of it, Aaron is at once racked and roasted on the stage. Steevens.

Note return to page 809 4See justice done to Aaron,] The quarto 1600 reads—done on Aaron. Todd.

Note return to page 810 5Then, afterwards, to order, &c.] ‘Then will we apply ourselves to regulate the state. Malone.

Note return to page 811 6This is one of those plays which I have always thought, with the better judges, ought not to be acknowledged in the list of Shakspeare's genuine pieces. And, perhaps, I may give a proof to strengthen this opinion, that may put the matter out of question. Ben Jonson, in the Introduction to his Bartholomew-Fair, which made its first appearance in the year 1614, couples Jeronymo and Andronicus together in reputation, and speaks of them as plays then twenty-five or thirty years standing. Consequently Andronicus must have been on the stage before Shakspeare left Warwickshire, to come and reside in London: and I never heard it so much as intimated, that he had turned his genius to stage-writing before he associated with the players, and became one of their body. However, that he afterwards introduced came one of their body. However, that he afterwards introduced it a-new on the stage, with the addition of his own masterly touches, is incontestable, and thence, I presume, grew his title to it. The diction in general, where he has not taken the pains to raise it, is even beneath that of the Three Parts of Henry VI. The story we are to suppose merely fictitious. Andronicus is a sur-name of pure Greek derivation. Tamora is neither mentioned by Ammianus Marcellinus, nor any body else that I can find. Nor had Rome, in the time of her emperors, any war with the Goths that I know of: not till after the translation of the empire, I mean to Byzantium. And yet the scene of our play is laid at Rome, and Saturninus is elected to the empire at the Capitol. Theobald, All the editors and criticks agree with Mr. Theobald in supposing this play spurious. I see no reason for differing from them; for the colour of the style is wholly different from that of the other plays, and there is an attempt at regular versification, and artificial closes, not always inelegant, yet seldom pleasing. The barbarity of the spectacles, and the general massacre, which are here exhibited, can scarcely be conceived tolerable to any audience; yet we are told by Jonson, that they were not only borne but praised. That Shakspeare wrote any part, though Theobald declares it incontestable, I see no reason for believing. The testimony produced at the beginning of this play, by which it is ascribed to Shakspeare, is by no means equal to the argument against its authenticity, arising from the total difference of conduct, language, and sentiments, by which it stands apart from all the rest. Meres had probably no other evidence than that of a title-page, which, though in our time it be sufficient, was then of no great authority; for all the plays which were rejected by the first collectors of Shakspeare's works, and admitted in later editions, and again rejected by the critical editors, had Shakspeare's name on the title, as we must suppose, by the fraudulence of the printers, who, while there were yet no gazettes, nor advertisements, nor any means of circulating literary intelligence, could usurp at pleasure any celebrated name. Nor had Shakspeare any interest in detecting the imposture, as none of his fame or profit was produced by the press. The chronology of this play does not prove it not to be Shakspeare's. If it had been written twenty-five years in 1614, it might have been written when Shakspeare was twenty-five years old. When he left Warwickshire I know not, but at the age of twenty-five it was rather too late to fly for deer-stealing. Ravenscroft, who in the reign of James II. revised this play, and restored it to the stage, tells us, in his preface, from a theatrical tradition, I suppose, which in his time might be of sufficient authority, that this play was touched in different parts by Shakspeare, but written by some other poet. I do not find Shakspeare's touches very discernible. Johnson. There is every reason to believe, that Shakspeare was not the author of this play. I have already said enough upon the subject. Mr. Upton declares peremptorily, that it ought to be flung out of the list of our author's works: yet Mr. Warner, with all his laudable zeal for the memory of his school-fellow, when it may seem to serve his purpose, disables his friend's judgment! Indeed a new argument has been produced; it must have been written by Shakspeare, because at that time other people wrote in the same manner* [Subnote: *Capell thought Edward III. was Shakspeare's because nobody could write so, and Titus Andronicus because every body could! Well fare his heart, for he is a jewel of a reasoner! Farmer.] ! It is scarcely worth observing, that the original publisher† [Subnote: †The original owner of the copy was John Danter, who likewise printed the first edition of Romeo and Juliet in 1597, and is introduced as a character in The Return from Parnassus, &c. 1606. Steevens.] had nothing to do with any of the rest of Shakspeare's works. Dr. Johnson observes the copy to be as correct as other books of the time; and probably revised by the author himself; but surely Shakspeare would not have taken the greatest care about infinitely the worst of his performances! Nothing more can be said, except that it is printed by Heminge and Condell in the first folio: but not to insist, that it had been contrary to their interest to have rejected any play, usually called Shakspeare's, though they might know it to be spurious; it does not appear, that their knowledge is at all to be depended on; for it is certain, that in the first copies they had entirely omitted the play of Troilus and Cressida. It has been said, that this play was first printed for G. Eld, 1394, but the original publisher was Edward White. I have seen in an old catalogue of Tales, &c. the history of Titus Andronicus. Farmer. I have already given the reader a specimen of the changes made in this play by Ravenscroft, who revised it with success in the year 1687; and may add, that when the Empress stabs her child, he has supplied the Moor with the following lines: “She has outdone me, ev'n in mine own art, “Outdone me in murder, kill'd her own child; “Give it me, I'll eat it.” It rarely happens that a dramatick piece is altered with the same spirit that it was written; but Titus Andronicus has undoubtedly fallen into the hands of one whose feelings and imagination were congenial with those of its original author. In the course of the notes on this performance, I have pointed out a passage or two which, in my opinion, sufficiently prove it to have been the work of one who was acquainted both with Greek and Roman literature. It is likewise deficient in such internal marks as distinguish the tragedies of Shakspeare from those of other writers; I mean, that it presents no struggles to introduce the vein of humour so constantly interwoven with the business of his serious dramas. It can neither boast of his striking excellencies, nor his acknowledged defects; for it offers not a single interesting situation, a natural character, or a string of quibbles from first to last. That Shakspeare should have written without commanding our attention, moving our passions, or sporting with words, appears to me as improbable, as that he should have studiously avoided dissyllable and trisyllable terminations in this play, and in no other. Let it likewise be remembered that this piece was not published with the name of Shakspeare till after his death. The quarto in 1611 is anonymous. Could the use of particular terms employed in no other of his pieces be admitted as an argument that he was not its author, more than one of these might be found; among which is palliament for robe, a Latinism which I have not met with elsewhere in any English writer, whether ancient or modern; though it must have originated from the mint of a scholar. I may add, that Titus Andronicus will be found on examination to contain a greater number of classical allusions, &c. than are scattered over all the rest of the performances on which the seal of Shakspeare is indubitably fixed.—Not to write any more about and about this suspected thing, let me observe that the glitter of a few passages in it has perhaps misled the judgment of those who ought to have known, that both sentiment and description are more easily produced than the interesting fabrick of a tragedy. Without these advantages many plays have succeeded; and many have failed, in which they have been dealt about with the most lavish profusion. It does not follow, that he who can carve a freize with minuteness, elegance, and ease, has a conception equal to the extent, propriety, and grandeur of a temple. Steevens. Dr. Johnson is not quite accurate in what he has asserted concerning the seven spurious plays, which the printer of the folio in 1664 improperly admitted into his volume. The name of Shakspeare appears only in the title-pages of four of them; Pericles, Sir John Oldcastle, The London Prodigal, and The Yorkshire Tragedy. To the word palliament mentioned by Mr. Steevens in the preceding note, may be added the words accite, candidatus, and sacred in the sense of accursed; and the following allusions, and scraps of Latin, which are found in this lamentable tragedy; “As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. &lblank;.” “More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast.” “The self-same gods that arm'd the queen of Troy “With opportunity of sharp revenge “Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent.” “&lblank; But safer is this funeral pomp, “That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness.” “Why suffer'st thou thy sons unbury'd yet “To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?” “The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax “That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son “Did graciously plead for his funeral.” “He would have dropp'd his knife, and fallen asleep, “As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.” “To bid Æneas tell the tale twice o'er, “How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable.” “Was it well done of rash Virginius, “To slay his daughter with his own right hand?” “Believe me, queen, your swart Cimmerian “Doth make your honour of his body's hue.” “But sure some Tereus hath deflowred thee, “And, lest thou should detect him, cut thy tongue.” “That, like the stately Phœbe 'mong her nymphs, “Dost overshine the gallant dames of Rome.” “No man shed tears for noble Mutius, “He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.” “I tell you younglings, not Enceladus, “With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood, “Nor great Alcides,” &c. “I'll dive into the burning lake below, “And pull her out of Acheron by the heels.” “I come, Semiramis; nay, barbarous Tamora.” “And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes, “Than is Prometheus ty'd to Caucasus.” “Per Styga, per manes, vehor &lblank;,” “Sit fas, aut nefas &lblank;, “Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh.” “Suum cuique is our Roman justice.” “&lblank; Magni dominator poli, “Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?” “Integer vitæ,” “Terras Astræa reliquit.” Similar scraps of Latin are found in the old play of King John, and in many other of the dramatick pieces written by our author's predecessors. Malone. It must prove a circumstance of consummate mortification to the living criticks on Shakspeare, as well as a disgrace on the memory of those who have ceased to comment and collate, when it shall appear from the sentiments of one of their own fraternity (who cannot well be suspected of asinine tastelessness, or Gothick pre-possessions,) that we have been all mistaken as to the merits and author of this play. It is scarce necessary to observe that the person exempted from these suspicions is Mr. Capell, who delivers his opinion concerning Titus Andronicus in the following words: “To the editor's eye, [i. e. his own,] Shakspeare stands confess'd: the third Act in particular may be read with admiration even by the most delicate; who, if they are not without feelings, may chance to find themselves touch'd by it with such passions as tragedy should excite, that is,—terror and pity.” It were injustice not to remark, that the grand and pathetick circumstances in this third Act, which we are told cannot fail to excite such vehement emotions, are as follows:—Titus lies down in the dirt.—Aaron chops off his hand.—Saturninus sends him the heads of his two sons, and his own hand again, for a present.—His heroick brother Marcus kills a fly. Mr. Capell may likewise claim the honour of having produced the new argument which Dr. Farmer mentions in a preceding note. Steevens. To this note the name of Mr. Malone has hitherto been affixed; but he told me himself that it was written by Mr. Steevens, who, with a jocular air, insisted upon ascribing it to him. “I believe, (my late friend added) that when he did so, he was aware of what would follow: for I got all the Capells upon my back in consequence.” I know not why he suffered his name to remain. Perhaps from an unwillingness to acknowledge that he had been the dupe of Mr. Steevens's waggery; but I can see no reason now for not setting the matter right. The note bears no sort of resemblance to Mr. Malone's manner of expressing himself. Boswell. I agree with such of the commentators as think that Shakspeare had no hand in this abominable tragedy; and consider the correctness with which it is printed, as a kind of collateral proof that he had not. The genuine works of Shakspeare have been handed down to us in in a more depraved state than those of any other contemporary writer; which was partly owing to the obscurity of his hand-writing, which appears from the fac-simile prefixed to this edition, to have been scarcely legible, and partly to his total neglect of them when committed to the press. And it is not to be supposed, that he should have taken more pains about the publication of this horrid performance, than he did in that of his noblest productions, M. Mason. The reader may possibly express some surprize on being told that Titus Andronicus was revived at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 21st of Dec. 1720. The receipt of the house was only 35l. 16s. 6d. It was acted again at the same theatre 19th of March, 1724, for the benefit of Mr. Quin. Receipt in money 80l. 6s. 6d. tickets 64l. 14s.—1451. 0s. 6d. The characters as follow:—Aaron, Mr. Quin; Titus, Mr. Boheme; Saturninus, Mr. Leigh; Bassianus, Mr. Walker; Lucius, Mr. Ryan; Marcus, Mr. Ogden; Demetrius, Mr. Digges; Chiron, Mr. Ward; Tamora, Mrs. Egleton; Lavinia, Mrs. Sterling. Again, on the 25th of April, for the benefit of Mr. Hurst, a dramatick writer. Receipt in money 18l. 2s. tickets 17l. 3s.—35l. 5s. Reed.

Note return to page 812 1This lady was Joan Woodward, to whom Edward Alleyn was married Oct. 22, 1592. Her mother, Agnes Woodward, after the death of her first husband, married Philip Henslowe, whom Alleyn calls his father, though in fact he was only step-father to his wife.

Note return to page 813 2This term of endearment occurs in Hamlet: “Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse &lblank;.” See the note there, vol. vii. p. 403.

Note return to page 814 3The great plague of 1593, whick carried off in London and its liberties, 10675 persons.

Note return to page 815 3Shakspeare and the dictionaries of his time represent rue and herb of grace as the same. From the answer to this letter it appears that the latter here means wormwood.

Note return to page 816 4Probably Richard Cowley, the actor, who at a subsequent period joined Shakspeare's company. He was now, it should seem, one of the servants of Lord Strange.

Note return to page 817 5Alleyn was at this time one of the company of players called Lord Strange's Servants, who were now strolling, or travelling in the country, as they called it, to avoid the plague raging in London.

Note return to page 818 6Harry of Cornwall was acted by Lord Stranger's Servants at Henslowe's theatre in Feb. 1591–2. See Henslowe's Register, in the History of the Stage.

Note return to page 819 7Jug was the ancient abreviation or nick-name of Joan. Coles, in his Dictionary, 1677, renders it by Joannicula.

Note return to page 820 1This ascertains the rent of the Bear Garden to have been 40l. per annum.

Note return to page 821 The following six words are a superscripted insertion to the text.

Note return to page 822 8Probably Cardinal Wolsey.

Note return to page 823 3Probably Bartholomew Fair, performed at the Hope on the Bankside, in Nov. 1613.

Note return to page 824 2Joseph Taylor in 1613 was at the head of the Lady Elizabeth's servants; this representation, therefore, was made by him and his fellows. Ph. Rosseter, Lutinist, was the preceptor of the Children of the Revels, with whom the others appear to have joined in that year.

Note return to page 825 3See a note by Mr. Ritson in Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. III.

Note return to page 826 4Defence of Poesie, near the end.

Note return to page 827 5Mirrour of Monsters, 1587, 4to. fo. 7.

Note return to page 828 6Arte of English Poesie, 1589, 4to. fo. 243.

Note return to page 829 7The Devil Is An Ass, Sc. I.

Note return to page 830 [8] The Fox, Act II. Sc. I.

Note return to page 831 9Marston's Malcontent, Sc. VII.

Note return to page 832 1See Measure for Measure.

Note return to page 833 2The Devil Is An Ass, Sc. I.

Note return to page 834 3Roman des Ducs de Normandie, MS. Reg. 4, C. xi.

Note return to page 835 4Holy State, p. 182.

Note return to page 836 5This person was probably the subject of the following lines in Bancroft's Epigrams, 1639, 4to: “How plumpe's the libertine! how rich and trimme! “He jests with others, fortune jests with him.” Mr. Garrard, in a letter to Lord Strafford, says “There is a new fool in his [Archee's] place, Muckle John, but he will ne'er be so rich, for he cannot abide money.” Strafford Papers, ii. 154.

Note return to page 837 6Biogr. Hist. of England, i. 116.

Note return to page 838 7The Woman Captain, 1680, Sc. I.

Note return to page 839 8Bigland's Collect for Gloucest.

Note return to page 840 9Perroniana, inter Scaligerana, &c. i. 115.

Note return to page 841 1Vigneul de Marville, Mêlanges, ii. 50.

Note return to page 842 2Table Talk, Art. Evil-speaking.

Note return to page 843 3This appears from many of our old plays. Lear threatens his fool with the whip, Act I. Sc. IV.; and see As You Like It, Act I. Sc. II. In Dr. Turner's New Booke of Spirituall Physik, 1555, 12mo. fo. 8, there is a very curious story of John of Low, the king of Scotland's fool, which throws light on the subject in question. Yet the chastising of the poor fools seems to have been a very unfair practice, when it is considered that they were a privileged class with respect to their wit and satire. Olivia, in Twelfth Night, says, that “there is no slander in an allowed fool though he do nothing but rail;” and Jacques, in As You Like It, alludes to the above privilege. See likewise other instances in Reed's Old Plays, iii. 253, and xi. 417. Yet in cases where the free discourse of fools gave just offence to the ears of modest females they seem to have been treated without mercy, and to have forfeited their usual privilege. This we learn from Brantôme, who, at the end of his Dames Galantes, relates a story of a fool belonging to Elizabeth of France, who got a whipping in the kitchen for a licentious speech to his mistress. A representation of the manner in which the flagellation of fools was performed may be seen in a German edition of Pertrarch De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ, published more than once at Frankfort, in the sixteenth century, part ii. chap. 100.

Note return to page 844 4See his note in All's Well That Ends Well, Act I. Sc. III.

Note return to page 845 3Plate V. Hence the French call a bauble marotte, from Marionnette, or little Mary: but if the learned reader should prefer to derive the word from the Greek &grm;&gro;&grr;&gro;&grst;, or the Latin morio, he is at full liberty to do so; and indeed such preference would be supported by the comparatively modern figure of the child's head, which the term marotte might have suggested. The bauble originally used in King Lear is said to have been extant so late as the time of Garrick, and the figure of it would certainly have been worth preserving. A bauble is very often improperly put into the hands of Momus.

Note return to page 846 4See Strutt's Dress and Habits of the People of England, plate LXXI.

Note return to page 847 5Blomefield's Hist. of Norfolk, ii. 737.

Note return to page 848 6In the Imperial Library at Vienna, there is a manuscript calendar, said to have been written in the time of Constantius the son of Constantine the Great, with drawings of the twelve months. April is represented as a man dancing with a crotalum in each hand. This instrument was probably constructed of brass, in order to make a rattling noise. See it represented in a print in Lambecii Bibl. Cæsar. Vindobon. tom. iv. p. 291. These months are also given in Montfaucon's Antiquities.

Note return to page 849 7See Ben Jonson's Devil Is An Ass, Sc. I.

Note return to page 850 8Penry's O Read Over John Bridges, fo. 48.

Note return to page 851 9Prologue to King Henry the Eighth. Marston's Malcontent, Act I. Sc. VII. and Act III. Sc. I.

Note return to page 852 1See Henslowe's MSS. vol. iii. p. 210.

Note return to page 853 2Coryat's Crudities, p. 9, edit. 1611, 4to. Brand's Observ. on Popular Antiquities, p. 176.

Note return to page 854 3See the notes on a passage in King John, vol. xv. p. 271. “The scribe claims the manor of Noverinte, by providing sheep-skins and calves skins to wrappe his highness wards and idiotts in.” Gesta Grayorum, 1688, 4to.

Note return to page 855 4See the quotation from Tarlton's Newes out of Purgatory, given in a preceding page (424). The portrait of Tarlton in Hardinge's Biographical Mirror, and a print in the title of Greene's Tu quoque, or the Cittie Gallant, show the costume of the purse and feather.

Note return to page 856 5Rabelais, book iii. ch. 45.

Note return to page 857 6This picture is very well engraven in Caulfield's Portraits of Remarkable Persons, vol. ii. There is a beautifully illuminated psalter, preserved among the royal manuscripts in the British Museum, 2 A xvi, written by John Mallard the chaplain and secretary of Henry the Eighth, with several marginal notes in the king's own hand writing, some of which are in pencil. Prefixed to Psalm 52, “Dixit insipiens,” according to a very ancient custom, are the figures of King David and a fool, in this instance evidently the portraits of Henry and his favourite Will Somers. The countenance bears a strong resemblance to that of the figure [a portrait of Wil Somers] in Holbein's picture of Henry the Eighth and his family.

Note return to page 858 7Archæologia, ix. p. 249.

Note return to page 859 8In Tatham's play of The Scot's Figgaries, 1652, 4to. the king's fool is described as habited in a long coat with a gold rope or chain about his neck.

Note return to page 860 9See the print of Archy engraved by Cecill and prefixed to his Jests, in which, unless Mr. Granger could have been certain with respect to what he has called “a parti-coloured tunic,” there is nothing discriminative of the fool's dress. This portrait has been copied in Caulfield's above-cited work.

Note return to page 861 1The Woman Captain, Sc. I.

Note return to page 862 2See Mr. Malone's Historical Account of the English Stage.

Note return to page 863 3Parfait, Histoire du theatre François, II. pp. 27, 46, 62.

Note return to page 864 4See Mr. Steeven's note at the end of the second act of The Taming of the Shrew.

Note return to page 865 5Arte of English Poesie, 69.

Note return to page 866 6See Mr. Steevens's note in King Lear, Act III. Sc. VI.

Note return to page 867 7See Mr. Malone's note in All's Well That Ends Well, Act I. Sc. III.

Note return to page 868 Comedy of Errors, vol. iv. p. 184: “Be it wrong, you are from me exempt.” Exempt, is taken away. So, in the old play of King John, Hubert, when he spares Arthur, exclaims “Go, cursed tooles, your office is exempt.”

Note return to page 869 Merchant of Venice, vol. v. p. 45: “Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table.” “Table,” says Dr. Johnson, “is the palm of the hand extended;” but he has given no instance of this usage of the word. The reader may accept of the following from Middleton's Any Thing for a Quiet Life, where the Lord Beauford is courting the citizen's wife. “Beau. Fairest one, I have skill in palmestry. Wife. Good my Lord, what do you find there? Beau. In good earnest I do find written here, all my good fortune lies in your hand. Wife. You keep a very bad house then, you may see by the smallness of the table.”

Note return to page 870 Romeo and Juliet, vol. vi. p. 265: I have mentioned that a play on this subject was written by Lopes de Vega. As the following synopsis of the plot of the Spanish play is of no great length, I have inserted it from Dr. Grey's notes on Shakespeare: “Extract from the Castelvins and Monteses, a Play of Lopes de Vega. “ACT I. “Though the whole first act passes in the city of Verona, yet there are several changes of decoration. The stage, during the first scene, represents a street, with the front of a beautiful palace, the residence of Antonio, chief of the Castelvins. “Anselm and Roselo, two young Gentlemen of the party of the Monteses, are discoursing of an entertainment given in the palace; a concert, and a masquerade; the violins are heard. Roselo shews a strong inclination to go in, and his friend dissuades him from it, by remonstrating the danger that such a rashness might bring him into, and the inexcusable crime it would appear to his father, from the hereditary hatred of their houses. “Roselo argues, That the union of a moment may perhaps happily cement the animosity of ages, which has been often near the ruin of the city: That the Monteses have been always famous for men of unconquerable valour; the Castelvins, for women of as uncommon beauty. “Lopes de Vega's expression in Spanish is, “‘Mugeres de tal belleza, que hurto la Naturaleza la estampa a los Serafines.’ “‘Women of such beauty, that Nature stole their model from the Seraphims.’ That he has an impulse not to be overcome, that urges him to believe 'tis his fate to put an end to these unhappy dissensions. “Anselm expostulates for some time, and at last yields with great difficulty to the caprice of Roselo. They determine to mask themselves, in order to go with more safety into the house of their enemy; and Marin, Roselo's valet, the buffoon of the play, trembles for his master's danger and his own, and concludes the scene with his burlesque terrors. “The scene changes to a fine garden. Some Gentlemen and Ladies seated, others walking, &c.; a band of music at the end of the stage. “Whilst the masks are dancing, Octavio (the son of Theobald) is making love to Julia (daughter to Antonio). The old men advance to the front of the stage, and testify the pleasure it would give them to unite their children. Things don't succeed just as they wish. Octavio loves Julia, but she dislikes him. “Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, join the company in disguise. The extreme beauty of Julia strikes Roselo immediately. He is lost in transport, and, in his disorder, he drops his mask. Antonio knows him that instant, and, with great indignation, whispers it to Theobald, who with difficulty persuades him not to infringe the laws of hospitality. During the dialogue, Julia and Roselo admire each other. By degrees the crowd and tumult of the assembly favour Roselo's addressing Julia. He declares his love; she listens to it without resentment. Octavio endeavours to disturb the conversation; but this does not prevent Julia from slipping a ring into Roselo's hand, and making an appointment for the following night in the garden. “The assembly breaks up, and all go off, except Julia, and Celia her confident; to whom she discovers what has passed. “The three or four following scenes pass alternately in the street, and in the house of Fabricio (Roselo's father), and are of no consequence to the subject of the play. At the close of night, the scene changes again to Antonio's garden, and Julia appears with Roselo, who has scaled the wall. This is a long scene, the most interesting of the whole, and concludes with her consenting to a private marriage. “ACT II. “The interval between the first and second act, is supposed to be taken up by the secret marriage of Roselo and Julia. Their happiness does not last long, without being interrupted by a most cruel accident. “All the Nobility of Verona are assembled, for a certain solemnity, in the great church. Dorothea, a Castelvin Lady (sister to Octavio, and daughter to Theobald), is insulted in this sacred place, and the insult is given by the servants of a Montese Lady. This insolence raises a great tumult in the church, and revives the animosity of the factions; but the Castelvins are obliged to give way to the greater number of their adversaries. “In the twelve first scenes, the decoration is a public square, at the end of which appears the front and gate of the church, where this adventure is supposed to happen. Fesennio (Theobald's servant) relates it to his master, who receives it with the utmost violence of temper, though before he had inclined to moderation. “Octavio enters, and is excited by his father to revenge Dorothea. They return into the church, to join their party. Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, enter, ignorant of what has passed. Whilst the two friends are conversing of Roselo's marriage and happiness, the church becomes a field of battle. The noise of swords and tumultuous cries are heard; and, soon after, the two parties rush in, in pursuit of their quarrel. Roselo endeavours to interpose; and after a long expostulation with Octavio, in which he proposes friendship in the kindest terms, and a double marriage (between himself and Julia; Octavio, and Dona Andrea, a Montese Lady), being insulted by Octavio, and obliged to defend himself, he at length kills him, and escapes. Maximilian, the Duke of Verona, comes too late to prevent the misfortune, and informs himself of the circumstances. All the depositions are favourable to Roselo, and acknowledge, that he did his utmost to appease the quarrel, and that Octavio forced him to defend his life. “Upon this the Prince, who esteems Roselo, and yet is unwilling to exasperate the Castelvins, as a medium, banishes him from Verona. “Roselo, then upon the point of leaving his Julia, runs all hazards to bid her farewell; and goes in the night, with Marin, to the garden, where they meet Julia and Celia; and, after a moving scene between the lovers, and a burlesque one between the confidents, they are surprised by the appearance of Antonio, and his domestics, armed, who were alarmed by a noise in the garden. Roselo and Marin escape unseen, and Julia says she came there to weep in solitude, for the unfortunate death of Octavio. Antonio applauds her humanity; and, to give her consolation, informs her of his design of marrying her to Count Paris, an amiable young Nobleman of great power. “This Count has already expressed a passion for Julia, and even demanded her in marriage; but the proposal had been waved in favour of Octavio. He is not then in Verona; Antonio therefore writes to him, and sends the letter by Fesennio. “This old servant of Theobald's finds Count Paris with Roselio at a magnificent country-seat, which makes the decoration of the three following scenes. Roselo, at his leaving the city, fell into an ambuscade, laid for him by the Castelvins, and was rescued by Paris, who has brought him to his house, and is offering to accompany him to the gates of Ferrara; when Fesennio interrupts their professions of friendship, by the delivery of the letter, which Paris imparts to Roselo. He, from the conclusion of the letter (which assures the Count of Julia's tenderness and affection for him), is seized by the most unaccountable jealousy and rage that is possible. The Count departs for Verona, assuring him, that, notwithstanding this alliance with the Castelvins, he shall always continue his friend; and Roselo remaining, concludes the act with a long soliloquy of rage and despair, which terminates in a resolution of endeavouring to shake off his passion for the unfaithful Julia, and fix his heart on some more worthy object at Ferrara. “ACT III. “During the interval between the second and third acts, the father of Julia has been attempting to force her to marry the Count: and his persecutions have been so violent, that, finding at length she shall be obliged to submit, she listens only to despair, and determines to die, rather than betray Roselo. “With this design she sends Celia to Aurelio (the priest who married her privately). He does not appear upon the stage, but is frequently mentioned. Profound learning, universal charity, and attention to the wants of the unhappy, are the distinguishing marks of his character. “Julia implores the assistance of this pious man, and informs him in her billet, that if he can find no method of preserving her from the misfortune she dreads, she shall escape from it by a voluntary death. “The beginning of the act supposes all that is here said, and the spectators are informed of it with great address. Julia and her father appear upon the stage, which represents a sallon. Antonio presses his daughter to the marriage; she excuses herself; he menaces her with his utmost indignation, and at last assures her, if she does not consent willingly, they shall find means to force her submission. “This severity constrains her to promise obedience, and her father leaves her to reflect upon her unhappy situation. Celia enters, as returned from Aurelio, and tells her, that, after showing great disorder and concern, he had retired for an hour; and then delivered her a vial for Julia to drink, which he told her he hoped would prevent all she feared. “After a moving scene of doubt, hopes, and fears, Julia drinks the composition; and immediately feeling the effects of it, imagines that by mistake, Aurelio has given her poison, and (as they both suppose) dies in the arms of Celia, recommending to her, if she ever saw Roselo, to tell him, she carried her tenderness for him to the grave, and died pronouncing his name; that she wished him to remember her with kindness, but not with pain; to be comforted, and to live happy. “The scene closes upon Julia, and her confident, and immediately changes to Ferrara. It represents a street, where two cavaliers, Ferdinand, and Rutilio, are giving a serenade to Silvia, a Lady of that city. She appears but once in the play, and that only at her window. “The persons in this scene, are entirely foreign to the subject of the play, and have not the least connexion with the Castelvins and Monteses. The author only introduces them to give Roselo an opportunity of endeavouring to revenge himself for the supposed infidelity of Julia, and the whole design is insipid and unnatural. “The day begins to dawn, Roselo comes in, and the two cavaliers and their men withdraw, without any reason, but the pleasure of the author. The young Montese makes love to Silvia, but in a way and manner, that shews his heart is full of another object, and that Julia is still the mistress of it, notwithstanding all his resolutions. “Anselm, who is come to Ferrara in search of Roselo, meets him in the street; Silvia shuts her window, and disappears. Roselo learns from Anselm what has passed: he shivers with horror, his eyes are opened, he sees how wrongfully he suspected her fidelity, and breaks out into the most moving complaints; when Anselm comforts him, by informing him of the secret of the draught, and telling him he must immediately return to Verona, and deliver her from the vault, where she was laid. “Upon this detail, which in the original is very long, Roselo begins to breathe. His hopes however are intermixed with fears; he dreads arriving too late; that Julia, awakening in that dreadful place, should die with horror, or faint away, and expire in the midst of that profound sleep: he departs immediately for Verona; Marin follows him with great regret; and, upon Anselm's describing the dreadfulness of the vault, declares he hates keeping company with the dead; and that when his master pays them a visit, he thinks it his duty to wait only at the door. “A change of scene brings the spectator back again to Verona, and to the palace of the Duke. Count Paris is there in mourning, regretting Julia, and the Duke endeavours in vain to console him. Antonio comes in, sensibly touched at the fate of his daughter: but having no heir, Maximilian proposes to him, his marrying Dorothea, his nearest relation, to hinder the great treasures he possesses, from being dispersed into different families; and he consents to it. “A new scene then appears; the family-vault of the Castelvins, surrounded with objects too melancholy for any theatre but the Spanish. Julia awakens: her amazement, her terror, her love, and surprise, furnish her in that dreadful darkness with a beautiful soliloquy, at the close of which Roselo enters. Their re-union is accompanied with the most tender, and moving sentiments. “They escape happily out of Verona; and not knowing where to conceal themselves, take refuge in a castle belonging to Julia's father, but where he never came. There the last scenes pass. “Julia, Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, are disguised like peasants. Their design is, to stay a day or two in the castle, till they find a convenience to go off; but fortune decides it otherwise. “Antonio repairs to this castle, to celebrate his marriage with Dorothea; Theobald (her father), and several other Castelvin noblemen, accompany them. Their arrival obliges Roselo and his party to conceal themselves in different parts of the castle; the keeper does not know them, but their behaviour and liberality engage him to secresy. “As Julia is concealed close to the room her father is in, she hears him alone, lamenting her destiny. She speaks to him; he, in the greatest horror, imagines it her shade; and this odd conversation brings on the catastrophe.—She reproaches him with the cruelty that brought on her fate, and offers to appear before him in the shape she bore since their separation. He declines it with terror, and endeavours to excuse his severity by the worth of the Count. She confesses the merit of Paris; but owns she had been privately married two months before, to a husband, whom envy itself could not blame; that she knew the fierceness of his nature could not bear the confession, and therefore sacrificed her life to preserve her fidelity to him she had chose; that all she now begged, was his solemn promise he would never conspire the ruin of this unknown son-in-law, but cherish and esteem him, as if he had been his own choice; that this was all the atonement he could now make, and without which she should incessantly disturb him. “He promises it, and asks his name; when she tells him, 'tis Roselo, the head of the Monteses, and that heaven had raised him up to put an end to those discords which destroyed their country: he seems shocked at first, but soon melts into grief and tenderness, and attests heaven that he will always preserve the sentiments of a father for Roselo. “During this scene, Theobald, and the other Castelvins, having discovered Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, bring them all bound upon the stage, and deliberate upon the kind of death they shall make them suffer. “In this conjuncture, Antonio, out of regard to his promise, and compunction for his fault, discovers what has passed, and embraces Roselo. At first they imagine his brain disordered, but by degrees he soothes them into moderation; and Count Paris, who is present, out of generosity joins with him, and conduces to bring 'em to a reconciliation. “To render this sudden conversion more lasting, they determine to cement the peace by the marriage of Dorothea and Roselo. Julia, who hears all, suddenly appears. Their first terror at the sight, is turned into joy and surprise, when they find she is alive; and when they are informed that Roselo delivered her from the arms of death, they judge him to have a lawful claim to her. Their union is ratified; Anselm marries the daughter of Theobald; and Marin (the Gracioso) receives the hand of Celia, with a thousand ducats from Antonio and Roselo. “The End of the Play.”

Note return to page 871 King Lear, vol. x. p. 223: “But to the girdle do the gods inherit; “Beneath is all the friend's.” My friend Charles Warren, Esq. Chief Justice of Chester, pointed out to me the following curious illustration of this doctrine in Jortin's Remarks on Ecclesiastical History. “The Manichæans gave to each man two souls, the one a good, the other a bad one. Clemens Alexandrinus mentions an odd and ridiculous notion held by some Heretics, that God made man down to the navel, and that the rest of him was made by another power. &gres;&grn;&grt;&gre;&gric;&grq;&gre;&grn; &grasa;&grl;&grl;&gro;&gri; &grt;&gri;&grn;&greg;&grst; &grk;&gri;&grn;&grh;&grq;&grea;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grm;&gri;&grk;&grr;&gro;&grig; &grk;&gra;&grig; &gro;&grus;&grt;&gri;&grd;&gra;&grn;&gro;&grig; &grt;&grog;&grn; &grasa;&grn;&grq;&grr;&grw;&grp;&gro;&grn; &grur;&grp;&grog; &grd;&gri;&gra;&grf;&groa;&grr;&grw;&grn; &grd;&gru;&grn;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grw;&grn; &grp;&grl;&gra;&grs;&grq;&grhc;&grn;&gra;&gri; &grl;&grea;&grg;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gri;, &grk;&gra;&grig; &grt;&grag; &grm;&greg;&grn; &grm;&grea;&grx;&grr;&gri;&grst; &gros;&grm;&grf;&gra;&grl;&gro;&gruc; &grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grd;&gre;&grs;&grt;&grea;&grr;&gra;&grst; &grt;&grea;&grx;&grn;&grh;&grst; &gre;&grisc;&grn;&gra;&gri;&grcolon; &grt;&grag; &gresa;&grn;&gre;&grr;&grq;&gre; &grd;&greg;, &grt;&grh;&grst; &grhra;&grt;&grt;&gro;&grn;&gro;&grs;+ &gro;&grurc; &grd;&grhg; &grx;&graa;&grr;&gri;&grn;, &gros;&grr;&grea;&grg;&gre;&grs;&grq;&gra;&gri; &grs;&gru;&grn;&gro;&gru;&grs;&gria;&gra;&grst;. Hinc moti aliqui alii, pusilli et nullius pretii, dicunt formatum fuisse hominem a diversis potestatibus: et quæ sunt quidem usque ad umbilicum, esse artis divinioris; quæ autem subter, minoris: qua de caussa coitum quoque appetere. Strom. iii. p. 526. Theodoret says that the Eunomians, as well as the Marcionites, held that there were two Principles, and that the lower parts of the human body came from the Evil Principle. He probably misrepresents the Eunomians, for what hath Arianism to do with Manichæism? Eunomius was an Arian indeed, and the Father of an Arian sect; yet as far as we can judge from his writings, some of which are still extant and have escaped burning, he was no more a Manichæan than Epiphanius, or Athanasius, or Jerom, or Theodoret. “‘Theodoritus l. iv. Hæreticarum fabularum cap. 3. inter alia Eunomianis tribuit, quod et ipsi cum Marcione duo rerum principia, malum et bonum, statuerint, et inferiores partes a malo principio ortas, et hinc non totum baptizandum esse hominem docuerint. Cui congruit quod S. Ambrosius Eunomianos jungit Marcionistis, l. i. de officiis c. 2. ad quem locum conferendæ notæ Monachor. Benedictin. tom. ii. p. 31. Fabricius Bibl. Gr. viii. 251. “‘Eunomius ritus baptismi immutavit, qua de re accusatum fuisse fatetur Philostorgius. Testis potentissimus mutationis est Epiphanius: Qui jam baptizati sunt, iterum baptizat Eunomius, non modo qui a Catholicis, aut ab aliis hæresibus, sed eos etiam qui ab ipsismet Arianis deficiunt. Repetiti porro illius baptismatis ea formula est, ‘In nomine Dei increati, et in nomine Filii creati, et in nomine Spiritû sanctificantis, et a creato Filio procreati.’ Aliam tamen adhibuisse formulam in Theodorito legimus: Dicit non oportere ter immergere eum qui baptizatur, nec Trinitatem invocare, sed semel baptizare in mortem Christi. Risune an lacrimis prosequenda, quæ de Eunomiani baptismi ritibus a Veteribus sunt memoriæ mandata? Epiphanius: Sunt qui narrent, quotquot ab iis denuo baptizantur in caput demergi, pedibus in sublime porrectis, et sic jusjurandum adigi, nunquam se ab illius hæresi discessuros. Observat et Nicetas: Longissimâ fasciâ, eum in usum paratâ consecratâque, hominem a pectore, usque ad extremos pedum articulos involvebant, tum deinde superiores corporis partes aqua proluebant. Cujus ritus causa hæc fuit, quod inferioribus corporis partibus pollui aquam arbitrabantur. Tantum superstitio potuit suadere malorum! Baptizatos ad pectus usque aqua madefaciunt, inquit Theodoritus, reliquis autem partibus corporis, tanquam abominandis, aquam adhibere prohibent. Discipulis Eunomii Ecclesias visitare moris non erat. Omnes sectatores ejus Basilicas Apostolorum et Martyrum non ingrediuntur, ut scilicet mortuum adorent Eunomium, cujus libros majores authoritatis arbitrantur quam Evangelia. Hieronymus. Neque castiores doctrinâ mores fuere, si vera de Ætio prædicat Epiphanius: Cum quidam ob stuprum feminæ illatum accusarentur, et ab aliis damnarentur, nihil illum commotum: sed factum risu et ludibrio prosequentem dixisse, Nullius hoc esse momenti: corporis enim hanc esse necessitatem.’ S. Basnage Ann. ii. 861. “Observe that the testimonies of Epiphanius and of Theodoret, concerning the form of Eunomian baptism, contradict each other. We may suppose that the Eunomians used only one immersion, or rather superinfusion, and that they baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, as they were plainly directed to do by the Scriptures, to which they paid as much regard as the Consubstantialists. “When Epiphanius says of their baptism, sunt qui narrent, we may be sure that proofs ran very low with him. “The Eunomians seem to have been of opinion that it was not necessary for persons to be plunged all over in water, and that it was not decent for them to be stripped at the performance of this religious rite. They therefore only uncovered them to the breast, and then poured water upon their heads. This was enough to give their adversaries a pretext, though a poor one, to calumniate them, and to call them Manichæans, and to charge them with holding that the lower parts of the body were made by the Devil.”

Note return to page 872 Henry IV. Part I. p. 13: “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 873 Henry IV. P. I. p. 359: “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 874 Henry IV. P. II. vol. xvii. p. 220: “Do me right, “And dub me knight “Samingo.” Why St. Domingo should have been considered as the patron of topers I know not; but he seems to have been regarded in this light by Gonzalo Berceo, an old Castilian poet, who flourished in 1211. He was a monk, much of the same cast with our facetious Arch-deacon Walter de Mapes. In writing the life of the saint, he seeks inspiration in a glass of good wine. “&lblank; De un confessor sancto quiero fer una prosa “Quiero fer una prosa en Roman Paladino, “En qual suele el pueblo fablar a su vecino, “Ca no son tan lettrado por fer otro Latino, “Bien valdra, come creo, un vaso de buen vino.” Boswell.

Note return to page 875 Henry IV. Part II. vol. xvii. p. 25: The following communication was transmitted to me by Messrs Longman and Co. I have not the honour of knowing the gentleman who wrote it, but beg leave to return him my thanks for his courtesy. Boswell. Tewkesbury, April 5th, 1821. Sir, Observing an inaccuracy in the notes to the last edition of Shakspeare, in 21 vols. I thought it might be acceptable to you to be enabled to set the matter right in the new edition. Mr. Steevens is in error, where he says that Dumbleton, Act I. Scene II. of the second part of King Henry the Fourth, is the name of a town in Glocestershire. A small village, about seven miles from Tewkesbury, bears that name; but it is, I think, very improbable that Shakspeare could have alluded to this place as furnishing a title for Falstaff's tailor. At the period when this play was written, the manor of Dumbleton was held by the Abbey of Abingdon, having been given to it by King Athelstan in 931, and was vested in that house at the dissolution, when King Henry the Eighth sold it to Thomas Lord Audley and Sir Thomas Pope; it afterwards came into the family of the Cockses of Cleeve, Glocestershire, (descended from the Cockses, of Cocks-Hall, Kent,) from whom the Right Honourable Lord Somers, the present proprietor, inherits it. If any part of the above information is of the least use to you, it is much at your service; if not, I hope you will excuse the trouble I give you, in forwarding this to you through the hands of my booksellers, Messrs Longman, Hurst, and Co. I am, Sir, Your most obedient Servant, James Bennett. To the Editor of Shakspeare's Plays, &c.

Note return to page 876 Henry V. vol. xvii. p. 407: “That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, “And dout them with superfluous courage.” I have already in the notes on a contested passage in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 229, questioned whether dout for do out was ever employed in any serious composition in our author's time. Mr. Tyrwhitt observes on the passage before us, that doubt, the reading of the folio, in both instances, may here have been used for to make to doubt, to terrify; I am satisfied that such was its meaning. Doubter, in Cotgrave's French Dictionary, is explained “to fear, awe, dread, redoubt;” from which last word redoubtable is derived, and that it had a similar acceptation in old English seems to be ascertained by a line in the old bl. l. romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, quoted by Mr. Steevens in vol. v. p. 281, n. 2: “Let some priest a gospel saye, “For doute of fendes in the flode.”

Note return to page 877 *In the notes to be found at the page referred to, it is said by Mr. Steevens that the word astre is no where to be found but in Southern's Diana. It has this moment met my eye, with a slight variation in the spelling, in a Scotch poet, Montgomery, the author of the Cherrie and the Slae: “The asters clear, and torches of the night.” Montgomery's Poems, edit. 1821, p. 164. Boswell.

Note return to page 878 *I have omitted to point out this explanation in the latter instance.

Note return to page 879 *In Antony and Cleopatra, xii. 368, Antony says: “Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish, “A vapour, sometime like a bear, or lion, &c. “They are black vesper's pageants.” No description of such pageants has been given in the notes; but while I was preparing this index, I found the following illustration in a sermon by Bishop Hall, 1618: “I feare some “of you are like the pageants of your great solemnities, wherein “there is the show of a solid body, whether of a lion, or elephant, “or unicorne; but if they be curiously look'd into, there is nothing “but cloth, and sticks, and ayre.”

Note return to page 880 *This mistake originated with Mr. Steevens himself, in whose note it is found.

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