Note return to page 1 *See particularly his “Supplie” [or Supplement] to Godwin's Account of the English Bishops; which abounds in almost every page with such conceits as we are now speaking of. The titles of some of our poet's comedies, which appear to have been written by the booksellers for whom they were printed, may also be cited for the same purpose; thus we have “A pleasant conceited comedy called Love's Labour's Lost,” &c. 1598; that is, a comedy full of pleasant conceits. The bookseller doubtless well knew the publick taste, and added this title as more likely to attract purchasers than any other he could devise. See also “A most pleasant and excellent conceited comedy of Syr John Falstaffe,” &c. 1602, i. e. a comedy full of excellent conceits.

Note return to page 2 *See this topick further discussed, in the preliminary observations to the Comedy of Errors.

Note return to page 3 1Proteus,] The old copy has—Protheus; but this is merely the antiquated mode of spelling Proteus. See the Princely Pleasures at Kenelworth Castle, by G. Gascoigne, 1587, where “Protheus appeared, sitting on a dolphyns back.” Again, in one of Barclay's Eclogues: “Like as Protheus oft chaungeth his stature.” Shakspeare's character was so called, from his disposition to change. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 2Panthino.] In the enumeration of characters in the old copy, this attendant on Antonio is called Panthion, but in the play, always Panthino. Steevens.

Note return to page 5 3Proteus.] Mr. Steevens has justly observed that Protheus, which is found in the old copy throughout this play, is merely the old spelling of Proteus, a circumstance which escaped him and all other editors till the year 1793. Thus in “the True Tragedie of Richard, Duke of Yorke,” 1595, on which Shakspeare formed the Third Part of King Henry VI.: “And for a need change shapes with Protheus.” Again in Greene's Philomela: “Nature foreseeing how men would devise “More wiles than Protheus, women to entise.” Our ancestors seem to have been fond of introducing the letter h into proper names to which it does not belong; and hence, even to this day, our common christian name Antony is written improperly Anthony. Even scholars shewed the same disregard to propriety in this respect as the unlearned. Thus Sir John Davys, in his fine Eulogy on the English law, prefixed to his Reports, folio 1615:—“a greater combustion than that which happened when the chariot of the Sun did want a guide but half a day, as is lively expressed in the fable of Phaethon.” So also Sackville in the Mirrour for Magistrates: “And Phaethon now near reaching to his race.” Tubervile in his Tragical Tales, 1567, has Thunis for Tunis. Lydgate, in like manner, has Thelephus and Anthenor; and in an old translation of the Gesta Romanorum, printed about 1580, we find in p. 1, Athalanta for Atalanta. Malone.

Note return to page 6 4Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:] Milton has the same play on words, in his Masque at Ludlow Castle: “It is for homely features to keep home, “They had their name thence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 7 5&lblank; shapeless idleness.] The expression is fine, as implying that idleness prevents the giving any form or character to the manners. Warburton.

Note return to page 8 6&lblank; some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.] The poem of Musæus, entitled Hero and Leander, is meant. Marlowe's translation, or rather imitation, of this piece was entered on the Stationers' books, Sept. 18, 1593; but it did not appear till 1598, when the first two Sestiads, which were all that Marlowe had finished, were published by Edward Blount, for whom, in conjunction with Isaac Jaggard, our author's plays were afterwards printed. The remainder of this poem was added by Chapman, in 1600. Marlowe's production was extremely popular, and deservedly so, many of his lines being as smooth as those of Dryden. Our author has quoted one of them in As You Like It. He had probably read this poem in manuscript recently before he wrote the present play; for he again alludes to it in the third act: “Why then a ladder, quaintly made of cords, “Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, “So bold Leander would adventure it.” Malone.

Note return to page 9 7&lblank; nay, give me not the boots.] A proverbial expression, though now disused, signifying, don't make a laughing stock of me; don't play upon me. The French have a phrase, Bailler foin en corne; which Cotgrave thus interprets, To give one the boots; to sell him a bargain. Theobald. Perhaps this expression took its origin from a sport the country-people in Warwickshire use at their harvest-home, where one sits as judge to try misdemeanors committed in harvest, and the punishment for the men is to be laid on a bench, and slapped on the breech with a pair of boots. This they call giving them the boots. I met with the same expression in the old comedy called Mother Bombie, by Lyly: “What do you give mee the boots?” Again, in The Weakest goes to the Wall, a comedy, 1618: “&lblank; Nor your fat bacon can carry it away, if you offer us the boots.” The boots, however, were an ancient engine of torture. In MS. Harl. 6999–48, Mr. T. Randolph writes to Lord Hunsdon, &c. and mentions in the P. S. to his letter, that George Flecke had yesterday night the boots, and is said to have confessed that the E. of Morton was privy to the poisoning the E. of Athol, 16 March, 1580: and in another letter, March 18, 1580: “&lblank; that the Laird of Whittingham had the boots, but without torment confess'd,” &c. Steevens. The boot was an instrument of torture used only in Scotland. Bishop Burnet in The History of his own Times, Vol. I. 332, edit. 1754, mentions one Maccael, a preacher, who, being suspected of treasonable practices, underwent the punishment so late as 1666: “&lblank; He was put to the torture, which, in Scotland, they call the boots; for they put a pair of iron boots close on the leg, and drive wedges between these and the leg. The common torture was only to drive these in the calf of the leg: but I have been told they were sometimes driven upon the shin bone.” Reed.

Note return to page 10 8However, but a folly, &c.] This love will end in a foolish action, to produce which you are long to spend your wit, or it will end in the loss of your wit, which will be overpowered by the folly of love. Johnson.

Note return to page 11 9So by your circumstance.] Circumstance is used equivocally. It here means, conduct; in the preceding line, circumstantial deduction. Malone.

Note return to page 12 1&lblank; As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells,] So, in our author's 70th Sonnet: “For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love.” Malone.

Note return to page 13 2To Milan, let me hear from thee by letters.] Thus the only authentick edition, for which the modern editors following the second folio of 1632, have substituted—At Milan, &c. But there is no occasion for departing from the original copy. The construction is—Let me hear from thee by letters to Milan, i. e. directed or addressed to Milan. In Act. IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; you use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porcupine.” i. e. to meet me at the Porcupine.

Note return to page 14 3I leave myself, my friends, and all for love.] The old copy has—I love myself. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. In Antony and Cleopatra, Act. V. Sc. I., we have in the old copy—For Cæsar cannot leave to be ungentle—for live to be ungentle. Malone.

Note return to page 15 4Made wit with musing weak,] The construction is—Thou hast made me neglect—thou hast made wit with musing weak. Malone.

Note return to page 16 5This whole scene, like many others in these plays (some of which, I believe, were written by Shakspeare, and others interpolated by the players,) is composed of the lowest and most trifling conceits, to be accounted for only from the gross taste of the age he lived in; Populo ut placerent. I wish I had authority to leave them out; but I have done all I could, set a mark of reprobation upon them throughout this edition. Pope. That this, like many other scenes, is mean and vulgar, will be universally allowed; but that it was interpolated by the players, seems advanced without any proof, only to give a greater licence to criticism. Johnson. Mr. Pope, when he published his edition of these plays, was, I believe, very little acquainted with the ancient dramatick writers that immediately preceded Shakspeare. In his earliest plays something of their manner may be traced. The notion that this and other scenes were interpolated, is so wild and capricious, as not to deserve a moment's consideration. Malone.

Note return to page 17 6And I have play'd the sheep &lblank;] The jest, such as it is, may escape the reader, unless he recollect that in Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Hertfordshire, and probably in some other counties, a sheep is pronounced a ship. The two words seem, in consequence of this communication, to have been used indiscriminately, and confounded. Thus in Playford's “Dancing-Master,” 10th edition, 1698, in the table we have as the name of a dance, “Three sheep skins,” p. 215; and in the page referred to we find “Three ship skins.” Malone.

Note return to page 18 *First folio, And.

Note return to page 19 7And I a sheep.] The article which is wanting in the only authentick copy, 1623, was added in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 20 8I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton;] Speed calls himself a lost mutton, because he had lost his master, and because Proteus had been proving him a sheep. But why does he call the lady a laced mutton? Wenchers are to this day called mutton-mongers; and consequently the object of their passion must, by the metaphor, be the mutton. And Cotgrave, in his English French Dictionary, explains laced mutton, Une garse, putain, fille de joye. And Mr. Motteux has rendered this passage of Rabelais, in the prologue of his fourth book, Cailles coiphees mignonnement chantans, in this manner; Coated quails and laced mutton waggishly singing. So that laced mutton has been a sort of standard phrase for girls of pleasure. Theobald. Nash, in his “Have with you to Saffron Walden,” 1595, speaking of Gabriel Harvey's incontinence, says, “he would not stick to extoll rotten lac'd mutton.” So, in the comedy of The Shoemaker's Holiday, or the Gentle Craft, 1610: “Why here's good lac'd mutton, as I promis'd you.” Again, in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “And I smelt he lov'd lac'd mutton well.” Again, Heywood, in his Love's Mistress, 1636, speaking of Cupid, says, he is the “Hero of hie-hoes, admiral of ay-mes, and monsieur of mutton lac'd.” Steevens. A laced mutton was in our author's time so established a term for a courtezan, that a street in Clerkenwell, which was much frequented by women of the town, was then called Mutton-lane. It seems to have been a phrase of the same kind as the French expression—caille coifee, and might be rendered in that language, mouton en corset. This appellation appears to have been as old as the time of king Henry III. “Item sequitur gravis pœna corporalis, sed sine amissione vitæ vel membrorum, si raptus fit de concubinâ legitimâ, vel aliâ quæstum faciente, sine delectu personarum: has quidem oves debet rex tueri pro pace suâ.” Bracton de Legibus, lib. ii. Malone.

Note return to page 21 9Nay, in that you are astray, &c.] For the reason Proteus gives, Dr. Thirlby advises that we should read—a stray, i. e. a stray sheep, which continues Proteus's banter upon Speed. Theobald.

Note return to page 22 1&lblank; did she nod?] These words have been supplied by some of the editors, to introduce what follows. Steevens. They were supplied by Mr. Theobald. In Speed's answer the old spelling of the affirmative particle has been retained; otherwise the conceit of Proteus (such as it is) would be unintelligible. Malone.

Note return to page 23 2&lblank; that's noddy.] Noddy was a game at cards. This play upon syllables is hardly worth explaining. The speakers intend to fix the name of noddy, that is, fool, on each other. So in the second part of Pasquil's Mad Cappe, Sig. E.: “If such a noddy be not thought a fool.” Again in Wit's Private Wealth, 1612, if you see a trull scarce, give her a nod, but follow her not, lest you prove a noddy. Reed. There can be no doubt concerning the meaning of noddy, as used in the text; the game at cards throws no light whatsoever on the present passage. Malone.

Note return to page 24 3&lblank; in telling your mind.] The editor of the second folio, not understanding this, altered your to her, which has been followed in all the subsequent editions. The old copy is certainly right. The meaning is,—She being so hard to me who was the bearer of your mind, I fear she will prove no less so to you in the act of telling your mind, i. e. when you address her in person. The opposition is between brought and telling. Though Mr. Steevens had before him this easy and clear explanation of the words found in the only authentick copy of this play, he adhered to the sophisticated reading of the second folio, the words which are above explained being “to him unintelligible.” Malone.

Note return to page 25 4&lblank; you have testern'd me;] You have gratified me with a tester, testern, or testen, that is, with a sixpence. Johnson. The old reading is—cestern'd. Steevens. This typographical error was corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. Mr. H. White, in Mr. Steevens's edition of 1803, quotes a passage from one of Latimer's sermons [preached at Stamford in 1750] to show that a tester was in Latimer's time of the value of tenpence: the truth is, that it had a different value at different times. See Fleetwood's Chronicon Pretiosum, p. 32. “Testens, or as we now commonly call them, testers, from a head that was upon them, were coined (as is before said) 36 Hen. VIII. [1542]. Sir H. Spelman says they were French coin of the value of 18d.; and he does not know but they might have gone for as much in England: he says it was brass, and covered over with silver; and in Henry the Eighth's days, for 12d.; but 1 Edw. VI. [1547], it was brought down to 9d. and then to 6d. (which still retains the name).” Malone.

Note return to page 26 5Which cannot perish, &c.] The same proverb has been already alluded to in the first and last scenes of The Tempest. Reed.

Note return to page 27 6&lblank; he Sir Eglamour never should be mine.] Perhaps Sir Eglamour was once the common cant term for an insignificant inamorato. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “Adieu, Sir Eglamour; adieu lute-string, curtain-rod, goose-quill,” &c. Sir Eglamour of Artoys indeed is the hero of an ancient metrical romance, “Imprinted at London, in Foster-lane, at the sygne of the Harteshorne, by John Walley,” bl. l. no date. Steevens.

Note return to page 28 7Should censure thus &lblank;] To censure, in our author's time, generally signified to give one's judgment or opinion. So, in The Winter's Tale, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; How blest am I “In my just censure? in my true opinion?” See the note there. Malone.

Note return to page 29 8Fire that's closest kept, burns most of all.] The second and third words in this line are thus abbreviated in the only authentick copy of this play; and hence it appears that fire is here, as in many other places in these plays, used as a dissyllable. So, in the “Letting of Humour's Blood,” 8vo. 1600: “O rare compòund, a dying horse to choke, “Of English fyer and of Indie smoke.” If it should be urged, that “Fire that is closest” is a smoother line, I answer that we are not to re-write our author's plays. Malone.

Note return to page 30 9&lblank; a goodly broker!] A broker was used for matchmaker, sometimes for a procuress. Johnson. So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1599: “And flie (o flie) these bed-brokers unclean, “The monsters of our sex,” &c. Steevens. Again, more appositely, in “Look to 't, for I'le stab ye,” a collection of satirical verses by S. R. i. e. Samuel Rowlands, 8vo. 1604: “You scurvie fellow in the broker's suite “A sattin doublet fac'd with greace and ale, “That of the art of bawdry can'st dispute, &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “Thou that within thy table hast set down “The names of all the squirrils in the towne,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 31 *First folio, ye.

Note return to page 32 1&lblank; say No, to that, &c.] A paraphrase on the old proverb, “Maids say nay, and take it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 33 2How angerly &lblank;] Thus the old copy; and such was the usage of that time; not angrily, as several of the modern editions have exhibited the word. So, in Macbeth: “Why how now, Hecate? thou look'st angerly.” Malone.

Note return to page 34 *First folio, Is't.

Note return to page 35 3&lblank; stomach &lblank;] Was used for passion or obstinacy. Johnson.

Note return to page 36 4As little by such toys &lblank;] Set is here used equivocally, in the preceding speech, in the sense in which it is used by musicians; and in the present line with the addition of the preposition by, in a quite different sense. To set by in old language signifies to make account of. So, in the First Book of Samuel, xviii. 30: “David behaved himself more wisely than all, so that he was much set by.” Malone.

Note return to page 37 5&lblank; Light o' love.] This tune is given in a note on Much Ado About Nothing, Act III. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 38 6And mar the concord with too harsh a descant:] Descant signified formerly what we now denominate variations. So in some ancient poem of which I have neglected to preserve the title: “O what a world of descant makes my soul “Upon the voluntary ground of love!” Malone.

Note return to page 39 7There wanteth but a mean &lblank;] The mean is the tenor in musick. So, in the Interlude of Marie Magdalen's Repentance, 1569: “Utilitie can sing the base full cleane, “And noble honour shall sing the meane.” Steevens.

Note return to page 40 8&lblank; with your unruly base.] The only authentick copy of 1623 has, by a mistake of the press, of you unruly base. This typographical errour was corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 41 9Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.] The speaker here turns the allusion (which her mistress employed) from the base in musick to a country exercise, bid the base: in which some pursue, and others are made prisoners. So that Lucetta would intend, by this, to say, Indeed I take pains to make you a captive to Proteus's passion. Warburton. Dr. Warburton is not quite accurate. The game was not called bid the base, but the base. To bid the base means here, I believe, “to challenge to an encounter.” So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “To bid the wind a base he now prepares, “And wh'er he run, or fly, they knew not whether.” Again, in Hall's Chronicle, fol. 98. b: “The Queen marched from York to Wakefield, and bade base to the Duke even before his castle.” Again, in a letter from Lord Henry Howard to James King of Scotland, Cecil's Correspondence, p. 41, 8vo. 1766:—“It were a vain part for him to contend alone, or to bid base foolishly.” Mr. Todd, in a note on Spencer's Pastoral for September, p. 162, contends that Dr. Warburton is right, and that the game was called “to bid the base;” which he infers from the following lines of that poet: “Whylome thou wont the shepheard's handes to lead “In rimes, in riddles, and in bidding base.” But, not to insist that the quotation by no means proves what it is supposed to prove, the following instances will decisively shew that the game was called the base, or prison base, or prison bars. The first is found in Cymbeline: “&lblank; lads more like to run “The country base, than to commit such slaughter.” Again, in Annalia Dubrensia, 4to. 1636, Signat. C. 4: “Yet was no better than our prison base.” Again, in The Silke Wormes and their Flies, 4to. 1599: “All flies were made ere wormes beganne to peepe, “Both they which all day long at base do play.” Again, in the Letting of Humours in the Head-vaine, 8vo. 1600: “To drinke half pots, or deale at the whole canne;— “To play at base or pen and ynkehorne Sir Jhan.” To the same purpose the celebrated Doctor Caius, or Key, in his Treatise “On the Sweat,” printed by Berthollet, 1552, affords another example: “Tossing the windee balle, skirmish at base, an exercise for a gentleman, much used among the Italians.” On the passage in Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. II. (above quoted), Mr. Steevens has produced four other instances of the same phraseology: there can therefore, I conceive, be no doubt entertained that the game was called the base, or prison base, or prison bars, and not “bidding the base” or “to bid the base.” In further confirmation of what has been here stated, I may add that Coles in his Dictionary, 1679, has prison base, “a play, diffugium;” and “to bid battle” he renders by “hostem provocare.” In Ireland this game is called prison bars. I have often played at it, when a school-boy. Malone. Mr. Malone's explanation of the verb—bid, is unquestionably just. So, in one of the parts of K. Henry VI.: “Of force enough to bid his brother battle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 42 1&lblank; my bosom, as a bed, shall lodge thee,] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast.” Malone.

Note return to page 43 2&lblank; written down:] To “write down,” is still a provincial expression for—to write. Henley.

Note return to page 44 3Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold.] i. e. lest they should catch cold. So, in an ancient “Dialogue both pleasaunte and profitable,” by Willyam Bulleyn, 1564: “My horse starteth, and had like to have unsaddled me; let me sit faster, for falling.” Again, in Plutarch's Life of Antony, translated by Sir Thomas North: “So he was let in, and brought to her muffled as he was, for being known,” i. e. for fear of being known. Again, in Peele's K. Edward I. 1503: “Hold up your torches for dripping.” Again, in Love's Pilgrimage: “Stir my horse, for catching cold.” Again, in Barnabie Riche's “Soldiers Wishe to Britons Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill,” 1604, p. 64: “Such other ill-disposed persons, being once press'd, must be kept with continual guard, &c. for running away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 45 4I see you have a month's mind to them.] A month's mind was an anniversary in times of popery; or, as Mr. Ray calls it, a less solemnity directed by the will of the deceased. There was also a year's mind, and a week's mind. See Proverbial Phrases. This appears from the interrogatories and observations against the clergy, in the year 1552, Inter. 7: “Whether there are any month's minds and anniversaries?” Strype's Memorials of the Reformation, vol. vii. p. 354. “Was the month's mind of Sir William Laxton, who died the last month, (July 1556,) his hearse burning with wax, and the morrow mass celebrated, and a sermon preached,” &c. Strype's Mem. vol. iii. p. 305. Grey. A month's mind, in the ritual sense, signifies not desire or inclination, but remembrance; yet I suppose this is the true original of the expression. Johnson. In Hampshire, and other western counties, for “I can't remember it,” they say, “I can't mind it.” Blackstone. Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589, chap. 24, speaking of Poetical Lamentations, says, they were chiefly used “at the burials of the dead, also at month's minds, and longer times:” and in the churchwarden's accompts of St. Helen's in Abingdon, Berkshire, 1558, these month's minds, and the expences attending them, are frequently mentioned. Instead of month's minds, they are sometimes called month's monuments, and in the Injunctions of K. Edward VI. memories, Injunct. 21. By memories, says Fuller, we understand the Obsequia for the dead, which some say succeeded in the place of the heathen Parentalia. If this line was designed for a verse, we should read—monthes mind. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Swifter than the moones sphere.” Both these are the Saxon genitive case. Steevens. The old copy reads—“month's, not monthes,” which shew what was intended. Why should we suppose that the line was meant for a verse? Our author throughout these plays frequently intermixes prose with his verse; though Mr. Steevens has laboured, by the aid of interpolation and omission, to efface all vestiges of this practice. Malone.

Note return to page 46 5&lblank; what sad talk &lblank;] Sad is the same as grave or serious. Johnson. So, in The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: “Marry, sir knight, I saw them in sad talk, “But to say they were directly whispering,” &c. Again, in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “The king feigneth to talk sadly with some of his counsel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 47 6&lblank; of slender reputation,] i. e. who are thought slightly of, are of little consequence. Steevens.

Note return to page 48 7Some, to discover islands far away;] In Shakspeare's time, voyages for the discovery of the islands of America were much in vogue. And we find, in the journals of the travellers of that time, that the sons of noblemen, and of others of the best families in England, went very frequently on these adventures. Such as the Fortescues, Collitons, Thornhills, Farmers, Pickerings, Littletons, Willoughbys, Chesters, Hawleys, Bromleys, and others. To this prevailing fashion our poet frequently alludes, and not without high commendations of it. Warburton.

Note return to page 49 8&lblank; great impeachment to his age,] Impeachment in this passage means reproach or imputation. So Demetrius says to Helena in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “You do impeach your modesty too much, “To leave the city, and commit yourself, “Into the hands of one that loves you not.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 50 9Attends the emperor in his royal court.] Shakspeare has been guilty of no mistake in placing the emperor's court at Milan in this play. Several of the first German emperors held their courts there occasionally, it being, at that time, their immediate property, and the chief town of their Italian dominions. Some of them were crowned kings of Italy at Milan, before they received the imperial crown at Rome. Nor has the poet fallen into any contradiction, by giving a duke to Milan at the same time that the emperor held his court there. The first dukes of that, and all the other great cities in Italy, were not sovereign princes, as they afterwards became; but were merely governors, or viceroys, under the emperors, and removeable at their pleasure. Such was the Duke of Milan mentioned in this play. Mr. Monck Mason adds, that “during the wars in Italy between Francis I. and Charles V. the latter frequently resided at Milan.” Steevens.

Note return to page 51 1&lblank; in good time,] In good time was the old expression when something happened which suited the thing in hand, as the French say, à propos. Johnson. So, in King Richard III.: “And in good time here comes the sweating lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 52 2&lblank; now will we break with him.] That is, break the matter to him. The same phrase occurs in Much Ado About Nothing, Act I. Sc. I. M. Mason.

Note return to page 53 3&lblank; exhibition &lblank;] i. e. allowance. So, in Othello: “Due reference of place and exhibition.” Again, in The Devil's Law Case, 1623: “&lblank; in his riot does far exceed the exhibition I allowed him.” Steevens. The term is still in use at Oxford. Boswell.

Note return to page 54 4O, how this spring of love resembleth.] It was not always the custom among our early writers to make the first and third lines rhime to each other; and when a word was not long enough to complete the measure, they occasionally extended it. Thus Spenser, in his Faery Queen, B. II. c. 12: “Formerly grounded, and fast setteled.” Again, B. II. c. 12: “The while sweet Zephirus loud whisteled, &c.” From this practice, I suppose our author wrote resembeleth, which, though it affords no jingle, completes the verse. Many poems have been written in this measure, where the second and fourth lines only rhime. Steevens. Resembleth is here used as a quadrisyllable, as if it was written resembeleth. See Com. of Errors, Act V. Sc. the last: “And these two Dromios, one in semblance.” So, in As You Like It, Act II. Sc. II.: “The parts and graces of the wrestler.” And it should be observed, that Shakspeare takes the same liberty with many other words, in which l, or r, is subjoined to another consonant. See Com. of Errors, next verse but one to that cited above: “These are the parents to these children.” Where some editors, being unnecessarily alarmed for the metre, have endeavoured to help it by a word of their own: “These plainly are the parents to these children.” Tyrwhitt. See the notes at the end of this play.10Q0001 Boswell.

Note return to page 55 5Val. Not mine, my gloves are on. Speed. Why then, this may be yours; for this is but one.] It should seem from this passage, that the word one was anciently pronounced as if it were written on. The quibble here is lost by the change of pronunciation; a loss, however, which may be very patiently endured. In Shakspeare's time, probably in consequence of this similar pronunciation, the two words are frequently confounded. In some manuscript letters of Lord Burghley's, about the year 1585, he very generally writes on for one. See a note in King John, Act III. Sc. III. on the words— “Sound one into the drowsy car of night,” where various instances of the two words one and on being confounded are accumulated. Malone.

Note return to page 56 6&lblank; takes diet;] To take diet was the phrase for being under a regimen for a disease mentioned in Timon: “&lblank; bring down the rose cheek'd youth “To the tub-fast and the diet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 57 7&lblank; Hallowmas.] That is, about the feast of All-Saints, when winter begins, and the life of a vagrant becomes less comfortable. Johnson. It is worth remarking, that on All-Saints-Day the poor people in Staffordshire, and perhaps in other country places, go from parish to parish a souling as they call it; i. e. begging and puling (or singing small, as Bailey's Dict. explains puling) for soul-cakes, or any good thing to make them merry? This custom is mentioned by Peck, and seems a remnant of Popish superstition to pray for departed souls, particularly those of friends. The souler's song, in Staffordshire, is different from that which Mr. Peck mentions, and is by no means worthy publication. Tollet.

Note return to page 58 8&lblank; like one of the lions;] If Shakspeare had not been thinking of the lions in the Tower, he would have written “like a lion.” Ritson.

Note return to page 59 9&lblank; none else would:] None else would be so simple. Johnson.

Note return to page 60 1&lblank; for going ungartered!] This is enumerated by Rosalind in As You Like It, Act. III. Sc. II. as one of the undoubted marks of love: “Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 61 2I would you were set;] Set for seated, in opposition to stand in the preceding line. M. Mason. I believe the opposition above-mentioned was intended; but the meaning was surely of a very different nature from any thing connected with being seated. How being seated would diminish Valentine's affection, Mr. Mason has not told us. The poet more probably used set metaphorically, with a view to the sense in which it is employed when applied to the sun, when it falls below the horison in the west. Malone.

Note return to page 62 3O excellent motion! &c.] Motion, in Shakspeare's time, signified puppet. In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair it is frequently used in that sense, or rather perhaps to signify a puppet-show; the master whereof may properly be said to be an interpreter, as being the explainer of the inarticulate language of the actors. The speech of the servant is an allusion to that practice, and he means to say, that Silvia is a puppet, and that Valentine is to interpret to or rather for her. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in The City Match, 1639, by Jasper Maine: “&lblank; his mother came, “Who follows strange sights out of town, and went “To Brentford for a motion.”— Again, in The Pilgrim: “&lblank; Nothing but a motion? “A puppet pilgrim?”— Steevens. A motion certainly signified a puppet-show, not a puppet. See the extracts from Sir Henry Herbert's Office Book, vol. iii. Speed means to say, what a fine puppet-show shall we have now? Here is the principal puppet to whom my master will be the interpreter. The master of the puppet-show, or the person appointed by him to speak for his mock actors, was in Shakspeare's time frequently denominated the interpreter to the puppets. Malone.

Note return to page 63 4Sir Valentine and servant,] Here Silvia calls her lover servant, and again below, her gentle servant. This was the language of ladies to their lovers at the time when Shakspeare wrote. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in Marston's What You Will, 1607: “Sweet sister, let's sit in judgement a little; faith upon my servant Monsieur Laverdure. “Mel. Troth, well for a servant; but for a husband!” Again, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “Every man was not born with my servant Brisk's features.” Steevens.

Note return to page 64 5&lblank; 'tis very clerkly done.] i. e. like a scholar. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Thou art clerkly, sir John, clerkly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 65 6&lblank; it came hardly off;] A similar phrase occurs in Timon of Athens, Act I. Sc. I.: “This comes off well and excellent.” Steevens.

Note return to page 66 7&lblank; reasoning with yourself?] That is, discoursing, talking. An Italianism. Johnson. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday.” Steevens.

Note return to page 67 8&lblank; and there an end.] i. e. there's the conclusion of the matter. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the times have been, “That when the brains were out the man would die, “And there an end.” Steevens.

Note return to page 68 9All this I speak in print;] In print means with exactness. So, in the comedy of All Fooles, 1605: “&lblank; not a hair “About his bulk, but it stands in print.” Again, in The Portraiture of Hypocrisie, bl. l. 1589: “&lblank; others lash out to maintaine their porte, which must needes bee in print.” Again, in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 539: “&lblank; he must speake in print, walke in print, eat and drinke in print, and that which is all in all, he must be mad in print.” Steevens.

Note return to page 69 1&lblank; be moved, be moved.] Have compassion on me, though your mistress has none on you. Malone.

Note return to page 70 2&lblank; this left shoe &lblank;] Shoes in Shakspeare's time appear to have been adapted to the right and left foot, a fashion revived in our time. So, in K. John, Act IV. Sc. II.: “Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste “Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet.” Malone.

Note return to page 71 3&lblank; I am the dog, &c.] This passage is much confused, and of confusion the present reading makes no end. Sir T. Hanmer reads, I am the dog, no, the dog is himself, and I am me, the dog is the dog, and I am myself. This certainly is more reasonable, but I know not how much reason the author intended to bestow on Launce's soliloquy. Johnson. A similar thought occurs in a play printed earlier than the present. See A Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “&lblank; you shall stand for the lady, you for her dog, and I the page; you and the dog looking one upon another: the page presents himself.” Steevens. The accidental circumstance, that The Christian turn'd Turk was printed before The Gentlemen of Verona, as Mr. Steevens well knew, gave that play no priority to our poet's, with respect to composition. The Gentlemen of Verona, we know, was written many years before 1612; and therefore it is not reasonable to have supposed that Shakspeare is here indebted to any other dramatist. See the Essay on the chronological order of his plays. Malone.

Note return to page 72 4&lblank; like a wood woman;] The first folios agree in would woman; for which, because it was a mystery to Mr. Pope, he has unmeaningly substituted ould woman. But it must be writ, or at least understood, wood woman, i. e. crazy, frantic with grief; or distracted, from any other cause. The word is very frequently used in Chaucer; and sometimes writ wood, sometimes wode. Theobald. Print thus: “Now come I to my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) like a wood woman.” Perhaps the humour would be heightened by reading—(O, that the shoe could speak now!) Blackstone. I have followed the punctuation recommended by Sir W. Blackstone. The emendation proposed by him was made, I find, by Sir T. Hanmer. Wood, for wild, or mad, frequently occurs in our old English writers. So, in Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, 1600, vol. ii. p. 72: “If the seed of that melon which runneth up in one stalke be reduced into powder and strewed, . . . . she will be so wood after the companie of a man.” Malone. Launce is describing the melancholy parting between him and his family. In order to do this more methodically, he makes one of his shoes stand for his father, and the other for his mother. And when he has done taking leave of his father, he says, Now come I to my mother, turning to the shoe that is supposed to personate her. And in order to render the representation more perfect, he expresses his wish that it could speak like a woman frantic with grief! There could be no doubt about the sense of the passage, had he said—“O that it could speak like a wood woman!” But he uses the feminine pronoun in speaking of the shoe, because it is supposed to represent a woman. M. Mason.

Note return to page 73 5&lblank; if the ty'd were lost;] This quibble, wretched as it is, might have been borrowed by Shakspeare from Lylly's Endymion, 1591: “Epi. You know it is said, the tide tarrieth for no man.—Sam. True.—Epi. A monstrous lye: for I was ty'd two hours, and tarried for one to unlose me.” The same play on words occurs in Chapman's Andromeda Liberata, 1614: “And now came roaring to the tied the tide.” Steevens. This joke may boast of more antiquity than has yet been assigned to it. It is in Heywood's Epigrams: “The tyde taryeth no man, but here to scan “Thou art tyde so that thou taryest every man.” Boswell.

Note return to page 74 6And the tide.] I have here followed a punctuation recommended by Mr. Steevens; but have not followed him in arbitrarily omitting the word—and. He omitted it, I suppose, because the tide is first mentioned, and he therefore considered the copulative unnecessary. But Shakspeare, when he repeats words already spoken, often departs from his original formula. Thus Panthino says—“thou'lt lose the flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage,” &c. But Launce, quoting his words, says— “lose the tide.” There is therefore clearly no need of change; and of all changes omission is the most dangerous. Not adverting to this usage, Mr. Pope, to make the two speeches conformable to each other, makes Launce say—“Lose the flood and the voyage,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 75 7&lblank; how quote you my folly?] To quote is to observe. So, in Hamlet: “I am sorry that with better head and judgment, “I had not quoted him.” Steevens. Valentine in his answer plays upon the word, which was pronounced as if written coat. So, in the Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “&lblank; the illiterate, that know not how “To cipher what is writ in learned books, “Will cote my loathsome trespass in my looks.” In our poet's time words were thus frequently spelt by the ear. Malone.

Note return to page 76 8Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?] “The characters being Italians, not Spaniards,” Mr. Ritson proposes to omit Don, though we have had (as he acknowledges) Don Alphonso in a preceding scene; which shews decisively how very improper such an omission would be. For this incongruity the youthful poet must answer. Malone.

Note return to page 77 9And not without desert, &c.] And not dignified with so much reputation without proportionate merit. Johnson.

Note return to page 78 1He is complete in feature,] He has all the advantage which is derived from a handsome well formed person. Feature in the age of Shakspeare often signified both beauty of countenance, and elegance of person. See Bullokar's Expositor, 8vo. 1616: “Feature; handsomeness, comelinesse, beautie.” So, in K. Henry VI. First Part. “Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, “Approves her fit for none but for a king.” Again in K. Richard III.: “Cheated of feature by dissembling nature.” Malone.

Note return to page 79 2I need not 'cite him to it:] i. e. incite him to it. Malone.

Note return to page 80 3They say, that love hath not an eye at all.] Thus certainly Cupid hath been long represented by the moderns; and on this fancy, Amaltheus formed his beautiful lines on Acon and Leonilla. But it is remarkable that no trace of such a notion has been found in any ancient Latin or Greek poet; nor has it been ascertained at what period or by whom this delineation of the god of love was first given. Malone.

Note return to page 81 3No, that you are worthless.] I have supplied the particle no, to fill up the measure. Johnson.

Note return to page 82 4Ser. Madam, my lord your father &lblank;] This speech in all the editions is assigned improperly to Thurio; but he has been all along upon the stage, and could not know that the duke wanted his daughter. Besides, the first line and half of Silvia's answer is evidently addressed to two persons. A servant, therefore, must come in and deliver the message; and then Silvia goes out with Thurio. Theobald.

Note return to page 83 *First folio, emperious.

Note return to page 84 5Whose high imperious thoughts &lblank;] For whose I read those. I have contemned love and am punished. Those high thoughts, by which I exalted myself above human passions or frailties, have brought upon me fasts and groans. Johnson. I have no doubt that the reading of the old copy is right. Imperious (which in our author's time generally signified imperial), is an epithet very frequently applied to love by Shakspeare and his contemporaries. So, in The Famous Historie of George Lord Faulconbridge, 4to. 1616, p. 16: “Such an imperious God is love, and so commanding.” A few lines lower, Valentine observes, that “love's a mighty lord.” That imperious formerly signified imperial, is shewn by a passage in Hamlet: “Imperious Cæsar dead and turn'd to clay—” and various others quoted there and elsewhere. See also Cowdray's Alphabetical Table of Hard Words, 8vo. 1604: “Imperious; desiring to rule; full of commanding; stately.” Malone.

Note return to page 85 6&lblank; no woe to his correction,] No misery that can be compared to the punishment inflicted by love. Herbert called for the prayers of the Liturgy a little before his death, saying, None to them, none to them. Johnson. The same idiom occurs in an old ballad, quoted in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “There is no comfort in the world. “To women that are kind.” Malone.

Note return to page 86 7No; but she is an earthly paragon.] So, in Cymbeline: “By Jupiter an angel, or if not, “An earthly paragon.” Malone.

Note return to page 87 8&lblank; a principality,] The first or principal of women. So the old writers use state: “She is a lady, a great state.” Latymer. “This look is called in states warlie, in others otherwise.” Sir T. More. Johnson. There is a similar sense of this word in St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, viii. 38: “nor angels nor principalities.” Mr. M. Mason thus judiciously paraphrases the sentiment of Valentine: “If you will not acknowledge her as divine, let her at least be considered as an angel of the first order, superior to every thing on earth.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's interpretation, “the principal of women,” appears to me questionable. Both from the preceding and the subsequent words, Valentine seems to mean that his mistress was more than any earthly sovereign, and subordinate only to the Divine Nature. The poet was probably thinking of the words in the Sacred Writings quoted by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 88 9&lblank; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root, &c.] So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; You debase your knee “To make the base earth proud by kissing it.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “But if thou fall, O then imagine this, “The earth in love with thee thy footing trips, “And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.” Malone.

Note return to page 89 1&lblank; summer-swelling flower,] I once thought that our poet had written summer-smelling; but the epithet which stands in the text I have since met with in the translation of Lucan, by Sir Arthur Gorges, 1614, b. viii. p. 354: “&lblank; no Roman chieftaine should “Come neare to Nyle's Pelusian mould, “But shun that sommer-swelling shore.” The original is, “&lblank; ripasque æstate tumentes,” l. 827. May likewise renders it summer-swelled banks. The summer-swelling flower is the flower which swells in summer, till it expands itself into bloom. Steevens.

Note return to page 90 *First folio, braggadisme.

Note return to page 91 2Val. She is alone. Pro. Then let her alone.] These speeches, and innumerable others of the same kind which occur in these plays, might have shewn Mr. Steevens how improper and unwarrantable it is, by insertion or omission of words, to make all our poet's lines blank verse in those scenes where the dialogue in general is metrical. So, below: “But she loves you,” which makes no part of a verse. Again, afterwards in this scene: “Val. Will you make haste? “Pro. I will.” Malone.

Note return to page 92 3&lblank; unto the road,] The haven where ships ride at anchor. So, in the Merchant of Venice: “For here I find for certain that my ships “Are safely come to road.” Malone.

Note return to page 93 4Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten.] Our author has frequently introduced this kind of imagery in subsequent plays. So in King John: “&lblank; falshood falshood cures, as fire cures fire, “Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “As fire drives out fire, so pity pity.” Again, in Coriolanus: “One fire drives out one fire, one nail one nail.” The latter image occurs also in the Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, 1582: which the poet may here have had in his thoughts, having, like the author of that poem, applied this imagery to the subject of love: “And as out of a planke a nayle a nayle doth drive, “So novel love out of the minde the ancient love doth rive.” Malone.

Note return to page 94 5Is it her mien, or Valentinus' praise,] The only authentick copy of this play, the folio 1623, reads— “It is mine, or Valentine's praise?” Finding no sense here, the editor of the second folio, perceiving a note of interrogation at the end of the sentence, very rightly made the words it is change places; but absurdly supplied the word omitted by reading— “Is it mine then, or Valentinean's praise?” Dr. Warburton supplied the word eye; and the subsequent editors read with him, “Is it mine eye, or,” &c. I shall subjoin his note, that the reading which he suggested may not be deprived of such support as it affords. For the present judicious and happy emendation, I am indebted to my friend the Rev. Mr. Blakeway, Vicar of St. Mary's, in Shrewsbury: “Is it her mien, i. e. countenance, air,” &c. The word mien occurs but in one other place in these plays, Merry Wives of Windsor, Act. I. Sc. III. when it is spelt as it is here: “but the revolt of mine is dangerous;” indeed that is the general spelling of this word in Shakspeare's age, adopted from the French language, from which the word was taken. It appears to me more probable that a compositor should omit a personal pronoun than the principal and important word of the clause; that is, that her was omitted, rather than eye. Besides, this emendation is much more consonant to the following line, with which the present, thus amended, exactly corresponds: “Is it her mien, or Valentines praise, “Her true perfection, or my false transgression?” Again, below: “She is fair; &c.” For Valentines, the old genitive case of Valentine, I formerly substituted Valentinus', which is found in a former scene; [Act I. Sc. III.]; and Mr. Steevens afterwards adopted the same reading; for he had before printed Valentinos. But there is no need of departing in this instance from the old copy, which is supported by similar examples elsewhere. Malone. Here Proteus questions with himself, whether it is his own praise, or Valentine's, that makes him fall in love with Valentine's mistress. But not to insist on the absurdity of falling in love through his own praises, he had not indeed praised her any farther than giving his opinion of her in three words, when his friend asked it of him. A word is wanting in the first folio. The line was originally thus: “It is mine eye, or Valentino's praise?” Proteus had just seen Valentine's mistress, whom her lover had been lavishly praising. His encomiums, therefore, heightening Proteus's ideas of her at the interview, it was the less wonder he should be uncertain which had made the strongest impression, Valentine's praises, or his own view of her. Warburton.

Note return to page 95 6&lblank; a waxen image 'gainst a fire,] Alluding to the figures made by witches, as representatives of those whom they designed to torment or destroy. See my note on Macbeth, Act I. Sc. III. Steevens. King James ascribes these images to the devil, in his treatise of Daemonologie: “to some others at these times he teacheth how to make pictures of waxe or claye, that by the roasting thereof the persons that they bear the name of may be continually melted, and dried away by continual sicknesse.” See Servius on the 8th Eclogue of Virgil, Theocritus Idyl. 2. 22. Hudibras, p. 2. 1. 2. v. 331. S. Weston.

Note return to page 96 7&lblank; with more advice,] Is, on further knowledge, on better consideration. Steevens. The word is still current among mercantile people, whose constant language is “we are advised by letters from abroad;” meaning—informed. So, in bills of exchange, the conclusion always is, “without further advice &lblank;.” So, as Mr. Steevens has observed, in Measure for Measure: “Yet did repent me, after more advice.” Malone.

Note return to page 97 8'Tis but her picture &lblank;] This is evidently a slip of attention, for he had seen her in the last scene, and in high terms offered her his service. Johnson. I believe Proteus means to say that, as yet, he had seen only her outside form, without having known her long enough to have any acquaintance with her mind. So, in Cymbeline: “All of her that is out of door most rich! “If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,” &c. Again, in The Winter's Tale, Act. II. Sc. I.: “Praise her but for this her without-door form.” Perhaps Proteus is mentally comparing his fate with that of Pyrocles, the hero of Sidney's Arcadia, who fell in love with Philoclea immediately on seeing her portrait in the house of Kalander. Steevens. I do not believe the poet had the Arcadia at all in his thoughts. When a passage affords a natural and easy meaning, why should we suppose that the writers had a passage of a preceding author in contemplation, which, instead of confirming that interpretation, is inconsistent with it, and presents a circumstance wholly different. Malone.

Note return to page 98 9And that hath dazzled my reason's light; But when I look, &c.] Our author uses dazzled as a trisyllable. So, also, Drayton: “A diadem once dazzling the eye, “The day too darke to see affinitie.” &c. The editor of the second folio, not perceiving this, introduced so, (“And that hath dazzled so,” &c.) a word as hurtful to the sense as unnecessary to the metre. The plain meaning is, Her mere outside has dazzled me;—when I am acquainted with the perfections of her mind, I shall be struck blind. Mr. Steevens, who, in the three editions which preceded mine, had followed the corrupt reading of the second folio, has here not subjoined one word in defence of that adulterated copy. Malone.

Note return to page 99 1&lblank; to Milan.] It is Padua in the former editions. See the note on Act III. Sc. III. Pope.

Note return to page 100 2My staff understands me.] This equivocation, miserable as it is, has been admitted by Milton in his great poem, b. vi: “&lblank; The terms we sent were terms of weight, “Such as we may perceive, amaz'd them all, “And stagger'd many; who receives them right, “Had need from head to foot well understand; “Not understood, this gift they have besides, “To shew us when our foes stand not upright.” Johnson. The same quibble occurs likewise in the second part of The Three Merry Coblers, an ancient ballad: “Our work doth th' owners understand, “Thus still we are on the mending hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 101 3&lblank; how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable lover?] i. e. (as Mr. Mason has elsewhere observed) What say'st thou to this circumstance,—namely, that my master is become a notable lover? Malone.

Note return to page 102 4If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, &c.] The word so, which is not found in the original copy, was added in the second folio; and though I am extremely doubtful whether it is necessary, I have yet admitted it into the text; because Falstaff, I think, more than once used the same phraseology. But certainly the old copy, without any additional word, is intelligible, if we place a comma after the word wilt. If thou wilt, go with me to the ale-house; if not, &c. If it be thy pleasure, accompany me, &c. In the Sacred Writings we have “thou wilt” in the same sense. Malone.

Note return to page 103 5&lblank; the ale &lblank;] Ales were merry meetings instituted in country places. Thus, Ben Jonson: “And all the neighbourhood, from old records “Of antique proverbs drawn from Whitson lords, “And their authorities at wakes and ales, “With country precedents, and old wives' tales, “We bring you now.” Again, in Ascham's Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 2: “&lblank; or else make merry with their neighbours at the ale.” Again, as Mr. M. Mason observes, in the play of Lord Cromwell: O Tom, that we were now at Putney, at the ale there!” See also Mr. T. Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 128. Steevens.

Note return to page 104 6It is to be observed, that, in the folio edition there are no directions concerning the scenes; they have been added by the later editors, and may therefore be changed by any reader that can give more consistency or regularity to the drama by such alterations. I make this remark in this place, because I know not whether the following soliloquy of Proteus is so proper in the street. Johnson. The reader will perceive that the scenery has been changed, though Dr. Johnson's observation is continued. Steevens.

Note return to page 105 7O sweet-suggesting love,] To suggest is to tempt in our author's language. So, again: “Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested.” The sense is, O tempting love, if thou hast influenced me to sin, teach me to excuse it. Johnson.

Note return to page 106 8For love is still most precious in itself;] So the original copy. For most, Mr. Steevens has in his last three editions substituted more. Malone.

Note return to page 107 9And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Thou for whom Jove would swear “Juno but an Ethiope were.” Malone.

Note return to page 108 1&lblank; in counsel, his competitor:] Myself, who am his competitor or rival, being admitted to his counsel. Johnson. Competitor is confederate, assistant, partner. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Is it not Cæsar's natural vice to hate “One great competitor?” And he is speaking of Lepidus, one of the triumvirate. Steevens. Steevens is right in asserting, that competitor, in this place, means confederate, or partner.—The word is used in the same sense in Twelfth Night, where the Clown, seeing Maria and Sir Toby approach, who were joined in the plot against Malvolio, says, “The competitors enter.” And again, in K. Richard III. the messenger says: “&lblank; The Guildfords are in arms, “And every hour more competitors “Flock to the rebels.” So, also, in Love's Labour's Lost: “The king and his competitors in oath.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 109 2&lblank; pretended flight;] Pretended flight is proposed or intended flight. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; What could they pretend.” Mr. M. Mason justly observes, that the verb pretendre in French has the same signification. Steevens. Again, in Dr. A. Borde's Introduction of Knowledge, 1542, sig. H 3: “I pretend to return and come round about thorow other regyons in Europ.” Reed.

Note return to page 110 3I suspect that the author concluded the act with this couplet, and that the next scene should begin the third act; but the change, as it will add nothing to the probability of the action, is of no great importance. Johnson.

Note return to page 111 4And, e'en in kind love, I do cònjure thee,] The verb to conjure, or earnestly request, had the accent on the first syllable in our author's time. So, in Macbeth: “I cònjure thee by that which you profess.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “I cònjure thee by all the parts of man.” Again, in The Comedy of Errors: “I cònjure thee to leave me and begone.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “She cònjures him by high almighty love.” Malone.

Note return to page 112 5&lblank; the fire's extreme rage,] Fire is here, as in many other places, used as a dissyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 113 *First folio, that.

Note return to page 114 †First folio, likes.

Note return to page 115 6&lblank; with a cod-piece, &c.] Whoever wishes to be acquainted with this particular, relative to dress, may consult Buliver's Artificial Changeling, where such matters are amply discussed. It is mentioned, however, in Tyro's Roaring Megge, 1598: “Tyro's round breeches have a cliffe behind; “And that same perking longitude before, “Which for a pin-case antique plowmen wore.” Ocular instruction may be had from the armour shown as John of Gaunt's in the Tower of London. The same fashion appears to have been no less offensive in France. See Montaigne, chap. xxii. The custom of sticking pins in this ostentatious piece of indecency was continued by the illiberal warders of the Tower, till forbidden by authority. Steevens. However offensive this language may appear to modern ears, it certainly gave none to any of the spectators in Shakspeare's days. He only used the ordinary language of his contemporaries. Thus in the middle of King James's reign, Lodowick Barry puts the same language into the mouth of a lady, who is disguised in the dress of a page: “&lblank; methinks this cod-piece “Should betray me.” Ram Alley, 1611. Again, ibid.: “&lblank; Sure we never more shall see “A good leg worne in a long silk stocking, With a long cod-piece, of all fashions “That carried it, father.” Here also the speaker is a lady. Malone.

Note return to page 116 8Out, out, Lucetta! &c.] Dr. Percy observes, that this interjection is still used in the North. It seems to have the same meaning as a page, Lat. So, in Chapman's version of the thirteenth Iliad: “Out, out, I hate ye from my heart, ye rotten-minded men!” Steevens. So, in Every Man out of his Humour, Act. II. Sc. VI.: “Out, out! unworthy to speak where he breatheth.” Reed.

Note return to page 117 9And instances of the infinite of love,] The old copy has— of infinite of love; from which I have only deviated by the substitution of the for of. We have in other places the infinite used as a substantive. Thus, in Much Ado About Nothing: “It is past the infinite of thought.” Again, in Troïlus and Cressida: “The past proportion of his infinite.” Infinites appears even in the latter end of the sixteenth century to have been used as a substantive in the sense of an infinity. Thus in the Memoirs of Lord Lonsdale, written in 1688, and printed in 1808, p. 49: “Infinites of men prest for the shippes and forces drawn out of Ireland.” The person who revised the second folio gave the reading which has been adopted in all the modern editions.: “And instances as infinite of love.” But of and as are by no means likely to have been confounded. Besides, as is not supported by the context; for the oaths mentioned in the preceding line were not infinite, their number, though a large one, being specified. Malone.

Note return to page 118 1&lblank; my longing journey.] Dr. Grey observes, that longing is a participle active, with a passive signification; for longed, wished or desired. Steevens. I believe that by her longing journey, Julia means a journey which she shall pass in longing. M. Mason.

Note return to page 119 2&lblank; jealous aim &lblank;] Aim is guess, in this instance, as in the following. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.” Steevens. So, also, in Othello: “Yet in these cases, where the aim reports, “'Tis oft with difference.” Malone.

Note return to page 120 3&lblank; suggested,] Tempted. This use of the word is frequent in Shakspeare; see before, p. 60. Boswell.

Note return to page 121 4&lblank; be not aimed at;] Be not guessed. Johnson.

Note return to page 122 5&lblank; of this pretence.] Of this claim made to your daughter. Johnson. Pretence is design. So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; to my affection to your honour, and no other pretence of danger.” Again, in the same play: “&lblank; pretence and purpose of unkindness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 123 6And, where &lblank;] Where for whereas. It is often so used by our old writers, particularly in the preambles of ancient acts of parliament. Malone.

Note return to page 124 7&lblank; sir, in Milan, here,] It ought to be thus, instead of—in Verona, here: for the scene apparently is in Milan, as is clear from several passages in the first act, and in the beginning of the first scene of the fourth act. A like mistake has crept into the eighth [fifth] scene of Act II. where Speed bids his fellow-servant Launce welcome to Padua. Pope. The old copy has— “There is a lady in Verona here,” And the circumstance that the word Verona exactly suits the metre, which is not the case with Milan, seems to indicate that this was an oversight of the youthful authour. Mr. Pope, to make out the verse, was obliged to add sir; but it is very unlikely that the compositor should have made two blunders of so different a kind in one line. However, to prevent the confusion that would arise from the introduction of Verona here, I have reluctantly followed all the other editions in adopting this emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 125 8&lblank; the fashion of the time &lblank;] The modes of courtship, the acts by which men recommended themselves to ladies. Johnson.

Note return to page 126 9Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.] And earlier writer than Shakspeare, speaking of women, has the same unfavourable (and, I hope, unfounded) sentiment: “'Tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevails, “When deep persuasive oratory fails.” Marlowe's Hero and Leander. Our poet had probably read the popular poem recently before he composed this play. See the next page: “Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, “So bold Leander would adventure it.” See also p. 10, n. 6. To this note in Mr. Steeven's last two editions some passages have been added, for which I am not answerable. I know not where they came from. Malone. Again, in the First Part of Jeronymo, 1605: though written much earlier: &lblank;let his protestations be “Fashioned with rich jewels, for in love “Great gifts and gold have the best tongues to move. “Let him not spare an oath without a jewel “To bind it fast: oh, I know women's hearts “What stuff they are made of, my lord; gifts and giving, “Will melt the chastest seeming female living.” Reed. In the fourth of the preceding lines spare is undoubtedly an errour of the press in the old edition of Jeronymo, for swear. Malone.

Note return to page 127 1&lblank; sent her.] Mr. Steevens, to produce (as he says) “a more accurate rhyme, “would read—that I sent, Sir; and Mr. J. M. Mason, with the same view, leaving the first line as it now stands, would read in that which follows,—what best content her, i. e. those gifts which best content her. I know not which of these suggestions is most exceptionable. He who has observed the laxity of ancient rhymes will not suspect any errour in the text; only three lines lower we find the word you repeated as rhyme; which might have cautioned Mr. Steevens against tampering with the old copy on the ground of too great a similarity of the rhymes. So, in the Tempest: “Hourly joys be still upon you, “Juno sings her blessings on you.” Malone.

Note return to page 128 2What lets,] i. e. what hinders. So, in Hamlet, Act I. Sc. IV.: “By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 129 3My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom, &c.] i. e. the thoughts contained in my letter. See a subsequent note in this scene, on the words, “Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.” Malone.

Note return to page 130 4&lblank; for they are sent &lblank;] For is the same as for that, since. Johnson.

Note return to page 131 5&lblank; Merops' son,)] Thou art Phaëton in thy rashness, but without his pretensions; thou art not the son of a divinity, but a terræ filius, a low-born wretch; Merops is thy true father, with whom Phaëton was falsely reproached. Johnson. This scrap of mythology Shakspeare might have found in the spurious play of K. John, 1591:   “&lblank; as sometime Phaeton, “Mistrusting silly Merops for his sire.” Or in Robert Greene's Orlando Furioso, 1594: “Why, foolish, hardy, daring, simple groom, “Follower of fond conceited Phaëton,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 132 6But if thou linger in my territories, Longer than swiftest expedition Will give thee time to leave our royal court, By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.] So, as Mr. Boaden suggests to me, in King Lear: “Five days we do allow thee for provision,— “And on the sixth to turn thy hated back “Upon our kingdom: if on the tenth day following “Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, “The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, “This shall not be revok'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 133 7And feed upon the shadow of perfection.] Animum pictura pascit inani. Virg. Henley.

Note return to page 134 8I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:] To fly his doom, used for by flying, or in flying, is a gallicism. The sense is, By avoiding the execution of his sentence I shall not escape death. If I stay here, I suffer myself to be destroyed; if I go away, I destroy myself. Johnson.

Note return to page 135 9&lblank; there's not a hair &lblank;] Launce is still quibbling. He is now running down the hare that he started when he entered. Malone.

Note return to page 136 1Who would'st thou strike?] Our author throughout his plays has confounded the personal pronouns, and uses one for the other: (who for whom, she for her, him for he, &c.) Nor was this inaccuracy peculiar to him, being very common when he wrote even among persons of good education. So, in Othello: “Iago. He's married: “Cas. To who?” Again, in Othello: “Oth. Ha, with who?” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; he hath a court “He little cares for, and a daughter who “He not respects at all.” See various other instances to the same purpose in the Essay on Shakspeare's Phraseology: The reviser of the second folio was so little acquainted with the phraseology of a former period, that he has here, and in various other places, substituted whom for who; in which he has been followed by Mr. Steevens, and all other modern editors. Malone.

Note return to page 137 2O, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit.] So, in Twelfth Night: “Give me excess of it, that surfeiting, “The appetite may sicken and so die.” Malone.

Note return to page 138 *First folio, banish'd.

Note return to page 139 3Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.] So, in Hamlet: “These to her excellent white bosom,” &c. Again, in Gascoigne's Adventures of Master F. J. first edit. p. 206: At delivery thereof, [i. e. of a letter,] she understood not for what cause he thrust the “same into her bosom.” Trifling as the remark may appear, before the meaning of this address of letters to the bosom of a mistress can be understood, it should be known that women anciently had a pocket in the fore part of their stays, in which they not only carried love-letters and love tokens, but even their money and materials for needle-work. Thus Chaucer, in his Merchantes Tale: “This purse hath she in hire bosome hid.” In many parts of England the rustic damsels still observe the same practice; and a very old lady informs me that she remembers when it was the fashion to wear very prominent stays, it was no less the custom for stratagem or gallantry to drop its literary favours within the front of them. Steevens. See Lord Surrey's Sonnets, 1557: “My song, thou shalt attain to find the pleasant place, “Where she doth live, by whom I live; may chance to have the grace, “When she hath read, and seen the grief wherein I serve, “Between her brests she shall thee put, there shall she thee reserve.” Malone.

Note return to page 140 4Launce. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think, my master is a kind of a knave; but that's all one, if he be but one knave.] Where is the sense, or, if you won't allow the speaker that, where is the humour of this speech? Nothing had given the fool occasion to suspect that his master was become double, like Antipholis in The Comedy of Errors. The last word is corrupt. We should read: &lblank; if he be but one kind &lblank; He thought his master was a kind of knave; however, he keeps himself in countenance with this reflection, that if he was a knave but of one kind, he might pass well enough amongst his neighbours. This is truly humourous. Warburton. This alteration is acute and specious, yet I know not whether, in Shakspeare's language, one knave may not signify a knave on only one occasion, a single knave. We still use a double villain for a villain beyond the common rate of guilt. Johnson. This passage has been altered, with little difference, by Dr. Warburton and Sir T. Hanmer.—Mr. Edwards explains it,—“if he only be a knave, if I myself be not found to be another.” I agree with Dr. Johnson, and will support the old reading and his interpretation with indisputable authority. In the old play of Damon and Pythias, Aristippus declares of Carisophus: “You lose money by him if you sell him for one knave, for he serves for twayne.” This phraseology is often met with: Arragon says, in The Merchant of Venice: “With one fool's head I came to woo, “But I go away with two.” Donne begins one of his sonnets: “I am two fools, I know, “For loving and for saying so,” &c. And when Panurge cheats St. Nicholas of the chapel, which he vowed to him in a storm, Rabelais calls him “a rogue—a rogue and an half—Le gallant, gallant de demy.” Farmer. Again, in Like Will to Like, quoth the Devil to the Collier, 1587: “Thus thou may'st be called a knave in graine, “And where knaves be scant, thou may'st go for twayne. Steevens. My master is a kind of knave; but that were no great matter, if he were but one knave; but he is two—a knave to his friend and a knave to his mistress. Capell.

Note return to page 141 5&lblank; but a team of horse shall not pluck &lblank;] I see how Valentine suffers for telling his love-secrets, therefore I will keep mine close. Johnson. Perhaps Launce was not intended to shew so much sense; but here indulges himself in talking contradictory nonsense. Steevens. So, in Twelfth Night: “I think oxen and wain ropes cannot hale them together.” Malone.

Note return to page 142 6&lblank; for she hath had gossips:] Gossips not only signify those who answer for a child in baptism, but the tattling women who attend lyings-in. The quibble between these is evident. Steevens.

Note return to page 143 7&lblank; a bare christian.] Launce is quibbling on. Bare has two senses; mere and naked. In Coriolanus it is used in the first: “'Tis but a bare petition of the state.” Launce uses it in both, and opposes the naked female to the water-spaniel cover'd with hairs of remarkable thickness. Steevens.

Note return to page 144 8&lblank; conditions.] i. e. qualities. The old copy has condition. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 145 9&lblank; with my master's ship?] The old copy reads—mastership. The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 146 *First folio, the black'st.

Note return to page 147 1&lblank; the son of thy grandmother:] It is undoubtedly true that the mother only knows the legitimacy of the child. I suppose Launce infers, that if he could read, he must have read this well-known observation. Steevens.

Note return to page 148 2&lblank; saint Nicholas be thy speed!] St. Nicholas presided over scholars, who were therefore called St. Nicholas's clerks. Hence, by a quibble between Nicholas and Old Nick, highwaymen, in The First Part of Henry the Fourth, are called Nicholas's clerks. Warburton. That this saint presided over young scholars may be gathered from Knight's Life of Dean Collet, p. 362; for by the statutes of Paul's school there inserted, the children are required to attend divine service at the cathedral on his anniversary. The reason I take to be, that the legend of this saint makes him to have been a bishop, while he was a boy. Sir J. Hawkins. So, Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589: “Methinks this fellow speaks like bishop Nicholas; for on Saint Nicholas's night commonly the scholars of the country make them a bishop, who, like a foolish boy, goeth about blessing and preaching with such childish terms, as maketh the people laugh at his foolish counterfeit speeches.” Steevens.

Note return to page 149 3Speed Imprimis, She can milk. Launce. Ay, that she can.] These two speeches should evidently be omitted. There is not only no attempt at humour in them, contrary to all the rest in the same dialogue, but Launce clearly directs Speed to go on with the paper where he himself left off. See his preceding soliloquy. Farmer. Of all the modes of emendation, omission is, in my opinion, the most dangerous; and therefore nothing but the most cogent reasons shall ever induce me to omit what is found in the most authentic copies. A compositor may inadvertently repeat a word in a line, or his eye may catch a word from a preceding or subsequent line, and hence the sense of a passage may be destroyed; but he never invents whole lines or speeches, nor do transcribers. Shakspeare, we know, in repeating a letter already recited from a paper, sometimes varies the words, in spite of the adage, litera scripta manet; and therefore, I am confident, took no care that Speed should begin where Launce left off. Malone.

Note return to page 150 4&lblank; She brews good ale.] Females were much employed in Shakspeare's time in brewing ale, and the same office is still performed by them in many counties in England. Malone.

Note return to page 151 5Blessing of your heart, &c.] So, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Augurs: “Our ale's o' the best, “And each good guest “Prays for their souls that brew it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 152 6&lblank; knit him a stock?] i. e. a stocking. So, in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; it does indifferent well in a flame-colour'd stock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 153 7&lblank; She is not to be kiss'd fasting,] The old copy reads,—she is not to be fasting, &c. The necessary word, kiss'd, was first added by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 154 8&lblank; sweet mouth.] This I take to be the same with what is now vulgarly called a sweet tooth, a luxurious desire of dainties and sweetmeats. Johnson. So, in Thomas Pagnell's translation of Ulrick Hutton's book De Medecina Guaiaci et morbo Gallico, 1539:—“delicates and deynties wherewith they may stere up their sweete mouthes, and provoke their appetites.” Yet how a luxurious desire of dainties can make amends for offensive breath, I know not. A sweet mouth may however mean a liquorish mouth, in a wanton sense. So, in Measure for Measure: “Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, &c.” Steevens. There is, I conceive, no difficulty here. When Speed uses the term sweet mouth, he may use those words with a view to the works of the confectioner, and allude to a “luxurious desire of dainties and sweetmeats;” but in Launce's reply,—the same words may be understood in a quite different sense, as expressive of the beauty playing about that part of the face, which, according to him, may make amends for an offensive breath. Hall in his Satires, book iv. sat. l., 1599, has used the expression here introduced: “Let sweet mouth'd Mercia bid what crownes she please, “For half-red cherries, or greene garden peas,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 155 9&lblank; praise her liquor.] That is, shew how well she likes it by drinking often. Johnson.

Note return to page 156 1&lblank; too liberal.] Liberal, is licentious and gross in language. So, in the Othello: “Is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?” Johnson. Again, in The Fair Maid of Bristow, 1605, bl. 50: “But Vallenger, most like a liberal villain, “Did give her scandalous ignoble terms.” Steevens. Again, in Woman's a Weathercock, by N. Field, 1612: “&lblank; next that the fame “Of your neglect and liberal-talking tongue, “Which breeds my honour an eternal wrong.” Malone.

Note return to page 157 2&lblank; cannot I help.] Thus the old copy, for which Mr. Steevens has given us—I cannot help. This minute matter is noticed, lest it should be supposed that the printer had committed an errour. Malone.

Note return to page 158 3&lblank; She hath more hair than wit,] An old English proverb. See Ray's Collection: “Bush natural, more hair than wit.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix: “Hair! 'tis the basest stubble; in scorn of it “This proverb sprung,—He has more hair than wit.” Again, in Rhodon and Iris, 1631: “Now is the old proverb really perform'd; “More hair than wit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 159 4&lblank; the cover of the salt hides the salt,] The ancient English salt cellar was very different from the modern, being a large piece of plate, generally much ornamented, with a cover, to keep the salt clean. There was but one salt cellar on the dinner table, which was placed near the top of the table; and those who sat below the salt were, for the most part, of an inferior condition to those who sat above it. Malone.

Note return to page 160 5&lblank; makes the faults gracious:] Gracious, in old language, means graceful. So, in K. John: “There was not such a gracious creature born.” Again, in Albion's Triumph, 1631: “On which [the freeze] went festoons of several fruits in their natural colours, on which in gracious postures lay children sleeping.” Again, in the Male Content, 1604: “The most exquisite, &c. that ever made an old lady gracious by candle-light.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's interpretation of the word gracious has been controverted, but it is right. We have the same sentiment in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults “Look handsome in three hundred pounds a year!” Malone.

Note return to page 161 6Trenched in ice &lblank;] Cut, carved in ice. Trancher, to cut, Fr. Johnson. So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “Is deeply trenched in my blushing brow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 162 7&lblank; grievously,] So some copies of the first folio, 1623, the only authentick copy of this play; others (of which mine is one) have heavily. Those copies which have grievously, have also, in one of Launce's speeches in the preceding scene, “in that last article,” instead of which, in the copies that read heavily, we find “in that article.” Both these corrections appear to have been made while the sheet was working off at the press. Malone.

Note return to page 163 8&lblank; with circumstance,] With the addition of such incidental particulars as may induce belief. Johnson.

Note return to page 164 9&lblank; his very friend.] Very is immediate. So, in Macbeth: “And the very ports they blow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 165 1&lblank; as you unwind her love &lblank;] As you wind off her love from him, make me the bottom on which you wind it. The housewife's term for a ball of thread wound upon a central body, is a bottom of thread. Johnson. So, in Grange's Garden, 1557: “in answer to a letter written unto him by a Curtyzan:” “A bottome for your silke it seems   “My letters are become, “Which oft with winding off and on   “Are wasted whole and some.” Steevens.

Note return to page 166 2&lblank; you may temper her,] Mould her, like wax, to whatever shape you please. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb; and shortly will I seal with him.” Malone.

Note return to page 167 3&lblank; lime,] That is, birdlime. Johnson.

Note return to page 168 4&lblank; such integrity: &lblank;] I suspect that a line following this has been lost; the import of which perhaps was “As her obdurate heart may penetrate.” Malone. Such integrity may mean such ardour and sincerity, as would be manifested by practising the directions given in the four preceding lines. Steevens. This note of Mr. Steevens, though carefully placed before the preceding remark in his edition, was written and published after it, and was intended to do away its force. The construction recommended is inadmissible: for the words—“that may discover such integrity,” manifestly relate to the last clause of some feeling line, and not to the whole of the preceding speech. Malone.

Note return to page 169 5For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews;] This shews Shakspeare's knowledge of antiquity. He here assigns Orpheus his true character of legislator. For under that of a poet only, or lover, the quality given to his lute is unintelligible. But, considered as a lawgiver, the thought is noble, and the imagery exquisitely beautiful. For by his lute, is to be understood his system of laws; and by the poet's sinews, the power of numbers, which Orpheus actually employed in those laws to make them received by a fierce and barbarous people. Warburton. Proteus is describing to Thurio the powers of poetry; and gives no quality to the lute of Orpheus, but those usually and vulgarly ascribed to it. It would be strange indeed if, in order to prevail upon the ignorant and stupid Thurio to write a sonnet to his mistress, he should enlarge upon the legislative powers of Orpheus, which were nothing to the purpose. Warburton's observations frequently tend to prove Shakspeare more profound and learned than the occasion required, and to make the Poet of Nature the most unnatural that ever wrote. M. Mason.

Note return to page 170 6&lblank; with some sweet concert:] The old copy has consort, which I once thought might have meant in our author's time a band or company of musicians. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo. “Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels?” The subsequent words, “To their instruments—,” seem to favour this interpretation; but other instances, that I have since met with, in books of our author's age, have convinced me that consort was only the old spelling of concert, and I have accordingly printed the latter word in the text. The epithet sweet, annexed to it, seems better adapted to the musick itself than to the band. Consort, when accented on the first syllable (as here) had, I believe, the former meaning; when on the second, it signified a company. So, in the next scene: “What say'st thou? Wilt thou be of our consórt?” In addition to these remarks, I may observe, that Coles in his Dictionary, 1679: renders consort by the Latin word concentus. With respect to the relative pronoun their, to which we have here no correspondent word, it must be remembered that Shakespeare frequently refers to words not expressed but implied in the former part of the sentence; thus in the present instance, the reference is to musicians, who are necessary to make a concert. So, in Othello: “&lblank; And bad me when my fate would have me wiv'd, “To give it her,” i. e. his wife. Malone.

Note return to page 171 7Tune a deploring dump;] A dump was the ancient term for a mournful elegy. A DOMPE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. For this curiosity the reader is indebted to Stafford Smith, Esq. of His Majesty's Chapel Royal. Steevens.

Note return to page 172 8&lblank; will inherit her.] To inherit, is by our author sometimes used, as in this instance, for to obtain possession of, without any idea of acquiring by inheritance. So, in Titus Andronicus: “He that had wit, would think that I had none, “To bury so much gold under a tree, “And never after to inherit it.” This sense of the word was not wholly disused in the time of Milton, who in his Comus has—“dis-inherit Chaos,” meaning only dispossess it. Steevens.

Note return to page 173 9To sort &lblank;] i. e. to choose out. So, in K. Richard III.: “Yet I will sort a pitchy hour for thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 1&lblank; I will pardon you.] I will excuse you from waiting. Johnson.

Note return to page 175 2If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.] The The old copy reads as I have printed the passage; paltry as the opposition between stand and sit may be thought, it is Shakspeare's own. My predecessors read—we'll make you, sir, &c. Steevens. Sir is the corrupt reading of the third folio. Mr. Steevens's immediate predecessor (the present editor) did not adopt this false reading. Malone.

Note return to page 176 3&lblank; a proper man.] i. e. a well-looking man; he has the appearance of a gentleman. So, in Much Ado About Nothing, “at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.” Proper, it should be observed, relates not to the countenance, but to the person or figure, and implies height and symmetry of form. So, near the conclusion of this scene, one of the outlaws, addressing Valentine, says, “And partly, seeing you are beautified “With goodly shape.” Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, renders this word by procerus. So, in an old ballad concerning Robert the celebrated Earl of Essex: “Then said the prentices proper and tall, “For Essex's sake we will die all.” Malone.

Note return to page 177 4&lblank; Robin Hood's fat friar,] Robin Hood was captain of a band of robbers, and was much inclined to rob churchmen. Johnson. So, in A Merry Geste of Robin Hoode, &c. bl. l. no date: “These byshoppes and these archebyshoppes “Ye shall them beate and bynde,” &c. But by Robin Hood's fat friar, I believe, Shakspeare means Friar Tuck, who was confessor and companion to this noted outlaw. So, in one of the old songs of Robin Hood: “And of brave little John, “Of Friar Tuck and Will Scarlett, “Stokesly and Maid Marian.” Again, in the 26th song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “Of Tuck the merry friar which many a sermon made, “In praise of Robin Hoode, his out-lawes, and his trade.” Again, in Skelton's Play of Magnificence, f. 5, 6: “Another bade shave halfe my berde, “And boyes to the pylery gan me plucke, “And wolde have made me freer Tucke “To preche oute of the pylery hole.” See figure III. in the plate at the end of the first part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's observations on it. Steevens. Dr. Johnson seems to have misunderstood this passage. The speaker does not swear by the scalp of some churchman who had been plundered, but by the shaven crown of Robin Hood's chaplain: —“We will live and die all together (says a personage in Peele's K. Edward I. 1593:) like Robin Hood, little John, Friar Tucke, and Maid Marian.” Malone.

Note return to page 178 5&lblank; awful men:] Reverend, worshipful, such as magistrates, and other principal members of civil communities. Johnson. Awful is used by Shakspeare, in another place, in the sense of lawful. Second part of Henry IV. Act IV. Sc. II.: “We come within our awful banks again.” Tyrwhitt. So, in K. Henry V. 1600: “&lblank; creatures that by awe ordain “An act of order to a peopled kingdom.” Awful men are men full of awe and respect for the laws of society and the duties of life. So, in Richard II.: “And if we be, how dare thy joints forget “To pay their awful duty to our presence.” Malone. I think we should read lawful in opposition to lawless men. In judicial proceedings the word has this sense. Sir J. Hawkins. I believe we should read lawful men; i. e. legales homines. So, in the Newe Boke of Justices, 1560: “commaundinge him to the same to make an inquest and pannel of lawful men of his countie.” For this remark I am indebted to Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 179 6An heir, and near allied unto the duke.] All the impressions from the first downwards, read—“An heir and niece allied unto the duke.” But our poet would never have expressed himself so stupidly, as to tell us, this lady was the duke's niece, and allied to him: for her alliance was certainly sufficiently included in the first term. Our author meant to say, she was an heiress, and near allied to the duke; an expression the most natural that can be for the purpose, and very frequently used by the stage-poets. Theobald. A niece, or a nephew, did not always signify the daughter of a brother or sister, but any remote descendant. Of this use I have given instances as to a nephew. See Othello, Act I. I have not, however, disturbed Theobald's emendation. Steevens. The old copy reads—and heir. The correction was made in the third folio. Mr. Steevens asserts that a niece or a nephew did not always signify the daughter of a brother or sister, but any remote descendant. I suppose after “daughter” the words “or son” have been omitted in his note by an errour of the press. Knowing, however, that the former observation could throw no light on the present passage, he added “or any remote descendant.” But, in truth, the terms nephews and nieces, beside their ordinary meaning, were used to signify grand-sons and grand-daughters, but no other remote descendant; and how our understanding niece in the sense of grand-daughter would explain the present passage he has not told us. It is manifest, as Theobald has observed, that our poet would never have expressed himself so stupidly as to tell us that this lady was the Duke's niece, (in whatever sense we understand the word,) and also allied to him. Malone.

Note return to page 180 7Who, in my mood,] Mood is anger or resentment. Malone.

Note return to page 181 8&lblank; in our quality &lblank;] i. e. in our profession. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; task “Ariel, and all his quality.” Malone. Hamlet, speaking of the young players, says, “Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing?” afterwards, “Come give us a touch of your quality;” in both which passages quality means profession. M. Mason.

Note return to page 182 9&lblank; no outrages On silly women, or poor passengers.] This was one of the rules of Robin Hood's government. Steevens.

Note return to page 183 1&lblank; sudden quips,] That is, hasty passionate reproaches and scoffs. So Macbeth is in a kindred sense said to be sudden; that is, irascible and impetuous. Johnson. The same expression is used by Dr. Wilson in his Arte of Rhetorique, 1553:—“and make him at his wit's end through the sudden quip.” Malone.

Note return to page 184 2&lblank; you know, that love Will creep in service where it cannot go.] Kindness will creep where it cannot gang, is to be found in Kelly's Collection of Scottish Proverbs, p. 226. Reed.

Note return to page 185 3Who? Sylvia?] So the old copy; for which Mr. Steevens and the other modern editors have given us—Whom? Sylvia? See p. 76, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 186 4Jul. But shall I hear him speak? Host. Ay, that you shall. Jul. That will be musick.] So, in the Comedy of Errors: “When every word was musick to mine ear.” Malone.

Note return to page 187 5Who is Silvia? what is she, &c.— The heaven such grace did lend her,] So, in Pericles: “So buxom, blithe, and full of face, “As heaven had lent her all his grace.” Douce.

Note return to page 188 6&lblank; beauty lives with kindness:] Beauty without kindness dies unenjoyed, and undelighting. Johnson. So, Withers: “If she be not fair for me, “What care I how fair she be.” Malone.

Note return to page 189 7Upon the dull earth dwelling:] So, in Venus and Adonis, 1593: “He sees her coming;— “And with his bonnet hides his angry brow, “Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind.” Again, in our author's 29th Sonnet: “Like to the lark at break of day arising “From sullen earth.” Again, in King Henry II. Part II. Act I. Sc. II.: “Why are thine eyes fix'd on the sullen earth?” Malone.

Note return to page 190 8&lblank; out of all nick.] Beyond all reckoning or count. Reckonings are kept upon nicked or notched sticks or tallies. Warburton. So, in A Woman Never Vex'd, 1532: “&lblank; I have carried “The tallies at my girdle seven years together, “For I did ever love to deal honestly in the nick.” As it is an inn-keeper who employs the allusion, it is much in character. Steevens.

Note return to page 191 9You have your wish; my will is even this, &lblank;] The word will is here ambiguous. He wishes to gain her will: she tells him, if he wants her will, he has it. Johnson.

Note return to page 192 1&lblank; in his grave,] The old copy has—her grave. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 193 2But, since your falshood shall become you well &lblank;] This is hardly sense. We may read, with very little alteration: “But, since you're false, it shall become you well.” Johnson. There is no occasion for any alteration, if we only suppose that it is understood here, as in several other places: “But, since your falshood shall become you well “To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,” i. e. But, since your falshood, it shall become you well, &c. Or indeed, in this place, To worship shadows, &c. may be considered as the nominative case to shall become. Tyrwhitt. I once had a better opinion of the alteration proposed by Dr. Johnson than I have at present. I now believe the text is right, and that our author means, however licentious the expression,— But, since your falshood well becomes, or is well suited to, the worshipping of shadows, and the adoring of false shapes, send to me in the morning for my picture, &c. Or, in other words, But, since the worshipping of shadows, and the adoring of false shapes, shall well become you, false as you are, send, &c. To worship shadows, &c. I consider as the objective case, as well as you. There are other instances in these plays of a double accusative depending on the same verb. I have therefore followed the punctuation of the old copy, and not placed a comma after falshood, as in those modern editions which preceded mine. Since is, I think, here not a preposition, but means inasmuch as. By supposing it a preposition, as Dr. Johnson and Mr. Tyrwhitt appear to have considered it, send in the third line is left unconnected with the word on which it in fact depends; for the construction is, since the present you desire is perfectly suitable to your character, send to me in the morning for it. Malone.

Note return to page 194 3By my halidom &lblank;] Minshieu thus explains this word in his Dictionary, 1617, folio: “Halidome or Holidome, an old word, used by old country women, by manner of swearing: by my halidome, of the Saxon word, haligdome, ex halig, i. e. sanctum, and dome, dominium aut judicium.” Malone.

Note return to page 195 4&lblank; most heaviest.] This use of the double superlative is frequent in our author. So, in King Lear, Act. II. Sc. III.: “To take the basest and most poorest shape.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens might have added that the same phraseology is found very often in the translation of the Bible, 1611; and in all the books of Shakspeare's age. Malone.

Note return to page 196 5&lblank; your ladyship's impose,] Impose is injunction, command. A task set at college, in consequence of a fault, is still called an imposition. Steevens.

Note return to page 197 6&lblank; remorseful,] Remorseful is pitiful. So, in the Maids Metamorphosis, by Lily, 1600: “Provokes my mind to take remorse of thee.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 2d Book of Homer's Iliad, 1598: “Descend on our long-toyled host with thy remorseful eye.” Again, in the same translator's version of the 20th Iliad: “&lblank; he was none of those remorsefull men, “Gentle and affable; but fierce at all times, and mad then.” Steevens.

Note return to page 198 7Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity:] It was common in former ages for widowers and widows to make vows of chastity in honour of their deceased wives or husbands. In Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire, p. 1013, there is the form of a commission by the bishop of the diocese for taking a vow of chastity made by a widow. It seems that, besides observing the vow, the widow was, for life, to wear a veil, and a mourning habit. The same distinction we may suppose to have been made in respect of male votarists; and therefore this circumstance might inform the players how sir Eglamour should be drest; and will account for Silvia's having chosen him as a person in whom she could confide without injury to her own character. Steevens.

Note return to page 199 8&lblank; grievances;] Sorrows, sorrowful affections. Johnson. In our author's time griefs frequently signified grievances; and the present instance shews that in return grievance sometimes was used in the sense of grief. Malone.

Note return to page 200 9Recking as little &lblank;] To reck is to care for. So, in Hamlet: “And recks not his own read.” Both Chaucer and Spenser use this word with the same signification. Steevens. In the old copy the word is written wrecking, but it is only the vulgar and common mode of spelling the word in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 201 1to her trencher,] In our author's time, trenchers were in general use even on the tables of the nobility. Hence Shakspeare, who gives to every country the customs of England, has furnished the Duke of Milan's dining table with them. Malone.

Note return to page 202 2&lblank; keep himself &lblank;] i. e. restrain himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 203 3&lblank; to be a dog &lblank;] I believe we should read—I would have, &c. one that takes upon him to be a dog, to be a dog indeed, to be &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 204 4&lblank; gentleman-like dogs,] So the authentick copy; for which the modern editions have—gentlemen like.

Note return to page 205 5&lblank; a pissing while,] This expression is used in Ben Jonson's Magnetic Lady: “&lblank; have patience but a pissing while.” It appears from Ray's Collection, that it is proverbial. Steevens.

Note return to page 206 6&lblank; the fellow that whips the dogs:] This appears to have been part of the office of an usher of the table. So, in Mucedorus: “&lblank; I'll prove my office good: for look you, &c.—When a dog chance to blow his nose backward, then with a whip I give him good time of the day, and strew rushes presently.” Steevens.

Note return to page 207 7&lblank; for his servant,] So the authentick copy; for which Mr. Pope substituted—their servant; as certainly our poet ought to have written. I have no doubt that the text is correct. His and their never could have been confounded together either by the eye or the ear. Malone.

Note return to page 208 8&lblank; madam Silvia;] Perhaps we should read of madam Julia. It was Julia only of whom a formal leave could have been taken. Steevens. Dr. Warburton, without any necessity I think, reads—Julia; “alluding to the leave his master and he took when they left Verona.” But it appears from a former scene, (as Mr. Heath has observed,) that Launce was not present when Proteus and Julia parted. Launce, on the other hand, has just taken leave of, i. e. parted from (for that is all that is meant) Madam Silvia. Mr. Steevens, it is observable, in his note, in support of Dr. Warburton's notion, has thrown in the word formal [a formal leave] which are not Launce's words. Malone.

Note return to page 209 *First folio, I'll do.

Note return to page 210 9the other squirrel, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer reads,—the other, Squirrel, &c. and consequently makes Squirrel the proper name of the beast. Perhaps Launce only speaks of it as a diminutive animal, more resembling a squirrel in size, than a dog. Steevens. It is printed with a capital letter in the first folio. Boswell. The subsequent words,—“who is a dog as big as ten of yours,” shew that Mr. Steeven's interpretation is the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 211 1&lblank; an end,] i. e. in the end, at the conclusion of every business he undertakes. Steevens. Still an end, and most an end, are vulgar expressions, and mean commonly, generally. So, in Massinger's Very Woman, a Citizen asks the Master, who had slaves to sell, “What will that girl do?” To which he replies: “&lblank; sure no harm at all, sir, “For she sleeps most an end.” M. Mason. This interpretation of Mr. M. Mason's is proved to be right by Mr. Gifford in his note on the passage quoted from Massinger. Boswell.

Note return to page 212 2Therefore know thee,] For this the reading of the only authentick copy, the second folio, more correctly reads—know thou; as our poet certainly ought to have written. But he who has so frequently gave us who for whom, and who has him for he, she for her, &c. would in the same licentious way write thee for thou. I have therefore made no change. Malone.

Note return to page 213 3She lov'd me well, deliver'd it to me.] i. e. She, who delivered it to me, lov'd me well. Malone. It seems, you lov'd her not, to leave her token:] Proteus does not properly leave his lady's token, he gives it away. The old edition has it— “It seems you loved her not, not leave her token.” I should correct it thus: “It seems you loved her not, nor love her token.” Johnson. The authentick copy reads: “It seems you lov'd not her, not leave her token.” The single errour appears to have been, that the compositor inadvertently repeated the word not, (a very common errour of the press,) instead of printing to, (to leave,) which word was substituted for not, in the second folio. To leave, seems here to be used in the sense of to part with. So, in a former scene, we find the same words signifying to cease: “I leave to be,” i. e. “I part with my being.” This explanation, which corresponds with that of Mr. M. Mason in the following note, was written and printed three years before his comments appeared; a circumstance which I mention, because he appears to have known so little of the progress of the press, as to have supposed that because my first edition was published in 1790, my commentaries were all subsequent to his, which appeared in 1785: whereas, in fact, several of the plays (of that edition) were printed before that year, the work having been begun in 1782. I had also in my appendix, several years afterwards, supported this explanation by the very same instance from the Merchant of Venice, which he has quoted, without turning to his remarks. These coincidences must frequently happen where an author is elucidated by comparing him with himself. Malone. Johnson, not recollecting the force of the word leave, proposes an amendment of this passage, but that is unnecessary; for, in the language of the time, to leave means to part with, or give away. Thus, in The Merchant of Venice, Portia, speaking of the ring she gave Bassanio, says: “&lblank; and here he stands; “I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, “Or pluck it from his finger, for the wealth “That the world masters.” And Bassanio says, in a subsequent scene: “If you did know to whom I gave the ring, &c. “And how unwillingly I left the ring, “You would abate the strength of your displeasure.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 214 4She's dead, belike.] This is said in reference to what Proteus had asserted to Silvia in a former scene; viz. that both Julia and Valentine were dead. Steevens.

Note return to page 215 5To carry that, which I would have refus'd; &c.] The sense is, To go and present that which I wish to be not accepted, to praise him whom I wish to be dispraised. Johnson.

Note return to page 216 6And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I.] The colour of a part pinched, is livid, as it is commonly termed, black and blue. The weather may therefore be justly said to pinch, when it produces the same visible effect. I believe this is the reason why the cold is said to pinch. Johnson. Cleopatra says of hersef,—“Think on me, “That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black.” Steevens.

Note return to page 217 7&lblank; weep a-good,] i. e. in good earnest. Tout de bon, Fr. So, in Turberville's translation of Ovid's epistle from Ariadne to Theseus: “&lblank; beating of my breast a-good.” Steevens. So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “And therewithall their knees have rankled so, “That I have laugh'd a-good.” Again, in Turberville's Tragicall Tales, p. 98, 8vo. 1587: “Whereat she waylde and wept a-good.” Malone.

Note return to page 218 8&lblank; 'twas Ariadne, passioning For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight;] The history of this twice-deserted lady is too well known to need an introduction here; nor is the reader interrupted on the business of Shakspeare; but I find it difficult to refrain from making a note the vehicle for a conjecture which I may have no better opportunity of communicating to the publick.—The subject of a picture of Guido (commonly supposed to be Ariadne deserted by Theseus and courted by Bacchus) may possibly have been hitherto mistaken. Whoever will examine the fabulous history critically, as well as the performance itself, will acquiesce in the truth of the remark. Ovid, in his Fasti, tells us, that Bacchus (who left Ariadne to go on his Indian expedition) found too many charms in the daughter of one of the kings of that country. “Interea Liber depexos crinibus Indos   “Vincit, et Eoo dives ab orbe redit. “Inter captivas facie præstante puellas   “Grata nimis Baccho filia regis erat. “Flebat amans conjux, spatiataque littore curvo   “Edidit incultis talia verba sonis. “Quid me desertis perituram, Liber, arenis   “Servabas? potui dedoluisse semel.— “Ausus es ante oculus, adducta pellice, nostros   “Tam bene compositum sollicitare torum,” &c. Ovid, Fast. l. iii. v. 465. In this picture he appears as if just returned from India, bringing with him his new favourite, who hangs on his arm, and whose presence only causes those emotions so visible in the countenance of Ariadne, who had been hitherto represented on this occasion: “&lblank; as passioning “For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight.” From this painting a plate was engraved by Giacomo Freij, which is generally a companion to the Aurora of the same master. The print is so common, that the curious may easily satisfy themselves concerning the propriety of a remark which has intruded itself among the notes on Shakspeare. To passion is used as a verb, by writers contemporary with Shakspeare. In The Blind Beggar of Alexandria, printed 1598, we meet with the same expression: “&lblank; what, art thou passioning over the picture of Cleanthes?” Again, in Eliosto Libidinoso, a novel, by John Hinde, 1606: “&lblank; if thou gaze on a picture, thou must, with Pigmalion, be passionate.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii c. 12: “Some argument of matter passioned.“ Steevens.

Note return to page 219 9&lblank; my mistress' love so much.] She had in her preceding speech called Julia her mistress; but it is odd enough that she should thus describe herself, when she is alone. Sir T. Hanmer reads—“his mistress;” but without necessity. Our author knew that his audience considered the disguised Julia in the present scene as a page to Proteus, and this, I believe, and the love of antithesis, produced the expression. Malone.

Note return to page 220 1Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:] i. e. her hair has a tinge of yellow; mine is perfectly of a yellow colour. Auburn hair is of the colour of amber. Malone.

Note return to page 221 2I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.] It should be remembered, that false hair was worn by the ladies, long before wigs were in fashion. These false coverings, however, were called periwigs. So, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “There is a new trade come up for cast gentlewomen of perriwig-making: let your wife set up in the Strand.”—“Perwickes,” however, are mentioned by Churchyard in one of his earliest poems. Steevens. See Much Ado About Nothing, Act II. Sc. III.: “&lblank; and her hair shall be of what colour it please God.” And The Merchant of Venice, Act. III. Sc. II.: “So are those crisped snaky golden locks,” &c. Again, in The Honestie of this Age, proving by good Circumstance that the World was never honest till now, by Barnabe Rich, quarto, 1615: “My lady holdeth on her way, perhaps to the tire-maker's shop, where she shaketh her crownes, to bestowe upon some new-fashioned attire;—upon such artificial deformed periwigs, that they were fitter to furnish a theatre, or for her that in a stage play should represent some hag of hell, than to be used by a Christian woman.” Again, ibid.: “These attiremakers within these forty years were not known by that name; and but now very lately they kept their lowzie commodity of periwigs, and their monstrous attires, closed in boxes,—and those women that used to weare them would not buy them but in secret. But now they are not ashamed to set them forth upon their stalls,—such monstrous mop-powles of haire, so proportioned and deformed, that but within these twenty or thirty years would have drawne the passers-by to stand and gaze, and to wonder at them.” Malone.

Note return to page 222 3Her eyes are grey as glass;] So Chaucer, in the character of his Prioress: “Ful semely hire wimple y-pinched was; “Hire nose tretis; hire eyen grey as glas.” Theobald. So, again in Romeo and Juliet: “This be a grey eye or so.” By a grey eye was meant, what we now call a blue eye; grey, when applied to the eye, is rendered by Coles in his Dictionary, 1679, ceruleus, glaucus. Malone.

Note return to page 223 4&lblank; her forehead's low,] A high forehead was in our author's time accounted a feature eminently beautiful. So, in The History of Guy of Warwick, “Felice his lady” is said to have “the same high forehead as Venus.” Johnson. Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; with foreheads villainous low.” Malone.

Note return to page 224 5&lblank;respective &lblank;] i. e. respectful, or respectable. Steevens.

Note return to page 225 6My substance should be statue in thy stead.] It would be easy to read, with no more roughness than is found in many lines of Shakspeare: “&lblank; should be a statue in thy stead.” The sense, as Mr. Edwards observes, is, “He should have my substance as a statue, instead of thee [the picture] who art a senseless form.” This word, however, is used without the article a in Massinger's Great Duke of Florence: “&lblank; it was your beauty “That turn'd me statue.” And again, in Lord Surrey's translation of the 4th Æneid: “And Trojan statue throw into the flame.” Again, in Dryden's Don Sebastian: “&lblank; try the virtue of that Gorgon face, “To stare me into statue.” Steevens. Steevens has clearly proved that this passage requires no amendment; but it appears from hence, and a passage in Massinger, that the word statue was formerly used to express a portrait. Julia is here addressing herself to a picture; and in the City Madam, the young ladies are supposed to take leave of the statues of their lovers, as they style them, though Sir John, at the beginning of the scene, calls them pictures, and describes them afterwards as nothing but superficies, colours, and no substance. M. Mason. Statue here, I think, should be written statua, and pronounced as it generally , if not always, was in our author's time, a word of three syllables. It being the first time this word occurs, I take the opportunity of observing that alterations have been often improperly made in the text of Shakspeare, by supposing statue to be intended by him for a dissyllable. Thus, in King Richard III. Act III. Sc. VII.: “But like dumb statues or breathing stones.” Mr. Rowe has unnecessarily changed breathing to unbreathing, for a supposed defect in the metre, to an actual violation of the sense. Again, in Julius Cæsar, Act II. Sc. II.: “She dreamt to-night she saw my statue.” Here, to fill up the line, Mr. Capell adds the name of Decius, and the last editor, deserting his usual caution, has improperly changed the regulation of the whole passage. Again, in the same play, Act III. Sc. II.: “Even at the base of Pompey's statue.” In this line, however, the true mode of pronouncing the word is suggested by the last editor, who quotes a very sufficient authority for his conjecture. From authors of the times it would not be difficult to fill whole pages with instances to prove that statue was at that period a trisyllable. Many authors spell it in that manner. On so clear a point the first proof which occurs is enough. Take the following from Bacon's Advancement of Learning, 4to. 1633: “It is not possible to have the true pictures or statuaes of Cyrus, Alexander, Cæsar, no nor of the kings or great personages of much later years,” &c. p. 88. Again: “&lblank; without which the history of the world seemeth to be as the Statua of Polyphemus with his eye out,” &c. Reed. It may be observed, on this occasion, that some Latin words which were admitted into the English language, still retained their Roman pronunciation. Thus heroe and heroes are constantly used for trisyllables; as in the following instances, by Chapman: “His speare fixt by him as he slept, the great end in the ground, “The point that brisled the darke earth, cast a reflection round “Like pallid lightnings throwne from Jove. Thus this Heroe ay. “And under him a big oxe hide.” 10th Iliad. Again, in the same book: “This said, he on his shoulders cast a yellow lion's hide, “Big, and reacht earth; then took his speare; and Nestor's will applide, “Rais'd the Heroes, brought them both. All met, the round they went.” Steevens. However proper it may be to read statua in certain passages of our author, there is certainly no occasion for any such reading here, the metre being perfect as the line stands in the old copy. Malone.

Note return to page 226 7&lblank; your unseeing eyes.] So, in Macbeth: “Thou hast no speculation in these eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 227 8That Sivia, at friar Patrick's cell, should meet me.] The old copy redundantly reads—friar Patrick's cell. But the omission of this title is justified by a passage in the next scene, when the Duke says, “At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not.” Steevens. According to the doctrine here laid down, if the poet has ever added an epithet to a word, he must always use either the same or some other epithet; and has not the liberty of using the word again without any epithet at all. I have adhered to the old copy, both because the reason for departing from it appears to me to have no weight, because compositors at the press never insert words not found in the manuscript, unless when the eye glances on a word above or below, and because the metre here is just as good as many other lines in these plays, as I have shown in the essay on that subject. Malone.

Note return to page 228 9&lblank; sure enough.] Sure is save, out of danger. Johnson.

Note return to page 229 *Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loaths.] I suspect that this line should be given, as well as a subsequent one, to Julia; and was meant to be spoken aside. It is exactly in the style of her other sarcastick speeches; and Proteus, who is playing upon Thurio's credulity, would hardly represent him as an object of loathing to his mistress. Boswell.

Note return to page 230 1Black men are pearls, &c.] So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; a black complexion “Is always gracious in a woman's eye.” Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; but to make every black slovenly cloud a pearle in her eye.” Steevens. “A black man is a jewel in fair woman's eye,”—is one of Ray's proverbial sentences. Malone.

Note return to page 231 2Jul. 'Tis true, &c.] This speech, which certainly belongs to Julia, is given in the old copy to Thurio. Mr. Rowe restored it to its proper owner. Steevens.

Note return to page 232 3That they are out by lease.] I suppose he means, because Thurio's folly has let them on disadvantageous terms. Steevens. She pities Sir Thurio's possessions, because they are let to others, and are not in his own dear hands. Such appears to me to be the meaning. M. Mason. “By Thurio's possessions, he himself understands his lands and estate. But Proteus chooses to take the word likewise in a figurative sense, as signifying his mental endowments: and when he says they are out by lease, he means they are no longer enjoyed by their master, (who is a fool,) but are leased out to another.” Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens. For this explication, which is clearly just, the reader, I believe, is indebted to the late Sir David Dalrymple, Bart. usually denominated Lord Hailes. Malone.

Note return to page 233 4&lblank; sir Eglamour,] Sir, which is not in the old copy, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 234 5&lblank; a peevish girl,] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies foolish. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “To send such peevish tokens to a king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 235 6&lblank; reckless Sylvia.] i. e. careless, heedless. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; like a puff'd and reckless libertine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 236 7&lblank; record my woes.] To record anciently signified to sing. So, in The Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; O sweet, sweet! how the birds record too?” Again, in a pastoral, by N. Breton, published in England's Helicon, 1614: “Sweet Philomel, the bird that hath the heavenly throat, “Doth now, alas! not once afford recording of a note.” Again, in another Dittie, by Thomas Watson, ibid.: “Now birds record with harmonie.” Sir John Hawkins informs me, that to record is a term still used by bird-fanciers, to express the first essays of a bird in singing. Steevens.

Note return to page 237 8O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was!] It is hardly possible to point out four lines in any of the plays of Shakspeare, more remarkable for ease and elegance. Steevens. The image here presented occurs frequently in our author's works. So, in the Comedy of Errors, Act. III. Sc. II.: “Shall love in building grow so ruinate?” See the note on that passage. Malone. So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta: “And leave no memory that e'er I was.” Ritson.

Note return to page 238 9&lblank; my meed,] i. e. reward. So, in Titus Andronicus: “&lblank; thanks, to men “Of noble minds, is honourable meed.” Steevens. Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle, 1575: “O Christ! that I were sure of it! in faith he should have his mede.” So also Spencer, and almost every writer of the time. Reed.

Note return to page 239 1Whose life's as tender to me &lblank;] As dear, as much the object of tenderness and care. To tender signifies to take care of; to regard with kindness. So, in the present play, Act IV. Sc. IV. “I thank you, madam, that you tender her; “Poor gentlewoman, my master wrongs her much.” Malone.

Note return to page 240 2&lblank; and still approv'd,] Approv'd is felt, experienced. Malone.

Note return to page 241 3&lblank; that's without faith or love;] That's is perhaps here used, not for who is, but for id est, that is to say. Malone.

Note return to page 242 4Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand &lblank;] The old copy has not own; which was introduced into the text by Sir T. Hanmer. The second folio, to complete the metre, reads: “Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand—” The addition, like all those made in that copy, appears to have been merely arbitrary; and the modern word is, in my opinion, more likely to have been the author's than the other. Malone. What! “all at one fell swoop!” are they all arbitrary, when Mr. Malone has honoured so many of them with a place in his text? Being completely satisfied with the reading of the second folio, I have followed it. Steevens. Mr. Steevens has more than once endeavoured to show that I have been inconsistent in speaking of the second folio as a book of no authority, and yet adopting certain corrections from that copy. Where is the inconsistency? By arbitrary emendations, I mean conjectures made at the will and pleasure of the conjecturer, and without any authority. Such are Rowe's, Pope's, Theobald's, Hanmer's, &c.; and my assertion is, that all emendations not authorized by authentick copies, printed or manuscript, stand on the same footing, and are to be judged of by their reasonableness and probability; and, therefore, if Sir Thomas Hanmer or Dr. Warburton had proposed an hundred false conjectural emendations, and two evidently just, I should have admitted these two, and rejected all the rest. Mr. Steevens seems to have understood the word arbitrary in the sense of erroneous, a meaning which I believe no other person ever attached to it. Of the conjectural emendations made in that adulterated copy, I admitted many in my former edition, which were unquestionably made in consequence of the conjecturer's ignorance of Shakspeare's phraseology, which have been rejected in the present edition, and the readings of the authentick copy restored. Malone.

Note return to page 243 5The private wound, &c.] I have a little mended the measure. The old edition, and all but Sir Thomas Hanmer's, read: “The private wound is deepest: O time most accurs'd.” Johnson. Dr. Johnson, with a view of mending the metre, reads: The private wound is deepest: O time most curst! a reading which has been adopted by Mr. Steevens. I have adhered to the old copy, because our author has in many other places given us lines of twelve syllables, as I have shewn in the essay on his metre. Malone.

Note return to page 244 6All, that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.] It is, I think, very odd, to give up his mistress thus at once, without any reason alledged. But our author probably followed the stories just as he found them in his novels as well as histories. Pope. This passage either hath been much sophisticated, or is one great proof that the main parts of this play did not proceed from Shakspeare; for it is impossible he could make Valentine act and speak so much out of character, or give to Silvia so unnatural a behaviour, as to take no notice of this strange concession, if it had been made. Hanmer. Valentine, from seeing Silvia in the company of Proteus, might conceive she had escaped with him, from her father's court, for the purposes of love, though she could not foresee the violence which his villainy might offer, after he had seduced her under the pretence of an honest passion. If Valentine, however, be supposed to hear all that passed between them in this scene, I am afraid I have only to subscribe to the opinion of my predecessors. Steevens. “And, that my love, &c.” Transfer these two lines to the end of Thurio's speech in page 135, and all is right. Why then should Julia faint? It is only an artifice, seeing Silvia given up to Valentine, to discover herself to Proteus, by a pretended mistake of the rings. One great fault of this play is the hastening too abruptly, and without due preparation, to the denouëment, which shews that, if it be Shakspeare's, (which I cannot doubt,) it was one of his very early performances. Blackstone. Sir William Blackstone's proposal of transposing these two lines, and giving them in another distinct page, (to say nothing of the hardiness of such a mode of emendation,) is inadmissible; for the word love, which is peculiarly applicable to Valentine, who was the friend of Proteus, would in the mouth of Thurio have no meaning. Surely our author's youth is a sufficient excuse for the hasty and improbable conclusion of this comedy, without looking for any other cause whatsoever. To suppose that, because it is defective in this particular, it therefore was not the production of Shakspeare, shews but little knowledge either of our poet or the human mind. Malone.

Note return to page 245 7Why, boy! why, wag! &c.] Our author, throughout his plays, frequently introduces short prose speeches in the midst of blank verse. So here from the words—“O me, unhappy,” down to “How! let me see,” (inclusive) was evidently intended by him as prose, and exhibited in that form in the old copy. But Mr. Steevens, who throughout his later editions, by arbitrary changes, omissions, and interpolations, whenever it was possible, has forced every thing into blank verse, here reads “what is” for “what's,” and in 1793, proposed to substitute the word give for deliverer, though he was not hardy enough to make that violent change. Afterwards he suggested a different emendation, but equally unnecessary. Malone.

Note return to page 246 8&lblank; to deliver a ring to madam Silvia;] Surely our author wrote—“Deliver a ring,” &c. A verse so rugged as that in the text must be one of those corrupted by the players, or their transcriber. Steevens.

Note return to page 247 9Pro. How! let me see: &c.] I suspect that this unmetrical passage should be regulated as follows: “Pro. How! let me see it: Why, this is the ring “I gave to Julia. “Jul. Cry you mercy, sir, “I have mistook: this is the ring you sent “To Silvia. “Pro. But how cam'st thou by this? “At my depart, I gave this unto Julia.” Steevens. This rugged verse, as Steevens terms it, is printed as prose in the first folio, and such it was unquestionably intended to be. Our author's occasional intermixture of prose and verse in his scenes has been sufficiently proved already. Boswell.

Note return to page 248 1Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,] So, in Titus Andronicus, Act V. Sc. III.: “But, gentle people, give me aim a while.” Both these passages allude to the aim-crier in archery. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III. Sc. II.: “&lblank; all my neighbours shall cry aim.” See note, ibid. Steevens. Aim, I think, means in this passage the object to which all your oaths or vows were directed. Boswell.

Note return to page 249 2How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root?] Sir T. Hanmer reads—cleft the root on't. Johnson. &lblank; cleft the root? i. e. of her heart. Malone. An allusion to cleaving the pin in archery. Steevens.

Note return to page 250 3&lblank; if shame live, &c.] That is, if it be any shame to wear a disguise for the purposes of love. Johnson.

Note return to page 251 4And I mine.] Mr. Steevens, again deserting the ancient copy, reads on the suggestion of Mr. Ritson—And I have mine—and this is for the purpose of splicing this hemistich with the following words, by which the following metrical line is made out: “And I have mine.”—“A prize, a prize, a prize!” So that even the outlaws are compelled to proclaim, that they have got a booty, in blank verse. Malone.

Note return to page 252 5Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke.] This is one of the many alexandrines, or lines of twelve syllables, interspersed in these plays, of which numerous instances are given in the essay on the metre and phraseology of Shakspeare. Mr. Steevens, with his usual disregard of the ancient copies, omits the first word of this line, though the repetition is strongly confirmed by the subsequent words—“I say.” Malone.

Note return to page 253 6&lblank; the measure of my wrath:] The length of my sword, the reach of my anger. Johnson.

Note return to page 254 7Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands,] Thus the only authentick copy. Mr. Theobald, in the following note, suggested that we ought to read “Milan,” &c.; and so certainly the poet should have written. But that he did not write Milan is clear from the metre of the line; for, in that case, it would contain but nine syllables. The authour therefore must stand accountable for this, and some other errors in this youthful production. Mr. Theobald has not represented the only authentick copy correctly, for it reads—“hold thee,” not “behold thee.” By the substitution of the latter word, and changing Verona into Milan, he produced a metrical line, and this false reading appears to have escaped the notice of all his successors. It is so far from being true that all the editions before Theobald's exhibit behold, that even that of Mr. Pope, his immediate predecessor, has hold, and so I believe all the rest. Malone. “Milan shall not behold thee,” &c. All the editions—“Verona shall not behold thee;” but, whether through the mistake of the first editors, or the poet's own carelessness, this reading is absurdly faulty; for the threat here is to Thurio, who is a Milanese, and has no concern, as it appears, with Verona. Besides, the scene is between the confines of Milan and Mantua, to which Sylvia follows Valentine, having heard that he had retreated thither. And upon these circumstances I ventured to adjust the text, as I imagine the poet must have intended; i. e. Milan, thy country shall never see thee again: thou shalt never live to go back thither. Theobald.

Note return to page 255 8To make such means for her as thou hast done,] i. e. to make such interest for, to take such disingenuous pains about her. So, in King Richard III.: “One that made means to come by what he hath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 256 9And think thee worthy of an empress' love.] This thought has already occurred in the Fourth Scene of the Second Act: “He is as worthy for an empress' love.” Steevens.

Note return to page 257 1&lblank; all former griefs,] Griefs, in old language, frequently signified grievances, wrongs. Malone.

Note return to page 258 2Plead a new state &lblank;] Should not this begin a new sentence? Plead is the same as plead thou. Tyrwhitt. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's direction. Steevens.

Note return to page 259 3&lblank; we will include all jars &lblank;] Sir T. Hanmer reads conclude. Johnson. To include is to shut up, to conclude. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; and shut up “In measureless content.” Again, in Spencer's Faery Queene, b. iv. c. ix.: “And for to shut up all in friendly love.” Steevens. The two quotations show that to shut up meant to conclude; but neither of them show that to include, signified to conclude, nor had this word ever such a signification. It meant, as the etymology of the word suggests, neither to conclude, nor to shut up, but to shut in; and such is the explication of the word given in Cowdrey's Alphabetical Table of Hard English Words, 8vo. 1604: “To include, to shut in, to containe within.” All their former jars were to be shut in, (in their own bosoms, we may suppose,) and to be prevented from getting out by triumphs, masques, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 260 4With triumphs,] Triumphs, in this and many other passages of Shakspeare, signify masques and revels, &c. So, in K. Henry VI. Part III.: “With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows.” Triumphs generally included solemn processions, and hence the epithet stately in the passage just quoted. Malone.

Note return to page 261 5In this play there is a strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance, of care and negligence. The versification is often excellent, the allusions are learned and just; but the author conveys his heroes by sea from one inland town to another in the same country; he places the emperor at Milan, and sends his young men to attend him, but never mentions him more; he makes Proteus, after an interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her picture; and, if we may credit the old copies, he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. The reason of all this confusion seems to be, that he took his story from a novel, which he sometimes followed, and sometimes forsook, sometimes remembered, and sometimes forgot. That this play is rightly attributed to Shakspeare, I have little doubt. If it be taken from him, to whom shall it be given? This question may be asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus Andronicus; and it will be found more credible, that Shakspeare might sometimes sink below his highest flights, than that any other should rise up to his lowest. Johnson. Johnson's general remarks on this play are just, except that part in which he arraigns the conduct of the poet, for making Proteus say, that he had only seen the picture of Silvia, when it appears that he had had a personal interview with her. This, however, is not a blunder of Shakspeare's, but a mistake of Johnson's, who considers the passage alluded to in a more literal sense than the author intended it. Sir Proteus, it is true, had seen Silvia for a few moments; but though he could form from thence some idea of her person, he was still unacquainted with her temper, manners, and the qualities of her mind. He therefore considers himself as having seen her picture only.—The thought is just, and elegantly expressed.—So, in The Scornful Lady, the elder Loveless says to her: “I was mad once when I loved pictures; “For what are shape and colours else, but pictures?” M. Mason.

Note return to page 262 10204001Pro. O, how this spring of love resembleth, &c. pp. 31, 32. Thus much I had thought sufficient to say upon this point, in the editions of these plays published by Mr. Steevens, in 1778. Since which the Author of Remarks, &c. on that edition has been pleased to assert, p. 7, “that Shakspeare does not appear, from the above instances at least, to have taken the smallest liberty in extending his words: neither has the incident of l, or r, being subjoined to another consonant any thing to do in the matter.”—“The truth is,” he goes on to say, “that every verb in the English language gains an additional syllable by its termination in est, eth, ed, ing, or, (when formed into a substantive) in er; and the above words, when rightly printed, are not only unexceptionable, but most just. Thus resemble makes resemble-eth; wrestle, wrestleer; and settle, whistle, tickle, make settle-ed, whistle-ed, tickle-ed.” As to this supposed canon of the English language, it would be easy to show that it is quite fanciful and unfounded; and what he calls the right method of printing the above words is such as, I believe, was never adopted before by any mortal in writing them, nor can be followed in the pronunciation of them without the help of an entirely new system of spelling. But any further discussion of this matter is unnecessary; because the hypothesis, though allowed in its utmost extent, will not prove either of the points to which it is applied. It will neither prove that Shakspeare has not taken a liberty in extending certain words, nor that he has not taken that liberty chiefly with words in which l, or r, is subjoined to another consonant. The following are all instances of nouns, substantive or adjective, which can receive no support from the supposed canon. That Shakspeare has taken a liberty in extending these words is evident, from the consideration, that the same words are more frequently used, by his contemporaries and by himself, without the additional syllable. Why he has taken this liberty chiefly with words in which l, or r, is subjoined to another consonant, must be obvious to any one who can pronounce the language. Country, trisyllable. T. N. Act I. Sc. II. The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Coriol. Act I. Sc. IX. As you have been; that's for my country. Remembrance, quadrisyllable. T. N. Act I. Sc. I. And lasting in her sad remembrance. W. T. Act IV. Sc. IV. Grace and remembrance be to you both. Angry, trisyllable. Timon. Act III. Sc. V. But who is man, that is not angry. Henry, trisyllable. Rich. III. Act II. Sc. III. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth—. 2 H. VI. Act II. Sc. II. Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth. And so in many other passages. Monstrous, trisyllable. Macb. Act IV. Sc. VI. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous. Othello. Act II. Sc. III. 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began it? Assembly, quadrisyllable. M. A. A. N. Act V. Sc. last. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Douglas, trisyllable. I H. IV. Act V. Sc. II. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. England, trisyllable. Rich. II. Act IV. Sc. I. Than Bolingbrooke return to England. Humbler, trisyllable. I H. VI. Act III. Sc. I. Methinks his lordship should be humbler. Nobler, trisyllable. Coriol. Act III. Sc. II. You do the nobler. Cor. I muse my mother—. Tyrwhitt. The learned and respectable writer of these observations is now unfortunately no more; but his opinions will not on that account have less influence with the readers of Shakspeare: I am therefore still at liberty to enforce the justice and propriety of my own sentiments, which I trust I shall be found to do with all possible delicacy and respect toward the memory and character of the truly ingenious gentleman from whom I have the misfortune to differ. I humbly conceive that, upon more mature consideration, Mr. Tyrwhitt would have admitted, that, if the proposed method of printing the words in question were once proved to be right, it would be of little consequence whether the discovery had ever been “adopted before,” or could “be followed in the pronunciation of them, without the help of an entire new system of spelling:” which, in fact, is the very object I mean to contend for; or rather for a system of spelling, as I am perfectly confident we have none at present, or at least I have never been able to find it. We are not to regard the current or fashionable orthography of the day, as the result of an enquiry into the subject by men of learning and genius; but rather as the mechanical or capricious efforts of writers and printers to express by letters, according to their ear, the vulgar speech of the country, just as travelers attempt that of Chicksaws or Cherokees, without the assistance of grammar, and utterly ignorant or regardless of consistency, principle, or system. This was the case in Caxton's time, when a word was spelled almost as many different ways as it contained letters, and is no otherwise at this day; and, perhaps, the prejudices of education and habit, even in minds sufficiently expanded and vigorous on other subjects, will always prevent a reform, which it were to be wished was necessary to objects of no higher importance. Whether what I call the right method of printing these words be “such as was never adopted before by any mortal,” or not, does not seem of much consequence; for, reasoning from principle and not precedent, I am by no means anxious to avail myself of the inconsistencies of an age in which even scholars were not always agreed in the orthography of their own name; a sufficient number of instances will, however, occur in the course of this note to shew that the remark was not made with its author's usual deliberation; which I am the rather disposed to believe, from his conceiving that this method could not “be followed in pronunciation;” since were it universally adopted, pronunciation neither would nor possibly could be affected by it in any degree whatever. “Fanciful and unfounded” too as my “supposed canon” may be, I find it laid down in Ben Jonson's Grammar, which expressly says that “the second and third person singular of the present are made of the first by adding est and eth, which last is sometimes shortened into s.” And afterward, speaking of the first conjugation, he tells us that “it fetcheth the time past from the present by adding ed.” I shall have reason to think myself peculiarly unfortunate, if, after my hypothesis is “allowed in its utmost extent,” it will not prove what it was principally formed to do, viz. that Shakspeare has not taken a liberty in extending certain words to suit the purpose of his metre. But, surely, if I prove that he has only given those words as they ought to be written, I prove the whole of my position, which should cease, of course, to be termed or considered an hypothesis. A mathematical problem may, at first sight, appear “fanciful and unfounded” to the ablest mathematician, but his assent is ensured by its demonstration. I may safely admit that the words in question are “more frequently used” by our author's contemporaries, and by himself, “without the additional syllable;” as this will only shew that this contemporaries and himself have “more frequently” taken the liberty of shortening those words, than written them at length. Such a word as alarm'd, for instance, is generally, perhaps constantly, used by poets as a dissyllable; and yet, if we found it given with its full power a-larm-ed, we should scarcely say that the writer had taken the liberty of lengthening it a syllable. Thus too the word diamond is usually spoken as if two syllables, but it is certainly three, and is so properly given by Shakspeare: “Sir, I must have that diamond from you.” Hadst is now a monosyllable, but did our author therefore take a liberty in writing Hadest? “Makes ill deeds done. Hadest thou not been by.” Not only this word, but mayest, doest, doeth, and the like, are uniformly printed in the Bible as dissyllables. Does Butler, to serve his rhyme, stretch out the word brethren in the following passage? “And fierce auxiliary men, “That came to aid their brethren.” Or does he not rather give it as he found it pronounced, and as it ought to be printed? The word idly is still more to the purpose: It is at present a dissyllable; what it was in Shakspeare's time may appear from his Comedy of Errors, 1623: “God helpe poore soules how idely doe they talk:” or, indeed, from any other passage in that or the next edition, being constantly printed as a trisyllable. So, again, in Spenser's Fairy Queene, 1609, 1611: “Both staring fierce, and holding idlely.” And this orthography, which at once illustrates and supports my system, appears in Shelton's Don Quixote, Sir T. Smith's Commonwealth, Goulart's Histories, Holinshed's Chronicle, and numberless other books; and consequently proves that the word was not stretched out by Spenser to suit the purpose of his metre, though I am aware that it is misspelled idely in the first edition, which is less correctly printed. But the true and established spelling might have led Mr. Seward and Dr. Farmer to a better reading than gentily, in the following line of Beaumont and Fletcher: “For when the west wind courts her gently.” Proved, I suppose, is rarely found a dissyllable in poetry, if even pronounced as one in prose; but, in the Articles of Religion, Oxford, 1728, it is spelled and divided after my own heart: “&lblank; whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be prove-ed thereby, &c.” The words observation and affection are usually pronounced, the one as consisting of three, the other of four syllables, but each of them is in reality a syllable longer, and is so properly given by our author: “With observation, the which he vents: “Yet have I fierce affections, and think.” Examples, indeed, of this nature would be endless; I shall therefore content myself with producing one more, from the old ballad of The Children in the Wood: “You that executors be made,   “And overseers eke.” In this passage the word overseers is evidently and properly used as a quadrisyllable; and, in one black letter copy of the ballad, is accurately printed as such, overseeers; which, if Shakspeare's orthography should ever be an editor's object, may serve as a guide for the regulation of the following line: “That high all-seer that I dallied with.” Of the words quoted by Mr. Tyrwhitt, as instances of the liberty supposed to have been taken by Shakspeare, those which I admit to be properly a syllable shorter, certainly obtained the same pronunciation in the age of this author which he has annexed to them. Thus, country, monstrous, remembrance, assembly, were not only pronounced, in his time, the two first as three, the other as four syllables, but are so still; and the reason, to borrow Mr. Tyrwhitt's words, “must be obvious to every one who can pronounce the language.” Henry was not only usually pronounced, (as indeed it is at present,) but frequently written as a trisyllable; even in prose. Thus, in Dr. Hutton's Discourse on the Antiquities of Oxford, at the end of Hearne's Textus Roffensis: “King Henery the eights colledge.” See, upon this subject, Wallisii Grammatica, p. 57. That Mr. Tyrwhitt should have treated the words angry, humbler, nobler, used as trisyllables, among those which could “receive no support from the supposed canon,” must have been owing to the obscure or imperfect manner in which I attempted to explain it; as these are, unluckily, some of the identical instances which the canon, if a canon it must be, is purposely made to support, or, rather, by which it is to be supported: an additional proof that Mr. Tyrwhitt, though he might think it proper to reprobate my doctrine as “fanciful and unfounded,” did not give himself the trouble to understand it. This canon, in short, is nothing but a most plain and simple rule of English grammar, which has, in substance, at least, been repeated over and over:—Every word, compounded upon the principles of the English or Saxon language, always preserves its roots unchanged: a rule which, like all others, may be liable to exceptions, but I am aware of none at present. Thus humbler and nobler, for instance, are composed by the adjectives humble, noble, and er, the sign of the comparative degree; angry of the noun anger, and y the Saxon adjective termination i&yogh;. In the use of all these, as trisyllables, Shakspeare is most correct; and that he is no less so in England, which used to be pronounced as three syllables, and is so still, indeed, by those who do not acquire the pronunciation of their mother tongue from the books of purblind pedants, who want themselves the instruction they pretend to give, will be evident from the etymology and division of the word, the criteria or touchstones of orthography. Now, let us divide England as we please, or as we can, we shall produce neither its roots nor its meaning; for what can one make of the land of the Engs or the gland of the Ens? but write it as it ought to be written, and divide it as it ought to be divided, Engle-land, (indeed it will divide itself, for there is no other way,) and you will have the sense and derivation of the word, as well as the origin of the nation, at first sight; from the Saxon En&yogh;la landa, the land or country of the Engles or Angles: just as Scotland, Ireland, Finland, Lapland, which neither ignorance nor pedantry has been able to corrupt, design the country of the Scot, the Ire, the Fin, and the Lap: and yet, in spite of all sense and reason, about half the words in the language are in the same aukward and absurd predicament, than which nothing can be more distorted and unnatural; as, I am confident it must have appeared to Mr. Tyrwhitt, had he voluntarily turned his attention that way, or actually attempted, what he hastily thought would be very easy, to shew that this “supposed canon was quite fanciful and unfounded;” or, in short, as it will appear to any person, who tries to subject the language to the rules of syllabication, or in plainer English to spell his words; a task which, however useful, and even necessary, no Dictionary-maker has ever dared to attempt, or, at least, found it possible to execute. Indeed, the same kind of objection which Mr. Tyrwhitt has made to my system, might be, and, no doubt, has, by superficial readers, been frequently made to his own, of inserting the final syllable in the genitives Peneus's, Theseus's, Venus's, ox's, ass's, St. James's, Thomas's, Wallis's, &c. and printing, as he has done, Peneuses, Theseuses, Venuses, oxes, asses, St. Jameses, Thomases, Wallises; an innovation neither less singular, nor more just, than the one I am contending for, in the conjugation, or use in composition, of resemble, wrestle, whistle, tickle, &c. But, as I am conscious that I burn day-light, so my readers are probably of opinion that the game is not worth the candle: I shall, therefore, take the hint; and, to shew how much or little one would have occasion, in adopting my system, to deviate from the orthography at present in use, I beg leave, in the few words I add, to introduce that which, as a considerable easy and lasting improvement, I wish to see established. Tedious, then, as my note has become, and imperfect as I am obliged to leave it, I flatter myself I have completely justifyed this divineest of authors from the il-founded charge of racking his words, as the tyrant did his captives. I hope too I have, at the same time, made it appear that there is something radically defective and erroneous in the vulgar methods of speling, or rather mispeling; which requires correction. A lexicographer of eminence and abilitys wil have it very much in his power to introduce a systematical reform, which, once established, would remain unvaryed and invariable as long as the language endureed. This Dr. Johnson might have had the honour of; but, learned and eloquent as he was, I must be permitted to think that a profound knowledge of the etymology, principles, and formation of the language he undertook to explain, was not in the number of those many excellencys for which he wil be long and deserveedly admireed. Ritson.

Note return to page 263 *[Mr. Malone.]

Note return to page 264 *The preceding remarks by Mr. Ritson, and the first part of Mr. Steevens's concluding note on The Comedy of Errors, maintaining the same opinion so far as this comedy is concerned, first appeared in that gentleman's fourth edition [1793,] three years after the dissertation was published.

Note return to page 265 *Wit's Treasury, 8vo. p. 282.

Note return to page 266 1Both by the Syracusians,] Thus the first folio. The modern editors have altered it to Syracusans, but it will be a sufficient vindication of the old spelling to state, that it has the sanction of Bentley, in his Dissertation on Phalaris. Boswell.

Note return to page 267 2&lblank; by nature, not by vile offence,] Not by any criminal act, but by natural affection, which prompted me to seek my son at Ephesus. Mr. M. Mason has made a similar observation. Malone.

Note return to page 268 3&lblank; and wed &lblank;] Wed for wedded was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So, in Timon of Athens: “Which makes the wappen'd widow wed again.”

Note return to page 269 4And by me too,] Too, which is not found in the original copy, was added by the editor of the second folio, to complete the metre. Malone.

Note return to page 270 5“&lblank; till my factor's death, “And the great care of goods at random left, “Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:] Thus the old copy, except that in that copy we have—And he great care, &c. For this emendation I am answerable Perhaps there are few passages in these plays where an emendation, effected by the addition of a single letter, produces so easy and clear a sense. Mr. Steevens, however, adhered to the errour of the old copy, but changed its punctuation and adopted a parenthesis, suggested by Mr. M. Mason; in consequence of which alterations the text appears in his edition as follows: “&lblank; our wealth increas'd, “By prosperous voyages I often made “To Epidamnum, till my factor's death: “And he (great care of goods at random left) “Drew me, &c.” According to this punctuation and arrangement, the meaning is, that Ægeon carried on a successful trade till his factor's death; and then he [the dead factor] drew him away from the embracements of his wife. Malone.

Note return to page 271 *First folio, bears,

Note return to page 272 6A poor mean woman was deliver'd &lblank;] The old copy reads: “A mean woman was delivered.” The word poor was added to complete the metre in the second folio. It is manifest that some word was omitted by the compositor of the original copy; but the word supplied by the second folio can hardly be the authour's word, for in the next line but one we have— “&lblank; for their parents were exceeding poor.” However, rather than print an imperfect verse, I have admitted this clumsy emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 273 *First folio, was.

Note return to page 274 7&lblank; borne upon,] The original copy reads—borne up. The additional syllable was supplied by the reviser of the second folio, who, however, absurdly reads—borne up upon. Malone.

Note return to page 275 8Gave helpful welcome &lblank;] Old copy—healthful welcome. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. So, in K. Henry IV. P. I.: “And gave the tongue a helpful ornament.” Malone. I cannot think any change was necessary. A healthful welcome is a kind welcome, wishing health to their guests. It was not a helpful welcome, for the slowness of their bark prevented them from rendering assistance. Boswell.

Note return to page 276 9&lblank; and thee, till now.] The first copy erroneously reads— and they. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 277 1My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,] Shakspeare has here been guilty of a little forgetfulness. Ægeon had said, page 156, that the youngest son was that which his wife had taken care of: “My wife, more careful for the latter-born, “Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast.” He himself did the same by the other; and then each, fixing their eyes on whom their care was fixed, fastened themselves at either end of the mast. M. Mason.

Note return to page 278 2&lblank; so his case was like,] i. e. his case being so like that of Antipholus. The reviser of the second folio inserted for, instead of so; and this unnecessary change was adopted by all the subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 279 3&lblank; but retain'd his name,] i. e. he retained his name. Here we have another instance of what frequently occurs in these plays, the suppression of the personal pronoun. See the essay on the Phraseology of Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 280 4Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,] In the northern parts of England this word is still used instead of quite, fully, perfectly, completely. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; This is clean kam.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.” The reader will likewise find it in the 77th Psalm. Steevens. Again, in Chloris, or the Complaint of the Passionate Despised Shepheard, by W. Smith, 4to. 1596: “Yet let me rather cleane forget myselfe.” Malone.

Note return to page 281 5To seek thy help by beneficial help,] Pope and some other modern editors read—To seek thy life, &c. But the jingle, has much of Shakspeare's manner. Malone. To seek thy life, can hardly be the true reading, for, in ancient language, it signifies, a base endeavour to take life away. Thus, Antonio says of Shylock: “He seeks my life.” I believe, therefore, the word—help, was accidentally repeated by the compositor, and that our author wrote,— “To seek thy help by beneficial means. Steevens. This emendation seems to have been proposed on a principle which Mr. Steevens seems to have adopted, that we are at liberty to substitute any one word for another. Malone.

Note return to page 282 6&lblank; If no,] Thus the old copy. The reviser of the second folio substituted not for no. But it appears from other passages that no was sometimes used with the sense of not. So, in the common language—Say whether you will or no? Again, in Measure for Measure: “Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow, or no?”

Note return to page 283 7&lblank; wend,] i. e. go. An obsolete word. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “And back to Athens shall the lovers wend.” Steevens.

Note return to page 284 *First, folio, liveless.

Note return to page 285 8&lblank; ere the weary sun set in the west.] So, in King John: “&lblank; the feeble and day-wearied sun.” Again, in King Richard III.: “The weary sun hath made a golden set.” Steevens.

Note return to page 286 9A trusty villain,] A faithful bondman or slave. By these appellations, each Antipholus throughout this comedy denominates the Dromio attached to him. So, in The Rape of Lucrece, where a Roman slave is mentioned: “The homely villain curt'sies to her low.” Malone.

Note return to page 287 1&lblank; Soon at five o'clock,] As these words have been pointed hitherto, with a comma after the word soon, they must mean that the Merchant would meet Antipholus soon, namely, at five o'clock; but the present hour is about eleven, for the dinner hour was twelve; and five o'clock would not be soon, reckoning from eleven, or even from twelve. But the Merchant, I conceive, means that he will meet his friend in the evening, nearly at five o'clock; either a little before or soon after that hour. I therefore placed no stop after the word soon; following, in this respect the original copy, of which the punctuation, though it has been so much depretiated, in all doubtful cases stands for somewhat. Malone.

Note return to page 288 2And afterwards consort you till bed-time;] We should read, I believe, “And afterwards consort with you till bed-time.” So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo.” Malone. There is no need of emendation. The old reading is supported by the following passage in Love's Labour's Lost, Act II. Sc. I “Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here &lblank;.” Steevens. The emphasis must, according to this reading, be laid not on bed, but time, which will preserve the metre. Boswell.

Note return to page 289 3&lblank; confounds himself:] To confound, in old language, signifies to destroy. So, in Coriolanus: “How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, “And bring thy news so late.” Malone.

Note return to page 290 4Here comes the almanack of my true date.—] He thus denominates Dromio, because they were both born in the same hour, and therefore the date of Dromio's birth ascertains that of his master. Malone.

Note return to page 291 5Are penitent &lblank;] Penitent seems here to be used in a double sense, and may either mean that they are sorry for their master's default, because they are obliged to fast; or that they are sufferers by it, being obliged by his conduct, like penitents, to fast and pray. Malone.

Note return to page 292 6&lblank; I shall be post indeed; For she will score your fault upon my pate.] Perhaps, before writing was a general accomplishment, a kind of rough reckoning concerning wares issued out of a shop was kept by chalk or notches on a post, till it could be entered on the books of a trader. So Kitely the merchant making his jealous enquiries concerning the familiarities used to his wife, Cob answers: “&lblank; if I saw any body to be kiss'd, unless they would have kiss'd the post in the middle of the warehouse, &c.” Steevens. So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “Host. Out of my doors, knave, thou enterest not my doors; I have no chalk in my house; my posts shall not be guarded with a little sing-song.” Malone.

Note return to page 293 7&lblank; your clock.] The old copy reads your cook. Mr. Pope made the change, which is fully supported by the subsequent words. Malone. So, in Plautus: “&lblank; me puero uterus erat solarium.” See Aul. Gell. l. iii. c. iii. Steevens.

Note return to page 294 8In what safe place you have bestow'd my money;] i. e. stowed or lodged it. The word in this sense is now obsolete. Malone.

Note return to page 295 9&lblank; that merry sconce &lblank;] Sconce is head. So, in Hamlet, Act. V.; “Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce?” Again, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “&lblank; I say no more, “But 'tis within this sconce to go beyond them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 296 * First folio, o'erwrought.

Note return to page 297 1&lblank; o'er-raught &lblank;] That is, over-reached. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; certain players “We o'er-raught on the way.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. 3: “Having by chance a close advantage view'd, “He over-raught him,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 2They say, this town is full of cozenage;] This was the character the ancients give of it. Hence &GREs;&grf;&gre;&grs;&gri;&gra; &grasa;&grl;&gre;&grc;&gri;&grf;&gra;&grr;&grm;&gra;&grk;&gra; was proverbial amongst them. Thus Menander uses it, and &GREs;&grf;&gre;&grs;&gri;&gra; &grg;&grr;&graa;&grm;&grm;&gra;&grt;&gra; in the same sense. Warburton.

Note return to page 299 3As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind, Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;] Those, who attentively consider these three lines, must confess, that the poet intended the epithet given to each of these miscreants, should declare the power by which they perform their feats, and which would therefore be a just characteristick of each of them. Thus, by nimble jugglers, we are taught, that they perform their tricks by slight of hand; and by soul-killing witches, we are informed, the mischief they do is by the assistance of the devil, to whom they have given their souls: but then, by dark-working sorcerers, we are not instructed in the means by which they perform their ends. Besides, this epithet agrees as well to witches as to them; and therefore certainly our author could not design this in their characteristick. We should read: “Drug-working sorcerers, that change the mind,” and we know, by the history of ancient and modern superstition, that these kind of jugglers always pretended to work changes of the mind by these applications. Warburton. The learned commentator has endeavoured with much, earnestness to recommend his alteration; but, if I may judge of other apprehensions by my own, without great success. This interpretation of soul-killing is forced and harsh. Sir T. Hanmer reads soul-selling, agreeable enough to the common opinion, but without such improvement as may justify the change. Perhaps the epithets have only been misplaced, and the lines should be read thus: “Soul-killing sorcerers, that change the mind, “Dark-working witches, that deform the body.” This change seems to remove all difficulties. By soul-killing I understand destroying the rational faculties by such means as make men fancy themselves beasts. Johnson. Dark-working sorcerers, may only mean sorcerers who carry on their operations in the dark. Thus, says Bolingbroke, in The Second Part of King Henry VI.: “&lblank; wizards know their times: “Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,” &c. Witches themselves, as well as those who employed them, were supposed to forfeit their souls by making use of a forbidden agency. In that sense they may be said to destroy the souls of others as well as their own. Hence, Sidney, in his Astrophel and Stella: “No witchcraft is so evill, as which man's minde destroyeth.” The same compound epithet occurs in Christopher Middleton's Legend of Humphrey Duke of Glocester, 1600: “They charge her, that she did maintaine and feede “Soul-killing witches, and convers'd with devils.” The hint for this enumeration of cheats, &c. Shakspeare might have received from the old translation of the Menæchmi, 1595; “For this assure yourselfe, this towne Epidamnum is a place of outrageous expences, exceeding in all ryot and lasciviousnesse; and (I heare) as full of ribaulds, parasites, drunkards, catch-poles, cony-catchers, and sycophants, as it can hold: then for curtizans,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 300 4&lblank; liberties of sin:] Sir T. Hanmer reads, libertines, which, as the author has been enumerating not acts but persons, seems right. Johnson. By liberties of sin, I believe Shakspeare meant licensed offenders, such as mountebanks, fortune tellers, &c. who cheat with impunity. Thus, says Ascham: “I was once in Italie myself, but I thank God my abode there was but nine days; and yet I saw in that little tyme in one citie, [Venice,] more libertie to sinne, than ever I yet heard tell of in London in nine years.” Steevens. By liberties of sin, I understand, not licensed offenders, but licentious actions; sinful liberties. Malone.

Note return to page 301 5&lblank; ill.] This word, which the rhyme seems to countenance, was furnished by the editor of the second folio. The first has—thus. Malone.

Note return to page 302 6Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled so. Luc. Why, head-strong liberty is lash'd with woe.] Should it not rather be leash'd i. e, coupled like a headstrong hound? The high opinion I must necessarily entertain of the learned lady's judgment, who furnished this observation, has taught me to be diffident of my own, which I am now to offer. The meaning of this passage may be, that those who refuse the bridle must bear the lash, and that woe is the punishment of headstrong liberty. It may be observed, however, that the seamen still use lash in the same sense as leash; as does Greene, in his Mamillia, 1593: “Thou didst counsel me to beware of love, and I was before in the lash.” Again, in George Whetstone's Castle of Delight, 1576: “Yet both in lashe at length this Cressid leaves.” Lace was the old English word for a cord, from which verbs have been derived very differently modelled by the chances of pronunciation. So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “To thee Cassandra which dost hold my freedom in a lace.” When the mariner, however, lashes his guns, the sportsman leashes his dogs, the female laces her clothes, they all perform one act of fastening with a lace or cord. Of the same original is the word windlass, or more properly windlace, an engine, by which a lace or cord is wound upon a barrel. To lace likewise signified to bestow correction with a cord, or rope's end. So, in the Second Part of Decker's Honest Whore, 1630: “&lblank; the lazy lowne “Gets here hard hands, or lac'd correction.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “So, now my back has room to reach; I do not love to be laced in, when I go to lace a rascal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 303 7Are their males' subjects,] So the original copy; for which Mr. Steevens and the other modern editors have given us—subject. I had also fallen into the same errour; which was obligingly pointed out to me by Mr. James Boaden. Malone.

Note return to page 304 8Men &lblank; the masters, &c.] The old has man—the master, &c. and in the next line—lord. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 305 9&lblank; start some other where?] I cannot but think, that our author wrote: “&lblank; start some other hare?” So, in Much Ado About Nothing, Cupid is said to be a good hare-finder. Johnson. I suspect that where has here the power of a noun. So, in King Lear: “Thou losest here, a better where to find.” Again, in Tho. Drant's translation of Horace's Satires, 1567: “&lblank; they ranged in eatche where, “No spousailes knowne,” &c. The sense is,—How, if your husband fly off in pursuit of some other woman? The expression is used again, Scene III.: “&lblank; his eye doth homage otherwhere.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, Act I.: “This is not Romeo, he's some otherwhere.” Otherwhere signifies—in other places. So, in King Henry VIII. Act II. Sc. II.: “The king hath sent me otherwhere.” Again, in Chapman's version of the Second Book of Homer's Odyssey: “For we will never go, where lies our good, “Nor any other where; till.” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 306 1&lblank; she pause;] To pause is to rest, to be in quiet. Johnson.

Note return to page 307 2They can be meek, that have no other cause.] That is, who have no cause to be otherwise. M. Mason.

Note return to page 308 3A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet, &c.] Shakspeare has the same sentiment, in Much Ado About Nothing, where Leonato says— “&lblank; men “Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief “Which they themselves not feel.” And again: “&lblank; 'tis all men's office to speak patience “To those that wring under the load of sorrow.” Douce.

Note return to page 309 4With urging helpless patience &lblank;] By exhorting me to patience, which affords no help. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “As those poor birds that helpless berries saw.” Malone.

Note return to page 310 5&lblank; fool-begg'd &lblank;] She seems to mean by fool-begg'd patience, that patience which is so near to idiotical simplicity, that your next realtion would take advantage from it to represent you as a fool, and beg the guardianship of your fortune. Johnson.

Note return to page 311 6&lblank; that I could scarce understand them.] i. e. that I could scarce stand under them. This quibble, poor as it is, seems to have been the favourite of Shakspeare. It has been already introduced in the Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; my staff understands me” Steevens.

Note return to page 312 7&lblank; a thousand marks in gold: &lblank;] The old copy reads—a hundred marks. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 313 8Will you come home, quoth I?] The word home, which the metre requires, but is not in the authentick copy of this play, was suggested by Mr. Capell. Malone.

Note return to page 314 9I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!] We have a no less unmetrical line in the former act: “Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day.” Mr. Steevens, however, has not noticed it; but with his usual attention to metrical smoothness, he here proposes to re-write this line thus: “I know no mistress; out upon thy mistress.” So we are to suppose that in the same line the transcriber wrote, or the compositor printed, not thy for no, and on for upon! Malone.

Note return to page 315 1Am I so round with you, as you with me,] He plays upon the word round, which signified spherical applied to himself and unrestrained, or free in speech, or action, spoken of his mistress. So the King, in Hamlet, bids the Queen be round with her son. Johnson.

Note return to page 316 2&lblank; case me in leather.] Still alluding to a football, the bladder of which is always covered with leather. Steevens.

Note return to page 317 3Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.] So, in our poet's 47th Sonnet: “When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,” p. 149: Again, in his 75th Sonnet: “Sometimes all full with feeding on his sight. “And by and by clean starved for a look.” Malone.

Note return to page 318 4Of my defeatures:] By defeatures is here meant alteration of features. At the end of this play, the same word is used with a somewhat different signification. Steevens. Mr. Steeven's interpretation would have been more correct if he had written alteration of features for the worse. My defeatures certainly means my defect of beauty, my ill looks. So, in our poet's Venus and Adonis: “To mingle beauty with infirmity, “And pure perfection with impure defeature.” Malone.

Note return to page 319 5&lblank; My decayed fair &lblank;] Shakspeare uses the adjective gilt, as a substantive, for what is gilt, and in this instance fair for fairness. &grT;&grog; &grm;&gro;&gru; &grk;&gra;&grl;&grog;&grn;, is a similar expression. In A Midsummer-Night's Dream, the old quartos read: “Demetrius loves your fair.” Again, in Shakspeare's 68th Sonnet: “Before these bastard signs of fair were born.” Again, in his 83d Sonnet: “And therefore to your fair no painting set.” Pure is likewise used as a substantive in The Shepherd to the Flowers, a song in England's Helicon, 1614: “Do pluck your pure, ere Phœbus view the land.” Steevens. Fair is frequently used substantively by the writers of Shakspeare's time. So, Marston, in one of his Satires: “As the greene meads, whose native outward faire “Breathes sweet perfumes into the neighbour air.” Farmer.

Note return to page 320 6But, too unruly deer,] The ambiguity of deer and dear is. borrowed, poor as it is, by Waller, in his poem on a lady's Girdle: “This was my heaven's extremest sphere, “The pale that held my lovely deer.” Johnson. Shakspeare has played upon this word in the same manner in his Venus and Adonis: “Fondling, saith she, since I have hemm'd thee here,   “Within the circuit of this ivory pale, “I'll be thy park, and thou shalt be my deer;   “Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or on dale.” The lines of Waller seem to have been immediately copied from these. Malone.

Note return to page 321 7&lblank; poor I am but his stale.] The word stale, in our author, used as a substantive, means not something offered to allure or attract, but something vitiated with use, something of which the best part has been enjoyed and consumed. Johnson. I believe my learned coadjutor mistakes the use of the word stale on this occasion. “Stale to catch these thieves,” in The Tempest, undoubtedly means a fraudulent bait. Here it seems to imply the same as stalking-horse, pretence. I am, says Adriana, but his pretended wife, the mask under which he covers his amours. So, in the King John and Matilda, by Robert Davenport, 1655, the queen says to Matilda: “&lblank; I am made your stale, “The king, the king your strumpet,” &c. Again: “&lblank; I knew I was made “A stale for her obtaining.” Again, in The Misfortunes of Arthur, 1587: “Was I then chose and wedded for his stale, “To looke and gape for his retireless sayles “Puft back and flittering spread to every winde? Again, in the old translation of the Menæchmi of Plautus, 1595, from whence, perhaps, Shakspeare borrowed the expression: “He makes me a stale and a laughing-stock.” Steevens. Adriana unquestionably means to compare herself to a stalking-horse, formerly denominated a stale, behind whom Antipholus shoots at such game as he selects. So, in Greene's Groat's Worth of Wit, signat. D 2: “Suppose, (to make you my stale to catch the woodcocke, your brother,) &c.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Catiline: “&lblank; dull stupid Lentulus, “My stale, with whom I stalk.” Malone. In Greene's Art of Coney-catching, 1592, a stale is the confederate of a thief; “he that faceth the man,” or holds him in discourse. Again, in another place, “wishing all, of what estate soever, to beware of filthy lust, and such damnable stales,” &c. A stale, in this last instance, means the pretended wife of a cross-biter. Perhaps, however, stale may have here the same meaning as the French word chaperon. Poor I am but the cover for his infidelity. Collins.

Note return to page 322 8Would that alone alone he would detain,] In the first copy (u) being inserted for (n,) we have— “Would that alone a loue,” &c. This obvious error was corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 323 9I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold: and no man, that hath a name, But falshood and corruption doth it shame:] The sense is this: “Gold, indeed, will long bear the handling; however, often touching will wear even gold: just so the greatest character, though as pure as gold itself, may, in time, be injured by the repeated attacks of falshood and corruption.” Warburton. Mr. Heath reads thus— “&lblank; yet the gold 'bides still, “That others touch, though often touching will “Wear gold: and so a man that hath a name, “By falshood and corruption doth it shame.” Steevens. This passage in the original copy is very corrupt. It reads— “I see the jewel best enameled, “Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still “That others touch; and often touching will “Where gold; and no man, that hath a name “By falshood, &c.” The word though [and though] was suggested by Mr. Steevens; all the other emendations by Mr. Pope Mr. Pope and Dr. Warburton Wear is used as a dissyllable. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Metre. The commentator last mentioned, not perceiving this, reads—and so no man, &c. which has been followed, I think improperly, by the subsequent editors, including Mr. Steevens. In the quarto copy of Troïlus and Cressida, 1609, we have were printed for “wear this colour.” Turberville in his Songes and Sonets, p. 76, 8vo. 1567, has, like our author, used wear as a neutral verb, without any accompanying word (as away, off, &c.), of which usage Dr. Johnson has given no example in his dictionary: “That welth assigned is to waste away,   “And stately pompe to vanish and decrease, “That worship weares, and worldly wights decay,   “And fortune's gifts, though nere so brave do cease, “May well appeare,” &c. The observation concerning gold is found in one of the early dramatick pieces, Damon and Pithias, 1582: “&lblank; gold in time does wear away, “And other precious things do fade: friendship does ne'er decay.” Malone.

Note return to page 324 1And make a common of my serious hours.] i. e. intrude on them when you please. The allusion is to those tracts of ground destined to common use, which are thence called commons. Steevens.

Note return to page 325 2&lblank; know my aspéct,] Study my countenance. Steevens.

Note return to page 326 3&lblank; and insconce it too;] A sconce was a petty fortification. So, in Orlando Furioso, 1509: “Let us to our sconce, and you my lord of Mexico.” Again: “Ay, sirs, ensconce you how you can.” Again: “And here ensconce myself, despite of thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 327 4&lblank; next,] Our author probably wrote—next time. Malone.

Note return to page 328 5Lest it make you cholerick, &c.] So, in the Taming of the Shrew: “I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dry'd away, “And I expressly am forbid to touch it, “For it engenders choler, planteth anger, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 329 6&lblank; by fine and recovery?] This attempt at pleasantry must have originated from our author's clerkship to an attorney. He has other jokes of the same school. Steevens.

Note return to page 330 7Ant. S. Why is Time, &c.] In former editions: “Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? “Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted them in hair, he hath given them in wit.” Surely, this is mock-reasoning, and a contradiction in sense. Can hair be supposed a blessing, which Time bestows on beasts peculiarly; and yet that he hath scanted them of it too? Men and them, I observe, are very frequently mistaken, vice versa, for each other, in the old impressions of our author. Theobald. The same error is found in the Induction to King Henry IV. Part II. edit. 1623: “Stuffing the ears of them with false reports.” And vice versa, we have in Hamlet, I think, men printed for them in the following passage: “&lblank; that I thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well,” &c. where it is manifest that we ought to read “&lblank; some of Nature's journeymen had made them, and not made them well,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 331 8&lblank; there's many a man hath more hair than wit.] “More hair than wit,” is a proverbial sentence; of which the following lines “upon [Suckling's] Aglaura, printed in folio,” may serve to illustrate: “This great voluminous pamphlet may be said, “To be like one who hath more haire than head; “More excrement than body:—trees, which sprout “With broadest leaves, have still the smallest fruit.” Parnassus Bisceps, 8vo. 1656. Malone.

Note return to page 332 9Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair.] That is, Those who have more hair than wit, are easily entrapped by loose women, and suffer the consequences of lewdness, one of which, in the first appearance of the disease in Europe, was the loss of hair. Johnson. So, in the Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; Your women are so hot, I must lose my hair in their company, I see.”—“His hair sheds off, and yet he speaks not so much in the nose as he did before.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 1&lblank; falsing.] This word is now obsolete. Spenser and Chaucer often use the verb to false. Mr. Heath would read falling. Steevens.

Note return to page 334 2&lblank; that he spends in tiring;] The old copy reads—in trying. This very happy correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 335 3&lblank; there is no time &lblank;] In some copies of the original and authentick edition of this copy, the letter (t) in there had dropped out: in one of my copies it is almost visible; accordingly it was restored in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 336 4&lblank; namely, e'en no time &lblank;] The authentick copy, 1623, reads—“namely, in no time, &c.” The same error is found in All's Well that Ends Well, Act I. Sc. I. where we have “in my great friends,” instead of “e'en my great friends.” The reviser of the second folio corrected the errour by omitting in. Malone.

Note return to page 337 5&lblank; wafts us &lblank;] i. e. beckons us. So, in Hamlet: “It wafts me still:—go on, I'll follow thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 338 6That never words were musick to thine ear,] Imitated by Pope in his Epistle from Sappho to Phaon: “My musick then you could for ever hear, “And all my words were musick to your ear.” An earlier dramatist than Shakspeare has the same image. See Soliman and Perseda: &lblank; Her words are musick, “The self-same musick that in ancient days “Brought Alexander from war to banquetting.” Malone.

Note return to page 339 7&lblank; may'st thou fall &lblank;] Fall is here a verb active. So, in Othello: “Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 340 8And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow,] The authentick copy has—the stain'd skin of my harlot-brow; but as, in former times, off was generally written of, it is not easy here to determine which of the two words was intended by the poet; each affording good sense. However, I have in the text followed Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 341 9I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:] Both the integrity of the metaphor, and the word blot, in the preceding line, show that we should read— “&lblank; with the grime of lust:” i. e. the stain, smut. So, again, in this play,—“A man may go over his shoes in the grime of it.” Warburton.

Note return to page 342 1Being strumpeted &lblank;] Shakspeare is not singular in his use of this verb. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “By this adultress basely strumpeted.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 2I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured.] To distain (from the French word, destaindre) signifies to stain, defile, pollute. But the context requires a sense quite opposite. We must either read, unstain'd; or, by adding an hyphen, and giving the preposition a privative force, read dis-stain'd; and then it will mean, unstain'd, undefiled. Theobald. I would read: “I live distained, thou dishonoured.” That is, As long as thou continuest to dishonour thyself, I also live distained. Heath.

Note return to page 344 *First folio, wants.

Note return to page 345 3&lblank; you are from me exempt,] Exempt, separated, parted. The sense is, If I am doomed to suffer the wrong of separation, yet injure not with contempt me who am already injured. Johnson. Johnson says that exempt means separated, parted; and the use of the word in that sense may be supported by a passage in Beaumont and Fletcher's Triumph of Honour, where Valerius, in the character of Mercury, says— “To shew rash vows cannot bind destiny, “Lady, behold the rocks transported be. “Hard-hearted Dorigen! yield, lest for contempt “They fix you there a rock, whence they're exempt.” Yet I think that Adriana does not use the word exempt in that sense, but means to say, that as he was her husband she had no power over him, and that he was privileged to do her wrong. M. Mason. Exempt, as defined by Bullokar in his English Expositor, 8vo. 1616, “free or privileged from any payment of service;” but this is the forensick, not the colloquial sense of the word: and therefore I think, with Dr. Johnson, that it is used by Shakspeare in the sense of separated or parted; which appears to have been the usual meaning of the word in his time. So, in a letter written by the Earl of Nottingham, in 1600, in favour of Edward Alleyn: “Forasmuche as he hath bestowed a grate some of money not onelie for the title of a plott of grounde, scituate in a verie remote and exempte place, neere Goulding lane,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 346 “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 347 4But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.] So, in the Rape of Lucrece: “To wrong the wronger till he render right.” Adriana means to say—Add not another wrong to that which I suffer already; do not both desert and despise me. Malone.

Note return to page 348 5Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;] “Lenta, qui, velut assitas “Vitis implicat arbores, “Implicabitur in tuum “Complexum.” Catul. 57. So Milton, Par. Lost, b. v.: “&lblank; they led the vine “To wed her elm. She spous'd, about him twines “Her marriageable arms.” Malone. Thus, in Ovid's tale of Vertumnus and Pomona: “Ulmus erat contra, spatiosa tumentibus uvis: “Quam socia postquam pariter cum vite probavit; “At si staret, ait, cœlebs, sine palmite truncus, “Nil præter frondes, quare peteretur, haberet. “Hæc quoque, quæ juncta vitis requiescit in ulmo, “Si non nupta foret, terræ acclinata jaceret.” Steevens.

Note return to page 349 6&lblank; stronger state,] The old copy has—stranger. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 350 7Usurping ivy, briar, &c.] The word briar here, as in many other places, is employed as a monosyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 351 8&lblank; idle moss:] Moss that produces no fruit. So, in Othello: “&lblank; antres vast, and desarts idle. Steevens.

Note return to page 352 9&lblank; the offer'd fallacy.] The old copy has— “&lblank; the free'd fallacy.” Which perhaps was only, by mistake, for— “&lblank; the offer'd fallacy.” This conjecture is from an anonymous correspondent. Mr. Pope reads—favour'd fallacy. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 1We talk with goblins, owls and elvish sprights;] Here Mr. Theobald calls out, in the name of Nonsense, the first time he had formally invoked her, to tell him how owls could suck their breath, and pinch them black and blue. He therefore alters owls to ouphes, and dares say, that his readers will acquiesce in the justness of his emendation. But, for all this, we must not part with the old reading. He did not know it to be an old popular superstition, that the screech-owl sucked out the breath and blood of infants in the cradle. On this account, the Italians called witches, who were supposed to be in like manner mischievously bent against children, strega from strix, the screech-owl. This superstition they had derived from their pagan ancestors, as appears from this passage of Ovid: “Sunt avidæ volucres; non quæ Phineïa mensis   “Guttura fraudabant; sed genus inde trahunt. “Grande caput; stantes oculi; rostra apta rapinæ   “Canities pennis, unguibus hamus inest. “Nocte volant, puerosque petunt nutricis egentes,   “Et vitiant cunis corpora rapta suis. “Carpere dicuntur luctantia viscera rostris,   “Et plenum poto sanguine guttur habent. “Est illis strigibus nomen: &lblank;” Fast. lib. vi. Warburton. “Ghastly owls accompany elvish ghosts,” in Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar for June. So, in Sheringham's Disceptatio de Anglorum Gentis Origine, p. 333: “Lares, Lemures, Stryges, Lamiæ, Manes (Gastæ dicti) et similes monstrorum Greges, Elvarum Chorea dicebatur.” Much the same is said in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, p. 112, 113. Tollet. Owls are also mentioned in Cornucopiæ, or Pasquil's Night-cap, or Antidote for the Headach, 1623, p. 38: “Dreading no dangers of the darksome night, No oules, hobgoblins, ghosts, nor water-spright.” Steevens. Owls was changed by Mr. Theobald into ouphes; and how, it is objected, should Shakspeare know that striges or screech-owls were considered by the Romans as witches? The notes of Mr. Tollet and Mr. Steevens, as well as the following passage in the London Prodigal, a comedy, 1605, afford the best answer to this question: “Soul, I think, I am sure cross'd or witch'd with an owl.” Again, in A Fig for Fortune, by A. C. [i. e. Antony Copley] 4to. 1596, p. 63: “There was no savage shape or larval hue, “No bug, no bale, nor horrid owlerie, “But all that there was, was sincere and true,” &c. Malone. The epithet elvish is not in the first folio, but the second has— elves, which certainly was meant for elvish. Steevens. All the emendations made in the second folio having been merely arbitrary, any other suitable epithet of two syllables may have been the poet's word, Mr. Rowe first introduced—elvish. Malone. I am satisfied with the epithet—elvish. It was probably inserted in the second folio on some authority which cannot now be ascertained. It occurs again, in King Richard III.: “Thou elvish-mark'd abortive, rooting hog.” Why should a book, which has often judiciously filled such vacuities, and rectified such errors, as disgrace the folio 1623, be so perpetually distrusted? Steevens. This is certainly no proper place for discussing the demerits of that adulterate copy of our author's plays. I have elsewhere shewn that the person who revised it was equally unacquainted with Shakspeare's language and metre; and, in consequence of that ignorance, almost every page of that book abounds in the grossest corruptions. To talk of his having authority for his innovations (I suppose we are to understand manuscript authority) is very idle. I have proved that he never looked into the printed quarto copies. Can it then be imagined that he would take the trouble of searching for manuscripts? and if he were so inclined, where would he find them? Malone.

Note return to page 354 2Dromio, thou drone, &c.] The old copy reads— “Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!” Steevens. This verse is half a foot too long; my correction cures that fault: besides, drone corresponds with the other appellations of reproach. Theobald. Drone is also a term of reproach, applied by Shylock to Launcelot, in the Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; he sleeps by day “More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 355 3&lblank; am not I?] Old copy—am I not. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 356 4And shrive you &lblank;] That is, I will call you to confession, and make you tell your tricks. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; no shriving time allow'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 357 [5] Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all;] I suppose, the word—all, which overloads the measure, without improvement of the sense, might be safely omitted, as an interpolation. Steevens. The line which Steevens objects to is an alexandrine. See Essay on Shakspeare's Metre. Boswell.

Note return to page 358 6&lblank; carkanet,] Seems to have been a necklace, or rather chain, perhaps hanging down double from the neck. So, Lovelace, in his poem: “The empress spreads her carkanets.” Johnson. “Quarquan, ornement d'or qu'on mit au col des damoiselles.” Le Grand Dict. de Nicot. A carkanet seems to have been a necklace set with stones, or strung with pearls. Thus, in Partheneia Sacra, &c. 1633: “Seeke not vermillion or ceruse in the face, bracelets of oriental pearls on the wrist, rubie carkanets on the neck, and a most exquisite fan of feathers in the hand.” Again, in Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610: “Nay, I'll be matchless for a carkanet, “Whose pearls and diamonds plac'd with ruby rocks “Shall circle this fair neck to set it forth.” Again, in Sir W. D'Avenant's comedy of The Witts, 1636: “&lblank; she sat on a rich Persian quilt “Threading a carkanet of pure round pearl “Bigger than pigeons eggs.” Again, in The Changes, or Love in a Maze, 1632: “&lblank; the drops “Shew like a carkanet of pearl upon it.” In the play of Soliman and Perseda, 1599, the word carkanet occurs eight or nine times. Steevens. See Cotgrave's Dict. 1611, in v. carcan: “A carkanet or collar of gold, &c. worne about the neck.” So, also Coles, who in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders carkanet by monile. Malone. Angelo, in a subsequent scene, expressly calls it a chain.

Note return to page 359 7Marry so, it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.] Thus all the printed copies; but, certainly, this is cross-purposes in reasoning. It appears, Dromio is an ass by his making no resistance; because an ass, being kicked, kicks again. Our author never argues at this wild rate, where his text is genuine. Theobald. Mr. Theobald, instead of doth, reads—don't. Malone. I do not think this emendation necessary. He first says, that his wrongs and blows prove him an ass; but immediately, with a correction of his former sentiment, such as may be hourly observed in conversation, he observes that, if he had been an ass, he should, when he was kicked, have kicked again. Johnson.

Note return to page 360 8Mome,] A dull stupid blockhead, a stock, a post. This owes its original to the French word Momon, which signifies the gaming at dice in masquerade, the custom and rule of which is, that a strict silence is to be observed: whatever sum one stakes, another covers, but not a word is to be spoken: from hence also comes our word mum! for silence. Hawkins. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Important are th' affairs we have in hand; “Hence with that Mome!” “&lblank; Brutus, forbear the presence.” Steevens. Sir J. Hawkins would derive mome from the French momon, the challenge at dice made by a mummer or silent person in masquerade. It more probably came to us from one of those similar words that are found in many languages signifying something foolish. Momar is used by Plautus for a fool, whence the French mommeur. The Greeks too had &grm;&gro;&grm;&gro;&grst; and &grm;&gro;&grr;&grm;&gro;&grst; in the same sense. Douce.

Note return to page 361 9&lblank; patch!] i. e. fool. Alluding to the parti-coloured coats worn by the licensed fools or jesters of the age. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; what soldiers, patch?” See notes on A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act III. Sc. II. and The Merchant of Venice, Act. I. Sc. I. Steevens. Patch may perhaps, in the present instance, mean fool, though it is doubtful; but in the three instances referred to by Mr. Steevens —that in Macbeth; “a crew of patches,” in A Midsummer-Night's Dream; and “the patch is kind enough,” in The Merchant of Venice: the word certainly is a contemptuous designation of a mean man, who is sometimes obliged to wear a patched coat So below: “What patch is made our porter?” Malone.

Note return to page 362 1&lblank; I owe?] i. e. I own, am master of. So, in The Four Prentices of London, 1615: “Who owes that shield? “I,—and who owes that?” Steevens.

Note return to page 363 2I hope?] A line following this has, I believe, been lost, in which the speaker threatened Luce with the corporal correction of a rope, which might have furnished the rhyme now wanting. In a subsequent scene he puts the threat which I imagine was made here into execution, by ordering Dromio to go and buy a rope's-end, adding “&lblank; that will I bestow, “Among my wife and her confederates.” Mr. Theobald, and all the subsequent editors, read, without any authority, I trow; for the purpose of making out a triplet: but that word and hope were not likely to be confounded by either a transcriber or a compositor. Malone. The text, I believe, is right, “I expect you'll let us in.” To hope in ancient language has sometimes that signification. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I cannot hope, “Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together.” Again, in Chaucer's River Tale, v. 4027: “Our manciple, I hope, he will be dead.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens seems not to have observed the force of the remark which he intended to refute. He, like another editor, was contented with the corrupted reading trow, till the true one was pointed out, to which he now wishes to affix a possible but an uncommon meaning. To this I have no objection; though the word hope may here very well be understood in its ordinary signification. But my remark was, that a line was probably lost; and this remark was manifestly founded on the circumstance, that hope had here no corresponding rhyme, and that all the rest of this dialogue is in rhyme. Whatever therefore may be the meaning of the word hope, it does not in any way affect the truth of this observation. Malone.

Note return to page 364 3&lblank; we shall part with neither.] In our old language, to part signified to have part. See Chaucer, Cant. Tales, ver. 9504: “That no wight with his blisse parten shall.” The French use partir in the same sense. Tyrwhitt. Tyrwhitt mistakes the sense of this passage. To part does not signify to share or divide, but to depart or go away; and Balthazar means to say, that whilst debating which is best, they should go away without either. M. Mason.

Note return to page 365 4&lblank; bought and sold.] This is a proverbial phrase. “To be bought and sold in a company.” See Ray's Collection, p. 179, edit. 1737. Steevens. So, in K. Richard III.: “Jocky of Norfolk, be not so bold, “Diccon, thy master, is bought and sold.” The meaning of this proverbial sentence is, that the person to whom it is applied is deluded, and over-reached by foul and secret practices. Malone.

Note return to page 366 5Break any breaking here,] So, in King Richard II.: “Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncles.” Malone.

Note return to page 367 6&lblank; we'll pluck a crow together.] We find the same quibble on a like occasion in one of the comedies of Plautus.—The children of distinction among the Greeks and Romans had usually birds of different kinds given them for their amusement. This custom Tyndarus in the Captives mentions, and says, that for his part he had tantum upupam. Upupa signifies both a lapwing and a mattock, or some instrument of the same kind, employed to dig stones from the quarries. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 7Once this, &lblank;] This expression appears to me so singular, that I cannot help suspecting the passage to be corrupt. Malone. Once this, may mean, once for all, at once. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book i.: “Some perhaps, loving my estate, others my person; but once I knew all of them,” &c. Again, ibid. book iii.: “&lblank; She hit him, with his own sworde, such a blowe upon the waste, that she almost cut him asunder: once she sundered his soule from his body, sending it to Proserpina, an angry goddess against ravishers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 369 8&lblank; Your long experience of her wisdom, &c. Plead on her part &lblank;] The old copy reads your, in both places. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 370 9&lblank; the doors are made against you.] Thus the old edition. The modern editors read: &lblank; the doors are barr'd against you. To make the door, is the expression used to this day in some counties of England, instead of, to bar the door. Steevens.

Note return to page 371 1&lblank; supposed by the common rout &lblank;] Supposed is founded on supposition, made by conjecture. Johnson.

Note return to page 372 2For slander lives upon succession; For ever hous'd, where it gets possession.] Thus the only authentick copy; for which Mr. Steevens and the other modern editors, in adopting an adulteration introduced in the second folio, read: “For slander lives upon succession, “For ever hous'd when it once gets possession.” It should be observed that in ancient poetry the words succession and possession are used as quadrisyllables; the first of these lines, therefore, is an heroick verse; and the second, having the additional syllable, certainly wants no supplemental syllable to complete the metre, whatever fancy the reviser of the second folio may have entertained. In the play of Measure for Measure, the reader will hereafter find an attempt by Mr. Steevens to ridicule the notion that every syllable of such words as succession and perfection was considered as operative by our old poets. But it is not necessary to introduce that subject here, it having been discussed in the Essay on Shakspeare's Metre. Mr. Tyrwhitt, in a subsequent note, mentions that the word once is not inconsistent with the metre. But allowing this to be the case, it ought not on that account to be received, unless we consider ourselves at liberty to re-write our poet's works. Mr. Tyrwhitt, with whom I was well acquainted, was an excellent critick; but he never possessed any ancient copy of these plays but the second folio; and before his death the spuriousness and adulterations of that copy had not been ascertained. Had he lived a few years longer, he would, I have no doubt, have entertained a very different opinion of that book from that which he had of it when he wrote this remark. Malone. The second folio has once; which rather improves the sense, and is not inconsistent with the metre. Tyrwhitt. If we were to read housed, the difficulty would be got over by a very slight alteration. Boswell.

Note return to page 373 3And, in despight of mirth,] Mr. Theobald does not know what to make of this, and therefore has put wrath instead of mirth into the text; in which he is followed by the Oxford editor. But the old reading is right, and the meaning is, I will be merry even out of spight to mirth, which is now of all things the most unpleasing to me. Warburton. Though mirth hath withdrawn herself from me, and seems determined to avoid me, yet, in despight of her, and whether she will or not, I am resolved to be merry. Heath.

Note return to page 374 4Enter Luciana &lblank;] Here in the old blundering first folio, we find,—“Enter Juliana.” Corrected in the second folio. Steevens. Doubtless the profound sagacity of the reviser of the second folio is strongly evinced by the detection of this important errour of the press; which was corrected in the original copy in the very next speech spoken by Luciana, whose name afterwards is justly exhibited through the entire scene. But it is remarkable that the great acuteness which the reviser displayed on this occasion did not enable him to discover, that in two of the quatrains the rhymes, which were evidently intended, were destroyed by the negligence of the press; and the word buildings, instead of building, in the fourth line of this scene, converts the passage into nonsense. Malone.

Note return to page 375 5&lblank; that you have quite forgot, &c.] In former copies: “And may it be that you have quite forgot “A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus, “Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? “Shall love in buildings grow so ruinate?” This passage has hitherto laboured under a double corruption. What conceit could our editors have of love in buildings growing ruinate? Our poet meant no more than this: Shall thy love-springs rot, even in the spring of love? and shall thy love grow ruinous, even while 'tis but building up? The next corruption is by an accident at press, as I take it. This scene for fifty-two lines successively is strictly in alternate rhymes: and this measure is never broken, but in the second and fourth lines of these two couplets. 'Tis certain, I think, a monosyllable dropt from the tail of the second verse; and I have ventured to supply it by, I hope, a probable conjecture. Theobald. Love-springs are young plants or shoots of love. Thus, in the Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher: “The nightingale among the thick-leav'd springs “That sits alone in sorrow.” See a note on the second scene of the fifth act of Coriolanus, and Mr. Malone's edition of our author's works, Venus and Adonis, st. 109, where the meaning of this expression is more fully dilated. The rhyme which Mr. Theobald would restore, stands thus in the old edition: “&lblank; shall Antipholus &lblank;” If, therefore, instead of ruinate, we should read ruinous, the passage may remain as it was originally written; and perhaps, indeed, throughout the play we should read Antiphilus, a name which Shakspeare might have found in some quotations from Pliny, b. xxxv. and xxxvii. Antiphilus is also one of the heroes in Sidney's Arcadia. Ruinous is justified by a passage in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act V. Sc. IV.: “Lest growing ruinous the building fall.” Throughout the first folio, Antipholus occurs much more often than Antipholis, even where the rhyme is not concerned; and were the rhyme defective here, such transgressions are accounted for in other places. Steevens. The word—hate, in the first line, is introduced by Theobald, without authority, and certainly injures the sense of the passage. Hate rotting the springs of love, is a strange idea. It appears to me that the true reading is that suggested, though not adopted, by Steevens: “&lblank; shall, Antipholus, “Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? “Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?” Which preserves both the sense and the rhyme. M. Mason. Antipholis, I think, is found but thrice in the original copy. I have therefore adhered to the other spelling. I have given the text as it appears in the original and authentick copy, except that it has in the fourth line buildings, (which was manifestly an errour of the press, as Mr. Theobald observed;) ruinate for ruinous is now substituted. Mr. Theobald's observation, that the first fifty-two lines of the scene are in alternate rhyming verse is very important; and decisively shows, that there is some errour in the passage before us, as it is exhibited in the original copy. I agree entirely in opinion with Mr. M. Mason, that Mr. Theobald's mode of easing the defect by reading—“Shall Antipholus hate,” &c. is very objectionable: neither the arrangement, nor expression—“Shall hate rot the springs of love?” are satisfactory. Our poet, I think, generally used to rot as a neutral verb. I have therefore given the preference to the reading suggested by Mr. Steevens, ruinous, which has an additional claim, from its being a slighter deviation from the original text. Though Shakspeare has used the verb to ruinate in his Rape of Lucrece, in his sonnets, and elsewhere, it may be observed, that the adjective, ruinate, does not occur in any of his works, supposing the present passage to be incorrectly printed in the conclusion of the fourth line. On the other hand, ruinous occurs five times in his plays. In Timon of Athens it is used figuratively, as here: “&lblank; O you gods, “Is yon despised and ruinous man, my lord? “Full of decay and failing?” It therefore seems to me more probable that the errour in this passage arose from the inattention of the transcriber or printer to the rhyme at the end of the fourth line, than in any other way. How negligent one or the other was in this respect, appears twelve lines lower, where, instead of attaint, the rhyme intended for saint, we have attaine. With respect to love-springs, or “the buds of love,” it may be observed that the word springs, in its primary signification, means the young shoots, or buds of plants; and that when sprigs that issue from the earth are meant, they are often denominated by our old writers—water-springs. See Psalm cvii. v. 33. The word in the sense which it bears here is, I believe, now little known except to agriculturists; (Dr. Johnson has it not in his Dictionary;) but to Shakspeare, perhaps from his early residence in the country, it appears to have been familiar; for he again uses it in his Venus and Adonis: “This canker that eats up love's tender spring.” Again, in the Rape of Lucrece: “To dry the old oak's sap, and cherish springs.” So, in Pliny's Natural History, by Ph. Holland, folio, 1600, l. 526, b. xxii. ch. 21: “So long as they [sprouts] are no other than buds sprouting forth under the concavitie or pit-hole of the aforesaid joints, they term them oculos, [i. e. oilets or eyes;] marie, in the very top they be named by them germina [i. e. sprigs or burgeons.] Now these oilets are properly (in twigs or sets of trees,) those buds called, where the new spring first shooteth forth.” [Oculi autem in arborum furculis proprie vocantur, unde germinant.] See also Cotgrave's Dict. folio, 1611: “Bourgeonnement. A springing, budding, putting out.” “Bourgeonner. To bud, spring or sprout out; to burgeon, put or shoot out.” Hence doubtless springal, a youngster or stripling. The substantive spring, however, in this sense, seems to have gradually become obsolete; and sprig, which is perhaps a corruption of the same word, to have taken its place. And with a reference to the same term, our author in Venus and Adonis makes the goddess say, “If springing things be any jot disminish'd, “They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth.” The notion that love is gradually built up, and that the lover's bosom is the mansion where this sovereign deity resides, appears to have been a favourite with our poet. Thus, in the passage in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, which has already been partly quoted by Mr. Steevens, but which I shall cite here more fully, because it confirms the observation just now made: “O thou, that dost inhabit in my breast, “Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, “Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall.” Again, in his 119th sonnet: “And ruin'd love, when it is built anew.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Let not the piece of virtue which is set “Betwixt us as the cement of our love, “To keep it builded, be the ram to batter “The fortress of it.” Again, in Troïlus and Cressida: “&lblank; Time, force, and death, “Do to the body what extremes you can; “But the strong base and building of my love “Is as the very centre of the earth “Drawing all things to it.” I have only to add, that if the reader should look at the second scene of the fifth act of Coriolanus, as directed by Mr. Steevens in the preceding note, he will find nothing in the text or notes relative to the subjects now before us, either in his fourth edition of 1793, or in his posthumous edition of 1803; but he will be no great loser. The note which was meant to be referred to, may indeed be found in his third edition of 1778, but was struck out in the subsequent editions. The only valuable part of it is a passage quoted from Holinshed, by Mr. Tollet, explanatory of the word springs. Malone.

Note return to page 376 6&lblank; his own attaint?] The old copy has—attaine. The emendation is Mr. Rowe's. Malone.

Note return to page 377 7&lblank; make us but believe,] The old copy reads—not believe. It was corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone. From the whole tenour of the context, it is evident, that the negative (not) got place in the first copies instead of but And these two monosyllables have by mistake reciprocally dispossessed one another in many other passages of our author's works. Theobald.

Note return to page 378 8Being compact of credit,] Means, being made altogether of credulity. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, Part II. 1632: “&lblank; she's compact “Merely of blood &lblank;.” Again, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Love is a spirit, all compact of fire.” Steevens. Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “If he, compact of jars, grow musical.” Malone.

Note return to page 379 9&lblank; vain,] Is light of tongue, not veracious. Johnson.

Note return to page 380 1&lblank; to you do I decline.] Far more do I fall off or decline from her to you. Malone.

Note return to page 381 2&lblank; sweet mermaid,] Mermaid is only another name for syren. So, in the Index to P. Holland's Translation of Pliny's Natural History: “Mermaids in Homer were witches, and their songs enchantments.” Steevens. So, in our poet's Venus and Adonis: “Thy mermaid voice hath done me double wrong.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 3&lblank; in thy sister's flood &lblank;] The old copy reads—sister. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 383 4Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs:] So, in Macbeth; “His silver skin laced with his golden blood.” Malone. The author of Remarks, &c. 8vo. 1783, has a similar observation; but this remark was written, and I think noted in my first edition, before the publication of the book referred to. Malone.

Note return to page 384 5&lblank; as a bed I'll take thee,] Bed, which the word lie fully supports, was introduced in the second folio. The old copy has—bud. Malone. Mr. Edwards suspects a mistake of one letter in the passage, and would read—I'll take them.—Perhaps, however, both the ancient readings may be right:—as a bud I'll take thee, &c. i. e. I, like an insect, will take thy bosom for a rose, or some other flower, and, “&lblank; phœnix-like, beneath thine eye “Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die.” It is common for Shakspeare to shift hastily from one image to another. Mr. Edwards's conjecture may, however, receive support from the following passage in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; my bosom as a bed “Shall lodge thee.” Steevens. See the note there, p. 25. Malone.

Note return to page 385 6Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink!] Love means —the Queen of love. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Now for the love of love, and her soft hours.” Again, more appositely in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Love is a spirit, all compact of fire, “Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.” Venus is here speaking of herself. Again, ibidem: “She's love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 386 7Not mad, but mated;] i. e. confounded. So, in Macbeth: “My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight.” Steevens. I suspect there is a play upon words intended here. Mated signifies not only confounded, but matched with a wife: and Antipholus, who had been challenged as a husband by Adriana, which he cannot account for, uses the word mated in both these senses. M. Mason. Unquestionably mated means here, as elsewhere, bewildered, puzzled. The Duke in the fifth act uses the very same words, where certainly no quibble was intended, nor do I believe that any was meant here: “I think you are all mated or stark mad.” Malone.

Note return to page 387 8Gaze where &lblank;] The old copy reads, when. Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 388 9My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.] When he calls the girl his only heaven on the earth, he utters the common cant of lovers. When he calls her his heaven's claim, I cannot understand him. Perhaps he means that which he asks of heaven. Johnson. All the happiness that I wish for on earth, and all that I claim from heaven hereafter. My sole earth's heaven.— So, in the Rape of Lucrece: “My will that marks thee for my earth's delight.” Malone.

Note return to page 389 1&lblank; for I aim thee:] The old copy has— &lblank; for I am thee. Some of the modern editors— &lblank; I mean thee. Perhaps we should read: &lblank; for I aim thee. He has just told her, that she was his sweet hope's aim. So, in Orlando Furioso, 1594: “&lblank; like Cassius, “Sits sadly dumping, aiming Cæsar's death.” Again, in Drayton's Legend of Robert Duke of Normandy: “I make my changes aim one certain end.” Steevens.

Note return to page 390 2A very reverend &lblank;] The old copy has reverent, which is only the ancient spelling of reverend. Malone.

Note return to page 391 3&lblank; without he say, sir-reverence,] This a very old corruption of save-reverence, salvâ reverentiâ. In Much Ado About Nothing, the more correct expression occurs: “I think you will have me say, save-reverence, a husband.” See Blount's Glossography, 8vo. 1682: “Sa reverence, salvâ reverentiâ, saving regard or respect; an usual word, but sir-reverence by the vulgar.” It is, therefore, we see, very properly put into the mouth of Dromio. Malone.

Note return to page 392 4&lblank; Swart,] i. e. black, or rather of a dark brown. Thus, in Milton's Comus, v. 436: “No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine.” Again, in King Henry VI. P. I. “And whereas I was black and swart before.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's first definition is right. Swart is a Dutch word; and the Dutch call a blackamoor, a swart. Malone.

Note return to page 393 5Nell, sir;—but her name and three quarters, &c.] The old copy has—her name is three quarters. Malone. This passage has hitherto lain as perplexed and unintelligible, as it is now easy and truly humorous. If a conundrum be restored, in setting it right, who can help it? I owe the correction to the sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Theobald. This poor conundrum is borrowed by Massinger, in the Old Law, 1653: “Cook. That Nell was Hellen of Greece. “Clown. As long as she tarried with her husband she was Ellen, but after she came to Troy she was Nell of Troy. “Cook. Why did she grow shorter when she came to Troy? “Clown. She grew longer, if you mark the story, when she grew to be an ell, &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 394 6Ant. S. Where Scotland? Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness; hard, in the palm of the hand.] From this passage we may learn, that this comedy was not revived after the accession of the Scottish monarch to the English throne; otherwise it would probably have been struck out by the Master of the Revels, as that relative to the Scotch lord was in the Merchant of Venice, Act I. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 395 7In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, making war against her heir.] All the other countries, mentioned in this description, are in Dromio's replies satirically characterized: but here, as the editors have ordered it, no remark is made upon France; nor any reason given, why it should be in her forehead: but only the kitchen wench's high forehead is rallied, as pushing back her hair. Thus all the modern editions; but the first folio reads— making war against her heir. And I am very apt to think, this last is the true reading; and that an equivoque, as the French call it, a double meaning, is designed in the poet's allusion: and therefore I have replaced it in the text. In 1589, Henry III. of France being stabbed, and dying of his wound, was succeeded by Henry IV. of Navarre, whom he appointed his successor: but whose claim the states of France resisted, on account of his being a protestant. This, I take it, is what he means, by France making war against her heir. Now, as in 1591, Queen Elizabeth sent over 4000 men, under the conduct of the Earl of Essex, to the assistance of this Henry of Navarre, it seems to me very probable, that during this expedition being on foot, this comedy made its appearance. And it was the finest address imaginable in the poet to throw such an oblique sneer at France, for opposing the succession of that heir, whose claim his royal mistress, the queen, had sent over a force to establish, and oblige them to acknowledge. Theobald. With this explication Dr. Warburton concurs; and Sir Thomas Hanmer thinks an equivocation was intended, though he retains hair in the text. Yet surely they have all lost the sense in looking beyond it. Our author, in my opinion, only sports with an allusion, in which he takes too much delight, and means that his mistress had the French disease. The ideas are rather too offensive to be dilated. By a forehead armed, he means covered with incrusted eruptions: by reverted, he means having the hair turning backward. An equivocal word must have senses applicable to both the subjects to which it is applied. Both forehead and France might in some sort make war against their hair, but how did the forehead make war against its heir? Johnson. The reading of the authentick copy, heir, was displaced by the reviser of the second folio, who substituted hair instead of it; doubtless, not perceiving that the passage was intended to convey any other meaning than the common colloquial expression afforded. This innovation kept its place in all the subsequent copies, till at length Mr. Theobald restored the original word; and on mature consideration, I think he was right. The colloquial expression, it may be observed, was “against the hair.” But our author, we find, departed from that usage, and wrote “&lblank; against her,” &c. which is equally applicable to France and to Dromio's new wife. Even this slight circumstance ought to have some weight, and affords a confirmation of the original reading. Unquestionably, as has been observed above, an equivocation was intended in this passage, which, in one point of view, relates to the venereal malady, (called corona veneris,) that breaks out in the forehead, and in another to the war which, when this comedy was written, was carried on by the Leaguers against Henry the Fourth, the rightful heir of the crown of France.—When the passage was recited on the stage, the word heir, (which in our poet's time was, I believe, pronounced with a stronger aspiration than it is at present,) or hair, would equally suggest both the senses here intended to be conveyed. But when our author originally committed his thoughts to paper, it was more natural for him to write heir, because that word precisely marks out the less obvious allusion which yet, it should seem, was uppermost in his thoughts, but which might have been overlooked, if he had written hair: for in that case, the political allusion would have rested in his own breast; but by adopting the other mode, he precluded all doubt upon the subject. He therefore, I conceive, wrote the word heir, which is found in the copy printed immediately from the manuscript, because the circumstances of the French king were predominant in his mind, and he knew that the other allusion was sufficiently obvious and would be easily understood. Hence the present regulation of the text appears to me to be that on which Shakspeare himself has set his seal. Dr. Johnson remarks, that “an equivocal term must have senses applicable to both the subjects to which it is applied.” A more correct writer would undoubtedly observe that rule; but our author is seldom very scrupulous in this respect, the terms which he uses in comparisons frequently not answering exactly on both sides. However, in the passage before us, the words armed and reverted precisely correspond with the two images meant to be presented; so also does heir, when spoken, from its similarity in sound to the hair of the head. With respect to the principal remaining word, the poet, I imagine, would say, “I placed France in her forehead rather than in any part of the body; for this single reason,—because it easily admitted of the obvious and the covert allusion which I had in view.” Malone.

Note return to page 396 8&lblank; I felt it hot in her breath.] This passage has hitherto been passed over without any comment, nor am I sure that I understand it. Perhaps the allusion is to the fiery threats which Spain had recently used towards England, when she sent out her invincible armada; or is the allusion merely to the heat of her climate? Malone.

Note return to page 397 9&lblank; To be ballast &lblank;] The modern editors read—ballasted; the old copy—ballast, which is right. Thus, in Hamlet: “&lblank; to have the engineer “Hoist with his own petar.” i. e. hoisted. Steevens. Mr. Steevens, I apprehend, is not quite correct. Hoist for hoisted, heat for heated, &c. were certainly common in old language. But ballast was a contraction not of ballasted but of balased or balaced, (the participle of the verb to balase,) formed from the substantive balase, which, according to the usage of Shakspeare's time, was frequently written ballast. So drest for dressed, trust for trusted, &c. See Cawdray's Alphabetical Table of Hard Words, 8vo. 1604: “Balase; gravel wherewith ships are poysed,” &c. See also Bullocar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616: “Balase; gravel or any thing of weight laid in the bottom of ships, to make them goe upright.” So, Bishop Hall in his Satires, b. iv. sat. 5: “With some gal'd trunck ballac'd with straw and stone.” In another place in his Satires he has—unballac'd. Malone.

Note return to page 398 1&lblank; assured to her;] Affianced to her. Thus, in King John: “For so I did, when I was first assur'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 399 2&lblank; if my breast had not been made of faith, &c.] Alluding to the superstition of the common people, that nothing could resist a witch's power of transforming men into animals, but a great share of faith: however, the Oxford Editor thinks a breast made of flint better security; and he therefore put it in. Warburton.

Note return to page 400 3If every one knows us &lblank;] So the authentick copy; for which Mr. Steevens has—knew us. Malone.

Note return to page 401 4But lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,] So the authentick copy; but Mr. Pope, according to his usual practice, not being acquainted with this mode of speech, printed—of self-wrong, as we should certainly now write; and this innovation was adopted by Mr. Steevens in all his editions previous to mine, as well as by preceding editors. But the phraseology of Shakspeare's age was, guilty to, not guilty of. So, in The Winter's Tale: “But as the unthought of accident is guilty “To what we wildly do &lblank;.” Again, in The Guls Hornbooke, by Thomas Delker, 4to. 1609, p. 36: “For by this means you shall get experience by being guilty to their abbominable shaving?” Again, in an extract from a letter written by Sir Henry Wotton, Birch's “Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth,” i. 309: “But I have carried therein, as in all my other charges, an honest respect to my lord's service, and am not guilty to myself of any bad dealing in this information.” This passage ought to be a perpetual memento to all future editors of these plays never to disturb the author's phraseology, merely because it is not conformable to the usage of modern times. Malone.

Note return to page 402 5&lblank; at the Porcupine:] It is remarkable, that throughout the old editions of Shakspeare's plays, the word Porpentine is used instead of Porcupine. Perhaps it was so pronounced at that time. I have since observed the same spelling in the plays of other ancient authors. Mr. Tollet finds it likewise in p. 66 of Ascham's works, by Bennet, and in Stowe's Chronicles in the years 1117, 1135. Steevens. The word, although written Porpentine in the old editions of Shakspeare, was scarcely so pronounced, as Mr. Steevens conjectures, at least not generally; for in Eliot's Dictionary, 1545, and Cooper's Dictionary, 1584, it is—“Porkepyne;” and in Hulet's Abecedarium, 1552—“Porpyn.” See a note on The Tempest, Act I. Sc. II. Douce.

Note return to page 403 6&lblank; want gilders &lblank;] A gilder is a coin valued from one shilling and sixpence, to two shillings. Steevens.

Note return to page 404 7Is growing to me &lblank;] i. e. accruing to me. Steevens.

Note return to page 405 8&lblank; and her confederates,] The old copy has—their confederates. The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 406 9Perchance, I will be there as soon as you.] I will, instead of I shall, is a Scoticism. Douce. And an Irishism too. Reed. And an ancient Anglicism, as appears by the present passage, and from several of our old writers. Malone.

Note return to page 407 *First folio, And.

Note return to page 408 1Either send the chain, or send me by some token.] Thus the authentick copy; for which Mr. Pope, supposing the metre imperfect, reads—Or send, &c. This change he has, I believe, always made in similar cases; and was in many instances followed by Mr. Steevens. I have asserted that the words either, neither, and many other similar words were used by Shakspeare and his contemporaries as monosyllables, and I have proved it. Mr. Steevens, however, persevered in controverting this statement, and we are at issue upon it. But as this point is fully discussed in the Essay on Shakspeare's Metre, it is unnecessary to add any thing further on this subject here. It has been plausibly suggested to me, that the words in the subsequent part of the line were transposed; and that we ought to read—or send by me some token. But it was not Angelo's meaning, as seems to have been supposed, that Antipholus of Ephesus should send a jewel or other token by him, but that Antipholus should send him with a verbal token to his wife, by which it might be ascertained that he came from Antipholus; and that she might safely pay the price of the chain.—“My master has sent me to you for his cloth, and by the same token he dined abroad yesterday.” Such was the common practice and phraseology formerly. Malone.

Note return to page 409 2And then, sir, she bears away:] Mr. Steevens, to improve the metre, (which, according to his theory, we are to suppose destroyed by interpolation,) omits the word she. Malone.

Note return to page 410 3&lblank; thou peevish sheep,] Peevish is silly. So, in Cymbeline: “Desire my man's abode where I did leave him, “He's strange and peevish.” See a note on Act I. Sc. VII. Steevens. It has already been observed in a note on The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I. Sc. I. that ship and sheep in Warwickshire, and some of the neighbouring counties, are by the peasantry pronounced alike. Hence the present play on these words. Malone.

Note return to page 411 4A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.] The word hire is here used as a dissyllable, and accordingly is spelt in the original copy —hier. Of this use of the word hire, I have given various examples. See the Essay on the Metre of Shakspeare. Notwithstanding Mr. Steeven's solicitude about the metre, he has taken no notice of this verse, which, but for the circumstance above-mentioned, would be imperfect. Malone.

Note return to page 412 5You sent me for a ropes end as soon:] Ropes is here a dissyllable; the Saxon genitive case. Malone. Mr. Malone says that rope's is here a dissyllable; the Saxon genitive case; but a Saxon genitive case accords better with one of Puck's lyrical effusions, [see Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II. Sc. I.] than with the vulgar pronunciation of Dromio. I suppose, a word has been casually omitted in the old copy, and that we should read as I have printed. So, above, the same speaker says— “And then, sir, bears away: our fraughtage, sir &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 413 6Where Dowsabel &lblank;] This name occurs in one of Drayton's Pastorals: “He had, as antique stories tell, “A daughter cleaped Dowsabel.” Steevens. So also, in The London Prodigal, a comedy, 1605:—“to cast away as pretty a Dowsabel as we should chance to see in a summer's day.” The verses above quoted, from a poem written by Drayton, appeared first in 1593, subsequently, I think, to the production of this comedy. Malone.

Note return to page 414 7Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?] Alluding to those meteors in the sky, which have the appearance of lines of armies meeting in the shock. To this appearance he compares civil wars in another place: “Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, “All of one nature, of one substance bred, “Did lately meet in the intestine shock “And furious close of civil butchery.” Warburton. The allusion is more clearly explained by the following comparison in the second book of Paradise Lost: “As when, to warn proud cities, war appears “Wag'd in the troubled sky, and armies rush “To battle in the clouds, before each van “Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears, “Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms “From either end of heaven the welkin burns.” Steevens. The original copy reads—Oh, his heart's meteors, &c. This obvious correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 415 8First he denied you had in him no right.] i. e. he asserted with a strong negative asseveration that you had in him no right. It is marvellous, that some of our clippers and trimmers of Shakspeare's language, have not objected to this line as ungrammatical, and proposed to read a right. It is certainly not such a phraseology as a correct writer would now use. Nevertheless, it was Shakspeare's phraseology, and that of his contemporaries. So, in King Richard the Third: “You may deny that you were not the cause “Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.” Again, in “Instructions by Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland, to his Son Algernon;” a MS. in the collection of the Earl of Egremont, written in 1609: “Not that I deny that men should not be good husbands.” Malone.

Note return to page 416 6&lblank; sere,] that is, dry, withered. Johnson. So, in Milton's Lycidas: “&lblank; ivy never sere.” Steevens. So, in Spencer's Pastoral for January: “All so my lustful leaf is dry and sere.” Malone.

Note return to page 417 1Stigmatical in making.] That is, marked or stigmatised by nature with deformity, as a token of his vicious disposition. Johnson. So, in The Wonder of a Kingdom, 1655: “If you spy any man that hath a look, “Stigmatically drawn, like to a fury's,” &c. Steevens. The fine lines which our author has put into the mouth of Constance in King John (Act III. Sc. I.) fully explain what he meant by stigmatical in making: “If thou that bidst me be content, wert grim, “Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb, “Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, “Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, “Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, “I would not care, I then would be content, “But thou art fair,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 418 2Far from her nest the lapwing, &c.] This expression seems to be proverbial. I have met with it in many of the old comick writers. Greene, in his Second Part of Coney-catching, 1592, says: “But again to our priggers, who, as before I said—cry with the lapwing farthest from her nest, and from their place of residence where their most abode is.” Nash, speaking of Gabriel Harvey, says—“he withdraweth men, lapwing-like, from his nest, as much as might be.” See this passage yet more amply explained in Measure for Measure, Act I. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 419 3&lblank; an everlasting garment &lblank;] The sergeants in Shakspeare's days were clad in buff, as Dromio tells us the man was who arrested Antipholus. Buff is also a cant expression for a man's skin, a covering which lasts him as long as his life. Dromio therefore calls buff an everlasting garment; and in pursuance of this quibble on the word buff, he calls the sergeant, in the next scene, the “Picture of old Adam;” that is, of Adam before his fall, whilst he remained unclad: “What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled?” So, in The Woman-Hater, Pandar says,—“Were it not for my smooth citizen, I'd quit this transitory trade, get me an everlasting robe, and turn sergeant.” M. Mason. The commentator here, I believe, found out more conceits in this passage than the author thought of. Not one of them is supported by the passage quoted from the Woman-Hater, except that a sheriff's officer was usually clad in an everlasting garment. Mr. Steevens had in a former edition the following note here, which he afterwards struck out: “Everlasting was in the time of Shakspeare, as well as at present, the name of a kind of durable stuff;” in support of which he adduced the very passage above quoted by Mr. M. Mason. On the words in K. Henry IV. Sc. I.: “and is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?” Mr. Steevens has shewn that durance was formerly a kind of stuff, probably the same as everlasting: but it is not pretended that these words contain any allusion to the human skin. Why therefore should it be supposed that a cant term, which has not been shewn to have been in use in Shakspeare's time, was here in the speaker's thoughts, unless we also attribute a similar conceit to the Prince in Henry IV.? On a comparison of the two passages, it should seem that the sergeant's buff jerkin was called a robe of durance with allusion to his occupation of arresting men and putting them in durance, or prison; and that durance being a kind of stuff sometimes called everlasting, the buff jerkin was hence called an “everlasting garment.” In a subsequent scene, Dromio describes the sergeant as one “that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance.” Malone.

Note return to page 420 4A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough;] Dromio here bringing word in haste that his master is arrested, describes the bailiff by names proper to raise horror and detestation of such a creature, such as, a devil, a fiend, a wolf, &c. But how does fairy come up to these terrible ideas? we should read, a fiend, a fury, &c. Theobald. There were fairies like hobgoblins, pitiless and rough, and described as malevolent and mischievous. Johnson. So, Milton: “No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, “Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.” Malone. It is true that there is a species of malevolent and mischievous fairies; but fairy, as it here stands, is generical. T. Weston. Surely not, when specifically designated by the epithets pitiless and rough. Malone.

Note return to page 421 *First folio, lans.

Note return to page 422 5A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, &c. of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands;] It should be written, I think, narrow lanes, as he has the same expression in King Richard II. Act V. Sc. VI.: “Even such they say as stand in narrow lanes.” Grey. The preceding rhyme forbids us to read—lanes. Lands, I believe, in the present instance, mean, what we now call landing-places at the water-side. A shoulder-clapper is a bailiff. So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “&lblank; fear none but these same shoulder-clappers.” Steevens. Narrow lands is certainly the true reading, as not only the rhyme points out, but the sense; for as a creek is a narrow water, forming an inlet from the main body into the neighbouring shore, so a narrow-land is an outlet or tongue of the shore that runs into the water. Besides, narrow lanes and alleys are synonymous. Henley. Surely our author was thinking only of narrow streets or lanes, for which he substituted lands solely for the sake of the rhyme. One of the allusions here, is found in The Wandering Jew, 4to. 1640, but written some time before: “Now, Sir, all I desire at your hands is, to know whether by my place (my trade of shoulder-clapping,) I shall ever come to any good, or no.” Malone.

Note return to page 423 6A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;] To run counter is to run backward, by mistaking the course of the animal pursued; to draw dry-foot is, I believe, to pursue by the track or prick of the foot; to run counter and draw dry-foot well are, therefore, inconsistent. The jest consists in the ambiguity of the word counter, which means the wrong way in the chace, and a prison in London. The officer that arrested him was a sergeant of the counter. For the congruity of this jest with the scene of action, let our author answer. Johnson. Ben Jonson has the same expression, Every Man in His Humour, Act II. Sc. IV.: “Well, the truth is, my old master intends to follow my young, dry-foot over Moorfields to London this morning,” &c. To draw dry-foot, is when the dog pursues the game by the scent of the foot: for which the blood-hound is famed. Grey. So, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks: “A hunting, Sir Oliver, and dry-foot too!” Again, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “I care not for dry-foot hunting.” Steevens. A hound that draws dry-foot, means what is usually called a blood-hound, trained to follow men by the scent. The expression occurs in an Irish Statute of the 10th of William III. for preservation of the game, which enacts, that all persons licensed for making and training up of setting dogs, shall, in every two years, during the continuance of their licence, be compelled to train up, teach, and make, one or more hounds, to hunt on dry-foot. The practice of keeping blood-hounds was long continued in Ireland, and they were found of great use in detecting murderers and robbers. M. Mason.

Note return to page 424 7One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to hell.] Before judgment; i. e. on what is called mesne process: when a man is arrested after judgment, he is said to be taken in execution. Shakspeare is here using technical language. Malone. Hell was the cant term for an obscure dungeon in any of our prisons: it is mentioned in The Counter-Rat, a poem, 1658: “In Wood-street's hole, or Poultry's hell.” The dark place into which a tailor throws his shreds is still in possession of this title. So, in Decker's If This be Not a Good Play, the Devil is in It, 1612: “Tailors—'tis known, “They scorn thy hell, having better of their own.” There was likewise a place of this name under the Exchequer Chamber, where the king's debtors were confined till they had “paid the uttermost farthing.” Steevens. An account of the local situation of hell may be found in the Journals of the House of Commons, vol. x. p. 83, as the Commons passed through it to King William and Queen Mary's Coronation, and gave directions concerning it. In Queen Elizabeth's time the office of Clerk of the Treasury was situated there, as I find in Sir James Dyer's Reports, fol. 245, A, where mention is made of “one Christopher Hole, Secondary del Treasurie, et un auncient attorney and practiser in le office del Clerke del Treasurie al Hell.” This I take to be the Treasury of the Court of Common Pleas, of which Sir James Dyer was Chief Justice, and which is now kept immediately under the Court of Exchequer. The Office of the Tally-Court of the Chamberlain of the Exchequer is still there, and tallies for many centuries back are piled up and preserved in this office. Two or three adjacent apartments have within a few years been converted to hold the Vouchers of the public Accounts, which had become so numerous as to overstock the place in which they were kept at Lincoln's Inn. These, therefore, belong to the Auditors of Public Accounts. Other rooms are turned into coal cellars.—There is a pump still standing of excellent water, called hell pump:—And the place is to this day well known by the name of hell. Vaillant.

Note return to page 425 8&lblank; on the case.] An action upon the case, is a general action given for the redress of a wrong done any man without force, and not especially provided for by law. Grey. Dromio, I believe, is still quibbling, His master's case was touched by the shoulder-clapper. See p. 232: “&lblank; in a case of leather,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 426 9But is in a suit of buff, which 'rested him,] Thus the authentick copy, for which Mr. Rowe substituted—But he's in, as we certainly should now write. This alteration, with all the other editors, I had imprudently adopted in my first edition; but the text is unquestionably right, the omission of the personal pronoun being formerly a common usage. So, in the Jew of Malta: “Burhew, in brief, shalt have no tribute here:” i. e. thou shalt, &c. See also, K. Lear, Cymbeline, and the Essay on the Phraseology of Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 427 1That he,] The original copy has—Thus he. The emendation was made by the reviser of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 428 2&lblank; was he arrested on a band?] Thus the old copy, and I believe rightly; though the modern editors read—bond.—A bond, i. e. an obligatory writing to pay a sum of money, was anciently spelt band. A band is likewise a neckcloth. On this circumstance, I believe, the humour of the passage turns. Ben Jonson, personifying the instruments of the law, says— “&lblank; Statute, and band, and wax shall go with me.” Again, without personification: “See here your mortgage, statute, band, and wax.” Again, in Histriomastix, 1610: “&lblank; tye fast your lands “In statute staple, or these merchant's bands.” Steevens. Band is used in one of the senses which is couched under these words, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Sometimes her arms infold him, like a band.” See also Minsheu's Dictionary, 1617, in v. “Band, or obligation.” In the same column is found—“A band, or thong to tie withal.” Also—“A band for the neck, because it serves to bind about the neck.” These interpretations sufficiently explain the equivocation here intended. Malone.

Note return to page 429 3If he be in debt,] The old edition reads—If I be in debt. Steevens. For the emendation now made the present editor is answerable. Mr. Rowe reads—If time, &c. but I could not have been confounded by the ear with time, though it might with he. Malone.

Note return to page 430 4There's not a man I meet, but doth salute me &lblank;] This actually happened in the case of Sir Henry Wotton, when he was on his travels, about the time this play appears to have been written. See his letter to Lord Zouch, July 10, 1592. Reliquiæ Wotton, p. 676, edit. 1685. Malone.

Note return to page 431 5There's not a man I meet, but doth salute me As if I were their well acquainted friend;] So the old copy; and certainly it is exhibited as the author wrote the passage. We should now write—his well acquainted friend. But many men being comprised under the general words of the preceding line, the poet, writing the language of familiar life, makes the personal pronoun refer to what is implied rather than expressed. This note is written merely to repress the propensity which has prevailed of late, of reducing the language of Shakspeare to that of the present day. Malone.

Note return to page 432 6What, have you got the picture of old Adam new apparell'd?] A short word or two must have slipt out here, by some accident, in copying, or at press; otherwise I have no conception of the meaning of the passage. The case is this. Dromio's master had been arrested, and sent his servant home for money to redeem him: he running back with the money, meets the twin Antipholus, whom he mistakes for his master, and seeing him clear of the officer before the money was come, he cries, in a surprize—What, have you got rid of the picture of old Adam new apparell'd? For so I have ventured to supply, by conjecture. But why is the officer call'd old Adam new apparell'd? The allusion is to Adam in his state of innocence going naked; and immediately after the fall being cloath'd in a frock of skins. Thus he was new apparell'd: and in like manner, the serjeants of the Counter were formerly clad in buff, or calf's-skin, as the author humorously a little lower calls it. Theobald. The explanation is very good, but the text does not require to be amended. Johnson. I wish Dr. Johnson had shewn us how the text is intelligible without any emendation. For my part, I think Theobald's emendation absolutely necessary. I adopt it the more willingly, because I know that omission is one of the most common errours of the press. Malone. These jests on Adam's dress are common among our old writers. So, in King Edward III. 1599: “The register of all varieties “Since leathern Adam, to this younger hour.” Again, in Philip Stubbe's Anatomie of Abuses, 8vo. 1583: “Did the Lorde clothe our first parents in leather, as not hauing any thyng more precious to attire them withall,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 *First folio, sob.

Note return to page 434 7&lblank; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-pike.] Sets up his rest, is a phrase taken from military exercise. When gunpowder was first invented, its force was very weak, compared to that in present use. This necessarily required fire-arms to be of an extraordinary length. As the artists improved the strength of their powder, the soldiers proportionably shortened their arms and artillery; so that the cannon which Froissart tells us was once fifty feet long, was contracted to less than ten. This proportion likewise held in their muskets; so that, till the middle of the last century, the musketeers always supported their pieces, when they gave fire, with a rest stuck before them into the ground, which they called setting up their rest, and is here alluded to. There is another quibbling allusion too to the serjeant's office of arresting. But what most wants animadversion is the morris-pike, which is without meaning, impertinent to the sense, and false in the allusion: no pike being used amongst the dancers so called, or at least not famed for much execution. In a word, Shakspeare wrote— &lblank; a Maurice-pike. i. e. a pikeman of Prince Maurice's army. He was the greatest general of that age, and the conductor of the Low-country wars against Spain, under whom all the English gentry and nobility were bred to the service. Hence the pikes of his army became famous for their military exploits. Warburton. This conjecture is very ingenious, yet the commentator talks unnecessarily of the rest of a musket, by which he makes the hero of the speech set up the rest of a musket to do exploits with a pike. The rest of a pike was a common term, and signified, I believe, the manner in which it was fixed to receive the rush of the enemy. A morris-pike was a pike used in a morris or a military dance, and with which great exploits were done, that is, great feats of dexterity were shown. There is no need of change. Johnson. A morris-pike is mentioned by the old writers as a formidable weapon; and therefore Dr. Warburton's notion is deficient in first principles. “Morespikes (says Langley, in his translation of Polydore Virgil,) were used first in the siege of Capua.” And in Reynard's Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks, “the English mariners laid about them with brown bills, halberts, and morrice-pikes.” Farmer. Polydore Virgil does not mention morris-pikes at the siege of Capua, though Langley's translation of him advances their antiquity so high. Morris-pikes, or the pikes of the Moors, were excellent formerly; and since, the Spanish pikes have been equally famous. See Hartlib's Legacy, p. 48. Tollet. The mention of morris-pikes is frequent among our old writers. So, in Heywood's King Edward IV. 1626: “Of the French were beaten down “Morris-pikes and bowmen,” &c. Again, in Holinshed, p. 816: “&lblank; they entered the gallies again with moris pikes and fought,” &c. Steevens. There is, I believe, no authority for Dr. Johnson's assertion, that the morris-pike was used in the morris-dance. Swords were sometimes used upon that occasion. It certainly means the Moorish-pike, which was very common in the 16th century. See Grose's History of the English Army, vol. i. p. 135. Douce. The phrase—he that sets up his rest, in this instance, signifies only, I believe, “he that trusts”—is confident in his expectation. Thus, Bacon: “Sea-fights have been final to the war, but this is, when Princes set up their rest upon the battle.” Again, Clarendon: “They therefore resolved to set up their rest upon that stake, and to go through with it, or perish.” This figure of speech is certainly derived from the rest which Dr. Warburton has described, as that was the only kind of rest which was ever set up. Henley. Unquestionably, to set up his rest, means, in a metaphorical sense, to be firmly resolved; to be fixed and determined in his purpose, whether to do or suffer. The only question is, concerning the origin of the phrase. In the passage before us it is fairly traced to the rest of the pike; but in most instances, as Mr. Reed has justly observed, (in a note on Romeo and Juliet, Act V. Sc. III.) it has a reference to the game of Primero, at which game “to set up his rest” was a common expression. In the passage quoted above from Clarendon, the word stake shews that there the allusion is to the game at cards. Malone.

Note return to page 435 8&lblank; We'll mend our dinner here.] i. e. by purchasing something additional in the adjoining market. Malone.

Note return to page 436 9&lblank; if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.] In the old copy you is accidentally omitted. It was supplied by the editor of the second folio. I believe some other words were passed over by the compositor,—perhaps of this import:—“if you do expect spoon-meat, either stay away, or bespeak a long spoon.” The proverb mentioned afterwards by Dromio, is again alluded to in The Tempest, Act II. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 437 1&lblank; a drop of blood,] So, in the Witch, by Middleton, when a spirit descends, Hecate exclaims— “There's one come downe to fetch his dues, “A kisse, a coll, a sip of blood,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 438 2And will not lightly trust the messenger, &c.] And will not easily believe the messenger's account of my having been attached in Ephesus. I should not have explained so easy a passage, but that it has been misunderstood by an anonymous correspondent. Malone.

Note return to page 439 3&lblank; will pay them all.] i. e. will punish them by corporal correction. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “I have pepper'd the rogues; two of them, I am sure I have pay'd. Malone.

Note return to page 440 4&lblank; by my long ears.] He means, that his master had lengthened his ears by frequently pulling them. Steevens.

Note return to page 441 5&lblank; I am wak'd with it, when I sleep; rais'd with it, when I sit; &c.] Does not this antithetical speech of Dromio bear an ludicrous, but probably accidental resemblance, to Cicero's celebrated encomium on literary studies: Pro Archiâ Poetâ: “Delectant domi, non impediunt foris,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 442 6&lblank; Pinch.] The direction in the old copy is,—“and a school-master, called Pinch.” In many country villages the pedagogue is still a reputed conjurer. So, in Ben Jonson's Staple of News: “I would have ne'er a cunning school-master in England, I mean a cunning man as a school-master; that is, a conjurer,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 443 7Mistress, respice finem respect your end; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, Beware the rope's end.] These words seem to allude to a famous pamphlet of that time, wrote by Buchanan against the lord of Liddington; which ends with these words, Respice finem, respice funem. But to what purpose, unless our author would shew that he could quibble as well in English, as the other in Latin, I confess I know not. As for prophesying like the parrot, this alludes to people's teaching that bird unlucky words; with which, when any passenger was offended, it was the standing joke of the wise owner to say, Take heed, sir, my parrot prophesies. To this, Butler hints, where, speaking of Ralpho's skill in augury, he says: “Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, “That speak, and think contrary clean; “What member 'tis of whom they talk, “When they cry rope, and walk, knave, walk.” Warburton.

Note return to page 444 8Mark, how he trembles in his ecstacy!] So, in Venus and Adonis, 1593: “And trembling in her passion calls it balm.” Again, more appositely, ibidem: “Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy.” Malone.

Note return to page 445 9&lblank; your customers?] A customer is used in Othello for a common woman. Here it seems to signify one who visits such women. Malone.

Note return to page 446 1&lblank; companion &lblank;] A word of contempt, anciently used as we now use fellow. Steevens.

Note return to page 447 2Din'd at home! &c.] Thus the ancient copy. Mr. Theobald and subsequent editors read—I din'd, &c. which might be admitted, were we sure that a verse was intended. But Shakspeare, throughout his plays, frequently introduces short speeches in prose, in the midst of verse. I have therefore adhered to the old copy. Malone

Note return to page 448 3Perdy,] A corruption of the common French oath—Pardieu. Chaucer's personages are frequent in their use of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 449 4Certes,] i. e. certainly. So, in The Tempest: “For certes, these are people of the island.” Steevens. Again, in Othello: “Certes, I have already chosen mine officer.” Malone.

Note return to page 450 5&lblank; kitchen-vestal &lblank;] Her charge being, like that of the vestal virgins, to keep the fire burning. Johnson.

Note return to page 451 6&lblank; thou peevish officer?] This is the second time that in the course of this play, peevish has been used for foolish. Steevens. So, in The Curse of Corne-horders, by Charles Fitz Geffry, 4to. 1633, p. 14: “The Egyptians relieved the Israelites in the famine, though it were an abomination to the Egyptians, in their peevish superstition, to eat bread with the Hebrewes.” Malone.

Note return to page 452 7&lblank; unhappy strumpet!] Unhappy is here used in one of the senses of unlucky; i. e. mischievous. Steevens.

Note return to page 453 8He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not.] I suppose, the words—for me, which spoil the metre, might fairly be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 454 9&lblank; our stuff &lblank;] i. e. our baggage. In the orders that were issued for the royal Progresses in the last century, the king's baggage was always thus denominated. Malone.

Note return to page 455 1&lblank; you saw, they speak us fair, give us gold: &c.] They speak as fair, give us gold as you yourself saw, or have seen. An ingenious correspondent, Colonel Roberts, proposes to read —either you see, or else spake and gave; but I think the text is as the author wrote it. He did not, I conceive, mean that either of the Dromios should be very correct in language. Malone.

Note return to page 456 2&lblank; I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble; And not without some scandal to yourself, With circumstance, and oaths, so to deny This chain, &lblank;] It has already been observed, that our author and his contemporaries sometimes begin a sentence in one mode of construction, and end it in another. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Phraseology. Here we should now write—And so deny, &c. But the text is unquestionably right. Thus, in The Tempest, Act III. Sc. I.: “(I would not so;) and would no more endure “This wooden slavery than to suffer “The flesh-fly blow my mouth.” where Mr. Steevens has discarded the genuine text, and printed instead of it—than I would suffer, &c. Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act I. Sc. I.: “No more of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow; than to have.” Again, in Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; and that there were “No earthly means to save him, but that either “You must lay down the treasures of your body “To this supposed, or else to let him suffer,” &c. where Mr. Steevens again dismisses the poet's genuine language, and prints—“or else let him suffer;” and to have been consistent in the passage before us, he ought to have discarded to, and printed—so deny, &c. Again, in Sir Francis Bacon's “Charge touching Duels,” 4to. 1614, p. 6: “And besides, it passeth not amisse sometimes in government, that the greater sort be admonished by an example made in the meaner, and the dogge to be beaten before the lion.” See various other instances of this kind of phraseology in the Essay above referred to. Malone.

Note return to page 457 3&lblank; get within him,] i. e. close with him, grapple with him. Steevens.

Note return to page 458 4&lblank; take a house.] i. e. go into a house. So, we say—a dog takes the water. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 5I knew, he was not in his perfect wits.] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; to deal plainly, “I fear I am not in my perfect mind.” Malone.

Note return to page 460 6This week he hath been heavy, sour sad,] Mr. Steevens, though so much concerned for the metre of the following line, has passed this unnoticed, though it apparently wants a syllable. But it is not defective; for sour is used as a dissyllable, and was often so employed by Shakspeare's contemporaries. Accordingly so in the authentick copy, where we have sower. Malone.

Note return to page 461 7And much different from the man he was.] So the original and authentick copy, the folio 1629. The reviser of the second folio, I suppose, not being satisfied with the metre, reads— “And much, much different,” &c. And Mr. Steevens, as usual, has adopted this interpretation. The line in the text is no more exceptionable than many other which occur in these plays, and therefore I have not departed from the original copy. Malone.

Note return to page 462 8&lblank; the copy &lblank;] i. e. the theme. We still talk of setting copies for boys. Steevens. Our poet frequently uses copy for pattern. So, in Twelfth Night: “And leave the world no copy.” Malone.

Note return to page 463 9It seems, his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing:] So the authentick copy; and such was the language of Shakspeare, of which various examples have been given in the Essay above referred to. So, in Othello, Act III. Sc. III.: “There are a kind of men so loose of soul, “That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.” Again, in Hamlet, Act IV. Sc. VII.: “Break not your sleeps for that.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, folio 1598, p. 241: “My sleeps were inquired after, and my wakings never unsaluted.” Malone.

Note return to page 464 1&lblank; what doth ensue, But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; And, at their heels, &c.] The old copy reads—And at her heels. For this emendation I am answerable. It was originally proposed by Mr. Heath. It must first be observed, that in the English manuscripts of our author's time the pronouns were generally expressed by abbreviations. In this very play we have already seen their printed for her (Act IV. Sc. I.) which has been rightly corrected— “Among my wife and their confederates.” In order to connect melancholy with the word her in the fourth line, Mr. Steevens enclosed the third line “kinsman,” &c. in a parenthesis: but no such parenthesis is found in the old copy; a circumstance which I consider as adding support to the reading which I have adopted; because it hence should seem that the poet meant that the “huge infectious troop of pale distemperatures, and foes to life,” were the attendants, not solely on moody melancholy, but also on grim despair, and of course that he must have written their in the following line. The difficulty with respect to the word kinsman, seems to have arisen from its being understood in so strict a sense. Shakspeare, I conceive, with his usual laxity, employed this word as signifying merely akin, or related to; and considered in this way, the whole passage is sufficiently clear. Mr. Ritson, who also thinks that kinsman is to be understood in the sense above-mentioned, observes, that in The Merchant of Venice there is a similar confusion of genders: “&lblank; But now I was the lord “Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, “Queen o'er myself?” But there is no confusion of genders in the passage before us, if the foregoing interpretation be just, and the reading (their) which I have adopted be right: nor is there any in the passage quoted from The Merchant of Venice; for there the words lord and master are not to be understood in their strict and masculine sense, if I may use that phrase, but, metaphorically, lord for owner, and master for governor or ruler: and, in like manner, kinsman in the present passage, may be understood without any reference to gender, merely as meaning nearly related. Malone. Shakspeare could never make melancholy a male in this line, and a female in the next. This was the foolish insertion of the first editors. I have, therefore, put it into hooks, as spurious. Warburton. The defective metre of the second line, is a plain proof that some dissyllable word hath been dropped there. I think it therefore probable our poet may have written: “Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, “But moody [moping] and dull melancholy, “Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair? “And at their heels a huge infectious troop—” Heath. it has been observed to me that Mr. Capell reads: “But moody and dull melancholy, kins— “woman to grim and comfortless despair; Yet, though the Roman language may allow of such transfers from the end of one verse to the beginning of the next, the custom is unknown to English poetry, unless it be of the burlesque kind. It is too like Homer Travesty: “&lblank; On this, Agam— “memnon began to curse and damn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 465 2&lblank; a formal man again:] i. e. to bring him back to his senses, and the forms of sober behaviour. So, in Measure for Measure,—“informal women,” for just the contrary. Steevens.

Note return to page 466 3The place of death &lblank;] The original copy has—depth. Mr. Rowe made the emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 467 4&lblank; sorry execution,] So, in Macbeth: “Of sorriest fancies your companions making.” Sorry had anciently a stronger meaning than at present. Thus, in Chaucer's Prologue to the Sompnoures Tale, v. 7283, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition: “This Frere, whan he loked had his fill “Upon the turments of this sory place.” Again, in The Knightes Tale, where the temple of Mars is described: “All full of chirking was that sory place.” Again, in the ancient MS. Romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, &c. “It was done as the kinge c&obar;maunde   “His soule was fet to helle “To daunse in that sory lande   “With develes that wer ful felle.” Steevens. Thus, Macbeth looking on his bloody hands after the murder of Duncan: “This is a sorry sight.” Henley. Mr. Douce is of opinion, that sorry, in the text, is put for sorrowful. Steevens. The word dismal, I conceive, fully expresses what is meant by sorry here. Malone.

Note return to page 468 5Whom I made lord of me and all I had, At your important letters,] Important seems to be used for importunate. Johnson. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “If the Prince be too important, tell him there is a measure in every thing.” Malone. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; great France “My mourning and important tears hath pitied.” Again, in George Whetstone's Castle of Delight, 1576: “&lblank; yet won by importance accepted his courtesie.” Shakspeare, who gives to all nations the customs of his own, seems from this passage to allude to a court of wards in Ephesus. The court of wards was always considered as a grievous oppression. It is glanced at as early as in the old morality of Hycke Scorner: “&lblank; these ryche men ben unkinde: “Wydowes do curse lordes and gentyllmen, “For they contrayne them to marry with their men; “Ye, wheder they wyll or no.” Steevens. In the passage before us, Shakspeare was thinking particularly on the interest which the king had in England in the marriage of his wards, who were the heirs of his tenants holding by knight's service, or in capite, and were under age; an interest which Queen Elizabeth in Shakspeare's time exerted on all occasions, as did her successors till the abolition of the Court of Wards and Liveries; the poet attributes to the Duke the same right to choose a wife or a husband for his wards at Ephesus. Malone.

Note return to page 469 6&lblank; to take order &lblank;] i. e. to take measures. So, in Othello, Act V: “Honest lago hath ta'en order for it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 470 7&lblank; by what strong escape,] Though strong is not unintelligible, I once suspected that we should read—strange. The two words are often confounded in the old copies. But I am now satisfied that the text is right. Malone. A strong escape, I suppose, means an escape effected by strength or violence. Steevens.

Note return to page 471 8And, with his mad attendant and himself,] We should read: &lblank; mad himself. Warburton. We might read: And here his mad attendant and himself. Yet, as Mr. Ritson observes, the meeting to which Adriana alludes, not having happened before the abbey, we may more properly suppose our author wrote— And then his mad attendant and himself. Steevens. Here we have another attempt to re-write our author's plays; but these efforts at emendation are wholly unnecessary. Though our poet has expressed himself loosely, he plainly meant to say, that Antipholus broke loose: and his mad servant and himself, being full of ire and furnished with drawn swords, they met Adriana, &c. The text, I have no doubt, is what the author intended it to be. Malone.

Note return to page 472 9My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids &lblank;] Here our authour has fallen into a slight inaccuracy; for he should have written have instead of are in the first of these lines, which would have governed both broke and beaten. But I suspect no errour of the press. Malone.

Note return to page 473 1Beaten the maids a-row,] i. e. successively, one after another. So, in Chaucer's Wife of Bathes Tale, v. 6836, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition: “A thousand time a-row he gan hire kisse.” Again, in Turberville's translation of Ovid's Epistle from Penelope to Ulysses: &lblank; and drawes with wine “The Troian tentes arowe.” Steevens. Again, in Hormanni Vulgaria, p. 288: “I shall tell thee arowe all that I sawe.” “Ordine tibi visa omnia exponam.” Douce.

Note return to page 474 2Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;] Such a ludicrous circumstance is not unworthy of the farce in which we find it introduced; but it is rather out of place in an epick poem, amidst all the horrors and carnage of a battle: “Obvius ambustum torrem Corinæus ab ara “Corripit, et venienti Ebuso, plagamque ferenti, “Occupat os flammis: Illi ingens barba reluxit, “Nidoremque ambusta dedit.” Virg. Æneis, lib. xii. Steevens. Shakspeare was a great reader of Plutarch, where he might have seen this method of shaving in the Life of Dion, p. 167, 4to. See North's translation, in which &grasa;&grn;&grq;&grr;&gra;&grk;&gre;&grst; may be translated brands. S. Weston. North gives it thus—“with a hot burning cole to burne his goodly bush of heare rounde about.” Steevens. Phaer's translation of Virgil, 1584, however, has the word which Mr. Weston was in quest of: “Sir Chorince a flaming brond from of the aultar caught, “And to Ebasus cumming fast, whilst he prepar'd to fight, “Into his face the brond he forst, his huge beare breast a light, “And sweating made a stinke.”

Note return to page 475 3My master preaches patience to him, and the while &lblank;] Mr. Steevens, conformably to the canon which he laid down that Shakspeare wrote always heroick or ten syllable verses, has ejected two words here, and reads: “My master preaches patience to him, while,” &c. But our poet has many other alexandrines; and therefore the text is certainly right. Malone.

Note return to page 476 4His man with scissars nicks him like a fool:] The force of this allusion I am unable to explain with certainty. Perhaps it was once the custom to cut the hair of idiots close to their heads. There is a proverbial simile—“Like crop the conjuror;” which might have been ironically applied to these unfortunate beings. Steevens. There is a penalty of ten shillings in one of King Alfred's ecclesiastical laws, if one opprobriously shave a common man like a fool. Tollet. Fools, undoubtedly, were shaved and nicked in a particular manner, in our author's time, as is ascertained by the following passage in The Choice of Change, containing the Triplicitie of Divinitie, Philosophie, and Poetrie, by S. R. Gent. 4to. 1598: “Three things used by monks, which provoke other men to laugh at their follies. 1. They are shaven and notched on the head, like fooles.” See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598, in v. “Zuccone. A shaven pate, a notted poule; a poul-pate; a gull, a ninnie. Malone. The hair of idiots is still cut close to their heads, to prevent the consequences of uncleanliness. Ritson.

Note return to page 477 5To scorch your face,] We should read—scotch, i. e. hack, cut. Warburton. To scorch, I believe, is right. He would have punished her as he had punished the conjurer before. Steevens.

Note return to page 478 6When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life;] This act of friendship is frequently mentioned in these plays. Thus, in K. Henry VI. Part III. (the passage is Shakspeare's, not being found in the original drama:) “&lblank; My noble father, “Three times to day I holp him to his horse, “Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off.” So also Falstaff, K. Henry IV. Part I.: “Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so: it is an act of friendship.” Malone.

Note return to page 479 7&lblank; with harlots &lblank;] Antipholus did not suspect his wife of having entertained courtezans, but of having been confederate with cheats to impose on him and abuse him. Therefore, he says to her, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; are these your customers? “Did this companion with the saffron face “Revel and feast it at my house to-day?” By this description he points out Pinch and his followers. Harlot was a term of reproach applied to cheats among men as well as to wantons among women. Thus, in The Fox, Corbachio says to Volpone— “&lblank; Out harlot!” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; for the harlot king “Is quite beyond mine arm.” Again, in the ancient mystery of Candlemas-Day, 1512, Herod says to Watkin—“Nay, harlott, abyde stylle with my knyghts I warne the.”. The learned editor of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 5 vols. 8vo. 1775, observes, that in The Romaunt of the Rose, v. 6068, King of Harlots is Chaucer's translation of Roy des ribaulx. Chaucer uses the word more than once: “A sturdy harlot went hem ay behind, “That was hir hostes man,” &c. Sompnoures Tale, v. 7336. Again, in The Dyers' Play, among the Chester Collection, in the Museum, Antichrist says to the male characters on the stage— “Out on ye harlots, whence come ye?” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 8&lblank; I am advised &lblank;] i. e. I am not going to speak precipitately or rashly, but on reflection and consideration. Steevens.

Note return to page 481 9Neither disturbed with the effect of wine,] In printing this line I have exactly followed the old copy; we find disturbed printed at full without any ellipsis. It is a great mistake to suppose that the punctuation of the folio 1623 is of no value; for though it is sometimes faulty, it is as well pointed in general as the other books of that age; and in such cases as the present is of great use; for printers never abbreviate words by their own authority; and therefore when we find a word abbreviated, as disturb'd, we may be pretty certain that it was so exhibited in the manuscript transmitted to the press; and vice versâ, when the word is written without any mark of abbreviation. On this subject I shall have occasion to say more hereafter. The present line is perfectly metrical, as exhibited in the old copy; for the words—the effect, are considered as making but two syllables, according to the usual licence of poetry. Malone.

Note return to page 482 1A living dead man:] This thought appears to have been borrowed from Sackvil's Induction to The Mirror for Magistrates: “&lblank; but as a lyuing death, “So ded aliue of life hee drew the breath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 483 2I think, you all have drunk of Circe's cup.] The Duke means to say, I think you all are out of your senses; so below: “I think you are all mated, or stark mad.” Circe's potion, however, though it transformed the companions of Ulysses into swine, and deprived them of speech, did not, it should seem, deprive them of their reason; for Homer tells us that they lamented their transformation. However, the Duke's words are sufficiently intelligible, if we consider them as meaning— Methinks you all are become as irrational as beasts. Malone.

Note return to page 484 3&lblank; mated,] See p. 206, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 485 4And careful hours] i. e. hours of distress and sorrow. So Spenser, in his eleventh Pastoral. “O careful verse.” Malone.

Note return to page 486 5&lblank; deformed &lblank;] for deforming. Steevens.

Note return to page 487 6&lblank; strange defeatures &lblank;] Defeature is the privative of feature. The meaning is—time hath cancelled my features. Johnson. Defeature is, I think, alteration of feature, marks of deformity. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; to cross the curious workmanship of nature, “To mingle beauty with infirmities, “And pure perfection with impure defeature.” Malone.

Note return to page 488 7Ay, sir? &c.] It is marvellous that Mr. Steevens did not endeavour with a few supplemental syllables to twist this speech into verse. It proves, what I have frequently had occasion to observe, that our author often mixes short speeches of prose in the midst of verse. Malone.

Note return to page 489 8&lblank; you are now bound to believe him.] Dromio is still quibbling on his favourite topick. See p. 162. Malone.

Note return to page 490 9&lblank; my feeble key of untun'd cares?] i. e. the weak and discordant tone of my voice, that is changed by grief. Douce.

Note return to page 491 1&lblank; this grained face &lblank;] i. e. furrow'd, like the grain of wood. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; my grained ash.” Steevens.

Note return to page 492 2All these old witnesses (I cannot err)] —I believe should be read: “All these hold witnesses I cannot err.” i. e. all these continue to testify that I cannot err, and tell me, &c. Warburton. The old reading is the true one, as well as the most poetical, The words I cannot err, should be thrown into a parenthesis. By old witnesses, I believe, he means experienced, accustomed ones, which are therefore less likely to err. So, in The Tempest: “If these be true spies that I wear in my head,” &c. Again, in Titus Andronicus, Sc. ult: “But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, “Grave witnesses of true experience,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 3If I dream not,] In the old copy this speech of Ægeon, and the subsequent one of the Abbess, follow the speech of the Duke, beginning with the words—“Why, here,” &c. Mr. Steevens recommended that the speech of the Duke and Ægeon should change places; but it was necessary that both the speech of Ægeon and that of the Abbess should precede that of the Duke; and accordingly I made that transposition in my former edition; which requires no justification. Ægeon's answer to Æmilia's adjuration would necessarily immediately succeeded to it. Besides, as Mr. Steevens has observed, as these speeches stand in the old copy, the Duke comments on Æmilia's words before she has uttered them: The slight change now made renders the whole clear. Malone.

Note return to page 494 4Why, here begins his morning story right:] “The morning story” is what Ægeon tells the Duke in the first scene of this play. Holt White.

Note return to page 495 5&lblank; semblance,—] Is here a trisyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 496 6Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,—] I suspect that a line following this has been lost; the import of which was, that: “These circumstances all concur to prove, “These are the parents,” &c. The line which I suppose to have been lost, beginning, if my conjecture be right, with the same word, (these,) the omission may have been occasioned by the compositor's eye, after the first these was composed, glancing on the other, by which the former line was lost. This is an errour that often happens at the press. Malone.

Note return to page 497 7&lblank; children,] This plural is here used as a trisyllable. So, in Chapman's version of the sixteenth Iliad: “Abhor'd Chimæra; and such bane now caught his childeren.” Again, in the fourth Iliad: “&lblank; sometimes childeren “May with discretion plant themselves against their fathers' wills.” Again, in the sixth Iliad: “Yet had he one surviv'd to him of those three childeren.” Steevens.

Note return to page 498 8Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons; until this present hour My heavy burden not delivered:—] That for this long period of twenty-five years, I have been only in labour, my heavy burden not being delivered till this present hour. The original copy 1623, exhibits the passage thus: “Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail, “Of you my sons, and till this present hour “My heavy burthen are delivered.” The passage is manifestly corrupt; and the clumsy manner in which it is amended, is attributable to the ignorance of the reviser of the second folio, 1532, who proceeded in his usual manner; for finding a verb in the plural are, following a substantive in the singular number, he concluded that the error must have been in the substantive burthen, for which he substituted burthens; thus curing the false grammar, but leaving the passage as unintelligible as he found it. Thus, in The Winter's Tale, finding “I am appointed him to murder you;” and not liking this offence against grammar, (him for he,) he printed “I have appointed him to murder you;” thus entirely departing from the author's meaning, and making the passage absolute nonsense. Nor was the reviser of that edition contented with leaving the passage in this state; he did more; for instead of reading with the original copy—have I but gone in travail, he substituted—have I been gone in travail; rejecting a very principal word in the sentence, but, which was inserted by the author more emphatically to mark that Æmilia, during the long period mentioned, had been only in travail, not having attained to parturition till that hour. Now that there was no error in the word burden, as he supposed, appears from two other passages in this play. Thus, in the present scene: “Thou hadst a wife once, called Æmilia, “That at a burden bore thee two fair sons.” Again, more appositely, in the first act, where Ægeon is speaking of the two Dromios: “That very hour, and in the self-same inn, “A poor mean woman was delivered “Of such a burden, male twins both alike.” It is manifest therefore, that the reading of the original copy burden is right, and it necessarily follows, from that circumstance alone, that the word are is a misprint; to say nothing of its rendering the passage perfectly unintelligible. It is equally clear, that a negative was requisite here before the word delivered, because the import of Æmilia's words is, that she was not delivered of her burthen till that hour. I have therefore not hesitated to print not instead of are. The general assertion that she had been twenty-five years in labour, having been made in the first clause, the latter member of the sentence naturally is thrown into the ablative case absolute, my heavy burden not being delivered till now. In the preceding line I have printed until instead of and till, a very happy emendation which was suggested to me by Mr. Boaden. I have no doubt that it is the true reading. The change is extremely slight; and the error might very easily have happened. In King John, Act III. Sc. I. we meet with the converse of this error. There we find, “a new untrimmed bride,” printed for “a new and trimmed bride,” as I think I have shewn on indisputable evidence. See the note there. Mr. Theobald, without adverting to the original reading, burden, endeavoured to make some sense of the passage by reading, “Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail “Of you my sons; nor till this present hour “My heavy burdens are delivered.” In all emendations it is, in my apprehension, of importance to shew how the error which is to be corrected may have arisen; and it is a great addition to the concinnity of an emendation that it is made with as little violence to the text as possible. On these grounds, the present regulation of this evidently corrupt and embarrassed passage will, I trust, abide a very strict examination. Malone. In former editions: Thirty-three years. 'Tis impossible the poet should be so forgetful, as to design this number here; and therefore I have ventured to alter it to twenty-five, upon a proof, that, I think, amounts to demonstration. The number, I presume, was at first wrote in figures, and, perhaps, blindly; and thence the mistake might arise. Ægeon, in the first scene of the first act, is precise as to the time his son left him, in quest of his brother: “My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, “At eighteen years became inquisitive “After his brother;” &c. And how long it was from the son's thus parting from his father, to their meeting again at Ephesus, where Ægeon, mistakenly, recognises the twin-brother for him, we as precisely learn from another passage, in the fifth act: “Æg. But seven years since, in Syracusa bay, “Thou know'st we parted;—” So that these two numbers, put together, settle the date of their birth beyond dispute. Theobald.

Note return to page 499 9And you the calendars of their nativity,] The Abbess here addresses herself to the two Dromios, whom she denominates the calendar of the nativity of her sons, because she ascertained with as much precision as a calendar, the time when her sons were born, the twin Dromios having been born on the same day with their masters. So, in Act. I. Sc. II. Antipholus of Syracuse, on Dromio of Ephesus coming to him, (whom he mistakes for his own servant,) says: “Here comes the almanack of my true date.” Malone.

Note return to page 500 1&lblank; and go with me;] We should read: &lblank; and gaude with me; i. e. rejoice, from the French, gaudir. Warburton. The sense is clear enough without the alteration. The Revisal offers to read, more plausibly, I think: &lblank; joy with me. Dr. Warburton's conjecture may, however, be countenanced by the following passage in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540:—“I have good cause to set the cocke on the hope, and make gaudye chere.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. XI.: “Let's have one other gaudy night.” In the novel of M. Alberto, of Bologna, the author adviseth gentlewomen “to beware how they contrive their holiday talke, by waste wordes issuing forth their delicate mouths in carping, gauding, and jesting at young gentlemen, and speciallye old men,” &c. Palace of Pleasure, 1582, vol. i. fol. 60. Steevens.

Note return to page 501 2After so long grief such nativity!] We should surely read— such festivity. Nativity lying so near, and the termination being the same of both words, the mistake was easy. Johnson. The old reading may be right. She has just said, that to her, her sons were not born till now. Steevens. Assuredly the old copy is right. Malone.

Note return to page 502 3On a careful revision of the foregoing scenes, I do not hesitate to pronounce them the composition of two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had undoubtedly a share in them; but that the entire play was no work of his, is an opinion which, (as Benedick says,) “fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake.” Thus, as we are informed by Aulus Gellius, lib. iii. cap. 3, some plays were absolutely ascribed to Plautus, which in truth had only been (retractatæ et expolitæ) retouched and polished by him. In this comedy we find more intricacy of plot than distinction of character; and our attention is less forcibly engaged, because we can guess in great measure how the denoüement will be brought about. Yet the subject appears to have been reluctantly dismissed, even in this last and unnecessary scene, where the same mistakes are continued, till their power of affording entertainment is entirely lost. Steevens. On the present occasion, Mr. Steevens appears to have merely followed the example of Maximin: “And all this I can do because I dare.” It were to be wished that the critick had assigned some reasons for his opinion. Not having done so, I can only oppose to this peremptory decision an opinion no less confidently entertained, that the whole of the present comedy was written by Shakspeare. See the Preliminary Remarks. The long doggrel verses that Shakspeare has attributed in this play to the two Dromios, are written in that kind of metre which was usually attributed by the dramatick poets before his time, in their comick pieces, to some of their inferior characters; and this circumstance is one of many that authorize us to place the preceding comedy, as well as Love's Labour's Lost, and The Taming of the Shrew, (where the same kind of versification is likewise found,) among our author's earliest productions; composed probably at a time when he was imperceptibly infected with the prevailing mode, and before he had completely learned “to deviate boldly from the common track.” As these early pieces are now not easily met with, I shall subjoin a few extracts from some of them: Like Will to Like. 1568. “Royst. If your name to me you will declare and showe, “You may in this matter my minde the sooner knowe. “Tos. Few wordes are best among freends, this is true, “Wherefore I shall briefly show my name unto you. “Tom Tospot it is, it need not to be painted, “Wherefore I with Raife Roister must needs be acquainted,” &c. Commons Conditions. [About 1570.] “Shift. By gogs bloud, my maisters, we were not best longer here to staie, “I thinke was never such a craftie knave before this daie. [Ex. Ambo. “Cond. Are thei all gone? Ha, ha, well fare old Shift at a neede: “By his woundes had I not devised this, I had hanged indeed. “Tinkers, (qd you) tinke me no tinkes; I'll meddle with them no more; “I thinke was never knave so used by a companie of tinkers before. “By your leave I'll be so bolde as to looke about me and spie, “Lest any knaves for my coming down in ambush do lie. “By your licence I minde not to preache longer in this tree, “My tinkerly slaves are packed hence, as farre as I maie see;” &c. Promos and Cassandra. 1578. “The wind is yl blows no man's gaine; for cold I neede not care, “Here is nine and twentie sutes of apparel for my share: “And some, berlady, very good, for so standeth the case, “As neither gentleman nor other Lord Promos sheweth any grace; “But I marvel much, poore slaves, that they are hanged so soone, “They were wont to staye a day or two, now scarce an afternoone;” &c. The Three Ladies of London. 1584. “You think I am going to market to buy rost meate, do ye not? “I thought so, but you are deceived, for I wot what I wot: “I am neither going to the butchers, to buy veale, mutton, or beefe, “But I am going to a bloodsucker, and who is it? faith Usurie, that theefe.” The Cobler's Prophecy. 1594. “Quoth Niceness to Newfangle, thou art such a Jacke, “That thou devisest fortie fashions for my ladie's backe. “And thou, quoth he, art so possest with everie frantick toy, “That following of my ladie's humour thou dost make her coy, “For once a day for fashion-sake my lady must be sicke, “No meat but mutton, or at most the pinion of a chicke: “To-day her owne haire best becomes, which yellow is as gold, “A periwig is better for to-morrow, blacke to behold: “To day in pumps and cheveril gloves to walk she will be bold, “To-morrow cuffes and countenance, for feare of catching cold: “Now is she barefast to be seene, straight on her mufler goes; “Now is she hufft up to the crowne, straight nusled to the nose.” See also Gammer Gurton's Needle, Damon and Pythias, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 503 1This enumeration of the persons was made by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 504 2Berowne in the old editions throughout. Boswell.

Note return to page 505 3&lblank; your deep oath,] The old copies have—oaths. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 506 *Folio, bankerout, omitting quite.

Note return to page 507 4With all these living in philosophy.] The style of the rhyming scenes in this play is often entangled and obscure. I know not certainly to what all these is to be referred; I suppose he means, that he finds love, pomp, and wealth in philosophy. Johnson. By all these, Dumain means the King, Biron, &c. to whom he may be supposed to point, and with whom he is going to live in philosophical retirement. A. C.

Note return to page 508 5Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.] The words as they stand, will express the meaning intended, if pointed thus: Not to see ladies—study—fast—not sleep. Biron is recapitulating the several tasks imposed upon him, viz. not to see ladies, to study, to fast, and not to sleep: but Shakspeare, by a common poetical licence, though in this passage injudiciously exercised, omits the article to, before the three last verbs, and from hence the obscurity arises. M. Mason.

Note return to page 509 6When I to feast expressly am forbid;] The copies all have: “When I to fast expressly am forbid;” But if Biron studied where to get a good dinner, at a time when he was forbid to fast, how was this studying to know what he was forbid to know? Common sense, and the whole tenour of the context, require us to read—feast, or to make a change in the last word of the verse:—“When I to fast expressly am fore-bid;” i. e. when I am enjoined before-hand to fast. Theobald.

Note return to page 510 7If study's gain be thus, and this be so,] Read: If study's gain be this—. Ritson.

Note return to page 511 8&lblank; while truth the while Doth falsely blind &lblank;] Falsely is here, and in many other places, the same as dishonestly or treacherously. The whole sense of this gingling declamation is only this, that a man by too close study may read himself blind; which might have been told with less obscurity in fewer words. Johnson.

Note return to page 512 9Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that it was blinded by.] This is another passage unnecessarily obscure: the meaning is; that when he dazzles, that is, has his eye made weak, by fixing his eye upon a fairer eye, that fairer eye shall be his heed, his direction or lodestar, (See Midsummer-Night's Dream,) and give him light that was blinded by it. Johnson. Mr. Steevens proposes to read was it, but unnecessarily; it re- to the first eye mentioned. Boswell.

Note return to page 513 1Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name.] The consequence, says Biron, of too much knowledge, is not any real solution of doubts, but mere empty reputation. That is, too much knowledge gives only fame, a name which every godfather can give likewise. Johnson.

Note return to page 514 2Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!] To proceed is an academical term, meaning, to take a degree, as he proceeded bachelor in physick. The sense is, he has taken his degrees in the art of hindering the degrees of others. Johnson. So, in a quotation by Dr. Farmer: “&lblank; such as practise to proceed in all evil wise, till from Batchelors in Newgage, by degrees they proceed to be Maisters, and by desert be preferred at Tyborne.” I cannot ascertain the book from which this passage was transcribed. Steevens. I don't suspect that Shakspeare had any academical term in contemplation, when he wrote this line. He has proceeded well, means only, he has gone on well. M. Mason.

Note return to page 515 3&lblank; sneaping frost,] So, sneaping winds in the Winter's Tale: To sneap is to check, to rebuke. Thus also, Falstaff, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “I will not undergo this sneap, without reply.” Steevens.

Note return to page 516 4Why should I joy in an abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose, Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows; But like of each thing, that in season grows.] As the greatest part of this scene (both what precedes and follows) is strictly in rhymes, either successive, alternate, or triple, I am persuaded, that the copyists have made a slip here. For by making a triplet of the three last lines quoted, birth in the close of the first line is quite destitute of any rhyme to it. Besides, what a displeasing identity of sound recurs in the middle and close of this verse: “Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;” Again, new-fangled shows seems to have very little propriety. The flowers are not new-fangled; but the earth is new-fangled by the profusion and variety of the flowers, that spring on its bosom in May. I have therefore ventured to substitute earth, in the close of the third line, which restores the alternate measure. It was very easy for a negligent transcriber to be deceived by the rhyme immediately preceding; so mistake the concluding word in the sequent line, and corrupt it into one that would chime with the other. Theobald. I rather suspect a line to have been lost after “an abortive birth.” For an in that line the old copies have any. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone. By these shows the poet means May-games, at which a snow would be very unwelcome and unexpected. It is only a periphrasis for May. T. Warton. I have no doubt that the more obvious interpretation is the true one. So, in Chaucer's Knightes Tale: “And fresher than the May with floures new &lblank;.” So also, in our poet's King Richard II.: “She came adorned hither, like sweet May.” i. e. as the ground is in that month enamelled by the gay diversity of flowers which the spring produces. Again, in The Destruction of Troy, 1619: “At the entry of the month of May, when the earth is attired and adorned with diverse flowers,” &c. Malone. I concur with Mr. Warton; for with what propriety can the flowers which every year produces with the same identical shape and colours, be called—new-fangled? The sports of May might be annually diversified, but its natural productions would be invariably the same. Steevens.

Note return to page 517 5Climb o'er the house, &c.] This is the reading of the quarto, 1598, and much preferable to that of the folio: “That were to climb o'er the house to unlock the gate.” Malone.

Note return to page 518 6&lblank; sit you out:] This may mean, hold you out, continue refractory. But I suspect, we should read—set you out. Malone. To sit out, is a term from the card-table. Thus, Bishop Sanderson: “They are glad, rather than sit out, to play very small game.” The person who cuts out at a rubber of whist, is still said to sit out; i. e. to be no longer engaged in the party. Steevens. The first folio reads fit you out, which may mean—prepare for your journey. Boswell.

Note return to page 519 *Folio and 4to. sworne.

Note return to page 520 †Folio and 4to. strictest.

Note return to page 521 7Who devis'd this?] The old copies read—this penalty. I have omitted this needless repetition of the word penalty, because it destroys the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 522 8A dangerous law against gentility!] I have ventured to prefix the name of Biron to this line, it being evident, for two reasons, that it, by some accident or other, slipt out of the printed books. In the first place, Longaville confesses, he had devised the penalty: and why he should immediately arraign it as a dangerous law, seems to be very inconsistent. In the next place, it is much more natural for Biron to make this reflection, who is cavilling at every thing; and then for him to pursue his reading over the remaining articles.—As to the word gentility, here, it does not signify that rank of people called, gentry; but what the French express by, gentilesse, i. e. elegantia, urbanitas. And then the meaning is this: Such a law for banishing women from the court, is dangerous, or injurious, to politeness, urbanity, and the more refined pleasures of life. For men without women would turn brutal, and savage, in their natures and behaviour. Theobald.

Note return to page 523 *First folio, shall.

Note return to page 524 9&lblank; lie here &lblank;] Means reside here, in the same sense as an ambassador is said to lie leiger. See Beaumont and Fletcher's Love's Cure, or the Martial Maid, Act II. Sc. II.: “Or did the cold Muscovite beget thee, “That lay here lieger, in the last great frost?” Again, in Sir Henry Wotton's Definition: “An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie (i. e. reside) abroad for the good of his country.” Reed.

Note return to page 525 1Not by might master'd, but by special grace:] Biron, amidst his extravagancies, speaks with great justness against the folly of vows. They are made without sufficient regard to the variations of life, and are therefore broken by some unforeseen necessity. They proceed commonly from a presumptuous confidence, and a false estimate of human power. Johnson.

Note return to page 526 *First folio, break.

Note return to page 527 2Suggestions &lblank;] Temptations. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “And these led on by your suggestion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 528 3&lblank; quick recreation &lblank;] Lively sport, spritely diversion. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the quick comedians “Extemporally will stage us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 529 *Folio and 4to. who.

Note return to page 530 4A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:] As very bad a play as this is, it was certainly Shakspeare's, as appears by many fine master-strokes scattered up and down. An excessive complaisance is here admirably painted, in the person of one who was willing to make even right and wrong friends; and to persuade the one to recede from the accustomed stubbornness of her nature, and wink at the liberties of her opposite, rather than he would incur the imputation of ill-breeding in keeping up the quarrel. And as our author, and Jonson his contemporary, are confessedly the two greatest writers in the drama that our nation could ever boast of, this may be no improper occasion to take notice of one material difference between Shakspeare's worst plays and the other's. Our author owed all to his prodigious natural genius; and Jonson most to his acquired parts and learning. This, if attended to, will explain the difference we speak of. Which is this, that, in Jonson's bad pieces, we do not discover the least traces of the author of the Fox and Alchemist; but in the wildest and most extravagant notes of Shakspeare, you every now and then encounter strains that recognize their divine composer. And the reason is this, that Jonson owing his chief excellence to art, by which he sometimes strained himself to an uncommon pitch, when he unbent himself, had nothing to support him; but fell below all likeness of himself; while Shakspeare, indebted more largely to nature than the other to his acquired talents, could never, in his most negligent hours, so totally divest himself of his genius, but that it would frequently break out with amazing force and splendour. Warburton. This passage, I believe, means no more than that Don Armado was a man nicely versed in ceremonial distinctions, one who could distinguish in the most delicate questions of honour the exact boundaries of right and wrong. Compliment, in Shakspeare's time, did not signify, at least did not only signify verbal civility, or phrases of courtesy, but according to its original meaning, the trappings, or ornamental appendages of a character, in the same manner, and on the same principles of speech with accomplishment. Complement is, as Armado well expresses it, the varnish of a complete man. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's opinion may be supported by the following passage in Lingua, or The Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority, 1607:—“after all fashions and of all colours, with rings, jewels, a fan, and in every other place, odd complements.” And again, by the title-page to Richard Braithwaite's English Gentlewoman: “drawne out to the full body, expressing what habiliments doe best attire her; what ornaments doe best adorne her; and what complements doe best accomplish her.” Again, in p. 59, we are told that “complement hath been anciently defined, and so successively retained;—a no lesse reall than formall accomplishment.” Again, in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: “&lblank; she reacht Achilles tent “Found him still sighing; and some friends, with all their complements “Soothing his humour.” Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; adorned with the exactest complements belonging to everlasting nobleness.” Steevens. Thus, in Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio calls Tybalt, “the Captain of complements.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 531 5This child of fancy,] This fantastick. The expression, in another sense, has been adopted by Milton in his L'Allegro: “Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 532 6That Armado hight,] Who is called Armado. Malone.

Note return to page 533 7From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.] i. e. he shall relate to us the celebrated stories recorded in the old romances, and in their very style. Why he says from tawny Spain is, because those romances, being of Spanish original, the heroes and the scene were generally of that country. Why he says, lost in the world's debate is, because the subject of those romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. Warburton. I have suffered this note to hold its place, though Mr. Tyrwhitt has shewn that it is wholly unfounded, because Dr. Warburton refers to it in his dissertation at the end of this play. Malone. The world seems to be used in a monastick sense by the king, now devoted for a time to a monastic life. In the world, in seculo, in the bustle of human affairs, from which we are now happily sequestred, in the world, to which the votaries of solitude have no relation. Johnson. Warburton's interpretation is clearly preferable to that of Johnson. The King had not yet so weaned himself from the world, as to adopt the language of a cloister. M. Mason.

Note return to page 534 8And I will use him for my minstrelsy.] i. e. I will make a minstrel of him, whose occupation was to relate fabulous stories. Douce.

Note return to page 535 9&lblank; fire-new words,] “i. e. (says an intelligent writer in the Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786,) words newly coined, new from the forge. Fire-new, new off the irons, and the Scottish expression bren-new, have all the same origin.” The same compound epithet occurs in King Richard III.: “Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.” Steevens. The first folio reads this line— “A man of fire, new words, fashions own knight.” Boswell.

Note return to page 536 1Which is the duke's own person?] The king of Navarre in several passages, through all the copies, is called the duke: but as this must have sprung rather from the inadvertence of the editors than a forgetfulness in the poet, I have every where, to avoid confusion, restored king to the text. Theobald. The princess in the next act calls the king—“this virtuous duke;” a word which, in our author's time, seems to have been used with great laxity. And indeed, though this were not the case, such a fellow as Costard may well be supposed ignorant of his true title. Malone. I have followed the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 537 *4to. Farborough.

Note return to page 538 2&lblank; tharborough:] i. e. Thirdborough, a peace officer, alike in authority with a headborough or a constable. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 539 3A high hope for a low having:] In old editions: “A high hope for a low heaven:” A low heaven, sure, is a very intricate matter to conceive. I dare warrant, I have retrieved the poet's true reading; and the meaning is this: “Though you hope for high words, and should have them, it will be but a low acquisition at best.” This our poet calls a low having: and it is a substantive which he uses in several other passages. Theobald. It is so employed in Macbeth, Act I.: “&lblank; great prediction “Of noble having, and of royal hope.” Heaven, however, may be the true reading, in allusion to the gradations of happiness promised by Mohammed to his followers. So, in the comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Oh, how my soul is rapt to a third heaven!” Steevens.

Note return to page 540 4To hear? or forbear hearing?] One of the modern editors, plausibly enough, reads: “To hear? or forbear laughing?” Malone.

Note return to page 541 5&lblank; as the style shall give us cause to climb &lblank;] A quibble between the stile that must be climbed to pass from one field to another, and style, the term expressive of manner of writing in regard to language. Steevens.

Note return to page 542 6&lblank; taken with the manner.] i. e. in the fact. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “&lblank; and, being taken with the manner, had nothing to say for himself.” Steevens. A forensick term. A thief is said to be taken with the manner, i. e. mainour or manour, (for so it is written in our old law-books,) when he is apprehended with the thing stolen in his possession. The thing that he has taken was called mainour, from the French manier, manu tractare. Malone.

Note return to page 543 7&lblank; but so, so.] The second so was added by Sir T. Hanmer, and adopted by the subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 544 8&lblank; curious-knotted garden:] Ancient gardens abounded with figures of which the lines intersected each other in many directions. Thus, in King Richard II.: “Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, “Her knots disorder'd,” &c. In Thomas Hill's Profitable Art of Gardening, &c. 4to. bl. l. 1579, is the delineation of “a proper knot for a garden, whereas is spare roume enough, the which may be set with Time, or Isop, at the discretion of the Gardener.” In Henry Dethicke's Gardener's Labyrinth, bl. l. 4to. 1586, are other examples of “proper knots deuised for gardens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 545 9&lblank; base minnow of thy mirth,] The base minnow of thy mirth, is the contemptible little object that contributes to thy entertainment. Shakspeare makes Coriolanus characterize the tribunitian insolence of Sicinius, under the same figure: “&lblank; hear you not “This Triton of the minnows!” Again, in Have with You to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is Up, &c. 1596: “Let him denie that there was another shewe made of the little minnow his brother,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 546 1&lblank; with—with, &lblank;] The old copy reads—which with. The correction is Mr. Theobald's. Malone.

Note return to page 547 2&lblank; vessel of thy law's fury;] This seems to be a phrase adopted from Scripture. See Epist. to the Romans, ix. 22: “&lblank; the vessel of wrath.” Mr. M. Mason would read—vassal instead of vessel. Steevens.

Note return to page 548 3I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.] So Falstaff, in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 549 *Quarto throughout, damsel.

Note return to page 550 *First folio omits thee.

Note return to page 551 4&lblank; dear imp.] Imp was anciently a term of dignity. Lord Cromwell, in his last letter to Henry VIII. prays for the imp his son. It is now used only in contempt or abhorrence; perhaps in our author's time it was ambiguous, in which state it suits well with this dialogue. Johnson. Pistol salutes King Henry V. by the same title. Steevens. The word literally means a graff, slip, scion, or sucker: and by metonymy comes to be used for a boy or child. The imp his son, is no more than his infant son. It is now set apart to signify young fiends; as the devil and his imps. Dr. Johnson was mistaken in supposing this a word of dignity. It occurs in The History of Celestina the Faire, 1596: “&lblank; the gentleman had three sonnes, very ungracious impes, and of a wicked nature.” Ritson. The instance produced by Ritson does not prove that imp was not a term of dignity when used without any epithet. The epithet here added, ungracious, marks the degradation intended by the speaker, but proves nothing more. Malone.

Note return to page 552 5&lblank; my tender juvenal?] Juvenal is youth. So, in The Noble Stranger, 1640: “Oh, I could hug thee for this, my jovial juvinell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 553 6&lblank; tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old time,] Here and in two speeches above the old copies have signior, which appears to have been the old spelling of senior. So, in the last scene of The Comedy of Errors, edit. 1623: “We will draw cuts for the signior; till then, lead thou first.” In that play the spelling has been corrected properly by the modern editors, who yet, I know not why, have retained the old spelling in the passage before us. Malone. Old and tough, young and tender, is one of the proverbial phrases collected by Ray. Steevens.

Note return to page 554 *First folio, ingenuous.

Note return to page 555 7&lblank; crosses love not him?] By crosses he means money. So, in As You Like It, the Clown says to Celia: “&lblank; If I should bear you, I should bear no cross.” Johnson.

Note return to page 556 8I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.] Again, in Troïlus and Cressida: “A tapster's arithmetick may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.” Steevens.

Note return to page 557 9And how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.] Bankes's horse, which play'd many remarkable pranks. Sir Walter Raleigh (History of the World, First Part, p. 178,) says, “If Banks had lived in older times, he would have shamed all the inchanters in the world: for whosoever was most famous among them, could never master, or instruct any beast as he did his horse.” And Sir Kenelm Digby (A Treatise on Bodies, ch. xxxviii. p. 393,) observes: “That his horse would restore a glove to the due owner, after the master had whispered the man's name in his ear; would tell the just number of pence in any piece of silver coin, newly showed him by his master; and even obey presently his command, in discharging himself of his excrements, whensoever he had bade him.” Dr. Grey. Bankes's horse is alluded to by many writers contemporary with Shakspeare; among the rest, by Ben Jonson, in Every Man out of his Humour: “He keeps more ado with this monster, than ever Bankes did with his horse.” Again, in Hall's Satires, lib. iv. sat. 2: “More than who vies his pence to view some tricke “Of strange Morocco's dumbe arithmeticke.” Again, in Ben Jonson's 134th Epigram: “Old Banks the jugler, our Pythagoras, “Grave tutor to the learned horse,” &c. The fate of this man and his very docile animal, is not exactly known, and, perhaps, deserves not to be remembered. From the next lines, however, to those last quoted, it should seem as if they had died abroad: “&lblank; Both which “Being, beyond sea, burned for one witch, “Their spirits transmigrated to a cat.” Among the entries at Stationer's Hall is the following; Nov. 14, 1595: “A ballad shewing the strange qualities of a young nagg called Morocco.” Among other exploits of this celebrated beast, it is said that he went up to the top of St. Paul's; and the same circumstance is likewise mentioned in The Guls Horn-booke, a satirical pamphlet by Decker, 1609: “&lblank; From hence you may descend to talk about the horse that went up, and strive, if you can, to know his keeper; take the day of the month, and the number of the steppes, and suffer yourself to believe verily that it was not a horse, but something else in the likeness of one.” Again, in Chrestoloros, or Seven Bookes of Epigrames, written by T. B. [Thomas Bastard] 1598, lib. iii. ep. 17: “Of Bankes's Horse. “Bankes hath a horse of wondrous qualitie, “For he can fight, and pisse, and dance, and lie, “And finde your purse, and tell what coyne ye have: “But Bankes who taught your horse to smell a knave?” Steevens. In 1595, was published a pamphlet entitled, Maroccus Extaticus, or Bankes's Bay Horse in a Trance: A Discourse set downe in a merry Dialogue between Bankes and his Beast: anatomizing some Abuses and bad Trickes of this Age, 4to.: prefixed to which, was a print of the horse standing on his hind legs with a stick in his mouth, his master with a stick in his hand and a pair of dice on the ground. Ben Jonson [in his 134th Epigram] hints at the unfortunate catastrophe of both man and horse, which I find happened at Rome, where to the disgrace of the age, of the country, and of humanity, they were burnt by order of the pope, for magicians. See Don Zara del Fogo, 12mo. 1660, p. 114. Reed. Bankes narrowly escaped in France, as we learn from Bishop Morton's answer to Theophilus Higgins: “Which bringeth into my remembrance a storie which Banks told me at Frankeford, from his own experience in France among the Capuchins, by whom he was brought into suspition of magicke, because of the strange feates which his horse Morocco plaied (as I take it) at Orleance; where he to redeem his credit, promised to manifest to the world that his horse was nothing lesse than a divell. To this end he commanded his horse to seek out one in the preasse of the people, who had a crucifixe on his hat; which done, he bad him kneele downe unto it; and not this only, but also to rise up againe and to kisse it. And now, gentlemen, (quoth he) I think my horse hath acquitted both me and himself; and so his adversaries rested satisfied: conceiving (as it might seeme) that the divell had no power to come neare the crosse.” The best account of Bankes and his horse is to be found (as Mr. Douce observes) in the notes to a French translation of Apuleius's Golden Ass, by Jean De Montlyard Sieur de Milleray, 1602. Boswell. The following representation of Bankes and his Horse, is a facsimile from a rude wooden frontispiece to the pamphlet mentioned by Mr. Reed. Malone.

Note return to page 558 2Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers:] I do not know whether our author alludes to “the rare green eye,” which in his time seems to have been thought a beauty, or to that frequent attendant on love, jealousy, to which, in The Merchant of Venice, and in Othello, he has applied the epithet green-ey'd. Malone. Perhaps Armado neither alludes to green eyes, nor to jealousy; but to the willow, the supposed ornament of unsuccessful lovers: “Sing, all a green willow shall be my garland,” is the burden of an ancient ditty preserved in The Gallery of gorgious Inventions, &c. 4to. 1578. Steevens.

Note return to page 559 3Most maculate thoughts,] So, the first quarto, 1598. The folio has immaculate. To avoid such notes for the future, it may be proper to apprize the reader, that where the reading of the text does not correspond with the folio, without any reason being assigned for the deviation, it is always warranted by the authority of the first quarto. Malone. As this intimation would be of no use to a reader who is not possessed of the first folio, I have marked the variations. Boswell.

Note return to page 560 4For blushing &lblank;] The original copy has—blush in. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 561 5Which native she doth owe.] i. e. of which she is naturally possessed.—To owe is to possess. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the disposition that I owe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 562 6&lblank; the King and the Beggar?] See Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 4th edit. vol. i. p. 198. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 7&lblank; my digression &lblank;] Digression on this occasion signifies the act of going out of the right way, transgression. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, “Digressing from the valour of a man.” Steevens. Again, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; my digression is so vile, so base, “That it will live engraven on my face.” Malone.

Note return to page 564 8&lblank; the rational hind Costard;] Perhaps we should read— the irrational hind, &c. Tyrwhitt. The rational hind, perhaps, means only the reasoning brute, the animal with some share of reason. Steevens. I have always read irrational hind; if hind be taken in its bestial sense, Armado makes Costard a female. Farmer. Shakspeare uses it in its bestial sense in Julius Cæsar, Act I. Sc. III. and as of the masculine gender: “He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I. Sc. III.: “&lblank; you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 565 *First folio, he.

Note return to page 566 9&lblank; for the day-woman.] “i. e. for the dairy-maid. Dairy, says Johnson in his Dictionary, is derived from day, an old word for milk. In the northern counties of Scotland, a dairy-maid is at present termed a day or dey.” Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 567 1That's hereby.] Jaquenetta and Armado are at cross purposes. Hereby is used by her (as among the vulgar in some counties) to signify—as it may happen. He takes it in the sense of just by. Steevens.

Note return to page 568 *First folio, what.

Note return to page 569 2With that face?] This cant phrase has oddly lasted till the present time; and is used by people who have no more meaning annexed to it, than Fielding had; who putting it into the mouth of Beau Didapper, thinks it necessary to apologize (in a note) for its want of sense, by adding—“that it was taken verbatim, from very polite conversation.” Steevens.

Note return to page 570 3Come, &c.] To this line in the first quarto, and the first folio, Clo. by an error of the press is prefixed, instead of Con. i. e. Constable or Dull. Mr. Theobald made the necessary correction. Malone.

Note return to page 571 4&lblank; It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words;] I suppose we should read—it is not for prisoners to be silent in their wards, that is, in custody, in the holds. Johnson. The first quarto, 1598, (the most authentic copy of this play,) reads—“It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words;” and so without doubt the text should be printed. Malone. I don't think it necessary to endeavour to find out any meaning in this passage, as it seems to have been intended that Costard should speak nonsense. M. Mason.

Note return to page 572 5&lblank; affect &lblank;] i. e. love. So, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xii. ch. lxxiv: “But this I know, not Rome affords whom more you might affect, “Than her,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 573 6&lblank; butt-shaft &lblank;] i. e. an arrow to shoot at butts with. The butt was the place on which the mark to be shot at was placed. Thus, Othello says— “&lblank; here is my butt, “And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.” Steevens.

Note return to page 574 7&lblank; The first and second cause will not serve my turn;] See the last Act of As You Like It, with the notes. Johnson.

Note return to page 575 8&lblank; rust, rapier!] So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “Rust, sword! cool blushes, and Parolles, live!” Steevens.

Note return to page 576 9&lblank; sonneteer.] The old copies read only—sonnet. Steevens. The emendation is Sir T. Hanmer's. Malone.

Note return to page 577 1&lblank; your dearest spirits:] Dear, in our author's language, has many shades of meaning. In the present instance and the next, it appears to signify—best, most powerful. Steevens.

Note return to page 578 2Needs not the painted flourish of your praise;] Rowe has borrowed and dignified this sentiment in his Royal Convert. The Saxon Princess is the speaker: “Whate'er I am “Is of myself, by native worth existing, “Secure, and independent of thy praise: “Nor let it seem too proud a boast, if minds “By nature great, are conscious of their greatness, “And hold it mean to borrow aught from flattery.” “Fucati sermonis opem mens conscia laudis “Abnuit &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 579 3Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:] So, in our author's 102d Sonnet: “That love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming “The owner's tongue doth publish every where.” Malone. Chapman here seems to signify the seller, not, as now commonly, the buyer. Cheap or cheaping was anciently the market: chapman therefore is marketman. The meaning is, that—the estimation of beauty depends not on the uttering or proclamation of the seller, but on the eye of the buyer. Johnson.

Note return to page 580 4Bold of your worthiness,] i. e. confident of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 581 5Longaville &lblank;] For the sake of manners as well as metre, we ought to read—Lord Longaville—. Steevens.

Note return to page 582 6A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;] Thus the folio. The first quarto, 1598, has the line thus: “A man of sovereign, peerlesse, he's esteem'd.” I believe, the author wrote: “A man of,—sovereign, peerless, he's esteem'd.” A man of extraordinary accomplishments, the speaker perhaps would have said, but suddenly checks herself; and adds—“sovereign, peerless he's esteem'd.” So, before: “Matchless Navarre.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; but you, O you, “So perfect, and so peerless are created.” In the old copies no attention seems to have been given to abrupt sentences. They are almost uniformly printed corruptly, without any mark of abruption. Thus, in Much Ado about Nothing, we find both in the folio and quarto: “&lblank; but for the stuffing well, we are all mortal.” See Act I. Sc. I. See also Measure for Measure, Act I. Sc. V.: “Sir, mock me not:—your story.” Malone. Perhaps our author wrote: “A man, a sovereign pearl, he is esteem'd.” i.e. not only a pearl, but such a one as is pre-eminently valuable. In Troïlus and Cressida Helen is called—“a pearl;” and in Macbeth the nobles of Scotland are styled—“the kingdom's pearl.”—The phrase—“a sovereign pearl” may also be countenanced by—“captain jewels in a carkanet,” an expression which occurs in one of our author's Sonnets. Sovereign parts, however, is a kin to royalty of nature, a phrase that occurs in Macbeth. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 7Well fitted in the arts,] Well fitted is well qualified. Johnson. The, which is not in the old copies, was added for the sake of the metre, by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 584 8&lblank; match'd with &lblank;] Is combined or joined with. Johnson.

Note return to page 585 *First folio, she.

Note return to page 586 9And much too little, &c.] i. e. And my report of the good I saw, is much too little compared to his great worthiness. Heath.

Note return to page 587 1&lblank; competitors in oath,] i. e. confederates. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate “Our great competitor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 588 2Were all address'd &lblank;] To address is to prepare. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; it lifted up its head, and did address “Itself to motion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 589 3Where &lblank;] Where is here used for whereas. So, in Pericles, Act I. Sc. I.: “Where now you're both a father and a son.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 590 4And sin to break it:] Sir T. Hanmer reads: “Not sin to break it:” I believe erroneously. The princess shows an inconvenience very frequently attending rash oaths, which, whether kept or broken, produce guilt. Johnson.

Note return to page 591 5Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?] Thus the folio. In the first quarto, this dialogue passes between Katharine and Biron. It is a matter of little consequence. Malone.

Note return to page 592 6&lblank; and not demands, On payment, &c.] The former editions read: “&lblank; and not demands “One payment of a hundred thousand crowns, “To have his title live in Aquitain.” I have restored, I believe, the genuine sense of the passage. Aquitain was pledged, it seems, to Navarre's father, for 200,000 crowns. The French king pretends to have paid one moiety of this debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of,) but demands this moiety back again: instead whereof (says Navarre) he should rather pay the remaining moiety, and demand to have Aquitain re-delivered up to him. This is plain and easy reasoning upon the fact supposed; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the residue of his debt, than detain the province mortgaged for security of it. Theobald. The two words are frequently confounded in the books of our author's age. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; In which I bind, “One pain of punishment the world to weet “We stand up peerless.” Again, in Troïlus and Cressida, 4to. 1609: “As if his foot were one brave Hector's breast.” See also a note on King John, Act III. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 593 7&lblank; depart withal,] To depart and to part were anciently synonymous. So, in King John: “Hath willingly departed with a part.” Again, in Every Man Out of his Humour: “Faith, sir, I can hardly depart with ready money.” Steevens.

Note return to page 594 8&lblank; gelded &lblank;] To this phrase Shakspeare is peculiarly attached. It occurs in The Winter's Tale, King Richard II. King Henry IV. King Henry VI. &c. &c. but never less properly than in the present formal speech, addressed by a king to a maiden princess. Steevens. Mr. Malone has observed that this was a common metaphorical expression in Shakspeare's age. It was probably no more considered as offensive then, than it would be now to talk of the castrations of Holinshed. Boswell.

Note return to page 595 *First folio, farther.

Note return to page 596 †First folio, we shall.

Note return to page 597 9Is the fool sick?] She means perhaps his heart. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. “Beat. Yes, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care.” Malone.

Note return to page 598 1My physick says, I.] She means to say, ay. The old spelling of the affirmative particle has been retained here for the sake of the rhyme. Malone.

Note return to page 599 2No poynt,] So, in The Shoemaker's Holliday, 1600: “&lblank; tell me where he is. “No point. Shall I betray my brother?” Steevens. No point was a negation borrowed from the French. See the note on the same words, Act V. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 600 3&lblank; What lady is that same?] It is odd that Shakspeare should make Dumain enquire after Rosaline, who was the mistress of Biron, and neglect Katharine, who was his own. Biron behaves in the same manner. No advantage would be gained by an exchange of names, because the last speech is determined to Biron by Maria, who gives a character of him after he has made his exit. Perhaps all the ladies wore masks but the princess. Steevens. They certainly did. See p. 313, where Biron says to Rosaline— “Now fair befall your mask!” Malone.

Note return to page 601 4God's blessing on your beard!] That is, may'st thou have sense and seriousness more proportionate to thy beard, the length of which suits ill with such idle catches of wit. Johnson. I doubt whether so much meaning was intended to be conveyed by these words. Malone.

Note return to page 602 5&lblank; unless we feed on your lips.] Our author has the same expression in his Venus and Adonis: “Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale; “Graze on my lips.” Malone.

Note return to page 603 6My lips are no common, though several they be.] Several is an inclosed field of a private proprietor; so Maria says, her lips are private property. Of a Lord that was newly married, one observed that he grew fat; “Yes,” said Sir Walter Raleigh, “any beast will grow fat, if you take him from the common and graze him in the several.” Johnson. So, in The Rival Friends, 1632: “&lblank; my sheep have quite disgrest “Their bounds, and leap'd into the severall.” Again, in Green's Disputation, &c. 1592: “rather would have mewed me up as a henne, to have kept that severall to himself by force,” &c. Again, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “Of late he broke into a severall “That does belong to me.” Again, in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 4to. bl. l. 1597:— “he entered commons in the place which the olde John thought to be reserved severall to himself.” p. 64. b. Again, in Holinshed's History of England, b. vi. p. 150:—“not to take and pale in the commons, to enlarge their severalles.” Steevens. In Dr. Johnson's note upon this passage, it is said that several is “an inclosed field of a private proprietor.” Dr. Johnson has totally mistaken this word. In the first place it should be spelled severell. This does not signify an inclosed field or private property, but is rather the property of every landholder in the parish. In the uninclosed parishes in Warwickshire, and other counties, their method of tillage is thus. The land is divided into three fields, one of which is every year fallow. This the farmers plough and manure, and prepare for bearing wheat. Betwixt the lands, and at the end of them, some little grass land is interspersed, and there are here and there some little patches of green swerd. The next year this ploughed field bears wheat, and the grass land is preserved for hay; and the year following the proprietors sow it with beans, oats, or barley, at their discretion; and the next year it lies fallow again; so that each field in its turn is fallow every third year; and the field thus fallowed is called the common field, on which the cows and sheep graze, and have herdsmen and shepherds to attend them, in order to prevent them from going into the two other fields which bear corn and grass. These last are called the severell, which is not separated from the common by any fence whatever; but the care of preventing the cattle from going into the severell, is left to the herdsmen and shepherds; but the herdsmen have no authority over a town bull, who is permitted to go where he pleases in the severell. Dr. James. Holinshed's Description of Britain, p. 33, and Leigh's Accedence of Armourie, 1597, p. 52, spell this word like Shakspeare. Leigh also mentions the town bull, and says: “all severells to him are common.” Tollet. A play on the word several, which, besides its ordinary signification of separate, distinct, likewise signifies in uninclosed lands, a certain portion of ground appropriated to either corn or meadow, adjoining the common field. In Minsheu's Dictionary, 1617, is the following article: “To Sever from others. Hinc nos pascua et campos seorsim ab aliis separatos Severels dicimus.” In the margin he spells the word as Shakspeare does—severels.—Our author is seldom careful that his comparisons should answer on both sides. If several be understood in its rustick sense, the adversative particle stands but aukwardly. To say, that though land is several, it is not a common, seems as unjustifiable as to assert, that though a house is a cottage, it is not a palace. Yet it was not uncommon among our old writers to put the two words in opposition to each other. As in Peacham's Worth of a Penny: “Others not affecting marriage at all, live (as they say) upon the commons, unto whom it is death to be put into the severall.” Malone.

Note return to page 604 7By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes,] So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosalind, 1594: “Sweet silent rhetorick of persuading eyes; “Dumb eloquence &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 605 8His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,] That is— his tongue being impatiently desirous to see as well as speak. Johnson. Although the expression in the text is extremely odd, I take the sense of it to be that—his tongue envied the quickness of his eyes, and strove to be as rapid in its utterance, as they in their perception. Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 606 9To feel only looking &lblank;] Perhaps we may better read: “To feed only by looking &lblank;.” Johnson.

Note return to page 607 1His face's own margent did quote, &c.] In our author's time, notes, quotations, &c. were usually printed in the exterior margin of books. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, “Find written in the margin of his eyes.” Again, in Hamlet: “I knew you must be edified by the margent.” Malone.

Note return to page 608 2Concolinel—] Here is apparently a song lost. Johnson. I have observed in the old comedies, that the songs are frequently omitted. On this occasion the stage direction is generally —Here they sing—or, Cantant. Again, in The Play of the Wether, by John Heywood, bl. l: “At thende of this staf the god hath a songe, played in his torne, or Mery Reporte come in.” Probably the performer was left to choose his own ditty, and therefore it could not with propriety be exhibited as a part of a new performance. Sometimes yet more was left to the discretion of the ancient comedians, as I learn from the following circumstance in King Edward IV. Part II. 1619:—“Jockey is led whipping over the stage, speaking some words, but of no importance.” Again, in Greene's Tu Quoque, 1614: “Here they two talk, and rail what they list.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “He places all things in order, singing with the ends of old ballads as he does it.” Again, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1605: “Cantat Gallice.” But no song is set down. Again, in the 5th Act: “Cantat saltatque cum Cithara.” Not one out of the many songs supposed to be sung in Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602, are inserted; but instead of them, cantant. Steevens.

Note return to page 609 3&lblank; festinately hither;] i. e. hastily. Shakspeare uses the adjective festinate in King Lear: “Advise the Duke where you are going, to a most festinate preparation.” Steevens.

Note return to page 610 *First folio omits master.

Note return to page 611 4&lblank; a French brawl?] A brawl is a kind of dance, and (as Mr. M. Mason observes,) seems to be what we now call a cotillon. In The Malcontent of Marston, I meet with the following account of it: “The brawl! why 'tis but two singles to the left, two on the right, three doubles forwards, a traverse of six rounds: do this twice, three singles side galliard trick of twenty coranto pace: a figure of eight, three singles broken down, come up, meet two doubles, fall back, and then honour.” Again, in Ben Johnson's masque of Time Vindicated: “The Graces did them footing teach; “And, at the old Idalian brawls, “They danc'd your mother down.” Steevens. So, in Massinger's Picture, Act II. Sc. II.: “'Tis a French brawl, an apish imitation “Of what you really perform in battle.” Tollet.

Note return to page 612 †First folio, the.

Note return to page 613 5&lblank; canary to it with your feet,] Canary was the name of a spritely nimble dance. Theobald.

Note return to page 614 ‡First folio, eye.

Note return to page 615 6&lblank; like a man after the old painting;] It was a common trick among some of the most indolent of the ancient masters, to place the hands in the bosom or the pockets, or conceal them in some other part of the drapery, to avoid the labour of representing them, or to disguise their own want of skill to employ them with grace and propriety. Steevens.

Note return to page 616 7&lblank; These are complements,] Dr. Warburton has here changed complements to complishments, for accomplishments, but unnecessarily. Johnson.

Note return to page 617 8&lblank; these betray, &c.] The former editors:—these betray nice wenches, that would be betray'd without these, and make them men of note. But who will ever believe, that the odd attitudes and affectations of lovers, by which they betray young wenches, should have power to make these young wenches men of note? His meaning is, that they not only inveigle the young girls, but make the men taken notice of too, who affect them. Theobald.

Note return to page 618 9&lblank; and make them men of note, (do you note, men?) that most are affected to these.] i. e. and make those men who are most affected to such accomplishments, men of note.—Mr. Theobald, without any necessity, reads—and make the men of note, &c. which was, I think, too hastily adopted in the subsequent editions. One of the modern editors, instead of—“do you note, men?” with great probability reads—do you note me?” Malone.

Note return to page 619 1By my penny of observation.] Thus, sir T. Hanmer, and his reading is certainly right. The allusion is to the famous old piece, called a Penniworth of Wit. The old copy reads—penne. Farmer. The story Dr. Farmer refers to, was certainly printed before Shakspeare's time. See Langham's Letter, &c. Ritson.

Note return to page 620 2Arm. But O,—but O,— Moth.—the hobby-horse is forgot.] In the celebration of May-day, besides the sports now used of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was dressed up representing Maid Marian; another like a friar; and another rode on a hobby-horse, with bells jingling, and painted streamers. After the reformation took place, and precisians multiplied, these latter rites were looked upon to savour of paganism; and then Maid Marian, the friar, and the poor hobby-horse, were turned out of the games. Some who were not so wisely precise, but regretted the disuse of the hobby-horse, no doubt, satirized this suspicion of idolatry, and archly wrote the epitaph above alluded to. Now Moth, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out But oh! but oh!—humorously pieces out his exclamation with the sequel of this epitaph. Theobald. The same line is repeated in Hamlet. See note on Act III. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 621 3&lblank; but a colt,] Colt is a hot, mad-brained, unbroken young fellow; or sometimes an old fellow with youthful desires. Johnson.

Note return to page 622 4You are too swift, sir, to say so:] How is he too swift for saying that lead is slow? I fancy we should read, as well to supply the rhyme as the sense: “You are too swift, sir, to say so so soon: “Is that lead slow, sir, which is fir'd from a gun?” Johnson. The meaning, I believe, is;—You do not give yourself time to think, if you say so; or, as Mr. M. Mason explains the passage: “You are too hasty in saying that: you have not sufficiently considered it.” Swift, however, means ready at replies. So, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “I have eaten but two spoonfuls, and methinks I could discourse both swiftly and wittily, already.” Steevens. Swift is here used, as in other places, synonymously with witty. I suppose the meaning of Atalanta's better part, in As You Like It, is her wit—the swiftness of her mind. Farmer. So, in As You Like It: “He is very swift and sententions.” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Having so swift and excellent a wit.” On reading the letter which contained an intimation of the Gunpowder-plot in 1605, King James said, “that the style was more quick and pithie than was usual in pasquils and libels.” Malone.

Note return to page 623 5By thy favour, sweet welkin,] Welkin is the sky, to which Armado, with the false dignity of a Spaniard, makes an apology for sighing in its face. Johnson.

Note return to page 624 6&lblank; here's a Costard broken &lblank;] i. e. a head. So, in Hycke Scorner: “I wyll rappe you on the costard with my horne.” Steevens.

Note return to page 625 7&lblank; no l'envoy;] The l'envoy is a term borrowed from the old French poetry. It appeared always at the head of a few concluding verses to each piece, which either served to convey the moral, or to address the poem to some particular person. It was frequently adopted by the ancient English writers. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “Well said: now to the L'Envoy.”—All the Tragedies of John Bochas, translated by Lidgate, are followed by a L'Envoy. Steevens.

Note return to page 626 8&lblank; no salve in the mail, sir:] The old folio reads—no salve in thee male, sir; which, in another folio, is—no salve in the male, sir. What it can mean, is not easily discovered: if mail for a packet or bag was a word then in use, no salve in the mail may mean, no salve in the mountebank's budget. Or shall we read— no enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy—in the vale, sir—O, sir, plantain. The matter is not great, but one would wish for some meaning or other. Johnson. Male or mail was a word then in use. Reynard the fox sent Kayward's head in a male. So, likewise, in Tamburlane, or the Scythian Shepherd, 1590: “Open the males, yet guard the treasure sure.” I believe Dr. Johnson's first explanation to be right. Steevens. Male, which is the reading of the old copies, is only the ancient spelling of mail. So, in Taylor the water-poets works, (Character of a Bawd,) 1630:—“the cloathe-bag of counsel, the capcase, fardle, pack, male, of friendly toleration.” The quarto 1598, and the first folio, have—thee male. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. I can scarcely think that Shakspeare had so far forgotten his little school-learning, as to suppose the Latin verb salvé and the English substantive, salve, had the same pronunciation; and yet without this the quibble cannot be preserved. Farmer. The same quibble occurs in Aristippus, or The Jovial Philosopher, 1630: “Salve, Master Simplicius. “Salve me; 'tis but a Surgeon's complement.” Steevens. Perhaps we should read—No salve in them all, sir. Tyrwhitt. This passage appears to me to be nonsense as it stands, incapable of explanation. I have therefore no doubt but we should adopt the amendment proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt, and read—No salve in them all, sir. Moth tells his master, that—there was a Costard with a broken shin: and the Knight, supposing that Moth has some conceit in what he said, calls upon him to explain it.—Some riddle, says he, some enigma. Come—thy l'envoy—begin. But Costard supposing that he was calling for these things, in order to apply them to his broken shin, says, he will not have them, as they were none of them salves, and begs for a plain plantain instead of them. This is clearly the meaning of Costard's speech, which provokes the illustrious Armado to laugh at the inconsiderate who takes salve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for salve. But when Moth, who is an arch and sensible character, says, in reply to Armado:—“Do the wise think them other? Is not l'envoy a salve?” we must not suppose that this question is owing to his simplicity, but that he intended thereby either to lead the Knight on to the subsequent explanation of the word l'envoy, or to quibble in the manner stated in the notes upon the English word salve and the Latin salvé; a quibble which operates upon the eye, not the ear:—Yet Steevens has shown it was not a new one. If this quibble was intended, which does not evidently appear to be the case, the only way that I account for it, is this:— As the l'envoy was always in the concluding part of a play or poem, it was probably in the l'envoy that the poet or reciter took leave of the audience, and the word itself appears to be derived from the verb envoyer, to send away. Now the usual salutation amongst the Romans at parting, as well as meeting, was the word salvé. Moth, therefore, considers the l'envoy as a salutation or salvé, and then quibbling on this last word, asks if it be not a salve. I do not offer this explanation with much confidence, but it is the only one that occurs to me. M. Mason.

Note return to page 627 *First folio, Or.

Note return to page 628 9I will example it: &c.] These words, and some others, are not in the first folio, but in the quarto of 1598. I still believe the old passage to want regulation, though it has not sufficient merit to encourage the editor who should attempt it: There is in Tusser an old song, beginning— “The ape, the lion, the fox, and the asse, “Thus sets forth man in a glasse,” &c. Perhaps some ridicule on this ditty was intended. Steevens.

Note return to page 629 1And he ended the market.] Alluding to the proverb—Three women and a goose, make a market. Tre donne et un occa fan un mercato. Ital. Ray's Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 630 2&lblank; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?] Costard is the name of a species of apple. Johnson. It has been already observed that the head was anciently called the costard. So, in King Richard III.: “Take him over the costard with the hilt of thy sword.” A costard likewise signified a crab-stick. So, in The Loyal Subject of Beaumont and Fletcher: “I hope they'll crown his service—” “With a costard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 631 3Like the sequel, I.] Sequele, in French, signifies a great man's train. The joke is, that a single page was all his train. Theobald. I believe this joke exists only in the apprehension of the commentator. Sequelle, by the French, is never employed but in a derogatory sense. They use it to express the gang of a highwayman, but not the train of a lord; the followers of a rebel, and not the attendants on a general. Thus, Holinshed, p. 639:— “to the intent that by the extinction of him and his sequeale, all civil warre and inward division might cease,” &c. Moth uses sequel only in the literary acceptation. Mr. Heath observes that the meaning of Moth is,—“I follow you as close as the sequel does the premises.” Steevens. Moth alludes to the sequel of any story, which follows a preceding part, and was in the old story-books introduced in this manner: “Here followeth the sequel of such a story, or adventure.” So, Hamlet says: “But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admonition?” M. Mason.

Note return to page 632 4&lblank; my incony Jew!—] Incony or kony in the north, signifies, fine, delicate—as a kony thing, a fine thing. It is plain, therefore, we should read: “&lblank; my incony jewel.” Warburton. I know not whether it be right, however specious, to change Jew to Jewel. Jew, in our author's time, was, for whatever reason, apparently a word of endearment, So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Most briskly juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew.” Johnson. The word is used again in the 4th Act of this play: “&lblank; most incony vulgar wit.” In the old comedy called Blurt Master Constable, 1602, I meet with it again. A maid is speaking to her mistress about a gown: “&lblank; it makes you have a most inconie body.” Cony and incony have the same meaning. So, Metaphor says, in Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “O superdainty canon, vicar inconey.” Again, in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “O, I have sport inconey i'faith.” Again, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “While I in thy incony lap do tumble.” Again, in Doctor Dodypoll, a comedy, 1600: “A cockscomb incony, but that he wants money. Steevens. There is no such expression in the North as either kony or incony. The word canny, which the people there use, and from which Dr. Warburton's mistake may have arisen, bears a variety of significations, none of which is fine, delicate, or applicable to a thing of value. Dr. Johnson's quotation by no means proves Jew to have been a word of endearment. Ritson. In opposition to Mr. Ritson's positive assertion, we find in Grose's Provincial Glossary! “Connay; brave, fine; the same as canny, North.” Malone.

Note return to page 633 5Cost. Guerdon.—O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: &c.] Guerdon, i. e. reward. So, in The Spanish Tragedy: “Speak on, I'll guerdon thee whate'er it be.” Perhaps guerdon is a corruption of regardum, middle Latin. The following parallel passage in A Health to the gentlemanly Profession of Serving-men, or the Serving-man's Comfort, &c. 1578, was pointed out to me by Dr. Farmer. “There was, sayth he, a man, (but of what estate, degree, or calling, I will not name, lest thereby I might incurre displeasure of anie,) that comming to his friendes house, who was a gentleman of good reckoning, and being there kindly entertained, and well used, as well of his friende the gentleman, as of his servantes; one of the sayde servantes doing him some extraordinarie pleasure during his abode there, at his departure he comes up to the sayd servant, and saith unto him, Hold thee, here is a remuneration for thy paynes; which the servant receiveth, gave him utterly for it (besides his paynes) thankes, for it was but a three-farthings peece: and I holde thankes for the same a small price, howsoever the market goes. Now an other coming to the sayd gentlemen's house, it was the foresayd servant's good hap to be neare him at his going away, who calling the servant unto him, sayd, Holde thee, here is a guerdon for thy deserts: now the servant payd no deerer for the guerdon, than he did for the remuneration; though the guerdon was xid. farthing better; for it was a shilling, and the other but a three-farthinges.” Shakspeare was certainly indebted to this performance for his present vein of jocularity, the earliest edition of Love's Labour's Lost being printed in 1598. Steevens. Although this play was not printed till 1598, it was certainly written several years earlier. Mr. Malone having never met with so early an edition of The Serving-man's Comfort, applied to Mr. Reed, who in a letter now before me, dated August 23, 1804, says that Mr. Steevens had committed an errour. Boswell.

Note return to page 634 6&lblank; in print.] i. e. exactly, with the utmost nicety. It has been proposed to me to read—in point, but I think, without necessity, the former expression being still in use. So, in Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “Next, your ruff must stand in print.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “I am sure my husband is a man in print, in all things else.” Again, in Woman is a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; this doublet sits in print, my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 635 7Than whom no mortal so magnificent!] Magnificent here means, glorying, boasting. M. Mason. Terence also uses magnifica verba, for vaunting, vainglorious words. Usque adeo illius ferre possum ineptias et magnifica verba. Eunuch, Act IV. Sc. VI. Steevens.

Note return to page 636 8This wimpled,] The wimple was a hood or veil which fell over the face. Had Shakspeare been acquainted with the flammeum of the Romans, or the gem which represents the marriage of Cupid and Psyche, his choice of the epithet would have been much plauded by all the advocates in favour of his learning. In Isaiah, iii. 22, we find: “&lblank; the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping-pins:” and, in The Devil's Charter, 1607, to wimple is used as a verb: “Here, I perceive a little rivelling “Above my forehead, but I wimple it, “Either with jewels, or a lock of hair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 637 9This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;] The old reading is—This signior Junio's, &c. Steevens. It was some time ago ingeniously hinted to me, (and I readily came into the opinion,) that as there was a contrast of terms in giant-dwarf, so, probably, there should be in the word immediately preceding them; and therefore that we should restore: This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid: i. e. this old young man. And there is, indeed, afterwards, in this play, a description of Cupid which sorts very aptly with such an emendation: “That was the way to make his godhead wax, “For he hath been five-thousand years a boy.” The conjecture is exquisitely well imagined, and ought by all means to be embraced, unless there is reason to think, that, in the former reading, there is an allusion to some tale, or character in an old play. I have not, on this account, ventured to disturb the text, because there seems to me some reason to suspect, that our author is here alluding to Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca. In that tragedy there is a character of one Junius, a Roman captain, who falls in love to distraction with one of Bonduca's daughters; and becomes an arrant whining slave to this passion. He is afterwards cured of his infirmity, and is as absolute a tyrant against the sex. Now, with regard to these two extremes, Cupid might very probably be styled Junius's giant-dwarf: a giant in his eye, while the dotage was upon him; but shrunk into a dwarf, as soon as he had got the better of it. Theobald. Mr. Upton has made a very ingenious conjecture on this passage. He reads: “This signior Julio's giant-dwarf &lblank;.” Shakspeare, says he, intended to compliment Julio Romano, who drew Cupid in the character of a giant-dwarf. Dr. Warburton thinks, that by Junio is meant youth in general. Johnson. There is no reason to suppose that Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca was written so early as the year 1598, when this play appeared. Even if it was then published, the supposed allusion to the character of Junius is forced and improbable; and who, in support of Upton's conjecture will ascertain, that Julio Romano ever drew Cupid as a giant-dwarf? Shakspeare, in K. Rich. III. Act IV. Sc. IV. uses signory for seniority; and Stowe's Chronicle, p. 149, edit. 1614, speaks of Edward the signior, i. e. the elder. I can therefore suppose that signior here means senior, and not the Italian title of honour. Thus, in the first folio, at the end of The Comedy of Errors: “S. Dro. Not I, sir; you are my elder. “E. Dro. That's a question: how shall we try it? “S. Dro. We'll draw cuts for the signior.” Tollet. In the exaggeration of poetry we might call Cupid a giant-dwarf; but how a giant-dwarf should be represented in painting, I cannot well conceive. M. Mason. I have not the smallest doubt that senior-junior is the true reading. Love among our ancient English poets, (as Dr. Farmer has observed on such another occasion,) is always characterized by contrarieties. Steevens. We have a similar expression used by Jonson in the verses written by him, introduced in Chester's Rosalyn's Complaint, where, he says, addressing Venus: “Let the old boy your son ply his old task!” The whole of this passage has been imitated by Heywood in his Love's Mistris, 1636: “Then harken o you hoydes, and listen o you illiterates, whil'st I give you his stile in folio. Hee is King of cares, cogitations, and cox-combes; Viceroy of vowes, and vanities; Prince of passions, prateapaces, and pickled lovers; Duke of disasters, dissemblers, and drown'd eyes; Marquesse of melancholy and mad-folkes; Grand signior of griefs and grones; Lord of lamentations; Heroe of hie-hoes; Admiral of aymees; and Mounsier of mutton laced.” Boswell.

Note return to page 638 1Dread prince of plackets,] A placket is a petticoat. Douce.

Note return to page 639 2Of trotting paritors,] An apparitor, or paritor, is an officer of the Bishop's court, who carries out citations: as citations are most frequently issued for fornication, the paritor is put under Cupid's government. Johnson.

Note return to page 640 3And I to be a corporal of his field,] Corporals of the field are mentioned in Carew's Survey of Cornwall, and Raleigh speaks of them twice, vol. i. p. 103, vol. ii. p. 367, edit. 1751. Tollet. This officer is likewise mentioned in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “As corporal of the field, maestro del campo.” Giles Clayton, in his Martial Discipline, 1591, has a chapter on the office and duty of a corporal of the field. In one of Drake's Voyages, it appears that the captains Morgan and Sampson, by this name, “had commandement over the rest of the land-captaines.” Brookesby tells us, that “Mr. Dodwell's father was in an office then known by the name of corporal of the field, which he said was equal to that of a captain of horse.” Farmer. Thus also, in a Letter from Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris, to the Privy Council. See Lodge's Illustrations, &c. vol. ii. 394: “Wee loste not above 2 common souldiers, and one of the corporalls of the fielde.” Steevens. It appears from Lord Stafford's Letters, vol. ii. p. 199, that a corporal of the field was employed as an aid-de-camp is now, “in taking and carrying to and fro the directions of the general, or other the higher officers of the field.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 641 4And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!] The conceit seems to be very forced and remote, however it be understood. The notion is not that the hoops wears colours, but that the colours are worn as a tumbler carries his hoop, hanging on one shoulder and falling under the opposite arm. Johnson. Perhaps the tumblers' hoops were adorned with their masters' colours, or with ribbands. To wear his colours, means to wear his badge or cognisance, or to be his servant or retainer. So, in Holinshed's Hist. of Scotland, p. 301: “The earle of Surrie gave to his servants this cognisance (to wear on their left arm) which was a white lyon,” &c. So, in Stowe's Annals, p. 274: “All that ware the dukes sign, or colours, were faine to hide them, conveying them from their necks, into their bosome.” Again, in Selden's Duello, chap. ii.: “his esquires cloathed in his colours.” Biron banters himself upon being a corporal of Cupid's field, and a servant of that great general and imperator. Tollet. It was once a mark of gallantry to wear a lady's colours. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; dispatches his lacquey to her chamber early, to know what her colours are for the day, with purpose to apply his wear that day accordingly,” &c. Again, in Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel and Stella: “Because I breathe not love to every one, “Nor doe not use set colours for to weare,” &c. I am informed by a lady who remembers morris-dancing, that the character who tumbled, always carried his hoop dressed out with ribbands, and in the position described by Dr. Johnson. Steevens. Tumblers' hoops are to this day bound round with ribbands of various colours. Harris.

Note return to page 642 5What? I! I love!] A second what had been supplied by the editors. I should like better to read—What? I! I love! Tyrwhitt. Mr. Tyrwhitt's emendation is supported by the first line of the present speech: “And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip &lblank;.” Sir T. Hanmer supplied the metre by repeating the word What. Malone.

Note return to page 643 *First folio and 4to. cloake.

Note return to page 644 6&lblank; like a German clock, Still a repairing;] The same allusion occurs in Westward-Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607:—“no German clock, no mathematical engine whatsoever, requires so much reparation,” &c. Again, in A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “&lblank; she consists of a hundred pieces, “Much like your German clock, and near allied: “Both are so nice they cannot go for pride. “Besides a greater fault, but too well known, “They'll strike to ten, when they should stop at one.” Ben Jonson has the same thought in his Silent Woman, and Beaumont and Fletcher in Wit without Money. Again, in Decker's News from Hell, &c. 1606:—“their wits (like wheels of Brunswick clocks) being all wound up as far as they could stretch, were all going, but not one going truly.” The following extract is taken from a book called The Artificial Clock-Maker, 3d edit. 1714:—“Clock-making was supposed to have had its beginning in Germany within less than these two hundred years. It is very probable that our balance-clocks or watches, and some other automata, might have had their beginning there;” &c. Again, in p. 91:—“Little worth remark is to be found till towards the 16th century; and then clock-work was revived or wholly invented anew in Germany, as is generally thought, because the ancient pieces are of German work.” A skilful watch-maker informs me, that clocks have not been commonly made in England much more than one hundred years backward. To the inartificial construction of these first pieces of mechanism executed in Germany, we may suppose Shakspeare alludes. The clock at Hampton Court, which was set up in 1540, (as appears from the inscription affixed to it,) is said to be the first ever fabricated in England. See, however, Letters of The Paston Family, vol. ii. 2d edit. p. 31. Steevens. “In some towns in Germany, (says Dr. Powel, in his Human Industry, 8vo. 1661,) there are very rare and elaborate clocks to be seen in their town-halls, wherein a man may read astronomy, and never look up to the skies.—In the town-hall of Prague there is a clock that shows the annual motions of the sun and moon, the names and numbers of the months, days, and festivals of the whole year, the time of the sun rising and setting throughout the year, the equinoxes, the length of the days and nights, the rising and setting of the twelve signs of the Zodiack, &c.—But the town of Strasburgh carries the bell of all other steeples of Germany in this point.” These elaborate clocks were probably often “out of frame.” Malone. I have heard a French proverb that compares any thing that is intricate and out of order, to the coq de Strasburg that belongs to the machinery of the town-clock. S. Weston.

Note return to page 645 7&lblank; sue, and groan;] And, which is not in either of the authentic copies of this play, the quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, was added to supply the metre, by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 646 8Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.] To this line Mr. Theobald extends his second Act, not injudiciously, but without sufficient authority. Johnson.

Note return to page 647 9&lblank; where is the bush, That we must stand and play the murderer in?] How familiar this amusement once was to ladies of quality, may be known from a letter addressed by lord Wharton to the Earl of Shrewsbury, dated from Alnewik, Aug. 14, 1555: “I besiche yor Lordeshipp to tayke some sporte of my litell grounde there, and to comaund the same even as yo.r Lordeshippes owne. My ladye may shote w.th her crosbowe,” &c. Lodge's Illustrations of British History, &c. vol. i. p. 203. Again, in a letter from Sir Francis Leake to the Earl of Shrewsbury, vol. iii. p. 295: “Yo.r Lordeshype hath sente me a verie greatte and fatte stagge, the wellcomer beynge stryken by yo.r ryght honourable Ladie's hande, &c.—My balde bucke lyves styll to wayte upon yo.r L. and my Ladie's comyng hyther, w.ch I expect whensoever shall pleas yow to apointe; onelé thys, thatt my Ladie doe nott hytt hym throgh the nose, for marryng hys whyte face; howbeitt I knoe her Ladishipp takes pitie of my buckes, sence the last tyme yt pleased her to take the travell to shote att them,” &c. Dated July, 1605. Steevens.

Note return to page 648 1Here, good my glass,] To understand how the princess has her glass so ready at hand in a casual conversation, it must be remembered that in those days it was the fashion among the French ladies to wear a looking-glass, as Mr. Bayle coarsely represents it, on their bellies; that is, to have a small mirrour set in gold hanging at their girdle, by which they occasionally viewed their faces or adjusted their hair. Johnson. Dr. Johnson, perhaps, is mistaken. She had no occasion to have recourse to any other looking-glass than the Forester, whom she rewards for having shown her to herself as in a mirror. Steevens. Whatever be the interpretation of this passage, Dr. Johnson is right in the historical fact. Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses, is very indignant at the ladies for it: “They must have their looking-glasses carried with them, wheresoever they go: and good reason, for how else could they see the devil in them?” And in Massinger's City Madam, several women are introduced with looking glasses at their girdles. Farmer.

Note return to page 649 2When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart:] The harmony of the measure, the easiness of the expression, and the good sense in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice. Warburton.

Note return to page 650 3&lblank; that my heart means no ill.] That my heart means no ill, is the same with to whom my heart means no ill. The common phrases suppresses the particle, as I mean him [not to him] no harm. Johnson.

Note return to page 651 4&lblank; that self-sovereignty &lblank;] Not a sovereignty over, but in, themselves. So, self-sufficiency, self-consequence, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 652 5&lblank; a member of the common-wealth.] Here, I believe, is a kind of jest intended: a member of the common-wealth, is put for one of the common people, one of the meanest. Johnson. The Princess calls Costard a member of the commonwealth, because she considers him as one of the attendants on the King and his associates in their new-modelled society; and it was part of their original plan that Costard and Armado should be members of it. M. Mason.

Note return to page 653 6God dig-you-den &lblank;] A corruption of—God give you good even. Malone. See my note on Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 7&lblank; Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon.] i. e. open this letter. Our poet uses this metaphor, as the French do their poulet; which signifies both a young fowl and a love-letter. Poulet; amatoriæ literæ, says Richelet; and quotes from Voiture, Repondre au plus obligeant poulet du monde; to reply to the most obliging letter in the world. The Italians use the same manner of expression, when they call a love-epistle, una pollicetta amorosa. I owed the hint of this equivocal use of the word, to my ingenious friend Mr. Bishop. Theobald. Henry IV. consulting with Sully about his marriage, says: “my niece of Guise would please me best, notwithstanding the malicious reports, that she loves poulets in paper, better than in a fricasee.”—A message is called a cold pigeon, in the letter concerning the entertainments at Killingworth Castle. Farmer. To break up was a peculiar phrase in carving. Percy. So, in Westward-Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607: at “the skirt of that sheet, in black-work, is wrought his name: break not up the wild fowl till anon.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gipsies Metamorphosed: “A London cuckold hot from the spit, “And when the carver up had broke him,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 655 8Break the neck of the wax,] Still alluding to the capon. Johnson. So, in The true Tragedies of Marius and Sylla, 1594: “Lectorius read, and break these letters up.” Steevens. One of Lord Chesterfield's Letters, 8vo. vol. iii. p. 114, gives us the reason why poulet meant amatoria litera. Tollet.

Note return to page 656 9More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer, &c.] I would read,—fairer than fair, more beautiful, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 657 1&lblank; illustrate &lblank;] for illustrious. It is often used by Chapman in his translation of Homer. Thus, in the eleventh Iliad: “&lblank; Jove will not let me meet “Illustrate Hector,—” Steevens.

Note return to page 658 2&lblank; King Cophetua &lblank;] The ballad of King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, may be seen in The Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. The beggar's name was Penelophon, here corrupted. Percy. The poet alludes to this song in Romeo and Juliet, Henry IV. P. II. and Richard II. Steevens.

Note return to page 659 *First folio and 4to. annothanize.

Note return to page 660 3&lblank; saw,] The old copies here and in the preceding line have —see. Mr. Rowe made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 661 4Thus dost thou hear, &c.] These six lines appear to be a quotation from some ridiculous poem of that time. Warburton.

Note return to page 662 5&lblank; going o'er it &lblank;] A pun upon the word stile. Musgrave.

Note return to page 663 6&lblank; erewhile.] Just now; a little while ago. So, Raleigh: “Here lies Hobbinol, our shepherd while e'er.” Johnson.

Note return to page 664 7&lblank; a Monarcho,] The allusion is to a fantastical character of the time:—“Popular applause (says Meres) doth nourish some, neither do they gape after any other thing, but vaine praise and Igorie,—as in our age Peter Shakerlye of Paules, and Monarcho that lived about the court,” p. 178. Farmer. In Nash's Have With You to Saffron-Walden, &c. 1595, I meet with the same allusion:—“but now he was an insulting monarch above Monarcho the Italian, that ware crownes in his shoes, and quite renounced his natural English accents, and gestures, and wrested himself wholly to the Italian punctilios,” &c. But one of the epitaphs written by Thomas Churchyard, and printed in a collection called his Chance, 4to. 1580, will afford the most ample account of this extraordinary character. I do not therefore apologize for the length of the following extract: “The Phantasticall Monarckes Epitaphe. “Though Dant be dedde, and Marrot lies in graue,   “And Petrarks sprite bee mounted past our vewe, “Yet some doe liue (that poets humours haue)   “To keepe old course with vains of verses newe: “Whose penns are prest to paint out people plaine, “That els a sleepe in silence should remaine: “Come poore old man that boare the Monarks name, “Thyne Epitaphe shall here set forthe thy fame. “Thy climyng mynde aspierd beyonde the starrs,   “Thy loftie stile no yearthly titell bore: “Thy witts would seem to see through peace and warrs,   “Thy tauntyng tong was pleasant sharpe and sore. “And though thy pride and pompe was somewhat vaine, “The Monarcke had a deepe discoursyng braine: “Alone with freend he could of wonders treate, “In publike place pronounce a sentence greate. “No matche for fooles, if wisemen were in place,   “No mate at meale to sit with common sort: “Both grave of looks and fatherlike of face,   “Of judgement quicke, of comely forme and port. “Moste bent to words on hye and solempne daies, “Of diet fine, and daintie diuerse waies: “And well disposde, if Prince did pleasure take, “At any mirthe that he poore man could make. “On gallant robes his greatest glorie stood,   “Yet garments bare could never daunt his minde: “He feard no state, nor caerd for worldly good,   “Held eche thyng light as fethers in the winde. “And still he saied, the strong thrusts weake to wall, “When sword bore swaie, the Monarke should have all. “The man of might at length shall Monarke bee, “And greatest strength shall make the feeble flee. “When straungers came in presence any wheare,   “Straunge was the talke the Monarke uttred than: “He had a voice could thonder through the eare,   “And speake mutche like a merry Christmas man: “But sure small mirthe his matter harped on. “His forme of life who lists to look upon, “Did shewe some witte, though follie fedde his will: “The man is dedde, yet Monarks liueth still.” p. 7. A local allusion employed by a poet like Shakspeare, resembles the mortal steed that drew in the chariot of Achilles. But short services could be expected from either. Steevens. The succeeding quotations will afford some further intelligence concerning this fantastick being: “I could use an incident for this, which though it may seem of small weight, yet may it have his misterie with this act, who, being of base condition, placed himself (without any purturbation of minde) in the royall seat of Alexander, which the Chaldeans prognosticated to portend the death of Alexander. “The actors were, that Bergamasco (for his phantastick humors) named Monarcho, and two of the Spanish embassadors retinue, who being about foure and twentie yeares past, in Paules Church in London, contended who was soveraigne of the world: the Monarcho maintained himself to be he, and named their king to be but his viceroy for Spain: the other two with great fury denying it. At which myself, and some of good account, now dead, wondred in respect of the subject they handled, and that want of judgment we looked not for in the Spaniards. Yet this, moreover, we noted, that notwithstanding the weight of their controversie they kept in their walk the Spanish turne; which is, that he which goeth at the right hand, shall at every end of the walke turne in the midst; the which place the Monarcho was loth to yeald (but as they compelled him, though they gave him sometimes that romthe) in respect of his supposed majestie; but I would this were the worst of their ceremonies; the same keeping some decorum concerning equalitie.” A briefe Discourse of the Spanish State, with a Dialogue annexed, intituled Philobasilis, 4to. 1590, p. 39. The reader will pardon one further notice: “&lblank; heere comes a souldier, for my life it is a captain Swag: tis even he indeede, I do knowe him by his plume and his scarffe; he looks like a Monarcho of a very cholericke complexion, and as teasty as a goose that hath young goslings,” &c. B. Riche's Faults and nothing but Faults, p. 12. Reed. Mr. Steevens has conjectured, that an account of Monarcho was probably contained in a poetical tract by Robert Armin, called, “The Italian Taylor and his Boy.” But he was mistaken: the tract to which he has alluded, has been republished within these few years, and is on a totally different subject. Boswell.

Note return to page 665 9&lblank; Come, lords, away.] Perhaps the princess said rather: &lblank; Come, ladies, away. The rest of the scene deserves no care. Johnson.

Note return to page 666 1Who is the suitor?] The old copies read— “Who is the shooter?” But it should be, Who is the suitor? and this occasions the quibble. “Finely put on,” &c. seem only marginal observations. Farmer. It appears that suitor was anciently pronounced shooter. So, in The Puritan, 1605: the maid informs her mistress that some archers are come to wait on her. She supposes them to be fletchers, or arrow-smiths: “Enter the suters,” &c. “Why do you not see them before you? are not these archers, what do you call them, shooters? Shooters and archers are all one, I hope?” Steevens. Wherever Shakspeare uses words equivocally, as in the present instance, he lays his editor under some embarrassment. When he told Ben Jonson he would stand Godfather to his child, “and give him a dozen latten spoons,” if we write the word as we have now done, the conceit, such as it is, is lost, at least does not at once appear; if we write it Latin, it becomes absurd. So, in Much Ado about Nothing, Dogberry says, “if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance.” If we write the word thus, the constable's equivoque, poor as it is, is lost, at least to the eye. If we write raisons, (between which word and reasons, there was, I believe, no difference at that time of pronunciation,) we write nonsense. In the passage before us an equivoque was certainly intended; the word shooter and suitor being (as Mr. Steevens has observed) pronounced alike in Shakspeare's time. So, in Essays and Characters of a Prison and Prisoners, by G. M. 1618: “The king's guard are counted the strongest archers, but here are better suitors.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra, edit. 1623, (owing probably to the transcriber's ear having deceived him,)— “&lblank; a grief that suits “My very heart at root &lblank;.” instead of—a grief that shoots. In Ireland, where, I believe, much of the pronunciation of Queen Elizabeth's age is yet retained, the word suitor is at this day pronounced by the vulgar as if it were written shooter. However, I have followed the spelling of the old copy, as it is sufficiently intelligible. Malone.

Note return to page 667 2And who is your deer?] Our author has the same play on this word in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act V. Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “I'll be thy park, and thou shalt be my deer.” Malone.

Note return to page 668 3&lblank; queen Guinever &lblank;] This was King Arthur's queen, not over famous for fidelity to her husband. Mordred the Pict is supposed to have been her paramour.—See the song of The Boy and the Mantle, in Dr. Percy's Collection. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady, the elder Loveless addresses Abigail, the old incontinent waiting woman, by this name. Steevens.

Note return to page 669 4Let the mark have a prick in't,] Thus, says the Princess Floripas in the ancient metrical romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 56: “&lblank; sir Gye my love so free, “Thou kanste welle hit the pricke; “He shall make no booste in his contre. “God gyfe him sorowe thikke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 670 5Wide o' the bow hand!] i. e. a good deal to the left of the mark; a term still retained in modern archery. Douce.

Note return to page 671 6&lblank; the clout.] The clout was the white mark at which archers took their aim. The pin was the wooden nail that upheld it. Steevens.

Note return to page 672 *So second folio; first folio and 4to. the is in.

Note return to page 673 7&lblank; by cleaving the pin.] Honest Costard would have befriended Dean Milles, whose note on a song in the Pseudo-Rowley's Ella has exposed him to so much ridicule. See his book, p. 213. The present application of the word pin, might have led the Dean to suspect the qualities of the basket. But what has mirth to do with archæology? Steevens.

Note return to page 674 8&lblank; you talk greasily,] i. e. grossly. So, in Marston's third Satire: “&lblank; when greasy Aretine, “For his rank fico, is sirnam'd divine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 675 9I fear too much rubbing;] To rub is one of the terms of the bowling green. Boyet's further meaning needs no comment. Malone.

Note return to page 676 1&lblank; to bear her fan!] See a note on Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV. where Nurse asks Peter for her fan. Steevens.

Note return to page 677 2&lblank; a' will swear!—] A line following this seems to have been lost. Malone.

Note return to page 678 3&lblank; in sanguis,—blood;] The old copies read—sanguis, in blood. The transposition was proposed by Mr. Steevens, and is, I think, warranted by the following words, which are arranged in the same manner: “&lblank; in the ear of cœlo, the sky,” &c. The same expression occurs in King Henry VI. Part I: “If we be English deer, be then in blood.” Malone.

Note return to page 679 4&lblank; ripe as a pomewater,] A species of apple formerly much esteemed. Malus Carbonaria. See Gerard's Herbal, edit. 1597, p. 1273. Again, in the old ballad of Blew Cap for Me: “Whose cheeks did resemble two rosting pomewaters.” Steevens. In the first Act of The Puritan, Pyeboard says to Nicholas: “The captain loving you so dearly, aye as the pome-water of his eye.”—Meaning the pupil, or apple of it, as it is vulgarly called. M. Mason.

Note return to page 680 5&lblank; in the ear of cœlo, &c.] In Florio's Italian Dictionary, Cielo is defined “heaven, the skie, firmament, or welkin,” and terra is explained thus: “The element called earth; anie ground, earth, countrie,—land, soile,” &c. If there was any edition of this Dictionary prior to the appearance of Love's Labour's Lost, this might add some little strength to Dr. Warburton's conjecture, that Florio was attacked under the name of Holofernes [for which see the notes at the end of this play,10Q0003] though it would by no means be decisive; but my edition is dated 1598, (posterior to the exhibition of his play,) and it appears to be the first. Malone.

Note return to page 681 6&lblank; But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. &lblank; 'twas a pricket.] In a play called The Return from Parnassus, 1606, I find the following account of the different appellations of deer, at their different ages: “Amoretto. I caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first head. Now, sir, a buck is the first year, a fawn; the second year, a pricket; the third year, a sorrell; the fourth year, a soare; the fifth, a buck of the first head; the sixth year, a compleat buck. Likewise your hart is the first year, a calfe; the second year, a brocket; the third year, a spade; the fourth year, a stag; the sixth year, a hart. A roe-buck is the first year, a kid; the second year, a gird; the third year, a hemuse; and these are your special beasts for chase.” Again, in A Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “I am but a pricket, a mere sorell; my head's not harden'd yet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 682 7And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.] The length of these lines was no novelty on the English stage. The Moralities afford scenes of the like measure. Johnson. The old copies read—“which we taste and feeling &lblank;.” &c. I have placed Mr. Tyrwhitt's emendation in the text. Steevens. This stubborn piece of nonsense, as somebody has called it, wants only a particle, I think, to make it sense. I would read: And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that fructify in us more than he. Which in this passage has the force of as, according to an idiom of our language, not uncommon, though not strictly grammatical. What follows is still more irregular; for I am afraid our poet, for the sake of his rhyme, has put he for him, or rather in him. If he had been writing prose, he would have expressed his meaning, I believe, more clearly thus—that do fructify in us more than in him. Tyrwhitt. Some examples confirming Dr. Johnson's observation may be found at the end of The Comedy of Errors. Mr. Tyrwhitt's last observation is fully supported by a subsequent passage: “&lblank; and then we, “Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.” Malone.

Note return to page 683 8For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:] The meaning is, to be in a school would as ill become a patch, or low fellow, as folly would become me. Johnson.

Note return to page 684 9Dictynna,] Old copies—Dictisima. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. Shakspeare might have found this uncommon title for Diana, in the second Book of Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis; “Dictynna garded with her traine, and proud of killing deere.” It occurs also in the first satire of Marston, 1598, and in the 9th Thebaid of Statius, 632. Steevens.

Note return to page 685 1And raught not &lblank;] i. e. reach'd not. So, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “&lblank; the fatal fruit “Raught from the golden tree of Proserpine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 686 2The allusion holds in the exchange.] i. e. the riddle is as good when I use the name of Adam, as when I use the name of Cain. Warburton.

Note return to page 687 3&lblank; I have &lblank;] These words were inserted by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 688 4&lblank; affect the letter;] That is, I will practise alliteration. M. Mason. To affect is thus used by Ben Jonson in his Discoveries: “Spenser in affecting the ancients, writ no language; yet I would have him read for his matter, but as Virgil read Ennius.” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 5The praiseful princess &lblank;] This emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. The quarto 1598, and folio 1623, read corruptly—prayful. Malone. The ridicule designed in this passage may not be unhappily illustrated by the alliteration in the following lines of Ulpian Fulwell, in his Commemoration of Queen Anne Bullayne, which makes part of a collection called The Flower of Fame, printed 1575: “Whose princely praise hath pearst the pricke, “And price of endless fame,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 6&lblank; O sore L!] The old copies read—O sorell. The necessary change was made by Dr. Warburton. The allusion (as he observes) is to L, being the numeral for fifty. This correction (says Mr. Malone,) is confirmed by the rhyme: “A deer (he adds) during his third year is called a sorell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 691 7If a talent be a claw, &c.] In our author's time the talon of a bird was frequently written talent. Hence the quibble here, and in Twelfth-Night, Act I. Sc. V.: “&lblank; let them use their talents.” So, in The First Part of the Contention between the Houses of York and Lancaster, 1600: “Are you the kite, Beaufort? where's your talents?” Again, in Marlowe's Tamberlaine, 1590: “&lblank; and now doth ghastly death “With greedy tallents gripe my bleeding heart.” Malone.

Note return to page 692 8&lblank; claws him with a talent.] Honest Dull quibbles. One of the senses of to claw, is to flatter. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 693 9&lblank; pia mater;] See Twelfth-Night, Act I. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 694 *First folio and 4to. prima mater.

Note return to page 695 1&lblank; if their daughters be capable, &c.] Of this double entendre, despicable as it is, Mr. Pope and his coadjutors availed themselves, in their unsuccessful comedy called Three Hours after Marriage. Steevens. Capable is used equivocally. One of its senses was reasonable; endowed with a ready capacity to learn. So, in King Richard III.: “O 'tis a parlous boy, “Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable.” The other wants no explanation. Malone.

Note return to page 696 2&lblank; quasi pers-on.] So, in Holinshed, p. 953: “Jerom was vicar of Stepnie, and Garrard was person of Honie-lane.” Again, in the Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, 1560: “And send such whens home to our person or vicar.” I believe, however, we should write the word—pers-one. The same play on the word pierce is put into the mouth of Falstaff. Steevens. The words one and on were, I believe, pronounced nearly alike, at least in some counties, in our author's time; the quibble, therefore, that Mr. Steevens has noted, may have been intended as the text now stands. In the same style afterwards Moth says: “Offer'd by a child to an old man, which is wit-old. Person, as Sir William Blackstone observes in his Commentaries, is the original and proper term; Persona ecclesiæ. Malone.

Note return to page 697 3Hol. Fauste, precor gelidâ &lblank;] Though all the editions concur to give this speech to Sir Nathaniel, yet, as Dr. Thirlby ingeniously observed to me, it is evident it must belong to Holofernes. The Curate is employed in reading the letter to himself; and while he is doing so, that the stage may not stand still, Holofernes either pulls out a book, or, repeating some verse by heart from Mantuanus, comments upon the character of that poet. Baptista Spagnolus (sirnamed Mantuanus, from the place of his birth) was a writer of poems, who flourished towards the latter end of the 15th century. Theobald. A note of La Monnoye's on these very words in Les Contes des Periers, Nov. 42, will explain the humour of the quotation, and shew how well Shakspeare sustained the character of his pedant.— “Il designe le Carme Baptiste Mantuan, dont au commencement du 16 siecle on lisoit publiquement à Paris les Poesies; si celebres alors, que, comme dit plaisamment Farnabe, dans sa preface sur Martial, les Pedans ne faisoient nulle difficulté de preferer à le Arma virumque cano, le Fauste precor gelidâ; c'est-a-dire, à l'Eneide de Virgil les Eclogues de Mantuan, la premiere desquelles commence par, Fauste, precor gelidâ.” Warburton. The Eclogues of Mantuanus the Carmelite were translated before the time of Shakspeare, and the Latin printed on the opposite side of the page, for the use of schools. In the year 1594 they were also versified by Turberville. Steevens. From a passage in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Penniless, 1593, the Eclogues of Mantuanus appear to been a school-book in our author's time: “With the first and second leafe he plaies very prettilie, and, in ordinarie terms of extenuating, verdits Pierce Pennilesse for a grammar-school wit; saies, his margine is as deeply learned as Fauste precor gelidâ.” So, in Drayton's Epistle to Henry Reynolds, 1627: “And when that once pueriles I had read, “And newly had my Cato construed, “In my small self I greatly marvelled then, “Amongst all other what strange kind of men “Those poets were: and pleased with the name, “To my mild tutor merrily I came. &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “&lblank; when shortly he began, “And first read to me honest Mantuan.” The translation of Mantuanus by George Turberville was printed in 8vo. in 1567. Malone.

Note return to page 698 4—Vinegia, Vinegia, Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia.] Our author is applying the praises of Mantuanus to a common proverbial sentence, said of Venice. Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia. O Venice, Venice, he who has never seen thee, has thee not in esteem. Theobald. The proverb, as I am informed, is this:—He that sees Venice little, values it much; he that sees it much, values it little. But I suppose Mr. Theobald is right, for the true proverb would not serve the speaker's purpose. Johnson. The proverb stands thus in Howell's Letters, b. i. sect. i. l. 36: “Venetia, Venetia, chi non te vede, non te pregia, “Ma chi t' ha troppo veduto le dispregia.” “Venice, Venice, none thee unseen can prize; “Who thee hath seen too much, will thee despise.” The players in their edition, have thus printed the first line. Vemchie, vencha, que non te unde, que non te perreche. Mr. Malone observes that “the editor of the first folio here, as in many other instances, implicitly copied the preceding quarto. The text was corrected by Mr. Theobald.” Steevens. Our author, I believe, found this Italian proverb in Florio's Second Frutes, 4to. 1591, where it stands thus: “Venetia, chi non ti vede, non ti pretia; “Ma chi ti vede, ben gli costa.” Malone.

Note return to page 699 5Ut, re, sol, &c.] He hums the notes of the gamut, as Edmund does in King Lear, Act I. Sc. II. where see Dr. Burney's note. Douce.

Note return to page 700 6If love make me forsworn, &c.] These verses are printed with some variations in a book entitled The Passionate Pilgrim, 8vo. 1599. Malone.

Note return to page 701 7&lblank; thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is musick and sweet fire.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; his voice was propertied “As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; “But when he meant to quail, and shake the orb, “He was as ratling thunder.” Malone.

Note return to page 702 8&lblank; Here are only numbers ratified;] Though this speech has all along been placed to Sir Nathaniel, I have ventured to join it to the preceding words of Holofernes; and not without reason. The speaker here is impeaching the verses; but Sir Nathaniel, as it appears above, thought them learned ones: besides, as Dr. Thirlby observes, almost every word of this speech fathers itself on the pedant. So much for the regulation of it: now, a little to the contents. “And why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitary is nothing.” Sagacity with a vengeance! I should be ashamed to own myself a piece of a scholar, to pretend to the task of an editor, and to pass such stuff as this upon the world for genuine. Who ever heard of invention imitary? Invention and imitation have ever been accounted two distinct things. The speech is by a pedant, who frequently throws in a word of Latin amongst his English; and he is here flourishing upon the merit of invention, beyond that of imitation, or copying after another. My correction makes the whole so plain and intelligible, that, I think, it carries conviction along with it. Theobald. This pedantry appears to have been common in the age of Shakspeare. The author of Lingua, or the Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority, 1607, takes particular notice of it: “I remember about the year 1602, many used this skew kind of language, which, in my opinion, is not much unlike the man, whom Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, king of Egypt, brought for a spectacle, half white and half black.” Steevens.

Note return to page 703 9&lblank; the tired horse &lblank;] The tired horse was the horse adorned with ribbands,—the famous Bankes's horse so often alluded to. Lyly, in his Mother Bombie, brings in a Hackneyman and Mr. Half-penny at cross-purposes with this word: “Why didst thou boare the horse through the eares?”—“It was for tiring.” “He would never tire,” replies the other. Farmer. So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, Part II. 1602: “Slink to thy chamber then and tyre thee.” Again, in What You Will, by Marston, 1607: “My love hath tyred some fidler like Albano.” Malone.

Note return to page 704 1Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron,] Shakspeare forgot himself in this passage. Jaquenetta knew nothing of Biron, and had said, just before, that the letter had been “sent to her from Don Armatho, and given to her by Costard.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 705 2&lblank; writing &lblank;] Old copies written. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. The first five lines of this speech were restored to the right owner by Mr. Theobald. Instead of Sir Nathaniel the old copies have—Sir Holofernes. Corrected by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 706 3&lblank; Trip and go, my sweet;] Perhaps originally the burthen of a song. So, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, by Nashe, 1600: “Trip and go, heave and hoe, “Up and down, to and fro &lblank;.” Malone. These words are certainly part of an old popular song. There is an ancient musical medley beginning—Trip and go hey! Ritson.

Note return to page 707 4&lblank; colourable colours.] That is, specious or fair seeming appearances. Johnson.

Note return to page 708 5&lblank; before repast,] Thus the quarto. Folio—being repast. Malone.

Note return to page 709 6&lblank; certes,] i. e. certainly, in truth. So, in Chaucer's Wif of Bathes Tale, v. 6790: “And certes, sire, though non auctoritee “Were in no book,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 710 7&lblank; I am toiling in a pitch;] Alluding to lady Rosaline's complexion, who is through the whole play represented as a black beauty. Johnson.

Note return to page 711 8&lblank; this love is as mad as Ajax; it kills sheep; it kills me,] This is given as a proverb in Fuller's Gnomologia. Ritson.

Note return to page 712 9The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:] This phrase, however quaint, is the poet's own. He means, the dew that nightly flows down his cheeks. Shakspeare, in one of his other pieces, uses night of dew for dewy night, but I cannot at present recollect in which. Steevens.

Note return to page 713 1Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright, Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears &lblank;] So, in our poet's Venus and Adonis: “But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, “Shone, like the moon in water, seen by night.” Malone.

Note return to page 714 2&lblank; he comes in like a perjure,] The punishment of perjury is to wear on the breast a paper expressing the crime. Johnson. Thus, Holinshed, p. 838, speaking of Cardinal Wolsey: “&lblank; he so punished a perjurie with open punishment, and open papers wearing, that in his time it was less used.” Again, in Leicester's Commonwealth:—“the gentlemen were all taken and cast into prison, and afterwards were set down to Ludlow, there to wear papers of perjury.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 3In love, I hope; &c.] In the old copy this line is given to Longaville. The present regulation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 716 4O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: Disfigure not his slop.] The old copies read—shop. Steevens. All the editions happen to concur in this error: but what agreement in sense is there between Cupid's hose and his shop? or what relation can those two terms have to one another? or, what, indeed, can be understood by Cupid's shop? It must undoubtedly be corrected, as I have reformed the text. Slops are large and wide-knee'd breeches, the garb in fashion in our author's days, as we may observe from old family pictures; but they are now worn only by boors and sea-faring men: and we have dealers, whose sole business it is to furnish the sailors with shirts, jackets, &c. who are called slop-men, and their shops, slop-shops. Theobald. I suppose this alludes to the usual tawdry dress of Cupid, when he appeared on the stage. In an old translation of Casa's Galateo is this precept: “Thou must wear no garments, that be over much daubed with garding: that men may not say, thou hast Ganimedes hosen, or Cupides doublet.” Farmer.

Note return to page 717 5To lose an oath to win a paradise?] The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599, in which this sonnet is also found, reads—To break an oath. But the opposition between lose and win is much in our author's manner. Malone.

Note return to page 718 6&lblank; the liver vein,] The liver was anciently supposed to be the seat of love. Johnson. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “If ever love had interest in his liver.” Steevens.

Note return to page 719 7All hid, all hid,] The children's cry at hide and seek. Musgrave.

Note return to page 720 8&lblank; four woodcocks in a dish!] See note on Much Ado about Nothing, Act V. Sc. I. Douce.

Note return to page 721 9By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie.] Old edition: “By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.” Dumain, one of the lovers, in spite of his vow to the contrary, thinking himself alone here, breaks out into short soliloquies of admiration on his mistress; and Biron, who stands behind as an eves-dropper, takes pleasure in contradicting his amorous raptures. But Dumain was a young lord; he had no sort of post in the army: what wit, or allusion, then, can there be in Biron's calling him corporal? I dare warrant, I have restored the poet's true meaning, which is this. Dumain calls his mistress divine, and the wonder of a mortal eye; and Biron in flat terms denies these hyperbolical praises. I scarce need hint, that our poet commonly uses corporal, as corporeal. Theobald. I have no doubt that Theobald's emendation is right. The word corporal in Shakspeare's time, was used for corporeal. So, in Macbeth:—“each corporal agent.” Again: “&lblank; and what seem'd corporal, melted “As breath into the wind.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit.” This adjective is found in Bullokar's Expositor, 8vo. 1616, but corporeal is not. Not is again printed for but in the original copy of The Comedy of Errors, and in other places. Malone.

Note return to page 722 1&lblank; amber coted.] To cote is to outstrip, to overpass. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; certain players “We coted on the way.” Again, in Chapman's Homer: “&lblank; Words her worth had prov'd with deeds, “Had more ground been allow'd the race, and coted for his steeds.” The beauty of amber consists in its variegated cloudiness, which Dumain calls foulness. The hair of his mistress in varied shadows exceeded those of amber. Foul may be used (as fair often is) as a substantive. Pliny in his Nat. Hist. b. xxxvii. ch. xi. p. 609, informs us that “Nero Domitius made a sonnet in the praise of the haire of the Empresse Poppæa his wife, which he compared to amber; and from that time our daintie dames and fine ladies have begun to set their mind upon this colour,” &c. Steevens. Quoted here, I think, signifies marked, written down. So, in All's Well that Ends well: “He's quoted for a most perfidious knave.” The word in the old copy is—coted; but that (as Dr. Johnson has observed in the last scene of this play) is only the old spelling of quoted, owing to the transcriber's trusting to his ear, and following the pronunciation. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, p. 45, n. 2: “Thu. How quote you my folly? “Val. I quote it in your jerkin.” To cote, is elsewhere used by our author, with the signification of over-take, but that will by no means suit here. Malone. The word here intended, though mispelled, is quoted, which signifies observed or regarded, both here and in every place where it occurs in these plays; and the meaning is, that—amber itself is regarded as foul when compared with her hair. M. Mason.

Note return to page 723 *First folio and quarto omit I.

Note return to page 724 2&lblank; but a fever she Reigns in my blood,] So, in Hamlet: “For, like the hectic, in my blood he rages.” Steevens.

Note return to page 725 3&lblank; why, then incision Would let her out in saucers;] It was the fashion among the young gallants of that age, to stab themselves in the arms, or elsewhere, in order to drink their mistress's health, or write her name in their blood, as a proof their passion. Thus, in The Humorous Lieutenant, a gentleman gives the following description of him, when in love with the King: “Thus he begins, though light and life of creatures, “Angel-ey'd king, vouchsafe at length thy favour; “And so proceeds to incision.” But the custom is more particularly described in Johnson's Cynthia's Revels, where Phantaste, describing the different modes of making love, says:—“A fourth with stabbing himself, and drinking healths, or writing languishing letters in his blood.”— And in the Palinode, at the end of the play, Amorphus says: “From stabbing of arms, &c. Good Mercury deliver us!” M. Mason.

Note return to page 726 4&lblank; 'gan passage find;] The quarto, 1598, and the first folio, have—can. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. In the line next but one, Wish (the reading of the old copies) was corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 727 5Air, would I might triumph so!] Perhaps we may better read: “Ah! would I might triumph so!” Johnson.

Note return to page 728 6&lblank; my hand is sworn,] A copy of this sonnet is printed in England's Helicon, 1614, and reads: “But, alas! my hand hath sworn.” It is likewise printed as Shakspeare's, in Jaggard's Collection 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 729 7&lblank; from thy thorn:] So, Mr. Pope. The original copies read—throne. Malone.

Note return to page 730 8&lblank; even Jove would swear,] The word even has been supplied; and the two preceding lines are wanting in the copy published in England's Helicon, 1614. Steevens. Swear is here used as a dissyllable. Mr. Pope, not attending to this, reads—ev'n Jove, which has been adopted by the subsequent editors. Malone. I have endeavoured to shew in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification, that the word inserted by Mr. Pope was unnecessary, without having recourse to Mr. Malone's suggestion of making swear a dissyllable. Boswell. I would willingly abandon the adoption, if I could read the line without it, and persuade myself that I was reading a verse. But when was swear ever used as a dissyllable, at the end of a verse? Steevens.

Note return to page 731 9&lblank; my true love's fasting pain.] Fasting is longing, hungry, wanting. Johnson.

Note return to page 732 1One, her hairs &lblank;] The folio reads—On her hairs, &c. I some years ago conjectured that we should read—One, her hairs were gold, &c. i. e. the hairs of one of the ladies were of the colour of gold, and the eyes of the other as clear as crystal. The King is speaking of the panegyricks pronounced by the two lovers on their mistresses. On examining the first quarto, 1598, I have found my conjecture confirmed; for so it reads. One and on are frequently confounded in the old copies of our author's plays. See a note on King John, Act III. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 733 2A faith infring'd, which such a zeal did swear?] The repeated article A (which is wanting in the oldest copy) appears to have been judiciously restored by the editor of the folio 1632. At least, I shall adopt his supplement, till some hardy critick arises and declares himself satisfied with the following line: “Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?” in which “ze—al” must be employed as a dissyllable. See Mr. Malone's note, p. 372. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 734 3These worms for loving,] So, in The Tempest, Prospero addressing Miranda, says— “Poor worm, thou art infected.” Steevens.

Note return to page 735 4Your eyes do make no coaches;] Alluding to a passage in the king's sonnet: “No drop but as a coach doth carry thee.” Steevens. The old copy has—couches. Mr. Pope corrected it. Malone.

Note return to page 736 *First folio and quarto, moth.

Note return to page 737 *First folio and quarto, moth.

Note return to page 738 5&lblank; teen!] i. e. grief. So, in The Tempest: “To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to.” Steevens.

Note return to page 739 6To see a king transformed to a gnat!] Mr. Theobald and the succeeding editors read—to a knot. Malone. Knot has no sense that can suit this place. We may read— sot. The rhymes in this play are such as that sat and sot may be well enough admitted. Johnson. A knot is, I believe, a true lover's knot, meaning that the king laid— “&lblank; his wreathed arms athwart “His loving bosom—” so long; i. e. remained so long in the lover's posture, that he seemed actually transformed into a knot. The word sat is in some counties pronounced sot. This may account for the seeming want of exact rhyme. In the old comedy of Albumazar, the same thought occurs: “Why should I twine my arms to cables?” So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; sitting, “His arms in this sad knot.” Again, in Titus Andronicus: “Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: “Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, “And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief “With folded arms.” Again, in The Raging Turk, 1631: “&lblank; as he walk'd, “Folding his arms up in a pensive knot.” The old copy, however, reads—a gnat, and Mr. Tollet seems to think it contains an allusion to St. Matthew, xxiii. 24, where the metaphorical term of a gnat means a thing of least importance, or what is proverbially small. The smallness of a gnat is likewise mentioned in Cymbeline. Steevens. A knott is likewise a Lincolnshire bird of the snipe kind. It is foolish even to a proverb, and it is said to be easily ensnared. Ray, in his Ornithology, observes, that it took its name from Canute, who was particularly fond of it. Collins. So, in The Alchemist: “My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, &c. “Knotts, godwits,” &c. Again, in the 25th song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “The knot that called was Canutus' bird of old, “Of that great king of Danes his name that still doth hold, “His appetite to please that far and near were sought.” Steevens. “To see a king transformed to a gnat!” Alluding to the singing of that insect, suggested by the poetry the king had been detected in. Heath. The original reading, and Mr. Heath's explanation of it, are confirmed by a passage in Spenser's Fairy Queene, b. ii. c. ix.: “As when a swarme of gnats at even tide “Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise, “Their murmuring small trompettes sounden wide,” &c. Malone. Gnat is undoubtedly the true reading, and is that, it seems, of the old copy. Biron is abusing the King for his sonnetting like a minstrel, and compares him to a gnat, which always sings as it flies. Besides, the word gnat preserves the rhyme, which is here to be attended to. M. Mason.

Note return to page 740 *First folio, tuning.

Note return to page 741 7&lblank; critick Timon &lblank;] Critic and critical are used by our author in the same sense as cynic and cynical. Iago, speaking of the fair sex as harshly as is sometimes the practice of Dr. Warburton, declares he is nothing if not critical. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's observation is supported by our author's 112th Sonnet: “&lblank; my adder's sense “To critick and to flatterer stopped are.” Malone.

Note return to page 742 *First folio, candle.

Note return to page 743 8With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy.] The old copy reads—“men-like men.” Steevens. This is a strange senseless line, and should be read thus: “With vane-like men of strange inconstancy.” Warburton. This is well imagined, but the poet perhaps may mean—with men like common men. Johnson. The following passage in K. Henry VI. P. III. adds some support to Dr. Warburton's conjecture: “Look, as I blow this feather from my face, “And as the air blows it to me again, “Obeying with my wind when I do blow, “And yielding to another when it blows, “Commanded always by the greatest gust; “Such is the lightness of your common men.” Strange, which is not in the quarto or first folio, was added by the editor of the second folio, and consequently any other word as well as that may have been the author's; for all the additions in that copy were manifestly arbitrary, and are generally injudicious. Malone. Slight as the authority of the second folio is here represented to be, who will venture to displace strange, and put any other word in its place? Steevens. I agree with the editors in considering this passage as erroneous, but not in the amendment proposed. That which I would suggest is, to read moon-like, instead of men-like, which is a more poetical expression, and nearer to the old reading than vane-like. M. Mason. I have not scrupled to place this happy emendation in the text: remarking at the same time that a vane is no where styled inconstant, although our author bestows that epithet on the moon in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; the inconstant moon “That monthly changes &lblank;.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; now from head to foot “I am marble-constant, now the fleeting moon “No planet is of mine.” Steevens. Again, more appositely, in As You Like It: “&lblank; being but a moonish youth, changeable,”—inconstant, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 744 9In pruning me?] A bird is said to prune himself when he picks and sleeks his feathers. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up “The crest of youth &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 745 1&lblank; a gait, a state,] State, I believe, in the present instance, is opposed to gait (i. e. the motion.) and signifies the act of standing. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Her motion and her station are as one.” Steevens.

Note return to page 746 2Our parson &lblank;] Here, as in a former instance, in the authentick copies of this play, this word is spelt person; but there being no reason for adhering here to the old spelling, the modern is preferred. Malone.

Note return to page 747 *First folio, it was.

Note return to page 748 †Folio and 4to.—He, he, and you: and you, my liege, and I.

Note return to page 749 *First folio, heaven will show his face.

Note return to page 750 †First folio, are.

Note return to page 751 3&lblank; the gorgeous east,] Milton has transplanted this into the third line of the second book of Paradise Lost: “Or where the gorgeous east &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 752 4She, an attending star,] Something like this is a stanza of Sir Henry Wotton, of which the poetical reader will forgive the insertion: “You meaner beauties of the night,   “That poorly satisfy our eyes, “More by your number than your light,   “You common people of the skies, “What are you when the sun shall rise?” Johnson. “&lblank; Micat inter omnes “Julium sidus, velut inter ignes “Luna minores.” Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 753 5My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón:] Here, and indeed throughout this play, the name of Birón is accented on the second syllable. In the first quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, he is always called Berowne. From the line before us it appears, that in our author's time the name was pronounced Biroon. Malone. This was the mode in which all French words of this termination were pronounced in English. Mr. Fox always in the House of Commons said Touloon when speaking of Toulon. Boswell.

Note return to page 754 6To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;] So, in our author's 21st Sonnet: “I will not praise, that purpose not to sell.” Malone.

Note return to page 755 7Is ebony like her? O wood divine!] Word is the reading of all the editions that I have seen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading (as I had likewise conjectured): &lblank; O wood divine! Theobald.

Note return to page 756 8&lblank; beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look: No face is fair, that is not full so black.] So, in our poet's 132d Sonnet: “&lblank; those two mourning eyes become thy face:— “O, let it then as well beseem thy heart “To mourn for me;— “Then will I swear, beauty herself is black, “And all they foul, that thy complexion lack.” See also his 127th Sonnet. Malone.

Note return to page 757 9&lblank; Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night;] In former editions: &lblank; the school of night. Black being the school of night, is a piece of mystery above my comprehension. I had guessed it should be: &lblank; the stole of night, But I have preferred the conjecture of my friend Mr. Warburton, who reads: &lblank; the scowl of night, as it comes nearer in pronunciation to the corrupted reading, as well as agrees better with the other images. Theobald. In our author's 148th Sonnet we have— “Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.” Malone.

Note return to page 758 1And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.] Crest is here properly opposed to badge. Black, says the king, is the badge of hell, but that which graces the heaven is the crest of beauty. Black darkens hell, and is therefore hateful: white adorns heaven, and is therefore lovely. Johnson. “And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well,” i. e. the very top, the height of beauty, or the utmost degree of fairness, becomes the heavens. So the word crest is explained by the poet himself in King John: “&lblank; this is the very top, “The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest “Of murder's arms.” In heraldry, a crest is a device placed above a coat of arms. Shakspeare therefore assumes the liberty to use it in a sense equivalent to top or utmost height, as he has used spire in Coriolanus: “&lblank; to the spire and top of praises vouch'd.” So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; the cap of all the fools alive” is the top of them all, because cap was the uppermost part of a man's dress. Tollet. Ben Jonson, in Love's Triumph through Calipolis, a Masque, says: “To you that are by excellence a queen, “The top of beauty,” &c. Again, in The Mirror of Knighthood, P. I. ch. xiv.: “&lblank; in the top and pitch of all beauty, so that theyr matches are not to bee had.” Steevens.

Note return to page 759 2&lblank; and usurping hair,] And, which is wanting in the old copies, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Usurping hair alludes to the fashion, which prevailed among ladies in our author's time, of wearing false hair, or periwigs, as they were then called, before that kind of covering for the head was worn by men. The sentiments here uttered by Biron, may be found, in nearly the same words, in our author's 127th Sonnet. Malone.

Note return to page 760 3&lblank; some quillets,] Quillet is the peculiar word applied to law-chicane. I imagine the original to be this. In the French pleadings, every several allegation in the plaintiff's charge, and every distinct plea in the defendant's answer, began with the words qu'il est:—from whence was formed the word quillet, to signify a false charge or an evasive answer. Warburton.

Note return to page 761 4&lblank; affection's men at arms:] A man at arms, is a soldier armed at all points both offensively and defensively. It is no more than, Ye soldiers of affection. Johnson.

Note return to page 762 5&lblank; hath forsworn &lblank;] Old copies—have. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 763 6&lblank; prisons up &lblank;] The quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, read—poisons up. The emendation was made by Mr. Theobald. A passage in King John may add some support to it: “Or, if that surly spirit, melancholy, “Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, “Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 764 7The nimble spirits in the arteries;] In the old system of physic they gave the same office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves; as appears from the name, which is derived from &gra;&gre;&grr;&gra; &grt;&grh;&grr;&gre;&gri;&grn;. Warburton.

Note return to page 765 8Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?] i. e. a lady's eyes give a fuller notion of beauty than any author. Johnson.

Note return to page 766 9With ourselves,] This hemistich, which is found both in the first 4to. and first folio, is omitted in all the modern editions. Mr. Capell has gone much further, and has cut out no less than fourteen lines of this speech. Boswell.

Note return to page 767 1&lblank; our books;] i. e. our true books, from which we derive most information;—the eyes of women. Malone.

Note return to page 768 2In leaden contemplation, have found out Such firy numbers,] Numbers are, in this passage, nothing more than poetical measures. Could you, says Biron, by solitary contemplation have attained such poetical fire, such spritely numbers, as have been prompted by the eyes of beauty? Johnson. “In leaden contemplation,” So in Milton's II Penseroso: “With a sad, leaden, downward cast.” Again, in Gray's Hymn to Adversity: “With leaden eye that loves the ground.” Steevens.

Note return to page 769 3Of beauteous tutors &lblank;] Old copies—beauty's. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 770 4Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;] As we say, keep the house, or keep their bed. M. Mason.

Note return to page 771 5&lblank; the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd;] i. e. a lover in pursuit of his mistress has his sense of hearing quicker than a thief (who suspects every sound he hears) in pursuit of his prey. Warburton. “The suspicious head of theft is the head suspicious of theft.” “He watches like one that fears robbing,” says Speed, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. This transposition of the adjective is sometimes met with. Grimme tells us, in Damon and Pythias: “A heavy pouch with golde makes a light hart.” Farmer. The thief is as watchful on his part, as the person who fears to be robbed, and Biron poetically makes theft a person. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason might have countenanced his explanation, by a passage in The Third Part of King Henry VI.: “Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind: “The thief doth fear each bush an officer:” and yet my opinion concurs with that of Dr. Farmer; though his explanation is again controverted, by a writer who signs himself Lucius in The Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786: “The suspicious head of theft (says he) is the suspicious head of the thief. There is no man who listens so eagerly as a thief, or whose ears are so acutely upon the stretch.” Steevens. I rather incline to Dr. Warburton's interpretation. Malone.

Note return to page 772 6&lblank; cockled &lblank;] i. e. inshelled, like the fish called a cockle. Steevens.

Note return to page 773 7Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?] Our author had heard or read of “the gardens of the Hesperides,” and seems to have thought that the latter word was the name of the garden in which the golden apples were kept; as we say, the gardens of the Tuilleries, &c. Our poet's contemporaries, I have lately observed, are chargeable with the same inaccuracy. So, in Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, by Robert Greene, 1598: “Shew thee the tree, leav'd with refined gold, “Whereon the fearful dragon held his seat, “That watch'd the garden, call'd Hesperides.” The word may have been used in the same sense in The Legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, a poem, 1597: “And, like the dragon of the Hesperides, “Shutteth the garden's gate &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 774 8As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;] This expression, like that other in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, of— “Orpheus' harp was strung with poet's sinews,” is extremely beautiful, and highly figurative. Apollo, as the sun, is represented with golden hair; so that a lute strung with his hair means no more than strung with gilded wire. Warburton. “&lblank; as sweet, and musical, “As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair.” The author of the Revisal supposes this expression to be allegorical, p. 138: “Apollo's lute strung with sunbeams, which in poetry are called hair.” But what idea is conveyed by Apollo's lute strung with sunbeams? Undoubtedly the words are to be taken in their literal sense; and in the style of Italian imagery, the thought is highly elegant. The very same sort of conception occurs in Lyly's Mydas, a play which most probably preceded Shakspeare's. Act V. Sc. I. Pan tells Apollo: “Had thy lute been of lawrell, and the strings of Daphne's haire, thy tunes might have been compared to my notes,” &c. T. Warton. Lyly's Mydas, quoted by Mr. Warton, was published in 1592. The same thought occurs in How to Chuse a Good Wife from a Bad, 1602: “Hath he not torn those gold wires from thy head, “Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, “And kept them to play musick to the gods?” Again, in Storer's Life and Death of Cardinal Wolsey, a poem, 1599: “With whose hart-strings Amphion's lute is strung, “And Orpheus' harp hangs warbling at his tongue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 775 9And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.] This nonsense we should read and point thus: “And when love speaks the voice of all the gods, “Mark, heaven drowsy with the harmony.” i. e. in the voice of love alone is included the voice of all the gods. Alluding to that ancient theogony, that love was the parent and support of all the gods. Hence, as Suidas tells us, Palæphatus wrote a poem called &GRAsg;&grf;&grr;&gro;&grd;&gri;&grt;&grh;&grst; &grk;&gra;&grig; &GREsg;&grr;&grw;&grt;&gro;&grst; &grf;&grw;&grn;&grha; &grk;&gra;&grig; &grl;&groa;&grg;&gro;&grst;, The Voice and Speech of Venus and Love, which appears to have been a kind of cosmogony, the harmony of which is so great, that it calms and allays all kinds of disorders: alluding again to the ancient use of music, which was to compose monarchs, when, by reason of the cares of empires, they used to pass whole nights in restless inquietude. Warburton. The ancient reading is— “Make heaven &lblank;.” Johnson. I cannot find any reason for Dr. Warburton's emendation, nor do I believe the poet to have been at all acquainted with that ancient theogony mentioned by his critick. The former reading, with the slight addition of a single letter, was, perhaps, the true one. “When love speaks,” says Biron, “the assembled gods reduce the element of the sky to a calm, by their harmonious applauses of this favoured orator.” Mr. Collins observes that the meaning of the passage may be this:—That the voice of all the gods united, could inspire only drowsiness, when compared with the cheerful effects of the voice of Love. That sense is sufficiently congruous to the rest of the speech: and much the same thought occurs in The Shepherd Arsileus Reply to Syrenus' Song, by Bar. Yong; published in England's Helicon, 1600: “Unlesse mild Love possesse your amorous breasts, “If you sing not to him, your songs do wearie.” Dr. Warburton has raised the idea of his author, by imputing to him a knowledge, of which, I believe, he was not possessed; but should either of these explanations prove the true one, I shall offer no apology for having made him stoop from the critick's elevation. I would, however, read: “Makes heaven drowsy with its harmony.” Though the words mark! and behold! are alike used to bespeak or summon attention, yet the former of them appears so harsh in Dr. Warburton's emendation, that I read the line several times over before I perceived its meaning. To speak the voice of the gods, appears to me as defective in the same way. Dr. Warburton, in a note on All's Well that Ends Well, observes, that to speak a sound is a barbarism. To speak a voice is, I think, no less reprehensible. Steevens. The meaning is,—whenever love speaks, all the gods join their voices with his in harmonious concert. Heath. “Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.” The old copies read make. The alteration was made by Sir T. Hanmer. More correct writers than Shakspeare often fall into this inaccuracy when a noun of multitude has preceded the verb. In a former part of this speech the same errour occurs: “&lblank; each of you have forsworn &lblank;.” So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; for every one of these letters are in my name.” Again, in King Henry V.: “The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, “Have lost their quality.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “The posture of your blows are yet unknown.” Again, more appositely, in King John: “How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds “Make ill deeds done.” So, Marlowe, in his Hero and Leander: “The outside of her garments were of lawn.” See, also, the sacred writings: “The number of the names together were about an hundred and twenty.” Acts i. 15. Malone. Few passages have been more canvassed than this. I believe, it wants no alteration of the words, but only of the pointing: “And when love speaks (the voice of all) the gods “Make heaven drowsy with thy harmony.” Love, I apprehend, is called the voice of all, as gold, in Timon, is said to speak with every tongue; and the gods (being drowsy themselves with the harmony) are supposed to make heaven drowsy. If one could possibly suspect Shakspeare of having read Pindar, one should say, that the idea of music making the hearers drowsy, was borrowed from the first Pythian. Tyrwhitt. Perhaps here is an accidental transposition. We may read, as, I think, some one has proposed before: “The voice makes all the gods “Of heaven drowsy with the harmony.” Farmer. That harmony had the power to make the hearers drowsy, the present commentator might infer from the effect it usually produces on himself. In Cinthia's Revenge, 1613, however, is an instance which should weigh more with the reader: “Howl forth some ditty, that vast hell may ring “With charms all potent, earth asleep to bring.” Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; music call, and strike more dead, “Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.” Steevens. So, also, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; softly pray; “Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, “Unless some dull and favourable hand “Will whisper musick to my wearied spirit.” Again, in Pericles, 1609: “&lblank; Most heavenly musick! “It nips me into listening, and thick slumber “Hangs on mine eyes.—Let me rest.” Malone.

Note return to page 776 1From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:] In this speech I suspect a more than common instance of the inaccuracy of the first publishers: “From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:” and several other lines, are as unnecessarily repeated. Dr. Warburton was aware of this, and omitted two verses, which Dr. Johnson has since inserted. Perhaps the players printed from piece-meal parts, or retained what the author had rejected, as well as what had undergone his revisal. It is here given according to the regulation of the old copies. Steevens. This and the two following lines are omitted by Warburton, not from inadvertency, but because they are repeated in a subsequent part of the speech. There are also some other lines repeated in the like manner. But we are not to conclude from thence, that any of these lines ought to be struck out. Biron repeats the principal topicks of his argument, as preachers do their text, in order to recall the attention of the auditors to the subject of their discourse. M. Mason.

Note return to page 777 2&lblank; a word that loves all men;] We should read; &lblank; a word all women love. The following line: “Or for men's sake (the authors of these women;)” which refers to this reading, puts it out of all question. Warburton. Perhaps we might read thus, transposing the lines: “Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men; “For women's sake, by whom we men are men; “Or for men's sake, the authors of these women.” The antithesis of a word that all men love, and a word which loves all men, though in itself worth little, has much of the spirit of this play. Johnson. There will be no difficulty, if we correct it to, “men's sakes, the authors of these words. Farmer. I think no alteration should be admitted in these four lines, that destroys the artificial structure of them, in which, as has been observed by the author of The Revisal, the word which terminates every line is prefixed to the word sake in that immediately following. Tollet. “&lblank; a word that loves all men;” i. e. that is pleasing to all men. So, in the language of our author's time:—it likes me well, for it pleases me. Shakspeare uses the word thus licentiously, merely for the sake of the antithesis. Men in the following line are with sufficient propriety said to be authors of women, and these again of men, the aid of both being necessary to the continuance of human kind. There is surely, therefore, no need of any of the alterations that have been proposed to be made in these lines. Malone.

Note return to page 778 3&lblank; the authors &lblank;] Old copies—author. The emendation was suggested by Dr. Johnson. Malone.

Note return to page 779 4Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;] So, in King Richard III.: “Advance our standards, set upon our foes—” Steevens.

Note return to page 780 5&lblank; but be first advis'd, In conflict that you get the sun of them.] In the days of archery, it was of consequence to have the sun at the back of the bowmen, and in the face of the enemy. This circumstance was of great advantage to our Henry the Fifth at the battle of Agincourt. —Our poet, however, I believe, had also an equivoque in his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 781 6Fore-run fair Love,] i. e. Venus. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Now for the love of Love, and her soft hours &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 782 7&lblank; Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;] This proverbial expression intimates, that beginning with perjury, they can expect to reap nothing but falsehood. The following lines lead us to the sense. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's first interpretation of this passage, which is preserved in Mr. Theobald's edition,—“if we don't take the proper measures for winning these ladies, we shall never achieve them,”—is undoubtedly the true one. Heath. Mr. Edwards, however, approves of Dr. Warburton's second thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 783 8If so, our copper buys no better treasure.] Here Mr. Theobald ends the third Act. Johnson.

Note return to page 784 9Satis quod sufficit.] i. e. Enough's as good as a feast. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 1&lblank; your reasons at dinner have been, &c.] I know not well what degree of respect Shakspeare intends to obtain for his vicar, but he has here put into his mouth a finished representation of colloquial excellence. It is very difficult to add any thing to his character of the schoolmaster's table-talk, and perhaps all the precepts of Castiglione will scarcely be found to comprehend a rule for conversation so justly delineated, so widely dilated, and so nicely limited. It may be proper just to note, that reason here, and in many other places, signifies discourse; and that audacious is used in a good sense for spirited, animated, confident. Opinion is the same with obstinacy or opiniatreté. Johnson. So again, in this play: “Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.” Audacious was not always used by our ancient writers in a bad sense. It means no more here, and in the following instance from Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, than liberal or commendable boldness: “&lblank; she that shall be my wife, must be accomplished with courtly and audacious ornaments.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 2&lblank; without affection,] i. e. without affectation. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; No matter that might indite the author of affection.” Again, in Twelfth-Night, Malvolio is called “an affection'd ass.” Steevens.

Note return to page 787 3&lblank; his tongue filed,] Chaucer, Skelton, and Spenser, are frequent in the use of this phrase. Ben Jonson has it likewise. Steevens.

Note return to page 788 4&lblank; thrasonical.] The use of the word thrasonical is no argument that the author had read Terence. It was introduced to our language long before Shakspeare's time. Farmer. It is found in Bullokar's Expositor, 8vo. 1616. Malone.

Note return to page 789 5He is too picked,] To have the beard piqued or shorn so as to end in a point, was, in our author's time, a mark of a traveller affecting foreign fashions: so says the Bastard in King John: “&lblank; I catechise “My piqued man of countries.” Johnson. See a note on King John, Act I. and another on King Lear, where the reader will find the epithet piqued differently spelt and interpreted. Piqued may allude to the length of the shoes then worn. Bulwer, in his Artificial Changeling, says: “We weare our forked shoes almost as long again as our feete, not a little to the hindrance of the action of the foote; and not only so, but they prove an impediment to reverentiall devotion, for our bootes and shooes are so long snouted, that we can hardly kneele in God's house.” Steevens. I believe picked (for so it should be written) signifies nicely drest in general, without reference to any particular fashion of dress. It is a metaphor taken from birds, who dress themselves by picking out or pruning their broken or superfluous feathers. So Chaucer uses the word, in his description of Damian dressing himself, Canterbury Tales, v. 9885: “He kembeth him, he proineth him and piketh.” And Shakspeare, in this very play, uses the corresponding word pruning for dressing, Act IV. Sc. III.: “&lblank; or spend a minute's time “In pruning me &lblank;.” The substantive pickedness is used by Ben Jonson for nicety in dress. Discoveries, vol. vii. Whalley's edit. p. 116: “&lblank; too much pickedness is not manly.” Tyrwhitt. Again, in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Penniless, 1593: “&lblank; he might have showed a picked effeminate carpet knight, under the fictionate person of Hermaphroditus.” Malone.

Note return to page 790 6&lblank; phantasms,] See Act IV. Sc. I.: “A phantasm, a Monarcho &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 791 7&lblank; point-devise &lblank;] A French expression for the utmost, or finical exactness. So, in Twelfth Night, Malvolio says: “I will be point-device, the very man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 792 8This is abhominable, &c.] He has here well imitated the language of the most redoubtable pedants of that time. On such sort of occasions, Joseph Scaliger used to break out:—“Abominor, execror. Asinitas mera est, impietas,” &c. and calls his adversary: “Lutum stercore maceratum, dæmoniacum recrementum inscitiæ, sterquilinium, stercus diaboli, scarabæum, larvam, pecus postremum bestiarum, infame propudium, &grk;&gra;&grq;&gra;&grr;&grm;&gra;.” Warburton. Shakspeare knew nothing of this language; and the resemblance which Dr. Warburton finds, if it deserves that title, is quite accidental. It is far more probable, that he means to ridicule the foppish manner of speaking, and affected pronunciation, introduced at court by Lyly and his imitators. Steevens. “&lblank; abhominable,” Thus the word is constantly spelt in the old moralities and other antiquated books. So, in Lusty Juventus, 1561: “And then I will bryng in “Abhominable lyving.” Steevens.

Note return to page 793 9&lblank; it insinuateth me of insanie; &c.] In former editions,— “it insinuateth me of infamie: Ne intelligis, Domine? to make frantick, lunatick. “Nath. Laus Deo, bone intelligo. “Hol. Bome, boon for boon Priscian; a little scratch, 'twill serve.” Why should infamy be explained by making frantick, lunatick? It is plain and obvious that the poet intended the pedant should coin an uncouth affected word here, insanie, from insania of the Latins. Then, what a piece of unintelligible jargon have these learned criticks given us for Latin? I think, I may venture to affirm, I have restored the passage to its true purity: “Nath. Laus Deo, bone, intelligo.” The curate, addressing with complaisance his brother pedant, says, bone, to him, as we frequently in Terence find bone vir; but the pedant, thinking he had mistaken the adverb, thus descants on it: “Bone?—bone, for benè: Priscian a little scratched: 'twill serve.” Alluding to the common phrase,—Diminuis Prisciani caput, applied to such as speak false Latin. Theobald. There seems yet something wanting to the integrity of this passage, which Mr. Theobald has in the most corrupt and difficult places very happily restored. For Ne intelligis domine? to make frantick, lunatick, I read (nonne intelligis, domine?) to be mad, frantick, lunatick. Johnson. Insanie appears to have been a word anciently used. In a book entitled, The Fall and evil Successe of Rebellion from Time to Time, &c. written in verse by Wilfride Holme, imprinted at London by Henry Bynneman; without date, (though from the concluding stanza, it appears to have been produced in the 8th year of the reign of Henry VIII.) I find the word used:   “In the days of sixth Henry, Jack Cade made a brag, “With a multitude of people; but in the consequence,   “After a little insanie they fled tag and rag, “For Alexander Iden he did his diligence.” Steevens. I should rather read—“it insinuateth men of insanie.” Farmer. Me is printed for men in King Edward the Third, 1596, D 2. “&lblank; me like lanthorne shew, “Light lust within themselves, even through themselves.” Malone.

Note return to page 794 1They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.] So, in Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, by Thomas Nashe, 1594:—“The phrase of sermons, as it ought to agree with the Scripture, so heed must be taken, that their whole sermon seem not a banquet of the broken fragments of scripture.” Malone.

Note return to page 795 2the alms-basket of words!] i. e. the refuse of words!] i. e. the refuse of words. The refuse meat of great families was formerly sent to the prisons. So, in The Inner Temple Masque, 1619, by T. Middleton: “&lblank; his perpetual lodging in the King's Bench, and his ordinary out of the basket.” Again, in If this be not a good Play the Devil is in it, 1612: “He must feed on beggary's basket.” Steevens. The refuse meat of families was put into a basket in our author's time, and given to the poor. So, in Florio's Second Frutes, 1591: “Take away the table, fould up the cloth, and put all those pieces of broken meat into a basket for the poor.” Malone.

Note return to page 796 3&lblank; honorificabilitudinitatibus:] This word, whencesoever it comes, is often mentioned as the longest word known. Johnson. It occurs likewise in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 1604: “His discourse is like the long word honorificabilitudinitatibus; a great deal of sound and no sense.” I meet with it likewise in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 797 4&lblank; a flap-dragon.] A flap-dragon is a small inflammable substance, which topers swallow in a glass of wine. See a note on King Henry IV. P. II. Act II. Sc. ult. Steevens.

Note return to page 798 5The third of the five vowels, &c.] In former editions: “Moth. The last of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth if I. “Hol. I will repeat them, a, e, I.— “Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it; o, u.” Is not the last and the fifth the same vowel? Though my correction restores but a poor conundrum, yet if it restores the poet's meaning, it is the duty of an editor to trace him in his lowest conceits. By O, U, Moth would mean—Oh, you—i. e. You are the sheep still, either way; no matter which of us repeats them. Theobald.

Note return to page 799 6&lblank; a quick venew of wit;] A venew is the technical term for a bout at the fencing-school. So, in The Four Prentices of London, 1615: “&lblank; in the fencing-school “To play a venew.” Steevens. A venue, as has already been observed, is the technical term used by fencers for a hit. “A sweet touch of wit, (says Armado,) a smart hit.” So, in The Famous Historie of Captain Thomas Stukely, b. l. 1605: “&lblank; for forfeits, and vennyes given, upon a wager, at the ninth button of your doublet, thirty crowns.” Malone. Notwithstanding the positiveness with which my sense of the word venue is denied, my quotation sufficiently establishes it; for who ever talked of playing a hit in a fencing school? Steevens. See Mr. Steevens's note on “Three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes,” Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. I.: “Veneys, i. e. venues, French. Three different set-tos, bouts (or hits, as Mr. Malone perhaps more properly explains the word), a technical term.” Malone. Mr. Douce has corroborated Mr. Malone's explanation, by a number of examples. Boswell.

Note return to page 800 7&lblank; I will whip about your infamy circùm circà;] So, as Dr. Farmer observes, in Greene's Quip for an upstart Courtier: “He walked not as other men in the common beaten waye, but compassing circum circa.” The old copies read—unum cita. Steevens. Here again all the editions give us jargon instead of Latin. But Moth would certainly mean—circum circa; i. e. about and about: though it may be designed he should mistake the terms. Theobald.

Note return to page 801 *Folio and quarto, preambulat.

Note return to page 802 8&lblank; the charge-house &lblank;] I suppose, is the free-school. Steevens.

Note return to page 803 9&lblank; inward &lblank;] i. e. confidential, So, in K. Richard III.: “Who is most inward with the noble duke?” Steevens.

Note return to page 804 1I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy;—I beseech thee, apparel thy head:] I believe the word not was inadvertently omitted by the transcriber or compositor; and that we should read—I do beseech thee, remember not thy courtesy.—Armado is boasting of the familiarity with which the King treats him, and intimates (“but let that pass,”) that when he and his Majesty converse, the King lays aside all state, and makes him wear his hat: “I do beseech thee, (will he say to me) remember not thy courtesy; do not observe any ceremony with me; be covered.” “The putting off the hat at the table (says Florio, in his Second Frutes, 1591,) is a kind of courtesie or ceremonie rather to be avoided than otherwise.” These words may, however, be addressed by Armado to Holofernes, whom we may suppose to have stood uncovered from respect to the Spaniard. If this was the poet's intention, they ought to be included in a parenthesis. To whomsoever the words are supposed to be addressed, the emendation appears to me equally necessary. It is confirmed by a passage in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Give me your neif, mounsier Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesie, mounsier.” In Hamlet, the prince, when he desires Osrick to “put his bonnet to the right use,” begins his address with the same words which Armado uses: but unluckily is interrupted by the courtier, and prevented (as I believe) from using the very word which I suppose to have been accidentally omitted here: “Ham. I beseech you, remember— “Osr. Nay, good my lord, for my ease, in good faith.” In the folio copy of this play we find in the next scene: “O, that your face were so full of O's—” instead of—were not so full, &c. Malone. By “remember thy courtesy,” I suppose Armado means—remember that all this time thou art standing with thy hat off. Steevens.

Note return to page 805 2&lblank; dally with my excrement,] The author calls the beard valour's excrement in the Merchant of Venice. Johnson.

Note return to page 806 3&lblank; chuck,] i. e. chicken; an ancient term of endearment. So, in Macbeth: “Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 *Folio and quarto, Sir Holofernes.

Note return to page 808 4&lblank; myself, or this gallant gentleman,] The old copy has— and this, &c. The correction was made by Mr. Steevens. We ought, I believe, to read in the next line—shall pass for Pompey the great. If the text be right, the speaker must mean that the swain shall, in representing Pompey, surpass him, “because of his great limb.” Malone. “Shall pass Pompey the great,” seems to mean, shall march in the procession for him; walk as his representative. Steevens.

Note return to page 809 5&lblank; to make an offence gracious;] i. e. to convert an offence against yourselves, into a dramatic propriety. Steevens.

Note return to page 810 6&lblank; if this fadge not,] i. e. suit not, go not, pass not into action. Several instances of the use of this word are given in Twelfth-Night, Another may be added from Chapman's version of the 22d Iliad: “This fadging conflict.” Steevens.

Note return to page 811 7Via,] An Italian exclamation, signifying, Courage! come on! Steevens.

Note return to page 812 8&lblank; to make his god-head wax;] To wax anciently signified to grow. It is yet said of the moon, that she waxes and wanes. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song I.: “I view those wanton brooks that waxing still do wane.” Again, in Lyly's Love's Metamorphoses, 1601: “Men's follies will ever wax, and then what reason can make them wise?” Again, in the Polyolbion, Song V.: “The stem shall strongly wax, as still the trunk doth wither.” Steevens.

Note return to page 813 9&lblank; mouse,] This was a term of endearment formerly. So, in Hamlet: “Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse.” Malone.

Note return to page 814 1&lblank; taking it in snuff;] Snuff is here used equivocally for anger, and the snuff of a candle. See more instances of this conceit in King Henry IV. P. I. Act I. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 815 2&lblank; for, Past cure is still past care.] The old copy reads— past care is still past cure. The transposition was proposed by Dr. Thirlby, and is supported by a line in King Richard II.: “Things past redress are now with me past care.” So, also, in a pamphlet entitled Holland's Leaguer, 4to. 1632: “She had got this adage in her mouth. Things past cure, past care.” Malone.

Note return to page 816 3&lblank; a set of wit &lblank;] A term from tennis, So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; play a set “Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 4'Ware pencils!] The former editions read: “Were pencils &lblank;.” Sir T. Hanmer here rightly restored: “'Ware pencils &lblank;.” Rosaline, a black beauty, reproaches the fair Katharine for painting. Johnson. Johnson mistakes the meaning of this sentence; it is not a reproach, but a cautionary threat. Rosaline says that Biron had drawn her picture in his letter; and afterwards playing on the word letter, Katharine compares her to a text B. Rosaline in reply advises her to beware of pencils, that is, of drawing likenesses, lest she should retaliate; which she afterwards does, by comparing her to a red dominical letter, and calling her marks of the small pox oes, M. Mason.

Note return to page 818 *First folio omits not so.

Note return to page 819 5&lblank; so full of O's!] Shakspeare talks of “&lblank; firy O's and eyes of light,” in A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Steevens.

Note return to page 820 6A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows!] “Pox of that jest!” Mr. Theobald is scandalized at this language from a princess. But there needs no alarm—the small pox only is alluded to; with which, it seems, Katharine was pitted; or, as it is quaintly expressed, “her face was full of O's.” Davison has a canzonet on his lady's sicknesse of the poxe: and Dr. Donne writes to his sister:—“at my return from Kent, I found Pegge had the Poxe— I humbly thank God, it hath not much disfigured her.” Farmer. “A pox of that jest,” &c. This line, which in the old copies is given to the Princess, Mr. Theobald rightly attributed to Katharine. Malone.

Note return to page 821 7But what was sent to you from fair Dumain?] The old copies, after But, insert Katharine. We should, therefore, read: “But, Katharine, what was sent you from Dumain?” Ritson.

Note return to page 822 8&lblank; in by the week!] This I suppose to be an expression taken from hiring servants or artificers; meaning, I wish I was as sure of his service for any time limited, as if I had hired him. The expression was a common one. So, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “What, are you in by the week? So; I will try now whether thy wit be close prisoner.” Again, in The Wit of a Woman, 1604: “Since I am in by the week, let me look to the year.” Steevens.

Note return to page 823 9&lblank; wholly to my behests;] The quarto, 1598, and the first folio, read—to my device. The emendation, which the rhyme confirms, was made by the editor of the second folio, and is one of the very few corrections of any value to be found in that copy. Malone. Mr. Malone, however, admits three other corrections from the second folio in this very sheet. Steevens.

Note return to page 824 1And make him proud to make me proud that jests!] The meaning of this obscure line seems to be,—I would make him proud to flatter me who make a mock of his flattery.—Edinburg Magazine, for Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 825 2So portent-like, &c.] In former copies: “So pertaunt-like, would I o'er-sway his state, “That he should be my fool, and I his fate.” In old farces, to show the inevitable approaches of death and destiny, the Fool of the farce is made to employ all his stratagems to avoid Death or Fate; which very stratagems, as they are ordered, bring the Fool, at every turn, into the very jaws of Fate. To this Shakspeare alludes again in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; merely thou art Death's Fool; “For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, “And yet run'st towards him still &lblank;.” It is plain from all this, that the nonsense of pertaunt-like, should be read, portent-like, i. e. I would be his fate or destiny, and, like a portent, hang over, and influence his fortunes. For portents were not only thought to forebode, but to influence. So the Latins called a person destined to bring mischief, fatale portentum. Warburton. The emendation appeared first in the Oxford edition. Malone. Until some proof be brought of the existence of such characters as Death and the Fool, in old farces, (for the mere assertion of Dr. Warburton is not to be relied on,) this passage must be literally understood, independently of any particular allusion. The old reading might probably mean—“so scoffingly would I o'ersway,” &c. The initial letter in Stowe, mentioned by Mr. Reed in a note on the passage in Measure for Measure, here cited, has been altogether misunderstood. It is only a copy from an older letter which formed part of a Death's Dance, in which Death and the Fool were always represented. I have several of these alphabets. Douce.

Note return to page 826 3None are so, &c.] These are observations worthy of a man who has surveyed human nature with the closest attention. Johnson.

Note return to page 827 4&lblank; to wantonness.] The quarto, 1598, and the first folio, have—to wantons be. For this emendation we are likewise indebted to the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 828 *First folio omits is.

Note return to page 829 5Saint Dennis to saint Cupid!] The princess of France invokes, with too much levity, the patron of her country, to oppose his power to that of Cupid. Johnson. Johnson censures the Princess for invoking with so much levity the patron of her country, to oppose his power to that of Cupid; but that was not her intention. Being determined to engage the King and his followers, she gives for the word of battle St. Dennis, as the King, when he was determined to attack her, had given for the word of battle St. Cupid: “Saint Cupid then, and soldiers to the field.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 830 6&lblank; spleen ridiculous &lblank;] Is, a ridiculous fit of laughter. Johnson. The spleen was anciently supposed to be the cause of laughter. So, in some old Latin verses already quoted on another occasion: “Splen ridere facit, cogit amare jecur.” Steevens.

Note return to page 831 7&lblank; passion's solemn tears.] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Made mine eyes water, but more merry tears “The passion of loud laughter never shed.” Malone.

Note return to page 832 8Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess,] The settling commerce in Russia was, at that time, a matter that much ingrossed the concern and conversation of the publick. There had been several embassies employed thither on that occasion; and several tracts of the manners and state of that nation written: so that a mask of Muscovites was as good an entertainment to the audience of that time, as a coronation has been since. Warburton. A mask of Muscovites was no uncommon recreation at court long before our author's time. In the first year of King Henry the Eighth, at a banquet made for the foreign embassadors in the parliament-chamber at Westminster: “came the lorde Henry, Earle of Wiltshire, and the lorde Fitzwater, in twoo long gounes of yellowe satin travarsed with white satin, and in every ben of white was a bend of crimosen satin after the fashion of Russia or Ruslande, with furred hattes of grey on their hedes, either of them havyng an hatchet in their handes, and bootes with pykes turned up.” Hall, Henry VIII. p. 6. This extract may serve to convey an idea of the dress used upon the present occasion by the King and his lords at the performance of the play. Ritson.

Note return to page 833 *First folio, your.

Note return to page 834 9&lblank; her face.] The first folio, and the quarto, 1598, have —his face. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 835 *First folio, keepers.

Note return to page 836 1&lblank; will ne'er come in,] The quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, read—will e'er. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 837 2Beauties no richer than rich taffata.] i. e. the taffata masks they wore to conceal themselves. All the editors concur to give this line to Biron; but, surely, very absurdly: for he's one of the zealous admirers, and hardly would make such an inference. Boyet is sneering at the parade of their address, is in the secret of the ladies' stratagem, and makes himself sport at the absurdity of their proem, in complimenting their beauty, when they were mask'd. It therefore comes from him with the utmost propriety. Theobald.

Note return to page 838 3To tread a measure &lblank;] The measures were dances solemn and slow. They were performed at court, and at public entertainments of the societies of law and equity, at their halls, on particular occasions. It was formerly not deemed inconsistent with propriety even for the gravest persons to join in them; and accordingly at the revels which were celebrated at the inns of court, it has not been unusual for the first characters in the law to become performers in treading the measures. See Dugdale's Origines Juridiciales. Sir John Davies, in his poem called Orchestra, 1622, describes them in this manner: “But, after these, as men more civil grew,   “He did more grave and solemn measures frame: “With such fair order and proportion true,   “And correspondence ev'ry way the same, “That no fault-finding eye did ever blame,   “For every eye was moved at the sight, “With sober wond'ring and with sweet delight.   “Not those young students of the heavenly book, “Atlas the great, Prometheus the wise,   “Which on the stars did all their life-time look, “Could ever find such measure in the skies,   “So full of change, and rare varieties; “Yet all the feet whereon these measures go,   “Are only spondees, solemn, grave, and slow.” Reed. See Beatrice's description of this dance in Much Ado About Nothing, Act II. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 839 *So quarto; folio, you.

Note return to page 840 4Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars,] When Queen Elizabeth asked an embassador, how he liked her ladies, “It is hard,” said he, “to judge of stars in the presence of the sun.” Johnson.

Note return to page 841 *Folio and 4to. requests.

Note return to page 842 †Quarto do but.

Note return to page 843 5&lblank; the man.] I suspect that a line which rhymed with this, has been lost. Malone. Although these dialogues are for the most part in rhyme, yet many exceptions occur, as in p. 152: “Ros. Come on then; wear the favours most in sight. “Kath. But in this changing, what is your intent? “Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs.” Neither the first nor third of these lines rhyme with any other. Boswell.

Note return to page 844 6Court'sy, sweet hearts;] See Tempest, Act I. Sc. II.: “Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 845 *First folio omits you.

Note return to page 846 7Since you can cog,] To cog, signifies to falsify the dice, and to falsify a narrative, or to lye. Johnson.

Note return to page 847 8Veal, quoth the Dutchman; &lblank;] I suppose by veal, she means well, sounded as foreigners usually pronounce that word; and introduced merely for the sake of the subsequent question. Malone. The same joke occurs in The Wisdome of Dr. Dodypoll “Doctor. Hans, my very speciall friend; fait and trot me be right glad for see you veale. “Hans. What, do you make a calfe of me, M. Doctor?” Boswell.

Note return to page 848 9Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.] Mr. Ritson observes, that, for the sake of measure, the word bullets should be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 849 1Well-liking wits &lblank;] Well-liking is the same as embonpoint. So, in Job xxxix. 4: “&lblank; Their young ones are in good liking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 850 2O! they were all, &c.] O, which is not found in the first quarto or folio, was added by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 851 3No point, quoth I;] Point in French is an adverb of negation; but, if properly spoken, is not sounded like the point of a sword. A quibble, however, is intended. From this and the other passages it appears, that either our author was not well acquainted with the pronunciation of the French language, or it was different formerly from what it is at present. The former supposition appears to me much the more probable of the two. In The Return from Parnassus, 1606, Philomusus says— “Tit, tit, tit, non poynte; non debet fieri,” &c. See also Florio's Italian Dict. 1598, in v. “Punto;—never a whit;— no point, as the Frenchmen say.” Malone.

Note return to page 852 4&lblank; better wits have worn plain statute-caps.] This line is not universally understood, because every reader does not know that a statute-cap is part of the academical habit. Lady Rosaline declares that her expectation was disappointed by these courtly students, and that better wits might be found in the common places of education. Johnson. Woollen caps were enjoined by act of parliament, in the year 1571, the 13th of Queen Elizabeth. “Besides the bills passed into acts this parliament, there was one which I judge not amiss to be taken notice of—it concerned the Queen's care for employment for her poor sort of subjects. It was for continuance of making and wearing woollen caps, in behalf of the trade of cappers; providing, that all above the age of six years, (except the nobility and some others,) should on sabbath days and holy days, wear caps of wool, knit, thicked, and drest in England, upon penalty of ten groats.” Strype's Annals of Queen Elizabeth, vol. ii. p. 74. Grey. This act may account for the distinguishing mark of Mother Red-cap. I have observed that mention is made of this sign by some of our ancient pamphleteers and playwriters, as far back as the date of the act referred to by Dr. Grey. If that your cap be wool—became a proverbial saying. So, in Hans Beerpot, a comedy, 1618: “You shall not flinch; if that your cap be wool, “You shall along.” Steevens. I think my own interpretation of this passage is right. Johnson. Probably the meaning is—better wits may be found among the citizens, who are not in general remarkable for sallies of imagination. In Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 1605, Mrs. Mulligrub says: “&lblank; though my husband be a citizen, and his cap's made of wool, yet I have wit.” Again, in The Family of Love, 1608: “'Tis a law enacted by the common-council of statute-caps.” Again, in Newes from Hell, brought by the Devil's Carrier, 1606: “&lblank; in a bowling alley in a flat cap like a shop-keeper.” That these sumptuary laws, which dictated the form and materials of caps, the dimensions of ruffs, and the length of swords, were executed with great exactness but little discretion, by a set of people placed at the principal avenues of the city, may be known from the following curious passage in a letter from Lord Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, June 1580: “The French Imbasidore, Mounswer Mouiser, [Mauvisiere, or, rather, Malvoisier,] ridinge to take the ayer, in his returne cam thowrowe Smithfield; and ther, at the bars, was steayed by thos officers that sitteth to cut sourds, by reason his raper was longer than the statute: He was in a great feaurie, and dreawe his raper. In the meane season my Lord Henry Seamore cam, and so steayed the matt.r Hir Matie is greatlie ofended with the ofisers, in that they wanted jugement.” See Lodge's Illustrations of British History, vol. ii. p. 228. Steevens. The statute mentioned by Dr. Grey was repealed in the year 1597. The epithet by which these statute caps are described, “plain statute caps,” induces me to believe the interpretation given in the preceding note by Mr. Steevens, the true one. The king and his lords probably wore hats adorned with feathers. So they are represented in the print prefixed to this play in Mr. Rowe's edition, probably from some stage tradition. Malone.

Note return to page 853 5Fair ladies mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.] This strange nonsense, made worse by the jumbling together and transposing the lines, I directed Mr. Theobald to read thus: “Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud: “Or angels veil'd in clouds: are roses blown, “Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown.” But he, willing to show how well he could improve a thought, would print it: “Or angel-veiling clouds &lblank;” i. e. clouds which veil angels: and by this means gave us, as the old proverb says, a cloud for a Juno. It was Shakspeare's purpose to compare a fine lady to an angel; it was Mr. Theobald's chance to compare her to a cloud: and perhaps the ill-bred reader will say a lucky one. However, I supposed the poet could never be so nonsensical as to compare a masked lady to a cloud, though he might compare her mask to one. The Oxford editor, who had the advantage both of this emendation and criticism, is a great deal more subtile and refined, and says it should not be— “&lblank; angels veil'd in clouds;” but “&lblank; angels vailing clouds:” i. e. capping the sun as they go by him, just as a man vails his bonnet. Warburton. I know not why Sir T. Hanmer's explanation should be treated with so much contempt, or why vailing clouds should be capping the sun. Ladies unmask'd, says Boyet, are like angels vailing clouds, or letting those clouds which obscured their brightness, sink from before them. What is there in this absurd or contemptible? Johnson. Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 91, says: “The Britains began to avale the hills where they had lodged:” i. e. they began to descend the hills, or come down from them to meet their enemies. If Shakspeare uses the word vailing in this sense, the meaning is—Angels descending from clouds which concealed their beauties; but Dr. Johnson's exposition may be better. Tollet. To avale comes from the Fr. aval [Terme de batelier] Down, downward, down the stream. So, in the French Romant de la Rose, v. 1415: “Leaue aloit aval enfaisant “Son melodieux et plaisant.” Again, in Laneham's Narrative of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, 1575: “&lblank; as on a sea-shore when the water is avail'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 854 6&lblank; shapeless gear;] Shapeless, for uncouth, or what Shakspeare elsewhere calls diffused. Warburton.

Note return to page 855 7Exeunt Princess, &c.] Mr. Theobald ends the fourth Act here. Johnson.

Note return to page 856 *So quarto; folio omits thither.

Note return to page 857 8&lblank; pecks up wit, as pigeons peas;] This expression is proverbial: “Children pick up words as pigeons peas, “And utter them again as God shall please.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens. Pecks is the reading of the first quarto. The folio has—picks. That pecks is the true reading, is ascertained by one of Nashe's tracts; Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, 1594: “The sower scattered some seede by the highway side, which the foules of the ayre peck'd up.” Malone.

Note return to page 858 9&lblank; wassels,] Wassels were meetings of rustic mirth and intemperance. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Antony, “Leave thy lascivious wassels.” &lblank; See note on Macbeth, Act I. Sc. VII. Steevens. Waes heal, that is, be of health, was a salutation first used by the Lady Rowena to King Vortiger. Afterwards it became a custom in villages, on new year's eve and twelfth-night, to carry a wassel or waissail bowl from house to house, which was presented with the Saxon words above mentioned. Hence in process of time wassel signified intemperance in drinking, and also a meeting for the purpose of festivity. Malone.

Note return to page 859 1He can carve too, and lisp:] The character of Boyet, as drawn by Biron, represents an accomplished squire of the days of chivalry, particularly in the instances here noted.—“Le jeune Ecuyer apprenoit long-temps dans le silence cet art de bien parler, lorsqu'en qualité d' Ecuyer Tranchant, il étoit debout dans les repas & dans les festins, occupé à couper les viandes avec la propreté, l'addresse & l'elegance convenables, et à les faire distribuer aux nobles convives dont il étoit environné. Joinville, dans sa jeunesse, avoit rempli à la cour de Saint Louis cet office, qui, dans les maisons des Souverains, étoit quelquefois exercé par leurs propres enfans.” Memoires sur l'ancienne Chevalerie, tom. i. p. 16. Henley. “I cannot cog, (says Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor,) and say, thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds, that come like women in men's apparel &lblank;.” On the subject of carving, see Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 860 2A mean most meanly; &c.] The mean, in musick, is the tenor. So, Bacon: “The treble cutteth the air so sharp, as it returneth too swift to make the sound equal; and therefore a mean or tenor is the sweetest.” Again, in Herod and Antipater, 1622: “Thus sing we descant on one plain-song, kill; “Four parts in one; the mean excluded quite.” Again, in Drayton's Barons' Wars, Cant. iii.: “The base and treble married to the mean.” Steevens.

Note return to page 861 3&lblank; as white as whales bone:] As white as whales bone is a proverbial comparison in the old poets. In The Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. 1. st. 15: “Whose face did seem as clear as chrystal stone, “And eke, through feare, as white as whales bone.” And in L. Surrey, fol. 14, edit. 1567: “I might perceive a wolf, as white as whales bone, “A fairer beast of fresher hue, beheld I never none.” Skelton joins the whales bone with the brightest precious stones, in describing the position of Pallas: “A hundred steppes mounting to the halle,   “One of jasper, another of whales bone; “Of diamantes, pointed by the rokky walle.” Crowne of Laurell, p. 24, edit. 1736. T. Warton. “&lblank; as whales bone:” The Saxon genitive case. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Swifter than the moones sphere.” It should be remember'd that some of our ancient writers supposed ivory to be part of the bones of a whale. The same simile occurs in the old black letter romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “The erle had no chylde but one, “A mayden as white as whales bone.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Isembras, bl. l. no date: “His wyfe as white as whales bone.” Again, in the Squhr of Low Degree, bl. l. no date: “Lady as white as whales bone.” Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; his herrings which were as white as whales bone,” &c. Steevens. This white whale his bone, now superseded by ivory, was the tooth of the Horse-whale, Morse, or Walrus, as appears by King Alfred's preface to his Saxon translation of Orosius. Holt White.

Note return to page 862 4&lblank; Behaviour, what wert thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?] These are two wonderfully fine lines, intimating that what courts call manners, and value themselves so much upon teaching, as a thing no where else to be learnt, is a modest silent accomplishment under the direction of nature and common sense, which does its office in promoting social life without being taken notice of. But that when it degenerates into show and parade, it becomes an unmanly contemptible quality. Warburton. What is told in this note is undoubtedly true, but is not comprized in the quotation. Johnson. “Till this man show'd thee?” The old copies read—“Till this mad man,” &c. Steevens. An error of the press. The word mad must be struck out. M. Mason.

Note return to page 863 *Folio and quarto, delights.

Note return to page 864 5The virtue of your eye must break my oath.] I believe our author means that the virtue, in which word goodness and power are both comprised, must dissolve the obligation of the oath. The Princess, in her answer, takes the most invidious part of the ambiguity. Johnson.

Note return to page 865 6My lady, (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.] To the manner of the days, means according to the manner of the times.—Gives undeserving praise, means praise to what does not deserve it. M. Mason.

Note return to page 866 7My, gentle sweet,] Sweet is generally used as a substantive by our author, in his addresses to ladies. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; When you speak, sweet, “I'd have you do it ever.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “And now, good sweet, say thy opinion.” Again, in Othello: “&lblank; O, my sweet, “I prattle out of tune.” The editor of the second folio, with less probability, (as it appears to me,) reads—Fair, gentle sweet. Malone. The word fair, which is wanting in the two elder copies, was restored by the second folio. Mr. Malone reads—“My gentle sweet.” “My fair, sweet honey monarch” occurs in this very scene, p. 439. Steevens.

Note return to page 867 8&lblank; when we greet, &c.] This is a very lofty and elegant compliment. Johnson.

Note return to page 868 9&lblank; my friend;] i. e. mistress. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; he hath got his friend with child.” Steevens.

Note return to page 869 1Three-pil'd hyperboles,] A metaphor from the pile of velvet. So, in The Winter's Tale, Autolycus says: “I have worn three-pile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 870 2&lblank; spruce affection,] The modern editors read—affectation. There is no need of change. We already in this play have had affection for affectation; “&lblank; witty without affection.” The word was used by our author and his contemporaries, as a quadri-syllable; and the rhyme such as they thought sufficient. Malone. In the Merry Wives of Windsor the word affectation occurs, and was most certainly designed to occur again in the present instance. No ear can be satisfied with such rhymes as affection and ostentation. Steevens. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 871 3Sans sans, I pray you.] It is scarce worth remarking, that the conceit here is obscured by the punctuation. It should be written Sans sans, i. e. without sans; without French words: an affectation of which Biron had been guilty in the last line of his speech, though just before he had forsworn all affectation in phrases, terms, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 872 4Write, Lord have mercy on us,] This was the inscription put upon the door of the houses infected with the plague, to which Biron compares the love of himself and his companions; and pursuing the metaphor finds the tokens likewise on the ladies. The tokens of the plague are the first spots or discolorations, by which the infection is known to be received. Johnson. So, in Histriomastix, 1610: “It is as dangerous to read his name on a play-door, as a printed bill on a plague-door.” Again, in The Whore of Babylon, 1607: “Have tokens stamp'd on them to make them known, “More dreadful than the bills that preach the plague.” Again, in More Fools Yet, a collection of Epigrams, by R. S. 1610: “To declare the infection for his sin, “A crosse is set without, there's none within.” Again, ibid.: “But by the way he saw and much respected “A doore belonging to a house infected, “Whereon was plac'd (as 'tis the custom still) “The Lord have mercy on us: this sad bill “The sot perus'd &lblank;.” Steevens. So, in Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, 1632: “Lord have mercy on us may well stand over their doors, for debt is a most dangerous city pestilence.” Malone.

Note return to page 873 5&lblank; how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?] That is, how can those be liable to forfeiture that begin the process. The jest lies in the ambiguity of sue, which signifies to prosecute by law, or to offer a petition. Johnson.

Note return to page 874 6&lblank; well advis'd?] i. e. acting with sufficient deliberation. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My liege I am advis'd in what I say.” Steevens.

Note return to page 875 7&lblank; you force not to forswear.] You force not is the same with you make no difficulty. This is a very just observation. The crime which has been once committed, is committed again with less reluctance. Johnson. So, in Warner's Albion's England, b. x. ch. 59: “&lblank; he forced not to hide how he did err.” Steevens.

Note return to page 876 8Neither of either;] This seems to have been a common expression in our author's time. It occurs in The London Prodigal, 1605, and other comedies. Malone.

Note return to page 877 9&lblank; a consent,] i. e. a conspiracy. So, in K. Henry VI. Part I.: “&lblank; the stars “That have consented to king Henry's death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 878 1&lblank; zany,] A zany is a buffoon, a merry Andrew, a gross mimick. So, in Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1613: “&lblank; sung &lblank; “To every seuerall zanie's instrument.” Again, in Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “Laughs them to scorn, as man doth busy apes, “When they will zany men.” Steevens.

Note return to page 879 2&lblank; some trencher-knight,] See page 435: “And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, “Holding a trencher,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 880 3&lblank; some Dick,— That smiles his cheek in jeers;] Mr. Theobald says,—he “cannot for his heart, comprehend the meaning of this phrase.”— It was not his heart but his head that stood in the way. In years, signifies into wrinkles. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.” See the note on that line.—But the Oxford editor was in the same case, and so alters it to fleers. Warburton. Webster, in his Dutchess of Malfy, makes Castruchio declare of his lady: “She cannot endure merry company, for she says much laughing fills her too full of the wrinckle.” Farmer. Again, in Lingua, or the Combat of the Tongue, &c. 1607: “That light and quick, with wrinkled laughter painted.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; he doth smile his cheek into more lines than are in the new map,” &c. Steevens. The old copies read—in yeeres. Jeers, the present emendation, which I proposed some time ago, I have since observed, was made by Mr. Theobald. Dr. Warburton endeavours to support the old reading, by explaining years to mean wrinkles which belong alike to laughter and old age. But allowing the word to be used in that licentious sense, surely our author would have written, not in, but into, years—i. e. into wrinkles, as in a passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; he does smile his cheek into more lines than are in the new map,” &c. The change being only that of a single letter for another nearly resembling it, I have placed jeers (formerly spelt jeeres) in my text. The words—jeer, flout, and mock, were much more in use in our author's time than at present. In Othello, 1622, the former word is used exactly as here: “And mark the jeers, the gibes, and notable scorns, “That dwell in every region of his face.” Out-roaring Dick was a celebrated singer, who, with William Wimbars, is said by Henry Chettle, in his Kind Harts Dreame, to have got twenty shillings a day by singing at Braintree fair, in Essex. Perhaps this itinerant droll was here in our author's thoughts. This circumstance adds some support to the emendation now made. From the following passage in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600, it seems to have been a common term for a noisy swaggerer: “O he, sir, he's a desperate Dick indeed; “Bar him your house.” Again, in Kemp's Nine Daies Wonder, &c. 4to. 1600: “A boy arm'd with a poking stick “Will dare to challenge cutting Dick.” Again, in The Epistle Dedicatorie to Nashe's Have With You to Saffron Walden, 1596: “&lblank; nor Dick Swash, or Desperate Dick, that's such a terrible cutter at a chine of beef, and devoures more meat at ordinaries in discoursing of his fraies, and deep acting of his flashing and hewing, than would serve half a dozen brewers draymen.” Malone. As the aptitude of my quotation from Twelfth-Night is questioned, I shall defend it, and without much effort; for Mr. Malone himself must, on recollection, allow that in, throughout the plays of Shakspeare, is often used for into. Thus, in King Richard III.: “But first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave.” I really conceived this usage of the preposition in, to have been too frequent to need exemplification. Steevens.

Note return to page 881 *Folio and quarto, 'tis.

Note return to page 882 4&lblank; in will, and error. Much upon this it is:—And might not you,] I believe this passage should be read thus: “&lblank; in will and error. “Boyet. Much upon this it is. “Biron. And might not you,” &c. Johnson. “In will, and error.” i. e. first in will, and afterwards in error. Musgrave.

Note return to page 883 5&lblank; by the squire,] From esquierre, French, a rule, or square. The sense is nearly the same as that of the proverbial expression in our own language, he hath got the length of her foot; i. e. he hath humoured her so long that he can persuade her to what he pleases. Heath. Squire, in our author's time was the common term for a rule. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. The word occurs again in the Winter's Tale. Malone. So, in Philemon Holland's translation of the Seventh Book of Pliny's Natural History, ch. 56: “As for the rule and squire, &c. Theodorus Samius devised them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 884 6&lblank; Go, you are allow'd;] i. e. you may say what you will; you are a licensed fool, a common jester. So, in Twelfth-Night: “There is no slander in an allow'd fool.” Warburton.

Note return to page 885 7Hath this brave manage,] The old copy has manager. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 886 8You cannot beg us,] That is, we are not fools; our next relations cannot beg the wardship of our persons and fortunes. One of the legal tests of a natural is to try whether he can number. Johnson. It is the wardship of Lunaticks not Ideots that devolves upon the next relations. Shakspeare, perhaps, as well as Dr. Johnson, was not aware of the distinction. Douce. It was not the next relation only who begg'd the wardship of an ideot. “A rich fool was begg'd by a lord of the king; and the lord coming to another nobleman's house, the fool saw the picture of a fool in the hangings, which he cut out; and being chidden for it, answered, you have more cause to love me for it; for if my lord had seen the picture of the fool in the hangings, he would certainly have begg'd them of the king, as he did my lands.” Cabinet of Mirth, 1674. Ritson.

Note return to page 887 9&lblank; one man,—e'en one poor man;] The old copies read— in one poor man. For the emendation I am answerable. The same mistake has happened in several places in our author's plays. See my note on All's Well that Ends Well, Act I. Sc. III.: “You are shallow, madam,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 888 1&lblank; I know not the degree of the worthy; &c.] This is a stroke of satire which, to this hour, has lost nothing of its force. Few performers are solicitous about the history of the character they are to represent. Steevens.

Note return to page 889 *Quarto, best.

Note return to page 890 2That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents, Their form, &c.] The old copies read—of that which it presents. Steevens. The third line may be read better thus: &lblank; “the contents “Die in the zeal of him which them presents.” This sentiment of the Princess is very natural, but less generous than that of the Amazonian Queen, who says, on a like occasion, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, “Nor duty in his service perishing.” Johnson. This passage, as it stands, is unintelligible.—Johnson's amendment makes it grammatical, but does not make it sense. What does he mean by the contents which die in the zeal of him who presents them? The word content, when signifying an affection of the mind, has no plural. Perhaps we should read thus: “Where zeal strives to content, and the content “Lies in the zeal of those which it present &lblank;” A similar sentiment, and on a similar occasion, occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, when Philostrate says of the play they were about to exhibit: “&lblank; It is nothing, “Unless you can find sport in their intents “Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, “To do you service.” M. Mason. The quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, read—of that which it presents. The context, I think, clearly shows that them (which, as the passage is unintelligible in its original form, I have ventured to substitute,) was the poet's word. Which for who is common in our author. So, (to give one instance out of many,) in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; a civil doctor, “Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me:” and ym and yt were easily confounded: nor is the false concord introduced by this reading [of them who presents it,] any objection to it; for every page of these plays furnishes us with examples of the same kind. So dies in the present line, for thus the old copy reads; though here, and in almost every other passage, where a similar corruption occurs, I have followed the example of my predecessors, and corrected the error. Where rhymes or metre, however, are concerned, it is impossible. Thus we must still read in Cymbeline, lies, as in the line before us, presents: “And Phœbus 'gins to rise. “His steeds to water at those springs “On chalic'd flowers that lies.” Again, in the play before us: “That in this spleen ridiculous appears, “To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect.” Dr. Johnson would read: “Die in the zeal of him which them presents.” But him was not, I believe, abbreviated in old MSS. and therefore not likely to have been confounded with that. The word it, I believe, refers to sport. That sport, says the Princess,—pleases best, where the actors are least skilful; where zeal strives to please, and the contents, or, (as these exhibitions are immediately afterwards called) great things, great attempts perish in the very act of being produced, from the ardent zeal of those who present the sportive entertainment. To “present a play” is still the phrase of the theatre. It, however, may refer to contents, and that word may mean the most material part of the exhibition. Malone.

Note return to page 891 3&lblank; labouring perish in their birth.] Labouring here means, in the act of parturition. So, Roscommon: “The mountains labour'd, and a mouse was born.” Malone.

Note return to page 892 4Enter Armado.] The old copies read—Enter Braggart. Steevens.

Note return to page 893 5&lblank; I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!] This singular word is again used by our author in his 21st Sonnet: “Making a couplement of proud compare—” Malone.

Note return to page 894 6And if these four worthies, &c.] These two lines might have been designed as a ridicule on the conclusion of Selimus, a tragedy, 1594: “If this first part, gentles, do like you well, “The second part shall greater murders tell.” Steevens. I rather think Shakspeare alludes to the shifts to which the actors were reduced in the old theatres, one person often performing two or three parts. Malone.

Note return to page 895 7Abate a throw at novum;] Novum (or novem) appears from the following passage in Green's Art of Legerdemain, 1612, to have been some game at dice: “The principal use of them (the dice) is at novum,” &c. Again, in the Bell-man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640: “The principal use of langrets, is at novum; for so long as a payre of bard cater treas be walking, so long can you cast neither 5 nor 9—for without cater treay, 5 or 9, you can never come.” Again, in A Woman Never Vex'd: “What ware deal you in? cards, dice, bowls, or pigeon-holes; sort them yourselves, either passage, novum, or mum-chance.” Steevens. Abate throw—is the reading of the original and authentick copies; the quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623. A bare throw, &c. was an arbitrary alteration made by the editor of the second folio. I have added only the article, which seems to have been inadvertently omitted. I suppose the meaning is,—Except or put the chance of the dice out of the question, and the world cannot produce five such as these. Abate, from the Fr. abatre, is used again by our author, in the same sense, in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; those 'bated, that inherit but the fall “Of the last monarchy.” “A bare throw at novum” is to me unintelligible. Malone.

Note return to page 896 8Cannot prick out, &c.] Dr. Grey proposes to read—pick out. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “Could the world pick thee out three such enemies again?” The old reading, however, may be right. To prick out, is a phrase still in use among gardeners. To prick may likewise have reference to vein. Steevens. Pick is the reading of the quarto, 1598: Cannot prick out, that of the folio, 1623. Our author uses the same phrase in his 20th Sonnet, in the same sense:—cannot point out by a puncture or mark. Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Will you be prick'd in number of our friends?” Malone. To prick out, means to choose out, or to mark as chosen. The word, in this sense, frequently occurs in The Second Part of King Henry IV. where Falstaff receives his recruits from Justice Shallow: “Here's Wart—Shall I prick him, Sir John? “A woman's tailor, Sir—shall I prick him? “Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 897 9Pageant of the Nine Worthies.] In MS. Harl. 2057, p. 31, is “The order of a showe intended to be made Aug. 1, 1621: “First, 2 woodmen, &c. “St. George fighting with the dragon. “The 9 worthies in complete armor with crownes of gould on their heads, every one having his esquires to beare before him his shield and penon of armes, dressed according as these lords were accustomed to be: 3 Assaralits, 3 Infidels, 3 Christians. “After them, a Fame, to declare the rare virtues and noble deedes of the 9 worthye women.” Such a pageant as this, we may suppose it was the design of Shakspeare to ridicule. Steevens. “This sort of procession was the usual recreation of our ancestors at Christmas and other festive seasons. Such things, being chiefly plotted and composed by ignorant people, were seldom committed to writing, at least with the view of preservation, and are of course rarely discovered in the researches of even the most industrious antiquaries. And it is certain that nothing of the kind (except the speeches in this scene, which were intended to burlesque them) ever appeared in print.” This observation belongs to Mr. Ritson, who has printed a genuine specimen of the poetry and manner of this rude and ancient drama, from an orignal manuscript of Edward the Fourth's time. (Tanner's MSS. 407.) Reed.

Note return to page 898 1With libbard's head on knee.] This alludes to the old heroic habits, which on the knees and shoulders had usually by way of ornament, the resemblance of a leopard's or lion's head. Warburton. In the church of Westley Waterless, Cambridgeshire, the brass figure of Sir John de Creke, has libbards faces at the joints of his shoulders and elbows. The libbard, as some of the old English glossaries inform us, is the male of the panther. This ornament is mentioned in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; posset cuppes carved with libbard's faces, and lyon's heads with spouts in their mouths, to let out the posset-ale most artificially.” Again, in the metrical Chronicle of Robert de Brunne: “Upon his shoulders a shelde of stele, “With the 4 libbards painted wele.” Steevens. See Masquine in Cotgrave's Dictionary: “The representation of a lyon's head, &c. upon the elbow, or knee of some old fashioned garments.” Tollet.

Note return to page 899 2&lblank; it stands too right.] It should be remembered, to relish this joke, that the head of Alexander was obliquely placed on his shoulders. Steevens.

Note return to page 900 3&lblank; lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool,] This alludes to the arms given in the old history of The Nine Worthies, to “Alexander, the which did beare geules, a lion or seiante in a chayer, holding a battle-ax argent.” Leigh's Accidence of Armory, 1597, p. 23. Tollet.

Note return to page 901 4&lblank; A-jax:] There is a conceit of Ajax and a jakes. Johnson. This conceit, paltry as it was, was used by Ben Jonson, and Camden the antiquary. Ben, among his Epigrams, has these two lines: “And I could wish, for their eternis'd sakes, “My muse had plough'd with his that sung A-jax.” So, Camden, in his Remains, having mentioned the French word pet, says, “Enquire, if you understand it not, of Cloacina's chaplains, or such as are well read in A-jax.” Again, in The Mastive, &c. a collection of epigrams and satires, no date; “To thee, brave John, my book I dedicate, “That wilt from A-jax with thy force defend it.” See also Sir John Harrington's New Discourse of a stale Subject, called, the Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596; his Anatomie of the Metamorphosed Ajax, no date; and Ulysses upon Ajax, 1596. All these performances are founded on the same conceit of Ajax and Ajakes. To the first of them a licence was refused, and the author was forbid the court for writing it. His own copy of it, with MS. notes and illustrations, and a MS. dedication to Thomas Markham, Esq. is now before me. Steevens. See also Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. ix. p. 133, edition 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 902 *Quarto, fayth.

Note return to page 903 5&lblank; a little o'er-parted:—] That is, the part or character allotted to him in this piece is too considerable. Malone.

Note return to page 904 6A cittern head.] So, in Fancies Chaste and Noble, 1638: “&lblank; A cittern-headed gew-gaw.” Again, in Decker's Match me in London, 1631: “Fiddling on a cittern with a man's broken head at it.” Again, in Ford's Lover's Melancholy, 1629: “I hope the chronicles will rear me one day for a head-piece—” “Of woodcock without brains in it; barbers shall wear thee on their citterns,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 905 7&lblank; on a flask.] i. e. a soldier's powder-horn. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, “Is set on fire.” Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “Keep a light match in cock; wear flask and touch-box.” Steevens.

Note return to page 906 8St. George's half-cheek in a brooch.] A brooch is an ornamental buckle, for fastening hat-bands, girdles, mantles, &c. See a figure and description of a fine one, in Pennant's Tour in Scotland, vol. iii. p. 14. Harris.

Note return to page 907 9Hector was but a Trojan &lblank;] A Trojan, I believe, was, in the time of Shakspeare, a cant term for a thief. So, in King Henry IV. Part. I.: “Tut there are other Trojans that thou dream'st not of,” &c. Again, in this scene: “unless you play the honest Trojan,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 908 1&lblank; of lances &lblank;] i. e. of lance-men. So, in King Lear: “And turn our imprest lances in our eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 909 2Stuck with cloves.] An orange stuck with cloves appears to have been a common new-year's gift. So, Ben Jonson, in his Christmas Masque: “&lblank; he has an orange and rosemary, but not a clove to stick in it.” A gilt nutmeg is mentioned in the same piece, and on the same occasion. The use, however, of an orange, &c. may be ascertained from The Second Booke of Notable Things, by Thomas Lupton, 4to. bl. l.: “Wyne wyll be pleasant in taste and savour, if an orenge or a Lymon (stickt round about with Cloaves) be hanged within the vessell that it touche not the wyne. And so the wyne wyll be preserved from foystines and evyll savor.” Steevens. The quarto, 1598, reads—A gift nutmeg; and if a gilt nutmeg had not been mentioned by Ben Jonson, I should have thought it right. So we say, a gift-horse, &c. We learn that a nutmeg was a common gift among the lower orders from Whimzies, or A New Cast of Characters, 1631. “If hee [an ostler] may make so much bold with you, hee will send his commends sweetned with a nutmeg, by you to the ostler of your next Inne. And this begits reciprocall curtesies betwixt them.” Malone.

Note return to page 910 *So quarto; folio omits Peace.

Note return to page 911 3&lblank; he would fight, yea,] Thus all the old copies. Theobald very plausibly reads—he would fight ye; a common vulgarism. Steevens. I should read: “&lblank; that certain he would fight ye,” which I think improves both the sense and the rhyme.—He would run you five miles in an hour—he would ride you from morning till night, is a mode of expression still in use. M. Mason.

Note return to page 912 *First folio omits, when he breathed he was a man.

Note return to page 913 4The party is gone,] These words in the old copies are given as the end of Armado's speech.

Note return to page 914 4&lblank; more Ates;] That is, more instigation. Ate was the mischievous goddess that incited bloodshed. Johnson. So, in King John: “An Até, stirring him to war and strife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 915 5&lblank; like a northern man;] Vir Borealis, a clown. See Glossary to Urry's Chaucer. Farmer. Dr. Farmer quotes from memory. This derivation is not in Urry's Glossary, but it is found in An Optick Glasse of Humours, by T. W. 1663. Boswell.

Note return to page 916 6&lblank; my arms &lblank;] The weapons and armour which he wore in the character of Pompey. Johnson.

Note return to page 917 7&lblank; it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: &c.] This may possibly allude to a story well known in our author's time, to this effect. A Spaniard at Rome falling in a duel, as he lay expiring, an intimate friend, by chance, came by, and offered him his best services. The dying man told him he had but one request to make him, but conjured him, by the memory of their past friendship, punctually to comply with it; which was not to suffer him to be stript, but to bury him as he lay, in the habit he then had on. When this was promised, the Spaniard closed his eyes, and expired with great composure and resignation. But his friend's curiosity prevailing over his good faith, he had him stript, and found, to his great surprise, that he was without a shirt. Warburton. “True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: &c.” This is a plain reference to the following story in Stowe's Annals, p. 98, (in the time of Edward the Confessor:) “Next after this (king Edward's first cure of the king's evil,) mine authors affirm, that a certain man, named Vifunius Spileorne, the son of Ulmore of Nutgarshall, who, when he hewed timber in the wood of Brutheullena, laying him down to sleep after his sore labour, the blood and humours of his head so congealed about his eyes, that he was thereof blind, for the space of nineteen years; but then (as he had been moved in his sleep) he went woolward and bare-footed to many churches, in every of them to pray to God for help in his blindness.” Dr. Grey. The same custom is alluded to in an old collection of Satyres, Epigrams, &c. “And when his shirt's a washing, then he must “Go woolward for the time; he scorns it, he, “That worth two shirts his laundress should him see.” Again, in A Merry Geste of Robyn Hood, bl. l. no date: “Barefoot, woolward have I hight, “Thether for to go.” Again, in Powell's History of Wales, 1584: “The Angles and Saxons slew 1000 priests and monks of Bangor, with a great number of lay brethren, &c. who were come bare-footed and woolward to crave mercy,” &c. Steevens. In Lodge's Incarnate Devils, 1596, we have the character of a swashbuckler: “His common course is to go always untrust; except when his shirt is a washing, and then he goes woolward.” Farmer. “Woolward.”—“I have no shirt: I go woolward for penance.” The learned Dr. Grey, whose accurate knowledge of our old historians has often thrown much light on Shakespeare, supposes that this passage is a plain reference to a story in Stowe's Annals, p. 98. But where is the connection or resemblance between this monkish tale and the passage before us? There is nothing in the story, as here related by Stowe, that would even put us in mind of this dialogue between Boyet and Armado, except the singular expression go woolward; which, at the same time is not explained by the annotator, nor illustrated by his quotation. To go woolward, I believe, was a phrase appropriated to pilgrims and penitentiaries. In this sense it seems to be used in Pierce Plowman's Visions, Pass. xviii. fol. 96, b. edit. 1550: “Wolward and wetshod went I forth after “As a rechless reuke, that of no wo retcheth, “And yedeforth like a lorell,” &c. Skinner derives woolward from the Saxon wol, plague, secondarily any great distress, and weard, toward. Thus, says he, it signifies, “in magno discrimine & expectatione magni mali constitutus.” I rather think it should be written woolward, and that it means clothed in wool, and not in linen. This appears, not only from Shakspeare's context, but more particularly from an historian who relates the legend before cited, and whose words Stowe has evidently translated. This is Ailred, abbot of Rievaulx, who says, that our blind man was admonished, “Ecclesias numero octoginta nudis pedibus et absque linteis circumire.” Dec. Scriptor. 392, 50. The same story is told by William of Malmsbury, Gest. Reg. Angl. lib. ii. p. 91, edit. 1601. And in Caxton's Legenda Aurea, fol. 307, edit. 1493. By the way it appears, that Stowe's Vifunius Spileorne, son of Ulmore of Nutgarshall, ought to be Wulwin, surnamed de Spillicote, son of Wulmar de Lutegarshelle, now Ludgershall: and the wood of Brutheullena is the forest of Bruelle, now called Brill, in Buckinghamshire. T. Warton. To this speech in the old copy, Boy is prefixed, by which designation most of Moth's speeches are marked. The name of Boyet is generally printed at length. It seems better suited to Armado's page than to Boyet, to whom it has been given in the modern editions. Malone.

Note return to page 918 8I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion,] This has no meaning. We should read,—the day of right; i. e. I have seen that a day will come when I shall have justice done me, and therefore I prudently reserve myself for that time. Warburton. I believe it rather means,—I have hitherto looked on the indignities I have received, with the eyes of discretion, (i. e. not been too forward to resent them,) and shall insist on such satisfaction as will not disgrace my character, which is that of a soldier. To have decided the quarrel in the manner proposed by his antagonist, would have been at once a derogation from the honour of a soldier, and the pride of a Spaniard. “One may see day at a little hole,” is a proverb in Ray's Collection: “Day-light will peep through a little hole,” in Kelly's. Again, in Churchyard's Charge, 1580, p. 9: “At little hoales the daie is seen.” Steevens. The passage is faulty; but Warburton has mistaken the meaning of it, and the place in which the error lies. Armado means to say, in his affected style, that “he had discovered that he was wronged, and was determined to right himself as a soldier;” and this meaning will be clearly expressed if we read it thus, with a very slight alteration:—“I have seen the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 919 9&lblank; liberal &lblank;] Free to excess. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; there they show “Something too liberal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 920 1In the converse of breath,] Perhaps converse may, in this line, mean interchange. Johnson. Converse of breath means no more than conversation “made up of breath,” as our author expresses himself in Othello. Thus also, in the Merchant of Venice: “Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 921 2A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:] Thus all the editions; but, surely, without either sense or truth. None are more humble in speech, than they who labour under any oppression. The Princess is desiring her grief may apologize for her not expressing her obligations at large; and my correction is conformable to that sentiment. Besides, there is an antithesis between heavy and nimble; but between heavy and humble, there is none. Theobald. The following passage in King John, inclines me to dispute the propriety of Mr. Theobald's emendation: “&lblank; grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.” By humble, the Princess seems to mean obsequiously thankful. Steevens. So, in the Merchant of Venice; “Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key “With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,” &c. A heavy heart, says the Princess, does not admit of that verbal obeisance which is paid by the humble to those whom they address. Farewell therefore at once. Malone.

Note return to page 922 *First folio and quarto, formes.

Note return to page 923 3And often, at this very loose, decides, &c.] At this very loose, may mean, at the moment of his parting, i. e. of his getting loose, or away from us. So, in some ancient poem, of which I forgot to preserve either the date or title: “Envy discharging all her pois'nous darts,   “The valiant mind is temper'd with that fire, “At her fierce loose that weakly never parts,   “But in despight doth force her to retire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 924 4&lblank; which fain it would convince;] We must read: “&lblank; which fain would it convince;” that is, the entreaties of love which would fain over-power grief. So Lady Macbeth declares: That she will convince the chamberlains with wine. Johnson. If Johnson was right with respect to the meaning of this passage, I should think that the words, as they now stand, would express it without the transposition which he proposes to make. Place a comma after the word it, and fain it would convince, will signify the same as fain would convince it.—In reading, it is certain that a proper emphasis will supply the place of that transposition. But I believe that the words which fain it would convince, mean only what it would wish to succeed in obtaining. To convince is to overcome; and to prevail in a suit which was strongly denied, is a kind of conquest. M. Mason.

Note return to page 925 5I understand you not; my griefs are double.] I suppose, she means, 1. on account of the death of her father; 2. on account of not understanding the king's meaning.—A modern editor, [Mr. Capell,] instead of double, reads deaf; but the former is not at all likely to have been mistaken, either by the eye or the ear, for the latter. Malone.

Note return to page 926 6Honest plain words, &c.] As it seems not very proper for Biron to court the Princess for the King in the king's presence at this critical moment, I believe the speech is given to a wrong person. I read thus: “Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double: Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief. “King. And by these badges,” &c. Johnson. Too many authors sacrifice propriety to the consequence of their principal character, into whose mouth they are willing to put more than justly belongs to him, or at least the best things they have to say. The original actor of Biron, however, like Bottom in The Midsummer-Night's Dream, might have wrested this speech from an inferior performer. I have been assured, that Mercutio's rhapsody concerning the tricks of Queen Mab, was put into the mouth of Romeo by the late Mr. Sheridan, as often as he himself performed that character in Ireland. Steevens. I think Johnson judges ill in wishing to give this speech to the king; it is an apology not for him alone, but for all the competitors in oaths, and Biron is generally their spokesman. M. Mason. In a former part of this scene Biron speaks for the king and the other lords, and being at length exhausted, tells them, they must woo for themselves. I believe, therefore, the old copies are right in this respect; but think with Dr. Johnson that the line “Honest,” &c. belongs to the Princess. Malone.

Note return to page 927 7Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,] The old copies read—Full of straying shapes. Both the sense and the metre appear to me to require the emendation which I suggested some time ago: “strange shapes” might have been easily confounded by the ear with the words that have been substituted in their room. In Coriolanus we meet with a corruption of the same kind, which could only have arisen in this way: “&lblank; Better to starve “Than crave the higher [hire] which first we do deserve.” The following passages of our author will, I apprehend, fully support the correction that has been made: “In him a plenitude of subtle matter, “Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives.” Lover's Complaint. Again, in the Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; the impression of strange kinds “Is form'd in them, by force, by fraud, or skill.” In King Henry V. 4to. 1600, we have—Forraging blood of French nobility, instead of Forrage in blood, &c. Mr. Capell, I find, has made the same emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 928 8Suggested us &lblank;] That is, tempted us. Johnson. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested.” Steevens.

Note return to page 929 9As bombast, and as lining to the time:] This line is obscure. Bombast was a kind of loose texture not unlike what is now called wadding, used to give the dresses of that time bulk and protuberance, without much increase of weight; whence the same name is given to a tumour of words unsupported by solid sentiment. The Princess, therefore, says, that they considered this courtship as but bombast, as something to fill out life, which not being closely united with it, might be thrown away at pleasure. Johnson. Prince Henry calls Falstaff, “&lblank; my sweet creature of bombast.” Steevens.   “We have receiv'd your letters full of love; “Your favours the embassadors of love; “And in our maiden council rated them “At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, “As bombast, and as lining to the time: “But more devout than these in our respects, “Have we not been, and therefore met your loves “In their own fashion, like a merriment.”] The sixth verse being evidently corrupted, Dr. Warburton purposes to read: “But more devout than this (save our respects) “Have we not been;—” Dr. Johnson prefers the conjecture of Sir T. Hanmer: “But more devout than this, in our respects.” I would read, with less violence, I think, to the text, though with the alteration of two words: “But more devout than these are your respects “Have we not seen.” Tyrwhitt. The difficulty, I believe, arises only from Shakspeare's remarkable position of his words, which may be thus construed.—But we have not been more devout, or made a more serious matter of your letters and favours than these our respects, or considerations and reckonings of them, are, and as we have just before said,— we rated them in our maiden council at courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy. Tollet. The quarto, 1598, reads: “But more devout than this our respects.” There can be no doubt, therefore, that Sir T. Hanmer's conjecture is right. The word in, which the compositor inadvertently omitted, completes both the sense and metre. Malone.

Note return to page 930 1We did not quote them so.] The old copies read—coat. We should read—quote, esteem, reckon; though our old writers spelling by the ear, probably wrote—cote, as it was pronounced. Johnson. Cote is only the old spelling of quote. So, again, in our poet's Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “Yea, the illiterate— “Will cote my loathed trespass in my looks.” Malone. “We did not quote 'em so,” is,—we did not regard them as such. So, in Hamlet: “I'm sorry that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” See Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 931 2To make a world-without-end bargain in:] This singular phrase, which Shakspeare borrowed probably from our liturgy, occurs again in his 57th Sonnet: “Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour.” Malone.

Note return to page 932 3&lblank; and thin weeds,] i. e. clothing. Malone.

Note return to page 933 4&lblank; and last love;] Last is a verb. If it last love, means, if it continue to be love. Steevens.

Note return to page 934 5Come challenge, challenge me &lblank;] The old copies read (probably by the compositor's eye glancing on a wrong part of the line,) “Come challenge me, challenge me,” &c. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 935 6To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,] Dr. Warburton would read—fetter, but flatter or sooth is, in my opinion, more apposite to the king's purpose than fetter. Perhaps we may read: “To flatter on these hours of time with rest;” That is, I would not deny to live in the hermitage, to make the year of delay pass in quiet. Johnson.

Note return to page 936 7&lblank; are rank;] The folio and quarto, 1598, read—are rack'd. Steevens. “&lblank; your sins are rack'd;” i. e. extended “to the top of their bent.” So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Why, then we rack the value.” Mr. Rowe and the subsequent editors read—are rank. Malone. Rowe's emendation is every way justifiable. Things rank (not those which are racked) need purging. Besides, Shakspeare has used the same epithet on the same occasion in Hamlet: “O! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 937 8Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury: Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the the weary beds of people sick.] These six verses both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expunged; and therefore I have put them between crotchets: not that they were an interpolation, but as the author's draught, which he afterwards rejected, and executed the same thought a little lower with much more spirit and elegance. Shakspeare is not to answer for the present absurd repetition, but his actor-editors; who, thinking Rosaline's speech too long in the second plan, had abridg'd it to the lines above quoted; but, in publishing the play, stupidly printed both the original speech of Shakspeare, and their own abridgement of it. Theobald.

Note return to page 938 9&lblank; fierce endeavour &lblank;] Fierce is vehement, rapid. So, in King John: “&lblank; fierce extremes of sickness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 939 1&lblank; dear groans,] Dear should here, as in many other places, be dere, sad, odious. Johnson. I believe dear in this place, as in many others, means only immediate, consequential. So, already in this scene: “&lblank; full of dear guiltiness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 940 2The characters of Biron and Rosaline suffer much by comparison with those of Benedick and Beatrice. We know that Love's Labour's Lost was the elder performance; and as our author grew more experienced in dramatic writing, he might have seen how much he could improve on his own originals. To this circumstance, perhaps, we are indebted for the more perfect comedy of Much Ado about Nothing. Steevens.

Note return to page 941 3When daisies pied, &c.] The first lines of this song that were transposed, have been replaced by Mr. Theobald. Johnson.

Note return to page 942 4&lblank; cuckoo-buds &lblank;] Gerard, in his Herbal, 1597, says, that the flos cuculi cardamine, &c. are called “in English cuckoo-flowers, in Norfolk Canterbury-Bells, and at Namptwich in Cheshire ladie-smocks.” Shakspeare, however, might not have been sufficiently skilled in botany to be aware of this particular. Mr. Tollet has observed, that Lyte in his Herbal, 1578 and 1579, remarks, that cowslips are in French, of some called coquu, prime vere, and brayes de coquu. This, he thinks, will sufficiently account for our author's cuckoo-buds, by which he supposes cowslip-buds to be meant; and further directs the reader to Cotgrave's Dictionary, under the articles—Cocu, and herbe a coqu. Steevens. Cuckoo-buds must be wrong. I believe cowslip-buds, the true reading. Farmer. Mr. Whalley, the learned editor of Ben Jonson's works, many years ago proposed to read crocus buds. The cuckoo-flower, he observed, could not be called yellow, it rather approaching to the colour of white, by which epithet, Cowley, who was himself no mean botanist, has distinguished it: “Albaque cardamine,” &c. Malone. Crocus buds is a phrase unknown to naturalists and gardeners. Steevens.

Note return to page 943 5When icicles hang by the wall,] i. e. from the eaves of the thatch or other roofing, from which in the morning icicles are found depending in great abundance, after a night of frost. So, in King Henry IV.: “Let us not hang like roping icicles, “Upon our houses' thatch.” Our author (whose images are all taken from nature) has alluded in The Tempest, to the drops of water that after rain flow from such coverings, in their natural unfrozen state: “His tears run down his beard like winter's drops “From eaves of reeds.” Malone.

Note return to page 944 6And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,] So, in K. Hen. VI. Part III.: “What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, “Can neither call it perfect day or night. Malone.

Note return to page 945 7&lblank; nightly sings the staring owl, To-who; tu-whit, to-who,] So, in Lyly's Mother Bombie: “To-whit, to-whoo, the owle does cry.” Holt White. “Tu-whit, to-who, &lblank;” These terms were employed also to denote the musick of birds in general. Thus, in the song of Spring, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds doe sing, “Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo.” But, in Sidney's verses at the end of the Arcadia, they are confined to the owl: “Their angel-voice surpriz'd me now; “But Mopfa her too-whit, to-hoo, “Descending through her hoboy nose, “Did that distemper soon compose: “And, therefore, O thou precious owl,” &c. Todd.

Note return to page 946 8&lblank; doth keel the pot.] This word is yet used in Ireland, and signifies to scum the pot. Goldsmith. So, in Marston's What You Will, 1607:—“Faith, Doricus, thy brain boils, keel it, keel it, or all the fat's in the fire.” Steevens. To keel the pot is certainly to cool it, but in a particular manner: it is to stir the pottage with the ladle to prevent the boiling over. Farmer. “&lblank; keel the pot.” i. e. cool the pot. “The thing is, they mix their thicking of oatmeal and water, which they call blending the litting [or lithing,] and put it in the pot, when they set on, because when the meat, pudding and turnips are all in, they cannot so well mix it, but 'tis apt to go into lumps; yet this method of theirs renders the pot liable to boil over at the first rising, and every subsequent increase of the fire; to prevent which it becomes necessary for one to attend to cool it occasionally, by lading it up frequently with a ladle, which they call keeling the pot, and is indeed a greasy office.” Gent. Mag. 1760. This account seems to be accurate. Ritson. To keel signifies to cool in general, without any reference to the kitchen. So, in the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, MS. p. 80: “Tha' alle men shall take hede “What deth traytours shall fele, “That assente to such falshede, “Howe the wynde theyr bodyes shal kele.” Again, in Gower De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 121, b: “The cote he found, and eke he feleth “The mace, and then his herte keleth “That there durst he not abide.” Again, fol. 131, b: “With water on his finger ende “Thyne hote tonge to kele.” Mr. Lambe observes, in his notes on the ancient metrical History of The Battle of Floddon, that it is a common thing in the North “for a maid servant to take out of a boiling pot a wheen, i. e. a small quantity, viz. a porringer or two of broth, and then to fill up the pot with cold water. The broth thus taken out, is called the keeling wheen. In this manner greasy Joan keeled the pot.” “Gie me beer, and gie me grots, “And lumps of beef to swum abeen; “And ilka time that I stir the pot, “He's hae frae me the keeling wheen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 947 9&lblank; the parson's saw,] Saw seems anciently to have meant, not as at present, a proverb, a sentence, but the whole tenor of any instructive discourse. So, in the fourth chapter of the first Book of The Tragedies of John Bochas, translated by Lidgate: “These old poetes in their sawes swete “Full covertly in their verses do fayne.” Steevens. Yet in As You Like It, our author uses this word in the sense of a sentence or maxim: “Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might,” &c. It is, I believe, so used here. Malone.

Note return to page 948 1When roasted crabs, &c.] i. e. the wild apples so called. Thus, in The Midsummer-Night's Dream: “And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, “In very likeness of a roasted crab.” Again, in Like Will to Like, quoth the Devil to the Collier, 1587: “Now a crab in the fire were worth a good groat: “That I might quaffe with my captain Tom Toss-pot.” Again, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “Sitting in a corner, turning crabs, “Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale.” “When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,—” Hence, perhaps, the following passage in Milton's Epitaphium Damonis: “&lblank; grato cum sibilat igni “Molle pyrum,—” Steevens. The bowl must be supposed to be filled with ale: a toast and some spice and sugar being added, what is called lamb's wool is produced. So, in King Henry V. 1598 (not our author's play): “Yet we will have in store a crab in the fire, “With nut-brown ale, that is full stale,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 949 2In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as unworthy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are many passages mean, childish, and vulgar; and some which ought not to have been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a maiden Queen. But there are scattered through the whole many sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare. Johnson.

Note return to page 950 10204002This child of fancy, that Armado hight, &c.] This, as I have shown in the note in its place, relates to the stories in the books of chivalry. A few words, therefore, concerning their origin and nature, may not be unacceptable to the reader. As I don't know of any writer, who has given any tolerable account of this matter: and especially as Monsieur Huet, the bishop of Avranches, who wrote a formal treatise of The Origin of Romances, has said little or nothing of these in that superficial work. For having brought down the account of romances to the later Greeks, and entered upon those composed by the barbarous western writers, which have now the name of romances almost appropriated to them, he puts the change upon his reader, and instead of giving us an account of these books of chivalry, one of the most curious and interesting parts of the subject he promised to treat of, he contents himself with a long account of the poems of the provincial writers, called likewise romances; and so, under the equivoque of a common term, drops his proper subject, and entertains us with another, that had no relation to it more than in the name. The Spaniards were of all others the fondest of these fables, as suiting best their extravagant turn to gallantry and bravery; which in time grew so excessive, as to need all the efficacy of Cervantes's incomparable satire to bring them back to their senses. The French suffered an easier cure from their doctor Rabelais, who enough discredited the books of chivalry, by only using the extravagant stories of its giants, &c. as a cover for another kind of satire against the refined politicks of his countrymen: of which they were as much possessed as the Spaniards of their romantick bravery: a bravery our Shakspeare makes their characteristic in this description of a Spanish gentleman: “A man of complements, whom right and wrong “Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: “This child of fancy, that Armado hight, “For interim to our studies, shall relate, “In high-born words, the worth of many a knight, “From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate* [Subnote: *From tawny Spain, &c.] This passage may, as Dr. Warburton imagines, be in allusion to the Spanish Romances, of which several were extant in English, and very popular at the time this play was written. Such, for instance, as Amadis de Gaule, Don Bellianis, Palmerin d'Oliva, Palmerin of England, the Mirrour of Knighthood, &c. But he is egregiously mistaken in asserting that “the heroes and the scene were generally of that country,” which, in fact, (except in an instance or two, nothing at all to the present purpose,) is never the case. If the words lost in the world's debate will bear the editor's construction, there are certainly many books of chivalry on the subject. I cannot, however, think that Shakspeare was particularly conversant in works of this description: but, indeed, the alternately rhyming parts, at least, of the present play, are apparently by an inferior hand; the remains, no doubt, of the old platform. Ritson.] .” The sense of which is to this effect: “This gentleman,” says the speaker, “shall relate to us the celebrated stories recorded in the romances, and in their very style.” Why he says from tawny Spain, is, because these romances, being of the Spanish original, the heroes and the scene were generally of that country. He says, lost in the world's debate, because the subjects of those romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. Indeed, the wars of the Christians against the Pagans were the general subject of the romances of chivalry. They all seem to have had their ground-work in two fabulous monkish historians: the one, who under the name of Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, wrote The History and Atchievements of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers; to whom, instead of his father, they assigned the task of driving the Saracens out of France and the south parts of Spain: the other, our Geoffry of Monmouth. Two of those peers, whom the old romances have rendered most famous, were Oliver and Rowland. Hence Shakspeare makes Alençon, in The First Part of King Henry VI. say: “Froyssard, a countryman of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, during the time Edward the Third did reign.” In the Spanish Romance of Bernardo del Carpio, and in that of Roncesvalles, the feats of Roland are recorded under the name of Roldan en encantador; and in that of Palmerin de Oliva* [Subnote: *Dr. Warburton is quite mistaken in deriving Oliver from (Palmerin de) Oliva, which is utterly incompatible with the genius of the Spanish language. The old romance, of which Oliver was the hero, is entitled in Spanish, “Historias de los nobles Cavalleros Oliveros de Castilla, y Artus de Algarbe, in fol. en Valladolid, 1501, in fol. en Sevilla, 1507;” and in French thus: “Histoire d'Olivier de Castille, & Artus d'Algarbe son loyal compagnon, & de Heleine, Fille au Roy d'Angleterre, &c. translatée du Latin par Phil. Kamus, in fol. Gothique.” It has also appeared in English. See Ames's Typograph. p. 94, 47. Percy.] , or simply Oliva, those of Oliver: for Oliva is the same in Spanish as Olivier is in French. The account of their exploits is in the highest degree monstrous and extravagant, as appears from the judgment passed upon them by the priest in Don Quixote, when he delivers the knight's library to the secular arm of the housekeeper: “Eccetuando à un Bernardo del Carpio que anda por ay, y à otro Ilamado Roncesvalles; que estos en llegando a mis manos, an de estar en las de la ama, y dellas en las del fuego sin remission alguna† [Subnote: †B. I. C. 6.] .” And of Oliver he says: “essa Oliva se haga luego raxas, y se queme, que aun no queden della las cenizas‡ [Subnote: ‡Ibid.] .” The reasonableness of this sentence may be partly seen from one story in the Bernardo del Carpio, which tells us, that the cleft called Roldan, to be seen in the summit of an high mountain in the kingdom of Valencia, near the town of Alicant, was made with a single back-stroke of that hero's broad-sword. Hence came the proverbial expression of our plain and sensible ancestors, who were much cooler readers of these extravagancies than the Spaniards, of giving one a Rowland for his Oliver, that is of matching one impossible lye with another: as, in French, faire le Roland means, to swagger. This driving the Saracens out of France and Spain, was, as we say, the subject of the elder romances. And the first that was printed in Spain was the famous Amadis de Gaula, of which the inquisitor priest says: “segun he oydo dezir, este libro fué el primero de Cavallerias qui se imprimiò en Espana, y todos los demás an tomado principio y origen deste‡ [Subnote: *B. I. c. 6.] ;” and for which he humorously condemns it to the fire, coma à Dogmatazador de una secta tan mala. When this subject was well exhausted, the affairs of Europe afforded them another of the same nature. For after that the western parts had pretty well cleared themselves of these inhospitable guests, by the excitements of the popes, they carried their arms against them into Greece and Asia, to support the Byzantine empire, and recover the holy sepulchre. This gave birth to a new tribe of romances, which we may call of the second race or class. And as Amadis de Gaula was at the head of the first, so, correspondently to the subject, Amadis de Græcia was at the head of the latter. Hence it is, we find, that Trebizonde is as celebrated in these romances as Roncesvalles is in the other. It may be worth observing, that the two famous Italian epic poets, Ariosto and Tasso, have borrowed, from each of these classes of old romances, the scenes and subjects of their several stories; Ariosto choosing the first, the Saracens in France and Spain; and Tasso, the latter, the Crusade against them in Asia: Ariosto's hero being Orlando, or the French Roland: for as the Spaniards, by one way of transposing the letters, had made it Roldan, so the Italians, by another make it Orland. The main subject of these fooleries, as we have said, had its original in Turpin's famous History of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers. Nor were the monstrous embellishments of enchantments, &c. the invention of the romancers, but formed upon eastern tales, brought thence by travellers from their crusades and pilgrimages; which indeed have a cast peculiar to the wild imaginations of the eastern people. We have a proof of this in the travels of Sir John Maunderville, whose excessive superstition and credulity, together with an impudent monkish addition to his genuine work, have made his veracity thought much worse of than it deserved. This voyager, speaking of the isle of Cos in the Archipelago, tells the following story of an enchanted dragon. “And also a zonge man, that wist not of the dragoun, went out of the schipp, and went through the ile, till that he cam to the castelle, and cam into the cave; and went so longe till that he fond a chambre, and there he saughe a damyselle, that kembed hire hede, and lokede in a myrour: and sche hadde moche tresoure abouten hire: and he trowed that sche hadde ben a comoun woman, that dwelled there to receive men to folye. and he abode till the damyselle saughe the schadowe of him in the myrour. And sche turned hire toward him, and asked him what he wolde. And he seyde, he wolde ben hire limman or paramour. And sche asked him, if that he were a knyghte. And he sayde, nay. And then sche sayde, that he might not ben hire limman. But sche bad him gon azen unto his felowes, and make him knyghte, and come azen upon the morwe, and sche scholde come out of her cave before him; and thanne come and kysse hire on the mowth and have no drede. For I schalle do the no maner harm, alle be it that thou see me in lykeness of a dragoun. For thoughe thou see me hideous and horrible to loken onne, I do the to wytene that it is made be enchauntement. For withouten doubte, I am none other than thou seest now, a woman; and herefore drede the nought. And zyf thou kysse me, thou schalt have all this tresoure, and be my lord, and lord also of all that isle. And he departed,” &c. p. 29, 30, ed. 1725. Here we see the very spirit of a romance adventure. This honest traveller believed it all, and so, it seems, did the people of the isle. “And some men seyne (says he) that in the isle of Lango is zit the doughtre of Ypocras in forme and lykenesse of a gret dragoun, that is an hundred fadme in lengthe, as men seyn: for I have not seen hire. And they of the isles callen hire, lady of the land.” We are not to think then, these kind of stories, believed by pilgrims and travellers, would have less credit either with the writers or readers of romances: which humour of the times, therefore, may well account for their birth and favourable reception in the world. The other monkish historian, who supplied the romancers with materials, was our Geoffry of Monmouth. For it is not to be supposed, that these children of fancy (as Shakspeare in the place quoted above, finely calls them, insinuating that fancy hath its infancy as well as manhood,) should stop* [Subnote: *“For it is not to be supposed, that these Children of Fancy, as Shakspeare calls them, insinuating thereby that fancy hath its infancy as well as manhood, should stop,” &c.] I cannot conceive how Shakspeare, by calling Armado the Child of Fancy, insinuates that fancy hath its infancy as well as manhood. The showing that a woman had a child, would be a strange way of proving her in her infancy.—By calling Armado the Child of Fancy, Shakspeare means only to describe him as fantastical. M. Mason.] in the midst of so extraordinary a career, or confine themselves within the lists of the terra firma. From him, therefore, the Spanish romances took the story of the British Arthur, and the knights of his round table, his wife Gueniver, and his conjuror Merlin. But still it was the same subject, (essential to books of chivalry,) the wars of Christians against Infidels. And, whether it was by blunder or design, they changed the Saxons into Saracens. I suspect by design; for chivalry without a Saracen was so very lame and imperfect a thing, that even the wooden image which turned round on an axis, and served the knights to try their swords, and break their lances upon, was called by the Italians and Spaniards, Saracino and Sarazino; so closely were these two ideas connected. In these old romances there was much religious superstition mixed with their other extravagancies; as appears even from their very names and titles. The first romance of Launcelot of the Lake and King Arthur and his Knights, is called The History of Saint Greaal. This saint Greaal was the famous relick of the holy blood pretended to be collected into a vessel by Joseph of Arimathea. So another is called Kyrie Eleison of Montauban. For in those days Deuteronomy and Paralipomenon were supposed to be the names of holy men. And as they made saints of the knights-errant, so they made knights errant of their tutelary saints; and each nation advanced its own into the order of chivalry. Thus every thing in those times being either a saint or a devil, they never wanted for the marvellous. In the old romance of Launcelot of the Lake, we have the doctrine and discipline of the church as formally delivered as in Bellarmine himself: “Là confession (says the preacher) ne vaut rien si le cœur n'est repentant; et si tu es moult & eloigné de l'amour de nostre Seigneur, tu ne peus estre recordé si non par trois choses: premierement par la confession de bouche; secondement par une contrition de cœur; tiercement par peine de cœur, & par oeuvre d'aumône & charité. Telle este la droite voye d'aimer Dieu. Or va & si te confesse en cette maniere & recois la discipline des mains de tes confesseurs, car c'est le signe de merite.—Or mande le roy ses evesques, dont grande partie avoit en l'ost, & vinrent tous en sa chapelle. Le roy vint devant eux tout nud en pleurant, & tenant son plein point de vint menuës verges, si les jetta devant eux, & leur dit en soupirant, qu'ils prissent de luy vengeance, car je suis le plus vil pecheur, &c.—Apres prinst discipline & d'eux & moult doucement la receut.” Hence we find the divinity lectures of Don Quixote, and the penance of his 'squire, are both of them in the ritual of chivalry. Lastly, we find the knight-errant, after much turmoil to himself, and disturbance to the world, frequently ended his course, like Charles V. of Spain, in a monastery; or turned hermit, and became a saint in good earnest. And this again will let us into the spirit of those dialogues between Sancho and his master, where it is gravely debated whether he should not turn saint or archbishop. There were several causes of this strange jumble of nonsense and religion. As first, the nature of the subject, which was a religious war or crusade; secondly, the quality of the first writers, who were religious men; and thirdly, the end of writing many of them, which was to carry on a religious purpose. We learn, that Clement V. interdicted justs and tournaments, because he understood they had much hindered the crusade decreed in the council of Vienna. “Torneamenta ipsa & hastiludia sive juxtas in regnis Franciæ, Angliæ, & Almanniæ, & aliis nonnullis provinciis, in quibus ea consuevere frequentiús exerceri, specialiter interdixit.” Extrav. de Torneamentis C. unic. temp. Ed. I. Religious men, I conceive, therefore, might think to forward the design of the crusades by turning the fondness for tilts and tournaments into that channel. Hence we see the books of knight-errantry so full of solemn justs and torneaments held at Trebizonde, Bizance, Tripoly, &c. Which wise project, I apprehend, it was Cervantes's intention to ridicule where he makes his knight purpose it as the best means of subduing the Turk, to assemble all the knights-errant together by proclamation* [Subnote: *See Part II. l. 5, c. 1.] . Warburton. It is generally agreed, I believe, that this long note of Dr. Warburton's is, at least, very much misplaced. There is not a single passage in the character of Armado, that has the least relation to any story in any romance of chivalry. With what propriety, therefore, a dissertation on the origin and nature of those romances is here introduced,I cannot see; and I should humbly advise the next editor of Shakspeare to omit it. That he may have the less scruple upon that head, I shall take this opportunity of throwing out a few remarks, which, I think, will be sufficient to show, that the learned writer's hypothesis was formed upon a very hasty and imperfect view of the subject. At setting out, in order to give a greater value to the information which is to follow, he tells us, that no other writer has given any tolerable account of this matter; and particularly,—that “Monsieur Huet, the Bishop of Avranches, who wrote a formal treatise of the Origin of Romances, has said little or nothing of these [books of chivalry] in that superficial work.”—The fact is true, that Monsieur Huet has said very little of romances of chivalry; but the imputation with which Dr. W. proceeds to load him, of—“putting the change upon his reader,” and “dropping his proper subject” for another, “that had no relation to it more than in the name,” is unfounded. It appears plainly from Huet's introductory address to De Segrais, that his object was to give some account of those romances which were then popular in France, such as the Astrée of D'Urfé, the Grand Cyrus of De Scuderi, &c. He defines the romances of which he means to treat, to be fictions des avantures amoureuses; and he excludes epic poems from the number, because— “Enfin les poëmes ont pour sujet une action militaire ou politique, et ne traitent d'amour que par occasion; les Romans au contraire ont l'amour pour sujet principal, et ne traitent la politique et la guerre que par incident. Je parle des Romans réguliers; car la plûpart des vieux Romans François, Italiens, et Espagnols sont bien moins amoureux que militaires.” After this declaration, surely no one has a right to complain of the author for not treating more at large of the old romances of chivalry, or to stigmatise his work as superficial, upon account of that omission. I shall have occasion to remark below, that Dr. W. who, in turning over this superficial work, (as he is pleased to call it,) seems to have shut his eyes against every ray of good sense and just observation, has condescended to borrow from it a very gross mistake. Dr. W.'s own positions, to the support of which his subsequent facts and arguments might be expected to apply, are two: 1. That romances of chivalry being of Spanish original, the heroes and the scene were generally of that country; 2. That the subjects of these romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. The first position, being complicated, should be divided into the two following: 1. That romances of chivalry were of Spanish original; 2. That the heroes and the scene of them were generally of that country. Here are therefore three positions, to which I shall say a few words in their order; but I think it proper to premise a sort of definition of a romance of chivalry: if Dr. W. had done the same, he must have seen the hazard of systematizing in a subject of such extent, upon a cursory perusal of a few modern books, which indeed ought not to have been quoted in the discussion of a question of antiquity. A romance of chivalry, therefore, according to my notion, is any fabulous narration, in verse or prose, in which the principal characters are knights, conducting themselves in their several situations and adventures, agreeably to the institutions and customs of chivalry. Whatever names the characters may bear, whether historical or fictitious, and in whatever country, or age, the scene of the action may be laid, if the actors are represented as knights, I should call such a fable a romance of chivalry. I am not aware that this definition is more comprehensive than it ought to be: but, let it be narrowed ever so much; let any other be substituted in its room; Dr. W.'s first position, that romances of chivalry were of Spanish original, cannot be maintained. Monsieur Huet would have taught him better. He says very truly, that “les plus vieux,” of the Spanish romances, “sont posterieurs à nos Tristans et à nos Lancelots, de quelques centaines d'années.” Indeed the fact is indisputable. Cervantes, in a passage quoted by Dr. W. speaks of Amadis de Gaula (the first four books) as the first book of chivalry printed in Spain. Though he says only printed, it is plain that he means written. And indeed there is no good reason to believe that Amadis was written long before it was printed. It is unnecessary to enlarge upon a system, which places the original of romances of chivalry in a nation, which has none to produce older than the art of printing. Dr. W.'s second position, that the heroes and the scene of these romances were generally of the country of Spain, is as unfortunate as the former. Whoever will take the second volume of Du Fresnoy's Bibliotheque des Romans, and look over his lists of Romans de Chevalerie, will see that not one of the celebrated heroes of the old romances was a Spaniard. With respect to the general scene of such irregular and capricious fictions, the writers of which were used, literally, to “give to airy nothing, a local habitation and a name,” I am sensible of the impropriety of asserting any thing positively, without an accurate examination of many more of them than have fallen in my way. I think, however, I might venture to assert, in direct contradiction to Dr. W. that the scene of them was not generally in Spain. My own notion is, that it was very rarely there; except in those few romances which treat expressly of the affair at Roncesvalles. His last position, that the subjects of these romances were the crusades of the European Christians, against the Saracens of Asia and Africa, might be admitted with a small amendment. If it stood thus: the subjects of some, or a few, of these romances were the crusades, &c. the position would have been incontrovertible; but then it would not have been either new, or fit to support a system. After this state of Dr. W.'s hypothesis, one must be curious to see what he himself has offered in proof of it. Upon the two first positions he says not one word: I suppose he intended that they should be received as axioms. He begins his illustrations of his third position, by repeating it (with a little change of terms, for a reason which will appear): “Indeed the wars of the Christians against the Pagans were the general subject of the romances of chivalry. They all seem to have had their ground-work in two fabulous monkish historians, the one, who under the name of Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, wrote The History and Atchievements of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers;—the other our Geoffry of Monmouth.” Here we see the reason for changing the terms of crusades and Saracens into wars and Pagans; for, though the expedition of Charles into Spain, as related by the Pseudo-Turpin, might be called a crusade against the Saracens, yet, unluckily, our Geoffry has nothing like a crusade, nor a single Saracen in his whole history; which indeed ends before Mahomet was born. I must observe too, that the speaking of Turpin's history under the title of The History of the Atchievements of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers, is inaccurate and unscholar-like, as the fiction of a limited number of twelve peers is of a much later date than that history. However, the ground-work of the romances of chivalry being thus marked out and determined, one might naturally expect some account of the first builders and their edifices; but instead of that we have a digression upon Oliver and Roland, in which an attempt is made to say something of those two famous characters, not from the old romances, but from Shakspeare, and Don Quixote, and some modern Spanish romances. My learned friend, the Dean of Carlisle, has taken notice of the strange mistake of Dr. W. in supposing that the feats of Oliver were recorded under the name of Palmerin de Oliva; a mistake, into which no one could have fallen, who had read the first page of the book. And I very much suspect that there is a mistake, though of less magnitude, in the assertion, that “in the Spanish romance of Bernardo del Carpio, and in that of Roncesvalles, the feats of Roland are recorded under the name of Roldan el Encantador.” Dr. W.'s authority for this assertion was, I apprehend, the following passage of Cervantes, in the first chapter of Don Quixote: “Mejor estava con Bernardo del Carpio porque en Roncesvalles avia muerto à Roldan el Encantado, valiendose de la industria de Hercules, quando ahogò à Anteon el hijo de la Tierra entre los braços.” Where it is observable, that Cervantes does not appear to speak of more than one romance; he calls Roldan el encantado, and not el encantador; and moreover the word encantado is not to be understood as an addition to Roldan's name, but merely as a participle, expressing that he was enchanted, or made invulnerable by enchantment. But this is a small matter. And perhaps encantador may be an error of the press for encantado. From this digression Dr. W. returns to the subject of the old romances in the following manner. “This driving the Saracens out of France and Spain, was, as we say, the subject of the elder romances. And the first that was printed in Spain was the famous Amadis de Gaula.” According to all common rules of construction, I think the latter sentence must be understood to imply, that Amadis de Gaula was one of the elder romances, and that the subject of it was the driving of the Saracens out of France and Spain; whereas, for the reasons already given, Amadis, in comparison with many other romances, must be considered as a very modern one; and the subject of it has not the least connection with any driving of the Saracens whatsoever.—But what follows is still more extraordinary. “When this subject was well exhausted, the affairs of Europe afforded them another of the same nature. For after that the western parts had pretty well cleared themselves of these inhospitable guests; by the excitements of the popes, they carried their arms against them into Greece and Asia, to support the Byzantine empire, and recover the holy sepulchre. This gave birth to a new tribe of romances, which we may call of the second race or class. And as Amadis de Gaula was at the head of the first, so, correspondently to the subject, Amadis de Græcia was at the head of the latter.”—It is impossible, I apprehend, to refer this subject to any antecedent but that in the paragraph last quoted, viz. the driving of the Saracens out of France and Spain. So that, according to one part of the hypothesis here laid down, the subject of the driving the Saracens out of France and Spain, was well exhausted by the old romances (with Amadis de Gaula at the head of them) before the crusades; the first of which is generally placed in the year 1095: and, according to the latter part, the crusades happened in the interval between Amadis de Gaula, and Amadis de Græcia; a space of twenty, thirty, or at most fifty years, to be reckoned backwards from the year 1532, in which year an edition of Amadis de Græcia is mentioned by Du Fresnoy. What induced Dr. W. to place Amadis de Græcia at the head of his second race or class of romances, I cannot guess. The fact is, that Amadis de Græcia is no more concerned in supporting the Byzantine empire, and recovering the holy sepulchre, than Amadis de Gaula in driving the Saracens out of France and Spain. And a still more pleasant circumstance is, that Amadis de Græcia, through more than nine-tenths of his history, is himself a declared Pagan. And here ends Dr. W.'s account of the old romances of chivalry, which he supposes to have had their ground-work in Turpin's history. Before he proceeds to the others, which had their ground-work in our Geoffry, he interposes a curious solution of a puzzling question concerning the origin of lying in romances. “Nor were the monstrous embellishments of enchantments, &c. the invention of the romancers, but formed upon eastern tales, brought thence by travellers from their crusades and pilgrimages; which indeed have a cast peculiar to the wild imaginations of the eastern people. We have a proof of this in the Travels of Sir J. Maundevile.”—He then gives us a story of an enchanted dragon in the isle of Cos, from Sir J. Maundevile, who wrote his Travels in 1356; by way of proof, that the tales of enchantments, &c. which had been current here in romances of chivalry for above two hundred years before, were brought by travellers from the East! The proof is certainly not conclusive. On the other hand, I believe it would be easy to show, that, at the time when romances of chivalry began, our Europe had a very sufficient stock of lies of her own growth, to furnish materials for every variety of monstrous embellishment. At most times, I conceive, and in most countries, imported lies are rather for luxury than necessity. Dr. W. comes now to that other ground-work of the old romances, our Geoffry of Monmouth. And him he dispatches very shortly, because, as has been observed before, it is impossible to find any thing in him to the purpose of crusades, or Saracens. Indeed, in treating of Spanish romances, it must be quite unnecessary to say much of Geoffry, as, whatever they have of “the British Arthur and his conjurer Merlin,” is of so late a fabrick, that, in all probability, they took it from the more modern Italian romances, and not from Geoffry's own book. As to the doubt, “Whether it was by blunder or design that they changed the Saxons to Saracens,” I should wish to postpone the consideration of it, till we have some Spanish romance before us, in which King Arthur is introduced carrying on a war against Saracens. And thus, I think, I have gone through the several facts and arguments, which Dr. W. has advanced in support of his third position. In support of his two first positions, as I have observed already, he has said nothing; and, indeed, nothing can be said. The remainder of his note contains another hypothesis concerning the strange jumble of nonsense and religion in the old romances, which I shall not examine. The reader, I presume, by this time is well aware that Dr. W.'s information upon this subject is to be received with caution. I shall only take a little notice of one or two facts, with which he sets out.—“In these old romances there was much religious superstition mixed with their other extravagancies; as appears even from their very names and titles. The first romance of Lancelot of the Lake and King Arthur and his Knights, is called the History of Saint Graal.—So another is called Kyrie eleison of Montauban. For in these days Deuteronomy and Paralipomenon were supposed to be the names of holy men.”—I believe no one, who has ever looked into the common romance of King Arthur, will be of opinion, that the part relating to the Saint Graal was the first romance of Lancelot of the Lake and King Arthur and his Knights. And as to the other supposed to be called Kyrie eleison of Montauban, there is no reason to believe that any romance with that title ever existed. This is the mistake, which, as was hinted above, Dr. W. appears to have borrowed from Huet. The reader will judge. Huet is giving an account of the romances in Don Quixote's library, which the curate and barber saved from the flames.—“Ceux qu'ils jugent dignes d'etre gardez sont les quatre livres d'Amadis de Gaule,—Palmerin d'Angleterre,—Don Belianis; le miroir de chevalerie; Tirante le Blanc, et Kyrie éleison de Montauban (car au bon vieux temps on crogoit que Kyrie éleison et Paralipomenon etoient les noms de quelques saints) où les subtilitez de la Damoiselle Plaisir-de-ma-vie, et les tromperies de la Veuve reposée, sont fort louées.”—It is plain, I think, that Dr. W. copied what he says of Kyrie éleison of Montauban, as well as the witticism in his last sentence, from this passage of Huet, though he has improved upon his original by introducing a saint Deuteronomy, upon what authority I know not. It is still more evident (from the passage of Cervantes, which is quoted below* [Subnote: *Don Quixote, lib. i. c. vi. “Valame Dios, dixo el Cura, dando una gran voz, que acqui esté Tirante el Blanco! Dadmele acà, compadre, que hago cuenta que he hallado en èl un tesoro de contento, y una mina de passatiempos. Aqui está Don Quirieleyson de Montalvan, valeroso Cavallero, y su hermano Tomas de Montalvan, y el Cavallero Fonseca, con la batalla que el valiente Detriante [r. de Tirante) hizo con el alano, y las agudezas de la Donzella Plazer de mi vida, con los amores y embustes de la viuda Reposada, y la Senora Emperatriz, enamorado de Hippolito su escudero.” Aqui está Don Quirieleyson, &c. Here, i. e. in the romance of Tirante el Blanco, is Don Quirieleyson, &c.] ,) that Huet was mistaken in supposing Kyrie éleison de Montauban to be the name of a separate romance. He might as well have made La Damoiselle Plaisir-de-ma-vie and La Veuve reposée, the names of separate romances. All three are merely characters in the romance of Tirante le Blanc.—And so much for Dr. W.'s account of the origin and nature of romances of chivalry. Tyrwhitt. No future editor of Shakspeare will, I believe, readily consent to omit the dissertation here examined, though it certainly has no more relation to the play before us, than to any other of our author's dramas. Mr. Tyrwhitt's judicious observations upon it have given it a value which it certainly had not before; and, I think, I may venture to foretell, that Dr. Warburton's futile performance, like the pismire which Martial tells us was accidentally incrusted with amber, will be ever preserved, for the sake of the admirable comment in which it is now enshrined. “&lblank; quæ fuerat vità contempta manente, “Funeribus facta est nunc pretiosa suis.” Malone.

Note return to page 951 10204003Enter Holofernes,] There is very little personal reflexion in Shakspeare. Either the virtue of those times, or the candour of our author, has so effected, that his satire is, for the most part, general, and, as, himself says: “&lblank; his taxing like a wild-goose flies, “Unclaim'd of any man &lblank;.” The place before us seems to be an exception. For by Holofernes is designed a particular character, a pedant and school-master of our author's time, one John Florio, a teacher of the Italian tongue in London, who has given us a small dictionary of that language under the title of A World of Words, which, in his epistle dedicatory he tells us, “is of little less value than Stephens's Treasure of the Greek Tongue,” the most complete work that was ever yet compiled of its kind. In his preface, he calls those who criticised his works, “sea-dogs or land-critics; monsters of men, if not beasts rather than men; whose teeth are canibals, their toongs adders forks, their lips aspes poison, their eyes basiliskes, their breath the breath of a grave, their words like swordes of Turks, that strive which shall dive deepest into a Christian lying bound before them.” Well, therefore, might the mild Nathaniel desire Holofernes to abrogate scurrility. His profession too is the reason that Holofernes deals so much in Italian sentences. There is an edition of Love's Labour's Lost, printed in 1598, and said to be presented before her Highness this last Christmas, 1597. The next year 1598, comes out our John Florio, with his World of Words, recentibus odiis; and in the preface quoted above, falls upon the comic poet for bringing him on the stage. “There is another sort of leering curs, that rather snarle than bite, whereof I could instance in one, who lighting on a good sonnet of a gentleman's, a friend of mine, that loved better to be a poet than to be counted so, called the author a Rymer.— Let Aristophanes and his comedians make plaies, and scowre their mouths on Socrates, those very mouths they make to vilifie, shall be the means to amplifie his virtue,” &c. Here Shakspeare is so plainly marked out as not to be mistaken. As to the sonnet of the gentleman his friend, we may be assured it was no other than his own. And without doubt was parodied in the very sonnet beginning with The praiseful princess, &c. in which our author makes Holofernes say, He will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. And how much John Florio thought this affectation argued facility, or quickness of wit, we see in this preface where he falls upon his enemy, H. S. “His name is H. S. Do not take it for the Roman H. S. unless it be as H. S. is twice as much and an half, as half an AS.” With a great deal more to the same purpose; concluding his preface in these words, The resolute John Florio. From the ferocity of this man's temper, it was that Shakspeare chose for him the name which Rabelais gives to his pedant, of Thubal Holoferne. Warburton. I am not of the learned commentator's opinion, that the satire of Shakspeare is so seldom personal. It is of the nature of personal invectives to be soon unintelligible; and the author that gratifies private malice, animam in vulnere ponit, destroys the future efficacy of his own writings, and sacrifices the esteem of succeeding times to the laughter of a day. It is no wonder, therefore, that the sarcasms, which, perhaps, in our author's time, set the playhouse in a roar, are now lost among general reflections. Yet whether the character of Holofernes was pointed at any particular man, I am, notwithstanding the plausibility of Dr. Warburton's conjecture, inclined to doubt. Every man adheres as long as he can to his own pre-conceptions. Before I read this note I considered the character of Holofernes as borrowed from the Rhombus of Sir Philip Sidney, who, in a kind of pastoral entertainment, exhibited to Queen Elizabeth, has introduced a school-master so called, speaking a leash of languages at once, and puzzling himself and his auditors with a jargon like that of Holofernes in the present play. Sidney himself might bring the character from Italy; for as Peacham observes, the school-master has long been one of the ridiculous personages in the farces of that country. Johnson. Dr. Warburton is certainly right in his supposition that Florio is meant by the character of Holofernes. Florio had given the first affront. “The plaies, says he, that they plaie in England, are neither right comedies, nor right tragedies; but representations of histories without any decorum.”—The scraps of Latin and Italian are transcribed from his works, particularly the proverb about Venice, which has been corrupted so much. The affectation of the letter, which argues facilitie, is likewise a copy of his manner. We meet with much of it in the sonnets to his patrons: “In Italie your lordship well hath seene “Their manners, monuments, magnificence, “Their language learnt, in sound, in style, in sense, “Prooving by profiting, where you have beene. “&lblank; To adde to fore-learn'd facultie, facilitie.” We see, then, the character of the schoolmaster might be written with less learning, than Mr. Colman conjectured: nor is the use of the word thrasonical, [See this play, Act V. Sc. I.] any argument that the author had read Terence. It was introduced to our language long before Shakspeare's time. Stanyhurst writes, in a translation of one of Sir Thomas More's Epigrams: “Lynckt was in wedlocke a loftye thrasonical hufsnuffe.” It can scarcely be necessary to animadvert any further upon what Mr. Colman has advanced in the appendix to his Terence. If this gentleman, at his leisure from modern plays, will condescend to open a few old ones, he will soon be satisfied that Shakspeare was obliged to learn and repeat in the course of his profession, such Latin fragments as are met with in his works. The formidable one, ira furor brevis est, which is quoted from Timon, may be found, not in plays only, but in every tritical essay from that of King James to that of Dean Swift inclusive. I will only add, that if Mr. Colman had previously looked at the panegyrie on Cartwright, he could not so strangely have misrepresented my argument from it: but thus it must ever be with the most ingenious men, when they talk without-book. Let me, however, take this opportunity of acknowledging the very genteel language which he has been pleased to use on this occasion. Mr. Warton informs us in his Life of Sir Thomas Pope, that there was an old play of Holophernes acted before the Princess Elizabeth in the year 1556. Farmer. The verses above cited, are prefixed to Florio's Dict. 1598. Malone. In support of Dr. Farmer's opinion, the following passage from Orlando Furioso, 1594, may be brought: “&lblank; Knowing him to be a Thrasonical mad cap, they have sent me a Gnathonical companion,” &c. Greene, in the dedication to his Arcadia, has the same word: “&lblank; as of some thrasonical huffe-snuffe.” Florio's first work is registered on the books of the Stationers' Company, under the following title: “Aug. 1578. Florio his First Frute, being Dialogues in Italian and English, with certen Instructions, &c. to the learning the Italian Tonge.” In 1598, he dedicated his Italian and English Dictionary to the Earl of Southampton. In the year 1600, he published his translation of Montaigne. Florio pointed his ridicule not only at dramatic performances, but even at performers. Thus, in his preface to this work; “&lblank; as if an owle should represent an eagle, or some tara-rag player should act the princely Telephus with a voyce as rag'd as his clothes, a grace as bad as his voyce.” Steevens. Assuredly Shakspeare had not John Florio in his thoughts when he formed the character of Holofernes; nor has any probable ground been stated for such a supposition. The merely saying that the plays exhibited long before Shakspeare's, under the denomination of Histories, were not regular tragedies, and did not observe a due dramatick decorum, cannot surely be considered as a personal offence, especially to one that, when Florio's Second Frutes was published, had not I believe written a single historical drama. Add to this, that Florio, like our poet, was particularly patronised by Lord Southampton, and therefore we may be confident he would not make the Italian an object of ridicule, even if he had deserved it: of which Warburton has given no satisfactory proof. A contemporary writer describes him as a very homely man, but does not add one word that warrants the supposition that he was a fantastick pedant. “For profitable recreation” (says Sir William Cornwallis the younger) that noble French Knight, the Lord de Montaigne, is most excellent; whom, though I have not been so much beholding to the French as to see in his original, yet divers of his pieces I have seen translated, they that understand both languages, say very well done; and I am able to say (if you will take the word of ignorance), translated into a style admitting as few idle words as our language will endure. It is well fitted in that newe garment; and Montaigne speaks now good English. It is done by a fellow less beholding to nature for his fortune then witte; yet less for his face than fortunes: the truth is, he lookes more like a good fellowe than a wise man, and yet he is wise beyond either his fortune or education.” Essaies, 16mo. 1600. John Florio was born in the year 1545, and probably came into England early in the reign of Elizabeth. He published his first set of Dialogues in Italian and English, in 1578; and in May, 1581, became a member of Magdalen College, in Oxford, as a servitor of M'Barnaby Barnes, a son of the Bishop of Durham's, though he is not noticed by Antony Wood. How long he continued at the University I am unable to ascertain. He died in 1625. Daniel, the poet, was his brother-in-law. Shakspeare's pedant, though not I conceive intended to represent this inoffensive man, had, I make no doubt, an archetype; and I think the character was formed out of two pedants in Rabelais: Master Tubal Holophernes, and Master Janotus de Bragmardo. Holophernes taught Gargantua his A. B. C.; and afterwards spent forty-six-years in his education. We have, however, no specimen in Rabelais of his method of teaching, or of his language. But the oration of Janotus de Bragmardo for the recovery of the bells, is exactly what our poet has attributed to his pedant's leash of languages. Malone. That Florio was not meant by Holofernes may be farther shown by an examination of that writer's general style, which is characterized by a fondness for the most homely phrases that our language can supply. But after all, may not Shakspeare have intended a general satire upon the pedantry which was prevalent in his time. See before, p. 362, the quotation from “Lingua,” or for the practice of an earlier period, see Wilson's Arte of Rhetorique, 1553, folio 86, where he has given us a ludicrous specimen of an “ynkehorne letter.” Boswell.

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