Note return to page 1 1In the old editions in quarto, for J. Roberts, 1600, and in the old folio, 1623, there is no enumeration of the persons. It was first made by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 2 2It is not easy to determine the orthography of this name. In the old editions the owner of it is called—Salanio, Salino, and Solanio. Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3This character I have restored to the Personæ Dramatis. The name appears in the first folio: the description is taken from the quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 4&lblank; argosies &lblank;] A name given in our author's time to ships of great burthen, probably galleons, such as the Spaniards now use in their West India trade. Johnson. In Ricaut's Maxims of Turkish Polity, ch. xiv. it is said, “Those vast carracks called argosies, which are so much famed for the vastness of their burthen and bulk, were corruptly so denominated from Ragosies,” i. e. ships of Ragusa, a city and territory on the gulf of Venice, tributary to the Porte. If my memory does not fail me, the Ragusans lent their last great ship to the King of Spain for the Armada, and it was lost on the coast of Ireland. Shakspeare, as Mr. Heath observes, has given the name of Ragozine to the pirate in Measure for Measure. Steevens. Argosies are properly defined to be “ships of great burthen,” and so they are described almost wherever they are mentioned, Mr. Steevens has quoted Rycaut's Maxims of Turkish Polity, to shew that the term originated in a corruption of Ragosies, i. e. ships of Ragusa. However specious this may appear, it is to be observed that Rycaut, a writer at the end of the seventeenth century, only states it as a matter of report, not as a fact; and he seems to have followed the slight authority of Roberts's Marchant's Map of Commerce. If any instance shall be produced of the use of such a word as ragosie, the objection must be given up. In the mean time it may be permitted to hazard another opinion, which is, that the word in question derives its origin from the famous ship Argo; and indeed Shakspeare himself appears to have hinted as much; for the story of Jason is twice adverted to in the course of this play. On one of these occasions Gratiano certainly alludes to Antonio's argosie when he says: “We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.” Act III. Sc. II. Gregory of Tours has more than once made use of Argis to express a ship generally. Douce.

Note return to page 5 5&lblank; burghers of the flood,] Both ancient and modern editors have hitherto been content to read—“burghers on the flood,” though a parallel passage in As You Like It— “&lblank; native burghers of this desolate city,” might have led to the present correction. Steevens. The “signiors and rich burghers on the flood” are the Venetians, who may well be said to live on the sea. Douce.

Note return to page 6 6Plucking the grass, &c.] By holding up the grass, or any light body that will bend by a gentle blast, the direction of the wind is found: “This way I used in shooting. When I was in the mydde way betwixt the markes, which was an open place, there I toke a fethere; or a lyttle light grasse, and so learned how the wind stood.” Ascham. Johnson.

Note return to page 7 7Peering &lblank;] Thus the old quarto printed by Hayes, that by Roberts, and the first folio. The quarto of 1637, a book of no authority, reads—prying. Malone.

Note return to page 8 8&lblank; Andrew &lblank;] The name of the ship. Johnson.

Note return to page 9 9&lblank; dock'd in sand,] The old copies have—docks. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 10 1Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,] In Bullokar's English Expositor, 1616, to vail, is thus explained: “It means to put off the hat, to strike sail, to give sign of submission.” So, in Stephen Gosson's book, called Playes confuted in several Actions: “They might have valed and bended to the king's idol.” It signifies also—to lower, to let down. Thus, in the ancient metrical romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 60: “They avaled the brigge and lete them yn.” Again, (as Mr. Douce observes to me,) in Hardynge's Chronicle: “And by th' even their sayles avaled were set.” Again, in Middleton's Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “I'll vail my crest to death for her dear sake.” Again, in The Fair Maid of the West, 1613, by Heywood: “&lblank; it did me good “To see the Spanish carveil vail her top “Unto my mayden flag.” A carvel is a small vessel. It is mentioned by Raleigh, and I often meet with the word in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607. Steevens.

Note return to page 11 2&lblank; Now, by two-headed Janus,] Here, says Dr. Warburton, Shakspeare shows his knowledge in the antique: and so does Taylor the water-poet, who describes Fortune, “Like a Janus with a double-face.” Farmer.

Note return to page 12 3&lblank; peep through their eyes,] This gives a very picturesque image of the countenance in laughing, when the eyes appear half shut. Warburton.

Note return to page 13 4&lblank; their teeth in way of smile,] Because such are apt enough to show their teeth in anger. Warburton.

Note return to page 14 5My lord Bassanio, &c.] This speech [which by Mr. Rowe and subsequent editors was allotted to Salanio,] is given to Lorenzo in the old copies: and Salarino and Salanio make their exit at the close of the preceding speech. Which is certainly right. Lorenzo (who, with Gratiano, had only accompanied Bassanio, till he should find Antonio,) prepares now to leave Bassanio to his business; but is detained by Gratiano, who enters into a conversation with Antonio. Tyrwhitt. I have availed myself of this judicious correction, by restoring the speech to Lorenzo, and marking the exits of Salarino and Salanio at the end of the preceding speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 15 6&lblank; lose it,] All the ancient copies read—loose; a misprint, I suppose, for the word standing in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 16 7A stage, where every man must play a part,] The same thought occurs in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 1593: “A worldling here, I must hie to my grave; “For this is but a May-game mixt with woe, “A borrowde roume where we our pageants play, “A skaffold plaine,” &c. Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “She found the world but a wearisome stage to her, where she played a part against her will.” Steevens.

Note return to page 17 8Let me play the Fool:] Alluding to the common comparison of human life to a stage-play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's part, which was a constant character in the old farces; from whence came the phrase, to play the fool. Warburton.

Note return to page 18 9There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream &lblank;] The poet here alludes to the manner in which the film extends itself over milk in scalding; and he had the same appearance in his eye when writing a foregoing line: “With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.” So, also, the author of Bussy d'Ambois: “Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces.” Henley.

Note return to page 19 1&lblank; a wilful stillness &lblank;] i. e. an obstinate silence. Malone.

Note return to page 20 *So quartos; first folio, an oracle.

Note return to page 21 2&lblank; let no dog bark!] This seems to be a proverbial expression. So, in Acolastus, a comedy 1510: “&lblank; nor there shall no dogge barke at mine ententes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 22 3&lblank; who, I am very sure,] The old copies read: “&lblank; when, I am very sure.” Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 23 4&lblank; would almost damn those ears,] Several old editions have it dam, damme, and daunt. Some more correct copies, damn. The author's meaning is this: That some people are thought wise, whilst they keep silence; who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters, that the hearers cannot help calling them fools, and so incur the judgment denounced in the Gospel. Theobald. It is dam (which is merely the old spelling for damn) in the first folio and both the quartos; damme, in the second folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 24 5I'll end my exhortation after dinner.] The humour of this consists in its being an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who, being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their sermon called the exhortation, till after dinner. Warburton.

Note return to page 25 *First folio, mo; quartos, moe.

Note return to page 26 *So quarto R. the folio and quarto H. fare you well.

Note return to page 27 6&lblank; for this gear.] In Act II. Sc. II. the same phrase occurs again: “If fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.” This is a colloquial expression perhaps of no very determined import. Steevens. So, in Sapho and Phao, a comedy by Lyly, 1591: “As for you, Sir boy, I will teach you how to run away; you shall be stript from top to toe, and whipt with nettles; I will handle you for this geare well: I say no more.” Again, in Nashe's Epistle Dedicatory to his Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 1593: “I mean to trounce him after twenty in the hundred, and have a bout with him, with two staves and a pike for this geare.” Malone.

Note return to page 28 7Is that any thing now?] All the old copies read,—is that any thing now? I suppose we should read—is that any thing new? Johnson. The sense of the old reading is—Does what he has just said amount to any thing, or mean any thing? Steevens. Surely the reading of the old copies is right. Antonio asks: Is that any thing now? and Bassanio answers, that Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,—the greatest part of his discourse is not any thing. Tyrwhitt. So, in Othello: “Can any thing be made of this?” The old copies, by a manifest error of the press, read—It is that, &c. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 29 †Folio omits as.

Note return to page 30 8&lblank; a more swelling port, &c.] Port, in the present instance, comprehends the idea of expensive equipage, and external pomp of appearance. Thus, in the first Iliad, as translated by Chapman, 1611: “&lblank; all the gods receiv'd, “(All rising from their thrones) their sire; attending to his court “None sate when he rose; none delaid, the furnishing his port, “Till he came neare: all met with him and brought him to his throne.” Steevens. So, in Sidney's Arcadia: “My port and pomp did well become a king of Argos' daughter.” Malone.

Note return to page 31 9&lblank; when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow, &c.] This thought occurs also in Decker's Villanies discovered by Lanthorne and Candlelight, &c. 4to. bl. l.: “And yet I have seene a Creditor in Prison weepe when he beheld the Debtor, and to lay out money of his owne purse to free him: he shot a second arrow to find the first.” I learn, from a MS. note by Oldys, that of this pamphlet there were no less than eight editions; the last in 1638. I quote from that of 1616. Steevens. This method of finding a lost arrow is prescribed by P. Crescentius in his treatise de Agricultura, lib. x. cap. xxviii. and is also mentioned in Howel's Letters, vol. i. p. 183, edit. 1655, 12mo. Douce.

Note return to page 32 1&lblank; like a wilful youth,] This does not at all agree with what he had before promised, that what followed should be pure innocence. For wilfulness is not quite so pure. We should read —witless, i. e. heedless; and this agrees exactly to that to which he compares his case, of a school-boy; who, for want of advised watch, lost his first arrow, and sent another after it with more attention. But wilful agrees not at all with it. Warburton. Dr. Warburton confounds the time past and present. He has formerly lost his money like a wilful youth; he now borrows more in pure innocence, without disguising his former faults, or his present designs. Johnson.

Note return to page 33 *Folio omits me now.

Note return to page 34 2&lblank; prest unto it:] Prest may not here signify impress'd, as into military service, but ready. Pret, Fr. So, in Cæsar and Pompey, 1607: “What must be, must be; Cæsar's prest for all.” Again, in Hans Beer-pot, &c. 1618: “&lblank; your good word “Is ever prest to do an honest man good.” Again, in the concluding couplet of Churchyard's Warning to the Wanderers Abroad, 1593: “Then shall my mouth, my muse, my pen and all, “Be prest to serve at each good subject's call.” I could add twenty more instances of the word being used with this signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 35 3&lblank; sometimes from her eyes &lblank;] So all the editions; but it certainly ought to be, sometime, i. e. formerly, some time ago, at a certain time: and it appears by the subsequent scene, that Bassanio was at Belmont with the Marquis de Montferrat, and saw Portia in her father's life time. Theobald. It is strange, Mr. Theobald did not know, that in old English, sometimes is synonymous with formerly. Nothing is more frequent in title-pages, than “sometimes fellow of such a college.” Farmer.

Note return to page 36 *First folio, small.

Note return to page 37 4&lblank; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs,] i. e. Superfluity sooner acquires white hairs; becomes old. We still say, How did he come by it? Malone.

Note return to page 38 *First folio, reason.

Note return to page 39 5&lblank; the Neapolitan prince.] The Neapolitans in the time of Shakspeare, were eminently skilled in all that belongs to horsemanship; nor have they, even now, forfeited their title to the same praise. Steevens. Though our author, when he composed this play, could not have read the following passage in Florio's translation of Montaigne's Essaies, 1603, he had perhaps met with the relation in some other book of that time: “While I was a young lad, (says old Montaigne,) I saw the prince of Salmona, at Naples, manage a young, a rough, and fierce horse, and show all manner of horsemanship; to hold testons or reals under his knees and toes so fast as if they had been nayled there, and all to show his sure, steady, and unmoveable sitting.” Malone.

Note return to page 40 6Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse;] Colt is used for a witless, heady, gay youngster, whence the phrase used of an old man too juvenile, that he still retains his colt's tooth. See Henry VIII. Act I. Sc. III. See also Love's Labour's Lost, Act III. Sc. I. Johnson.

Note return to page 41 7&lblank; is there the county Palatine.] I am almost inclined to believe, that Shakspeare has more allusions to particular facts and persons than his readers commonly suppose. The count here mentioned was, perhaps, Albertus a Lasco, a Polish Palatine, who visited England in our author's life-time, was eagerly caressed, and splendidly entertained; but running in debt, at last stole away, and endeavoured to repair his fortune by enchantment. Johnson. County and count in old language were synonymous.—The Count Alasco was in London in 1583. Malone.

Note return to page 42 *First folio, to be.

Note return to page 43 8&lblank; if a throstle &lblank;] Old copies—trassel. Corrected by Mr. Pope. The throstle is the thrush. The word occurs again in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “The throstle with his note so true &lblank;.” Malone. That the throstle is a distinct bird from the thrush, may be known from T. Newton's Herball to the Bible, quoted in a note on the foregoing passage in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 44 *First folio, should.

Note return to page 45 9&lblank; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian;] A satire on the ignorance of the young English travellers in our author's time. Warburton.

Note return to page 46 1&lblank; a proper man's picture;] Proper is handsome. So, in Othello: “This Ludovico is a proper man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 47 2&lblank; Scottish lord,] Scottish, which is in the quarto, was omitted in the first folio [and other printed instead of it] for fear of giving offence to King James's countrymen. Theobald.

Note return to page 48 3&lblank; I think, the Frenchman became his surety,] Alluding to the constant assistance, or rather constant promises of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in their quarrels with the English. This alliance is here humorously satirized. Warburton.

Note return to page 49 4How like you the young German, &c.] In Shakspeare's time the Duke of Bavaria visited London, and was made Knight of the Garter. Perhaps in this enumeration of Portia's suitors, there may be some covert allusion to those of Queen Elizabeth. Johnson.

Note return to page 50 5&lblank; I wish them a fair departure.] So the first folio: the quartos, “I pray God grant them,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 51 6How now! what news?] Omitted in the first folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 52 *First folio omits for.

Note return to page 53 7&lblank; the condition &lblank;] i. e. the temper, qualities. So, in Othello: “&lblank; and then, of so gentle a condition!” Malone.

Note return to page 54 8&lblank; Shylock.] Our author, as Dr. Farmer informs me, took the name of his Jew from an old pamphlet, entitled “Caleb Shillocke his prophecie, or the Jewes Prediction.” London, printed for T. P. [Thomas Pavier,] no date. Steevens. If Shakspeare took the name of Shylock from the pamphlet mentioned by Dr. Farmer, it certainly was not printed by Thomas Pavier; to whom Mr. Steevens has ascribed it; for that prototype of Curl had not commenced a bookseller before 1598. The pamphlet in question, which was not in Dr. Farmer's collection, (nor do I know where it is to be found,) may have been printed for Thomas Purfoot. Malone. Mr. Bindley had a copy of this pamphlet, the date of which was 1607. Boswell.

Note return to page 55 9Antonio is a good man.] So, in Marston's Dutch Courtezan: “There's my bond for your plate—Your bill had been sufficient, y'are a good man!” Malone.

Note return to page 56 1&lblank; the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into:] Perhaps there is no character through all Shakspeare, drawn with more spirit, and just discrimination, than Shylock's. His language, allusions, and ideas, are every where so appropriate to a Jew, that Shylock might be exhibited for an exemplar of that peculiar people. Henley.

Note return to page 57 2He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice.] “It is almost incredyble what gaine the Venetians receive by the usury of the Jewes, both pryvately and in common. For in everye citee the Jewes kepe open shops of usurie, taking gaiges of ordinarie for xv in the hundred by the yere; and if at the yeres ende the gaige be not redeemed, it is forfeite, or at the least dooen away to a great disadvantage: by reason whereof the Jewes are out of measure wealthie in those parties.” Thomas's Historye of Italye, 1561 4to. fol. 77. Douce.

Note return to page 58 3If I can catch him once upon the hip,] This, Dr. Johnson observes, is a phrase taken from the practice of wrestlers; and (he might have added) is an allusion to the angel's thus laying hold on Jacob when he wrestled with him. See Gen. xxxii. 24, &c. Henley. If the reader should refer to the passage alluded to in Genesis, he will find that the angel did not thus lay hold on Jacob. We meet with the phrase again in Othello: “I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip!” Boswell.

Note return to page 59 *First folio, well-worne.

Note return to page 60 †Quarto R. although.

Note return to page 61 4&lblank; the ripe wants of my friend,] Ripe wants are wants come to the height, wants that can have no longer delay. Perhaps we might read—rife wants, wants that come thick upon him. Johnson. Ripe is, I believe, the true reading. So, afterwards: “But stay the very riping of the time.” Malone. Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Here is a brief how many sports are ripe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 62 5&lblank; possess'd,] i. e. acquainted, informed. So, in Twelfth-Night: “Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 63 6How much you would?] The first folio reads—how much he would have. Roberts's quarto reads: “&lblank; are you resolv'd “How much he would have.” Boswell.

Note return to page 64 7&lblank; the eanlings &lblank;] Lambs just dropt: from ean, eniti. Musgrave.

Note return to page 65 *First folio and quarto omit the.

Note return to page 66 8&lblank; of kind,] i. e. of nature. So, Turberville, in his book of Falconry, 1575, p. 127: “So great is the curtesy of kind, as she ever seeketh to recompense any defect of hers with some other better benefit.” Again, in Drayton's Mooncalf: “&lblank; nothing doth so please her mind, “As to see mares and horses do their kind.” Collins.

Note return to page 67 9&lblank; the fulsome ewes;] Fulsome, I believe, in this instance, means lascivious, obscene. The same epithet is bestowed on the night, in Acolastus his After-Witte. By S. N. 1600: “Why shines not Phœbus in the fulsome night?” In the play of Muleasses the Turk, Madam Fulsome a Bawd is introduced. The word, however, sometimes signifies offensive in smell. So, in Chapman's version of the 17th Book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; and fill'd his fulsome scrip,” &c. Again, in the dedication to Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 63: “&lblank; noisome or fulsome for bad smells, as butcher's slaughter houses,” &c. It is likewise used by Shakspeare in King John, to express some quality offensive to nature: “And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust.” Again, in Thomas Newton's Herball to the Bible, 8vo. 1587: “Having a strong sent and fulsome smell, which neither men nor beastes take delight to smell unto.” Again, ibid.: “Boxe is naturally dry, juicelesse, fulsomely and loathsomely smelling.” Again, in Arthur Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. xv.: “But what have you poore sheepe misdone, a cattel meek and meeld, “Created for to manteine man, whose fulsome dugs do yeeld “Sweete nectar,” &c. Steevens. Minsheu supposes it to mean nauseous in so high a degree as to excite vomiting. Malone. It perhaps only meant, in this passage, pregnant. Fulsome frequently was used for full, as it certainly was in Mr. Steevens's quotation from Golding: “Pleno quæ fertis in ubere.” The same writer, in his translation of Abraham's Sacrifice, by Beza, speaks of the moon's “round and fulsome face.” Boswell.

Note return to page 68 1Fall party-colour'd lambs,] To fall is frequently used by our author as a verb active, to let fall, to drop. Boswell.

Note return to page 69 2&lblank; and those were Jacob's.] See Genesis xxx. 37, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 3This was a way to thrive, &c.] So, in the ancient song of Gernutus the Jew of Venice: “His wife must lend a shilling,   “For every weeke a penny, “Yet bring a pledge that is double worth,   “If that you will have any. “And see, likewise, you keepe your day,   “Or else you lose it all: “This was the living of the wife,   “Her cow she did it call.” Her cow, &c. seems to have suggested to Shakspeare Shylock's argument for usury. Percy.

Note return to page 71 4&lblank; I make it breed as fast:] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Foul cank'ring rust the hidden treasure frets; “But gold that's put to use more gold begets.” Malone.

Note return to page 72 5The devil can cite scripture, &c.] See St. Matthew iv. 6. Henley.

Note return to page 73 6O, what a goodly outside falshood hath!] Falshood, which as truth means honesty, is taken here for treachery and knavery, does not stand for falshood in general, but for the dishonesty now operating. Johnson.

Note return to page 74 7&lblank; my usances:] Use and usance are both words anciently employ'd for usury, both in its favourable and unfavourable sense. So, in The English Traveller, 1633: “Give me my use, give me my principal.” Again: “A toy; the main about five hundred pounds, “And the use fifty.” Steevens. Mr. Ritson asks, whether Mr. Steevens is not mistaken in saying that use and usance were anciently employed for usury. “Use and usance (he adds) mean nothing more than interest; and the former word is still used by country people in the same sense.” That Mr. Steevens however, is right respecting the word in the text, will appear from the following quotation: “I knowe a gentleman borne to five hundred pounde lande, did never receyve above a thousand pound of nete money, and within certeyne yeres ronnynge still upon usurie and double usurie, the merchants termyng it usance and double usance, by a more clenly name he did owe to master usurer five thousand pound at the last, borowyng but one thousande pounde at first, so that his land was clean gone, beynge five hundred poundes inherytance, for one thousand pound in money, and the usurie of the same money for so fewe yeres; and the man now beggeth.” Wylson on Usurye, 1572, p. 32. Reed. Usance, in our author's time, I believe, signified interest of money. It has been already used in this play in that sense: “He lends out money gratis, and brings down “The rate of usance with us here in Venice.” Again, in a subsequent part, he says, he will take “no doit of usance for his monies.” Here it must mean interest. Malone.

Note return to page 75 8Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;] So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, (written and acted before 1593,) printed in 1633: “I learn'd in Florence how to kiss my hand, “Heave up my shoulders when they call me dogge.” Malone.

Note return to page 76 9And spit &lblank;] The old copies always read spet, which spelling is followed by Milton: “&lblank; the womb “Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 77 1A breed for barren metal of his friend?] A breed, that is, interest money bred from the principal. By the epithet barren, the author would instruct us in the argument on which the advocates against usury went, which is this; that money is a barren thing, and cannot, like corn and cattle, multiply itself. And to set off the absurdity of this kind of usury, he put breed and barren in opposition. Warburton. Dr. Warburton very truly interprets this passage. Old Meres says, “Usurie and encrease by gold and silver is unlawful, because against nature; nature hath made them sterill and barren, usurie makes them procreative.” Farmer. The honour of starting this conceit belongs to Aristotle. See De Repub. lib. i. Holt White. Thus both the quarto printed by Roberts, and that by Heyes, in 1600. The folio has—a breed of. Malone.

Note return to page 78 *First folio, penalties.

Note return to page 79 †First folio, it pleaseth.

Note return to page 80 2&lblank; dwell in my necessity.] To dwell seems in this place to mean the same as to continue. To abide has both the senses of habitation and continuance. Johnson.

Note return to page 81 3&lblank; left in the fearful guard, &c.] Fearful guard, is a guard that is not to be trusted, but gives cause of fear. To fear was anciently to give as well as feel terrours. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “A mighty and a fearful head they are.” Steevens.

Note return to page 82 *First folio and quartos, I'le.

Note return to page 83 †Quarto R. so kind.

Note return to page 84 4I like not fair terms,] Kind words, good language. Johnson. Fair terms, mean, I think, a fair offer. Roberts.

Note return to page 85 5&lblank; the Prince of Morocco,] The old stage direction is “Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore, all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 86 6To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine.] To understand how the tawny prince, whose savage dignity is very well supported, means to recommend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered that red blood is a traditionary sign of courage: Thus Macbeth calls one of his frighted soldiers, a lily-liver'd boy; again, in this play, Cowards are said to have livers as white as milk; and an effeminate and timorous man is termed a milksop. Johnson. It is customary in the east for lovers to testify the violence of their passion by cutting themselves in the sight of their mistresses. See Habits du Levant, pl. 43, and Picart's Religious Ceremonies, vol. vii. p. 111. Harris.

Note return to page 87 7Hath fear'd the valiant;] i. e. terrify'd. To fear is often used by our old writers, in this sense. So, in K. Henry VI. P. III.: “For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 88 8And hedg'd me by his wit,] I suppose we may safely read— and hedg'd me by his will. Confined me by his will. Johnson. As the ancient signification of wit, was sagacity, or power of mind, I have not displaced the original reading. See our author, passim. Steevens.

Note return to page 89 9That slew the Sophy, &c.] Shakspeare seldom escapes well when he is entangled with geography. The Prince of Morocco must have travelled far to kill the Sophy of Persia. Johnson. It were well, if Shakspeare had never entangled himself with geography worse than in the present case. If the Prince of Morocco be supposed to have served in the army of Sultan Solyman (the second, for instance,) I see no geographical objection to his having killed the Sophi of Persia. See D'Herbelot in Solyman Ben Selim. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 90 *First folio and quarto H. ore-stare.

Note return to page 91 1So is Alcides beaten by his page;] The ancient copies read —his rage. Steevens. Though the whole set of editions concur in this reading, it is corrupt at bottom. Let us look into the poet's drift, and the history of the persons mentioned in the context. If Hercules, (says he,) and Lichas were to play at dice for the decision of their superiority, Lichas, the weaker man, might have the better cast of the two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage? The poet means no more, than, if Lichas had the better throw, so might Hercules himself be beaten by Lichas. And who was he, but a poor unfortunate servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his master the envenomed shirt, dipped in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, and was thrown headlong into the sea for his pains; this one circumstance of Lichas's quality known, sufficiently ascertains the emendation I have substituted, page instead of rage. Theobald.

Note return to page 92 2&lblank; therefore be advis'd.] Therefore be not precipitant; consider well what you are to do. Advis'd is the word opposite to rash. Johnson. So, in K. Richard III.: “&lblank; who in my wrath “Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?” Steevens.

Note return to page 93 3&lblank; bless't,] i. e. blessed'st. So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; harmless't creature;” a frequent vulgar contraction in Warwickshire. Steevens. There is no trace in the old copies of any contraction, the word being printed blest; and in K. Richard III. the old copies read harmless, not harmless't. Malone.

Note return to page 94 4Enter Launcelot Gobbo.] The old copies read—Enter the Clown alone; and throughout the play this character is called the Clown at most of his entrances or exits. Steevens.

Note return to page 95 5&lblank; scorn running with thy heels:] Launcelot was designed for a wag, but perhaps not for an absurd one. We may therefore suppose, no such expression would have been put in his mouth, as our author had censured in another character. When Pistol says, “he hears with ears,” Sir Hugh Evans very properly is made to exclaim, “The tevil and his tam! what phrase is this, he hears with ears? why it is affectations.” To talk of running with one's heels, has scarce less of absurdity. It has been suggested, that we should read and point the passage as follows: “Do not run; scorn running; withe thy heels:” i. e. connect them with a withe, (a band made of osiers) as the legs of cattle are hampered in some countries, to prevent their straggling far from home. The Irishman in Sir John Oldcastle petitions to be hanged in a withe; and Chapman, in his version of the tenth Odyssey, has the following passage: “&lblank; There let him lie “Till I, of cut-up osiers, did imply “A with, a fathom long, with which his feete “I made together in a sure league meete.” I think myself bound, however, to add, that in Much Ado About Nothing, the very phrase, that in the present instance is disputed, occurs: “O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels;” i. e. I recalcitrate, kick up contemptuously at the idea, as animals throw up their hind legs. Such also may be Launcelot's meaning. Steevens. I perceive no need of alteration. The pleonasm appears to me consistent with the general tenour of Launcelot's speech. He had just before expressed the same thing in three different ways:— “Use your legs; take the start; run away.” Malone. Mr. Steevens calls this absurdity, and introduces a brother critick, Sir Hugh Evans, who had maintained that “he hears with ears” was affectations: both the parties had forgotten their Bible. As to the proposed alteration “withe thy heels,” it might be asked, who ever heard of a person binding his own heels to prevent running? Mr. Malone has well defended the consistency of Launcelot's speech. It may be added that in King Richard II. Act V. Sc. III. we have “kneel upon my knees.” Douce. And in the Common Prayer “meekly kneeling upon your knees.” Boswell.

Note return to page 96 6&lblank; away! says the fiend, for the heavens;] As it is not likely that Shakspeare should make the Devil conjure Launcelot to do any thing for Heaven's sake, I have no doubt but this passage is corrupt, and that we ought to read: “Away! says the fiend, for the haven,” by which Launcelot was to make his escape, if he was determined to run away. M. Mason. Mr. Gifford, in a note on Every Man Out of His Humour, has shewn by a number of instances that for the heavens was merely a petty oath. To make the fiend conjure Launcelot to do a thing for Heaven's sake is a specimen of that “acute nonsense,” which Barrow makes one of the species of wit, and which Shakspeare was sometimes very fond of. Boswell.

Note return to page 97 *First folio omits but.

Note return to page 98 7&lblank; well, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge not; budge, says the fiend; budge not, says my conscience.] It is not improbable that this curious struggle between Launcelot's conscience and the fiend might have been suggested by some well known story in Shakspeare's time, grafted on the following Monkish fable. It occurs in a collection of apologues that remain only in manuscript, and have been severally ascribed to Hugo of Saint Victor, and Odo de Sheriton or Shirton, an English Cistercian Monk of the 12th century. “Multi sunt sicut mulier delicata et pigra. Talis vero mulier dum jacet mane in lecto et audit pulsari ad missam, cogitat secum quod vadat ad missam. Et cum caro, quæ pigra est, timet frigus, respondet et dicit, Quare ires ita mane, nonne scis quod clerici pulsant campanas propter oblationes? dormi adhuc; et sic transit pars diei. Postea iterum conscientia pungit eam quod vadat ad missam. Sed caro respondet, et dicit, Quare ires tu tam cito ad ecclesiam? certè tu destrueres corpus tuum si ita mane surrexeris, et hoc Deus non vult ut homo destruat seipsum; ergo quiesce et dormi. Et transit alia pars diei. Iterum conscientia pungit eam quod vadat ad ecclesiam; sed caro dicit, Ut quid ires tam cito? Ego bene scio quod talis vicina tua nondum vadit ad ecclesiam; dormi parum adhuc. Et sic transit alia pars diei. Postea pungit eam conscientia? sed caro dicit, Non oportet quod adhuc vadas, quia sacerdos est curialis et bene expectabit te; attende et dormi. Et sic dormiendo transit tempus. Et tamen ad ultimum verecundia tacita atque coacta, surgit et vadit ad ecclesiam, et invenit portas clausas.” Douce.

Note return to page 99 8Enter old Gobbo,] It may be inferred from the name of Gobbo, that Shakspeare designed this character to be represented with a hump-back. Steevens.

Note return to page 100 9&lblank; being more than sand-blind,] So, in Anthony Copley's Fig for Fortune, 1596: “But on the other side, when thou consider “The sand-blind errors even of justest men.” So, also in Latimer's 1st Sermon on the Lord's Prayer: “The Saintis be purre-blinde and sand-blinde.” Malone.

Note return to page 101 1&lblank; try conclusions &lblank;] To try conclusions is to try experiments. So, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “&lblank; since favour “Cannot attain thy love, I'll try conclusions.” Again, in the Lancashire Witches, 1634: “Nay then I'll try conclusions: “Mare, mare, see thou be, “And where I point thee, carry me.” Steevens. So quarto R. Quarto H. and folio read—confusions. Malone.

Note return to page 102 2Turn up on your right hand, &c.] This arch and perplexed direction to puzzle the enquirer, seems to imitate that of Syrus to Demea in the Brothers of Terence: “&lblank; ubi eas præterieris, “Ad sinistram hac rectâ plateâ: ubi ad Dianæ veneris, “Ito ad dextram: prius quam ad portam venias,” &c. Theobald.

Note return to page 103 3&lblank; God's sonties,] I know not exactly of what oath this is a corruption. I meet with God's santy in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635. Again, in The longer thou Livest the more Fool thou Art, a comedy, bl. l. without date: “God's santie, this is a goodly book indeed.” Perhaps it was once customary to swear by the santé, i. e. health, of the Supreme Being, or by his saints; or, as Mr. Ritson observes to me, by his sanctity. Oaths of such a turn are not unfrequent among our ancient writers. All, however, seem to have been so thoroughly convinced of the crime of profane swearing, that they were content to disguise their meaning by abbreviations which were permitted silently to terminate in irremediable corruptions. Steevens.

Note return to page 104 *First folio omits sir.

Note return to page 105 4Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.] Dr. Farmer is of opinion we should read Gobbo instead of Launcelot; and observes, that phraseology like this occurs also in Love's Labour's Lost: “&lblank; your servant, and Costard.” Steevens. Mr. Capel observes that from the son being termed young Launcelot, it is probable that the father had the same Christian name. Boswell. “&lblank; and Launcelot, sir.” i. e. plain Launcelot; and not, as you term him, master Launcelot.” Malone.

Note return to page 106 5&lblank; your child that shall be.] Launcelot probably here indulges himself in talking nonsense. So, afterwards:—“you may tell every finger I have with my ribs.” An anonymous critick supposes: “he means to say, I was your child, I am your boy, and shall ever be your son.” But son not being first mentioned, but placed in the middle member of the sentence, there is no ground for supposing such an inversion intended by our author. Besides, if Launcelot is to be seriously defended, what would his father learn, by being told that he who was his child, shall be his son? Malone. Launcelot may mean, that he shall hereafter prove his claim to the title of child, by his dutiful behaviour. Thus, says the Prince of Wales to King Henry IV.: I will redeem my character: “And, in the closing of some glorious day, “Be bold to tell you, that I am your son.” Steevens.

Note return to page 107 6&lblank; my phill-horse &lblank;] Thill or fill, means the shafts of a cart or waggon. So, in A Woman Never Vex'd, 1632: “&lblank; I will “Give you the fore-horse place, and I will be “I' the fills.” Again, in Fortune by Land and Sea, 1655, by Thomas Heywood and W. Rowley: “&lblank; acquaint you with Jock the forehorse, and Fib the fil-horse,” &c. Steevens. All the ancient copies have phil-horse, but no dictionary that I have met with acknowledges the word. It is, I am informed, a corruption used in Kent and some other counties, for the proper term, thill-horse. Malone. See Christie's Catalogue of the effects of F&wblank; P&wblank;, Esq. 1794, p. 6, lot 50: “Chain-harness for two horses, and phill-harness for two horses.” Steevens. Phil or fill is the term in all the midland counties,—thill, would not be understood. Harris.

Note return to page 108 7More guarded &lblank;] i. e. more ornamented. So, in Soliman and Perseda, 1599: “Piston. But is there no reward for my false dice? “Erastus. Yes, sir, a guarded suit from top to toe.” Again, in Albumazar, 1615: “&lblank; turn my ploughboy Dick to two guarded footmen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 109 8Well; if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book.—] Table is the palm of the hand extended. Launcelot congratulates himself upon his dexterity and good fortune, and, in the height of his rapture, inspects his hand, and congratulates himself upon the felicities in his table. The act of expanding his hand puts him in mind of the action in which the palm is shown, by raising it to lay it on the book, in judicial attestations. “Well,” says he, “if any man in Italy have a fairer table, that doth offer to swear upon a book.”—Here he stops with an abruptness very common, and proceeds to particulars. Johnson. [Subnote: “Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table.” “Table,” says Dr. Johnson, “is the palm of the hand extended;” but he has given no instance of this usage of the word. The reader may accept of the following from Middleton's Any Thing for a Quiet Life, where the Lord Beauford is courting the citizen's wife. “Beau. Fairest one, I have skill in palmestry. Wife. Good my Lord, what do you find there? Beau. In good earnest I do find written here, all my good fortune lies in your hand. Wife. You keep a very bad house then, you may see by the smallness of the table.”] Dr. Johnson's explanation thus far appears to me perfectly just. In support of it, it should be remembered, that which is frequently used by our author and his contemporaries, for the personal pronoun, who. It is still so used in our Liturgy. In the Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Quickly addresses Fenton in the same language as is here used by Launcelot:—“I'll be sworn on a book she loves you:” a vulgarism that is now superseded by another of the same import—“I'll take my bible oath of it.” Malone. Without examining the expositions of this passage, given by the three learned annotators, [Mr. T. Dr. W. and Dr. J.] I shall briefly set down what appears to me to be the whole meaning of it. Launcelot, applauding himself for his success with Bassanio, and looking into the palm of his hand, which by fortune-tellers is called the table, breaks out into the following reflection: “Well; if any man in Italy have a fairer table; which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune”—i. e. a table, which doth (not only promise, but) offer to swear (and to swear upon a book too) that I shall have good fortune.—(He omits the conclusion of the sentence which might have been) I am much mistaken; or, I'll be hanged, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 110 9I shall have good fortune;] The whole difficulty of this passage (concerning which there is a great difference of opinion among the commentators,) arose, as I conceive, from a word being omitted by the compositor or transcriber. I am persuaded the author wrote—I shall have no good fortune. These words are not, I believe, connected with what goes before, but with what follows; and begin a new sentence. Shakspeare, I think, meant, that Launcelot, after this abrupt speech—Well; if any man that offers to swear upon a book, has a fairer table than mine—[I am much mistaken:] should proceed in the same manner in which he began:—I shall have no good fortune; go to; here's a simple line of life! &c. So, before: “I cannot get a service, no;—I have ne'er a tongue in my head.” And afterwards: “Alas! fifteen wives is nothing.” The Nurse, in Romeo and Juliet, expresses herself exactly in the same style: “Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man; Romeo? no, not he;—he is not the flower of courtesy,” &c. So, also, in King Henry IV.: “Here's no fine villainy!” Again, more appositely, in the anonymous play of King Henry V.: “Ha! me have no good luck.” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “We are simple men; we do not know what's brought about under the profession of fortune-telling.” Almost every passage in these plays, in which the sense is abruptly broken off, as I have more than once observed, has been corrupted. It is not without some reluctance that I have excluded this emendation from a place in the text. Had it been proposed by any former editor or commentator, I should certainly have adopted it; being convinced that it is just. But the danger of innovation is so great, and partiality to our own conceptions so delusive, that it becomes every editor to distrust his own emendations; and I am particularly inclined to do so in the present instance, in which I happen to differ from that most respectable and judicious critick, whose name is subjoined to the preceding note. According to his idea, the mark of an abrupt sentence should not be after the word book, but fortune. Malone.

Note return to page 111 1&lblank; in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed;] A cant phrase to signify the danger of marrying.—A certain French writer uses the same kind of figure: “O mon Ami, j'aimerois mieux être tombée sur la point d'un Oreiller, & m'être rompû le Cou &lblank;.” Warburton.

Note return to page 112 *So quarto R.; quarto H. and first folio omit of an eye.

Note return to page 113 2Something too liberal;] Liberal I have already shown to be mean, gross, coarse, licentious. Johnson. So, in Othello: “Is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?” Steevens.

Note return to page 114 3&lblank; allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit;] So, in Hamlet: “Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper “Sprinkle cool patience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 115 4&lblank; hood mine eyes &lblank;] Alluding to the manner of covering a hawk's eyes. So, in The Tragedy of Crœsus, 1604: “And like a hooded hawk,” &c. Steevens. It should be remembered that in Shakspeare's time they wore their hats on during the time of dinner. Malone.

Note return to page 116 5&lblank; sad ostent &lblank;] Grave appearance; show of staid and serious behaviour. Johnson. Ostent is a word very commonly used for show among the old dramatick writers. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; you in those times “Did not affect ostent.” Again, in Chapman's translation of Homer, edit. 1598, b. vi.: “&lblank; did bloodie vapours raine “For sad ostent,” &c. Steevens. The word occurs soon afterwards in the present play, Sc. VIII. of this act: “Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts, “To courtship and such fair ostents of love.” Boswell.

Note return to page 117 6&lblank; your bearing.] Bearing is carriage, deportment. So, in Twelfth-Night: “Take and give back affairs, and their despatch, “With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 118 *Quartos, in talk.

Note return to page 119 7&lblank; and get thee,] I suspect that the waggish Launcelot designed this for a broken sentence—“and get thee”—implying, get thee with child. Mr. Malone, however, supposes him to mean only—carry thee away from thy father's house. Steevens. I should not have attempted to explain so easy a passage, if the ignorant editor of the second folio, thinking probably that the word get must necessarily mean beget, had not altered the text, and substituted did in the place of do, the reading of all the old and authentick editions; in which he has been copied by every subsequent editor. Launcelot is not talking about Jessica's father, but about her future husband. I am aware that, in a subsequent scene, he says to Jessica: “Marry, you may partly hope your father got you not;” but he is now on another subject. Malone. From the general censure expressed in the preceding note I take leave to exempt Mr. Reed; who, by following the first folio, was no sharer in the inexpiable guilt of the second. Steevens. Notwithstanding Mr. Malone charges the editor of the second folio so strongly with ignorance, I have no doubt but that did is the true reading, as it is clearly better sense than that which he has adopted. Launcelot does not mean to foretell the fate of Jessica, but judges, from her lovely disposition, that she must have been begotten by a christian, not by such a brute as Shylock: a christian might marry her without playing the knave, though he could not beget her. M. Mason. A christian may be said to play the knave if he should steal the Jew's daughter, as Lorenzo himself expresses it, Sc. VI.: “When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, “I'll watch as long for you then.”— In answer to Mr. Steevens, I have to state that I printed this play in 1784, and that Mr. Reed's edition did not appear till 1785. I may add that I communicated to that gentleman this very correction. Malone.

Note return to page 120 8&lblank; torch-bearers.] See the note in Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. IV.: “We have not spoke us yet,” &c. i. e. we have not yet bespoke us, &c. Thus the old copies. It may, however, mean,— we have not as yet consulted on the subject of torch-bearers. Mr. Pope reads—“spoke as yet.” Steevens. So a few speeches afterwards: “I am provided of a torch-bearer.” Boswell.

Note return to page 121 9&lblank; to break up this,] To break up was a term in carving: So, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act III. Sc. I.: “Boyet, you can carve; “Break up this capon.” See the note on that passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 122 1I am bid forth &lblank;] I am invited. To bid in old language meant to pray. Malone. That bid was used for invitation, may be seen in St. Luke's Gospel, ch. xiv. 24: “&lblank; none of those which were bidden shall taste of my supper.” Harris.

Note return to page 123 2&lblank; to feed upon The prodigal Christian.] Shylock forgets his resolution. In a former scene he declares he will neither eat, drink, nor pray with Christians. Of this circumstance the poet was aware, and meant only to heighten the malignity of the character, by making him depart from his most settled resolve, for the prosecution of his revenge. Steevens.

Note return to page 124 3&lblank; then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last,] “Black-Monday is Easter-Monday, and was so called on this occasion: in the 34th of Edward III. (1360) the 14th of April, and the morrow after Easter-day, King Edward, with his host, lay before the city of Paris: which day was full dark of mist and hail, and so bitter cold, that many men died on their horses' backs with the cold. Wherefore, unto this day, it hath been called the Blacke-Monday.” Stowe, p. 264–6. Grey. It appears from a passage in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592, that some superstitious belief was annexed to the accident of bleeding at the nose: “As he stood gazing, his nose on a sudden bled, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his.” Steevens. Again, in The Dutchess of Malfy, 1640, Act I. Sc. II.: “How superstitiously we mind our evils? “The throwing downe salt, or crossing of a hare, “Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, “Or singing of a creket, are of power “To daunt whole man in us.” Again, Act I. Sc. III.: “My nose bleeds. One that was superstitious would count this ominous, when it merely comes by chance.” Reed.

Note return to page 125 *So quarto R.; first folio, and quarto H. squealing.

Note return to page 126 4Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,] “Primâ nocte domum claude; neque in vias “Sub cantu querulæ despice tibiæ.” Hor. lib. iii. od. vii. Malone. It appears from hence, that the fifes, in Shakspeare's time, were formed differently from those now in use, which are straight, not wry-necked. M. Mason. The fife does not mean the instrument, but the person who played on it. So, in Barnaby Rich's Aphorismes, at the end of his Irish Hubbub, 1618: “A fife is a wry-neckt musician, for he always looks away from his instrument.” Boswell.

Note return to page 127 5There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye.] It's worth a Jew's eye, is a proverbial phrase. Whalley.

Note return to page 128 6The patch is kind enough:] Any low fellow that wore or was likely to wear a patched coat was thus termed. So, in A Woman Will Have Her Will (written in 1598,) the speaker addressing a post who had brought him letters: “Get home, you patch; cannot you suffer gentlemen to jest with you?” Malone.

Note return to page 129 *First folio, but.

Note return to page 130 7Shut doors &lblank;] Doors is here used as a dissyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 131 *First folio, a stand.

Note return to page 132 8Desir'd us to make stand.] Desir'd us stand, in ancient elliptical language, signifies—desired us to stand. The words— to make, are an evident interpolation, and consequently spoil the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 133 9O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly &lblank;] Lovers have in poetry been always called turtles or doves, which in lower language may be pigeons. Johnson. Thus, Chapman, in his version of Homer's Catalogue of Ships, Iliad the second: “&lblank; Thisbe, that for pigeons doth surpasse—;” Mr. Pope, in more elegant language: “&lblank; Thisbe, fam'd for silver doves—:” Steevens. Venus' pigeons, I apprehend, mean the doves by which her chariot is drawn: Venus drawn by doves is much more prompt to seal new bonds, &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 134 1&lblank; a younker,] All the old copies read—a younger. But Rowe's emendation may be justified by Falstaff's question in The First Part of King Henry IV.:—“I'll not pay a denier. What will you make a younker of me?” Steevens. “How like a younker, or a prodigal, “The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, &c.” Mr. Gray (dropping the particularity of allusion to the parable of the prodigal,) seems to have caught from this passage the imagery of the following: “Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, “While proudly riding o'er the azure realm “In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; “Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; “Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, “That hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening-prey.” The grim-repose, however, was suggested by Thomson's— “&lblank; deep fermenting tempest brew'd “In the grim evening sky.” Henley.

Note return to page 135 2&lblank; scarfed bark &lblank;] i. e. the vessel decorated with flags. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great burden.” Steevens.

Note return to page 136 3&lblank; embraced by the strumpet wind!] So, in Othello: “The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets.” Malone.

Note return to page 137 *First folio, a.

Note return to page 138 4&lblank; doth she return;] Surely the bark ought to be of the masculine gender, otherwise the allusion wants somewhat of propriety. This indiscriminate use of the personal for the neuter, at least obscures the passage. A ship, however, is commonly spoken of in the feminine gender. Steevens.

Note return to page 139 5With over-weather'd ribs,] Thus both the quartos. The folio has over-wither'd. Malone.

Note return to page 140 6I'll watch as long for you then.—Approach;] Read, with a slight variation from Sir T. Hanmer: “I'll watch as long for you. Come then, approach.” Ritson.

Note return to page 141 *First folio, you are.

Note return to page 142 *First folio, and quarto H. gentle.

Note return to page 143 7Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.] A jest arising from the ambiguity of Gentile, which signifies both a Heathen, and one well born. Johnson. So, at the conclusion of the first part of Jeronimo, &c. 1605: “&lblank; So, good night kind gentles, “For I hope there's never a Jew among you all.” Again, in Swetham Arraign'd, 1620: “Joseph the Jew was a better Gentile far.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson rightly explains this. There is an old book by one Ellis, entitled: “The Gentile Sinner, or England's brave Gentleman.” Farmer. To understand Gratiano's oath, it should be recollected that he is in a masqued habit, to which it is probable that formerly, as at present, a large cape or hood was affixed. Malone. Gratiano alludes to the practice of friars, who frequently swore by this part of their habit. Steevens.

Note return to page 144 *First folio omits many.

Note return to page 145 8&lblank; as blunt;] That is, as gross as the dull metal. Johnson.

Note return to page 146 9To rib &lblank;] i. e. inclose, as the ribs inclose the viscera. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; ribb'd and paled in “With rocks unsealeable, and roaring waters.” Steevens.

Note return to page 147 1&lblank; undervalued to try'd gold?] If compared with try'd gold, so in p. 17: “Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued “To Cato's daughter.” Boswell.

Note return to page 148 *First folio and quartos, stamp't.

Note return to page 149 2&lblank; insculp'd upon;] To insculp is to engrave. So, in a comedy called A New Wonder, a Woman Never Vex'd, 1632: “&lblank; in golden text “Shall be insculp'd—” Steevens. The meaning is, that the figure of the angel is raised or embossed on the coin, not engraved on it. Tutet.

Note return to page 150 3Gilded tombs do worms infold.] In all the old editions this line is written thus: “Gilded timber do worms infold.” From which Mr. Rowe and all the following editors have made: “Gilded wood may worms infold.” A line not bad in itself, but not so applicable to the occasion as that which, I believe, Shakspeare wrote: “Gilded tombs do worms infold.” A tomb is the proper repository of a death's-head. Johnson. The thought might have been suggested by Sidney's Arcadia, book i.: “But gold can guild a rotten piece of wood.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's emendation is supported by Shakspeare's 101st Sonnet: “&lblank; it lies in thee “To make thee much out-live a gilded tomb.” Malone.

Note return to page 151 4Your answer had not been inscrol'd:] Since there is an answer inscrol'd or written in every casket, I believe for your we should read—this. When the words were written yr and ys, the mistake was easy. Johnson. Your answer is the answer you have got; namely, “Fare you well,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 152 5&lblank; choose me so.] The old quarto editions of 1600 have no distribution of Acts, but proceed from the beginning to the end in an unbroken tenour. This play, therefore, having been probably divided without authority by the publishers of the first folio, lies open to a new regulation, if any more commodious division can be proposed. The story is itself so wildly incredible, and the changes of the scene so frequent and capricious, that the probability of action does not deserve much care; yet it may be proper to observe, that, by concluding the Second Act here, time is given for Bassanio's passage to Belmont. Johnson.

Note return to page 153 6I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday:] i. e. I conversed. So, in King John: “Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the fourth book of the Odyssey: “The morning shall yield time to you and me, “To do what fits, and reason mutually.” Steevens. The Italian ragionare is used in the same sense. M. Mason.

Note return to page 154 7Slubber not &lblank;] To slubber is to do any thing carelessly, imperfectly. So, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; they slubber'd thee over so negligently.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money: “I am as haste ordain'd me, a thing slubber'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 8&lblank; your mind of love:] So, all the copies, but I suspect some corruption. Johnson. This imaginary corruption is removed by only putting a comma after mind. Langton. Of love, is an adjuration sometimes used by Shakspeare. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. VII.: “Quick.—desires you to send her your little page, of all loves:” i. e. she desires you to send him by all means. Your mind of love may, however, in this instance, mean—your loving mind. So, in The Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: A mind of treason is a treasonable mind. “Those that speak freely, have no mind of treason.” Steevens. If the phrase is to be understood in the former sense, there should be a comma after mind, as Mr. Langton and Mr. Heath have observed. Malone.

Note return to page 156 9And even there, his eye being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, &c.] So curious an observer of nature was our author, and so minutely had he traced the operation of the passions, that many passages of his works might furnish hints to painters. It is indeed surprizing that they do not study his plays with this view. In the passage before us, we have the outline of a beautiful picture. Malone.

Note return to page 157 1&lblank; embraced heaviness &lblank;] The heaviness which he indulges, and is fond of. Edwards. When I thought the passage corrupted, it seemed to me not improbable that Shakspeare had written—entranced heaviness, musing, abstracted, moping melancholy. But I know not why any great efforts should be made to change a word which has no incommodious or unusual sense. We say of a man now, that he hugs his sorrows, and why might not Antonio embrace heaviness? Johnson. So, in Much Ado about Nothing, Sc. I.: “You embrace your charge too willingly.” Again, in this play of The Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. II.: “&lblank; doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 158 2&lblank; draw the curtain &lblank;] i. e. draw it open. So, in an old stage-direction in King Henry VIII.: “The king draws the curtain, and sits reading pensively.” Steevens.

Note return to page 159 3And so have I address'd me:] To address is to prepare. The meaning is, I have prepared myself by the same ceremonies. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “Do you think he will make no deed of all this, that so seriously he doth address himself unto?” Steevens. I believe we should read: “And so have I. Address me, Fortune, now, “To my heart's hope!” So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III. Scene the last, Falstaff says: “&lblank; I will then address me to my appointment.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 160 4&lblank; That many may be meant By the fool multitude,] i. e. By that many may be meant the foolish multitude, &c. The fourth folio first introduced a phraseology more agreeable to our ears at present,—“Of the fool multitude,”—which has been adopted by all the subsequent editors;—but change merely for the sake of elegance is always dangerous. Many modes of speech were familiar in Shakspeare's age, that are now no longer used. So, in Plutarch's Life of Cæsar, as translated by North, 1575: “&lblank; he answered, that these fat long-heared men made him not affrayed, but the lean and whitely-faced fellows; meaning that by Brutus and Cassius.” i. e. meaning by that, &c. Again, in Sir Thomas More's Life of Edward the Fifth;—Holinshed, p. 1374: “&lblank; that meant he by the lordes of the queenes kindred that were taken before,” i. e. by that he meant the lords, &c. Again, ibidem, p. 1371: “My Lord, quoth Lord Hastings, on my life, never doubt you; for while one man is there,—never can there be, &c. This meant he by Catesby, which was of his near secrete counsaile,” i. e. by this he meant Catesby, &c. Again, Puttenham in his Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 157, after citing some enigmatical verses, adds, “&lblank; the good old gentleman would tell us that were children, how it was meant by a furr'd glove,” i. e. a furr'd glove was meant by it,—i. e. by the enigma. Again, ibidem, p. 161: “&lblank; Any simple judgement might easily perceive by whom it was meant, that is, by lady Elizabeth, Queene of England.” Malone.

Note return to page 161 5&lblank; in the force &lblank;] i. e. the power. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; in the force of his will.” Steevens.

Note return to page 162 6&lblank; jump &lblank;] i. e. agree with. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; and in some sort it jumps with my humour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 163 *First folio, pleasantry.

Note return to page 164 7How much low peasantry would then be glean'd From the true seed of honour?] The meaning is,—How much meanness would be found among the great, and how much greatness among the mean. But since men are always said to glean corn though they may pick chaff, the sentence had been more agreeable to the common manner of speech if it had been written thus: How much low peasantry would then be pick'd From the true seed of honour? how much honour Glean'd from the chaff? Johnson.

Note return to page 165 8&lblank; how much honour Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnish'd?] This confusion and mixture of the metaphors, makes me think that Shakspeare wrote: To be new vanned— i. e. winnow'd, purged, from the French word, vanner; which is derived from the Latin vannus, ventilabrum, the fan used for winnowing the chaff from the corn. This alteration restores the metaphor to its integrity: and our poet frequently uses the same thought. So, in The Second Part of Henry IV.: “We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind, “That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff.” Warburton. Shakspeare is perpetually violating the integrity of his metaphors, and the emendation proposed seems to me to be as faulty as unnecessary; for what is already selected from the chaff needs not be new vanned. I wonder Dr. Warburton did not think of changing the word ruin into rowing, which in some counties of England, is used to signify the second and inferior crop of grass which is cut in autumn. So, in one of our old pieces, of which I forgot to set down the name, when I transcribed the following passage: “&lblank; when we had taken the first crop, you might have then been bold to eat the rowens.” The word occurs, however, both in the notes on Tusser, and in Mortimer. Steevens. Steevens justly observes, that honour when picked from the chaff, could not require to be new vanned; but honour, mixed with the chaff and ruin of the times, might require to be new varnished. M. Mason.

Note return to page 166 9I will assume desert;—Give me a key for this,] The words —for this, which (as Mr. Ritson observes,) destroy the measure, should be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 167 1&lblank; I wis,] I know. Wissen, German. So, in King Henry VI.: “I wis your grandame had no worser match.” Again, in the comedy of King Cambyses: “Yea, I wis, shall you, and that with all speed.” Sidney, Ascham, and Waller, use the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 168 2Take what wife you will to bed,] Perhaps the poet had forgotten that he who missed Portia was never to marry any woman. Johnson.

Note return to page 169 3So begone, sir,] Sir, which is not in the old copies, was supplied by the editor of the second folio, for the sake of the metre. Malone. Unnecessarily. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 170 4&lblank; to bear my wroth.] The old editions read—“to bear my wroath.” Wroath is used in some of the old books for misfortune; and is often spelt like ruth, which at present signifies only pity, or sorrow for the miseries of another. Caxton's Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye, &c. 1471, has frequent instances of wroth. Thus, also, in Chapman's version of the 22nd Iliad: “&lblank; born to all the wroth, “Of woe and labour.” The modern editors read—my wrath. Steevens.

Note return to page 171 5Por. Here; what would my lord?] Would not this speech to the servant be more proper in the mouth of Nerissa? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 172 6&lblank; regreets;] i. e. salutations. So, in K. John, Act III. Sc. I.: “Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 173 7&lblank; high-day wit &lblank;] So, in the Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; he speaks holiday.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 8&lblank; knapp'd ginger;] To knap is to break short. The word occurs in The Common Prayer: “He knappeth the spear in sunder.” Steevens.

Note return to page 175 9&lblank; my prayer;] i. e. the prayer or wish, which you have just now uttered, and which I devoutly join in by saying amen to it. Mr. Theobald and Dr. Warburton unnecessarily, I think, read— thy prayer. Malone. The people pray as well as the priest, though the latter only pronounces the words, which the people make their own by saying Amen to them. It is, after this, needless to add, that the Devil (in the shape of a Jew) could not cross Salarino's prayer, which, as far as it was singly his, was already ended. Heath.

Note return to page 176 *Quarto H. my blood.

Note return to page 177 1&lblank; a bankrupt, a prodigal,] This is spoke of Antonio. But why a prodigal? his friend Bassanio indeed had been too liberal; and with this name the Jew honours him when he is going to sup with him: “&lblank; I'll go in hate to feed upon “The prodigal Christian &lblank;.” But Antonio was a plain, reserved parsimonious merchant; be assured, therefore, we should read—a bankrupt for a prodigal, i. e. he is become bankrupt by supplying the extravagancies of his friend Bassanio. Warburton. There is no need of alteration. There could be, in Shylock's opinion, no prodigality more culpable than such liberality as that by which a man exposes himself to ruin for his friend. Johnson. His lending money without interest, “for a christian courtesy,” was likewise a reason for the Jew to call Antonio prodigal. Edwards.

Note return to page 178 *First folio, the reason.

Note return to page 179 2&lblank; if you prick us, do we not bleed?] Are not Jews made of the same materials as Christians? says Shylock; thus in Plutarch's Life of Cæsar, p. 140, 4to. V. IV.: “Cæsar does not consider his subjects are mortal, and bleed when they are pricked.” “&gro;&gru;&grd;&gre; &gra;&grp;&gro; &grt;&grw;&grn; &grt;&grr;&gra;&gru;&grm;&gra;&grt;&grw;&grn; &grl;&gro;&grg;&gri;&grs;&gre;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grK;&gra;&gri;&grs;&gra;&grr; &gro;&grt;&gri; &grq;&grn;&grh;&grt;&gra;&grn; &grm;&gre;&grn; &gra;&grr;&grk;&gre;&gri;.” S. W.

Note return to page 180 *First folio, how much is.

Note return to page 181 *Old copies, heere.

Note return to page 182 3&lblank; it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor:] A turquoise is a precious stone found in the veins of the mountains on the confines of Persia to the east, subject to the Tartars. As Shylock has been married long enough to have a daughter grown up, it is plain he did not value this turquoise on account of the money for which he might hope to sell it, but merely in respect of the imaginary virtues formerly ascribed to the stone. It was said of the Turkey-stone, that it faded or brightened in its colour, as the health of the wearer increased or grew less. To this Ben Jonson refers, in his Sejanus: “And true as Turkise in my dear lord's ring, “Look well, or will with him.” Again, in The Muses Elysium, by Drayton: “The turkesse, which who haps to wear,   “Is often kept from peril.” Again, Edward Fenton, in Secrete Wonders of Nature, bl. l. 4to. 1569: “The Turkeys doth move when there is any perill prepared to him that weareth it.” P. 51, b. But Leah (if we may believe Thomas Nicols, sometimes of Jesus College in Cambridge, in his Lapidary, &c.) might have presented Shylock with his turquoise for a better reason; as this stone “is likewise said to take away all enmity, and to reconcile man and wife.” Other superstitious qualities are imputed to it, all of which were either monitory or preservative to the wearer. The same quality was supposed to be resident in coral. So, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “You may say jet will take up a straw, amber will make one fat, “Coral will look pale when you be sick, and chrystal will stanch blood.” Thus, Holinshed, speaking of the death of King John: “And when the King suspected them (the pears) to be poisoned indeed, by reason that such precious stones as he had about him cast forth a certain sweat as it were bewraeing the poison,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 183 4&lblank; Beshrew your eyes, They have o'er-look'd me.] An anonymous correspondent in a newspaper suggests that o'erlooked may be a term in witchcraft, in which sense it is used by Glanvilli Sadducismus Triumphatus, p. 95. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act V. Sc. V: “Vile worm, thou wast o'er-look'd even from thy birth.” Malone.

Note return to page 184 5And so all yours:] The latter word is here used as a dissyllable. In the next line but one below, where the same word occurs twice, our author, with his usual licence, employs one as a word of two syllables, and the other as a monosyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 185 6And so, though yours, not yours.—Prove it so,] It may be more gramatically read: And so though yours I'm not yours. Johnson.

Note return to page 186 7Let fortune go to hell for it,—not I.] The meaning is, “If the worst I fear should happen, and it should prove in the event, that I, who am justly yours by the free donation I have made you of myself, should yet not be yours in consequence of an unlucky choice, let fortune go to hell for robbing you of your just due, not I for violating my oath.” Heath.

Note return to page 187 8&lblank; to peize the time;] Thus the old copies. To peize is from peser, Fr. So, in King Richard III.: “Lest leaden slumber peize me down to-morrow.” To peize the time, therefore, is to retard it by hanging weights upon it. The modern editors read, without authority,—piece. Steevens. To peize, is to weigh, or balance; and figuratively, to keep in suspense, to delay. So, in Sir P. Sydney's Apology for Poetry:—“not speaking words as they changeably fall from the mouth, but peyzing each sillable.” Henley.

Note return to page 188 9With no less presence,] With the same dignity of mien. Johnson.

Note return to page 189 1To the sea-monster:] See Ovid. Metamorph. lib. xi. ver. 199, et seqq. Shakspeare however, I believe, had read an account of this adventure in The Destruction of Troy:—“Laomedon cast his eyes all bewept on him, [Hercules] and was all abashed to see his greatness and his beauty.” See b. i. p. 221, 4th edit. 1617. Malone.

Note return to page 190 2Live thou, I live:—With much much more, dismay I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.] One of the quartos [Roberts's] reads: “Live then, I live with much more dismay “To view the fight, than,” &c. The folio, 1623, thus: “Live thou, I live with much more dismay “I view the fight, than,” &c. Heyes's quarto gives the present reading Johnson.

Note return to page 191 3&lblank; fancy &lblank;] i. e. Love. So, in a Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Than sighs and tears, poor fancy's followers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 192 4&lblank; Reply.] The words, reply, reply, were in all the late editions, except Sir T. Hanmer's, put as a verse in the song; but in all the old copies stand as a marginal direction. Johnson. I think Johnson mistaken here. “Replie, Replie,” is in the old copies placed at the side of the other lines; but there is nothing else to point it out as a marginal direction, and I cannot discover its use, if so understood. Mr. Capell supposes the song to be sung by two voices, the first of which calls upon the other to reply to the questions put. Boswell.

Note return to page 193 5So may the outward shows &lblank;] He begins abruptly; the first part of the argument has passed in his mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 194 6&lblank; gracious voice,] Pleasing; winning favour. Johnson.

Note return to page 195 7&lblank; approve it &lblank;] i. e. justify it. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I am full sorry “That he approves the common liar, fame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 196 8There is no vice &lblank;] The old copies read—voice. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 197 9&lblank; valour's excrement,] i. e. what a little higher is called the beard of Hercules. So, “pedler's excrement,” in the Winter's Tale. Malone.

Note return to page 198 1&lblank; by the weight;] That is, artificial beauty is purchased so; as, false hair, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 199 2Making them lightest that wear most of it:] Lightest is here used in a wanton sense. So, afterwards: “Let me be light, but let me not seem light.” Malone.

Note return to page 200 3&lblank; crisped &lblank;] i. e. curled. So, in The Philosopher's Satires, by Robert Anton: “Her face as beauteous as the crisped morn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 201 4&lblank; in the sepulchre.] See a note on Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. III. Shakspeare has likewise satirized this yet prevailing fashion in Love's Labour's Lost. Steevens. The prevalence of this fashion in Shakspeare's time is evinced by the following passage in an old pamphlet entitled, 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 bestow 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 attire-makers within these fortie yeares 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 yeares would have drawne the passers-by to stand and gaze, and to wonder at them.” Malone.

Note return to page 202 5&lblank; The guiled shore &lblank;] i. e. the treacherous shore. So, in The Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Or only a fair show, to guile his mischiefs.” I should not have thought the word wanted explanation, but that some of our modern editors have rejected it, and read gilded. Guiled is the reading of all the ancient copies. Shakspeare in this instance, as in many others, confounds the participles. Guiled stands for guiling. Steevens.

Note return to page 203 6&lblank; Indian beauty;] Sir T. Hanmer reads: &lblank; Indian dowdy. Johnson.

Note return to page 204 *So quarto R.; first folio, and quarto, H. therefore then.

Note return to page 205 7&lblank; thou pale and common drudge 'Tween man and man:] So, in Chapman's Hymnus in Noctern, 4to. 1594: “To whom pale day (with whoredom soked quite) “Is but a drudge.” Steevens.

Note return to page 206 8Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,] The old copies read—paleness. Steevens. Bassanio is displeased at the golden casket for its gaudiness, and the silver one for its paleness; but what! is he charmed with the leaden one for having the very same quality that displeased him in the silver? The poet certainly wrote: “Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence:” This characterizes the lead from the silver, which paleness does not, they being both pale. Besides, there is a beauty in the antithesis between plainness and eloquence; between paleness and eloquence none. So it is said before of the leaden casket: “This third, dull lead, with warning all is blunt.” Warburton. It may be that Dr. Warburton has altered the wrong word, if any alteration be necessary. I would rather give the character of silver, “&lblank; Thou stale, and common drudge “'Tween man and man.”— The paleness of lead is for ever alluded to. “Diane declining, pale as any ledde,” Says Stephen Hawes. In Fairfax's Tasso, we have— “The lord Tancredie, pale with rage as lead,” Again, Sackville, in his Legend of the Duke of Buckingham: “Now pale as lead, now cold as any stone.” And in the old ballad of the King and the Beggar: “&lblank; She blushed scarlet red, “Then straight again, as pale as lead.” As to the antithesis, Shakspeare has already made it in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: When (says Theseus) I have seen great clerks look pale, “I read as much, as from the rattling tongue “Of fancy and audacious eloquence.” Farmer. By laying an emphasis on Thy, [Thy paleness moves me, &c.] Dr. W.'s objection is obviated. Though Bassanio might object to silver, that “pale and common drudge,” lead, though pale also, yet not being in daily use, might, in his opinion, deserve a preference. I have therefore great doubts concerning Dr. Warburton's emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 207 9In measure rain thy joy,] The first quarto edition reads: “In measure range thy joy.” The folio, and one of the quartos: “In measure raine thy joy.” I once believ'd Shakspeare meant: In measure rein thy joy. The words rain and rein were not in these times distinguished by regular orthography. There is no difficulty in the present reading, only where the copies vary, some suspicion of error is always raised. Johnson. Having had frequent occasion to make the same observation in the perusal of the first folio, I was once strongly inclined to read rein; but I now think the text is right. It is supported by the following passage in Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; But in short space “It rain'd down fortune show'ring on thy head.” Malone. So, in The Laws of Candy, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; pour not too fast joys on me, “But sprinkle them so gently, I may stand them.” Mr. Tollet is of opinion that rein is the true word, as it better agrees with the context; and more especially on account of the following passage in Coriolanus, which approaches very near to the present reading: “&lblank; being once chaf'd, he cannot “Be rein'd again to temperance.” So, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. Sc. II.: “Rein thy tongue.” Steevens. Lord Lansdowne, in his alteration of this play, has thus exhibited the present passage: “In measure pour thy joy.” Boswell.

Note return to page 208 1What find I here?] The latter word is here employed as a dissyllable. Malone. Some monosyllable appears to have been omitted. There is no example of—here, used as a dissyllable; and even with such assistance, the verse, to the ear at least, would be defective. Perhaps our author design'd Portia to say: “For fear I surfeit me.” Steevens. Mr. Capell reads “Ha! what find I here?” Boswell.

Note return to page 209 2Fair Portia's counterfeit?] Counterfeit, which is at present used only in a bad sense, anciently signified a likeness, a resemblance, without comprehending any idea of fraud. So, in The Wit of a Woman, 1604: “I will see if I can agree with this stranger, for the drawing of my daughter's counterfeit.” Again, (as Mr. M. Mason observes,) Hamlet calls the pictures he shows to his mother— “The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 210 3Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnish'd:] Perhaps it might be: And leave himself unfurnish'd. Johnson If that in the text be the right reading, unfurnished must mean “unfurnished with a companion, or fellow.” I am confirmed in this explanation, by the following passage in Fletcher's Lover's Progress, where Alcidon says to Clarangé, on delivering Lidian's challenge, which Clarangé accepts— “&lblank; you are a noble gentleman, “Will't please you bring a friend; we are two of us, “And pity, either of us should be unfurnish'd.” M. Mason. Dr. Johnson's emendation would altogether subvert the poet's meaning. If the artist, in painting one of Portia's eyes, should lose both his own, that eye which he had painted, must necessarily be left unfurnished, or destitute of its fellow. Henley. “And leave itself unfurnish'd:” i. e. and leave itself incomplete; unaccompanied with the other usual component parts of a portrait, viz. another eye, &c. The various features of the face our author seems to have considered as the furniture of a picture. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; he was furnish'd like a huntsman;” i. e. had all the appendages belonging to a huntsman. Malone. The hint for this passage appears to have been taken from Greene's History of Faire Bellora; afterwards published under the title of A Paire of Turtle Doves, or the Tragicall History of Bellora and Fidelio, bl. l.: “If Apelles had beene tasked to have drawne her counterfeit, her two bright-burning lampes would have so dazled his quicke-seeing sences, that quite dispairing to expresse with his cunning pensill so admirable a worke of nature, he had been inforced to have staid his hand, and left this earthly Venus unfinished.” A preceding passage in Bassanio's speech might have been suggested by the same novel: “A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men:” “What are our curled and crisped lockes, but snares and nets to catch and entangle the hearts of gazers,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 211 4&lblank; this shadow Doth limp behind the substance.] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; she will outstrip all praise, “And make it halt behind her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 212 5&lblank; peals of praise &lblank;] The second quarto [Roberts's] reads —pearles of praise. Johnson. This reading may be the true one. So, in Whetstone's Arbour of Virtue, 1576: The pearles of praise that deck a noble name.” Again, in R. C.'s verses in praise of the same author's Rock of Regard: “But that that bears the pearle of praise away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 213 *So quartos; first folio, my.

Note return to page 214 6Is sum of something;] We should read—some of something, i. e. only a piece, or part only of an imperfect account; which she explains in the following line. Warburton. Thus one of the quartos, [quarto, R.] The folio reads: “Is sum of nothing.”— The purport of the reading in the text seems to be this: “&lblank; the full sum of me—” “Is sum of something;” i. e. is not entirely ideal, but amounts to as much as can be found in—an unlesson'd girl, &c. Steevens. I should prefer the reading of the folio, as it is Portia's intention, in this speech, to undervalue herself. M. Mason.

Note return to page 215 7But she may learn;] The latter word is here used as a dissyllable. Malone. Till the reader has reconciled his ear to this dissyllabical pronunciation of the word learn, I beg his acceptance of—and, a harmless monosyllable which I have ventured to introduce for the sake of obvious metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 216 8&lblank; being blent together,] i. e. blended. Steevens.

Note return to page 217 9&lblank; you can wish none from me:] That is, none away from me; none that I shall lose, if you gain it. Johnson.

Note return to page 218 1&lblank; for intermission &lblank;] Intermission is pause, intervening time, delay. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; gentle heaven “Cut short all intermission!” Steevens.

Note return to page 219 2We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.] So, in Abraham Fleming's Rythme Decasyllabicall, upon this last luckie Voyage of worthie Capteine Frobisher, 1577: “The golden fleece (like Jason) hath he got, “And rich'd return'd, saunce losse or luckless lot.” Again, in the old play of King Leir, 1605: “I will returne seyz'd of as rich a prize “As Jason, when he wanne the golden fleece.” It appears, from the registers of the Stationer's Company, that we seem to have had a version of Valerius Flaccus in 1565. In this year (whether in verse or prose is unknown,) was entered to J. Purfoote: “The story of Jason, howe he gotte the golden flece, and howe he did begyle Media [Medea,] out of Laten into Englishe, by Nycholas Whyte.” Steevens.

Note return to page 220 3The paper as the body &lblank;] I believe, the author wrote—is the body. The two words are frequently confounded in the old copies. So, in the first quarto edition of this play, Act IV.: “Is dearly bought, as mine,” &c. instead of—is mine. Malone. The expression is somewhat elliptical: “The paper as the body,” means—the paper resembles the body, is as the body. Steevens.

Note return to page 221 *So folio, and quarto, H.; shall, quarto, R.

Note return to page 222 4Should lose a hair.] Hair is here used as a dissyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 223 5&lblank; cheer;] i. e. countenance. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act V. Sc. I.: “That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd, with cheer.” See note on that passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 224 6&lblank; and I,] This inaccuracy, I believe, was our author's. Mr. Pope reads—and me. Malone.

Note return to page 225 *So folio and quarto H.; quarto, R. no.

Note return to page 226 †So quartos; folio, lends.

Note return to page 227 7&lblank; so fond &lblank;] i. e. so foolish. So, in the old comedy of Mother Bombie, 1594, by Lyly: “&lblank; that the youth seeing her fair cheeks, may be enamoured before they hear her fond speech.” Steevens.

Note return to page 228 8&lblank; dull-ey'd fool,] This epithet dull-ey'd is bestowed on melancholy, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre. Steevens.

Note return to page 229 9The duke cannot deny, &c.] As the reason here given seems a little perplex'd, it may be proper to explain it. If, says he, the duke stop the course of law, it will be attended with this inconvenience, that stranger merchants, by whom the wealth and power of this city is supported, will cry out of injustice. For the known stated law being their guide and security, they will never bear to have the current of it stopped on any pretence of equity whatsoever. Warburton.

Note return to page 230 1For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, &c.] i. e. for the denial of those rights to strangers, which render their abode at Venice so commodious and agreeable to them, would much impeach the justice of the state. The consequence would be, that strangers would not reside or carry on traffick here; and the wealth and strength of the state would be diminished. In The Historye of Italye, by W. Thomas, quarto, 1567, there is a section On the libertee of straungers at Venice. Malone.

Note return to page 231 *Quarto R, his.

Note return to page 232 2Whose souls do bear an equal yoke, &c.] The folio, 1623, read—egal, which, I believe, in Shakspeare's time was commonly used for equal. So it was in Chaucer's: “I will presume hym so to dignifie “Yet be not egall.” Prol. to the Remedy of Love. Again, in Gorboduc: “Sith all as one do bear you egall faith.” Steevens.

Note return to page 233 3Of lineaments, of manners, &c.] The wrong pointing has made this fine sentiment nonsense. As implying that friendship could not only make a similitude of manners, but of faces. The true sense is,—lineaments of manners, i. e. form of the manners, which, says the speaker, must needs be proportionate. Warburton. The poet only means to say,—that corresponding proportions of body and mind are necessary for those who spend their time together. So, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “Dol. Why doth the prince love him so then? “Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness,” &c. Every one will allow that the friend of a toper should have a strong head, and the intimate of a sportsman such an athletic constitution as will enable him to acquit himself with reputation in the exercises of the field. The word lineaments was used with great laxity by our ancient writers. In The learned and true Assertion of the Original, Life, &c. of King Arthur, translated from the Latin of John Leland, 1582, it is used for the human frame in general. Speaking of the removal of that prince's bones, —he calls them “Arthur's lineaments three times translated;” and again, “all the lineaments of them remaining in that most stately tomb, saving the shin bones of the king and queen,” &c. Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “Nature hath so curiously performed his charge in the lineaments of his body,” &c. Again, in Chapman's version of the fifth Iliad: “&lblank; took the weariness of fight “From all his nerves and lineaments,—” Again, in the thirteenth Iliad: “&lblank; the course “Of his illustrious lineaments so out of nature bound, “That back nor forward he could stir,—” Again, in the twenty-third Iliad: “&lblank; so overlabour'd were “His goodly lineaments with chase of Hector,” &c. Again, in the twenty-fourth Iliad: “&lblank; Those throes that my deliverers were “Of his unhappy lineaments;—” Steevens.

Note return to page 234 4&lblank; the bosom lover of my lord,] In our author's time this term was applied to those of the same sex who had an esteem for each other. Ben Jonson concludes one of his letters to Dr. Donne, by telling him: “he is his true lover.” So, in Coriolanus: “I tell thee, fellow, “Thy general is my lover.” Many more instances might be added. See our author's Sonnets, passim. Malone.

Note return to page 235 *Quarto R. misery.

Note return to page 236 5&lblank; hear other things.] In former editions: This comes too near the praising of myself; Therefore no more of it; here other things, Lorenzo, I commit, &c. Portia finding the reflections she had made came too near self-praise, begins to chide herself for it; says, She'll say no more of that sort; but call a new subject. The regulation I have made in the text was likewise prescribed by Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 237 6In speed to Padua;] The old copies read—Mantua; and thus all the modern editors implicitly after them. But 'tis evident to any diligent reader, that we must restore, as I have done,— In speed to Padua: for it was there, and not at Mantua, Bellario liv'd. So, afterwards:—“A messenger, with letters from the Doctor, now come from Padua.”—And again: “Came you from Padua, from Bellario?”—And again, “It comes from Padua, from Bellario.”—Besides, Padua, not Mantua, is the place of education for the civil law in Italy. Theobald.

Note return to page 238 7&lblank; with imagin'd speed &lblank;] i. e. with celerity like that of imagination. So, in the Chorus preceding the third Act of King Henry V.: “Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; swift as meditation &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 8Unto the tranect,] Mr. Rowe reads—traject, which was adopted by all the subsequent editors.—Twenty miles from Padua, on the river Brenta there is a dam or sluice, to prevent the water of that river from mixing with that of the marshes of Venice. Here the passage-boat is drawn out of the river, and lifted over the dam by a crane. From hence to Venice the distance is five miles. Perhaps some novel-writer of Shakspeare's time might have called this dam by the name of the tranect. See Du Cange in v. Trana. Malone. The old copies concur in this reading, which appears to be derived from tranare, and was probably a word current in the time of our author, though I can produce no example of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 240 9&lblank; accouter'd &lblank;] So, the earliest quarto, [quarto H.] and the folio. The other quarto [quarto R.]—apparel'd. Malone.

Note return to page 241 1I could not do withal;] I could not help it. See the meaning of this phrase clearly ascertained and fully illustrated by Mr. Gifford, in a note on Jonson's Silent Woman, p. 470. Boswell.

Note return to page 242 2&lblank; bragging Jacks,] Jack, in our author's time, seems to have been a term of contempt. See Much Ado About Nothing, Act I. Sc. I. Malone.

Note return to page 243 3&lblank; therefore, I promise you, I fear you.] I suspect for has been inadvertently omitted; and we should read—I fear for you. Malone. There is not the slightest need of emendation. The disputed phrase is authorized by a passage in King Richard III.: “The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, “And his physicians fear him mightily.” Steevens.

Note return to page 244 4&lblank; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother:] Alluding to the well-known line of a modern Latin poet, Philippe Gualtier, in his poem entitled Alexandreis: “Incidis in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim.” Malone. Originally from the Alexandreis of Philippe Gualtier; but several translations of this adage were obvious to Shakspeare. Among other places, it is found in an ancient poem entitled A Dialogue between Custom and Veritie, concerning the use and abuse of Dauncing and Minstrelsie, bl. l. no date: “While Silla they do seem to shun, “In Charibd they do fall,” &c. Philip Gualtier de Chatillon (afterwards bishop of Megala,) was born towards the latter end of the 12th century. In the fifth book of his heroic Poem, Darius (who escaping from Alexander, fell into the hands of Bessus,) is thus apostrophized: “Nactus equum Darius, rorantia cæde suorum “Retrogrado fugit arva gradu. Quo tendis inertem “Rex periture fugam? nescis, heu! perdite, nescis “Quem fugias, hostes incurris dum fugis hostem: “Incidis in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charibdim. “Bessus, Narzabanes, rerum pars magna tuarum, “Quos inter proceres humili de plebe locasti, “Non veriti temerare fidem, capitisq verendi “Perdere caniciem, spreto moderamine juris, “Proh dolor! in domini conjurant fata clientes.” The author of the line in question (who was unknown to Erasmus) was first ascertained by Galeottus Martius, who died in 1476; (See Menagiana, vol. i. p. 173, edit. 1729,) and we learn from Henricus Gandavensis de Scriptoribus Ecclesiasticis, [i. e. Henry of Gaunt,] that the Alexandreis had been a common school-book. “In scholis Grammaticorum tantæ fuisse dignitatis, ut præ ipso veterum Poetarum lectio negligeretur.” Barthius also, in his notes on Claudian, has words to the same effect. “Et media barbarie non plane ineptus versificator Galterus ab Insula (qui tempore Joannis Saresberiensis, ut ex hujus ad eum epistolis discimus, vixit)—Tam autem postea clarus fuit, ut expulsis quibusvis bonis auctoribus, scholas tenuerit.” Freinsheim, however, in his comment on Quintus Curtius, confesses that he had never seen the work of Gualtier. The corrupt state in which this poem (of which I have not met with the earliest edition,) still appears, is perhaps imputable to frequent transcription, and injudicious attempts at emendation. Every pedagogue through whose hands the MS. passed, seems to have made some ignorant and capricious changes in its text; so that in many places it is as apparently interpolated and corrupted as the ancient copies of Shakspeare. “Galterus (says Hermann in his Conspectus Reipublicæ Literariæ, p. 102,) secutus est Curtium, & sæpe ad verbum expressit, unde ejus cum Curtio collatione, nonnulla ex hoc menda tolli possunt; id quod experiendo didici.” See also, I. G. Vossius de Poet. Lat. p. 74, and Journal des Sçavans pour Avril, 1760. Though Nicholas Grimoald (without mention of his original) had translated a long passage of The Alexandreis into blank verse before the year 1557, (See Surrey's Poems, and Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 63,) it could have been little known in England, as it is not enumerated in Philips's Theatrum, &c. a work understood to be enriched by his uncle Milton's extensive knowledge of modern as well as ancient poetry. Steevens. Nothing is more frequent than this Proverb in our old writers. Thus Ascham, in his Scole-master: “&lblank; If Scylla drowne him not, Charybdis may fortune to swallowe him.” Again, Niccols in his England's Eliza: “To shun Charybdis jaws, they helpless fell “In Scylla's gulf,” &c. I remember it is likewise met with in Lyly's Euphues, Harrington's Ariosto, &c. and Surrey's contemporary in one of his Poems: “From Scylla to Charybdis clives,—from danger unto death.” Farmer.

Note return to page 245 5I shall be saved by my husband,] From St. Paul: “The unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband.” Henley.

Note return to page 246 6It is much, that the Moor should be more, &c.] This reminds us of the quibbling epigram of Milton, which has the same kind of humour to boast of: “Galli ex concubitu gravidam te, Pontia, Mori, “Quis bene moratam, morigeramque neget?” So, in The Fair Maid of the West, 1631: “And for you Moors thus much I mean to say, “I'll see if more I eat the more I may.” Steevens.

Note return to page 247 7Goodly lord,] Surely this should be corrected Good lord, as it is in Theobald's edition. Tyrwhitt. It should be—Good ye Lord! Farmer.

Note return to page 248 8&lblank; how his words are suited!] I believe the meaning is— What a series or suite of words he has independent of meaning; how one word draws on another without relation to the matter. Johnson. I cannot think either that the word suited is derived from the word suite, as Johnson supposes, as that, I believe, was introduced into our language long since the time of Shakspeare; or that Launcelot's words were independent of meaning. Lorenzo expresses his surprise that a fool should apply them so properly. So Jaques says to the Duke in As You Like It: “&lblank; I met a fool “That laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, “And rail'd at Lady Fortune in good terms, “In good set terms.” That is, in words well suited. M. Mason. Suited means suited to each other, arranged. Boswell.

Note return to page 249 *Quarto R. far'st.

Note return to page 250 9&lblank; his envy's reach,] Envy in this place means hatred or malice. So, in Reynolds's God's Revenge against Murder, 1621: “&lblank; he never looks on her (his wife) with affection, but envy,” p. 109, edit. 1679. So also, (as Mr. Malone observes,) in Lazarus Pyot's Orator, &c. [See the notes at the end of this play,] “&lblank; they had slaine him for verie envie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 251 1&lblank; remorse,] Remorse in our author's time generally signified pity, tenderness. Malone. So, in Othello: “And to obey shall be in me remorse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 252 2&lblank; apparent &lblank;] That is, seeming; not real. Johnson.

Note return to page 253 3&lblank; where &lblank;] For whereas. Johnson. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And where I thought the remnant of mine age “Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 254 4Enough to press a royal merchant down,] We are not to imagine the word royal to be only a ranting sounding epithet. It is used with great propriety, and shows the poet well acquainted with the history of the people whom he here brings upon the stage. For when the French and Venetians, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, had won Constantinople, the French under the emperor Henry, endeavoured to extend their conquests into the provinces of the Grecian empire on the Terra firma; while the Venetians, who were masters of the sea, gave liberty to any subjects of the republick, who would fit out vessels, to make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelago, and other maritime places; and to enjoy their conquests in sovereignty: only doing homage to the republick for their several principalities. By virtue of this licence, the Sanudo's, the Justiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripo's, and others, all Venetian merchants, erected principalities in several places of the Archipelago, (which their descendants enjoyed for many generations) and thereby became truly and properly royal merchants. Which indeed was the title generally given them all over Europe. Hence the most eminent of our own merchants (while publick spirit resided amongst them, and before it was aped by faction,) were called royal merchants. Warburton. This epithet was in our poet's time more striking and better understood, because Gresham was then commonly dignified with the title of the royal merchant. Johnson. Even the pulpit did not disdain the use of this phrase. I have now before me “The Merchant Royal, a Sermon, preached at Whitehall, before the king's majestie, at the nuptialls of the right honourable the Lord Hay and his lady, upon the twelfe day last, being Jan. 6, 1607.” Steevens.

Note return to page 255 *So quarto R.; folio and quarto H. flints.

Note return to page 256 *So quarto R.; quarto H. and folio, sabaoth.

Note return to page 257 5&lblank; I'll not answer that: But, say, it is my humour;] The Jew being asked a question which the law does not require him to answer, stands upon his right, and refuses: but afterwards gratifies his own malignity by such answers as he knows will aggravate the pain of the enquirer. I will not answer, says he, as to a legal or serious question, but since you want an answer, will this serve you? Johnson. “&lblank; say, it is my humour;” suppose it is my particular fancy. Heath.

Note return to page 258 6&lblank; a gaping pig;] So, in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping; “I thought your grace would find him out a Jew.” Again, in the Mastive, &c. or, A Collection of Epigrams and Satires: “Darkas cannot endure to see a cat, “A breast of mutton, or a pig's head gaping.” See King Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. III. Steevens. By a gaping pig, Shakspeare, I believe, meant a pig prepared for the table; for in that state is the epithet, gaping, most applicable to this animal. So, in Fletcher's Elder Brother: “And they stand gaping like a roasted pig.” A passage in one of Nash's pamphlets (which perhaps furnished our author with his instance,) may serve to confirm the observation: “The causes conducting unto wrath are as diverse as the actions of a man's life. Some will take on like a madman, if they see a pig come to the table. Sotericus the surgeon was cholerick at the sight of sturgeon,” &c. Pierce Pennylesse his Supplication to the Devil, 1592. Malone. So, in Muffat on Food: “What soldier knoweth not that a roasted pigg will affright Captain Swan more than the sight of twenty Spaniards.” Boswell.

Note return to page 259 7Cannot contain their urine, &c.] Mr. Rowe reads: “Cannot contain their urine for affection. “Masterless passion sways it to the mood “Of what it likes, or loaths.” Masterless passion Mr. Pope has since copied. I don't know what word there is to which this relative it is to be referred. The ingenious Dr. Thirlby would thus adjust the passage: “Cannot contain their urine; for affection, “Master of passion, sways it,” &c. And then it is govern'd of passion. The two old quartos and folios read—Masters of passion, &c. It may be objected, that affection and passion mean the same thing. But I observe, the writers of our author's age made a distinction; as Jonson in Sejanus: “&lblank; He hath studied “Affection's passions, knows their springs and ends.” And then, in this place, affection will stand for that sympathy or antipathy of soul, by which we are provok'd to show a liking or disgust in the working of our passions. Theobald. Masters of passion, is certainly right. He is speaking of the power of sound over the human affections, and concludes, very naturally, that the masters of passion (for so he finely calls the musicians,) sway the passions or affections as they please. Alluding to what the ancients tell us of the feats that Timotheus and other musicians worked by the power of music. Can any thing be more natural? Warburton. Does not the verb sway, which governs the two nominative cases affection and masters, require that both should be plural, and consequently direct us to read thus? “For affections, masters of passion sway it,” &c. Sir John Hawkins. That affections and passions anciently had different significations, may be known from the following instance in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “His heart was fuller of passions than his eyes of affections.” Affections, as used by Shylock, seem to signify imaginations, or prejudices. In Othello, Act I. is a passage somewhat similar: “And though we have here a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safe voice on you.” Steevens. Of this much controverted passage, my opinion was formerly very different from what it is at present. Sways, the reading of the old copies, I conceived, could not agree with masters as a substantive; but very soon after my former note on these words was printed, I found that this was not only our author's usual phraseology, but the common language of the time. Innumerable instances of the same kind occur in these plays; in all of which I have followed the practice of my predecessors, and silently reduced the substantive and the verb to concord. This is the only change that is now made in the present passage; for all the ancient copies read—affection, not affections, as the word has been printed in late editions, in order to connect it with the following line. “Cannot contain their urine for affection,” I believe, means only—Cannot, &c. on account of their being affected by the noise of the bag-pipe; or, in other words, on account of an involuntary antipathy to such a noise. In the next line, which is put in apposition with that preceding, the word it may refer either to passion, or affection. To explain it, I shall borrow Dr. Johnson's words, with a slight variation: “Those who know how to operate on the passion of men, rule it, (or rule the sympathetick feeling,) by making it operate in obedience to the notes which please or disgust it.” It, (“sway it,”) in my opinion, refers to affection, that is, to the sympathetick feeling. Malone. The true meaning undoubtedly is,—The masters of passion, that is, such as are possessed of the art of engaging and managing the human passions, influence them by a skilful application to the particular likings or loathings of the person they are addressing; this is a proof that men are generally governed by their likings and loathings, and therefore it is by no means strange or unnatural that I should be so too in the present instance. Heath. The reading of all the old editions is: “And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' th' nose, “Cannot contain their urine for affection. “Masters of passion sways it to the mood “Of what it likes or loaths.” i. e. some men when they hear the sound of a bag-pipe, are so affected therewith that they cannot retain their urine. For those things which are masters over passion, make it like or loath whatever they will. Ritson. After all that has been said about this contested passage, I am convinced we are indebted for the true reading of it to Mr. Waldron, the ingenious editor and continuator of Ben Jonson's Sad Shepherd. In his Appendix, p. 212, he observes that “Mistress was formerly spelt Maistresse or Maistres. In Upton's and Church's Spenser, we have: “&lblank; young birds, which he had taught to sing “His maistresse praises.” B. iii. c. vii. st. 17. This, I presume, is the reading of the first edition of the three first books of The Fairy Queen, 1590, which I have not; in the second edition, 1596, and the folios 1609 and 1611, it is spelt mistresse. In Bulleyn's Dialogue we have “my maister, and my maistress.” See p. 219 of this Appendix. Perhaps Maistres, (easily corrupted, by the transposition of the r and e, into Maisters, which is the reading of the second folio of Shakspeare) might have been the poet's word. Mr. Steevens, in his note on this difficult passage, gives a quotation from Othello, which countenances this supposed difference of gender in the noun:—“And though we have here a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safe voice on you.” Admitting maistres to have been Shakspeare's word, we may, according to modern orthography, read the passage thus: “&lblank; for affection “Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood “Of what it likes, or loaths.” In the Latin, it is to be observed, Affectio and Passio are feminine. To the foregoing amendment, so well supported, and so modestly offered, I cannot refuse a place in the text of our author. This emendation may also receive countenance from the following passage in the fourth book of Sidney's Arcadia: “&lblank; She saw in him how much fancy doth not only darken reason, but beguile sense; she found opinion mistresse of the Lover's judgment.” So, likewise, in the Prol. to a MS. entitled, The Boke of Huntyng, that is cleped Mayster of Game:—“ymaginacion maistresse of alle workes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 260 8Why he, a swollen bag-pipe;] This incident Shakspeare seems to have taken from J. C. Scaliger's Exot. Exercit. against Cardan. A book that our author was well read in, and much indebted to for a great deal of his physics: it being then much in vogue, and indeed is excellent, though now long since forgot. In his 344 Exercit. Sect. vi. he has these words: “Narrabo nunc tibi jocosam Sympathiam Reguli Vasconis equitis. Is dum viveret, audito phormingis sono, urinam illico facere cogebatur.” —And to make this jocular story still more ridiculous, Shakspeare, I suppose, translated phorminx by bag-pipes. But what I would chiefly observe from hence is this, that as Scaliger uses the word Sympathiam, which signifies, and so he interprets it communem affectionem duabus rebus, so Shakspeare translates it by affection: “Cannot contain their urine for affection.” Which shows the truth of the preceding emendation of the text according to the old copies; which have a full stop at affection, and read Masters of passion. Warburton. In an old translation from the French of Peter de Loier, intitled A Treatise of Spectres, or strange Sights, Visions, &c. we have this identical story from Scaliger; and what is still more, a marginal note gives us in all probability the very fact alluded to, as well as the word of Shakspeare. “Another gentleman of this quality lived of late in Devon, neere Excester, who could not endure the playing on a bag-pipe.” We may justly add, as some observation has been made upon it, that affection in the sense of sympathy, was formerly technical; and so used by Lord Bacon, Sir K. Digby, and many other writers. Farmer. The story of the Devonshire gentlemen, I believe, first appeared in the margin of De Loier's book in 1605, some years after this play was printed; but it might have been current in conversation before, or it may have found its way into some other book of that age. Malone. As all the editors agree with complete uniformity in reading woollen bag-pipe, I can hardly forbear to imagine that they understood it. But I never saw a woollen bag-pipe, nor can well conceive it. I suppose the author wrote wooden bag-pipe, meaning that the bag was of leather, and the pipe of wood. Johnson. This passage is clear from all difficulty, if we read swelling or swollen bag-pipe, which, that we should, I have not the least doubt. Sir John Hawkins. A passage in Turbervile's Epitaphes, p. 13, supports the emendation proposed by Sir John Hawkins: “First came the rustick forth “With pipe and puffed bag.” This instance was pointed out to me by Dr. Farmer. Steevens. Perhaps Shakspeare calls the bagpipe woollen, from the bag being generally covered with woollen cloth. I have seen one at Alnwick, belonging to one of the pipers in the Percy family, covered with black velvet, and guarded with silver fringe. R. G. Robinson. As the aversion was not caused by the outward appearance of the bag-pipe, but merely by the sound arising from its inflation, I have placed the conjectural reading—swollen, in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 9&lblank; you question &lblank;] To question is to converse. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; in the loss of question—” i. e. conversation that leads to nothing. To reason had anciently the same meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 262 *First folio omits why he hath made.

Note return to page 263 1&lblank; the mountain pines To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven:] This image seems to have been caught from Golding's version of Ovid, 1587, book xv. p. 196: “Such noise as pine-trees make, what time the headdy easterne wind “Doth whizz amongst them &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 264 2&lblank; many a purchas'd slave,] This argument, considered as used to the particular persons, seems conclusive. I see not how Venetians or Englishmen, while they practise the purchase and sale of slaves, can much enforce or demand the law of doing to others as we would that they should do to us. Johnson.

Note return to page 265 3&lblank; 'tis mine,] The first quarto [quarto H.] reads—as mine, evidently a misprint for is. The other quarto and the folio—'tis mine. Malone.

Note return to page 266 4&lblank; Bellario, a learned doctor, Whom I have sent for &lblank;] The doctor and the court are here somewhat unskilfully brought together. That the duke would, on such an occasion, consult a doctor of great reputation, is not unlikely; but how should this be foreknown by Portia? Johnson. I do not see any necessity for supposing that this was foreknown by Portia. She consults Bellario as an eminent lawyer, and her relation. If the Duke had not consulted him, the only difference would have been, that she would have come into court, as an advocate perhaps, instead of a judge. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 267 5&lblank; the forfeiture &lblank;] Read—forfeit. It occurs repeatedly in the present scene for forfeiture. Ritson.

Note return to page 268 6Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,] This lost jingle Mr. Theobald found again; but knew not what to make of it when he had it, as appears by his paraphrase: “Though thou thinkest that thou art whetting thy knife on the sole of thy shoe, yet it is upon thy soul, thy immortal part.” Absurd, the conceit is, that his soul was so hard that it had given an edge to his knife. Warburton. So, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts; “Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, “To stab at half an hour of my life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 269 7Of thy sharp envy.] Envy again, in this place, signifies hatred or malice. Steevens.

Note return to page 270 8&lblank; inexorable dog!] All the copies read—inexecrable.—It was corrected in the third folio. Steevens. Perhaps, however, unnecessarily. In was sometimes used in our author's time, in composition, as an augmentative or intensive particle. Malone.

Note return to page 271 9&lblank; thy currish spirit Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,] This allusion might have been caught from some old translation of Pliny, who mentions a Parrhasian turned into a wolf, because he had eaten part of a child that had been consecrated to Lycæan Jupiter. See Goulart's Admirable Histories, 4to. 1607, pp. 390, 391. Steevens.

Note return to page 272 *First folio, endless.

Note return to page 273 1Cannot impugn you,] To impugn, is to oppose, to controvert. So, in the Tragedy of Darius, 1603: “Yet though my heart would fain impugn my word.” Again: “If any press t' impugn what I impart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 274 2You stand within his danger,] i. e. within his reach or control. This phrase originates from another in the lowest Latin, that often occurs in monastic records. Thus, (as Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed on a passage in Chaucer,) See Hist. Abbat. Pipwell. ap. Monast. Angl. t. i. p. 815: “Nec audebant Abbates eidem resistere, quia aut pro denariis aut pro bladis semper fuerunt Abbates in dangerio dicti Officialis.” Thus, also, in the Corvysor's Play, among the collection of Whitsun Mysteries, represented at Chester. See MS. Harl. 1013, p. 106: “Two detters some tyme there were “Oughten money to an usurere, “The one was in his daungere “Fyve hundred poundes tolde.” Steevens. There are frequent instances in The Paston Letters of the use of this phrase in the same sense; whence it is obvious, from the common language of the time, that to be in debt and to be in danger, were synonymous terms. Henley. Again, in Powel's History of Wales, 1587: “&lblank; laying for his excuse that he had offended manie noblemen of England, and therefore would not come in their danger.” Again, in our poet's Venus and Adonis: “Come not within his danger by your will.” Malone.

Note return to page 275 3The quality of mercy is not strain'd; &c.] In composing these beautiful lines, it is probable that Shakspeare recollected the following verse in Ecclesiasticus, xxxv. 20: “Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as clouds of rain in the time of drought.” Douce.

Note return to page 276 4And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice.] So, in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596: “And kings approach the nearest unto God, “By giving life and safety unto men.” So Sir J. Harrington, as quoted in England's Parnassus, under the head Mercie: “&lblank; This noble virtue and divine “Doth chiefly make a man so rare and od, “As in that one, he most resembleth God.” So also, Thomas Achely quoted at the same place: “Then come we nearest to the Gods on hie, “When we are farthest from extremetie, “Giving forthe sentence of our lawes with mercie.” Malone. There is something extremely like this in the petition of the Convocation to Queen Elizabeth, in 1580, praying her to pardon Archbishop Grindal. “Nihil est tam populare quam bonitas: atque principes ad præpotentem Deum nullâ re propius accedunt quam offensionibus deponendis et obliviscendis injuriis.” Fuller Ch. Hist. sub ann. Blackeway.

Note return to page 277 5&lblank; in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation:] Portia referring the Jew to the Christian doctrine of salvation, and the Lord's Prayer, is a little out of character. Blackstone.

Note return to page 278 *So quartos; folio, course.

Note return to page 279 6My deeds upon my head!] An imprecation adopted from that of the Jews to Pilate: “His blood be on us, and our children!” Henley.

Note return to page 280 7Yea, twice the sum:] We should read—thrice the sum.— Portia, a few lines below, says— “Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.” And Shylock himself supports the emendation: “I take his offer then;—pay the bond thrice.” The editions, indeed, read—this offer; but Mr. Steevens has already proposed the alteration we ought to adopt. Ritson.

Note return to page 281 8&lblank; malice bears down truth.] Malice oppresses honesty; a true man in old language is an honest man. We now call the jury good men and true. Johnson.

Note return to page 282 *Quarto, I do.

Note return to page 283 *So quartos; folio, should.

Note return to page 284 †So folio; quartos, you.

Note return to page 285 9Of such a misery &lblank;] The first folio destroys the measure by omitting the particle—a; which, nevertheless, is found in the corrected second folio, 1632. Steevens.

Note return to page 286 1&lblank; the stock of Barrabas &lblank;] The name of this robber is differently spelt as well as accented in The New Testament; [&grM;&grhg; &grt;&gro;&gruc;&grt;&gro;&grn;, &grar;&grl;&grl;&gra; &grt;&gro;&grn; &grB;&gra;&grr;&gra;&grb;&grb;&grac;&grn;&grcolon; &grhsc;&grn; &grd;&gre; &gror; &grB;&gra;&grr;&gra;&grb;&grb;&grac;&grst; &grl;&grh;&grs;&grt;&grha;&grst;;] but Shakspeare seems to have followed the pronunciation usual to the theatre, Barabbas being sounded Barabas throughout Marlowe's Jew of Malta. Our poet might otherwise have written: “Would any of Barabbas' stock had been “Her husband, rather than a Christian!” Steevens.

Note return to page 287 2I take this offer then;] Perhaps we should read—his; i. e. Bassanio's, who offers twice the sum, &c. Steevens. This offer is right. Shylock specifies the offer he means, which is, “to have the bond paid thrice.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 288 3Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.] This judgment is related by Gracian, the celebrated Spanish jesuit, in his Hero, with a reflection at the conclusion of it: “&lblank; Compite con la del Salomon la promptitud de aquel gran Turco. Pretendia un Judio cortar una onza de carne a un Christiano, pena sobre usura. Insistia en ello con igual terqueria a su Principe, que perfidia a su Dios. Mando el gran Juez traer peso, y cuchillo; conminole el deguello si cortava mas ni menos. Y fue dar agudo corte a la lid, y al mundo milagro del ingenio.” El Heroe de Lorenzo Gracian. Primor. 3. Thus rendered by Sir John Skeffington, 1652: “The vivacity of that great Turke enters in competition with that of Solomon: a Jew pretended to cut an ounce of the flesh of a Christian upon a penalty of usury; he urged it to the Prince, with as much obstinacy, as perfidiousness towards God. The great Judge commanded a pair of scales to be brought, threatening the Jew with death if he cut either more or less: And this was to give a sharp decision to a malicious process, and to the world a miracle of subtilty.” The Heroe, p. 24, &c. Gregorio Leti, in his Life of Sixtus V. has a similar story. The papacy of Sixtus began in 1583. He died Aug. 29, 1590. The reader will find an extract from Farneworth's translation, at the conclusion of the play. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 *Quarto R. on.

Note return to page 290 4Ay, for the state; &c.] That is, the state's moiety may be commuted for a fine, but not Antonio's. Malone.

Note return to page 291 5I am content,] The terms proposed have been misunderstood. Antonio declares, that as the duke quits one half of the forfeiture, he is likewise content to abate his claim, and desires not the property but the use or produce only of the half, and that only for the Jew's life, unless we read, as perhaps is right, upon my death. Johnson. Antonio tells the duke, that if he will abate the fine for the state's half, he (Antonio) will be contented to take the other, in trust, after Shylock's death, to render it to his daughter's husband. That is, it was, during Shylock's life, to remain at interest in Antonio's hands, and Shylock was to enjoy the produce of it. Ritson. Antonio's offer is, “that he will quit the fine for one half of his fortune, provided that he will let him have it at interest during the Jew's life, to render it on his death to Lorenzo.” That is the meaning of the words to let me have in use. M. Mason.

Note return to page 292 6&lblank; thou should'st have had ten more,] i. e. a jury of twelve men, to condemn thee to be hanged. Theobald. So, in The Devil is an Ass, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; I will leave you “To your godfathers in law. Let twelve men work.” Steevens. This appears to have been an old joke. So, in A Dialogue both pleasaunt and pietifull, &c. by Dr. William Bulleyne, 1564, (which has been quoted in a former page,) one of the speakers, to show his mean opinion of an ostler at an inn, says: “I did see him aske blessinge to xii godfathers at ones.” Malone.

Note return to page 293 7&lblank; grace of pardon;] Thus the old copies; the modern editors read, less harshly, but without authority,—your grace's pardon. The same kind of expression occurs in Othello:—“I humbly do beseech you of your pardon.” In the notes to As You Like It, and A Midsummer-Night's Dream, I have given repeated instances of this phraseology. Steevens. Your grace's pardon, was found in a copy of no authority, the 4to. of 1637. Malone.

Note return to page 294 8She would not hold out enemy for ever,] An error of the press.—Read “hold out enmity.” M. Mason. I believe the reading in the text is the true one. So, in Much Ado About Nothing, Act I. Sc. I. the Messenger says to Beatrice: —“I will hold friends with you, lady.” Steevens.

Note return to page 295 9&lblank; upon more advice,] i. e. more reflection. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “You never did lack advice so much,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 296 1&lblank; old swearing,] Of this once common augmentative in colloquial language, there are various instances in our author. Thus, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the King's English.” Again, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “&lblank; here will be old utis.” The same phrase also occurs in Macbeth. Steevens.

Note return to page 297 2&lblank; In such a night as this,] The several speeches beginning with these words, &c. are imitated in the old comedy of Wily Beguiled; which though not ascertaining the exact date of that play, prove it to have been written after Shakspeare's: “In such a night did Paris win his love. “Lelia. In such a night, Æneas prov'd unkind. “Sophos. In such a night did Troilus court his dear. “Lelia. In such a night, fair Phillis was betray'd.” Orig. of the Drama, vol. iii. p. 865. Whalley. Willy Beguiled was written before 1596, being mentioned by Nashe in one of his pamphlets published in that year. Malone.

Note return to page 298 3Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,] This image is from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, 5 B. 666 and 1142: “Upon the wallis fast eke would he walke, “And on the Grekis host he would y-se, &c. “The daie goth fast, and after that came eve   “And yet came not to Troilus Cresseide, “He lokith forth, by hedge, by tre, by greve, “And ferre his heade ovir the walle he leide,” &c. Again, ibid.: “And up and doune by west and eke by est, “Upon the wallis made he many a went.” Steevens.

Note return to page 299 4In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand &lblank;] This passage contains a small instance out of many that might be brought to prove that Shakspeare was no reader of the classicks. Steevens. For the willow the poet must answer; but I believe he here recollected Chaucer's description of Ariadne in a similar situation: “Alas (quod she) that ever I was wrought! “I am betrayed, and her heere to-rent, “And to the stronde barefote fast she went, “And cried; Theseus, mine-hert swete, “Where be ye, that I may nat with you mete; “And might thus with beestes bin yslaine. “The halow rockes answerde her againe. “No man she saw, and yet shone the moone.— “She cried, O turne again, for routhe and sinne; “Thy barge hath not all his meine in. “Her kerchefe on a pole sticked she, “Ascaunce he should it well ysee, “And him remember that she was behind, “And turne againe, and on the stronde her find.” Legend of Good Women, p. 194, b. Mr. Warton suggests in his History of English Poetry, that Shakspeare might have taken this circumstance of the willow from some ballad on the subject. Malone.

Note return to page 300 5In such a night, &c.] So, Gower, speaking of Medea: “Thus it befell upon a night “Whann there was nought but sterre light, “She was vanished right as hir list, “That no wight but herself wist: “And that was at midnight tide, “The world was still on every side,” &c. Confessio Amantis, 1554. Steevens.

Note return to page 301 6And in such a night,] The word—and was necessarily added by Mr. Pope, for the sake of metre, both in this and the following speech of Lorenzo. Steevens. No alteration is necessary: two hemistichs frequently occur at the end of one speech and the commencement of another. See the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. It might as well be objected that the close and beginning of the preceding speeches are redundant. Boswell.

Note return to page 302 7&lblank; she doth stray about By holy crosses,] So, in The Merry Devil of Edmonton: “But there are Crosses, wife; here's one in Waltham, “Another at the Abbey, and the third “At Ceston; and 'tis ominous to pass “Any of these without a Pater-Noster.” And this is a reason assigned for the delay of a wedding. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 8Sweet soul,] These words in the old copies are placed at the end of Launcelot's speech. Malone. These two words should certainly be placed at the beginning of the following speech of Lorenzo: “Sweet soul, let's in,” &c. Mr. Pope, I see, has corrected this blunder of the old edition, but he has changed soule into love, without any necessity. Tyrwhitt. Mr. Rowe first made the present regulation, which appears to me to be right. But instead of soul he reads—love, the latter word having been capriciously substituted in the place of the former by the editor of the second folio, who introduced a large portion of the corruptions, which for a long time disfigured the modern editions. Malone. I rather suppose, that the printer of the second folio, judiciously correcting some mistakes, through inattention committed others. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 9&lblank; and let the sounds of musick Creep in our ears;] So, in Churchyard's Worthies of Wales, 1587: “A musick sweete, that through our eares shall creepe, “By secret arte, and lull a man asleepe.” Again, in The Tempest: “This musick crept by me upon the waters.” Reed.

Note return to page 305 1&lblank; with patines of bright gold;] Dr. Warburton says we should read—patens; a round broad plate of gold borne in heraldry. Steevens. Pattens is the reading of the first folio, and pattents of the quarto. Patterns is printed first in the folio, 1632. Johnson. One of the quartos, 1600, reads—pattens, the other pattents. Steevens. A patine, from patina, Lat. A patine is the small flat dish or plate used with the chalice, in the administration of the eucharist. In the time of popery, and probably in the following age, it was commonly made of gold. Malone.

Note return to page 306 2Such harmony is in immortal souls; &c.] It is proper to exhibit the lines as they stand in the copies of the first, second, third, and fourth editions, without any variation, for a change has been silently made by Rowe, and adopted by all the succeeding editors: “Such harmony is in immortal souls; “But while this muddy vesture of decay “Doth grossly close in it, we cannot hear it.” That the third line is corrupt must be allowed, but it gives reason to suspect that the original was: Doth grossly close it in. Yet I know not whether from this any thing better can be produced than the received reading. Perhaps harmony is the power of perceiving harmony, as afterwards: Musick in the soul is the quality of being moved with concord of sweet sounds. This will somewhat explain the old copies, but the sentence is still imperfect; which might be completed by reading: Such harmony is in th' immortal soul, But while this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Johnson.

Note return to page 307 3&lblank; close it in &lblank;] This idea might have been adopted from a passage in Phaer's translation of Virgil, b. vi.: “Nor closed so in darke can they regard their heavenly kinde, “For carkasse foul of flesh, and dungeon vile of prison blinde.” Steevens. “Such harmony is in immortal souls; &c.” This passage having been much misunderstood, it may be proper to add a short explanation of it. Such harmony, &c. is not an explanation arising from the foregoing line—“So great is the harmony!” but an illustration: —“Of the same kind is the harmony.”—The whole runs thus: “There is not one of the heavenly orbs but sings as it moves, still quiring to the cherubin. Similar to the harmony they make, is that of immortal souls; or,” in other words, “each of us have as perfect harmony in our souls as the harmony of the spheres, inasmuch as we have the quality of being moved by sweet sounds (as he expresses it afterwards); but our gross terrestrial part, which environs us, deadens the sound, and prevents our hearing.”—It, [Doth glossly close it in,] I apprehend, refers to harmony. This is the reading of the first quarto printed by Heyes; the quarto printed by Roberts, and the folio, read—close in it. It may be objected that this internal harmony is not an object of sense, cannot be heard;—but Shakspeare is not always exact in his language: he confounds it with that external and artificial harmony which is capable of being heard.—Dr. Warburton (who appears to have entirely misunderstood this passage,) for souls reads sounds. This hath been imitated by Milton in his Arcades: “Such sweet compulsion doth in musick lie, “To lull the daughters of necessity, “And keep unsteady nature in her law, “And the low world in measur'd motion draw “After the heavenly tune which none can hear “Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear.” Malone. Thus, in Comus: “Can any mortal mixture of earth's mold “Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? “Sure something holy lodges in that breast, “And with these raptures moves the vocal air “To testify his hidden residence.” Henley. The old reading in immortal souls is certainly right, and the whole line may be well explained by Hooker, in his Ecclesiastical Polity, b. v.: “Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low sounds in a due proportionable disposition, such, notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think, that the soul itself by nature is or hath in it harmony.” For this quotation I am indebted to Dr. Farmer. Mr. Malone observes that “the fifth Book of the E. P. was published singly, in 1597.” Steevens.

Note return to page 308 4&lblank; wake Diana with a hymn;] Diana is the moon, who is in the next scene represented as sleeping. Johnson.

Note return to page 309 5And draw her home with musick.] Shakspeare was, I believe, here thinking of the custom of accompanying the last waggon-load, at the end of harvest, with rustick musick. He again alludes to this yet common practice, in As You Like It. Malone.

Note return to page 310 6I am never merry, when I hear sweet musick.] In the age of Shakspeare it is probable that some shade of meaning (at present undeterminable,) was occasionally affixed to the words sweet and sweetness. Thus, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, [See Act III. Sc. I.] we have “a sweet mouth;” and in Measure for Measure, [Act II. Sc. IV.] we are told of— “Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image, “In stamps that are forbid.” If, in the speech under consideration, Jessica only employs the term sweet in one of its common senses, it seems inadequate to the effects assigned to it; and the following passage in Horace's Art of Poetry, is as liable to the same objection, unless dulcia be supposed to mean interesting, or having such command over our passions as musick merely sweet can never obtain: “Non satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto, “Et, quocunque volunt, animum auditoris agunto.” Steevens. Sweet is pleasing, delightful, and such is the meaning of dulcis in Horace. Malone.

Note return to page 311 7&lblank; do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of musick touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, &c.] We find the same thought in The Tempest: “&lblank; Then I beat my tabor, “At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, “Advanc'd their eye-lids, lifted up their noses, “As they smelt musick.” Malone.

Note return to page 312 8The man that hath no musick in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,] The thought here is extremely fine; as if the being affected with musick was only the harmony between the internal [musick in himself] and the external musick [concord of sweet sounds;] which were mutually affected like unison strings. This whole speech could not choose but please an English audience, whose great passion, as well then as now, was love of musick. “Jam verò video naturam (says Erasmus in praise of Folly,) ut singulis nationibus, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandam insevisse Philautiam: atque hinc fieri, ut Britanni, præter alia, Formam, Musicam, & lautas Mensas propriè sibi vindicent.” Warburton. This passage, which is neither pregnant with physical and moral truth, nor poetically beautiful in an eminent degree, has constantly enjoyed the good fortune to be repeated by those whose inhospitable memories would have refused to admit or retain any other sentiment or description of the same author, however exalted or just. The truth is, that it furnishes the vacant fiddler with something to say in defence of his profession, and supplies the coxcomb in musick with an invective against such as do not pretend to discover all the various powers of language in inarticulate sounds. Our ancient statutes have often received the best comment by means of reference to the particular occasion on which they were framed. Dr. Warburton has therefore properly accounted for Shakspeare's seeming partiality to this amusement. He might have added, that Peacham requires of his Gentleman only to be able “to sing his part sure, and at first sight, and withal to play the same on a viol or lute.” Let not, however, this capricious sentiment of Shakspeare descend to posterity, unattended by the opinion of the late Lord Chesterfield on the same subject. In his 148th letter to his son, who was then at Venice, his lordship, after having enumerated musick among the illiberal pleasures, adds—“if you love musick, hear it; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I must insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous and contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of bad company, and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth.” Again, Letter 153: “A taste of sculpture and painting is, in my mind, as becoming as a taste of fiddling and piping is unbecoming a man of fashion. The former is connected with history and poetry, the latter with nothing but bad company.” Again:— “Painting and sculpture are very justly called liberal arts; a lively and strong imagination, together with a just observation, being absolutely necessary to excel in either; which, in my opinion, is by no means the case of musick, though called a liberal art, and now in Italy placed above the other two; a proof of the decline of that country.” Ibidem. Steevens. The lovers of musick may submit to have the opinion of Lord Chesterfield quoted against them, while they have that of Shakspeare in their favour. Boswell.

Note return to page 313 9&lblank; without respect;] Not absolutely good, but relatively good as it is modified by circumstances. Johnson.

Note return to page 314 1The nightingale, &c.] So, in our author's 102d Sonnet: “Our love was new, and then but in the spring,   “When I was wont to greet it with my lays; “As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,   “And stops his pipe in growth of riper days; “Not that the summer is less pleasant now,   “Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night; “But that wild musick burdens every bough,   “And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.” Malone.

Note return to page 315 2Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd!] The old copies read—Peace! how, &c. For the emendation now made I am answerable. The oddness of the phrase: “How the moon would not be awak'd!” first made me suspect the passage to be corrupt; and the following lines in Romeo and Juliet suggested the emendation, and appear to me to put it beyond a doubt: “Peace, hoa, for shame! confusion's cure lives not “In these confusions.” Again, in As You Like It, Act I.: “Peace, hoa! I bar confusion.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Hoa! peace be in this place!” Again, ibid.: “Peace hoa, be here!” In Antony and Cleopatra the same mistake, I think, has happened. In the passage before us, as exhibited in the old copies, there is not a note of admiration after the word awak'd. Portia first enjoins the musick to cease: “Peace, hoa!” and then subjoins the reason for her injunction: “The moon,” &c. Mr. Tyrwhitt seems to be of opinion that the interjection Ho was formerly used to command a cessation of noise, as well as of fighting. See Cant. Tales of Chaucer, vol. iv. p. 230. Malone. The old reading, I think, is right: How, as Johnson observes, is someiimes used as a mere affirmation. Boswell.

Note return to page 316 *So folio, and quarto H.; quarto R. health.

Note return to page 317 2A tucket &lblank;] Toccata, Ital. a flourish on a trumpet Steevens.

Note return to page 318 3&lblank; daylight sick, It looks a little paler;] Hence, perhaps, the following verse in Dryden's Indian Emperor: “The moon shines clear, and makes a paler day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 319 4We should hold day, &c.] If you would always walk in the night, it would be day with us, as it now is on the other side of the globe. Malone.

Note return to page 320 5We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.] Thus, Rowe, in his Ambitious Stepmother; “Your eyes, which, could the sun's fair beams decay, “Might shine for him, and bless the world with day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 321 6Let me give light, &c.] There is scarcely any word with which Shakspeare so much delights to trifle as with light, in its various significations. Johnson. Most of the old dramatic writers are guilty of the same quibble. So, Marston, in his Insatiate Countess, 1613: “By this bright light that is deriv'd from thee— “So, sir, you make me a very light creature.” Again, Middleton, in A Mad World My Masters, 1608: “&lblank; more lights—I call'd for light: here come in two are light enough for a whole house.” Again, in Springes for Woodcocks, a collection of epigrams, 1606: “Lais of lighter metal is compos'd “Than hath her lightness till of late disclos'd; “For lighting where she light acceptance feels, “Her fingers there prove lighter than her heels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 322 7&lblank; this breathing courtesy.] This verbal complimentary form, made up only of breath, i. e. words. So, in Timon of Athens, a senator replies to Alcibiades, who had made a long speech:—“You breathe in vain.” Malone. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; mouth-honour, breath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 323 *So folio, and quarto H.; quarto R. posie.

Note return to page 324 8That she did give me; whose posy was &lblank;] For the sake of measure, I suppose we should read: “That she did give to me;” &c. So, afterwards: “Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 325 9&lblank; like cutler's poetry &lblank;] Knives, as Sir J. Hawkins observes, were formerly inscribed, by means of aqua fortis, with short sentences in distich. In Decker's Satiromastix, Sir Edward Vaughan says: “You shall swear by Phœbus, who is your poet's good lord and master, that hereafter you will not hire Horace to give you poesies for rings, or handkerchers, or knives, which you understand not.” Reed.

Note return to page 326 1&lblank; have been respective,] Respective has the same meaning as respectful. Mr. M. Mason thinks it rather means regardful. See King John, Act I. Steevens. Chapman, Marston, and other poets of that time, use this word in the same sense. [i. e. for respectful.] Malone.

Note return to page 327 *Quartos, no, God's my judge.

Note return to page 328 2&lblank; a youth,— A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; A prating boy, &c.] It is certain from the words of the context and the tenour of the story, that Gratiano does not here speak contemptuously of the judge's clerk, who was no other than Nerissa disguised in man's clothes. He only means to describe the person and appearance of this supposed youth, which he does by insinuating what seemed to be the precise time of his age: he represents him as having the look of a young stripling, of a boy beginning to advance towards puberty. I am therefore of opinion, that the poet wrote: “&lblank; a little stubbed boy.” In many counties it is a common provincialism to call young birds not yet fledged stubbed young ones. But, what is more to our purpose, the author of The History and Antiquities of Glastonbury, printed by Hearne, an antiquarian, and a plain unaffected writer, says, that “Saunders must be a stubbed boy, if not a man, at the dissolution of Abbeys,” &c. edit. 1722, pref. signat. n. 2. It therefore seems to have been a common expression for stripling, the very idea which the speaker means to convey. If the emendation be just here, we should also correct Nerissa's speech which follows: “For that same stubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, “In lieu of this, did lie with me last night.” T. Warton. I believe scrubbed and stubbed have a like meaning, and signify stunted, or shrub-like. So, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History: “&lblank; but such will never prove fair trees, but skrubs only.” Steevens. Stubbed in the sense contended for by Mr. Warton was in use so late as the Restoration. In The Parliamentary Register, July 30, 1660, is an advertisement enquiring after a person described as “a thick short stubbed fellow, round faced, ruddy complexion, dark brown hair and eyebrows, with a sad gray suit.” Reed.

Note return to page 329 3&lblank; contain the ring,] The old copies concur in this reading. Johnson. Mr. Pope and the other modern editors read—to retain, but contain might in our author's time have had nearly the same meaning. The word has been already employed in this sense: “Cannot contain their urine for affection.” So also, in Montaigne's Essaies, translated by Florio, 1603, b. ii. c. iii.: “Why dost thou complaine against this world? It doth not containe thee: if thou livest in paine and sorow, thy base courage is the cause of it; to die there wanteth but will.” Again, in Bacon's Essaies, 4to. 1625, p. 327: “To containe anger from mischiefe, though it take hold of a man, there be two things.” Malone.

Note return to page 330 4What man &lblank; wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony?] This is a very licentious expression. The sense is,—What man could have so little modesty, or wanted modesty so much, as to urge the demand of a thing kept on an account in some sort religious. Johnson. Thus Calphurnia says to Julius Cæsar: “Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies.” Steevens.

Note return to page 331 *So quartos; folio, And.

Note return to page 332 5&lblank; candles of the night,] We have again the same expression in one of our author's Sonnets, in Macbeth, and Romeo and Juliet. It likewise occurs in Diella, Certaine Sonnets adjoyned to the Amorous Poeme of Don Diego, and Gineura, by R. L. 1596: “He who can count the candles of the skie, “Reckon the sands whereon Pactolus flows,” &c. Malone. In some Saxon poetry preserved in Hickes's Thesaurus, (vol. i. p. 181,) the sun is called God's candle. So that this periphrasis for the stars, such a favourite with our poet, might have been an expression not grown obsolete in his days. Holt White.

Note return to page 333 6&lblank; swear by your double self.] Double is here used in a bad sense, for—full of duplicity. Malone.

Note return to page 334 7&lblank; for his wealth;] For his advantage; to obtain his happiness. Wealth was, at that time, the term opposite to adversity, or calamity. Johnson. So, in The Litany: “In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our wealth &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 335 *First folio and quarto H. till.

Note return to page 336 8It has been lately discovered, that this fable is taken from a story in the Pecorone of Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, a novelist, who wrote in 1378. [The first novel of the fourth day.] The story has been published in English, and I have epitomized the translation. The translator is of opinion, that the choice of the caskets is borrowed from a tale of Boccace, which I have likewise abridged, though I believe that Shakspeare must have had some other novel in view.* [Subnote: *See Dr. Farmer's note at the beginning of this play, from which it appears that Dr. Johnson was right in his conjecture. Malone.] Johnson. THERE lived at Florence, a merchant whose name was Bindo. He was rich, and had three sons. Being near his end, he called for the two eldest, and left them heirs: to the youngest he left nothing. This youngest, whose name was Giannetto, went to his father, and said, What has my father done? The father replied, Dear Giannetto, there is none to whom I wish better than to you. Go to Venice to your godfather, whose name is Ansaldo; he has no child, and has wrote to me often to send you thither to him. He is the richest merchant amongst the Christians: if you behave well, you will be certainly a rich man. The son answered, I am ready to do whatever my dear father shall command: upon which he gave him his benediction, and in a few days died. Giannetto went to Ansaldo, and presented the letter given by the father before his death. Ansaldo reading the letter, cried out, My dearest godson is welcome to my arms. He then asked news of his father. Giannetto replied, He is dead. I am much grieved, replied Ansaldo, to hear of the death of Bindo; but the joy I feel, in seeing you, mitigates my sorrow. He conducted him to his house, and gave orders to his servants, that Giannetto should be obeyed, and served with more attention than had been paid to himself. He then delivered him the keys of his ready money: and told him, Son, spend this money, keep a table, and make yourself known: remember, that the more you gain the good will of every body, the more you will be dear to me. Giannetto now began to give entertainments. He was more obedient and courteous to Ansaldo, than if he had been an hundred times his father. Every body in Venice was fond of him. Ansaldo could think of nothing but him; so much was he pleased with his good manners and behaviour. It happened, that two of his most intimate acquaintance designed to go with two ships to Alexandria, and told Giannetto, he would do well to take a voyage and see the world. I would go willingly, said he, if my father Ansaldo will give leave. His companions go to Ansaldo, and beg his permission for Giannetto to go in the spring with them to Alexandria; and desire him to provide him a ship. Ansaldo immediately procured a very fine ship, loaded it with merchandize, adorned it with streamers, and furnished it with arms; and, as soon as it was ready, he gave orders to the captain and sailors to do every thing that Giannetto commanded. It happened one morning early, that Giannetto saw a gulph, with a fine port, and asked the captain how the port was called? He replied, That place belongs to a widow lady, who has ruined many gentlemen. In what manner? says Giannetto. He answered, This lady is a fine and beautiful woman, and has made a law, that whoever arrives here is obliged to go to bed with her, and if he can have the enjoyment of her, he must take her for his wife, and be lord of all the country; but if he cannot enjoy her, he loses every thing he has brought with him. Giannetto, after a little reflection, tells the captain to get into the port. He was obeyed; and in an instant they slide into the port so easily that the other ships perceived nothing. The lady was soon informed of it, and sent for Giannetto, who waited on her immediately. She, taking him by the hand, asked him who he was? whence he came? and if he knew the custom of the country? He answered, that the knowledge of that custom was his only reason for coming. The lady paid him great honours, and sent for barons, counts, and knights, in great numbers, who were her subjects, to keep Giannetto company. These nobles were highly delighted with the good breeding and manners of Giannetto; and all would have rejoiced to have had him for their lord. The night being come, the lady said, it seems to be time to go to bed. Giannetto told the lady, he was entirely devoted to her service: and immediately two damsels enter with wine and sweetmeats. The lady entreats him to taste the wine; he takes the sweet-meats, and drinks some of the wine, which was prepared with ingredients to cause sleep. He then goes into the bed, where he instantly falls asleep, and never wakes till late in the morning, but the lady rose with the sun, and gave orders to unload the vessel, which she found full of rich merchandize. After nine o'clock the woman servants go to the bed-side, order Giannetto to rise and be gone, for he had lost the ship. The lady gave him a horse and money, and he leaves the place very melancholy, and goes to Venice. When he arrives, he dares not return home for shame: but at night goes to the house of a friend, who is surprised to see him, and inquires of him the cause of his return: He answers, his ship had struck on a rock in the night, and was broke in pieces. This friend, going one day to make a visit to Ansaldo, found him very disconsolate. I fear, says Ansaldo, so much, that this son of mine is dead, that I have no rest. His friend told him, that he had been shipwrecked, and had lost his all, but that he himself was safe. Ansaldo instantly gets up and runs to find him. My dear son, said he, you need not fear my displeasure; it is a common accident; trouble yourself no further. He takes him home, all the way telling him to be chearful and easy. The news was soon known all over Venice, and every one was concerned for Giannetto. Some time after, all his companions arriving from Alexandria very rich, demanded what was become of their friend, and having heard the story, ran to see him, and rejoiced with him for his safety; telling him that next spring, he might gain as much as he had lost the last. But Giannetto had no other thoughts than of his return to the lady; and was resolved to marry her, or die. Ansaldo told him frequently, not to be cast down. Giannetto said, he should never be happy, till he was at liberty to make another voyage. Ansaldo provided another ship of more value than the first. He again entered the port of Belmonte, and the lady looking on the port from her bed-chamber, and seeing the ship, asked her maid if she knew the streamers; the maid said, it was the ship of the young man who arrived the last year. You are in the right, answered the lady; he must surely have a great regard for me, for never any one came a second time; the maid said, she had never seen a more agreeable man. He went to the castle, and presented himself to the lady, who, as soon as she saw him, embraced him, and the day was passed in joy and revels. Bed-time being come, the lady entreated him to go to rest; when they were seated in the chamber, the two damsels enter with wine and sweat-meats; and having eat and drank of them, they go to bed, and immediately Giannetto falls aleep; the lady undressed, and lay down by his side; but he waked not the whole night. In the morning, the lady rises, and gives orders to strip the ship. He has a horse and money given him, and away he goes, and never stops till he gets to Venice; and at night goes to the same friend, who with astonishment asked him what was the matter? I am undone, says Giannetto. His friend answered, You are the cause of the ruin of Ansaldo, and your shame ought to be greater than the loss you have suffered. Giannetto lived privately many days. At last he took the resolution of seeing Ansaldo, who rose from his chair, and running to embrace him, told him he was welcome: Giannetto with tears returned his embraces. Ansaldo heard his tale: Do not grieve, my dear son, says he, we have still enough: the sea enriches some men, others it ruins. Poor Giannetto's head was day and night full of the thoughts of his bad success. When Ansaldo enquired what was the matter, he confessed, he could never be contented till he should be in a condition to regain all that he lost. When Ansaldo found him resolved, he began to sell every thing he had, to furnish this other fine ship with merchandize: but, as he wanted still ten thousand ducats, he applied himself to a Jew at Mestri, and borrowed them on condition, that if they were not paid on the feast of St. John in the next month of June, that the Jew might take a pound of flesh from any part of his body he pleased. Ansaldo agreed, and the Jew had an obligation drawn, and witnessed, with all the form and ceremony necessary; and then counted him the ten thousand ducats of gold, with which Ansaldo bought what was still wanting for the vessel. This last ship was finer and better freighted than the other two; and his companions made ready for their voyage, with a design that whatever they gained should be for their friend. When it was time to depart, Ansaldo told Giannetto, that since he well knew of the obligation to the Jew, he entreated, that if any misfortune happened, he would return to Venice, that he might see him before he died; and then he could leave the world with satisfaction: Giannetto promised to do every thing that he conceived might give him pleasure. Ansaldo gave him his blessing, they took their leave, and the ships set out. Giannetto had nothing in his head but to steal into Belmonte; and he prevailed with one of the sailors in the night to sail the vessel into the port. It was told the lady that Giannetto was arrived in port. She saw from the window the vessel, and immediately sent for him. Giannetto goes to the castle, the day is spent in joy and feasting; and to honour him, a tournament is ordered, and many barons and knights tilted that day. Giannetto did wonders, so well did he understand the lance, and was so graceful a figure on horseback: he pleased so much, that all were desirous to have him for their lord. The lady, when it was the usual time, catching him by the hand, begged him to take his rest. When he passed the door of the chamber, one of the damsels in a whisper said to him, Make a pretence to drink the liquor, but touch not one drop. The lady said, I know you must be thirsty, I must have you drink before you go to bed: immediately two damsels entered the room, and presented the wine. Who can refuse wine from such beautiful hands? cries Giannetto: at which the lady smiled. Giannetto takes the cup, and making as if he drank, pours the wine into his bosom. The lady, thinking he had drank, says aside to herself with great joy, You must go, young man, and bring another ship, for this is condemned. Giannetto went to bed, and began to snore as if he slept soundly. The lady, perceiving this, laid herself down by his side. Giannetto loses no time, but turning to the lady, embraces her, saying, Now am I in possession of my utmost wishes. When Giannetto came out of his chamber, he was knighted and placed in the chair of state, had the sceptre put into his hand, and was proclaimed sovereign of the country, with great pomp and splendour; and when the lords and ladies were come to the castle, he married the lady in great ceremony. Giannetto governed excellently, and caused justice to be administered impartially. He continued some time in his happy state, and never entertained a thought of poor Ansaldo, who had given his bond to the Jew for ten thousand ducats. But one day, as he stood at the window of his palace with his bride, he saw a number of people pass along the piazza, with lighted torches. What is the meaning of this? says he. The lady answered, they are artificers, going to make their offerings at the church of St. John, this day being his festival. Giannetto instantly recollected Ansaldo, gave a great sigh, and turned pale. His lady enquired the cause of his sudden change. He said, he felt nothing. She continued to press with great earnestness, till he was obliged to confess the cause of his uneasiness; that Ansaldo was engaged for the money; that the term was expired; and the grief he was in was lest his father should lose his life for him: that if the ten thousand ducats were not paid that day, he must lose a pound of his flesh. The lady told him to mount on horseback, and go by land the nearest way, to take some attendants, and an hundred thousand ducats; and not to stop till he arrived at Venice; and if he was not dead, to endeavour to bring Ansaldo to her. Giannetto takes horse with twenty attendants, and makes the best of his way to Venice. The time being expired, the Jew had seized Ansaldo, and insisted on having a pound of his flesh. He entreated him only to wait some days, that if his dear Giannetto arrived, he might have the pleasure of embracing him: the Jew replied he was willing to wait; but, says he, I will cut off the pound of flesh, according to the words of the obligation. Ansaldo answered, that he was content. Several merchants would have jointly paid the money; the Jew would not hearken to the proposal, but insisted that he might have the satisfaction of saying, that he had put to death the greatest of the Christian merchants. Giannetto making all possible haste to Venice, his lady soon followed him in a lawyer's habit, with two servants attending her. Giannetto, when he came to Venice, goes to the Jew, and (after embracing Ansaldo) tells him, he is ready to pay the money, and as much more as he should demand. The Jew said, he would take no money, since it was not paid at the time due; but that he would have the pound of flesh. Every one blamed the Jew; but as Venice was a place where justice was strictly administered, and the Jew had his pretensions grounded on publick and received forms, their only resource was entreaty; and when the merchants of Venice applied to him, he was inflexible. Giannetto offered him twenty thousand, then thirty thousand, afterwards forty, fifty, and at last an hundred thousand ducats. The Jew told him, if he would give as much gold as Venice was worth, he would not accept it; and, says he, you know little of me, if you think I will desist from my demand. The lady now arrives at Venice, in her lawyer's dress; and alighting at an inn, the landlord asks one of the servants who his master was: the servant answered, that he was a young lawyer who had finished his studies at Bologna. The landlord upon this shows his guest great civility: and when he attended at dinner, the lawyer enquiring how justice was administered in that city, he answered, Justice in this place is too severe, and related the case of Ansaldo. Says the lawyer, This question may be easily answered. If you can answer it, says the landlord, and save this worthy man from death, you will get the love and esteem of all the best men of this city. The lawyer caused a proclamation to be made, that whoever had any law matters to determine, they should have recourse to him: so it was told to Giannetto, that a famous lawyer was come from Bologna, who could decide all cases in law. Giannetto proposed to the Jew to apply to this lawyer. With all my heart, says the Jew; but let who will come, I will stick to my bond. They came to this judge, and saluted him. Giannetto did not remember him: for he had disguised his face with the juice of certain herbs. Giannetto, and the Jew, each told the merits of the cause to the judge; who, when he had taken the bond and read it, said to the Jew, I must have you take the hundred thousand ducats, and release this honest man, who will always have a grateful sense of the favour done to him. The Jew replied, I will do no such thing. The judge answered, It will be better for you. The Jew was positive to yield nothing. Upon this they go to the tribunal appointed for such judgments: and our judge says to the Jew, Do you cut a pound of this man's flesh where you choose. The Jew ordered him to be stripped naked; and takes in his hand a razor, which had been made on purpose. Giannetto, seeing this, turning to the judge, This, says he, is not the favour I asked of you. Be quiet, says he, the pound of flesh is not yet cut off. As soon as the Jew was going to begin, Take care what you do, says the judge, if you take more or less than a pound, I will order your head to be struck off: and beside, if you shed one drop of blood, you shall be put to death. Your paper makes no mention of the shedding of blood; but says expressly, that you may take a pound of flesh, neither more nor less. He immediately sent for the executioner to bring the block and ax; and now, says he, if I see one drop of blood, off goes your head. At length the Jew, after much wrangling, told him, Give me the hundred thousand ducats, and I am content. No, says the judge, cut off your pound of flesh according to your bond: why did not you take the money when it was offered? The Jew came down to ninety, and then to eighty thousand: but the judge was still resolute. Giannetto told the judge to give what he required, that Ansaldo might have his liberty: but he replied, Let me manage him. Then the Jew would have taken fifty thousand: he said, I will not give you a penny. Give me, at least, says the Jew, my own ten thousand ducats, and a curse confound you all. The judge replies, I will give you nothing: if you will have the pound of flesh, take it; if not, I will order your bond to be protested and annulled. The Jew seeing he could gain nothing, tore in pieces the bond in a great rage. Ansaldo was released, and conducted home with great joy by Giannetto, who carried the hundred thousand ducats to the inn to the lawyer. The lawyer said, I do not want money; carry it back to your lady, that she may not say, that you have squandered it away idly. Says Giannetto, My lady is so kind, that I might spend four times as much without incurring her displeasure. How are you pleased with the lady? says the lawyer. I love her better than any earthly thing, answers Giannetto: nature seems to have done her utmost in forming her. If you will come and see her, you will be surprised at the honours she will show you. I cannot go with you, says the lawyer; but since you speak so much good of her, I must desire you to present my respects to her. I will not fail, Giannetto answered; and now, let me entreat you to accept of some of the money. While he was speaking, the lawyer observed a ring on his finger, and said, if you give me this ring, I shall seek no other reward. Willingly, says Giannetto; but as it is a ring given me by my lady, to wear for her sake, I have some reluctance to part with it, and she, not seeing it on my finger, will believe that I have given it to a woman. Says the lawyer, She esteems you sufficiently to credit what you tell her, and you may say you made a present of it to me; but I rather think you want to give it to some former mistress here in Venice. So great, says Giannetto, is the love and reverence I bear to her, that I would not change her for any woman in the world. After this he takes the ring from his finger, and presents it to him. I have still a favour to ask, says the lawyer. It shall be granted, says Giannetto. It is, replied he, that you do not stay any time here, but go as soon as possible to your lady. It appears to me a thousand years till I see her, answered Giannetto; and immediately they take leave of each other. The lawyer embarked, and left Venice. Giannetto took leave of his Venetian friends, and carried Ansaldo with him, and some of his old acquaintance accompanied them. The lady arrived some days before, and having resumed her female habit, pretended to have spent the time at the baths; and now gave order to have the streets lined with tapestry: and when Giannetto and Ansaldo were landed, all the court went out to meet them. When they arrived at the palace, the lady ran to embrace Ansaldo, but feigned anger against Giannetto, though she loved him excessively; yet the feastings, tilts, and diversions went on as usual, at which all the lords and ladies were present. Giannetto seeing that his wife did not receive him with her accustomed good countenance, called her, and would have saluted her. She told him, she wanted none of his caresses: I am sure, says she, you have been lavish of them to some of your former mistresses. Giannetto began to make excuses. She asked him where was the ring she had given him: It is no more than what I expected, cries Giannetto: and was in the right to say you would be angry with me; but, I swear by all that is sacred, and by your dear self, that I gave the ring to the lawyer who gained our cause. And I can swear, says the lady, with as much solemnity, that you gave the ring to a woman: therefore swear no more. Giannetto protested that what he had told her was true, and that he said all this to the lawyer, when he asked for the ring. The lady replied, you would have done much better to stay at Venice with your mistresses, for I fear they all wept when you came away. Giannetto's tears began to fall, and in great sorrow he assured her, that what she supposed could not be true. The lady seeing his tears, which were daggers in her bosom, ran to embrace him, and in a fit of laughter showed the ring, and told him, that she was herself the lawyer, and how she obtained the ring. Giannetto was greatly astonished, finding it all true, and told the story to the nobles and to his companions; and this heightened greatly the love between him and his lady. He then called the damsel who had given him the good advice in the evening not to drink the liquor, and gave her to Ansaldo for a wife; and they spent the rest of their lives in great felicity and contentment. Ruggieri de Figiovanni took a resolution of going, for some time, to the court of Alfonso King of Spain. He was graciously received, and living there some time in great magnificence, and giving remarkable proofs of his courage, was greatly esteemed. Having frequent opportunities of examining minutely the behaviour of the king, he observed, that he gave, as he thought, with little discernment, castles, and baronies, to such who were unworthy of his favours; and to himself, who might pretend to be of some estimation, he gave nothing: he therefore thought the fittest thing to be done, was to demand leave of the king to return home. His request was granted, and the king presented him with one of the most beautiful and excellent mules, that had ever been mounted. One of the king's trusty servants was commanded to accompany Ruggieri, and riding along with him, to pick up, and recollect every word he said of the king, and then mention that it was the order of his sovereign, that he should go back to him. The man watching the opportunity, joined Ruggieri when he set out, said he was going towards Italy, and would be glad to ride in company with him. Ruggieri jogging on with his mule, and talking of one thing or other, it being near nine o'clock, told his companion, that they would do well to put up their mules a little; and as soon as they entered the stable, every beast, except his, began to stale. Riding on further they came to a river, and watering the beasts, his mule staled in the river: You untoward beast, says he, you are like your master, who gave you to me. The servant remembered this expression, and many others as they rode on all day together; but he heard not a single word drop from him, but what was in praise of the king. The next morning Ruggieri was told the order of the king, and instantly turned back. When the king had heard what he said of the mule, he commanded him into his presence, and with a smile, asked him, for what reason he had compared the mule to him. Ruggieri answered, My reason is plain, you give where you ought not to give, and where you ought to give, you give nothing; in the same manner the mule would not stale where she ought, and where she ought not, there she staled. The king said upon this, If I have not rewarded you as I have many, do not entertain a thought that I was insensible to your great merit; it is Fortune who hindered me; she is to blame, and not I; and I will show you manifestly that I speak truth. My discontent, sir, proceeds not, answered Ruggieri, from a desire of being enriched, but from your not having given the smallest testimony to my deserts in your service: nevertheless your excuse is valid, and I am ready to see the proof you mention, though I can easily believe you without it. The king conducted him to a hall, where he had already commanded two large caskets, shut close, to be placed: and before a large company, told Ruggieri, that in one of them was contained his crown, sceptre, and all his jewels; and that the other was full of earth: choose which of them you like best, and then you will see that it is not I, but your fortune that has been ungrateful. Ruggieri chose one. It was found to be the casket full of earth. The king said to him with a smile, Now you may see, Ruggieri, that what I told you of fortune was true; but for your sake, I will oppose her with all my strength. You have no intention, I am certain, to live in Spain, therefore I will offer you no preferment here; but that casket which fortune denied you, shall be yours in despite of her: carry it with you into your own country, show it to your friends and neighbours, as my gift to you; and you have my permission to boast, that it is a reward of your virtues. Of The Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction. The comick part raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of two actions in one event is in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the critick will find excelled by this play. Johnson. Of the incident of the bond, no English original has hitherto been pointed out. I find, however, the following in The Orator: handling a hundred severall Discourses, in form of Declamations: some of the Arguments being drawne from Titus Livius and other ancient Writers, the rest of the Author's own Invention: Part of which are of Matters happened in our Age.—Written in French by Alexander Silvayn, and Englished by L. P. [i. e. Lazarus Pilot.* [Subnote: *Lazarus Pyot, (not Pilot,) is Anthony Mundy. Ritson.] ] London, Printed by Adam Islip, 1596.—(This book is not mentioned by Ames.) See p. 401: “Declamation 95. “Of a Jew, who would for his debt have a pound of the flesh of a Christian. “A Jew, unto whom a Christian merchant ought nine hundred crownes, would have summoned him for the same in Turkie: the merchant, because he would not be discredited, promised to pay the said summe within the tearme of three months, and if he paid it not, he was bound to give him a pound of the flesh of his bodie. The tearme being past some fifteene daies, the Jew refused to take his money, and demaunded the pound of flesh: the ordinarie judge of that place appointed him to cut a just pound of the Christian's flesh, and if he cut more or lesse, then his own head should be smitten off: the Jew appealed from this sentence, unto the chiefe judge, saying: “Impossible is it to breake the credit of trafficke amongst men without great detriment of the commonwealth: wherefore no man ought to bind himselfe unto such covenants which hee cannot or will not accomplish, for by that means should no man feare to be deceaved, and credit being maintained, every man might be assured of his owne; but since deceit hath taken place, never wonder if obligations are made more rigorous and strict then they were wont, seeing that although bonds are made never so strong, yet can no man be very certaine that he shall not be a loser. It seemeth at the first sight that it is a thing no less strange than cruel, to bind a man to pay a pound of the flesh of his bodie, for want of money: surely, in that it is a thing not usuall, it appeareth to be somewhat the more admirable, but there are divers others that are more cruell, which because they are in use seeme nothing terrible at all: as to binde all the bodie unto a most lothsome prison, or unto an intolerable slaverie, where not only the whole bodie but also all the sences and spirits are tormented; the which is commonly practised, not only betwixt those which are either in sect or nation contrary, but also even amongst those that are of one sect and nation; yea amongst Christians it hath been seene that the son hath imprisoned the father for monie. Likewise in the Roman commonwealth, so famous for lawes and armes, it was lawful for debt to imprison, beat, and afflict with torment the free citizens: how manie of them (do you thinke) would have thought themselves happie, if for a small debt they might have been excused with the paiment of a pounde of their flesh? who ought then to marvile if a Jew requireth so small a thing of a Christian, to discharge him of a good round summe? A man may aske why I would not rather take silver of this man, then his flesh: I might alleage many reasons; for I might say that none but my selfe can tell what the breach of his promise hath cost me, and what I have thereby paied for want of money unto my creditors, of that which I have lost in my credit: for the miserie of those men which esteem their reputation, is so great, that oftentimes they had rather endure any thing secretlie, than to have their discredit blazed abroad, because they would not be both shamed and harmed: neverthelesse, I doe freely confesse, that I had rather lose a pound of my flesh then my credit should be in any sort cracked: I might also say, that I have need of this flesh to cure a friend of mine of a certaine maladie, which is otherwise incurable; or that I would have it to terrifie thereby the Christians for ever abusing the Jews once more hereafter: but I will onlie say, that by his obligation he oweth it me. It is lawfull to kill a souldier if he come unto the warres but an hour too late; and also to hang a theefe though he steal never so little: is it then such a great matter to cause such a one to pay a pound of his flesh, that hath broken his promise manie times, or that putteth another in danger to lose both credit and reputation, yea and it may be life, and al for griefe? were it not better for him to lose that I demand, then his soule, alreadie bound by his faith? Neither am I to take that which he oweth me, but he is to deliver it to me: and especiallie because no man knoweth better than he where the same may be spared to the least hurt of his person; for I might take it in such place as hee might thereby happen to lose his life: Whatte matter were it then if I should cut off his privie members, supposing that the same would altogether weigh a just pound? or els his head, should I be suffered to cut it off, although it were with the danger of mine own life? I believe, I should not; because there were as little reason therein, as there could be in the amends whereunto I should be bound: or els if I would cut off his nose, his lips, his ears, and pull out his eies, to make them altogether a pound, should I be suffered? surely I think not, because the obligation dooth not specifie that I ought either to choose, cut, or take the same, but that he ought to give me a pound of his flesh. Of every thing that is sold, he which delivereth the same is to make waight, and he which receiveth, taketh heed that it be just: seeing then that neither obligation, custome, nor law doth bind me to cut, or weigh, much lesse unto the above mentioned satisfaction, I refuse it all, and require that the same which is due should be delivered unto me.” “The Christian's Answere. “It is no strange matter to here those dispute of equitie which are themselves most unjust; and such as have no faith at all, desirous that others should observe the same inviolable; the which were yet the more tolerable, if such men would be contented with reasonable things, or at least not altogether unreasonable: but what reason is there that one man should unto his own prejudice desire the hurt of another? as this Jew is content to lose nine hundred crownes to have a pound of my flesh; whereby is manifestely seene the ancient and cruel hate which he beareth not only unto Christians, but unto all others which are not of his sect; yea, even unto the Turkes, who overkindly doe suffer such vermine to dwell amongst them: seeing that this presumptuous wretch dare not onely doubt, but appeale from the judgement of a good and just judge, and afterwards he would by sophisticall reasons prove that his abhomination is equitie. Trulie, I confesse that I have suffered fifteen daies of the tearme to passe; yet who can tell whether he or I is the cause thereof? as for me, I think that by secret meanes he hath caused the monie to be delaied, which from sundry places ought to have come unto me before the tearm which I promised unto him; otherwise, I would never have been so rash as to bind myselfe so strictly: but although he were not the cause of the fault, is it therefore said, that he ought to be so impudent as to go about to prove it no strange matter that he should be willing to be paied with man's flesh, which is a thing more natural for tigres, than men, the which also was never heard of? but this divell in shape of man, seeing me oppressed with necessitie, propounded this cursed obligation unto me. Whereas he alleageth the Romaines for an example, why doth he not as well tell on, how for that crueltie in afflicting debtors over grievously, the commonwealth was almost overthrowne, and that shortly after it was forbidden to imprison men any more for debt? To breake promise is, when a man sweareth or promiseth a thing, the which he hath no desire to performe, which yet upon an extreme necessity is somewhat excusable: as for me I have promised, and accomplished my promise, yet not so soon as I would; and although I knew the danger wherein I was to satisfie the crueltie of this mischievous man with the price of my flesh and blood, yet did I not flie away, but submitted my selfe unto the discretion of the judge who hath justly repressed his beastliness. Wherein then have I falsified my promise? is it in that I would not (like him) disobey the judgement of the judge? Behold I will present a part of my bodie unto him, that he may paie himselfe, according to the contents of the judgement: where is then my promise broken? But it is no marvaile if this race be so obstinat and cruell against us; for they do it of set purpose to offend our God whom they have crucified: and wherefore? Because he was holie, as he is yet so reputed of this worthy Turkish nation. But what shall I say? Their own Bible is full of their rebellion against God, against their priests, judges and leaders. What did not the very patriarchs themselves, from whom they have their beginning? They sold their brother, and had it not been for one amongst them, they had slain him for verie envie. How many adulteries and abhominations were committed amongst them? How many murthers? Absalom did he not cause his brother to be murthered? Did he not persecute his father? Is it not for their iniquitie that God hath dispersed them, without leaving them one onlie foot of ground? If then, when they had newlie received their law from God, when they saw his wonderous works with their eies, and had yet their judges amongst them, they were so wicked, what may one hope of them now, when they have neither faith nor law, but their rapines and usuries? and that they believe they do a charitable work, when they do some great wrong unto one that is not a Jew? It may please you then, most righteous judge, to consider all these circumstances, having pittie of him who doth wholly submit himselfe upon your just clemencie: hoping thereby to be delivered from this monster's crueltie.” Farmer. Gregorio Leti, in his Life of Sixtus V. translated by Ellis Farneworth, 1754, has likewise this kind of story. It was currently reported in Rome that Drake had taken and plundered S. Domingo in Hispaniola, and carried off an immense booty: this account came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very considerable merchant in the city, who had large concerns in those parts which he had insured. Upon the receiving this news he sent for the insurer Samson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him with it. The Jew, whose interest it was to have such a report thought false, gave many reasons why it could not possibly be true: and at last worked himself up into such a passion, that he said, “I'll lay you a pound of my flesh that it is a lie.” Secchi, who was of a fiery hot temper, replied, “If you like it, I'll lay you a thousand crowns against a pound of your flesh that it is true.” The Jew accepted the wager, and articles were immediately executed between them, the substance of which was, “That if Secchi won, he should himself cut the flesh with a sharp knife from whatever part of the Jew's body he pleased.” Unfortunately for the Jew, the truth of the account was soon after confirmed, by other advices from the West-Indies, which threw him almost into distraction; especially when he was informed that Secchi had solemnly sworn he would compel him to the exact literal performance of his contract, and was determined to cut a pound of flesh from that part of his body which it is not necessary to mention. Upon this he went to the governor of Rome and begged he would interpose in the affair, and use his authority to prevail with Secchi to accept of a thousand pistoles as an equivalent for the pound of flesh: but the governor not daring to take upon him to determine a case of so uncommon a nature, made a report of it to the pope, who sent for them both, and having heard the articles read, and informed himself perfectly of the whole affair from their own mouths, said, “When contracts are made, it is just they should be fulfilled, as we intend this shall. Take a knife, therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh from any part you please of the Jew's body. We would advise you, however, to be very careful; for if you cut but a scruple or grain more or less than your due, you shall certainly be hanged. Go, and bring hither a knife, and a pair of scales, and let it be done in our presence.” The merchant, at these words, began to tremble like an aspin-leaf, and throwing himself at his holiness's feet, with tears in his eyes, protested, “It was far from his thoughts to insist upon the performance of the contract.” And being asked by the pope what he demanded; answered, “Nothing, holy father, but your benediction, and that the articles may be torn in pieces.” Then turning to the Jew, he asked him, “What he had to say, and whether he was content.” The Jew answered, “That he thought himself extremely happy to come off at so easy a rate, and that he was perfectly content.”—“But we are not content,” replied Sixtus, “nor is there sufficient satisfaction made to our laws. We desire to know what authority you have to lay such wagers? The subjects of princes are the property of the state, and have no right to dispose of their bodies, nor any part of them, without the express consent of their sovereigns.” They were both immediately sent to prison, and the governor ordered to proceed against them with the utmost severity of the law, that others might be deterred by their example from laying any more such wagers.—[The governor interceding for them, and proposing a fine of a thousand crowns each, Sixtus ordered him to condemn them both to death, the Jew for selling his life, by consenting to have a pound of flesh cut from his body, which he said was direct suicide, and the merchant for premeditated murder, in making a contract with the other that he knew must be the occasion of his death.] As Secchi was of a very good family, having many great friends and relations, and the Jew one of the most leading men in the synagogue, they both had recourse to petitions. Strong application was made to Cardinal Montalto, to intercede with his holiness at least to spare their lives. Sixtus, who did not really design to put them to death, but to deter others from such practices, at last consented to change the sentence into that of the galleys, with liberty to buy off that too, by paying each of them two thousand crowns, to be applied to the use of the hospital which he had lately founded, before they were released. Life of Sixtus V. fol. b. vii. p. 293, &c. Steevens. In a Persian manuscript in the possession of Ensign Thomas Munro, of the first battalion of Sepoys, now at Tanjore, is found the following story of a Jew and a Mussulman. Several leaves being wanting both at the beginning and end of the MS. its age has not been ascertained. The translation, in which the idiom is Persian, though the words are English, was made by Mr. Munro, and kindly communicated to me (together with a copy of the original,) by Daniel Braithwaite, Esq.: “It is related, that in the town of Syria a poor Mussulman lived in the neighbourhood of a rich Jew. One day he went to the Jew, and said, Lend me 100 dinars, that I may trade with it, and I will give thee a share of the gain.—This Mussulman had a beautiful wife, and the Jew had seen and fallen in love with her, and thinking this a lucky opportunity, he said, I will not do thus, but I will give thee a hundred dinars, with this condition, that after six months thou shalt restore it to me. But give me a bond in this form, that if the term of the agreement shall be exceeded one day, I shall cut a pound of flesh from thy body, from whatever part I choose. The Jew thought that by this means he might perhaps come to enjoy the Mussulman's wife. The Mussulman was dejected, and said, How can this be? But as his distress was extreme, he took the money on that condition, and gave the bond, and set on a journey; and in that journey he acquired much gain, and he was every day saying to himself, God forbid that the term of the agreement should pass away, and the Jew bring vexation upon me. He therefore gave a hundred gold dinars into the hand of a trusty person, and sent him home to give it to the Jew. But the people of his own house, being without money, spent it in maintaining themselves. When he returned from his journey, the Jew required payment of the money, and the pound of flesh. The Mussulman said, I sent thy money a long time ago. The Jew said, Thy money came not to me. When this on examination appeared to be true, the Jew carried the Mussulman before the Cazi, and represented the affair. The Cazi said to the Mussulman, either satisfy the Jew, or give the pound of flesh. The Mussulman not agreeing to this, said, Let us go to another Cazi. When they went, he also spoke in the same manner. The Mussulman asked the advice of an ingenious friend. He said, “Say to him, let us go to the Cazi of Hems* [Subnote: *Hems-Emessa, a city of Syria, long 70, lat. 34. The Orientals say that Hippocrates made his ordinary residence there; and the Christians of that country have a tradition, that the head of St. John the Baptist was found there, under the reign of Theodosius the younger. This city was famous in the times of paganism for the Temple of the Sun, under the name of Heliogabalus, from which the Roman emperor took his name. It was taken from the Mussulmen by the Tartars, in the year of Christ 1098. Saladin retook it in 1187. The Tartars took it it in the year 1258. Afterwards it passed into the hands of the Mamalukes, and from them to the Turks, who are now in possession of it. This city suffered greatly by a most dreadful earthquake in 1157, when the Franks were in possession of Syria. Herbelot.] . Go there, for thy business will be well.” Then the Mussulman went to the Jew, and said, I shall be satisfied with the decree of the Cazi of Hems; the Jew said, I also shall be satisfied. Then both departed for the city of Hems* [Subnote: *Here follows the relation of a number of unlucky adventures in which the Mussulman is involved by the way; but as they only tend to show the sagacity of the Cazi in extricating him from them, and have no connection with Shylock, I have omitted them. T. M.] . When they presented themselves before the judgment-seat, the Jew said, O my Lord Judge, this man borrowed an hundred dinars of me, and pledged a pound of flesh from his own body. Command that he give the money and the flesh. It happened, that the Cazi was the friend of the father of the Mussulman, and for this respect, he said to the Jew, “Thou sayest true, it is the purport of the bond; and he desired, that they should bring a sharp knife. The Mussulman on hearing this, became speechless. The knife being brought, the Cazi turned his face to the Jew, and said, “Arise, and cut one pound of flesh from the body of him, in such a manner, that there may not be one grain more or less, and if more or less thou shalt cut, I shall order thee to be killed. The Jew said, I cannot. I shall leave this business and depart. The Cazi said, Thou mayest not leave it. He said, O Judge, I have released him. The Judge said, It cannot be; either cut the flesh, or pay the expence of his journey. It was settled at two hundred dinars: the Jew paid another hundred, and departed.” Malone. To the collection of novels, &c. wherein the plot of the foregoing play occurs, may be added another, viz. from “Roger Bontemps en Belle Humeur.” In the story here related of the Jew and the Christian, the Judge is made to be Solyman, Emperor of the Turks. See the edition of 1731, tom. ii. p. 105. So far Mr. Douce:—Perhaps this Tale (like that of Parnell's Hermit,) may have found its way into every language. Steevens.

Note return to page 337 This play was entered at Stationers' Hall, Oct 8, 1600, by Thomas Fisher. It is probable that the hint for it was received from Chaucer's Knight's Tale. There is an old black letter pamphlet by W. Bettie, called Titana and Theseus, entered at Stationers' Hall, in 1608; but Shakspeare has taken no hints from it. Titania is also the name of the Queen of the Fairies in Decker's Whore of Babylon, 1607. Steevens.

Note return to page 338 The Midsummer-Night's Dream I suppose to have been written in 1594. See An Attempt to ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays. Malone.

Note return to page 339 There are two quarto editions of this play in 1600; one by Thomas Fisher, the other by James Roberts. They are referred to in the margin by the initials quarto F. and quarto R. Boswell.

Note return to page 340 1The enumeration of persons was first made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 341 2Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.] The authenticity of this reading having been questioned by Dr. Warburton, I shall exemplify it from Chapman's translation of the 4th book of Homer; “&lblank; there the goodly plant lies withering out his grace.” Steevens. “&lblank; Ut piget annus “Pupillis, quos dura premit custodia matrum, “Sic mihi tarda fluunt ingrataque tempora.” Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 342 3&lblank; steep themselves in nights;] So, in Cymbeline, Act V. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; neither deserve, “And yet are steep'd in favours.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 *Quarto R. daies.

Note return to page 344 4New bent &lblank;] The old copies read—Now bent. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 345 5With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.] By triumph, as Mr. Warton has observed in his late editions of Milton's Poems, p. 56, we are to understand shows, such as masks, revels, &c. So, again, in King Henry VI. P. III.: “And now what rests, but that we spend the time “With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows, “Such as befit the pleasures of the court?” Again, in the preface to Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 1624: “Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, playes.” Jonson, as the same gentleman observes, in the title of his masque called Love's Triumph through Callipolis, by triumph seems to have meant a grand procession; and in one of the stage-directions, it is said, “the triumph is seen far off.” Malone. Thus also, (and more satisfactorily,) in the Duke of Anjou's Entertainment at Antwerp, 1581: “Yet notwithstanding, their triumphes [those of the Romans] have so borne the bell above all the rest, that the word triumphing, which cometh thereof, hath beene applied to all high, great, and statelie dooings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 346 6&lblank; our renowned duke!] Thus, in Chaucer's Knight's Tale: “Whilom as olde stories tellen us, “There was a Duk that highte Theseus, “Of Athenes he was lord and governour,” &c. Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 861. Lidgate too, the monk of Bury, in his translation of the Tragedies of John Bochas, calls him by the same title, ch. xii. l. 21: “Duke Theseus had the victorye.” Creon, in the tragedy of Jocasta, translated from Euripides in 1566, is called Duke Creon. So likewise Skelton: “Not like Duke Hamilcar, “Nor like Duke Asdruball.” Stanyhurst, in his translation of Virgil, calls Æneas, Duke Æneas; and in Heywood's Iron Age, Part II. 1632, Ajax is styled Duke Ajax, Palamedes, Duke Palamedes, and Nestor, Duke Nestor, &c. Our version of the Bible exhibits a similar misapplication of a modern title; for in Daniel iii. 2, Nebuchadonozar, King of Babylon, sends out a summons to the Sheriffs of his provinces. Steevens. See also the 1st Book of The Chronicles, ch. i. v. 51, & seqq. a list of the Dukes of Edom. Harris. Duke in our old language was used as dux, for a leader. The word is thus employed by Nicholls, in his translation of Thucydides, 1550, which was corrected in its progress by the learned Sir John Cheke, who would not have suffered a barbarism to remain. Boswell.

Note return to page 347 7This hath bewitch'd &lblank;] The old copies read—This man hath bewitch'd—. The emendation was made for the sake of the metre, by the editor of the second folio. It is very probable that the compositor caught the word man from the line above. Malone. As the reading, “This man hath bewitch'd,” is found in all the old copies, and as the two quartos were printed in the same year, abounding in variations, and probably sent forth by persons who were wishing to outrun each other at the press, it is surely improbable that they should chance upon the same error. A redundant syllable, at the commencement of a verse, perpetually occurs in our old dramatists. See the Essay upon Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 348 8&lblank; gawds,] i. e. baubles, toys, trifles. Our author has the word frequently. See King John, Act III. Sc. V. Again, in Appius and Virginia, 1576: “When gain is no grandsier, “And gaudes not set by,” &c. Again, in Drayton's Mooncalf: “&lblank; and in her lap “A sort of paper puppets, gauds and toys.” The Rev. Mr. Lambe, in his notes on the ancient metrical history of The Battle of Flodden, observes that a gawd is a child's toy, and that the children in the North call their play-things gowdys, and their baby-house a gowdy-house. Steevens.

Note return to page 349 9Or to her death; according to our law,] By a law of Solon's, parents had an absolute power of life and death over their children. So it suited the poet's purpose well enough, to suppose the Athenians had it before.—Or perhaps he neither thought nor knew any thing of the matter. Warburton.

Note return to page 350 1Immediately provided in that case.] Shakspeare is grievously suspected of having been placed, while a boy, in an attorney's office. The line before us has an undoubted smack of legal common-place. Poetry disclaims it. Steevens.

Note return to page 351 2To leave the figure, or disfigure it.] The sense is,—you owe to your father a being which he may at pleasure continue or destroy. Johnson.

Note return to page 352 3&lblank; to die the death,] So, in the second part of The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdom, 1601: “We will, my liege, else let us die the death.” See notes on Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 4Know of your youth,] Bring your youth to the question. Consider your youth. Johnson.

Note return to page 354 5For aye &lblank;] i. e. for ever. So, in K. Edward II. by Marlowe, 1622: “And sit for aye enthronized in heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 355 6But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,] Thus all the copies: yet earthlier is so harsh a word, and earthlier happy, for happier earthly, a mode of speech so unusual, that I wonder none of the editors have proposed earlier happy. Johnson. It has since been observed, that Mr. Pope did propose earlier. We might read—earthly happy. Steevens. Mr. Capell proposed to read earthly happier. Boswell. “&lblank; the rose distill'd.” So, in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “&lblank; You bee all young and faire, endeavour to bee wise and vertuous; that when, like roses, you shall fall from the stalke, you may be gathered, and put to the still.” This image, however, must have been generally obvious, as in Shakspeare's time the distillation of rose water was a common process in all families. Steevens. This is a thought in which Shakspeare seems to have much delighted. We meet with it more than once in his Sonnets. As in his fifth Sonnet: “&lblank; Flowers distilled, though they with winter meet, “Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.” So, in the fifty-fourth Sonnet: “The canker buds have full as deep a dye, “As the perfumed tincture of the roses, “Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, “When summer's breath their masqued buds discloses: “But for their virtue only is their show, “They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade: “Die to themselves; sweet roses do not so; “Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.” Malone.

Note return to page 356 7&lblank; whose unwished yoke &lblank;] Thus both the quartos 1600, and the folio 1623. The second folio reads— “&lblank; to whose unwished yoke &lblank;.” Steevens. Dele to, and for unwish'd r. unwished.—Though I have been in general extremely careful not to admit into my text any of the innovations made by the editor of the second folio, from ignorance of our poet's language or metre, my caution was here over-watched; and I printed the above lines as exhibited by that and all the subsequent editors, of which the reader was apprized in a note. The old copies should have been adhered to, in which they appear thus: “Ere I will yield my virgin patent up “Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke “My soul consents not to give sovereignty.” i. e. to give sovereignty to. See various instances of this kind of phraseology in a note on Cymbeline, scene the last. The change was certainly made by the editor of the second folio, from his ignorance of Shakspeare's phraseology. Malone. I have adopted the present elliptical reading, because it not only renders the line smoother, but serves to exclude the disgusting recurrence of the preposition—to; and yet if the authority of the first folio had not been supported by the quartos, &c. I should have preferred the more regular phraseology of the folio 1632. Steevens.

Note return to page 357 8You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.] I suspect that Shakspeare wrote: “Let me have Hermia; do you marry him.” Tyrwhitt. So, in K. Lear: “Let pride which she calls plainness marry her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 358 9&lblank; spotted &lblank;] As spotless is innocent, so spotted is wicked. Johnson.

Note return to page 359 1Beteem them &lblank;] Give them, bestow upon them. The word is used by Spenser. Johnson. “So would I, said th' enchanter, glad and fain “Beteem to you his sword, you to defend.” Fairy Queen. Again, in The Case is Alter'd. How? Ask Dalio and Milo, 1605: “I could beteeme her a better match.” But I rather think that to beteem, in this place, signifies (as in the northern counties) to pour out; from tommer, Danish. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 2The course of true love &lblank;] This passage seems to have been imitated by Milton, Paradise Lost, b. x.—896, & seqq. Malone.

Note return to page 361 3&lblank; too high to be enthrall'd to low!] Love—possesses all the editions, but carries no just meaning in it. Nor was Hermia displeas'd at being in love; but regrets the inconveniences that generally attend the passion; either, the parties are disproportioned, in degree of blood and quality; or unequal, in respect of years; or brought together by the appointment of friends, and not by their own choice. These are the complaints represented by Lysander; and Hermia, to answer to the first, as she has done to the other two, must necessarily say: “O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low!” So the antithesis is kept up in the terms; and so she is made to condole the disproportion of blood and quality in lovers. Theobald. The emendation is fully supported, not only by the tenour of the preceding lines, but by a passage in our author's Venus and Adonis, in which the former predicts that the course of love never shall run smooth: “Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend, “Ne'er settled equally, too high, or low,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 362 *So quartos; first folio, merit.

Note return to page 363 4&lblank; momentany as a sound,] Thus the quartos. The first folio reads—momentary. Momentany (says Dr. Johnson) is the old and proper word. Steevens. “&lblank; that short momentany rage,” is an expression of Dryden. Henley.

Note return to page 364 5Brief as the lightning in the collied night,] Collied, i. e. black, smutted with coal, a word still used in the midland counties. So, in Ben Jonson's Poetaster: “&lblank; Thou hast not collied thy face enough.” Steevens.

Note return to page 365 6That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say,—Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up:] Though the word spleen be here employed oddly enough, yet I believe it right. Shakspeare, always hurried on by the grandeur and multitude of his ideas, assumes every now and then, an uncommon licence in the use of his words. Particularly in complex moral modes it is usual with him to employ one, only to express a very few ideas of that number of which it is composed. Thus wanting here to express the ideas—of a sudden, or—in a trice, he uses the word spleen; which, partially considered, signifying a hasty sudden fit, is enough for him, and he never troubles himself about the further or fuller signification of the word. Here, he uses the word spleen for a sudden hasty fit: so just the contrary, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, he uses sudden for splenetic: “sudden quips.” And it must be owned this sort of conversation adds a force to the diction. Warburton.

Note return to page 366 7&lblank; fancy's followers.] Fancy is love. So afterwards in this play: “Fair Helena in fancy following me.” Steevens. So, in Turberville's Tragicall Tales: “The noblest nymphes that ever were alive, “The queyntest queenes the force of fancy felt.” Malone.

Note return to page 367 8From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;] Remote is the reading of both the quartos; the folio has—remov'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 *First folio, for.

Note return to page 369 9&lblank; his best arrow with the golden head;] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “&lblank; arrowes two, and tipt with gold or lead: “Some hurt, accuse a third with horny head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 370 1&lblank; by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,] Shakspeare had forgot that Theseus performed his exploits before the Trojan war, and consequently long before the death of Dido. Steevens.

Note return to page 371 2Demetrius loves your fair:] Fair is used again as a substantive in The Comedy of Errors, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; My decayed fair, “A sunny look of his would soon repair.” Again, in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “But what foul hand hath arm'd Matilda's fair?” Again, in A Looking-Glass for London and England, 1598: “And fold in me the riches of thy fair.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “Then tell me, love, shall I have all thy fair?” Again, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “Though she were false to Menelaus, yet her fair made him brook her follies.” Again: “Flora in tawny hid up all her flowers, “And would not diaper the meads with fair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 372 3Your eyes are lode-stars;] This was a complement not unfrequent among the old poets. The lode-star is the leading or guiding star, that is, the pole-star. The magnet is, for the same reason, called the lode-stone, either because it leads iron, or because it guides the sailor. Milton has the same thought in L'Allegro: “Towers and battlements it sees “Bosom'd high in tufted trees, “Where perhaps some beauty lies, “The cynosure of neighb'ring eyes.” Davies calls Queen Elizabeth: “Lode-stone to hearts, and lode-stone to all eyes.” Johnson. So, in the Spanish Tragedy: “Led by the loadstar of her heavenly looks.” Again, in The Battle of Alcazar, 1594: “The loadstar and the honour of our line.” Steevens.

Note return to page 373 4&lblank; O, were favour so!] Favour is feature, countenance. So, in Twelfth-Night, Act II. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; thine eye “Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 374 5Yours would I catch,] This emendation is taken from the Oxford edition. The old reading is—“Your words I catch.” Johnson.

Note return to page 375 6&lblank; to be to you translated.] To translate, in our author, sometimes signifies to change, to transform. So, in Timon: “&lblank; to present slaves and servants “Translates his rivals.” Steevens.

Note return to page 376 7His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.] The folio, and the quarto printed by Roberts, read: “His folly, Helena, is none of mine.” Johnson.

Note return to page 377 8None, but your beauty; 'Would that fault were mine!] I would point this line thus: “None.—But your beauty;—'Would that fault were mine!” Henderson.

Note return to page 378 9Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place.— Before the time I did Lysander see,] Perhaps every reader may not discover the propriety of these lines. Hermia is willing to comfort Helena, and to avoid all appearance of triumph over her. She therefore bids her not to consider the power of pleasing, as an advantage to be much envied or much desired, since Hermia, whom she considers as possessing it in the supreme degree, has found no other effect of it than the loss of happiness. Johnson.

Note return to page 379 *Quarto F. as.

Note return to page 380 1&lblank; faint primrose-beds &lblank;] Whether the epithet faint has reference to the colour or smell of primroses, let the reader determine. Steevens.

Note return to page 381 2Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet;] That is, emptying our bosoms of those secrets upon which we were wont to consult each other with so sweet a satisfaction. Heath. “Emptying our bosoms of their counsel swell'd; “There my Lysander and myself shall meet: “And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, “To seek new friends, and strange companions.” This whole scene is strictly in rhyme; and that it deviates in these two couplets, I am persuaded, is owing to the ignorance of the first, and the inaccuracy of the later editors. I have therefore ventured to restore the rhymes, as I make no doubt but the poet first gave them. Sweet was easily corrupted into swell'd, because that made an antithesis to emptying: and strange companions our editors thought was plain English; but stranger companies, a little quaint and unintelligible. Our author very often uses the substantive, stranger, adjectively; and companies to signify companions: as in Richard H. Act I.: “To tread the stranger paths of banishment.” And in Henry V.: “His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow.” Theobald. Dr. Warburton retains the old reading, and perhaps justifiably; for a bosom swell'd with secrets does not appear as an expression unlikely to have been used by our author, who speaks of a stuff'd bosom in Macbeth. In Lyly's Midas, 1592, is a somewhat similar expression: “I am one of those whose tongues are swell'd with silence.” Again, in our author's King Richard II.: “&lblank; the unseen grief “That swells in silence in the tortur'd soul.” “Of counsels swell'd” may mean—swell'd with counsels. Of and with, in other ancient writers have the same signification. See also, Macbeth—Note on— “Of Kernes and Gallow-glasses was supplied.” i. e. with them. In the scenes of King Richard II. there is likewise a mixture of rhyme and blank yerse. Mr. Tyrwhitt, however, concurs with Theobald. Though I have thus far defended the old reading, in deference to the opinion of other criticks I have given Theobald's conjectures a place in the text. Steevens. I think, sweet, the reading proposed by Theobald, is right. The latter of Mr. Theobald's emendations is likewise supported by Stowe's Annales, p. 291, edit. 1615: “The prince himself was faine to get upon the high altar, to girt his aforesaid companies with the order of knighthood.” Mr. Heath observes, that our author seems to have had the following passage in the 55th Psalm, (v. 14, 15,) in his thoughts: “But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend. We took sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 3&lblank; when Phœbe doth behold, &c. &lblank; deep midnight.] Shakspeare has a little forgotten himself. It appears from p. 175, that to-morrow night would be within three nights of the new moon, when there is no moonshine at all, much less at deep midnight. The same oversight occurs in Act III. Sc. I. Blackstone.

Note return to page 383 4&lblank; holding no quantity,] Quality seems a word more suitable to the sense than quantity, but either may serve. Johnson. Quantity is our author's word. So, in Hamlet, Act III. Sc. II.: “And women's fear and love hold quantity.” Steevens.

Note return to page 384 *Quarto R. omits so; first folio reads often.

Note return to page 385 5&lblank; in game &lblank;] Game here signifies not contentious play, but sport, jest. So Spenser: “&lblank; 'twixt earnest, and 'twixt game.” Johnson.

Note return to page 386 6&lblank; Hermia's eyne,] This plural is common both in Chaucer and Spenser. So, in Chaucer's Character of the Prioresse, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 152: “&lblank; his eyen grey as glass.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. iv. st. 9: “While flashing beams do dare his feeble eyen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 387 7&lblank; this hail &lblank;] Thus all the editions, except the 4to. 1600, printed by Roberts, which reads instead of this hail,—his hail. Steevens.

Note return to page 388 8&lblank; it is a dear expence:] i. e. it will cost him much, (be a severe constraint on his feelings,) to make even so slight a return for my communication. Steevens.

Note return to page 389 9In this scene Shakspeare takes advantage of his knowledge of the theatre, to ridicule the prejudices and competitions of the players. Bottom, who is generally acknowledged the principal actor, declares his inclination to be for a tyrant, for a part of fury, tumult, and noise, such as every young man pants to perform when he first steps upon the stage. The same Bottom, who seems bred in a tiring-room, has another histrionical passion. He is for engrossing every part, and would exclude his inferiors from all possibility of distinction. He is therefore desirous to play Pyramus, Thisbe, and the Lion, at the same time. Johnson.

Note return to page 390 1&lblank; the scrip.] A scrip, Fr. escript, now written ecrit. So, Chaucer, in Troilus and Cressida, l. 2. 1130: “Scripe nor bill.” Again, in Heywood's, If you know not me you know Nobody, 1606, Part II.: “I'll take thy own word without scrip or scroll.” Holinshed likewise uses the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 391 *First folio, grow on.

Note return to page 392 2&lblank; grow to a point.] Dr. Warburton reads—go on; but grow is used, in allusion to his name, Quince. Johnson. To grow to a point, I believe, has no reference to the name of Quince. I meet with the same kind of expression in Wily Beguiled: “As yet we are grown to no conclusion.” Again, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “Our reasons will be infinite, I trow, “Unless unto some other point we grow.” Steevens. “And so grow to a point.” The sense, in my opinion, hath been hitherto mistaken; and instead of a point, a substantive, I would read appoint, a verb, that is, appoint what part each actor is to perform, which is the real case. Quince first tells them the name of the play, then calls the actors by their names, and after that, tells each of them what part is set down for him to act. Perhaps, however, only the particle a may be inserted by the printer, and Shakspeare wrote to point, i. e. to appoint. The word occurs in that sense in a poem by N. B. 1614, called, I Would and I Would Not, stanza iii.: “To point the captains every one their fight.” Warner.

Note return to page 393 3&lblank; The most lamentable comedy, &c.] This is very probably a burlesque on the title page of Cambyses: “A lamentable Tragedie, mixed full of pleasant Mirth, containing, The Life of Cambises King of Percia,” &c. By Thomas Preston, bl. l. no date. On the registers of the Stationers' company, however, appears “the boke of Perymus and Thesbye,” 1562. Perhaps Shakspeare copied some part of his interlude from it. Steevens. A poem entitled Pyramus and Thisbe, by D. Gale, was published in 4to. in 1597; but this, I believe, was posterior to the Midsummer-Night's Dream. Malone. In A Handefull of Pleasant Delites by Clement Robinson, 1584, there is “a new sonet of Pyramus and Thisbie.” Boswell.

Note return to page 394 4A very good piece of work—and a merry.] This is designed as a ridicule on the titles of our ancient moralities and interludes. Thus Skelton's Magnificence is called “a goodly interlude and a mery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 395 5&lblank; spread yourselves.] i. e. stand separately, not in a group, but so that you may be distinctly seen, and called over. Steevens.

Note return to page 396 6&lblank; I will condole in some measure.] When we use this verb at present, we put with before the person for whose misfortune we profess concern. Anciently it seems to have been employed without it. So, in A Pennyworth of good Counsell, an ancient ballad: “Thus to the wall “I may condole.” Again, in Three Merry Coblers, another old song: “Poor weather beaten soles, “Whose case the body condoles.” Steevens.

Note return to page 397 7I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in,] In the old comedy of The Roaring Girl, 1611, there is a character called Tear-cat, who says: “I am called, by those who have seen my valour, Tear-cat.” In an anonymous piece called Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610, in six acts, a parcel of soldiers drag a company of players on the stage, and the captain says: “Sirrah, this is you that would rend and tear a cat upon a stage,” &c. Again, in The Isle of Gulls, a comedy by J. Day, 1606: “I had rather hear two such jests, than a whole play of such Tear-cat thunderclaps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 398 8&lblank; to make all split.] This is to be connected with the previous part of the speech; not with the subsequent rhymes. It was the description of a bully. In the second act of The Scornful Lady, we meet with “two roaring boys of Rome, that made all split.” Farmer. I meet with the same expression in The Widows Tears, by Chapman, 1612: “Her wit I must employ upon this business to prepare my next encounter, but in such a fashion as shall make all split.” Malone.

Note return to page 399 9And shivering shocks,] Dr. Farmer would read—With shivering shocks. Malone.

Note return to page 400 1&lblank; Ercles' vein,] The verses recited by Bottom were probably a quotation from an old play, founded on the labours of Hercules. A play called Hercules, written by Martin Slaughter, a comedian, was exhibited in 1595, by the Lord Admiral's and Lord Chamberlain's servants, and I suspect was formed on a still older piece. In Green's Groats-worth of Wit, 1592, a player who is introduced says: “The twelve labours of Hercules have I terribly thundered on the stage.” Malone.

Note return to page 401 2&lblank; the bellows-mender.] In Ben Jonson's Masque of Pan's Anniversary, &c. a man of the same profession is introduced. I have been told that a bellows-mender was one who had the care of organs, regals, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 402 3&lblank; as small, &c.] This passage shows how the want of women on the old stage was supplied. If they had not a young man who could perform the part with a face that might pass for feminine, the character was acted in a mask, which was at that time a part of a lady's dress so much in use, that it did not give any unusual appearance to the scene; and he that could modulate his voice in a female tone, might play the woman very successfully. It is observed in Downes's Roscius Anglicanus, that Kynaston, one of these counterfeit heroines, moved the passions more strongly than the women that have since been brought upon the stage. Some of the catastrophes of the old comedies, which make lovers marry the wrong women, are, by recollection of the common use of masks, brought nearer to probability. Johnson. Dr. Johnson here seems to have quoted from memory. Downes does not speak of Kynaston's performance in such unqualified terms. His words are—“It has since been disputable among the judicious, whether any woman that succeeded him, (Kynaston,) so sensibly touched the audience as he.” Reed. Prynne, in his Histriomastix, exclaims with great vehemence through several pages, because a woman acted a part in a play at Blackfryars in the year 1628. Steevens.

Note return to page 403 4&lblank; you must play Thisby's mother.] There seems a double forgetfulness of our poet, in relation to the characters of this interlude. The father and mother of Thisby, and the father of Pyramus, are here mentioned, who do not appear at all in the interlude; but Wall and Moonshine are both employed in it, of whom there is not the least notice taken here. Theobald. Theobald is wrong as to this last particular. The introduction of Wall and Moonshine was an after-thought. See Act III. Sc. I. It may be observed, however, that no part of what is rehearsed is afterwards repeated, when the piece is acted before Theseus. Steevens.

Note return to page 404 *So quartos; folio, there.

Note return to page 405 5&lblank; slow of study.] Study is still the cant term used in a theatre for getting any nonsense by rote. Hamlet asks the player if he can “study a speech.” Steevens. Steevens wrote this note to vex Garrick, with whom he had quarrelled. Study is not more a cant term than any other word of art, nor is it applied necessarily to nonsense. Malone.

Note return to page 406 *First folio omits you.

Note return to page 407 6&lblank; an 'twere any nightingale.] An means as if. So, in Troilus and Cressida:—“He will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April.” Steevens.

Note return to page 408 7&lblank; your perfect yellow.] Here Bottom again discovers a true genius for the stage by his solicitude for propriety of dress, and his deliberation which beard to choose among many beards, all unnatural. Johnson. So, in the old comedy of Ram-Alley, 1611: “What colour'd beard comes next by the window? “A black man's, I think; “I think, a red: for that is most in fashion.” This custom of wearing coloured beards, the reader will find more amply explained in Measure for Measure, Act IV. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 409 8&lblank; French crowns, &c.] That is, a head from which the hair has fallen in one of the last stages of the lues venerea, called the corona veneris. To this our poet has too frequent allusions. Steevens.

Note return to page 410 9&lblank; properties,] Properties are whatever little articles are wanted in a play for the actors, according to their respective parts, dresses and scenes excepted. The person who delivers them out is to this day called the property-man. In The Bassingbourne Roll, 1511, we find “garnements and propyrts.” See Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 326. Again, in Albumazar, 1615: “Furbo, our beards, “Black patches for our eyes, and other properties.” Again, in Westward-Hoe, 1607: “I'll go make ready my rustical properties.” Steevens.

Note return to page 411 1Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. &lblank; Hold, or cut bow-strings.] This proverbial phrase came originally from the camp. When a rendezvous was appointed, the militia soldiers would frequently make excuse for not keeping word, that their bow-strings were broke, i. e. their arms unserviceable. Hence when one would give another absolute assurance of meeting him, he would say proverbially—“hold or cut bow-strings”—i. e. whether the bow-strings held or broke. For cut is used as a neuter, like the verb fret. As when we say, the string frets, the silk frets, for the passive, it is cut or fretted. Warburton. This interpretation is very ingenious, but somewhat disputable. The excuse made by the militia soldiers is a mere supposition, without proof; and it is well known that while bows were in use, no archer ever entered the field without a supply of strings in his pocket; whence originated the proverb, to have two strings to one's bow. In The Country Girl, a comedy by T. B. 1647, is the following threat to a fiddler: “&lblank; fiddler, strike; “I'll strike you, else, and cut your begging bowstrings.” Again, in The Ball, by Chapman and Shirley, 1639: “&lblank; have you devices to jeer the rest? “Luc. All the regiment of 'em, or I'll break my bowstrings.” The bowstrings in both these instances may only mean the strings which make part of the bow with which musical instruments of several kinds are struck. The propriety of the allusion I cannot satisfactorily explain. Let the curious reader, however, consult Ascham's Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 38. b. Steevens. To meet, whether bowstrings hold or are cut, is to meet in all events. To cut the bowstring, when bows were in use, was probably a common practice of those who bore enmity to the archer. “He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, (says Don Pedro in Much Ado about Nothing,) and the little hangman dare not shoot at him.” Malone.

Note return to page 412 2Over hill, over dale, &c.] So Drayton, in his Nymphidia, or Court of Fairy: “Thorough brake, thorough brier, “Thorough muck, thorough mire, “Thorough water, thorough fire.” Johnson.

Note return to page 413 *So quarto H.; quarto R. and first folio, through.

Note return to page 414 *So quarto H.; quarto R. and first folio, through.

Note return to page 415 3&lblank; the moones sphere;] Unless we suppose this to be the Saxon genitive case, (as it is here printed,) the metre will be defective. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. i. st. 15: “And eke through feare as white as whales bone.” Again, in a letter from Gabriel Harvey to Spenser, 1580: “Have we not God hys wrath, for Goddes wrath, and a thousand of the same stampe, wherein the corrupte orthography in the most, hath been the sole or principal cause of corrupte prosodye in over-many?” The following passage, however, in the 3d book of Sidney's Arcadia, may suggest a different reading: “&lblank; what mov'd me to invite “Your presence, (sister deare,) first to my moony sphere?” Steevens. The passage from Harvey tends to overthrow the notion that the Saxon genitive was employed. If Goddes were pronounced as a dissyllable, it would have the same prosody as God hys. But with regard to this and similar verses, see the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 416 4To dew her orbs upon the green:] The orbs here mentioned are circles supposed to be made by the fairies on the ground, whose verdure proceeds from the fairies' care to water them. Thus, Drayton: “They in their courses make that round, “In meadows and in marshes found, “Of them so called the fairy ground.” Johnson. Thus, in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus: “&lblank; similes illis spectris, quæ in multis locis, præsertim nocturno tempore, suum saltatorium orbem cum omnium musarum concentu versare solent.” It appears from the same author, that these dancers always parched up the grass, and therefore it is properly made the office of the fairy to refresh it. Steevens.

Note return to page 417 5The cowslips tall her pensioners be;] The cowslip was a favourite among the fairies. There is a hint in Drayton of their attention to May morning: “&lblank; For the queen a fitting tower, “Quoth he, is that fair cowslip flower.— “In all your train there's not a fay “That ever went to gather May, “But she hath made it in her way, “The tallest there that groweth.” Johnson. This was said in consequence of Queen Elizabeth's fashionable establishment of a band of military courtiers, by the name of pensioners. They were some of the handsomest and tallest young men, of the best families and fortune, that could be found. Hence, says Mrs. Quickly, in The Merry Wives, Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners.” They gave the mode in dress and diversions.— They accompanied the Queen in her progress to Cambridge, where they held staff-torches at a play on a Sunday evening, in King's College Chapel. T. Warton.

Note return to page 418 6In their gold coats spots you see;] Shakspeare, in Cymbeline, refers to the same red spots: “A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops “I' th' bottom of a cowslip.” Percy. Perhaps there is likewise some allusion to the habit of a pensioner. See a note on the second Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor, Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 419 7And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.] The same thought occurs in an old comedy call'd The Wisdom of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600; i. e. the same year in which the first printed copies of this play made their appearance. An enchanter says: “'Twas I that led you through the painted meads “Where the light fairies danc'd upon the flowers, “Hanging on every leaf an orient pearl.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 8&lblank; lob of spirits,] Lob, lubber, looby, lobcock, all denote both inactivity of body and dulness of mind. Johnson, Both lob and lobcock are used as terms of contempt in The Rival Friends, 1632. Again, in the interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1568: “Should find Esau such a lout or a lob.” Again, in the second book of Homer, as translated by Arthur Hall, 1581: “&lblank; yet fewe he led, bycause he was a lobbe.” Again, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “There is a pretty tale of a witch that had the devil's mark about her, that had a giant to her son, that was called Lob-lye-by-the-fire.” This being seems to be of kin to the lubber-fiend of Milton, as Mr. Warton has remarked in his Observations on the Fairy Queen. Steevens.

Note return to page 421 9&lblank; changeling:] Changeling is commonly used for the child supposed to be left by the fairies, but here for a child taken away. Johnson. So, Spenser, b. i. c. x.: “And her base elfin brood there for thee left, “Such men do changelings call, so call'd by fairy theft.” Steevens. It is here properly used, and in its common acceptation; that is, for a child got in exchange. A fairy is now speaking. Ritson.

Note return to page 422 1&lblank; trace the forests wild:] This verb is used in the same sense in Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, b. ii. song ii. 1613: “In shepherd's habit seene “To trace our woods.” Again, in Milton's Comus, v. 423: “May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths.” Holt White.

Note return to page 423 2&lblank; sheen,] Shining, bright, gay. Johnson. So, in Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “&lblank; but why “Doth Phœbus' sister, sheen despise thy power?” Again, in the ancient romance of Syr Tryamoure, bl. l. no date: “He kyssed and toke his leave of the quene, “And of other ladies bright and shene.” Steevens.

Note return to page 424 3But they do square;] To square here is to quarrel. The French word contrecarrer has the same import. Johnson. So, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “&lblank; let me not seem rude, “That thus I seem to square with modesty.” “&lblank; pray let me go, for he'll begin to square,” &c. Again, in Promos and Cassandra, 1573: “Marry, she knew you and I were at square, “And lest we fell to blowes, she did prepare.” Steevens. It is somewhat whimsical, that the glasiers use the words square and quarrel as synonymous terms for a pane of glass. Blackstone.

Note return to page 425 4&lblank; Robin Good-fellow:] This account of Robin Good-fellow corresponds, in every article, with that given of him in Harsenet's Declaration, ch. xx. p. 134: “And if that the bowle of curds and creame were not duly set out for Robin Good-fellow, the frier, and Sisse the dairy-maid, why then either the pottage was burnt to next day in the pot, or the cheeses would not curdle, or the butter would not come, or the ale in the fat never would have good head. But if a Peeter-penny, or an housle-egge were behind, or a patch of tythe unpaid,—then 'ware of bull-beggars, spirits,” &c. He is mentioned by Cartwright [Ordinary, Act III. Sc. I.] as a spirit particularly fond of disconcerting and disturbing domestic peace and œconomy. T. Warton. Reginald Scot gives the same account of this frolicksome spirit, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft, Lond. 1584, 4to. p. 66: “Your grandames' maids were wont to set a bowl of milk for him, for his pains in grinding malt and mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight—this white bread and bread and milk, was his standing fee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 426 5That fright &lblank;] The old copies read—frights; and in grammatical propriety, I believe, this verb, as well as those that follow, should agree with the personal pronoun he, rather than with you. If so, our author ought to have written—frights, skims, labours, makes, and misleads. The other, however, being the more common usage, and that which he has preferred, I have corrected the former word. Malone.

Note return to page 427 6Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;] The sense of these lines is confused. Are not you he, (says the fairy,) that fright the country girls, that skim milk, work in the hand-mill, and make the tired dairy-woman churn without effect? The mention of the mill seems out of place, for she is not now telling the good, but the evil that he does. I would regulate the lines thus: And sometimes make the breathless housewife churn Skim milk, and bootless labour in the quern. Or, by a simple transposition of the lines: And bootless make the breathless housewife churn Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern. Yet there is no necessity of alteration. Johnson. Dr. Johnson thinks the mention of the mill out of place, as the Fairy is not now telling the good, but the evil he does. The observation will apply, with equal force, to his skimming the milk, which, if it were done at a proper time, and the cream preserved, would be a piece of service. But we must understand both to be mischievous pranks. He skims the milk, when it ought not to be skimmed:— (So, in Grim the Collier of Croydon: “But woe betide the silly dairy-maids, “For I shall fleet their cream-bowls night by night.”) and grinds the corn, when it is not wanted; at the same time perhaps throwing the flour about the house. Ritson. The charge against Puck is not that he skims the milk at an improper time, but that he steals the cream. Jonson says the same of Mab in his Entertainment at Althorpe: “This is Mab the mistress fairy, “That doth mighty rot the dairy, “And can hurt or help the churning, “As she please, without discerning.” Malone. A Quern is a hand-mill, kuerna, mola. Islandic. So, in Chaucer's Monkes Tale: “Wheras they made him at the querne grinde.” Again, in Stonyhurst's translation of the first book of Virgil, 1582, quern-stones are mill-stones: “Theyre corne in quern-stoans they do grind,” &c. Again, in The More the Merrier, a collection of epigrams, 1608: “Which like a querne can grind more in an hour.” Again, in the old Song of Robin Goodfellow, printed in the 3d volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: “I grind at mill, “Their malt up still,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 428 7&lblank; no barm;] Barme is a name for yeast, yet used in our midland counties, and universally in Ireland. So, in Mother Bombie, a comedy, 1594: “It behoveth my wits to work like barme, alias yeast.” Again, in The Humorous Lieutenant of Beaumont and Fletcher: “I think my brains will work yet without barm.” Steevens.

Note return to page 429 8Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck You do their work,] To these traditionary opinions Milton has reference in L'Allegro: “Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, “With stories told of many a feat, “How fairy Mab the junkets eat; “She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said, “And he by frier's lanthorn led; “Tells how the drudging goblin sweat “To earn his cream-bowl duly set, “When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, “His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn “That ten day-labourers could not end; “Then lies him down the lubber fiend.” A like account of Puck is given by Drayton, in his Nymphidia: “He meeteth Puck, which most men call “Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall.— “This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, “Still walking like a ragged colt, “And oft out of a bush doth bolt,   “Of purpose to deceive us; “And leading us makes us to stray, “Long winter's nights out of the way, “And when we stick in mire and clay,   “He doth with laughter leave us.” It will be apparent to him that shall compare Drayton's poem with this play, that either one of the poets copied the other, or, as I rather believe, that there was then some system of the fairy empire generally received, which they both represented as accurately as they could. Whether Drayton or Shakspeare wrote first, I cannot discover. Johnson. Gervase of Tilbury, speaking of the Portunus, a species of dæmon, says:—“Cum inter ambiguas noctis tenebras Angli solitarii equitant, Portunus nonnunquam invisus equitanti se copulat, et cum diutius comitatur euntem, tandem loris arreptis equum in lutum ad manum ducit, in quo dum infixus volutatur, Portunus exiens cachinnum facit, et sic hujuscemodi ludibrio humanam simplicitatem deridet.” See also Mr. Tyrwhitt on v. 6441, of the Cant. Tales of Chaucer. The same learned editor supposes Drayton to have been the follower of Shakspeare; for, says he, “Don Quixote (which was not published till 1605) is cited in the Nymphidia, whereas we have an edition of A Midsummer-Night's Dream in 1600.” In this century some of our poets have been as little scrupulous in adopting the ideas of their predecessors. In Gay's ballad, inserted in The What D'ye Call It, is the following stanza: “How can they say that nature   “Has nothing made in vain; “Why then beneath the water   “Should hideous rocks remain?” &c. &c. Compare this with a passage in Chaucer's Frankeleines Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. i. 11, 179, &c. “In idel, as men sain, ye nothing make, “But, lord, thise grisly fendly rockes blake,” &c. &c. And Mr. Pope is more indebted to the same author for beauties inserted in his Eloisa to Abelard, than he has been willing to acknowledge. Steevens. If Drayton wrote the Nymphidia after A Midsummer-Night's Dream had been acted, he could with very little propriety say: “Then since no muse hath been so bold, “Or of the later or the ould, “Those elvish secrets to unfold   “Which lye from others reading; “My active muse to light shall bring “The court of that proud fayry king, “And tell there of the revelling;   “Jove prosper my proceeding.” Holt White. Don Quixote, though published in Spain in 1605, was probably little known in England till Skelton's translation appeared in 1612. Drayton's poem was, I have no doubt, subsequent to that year. The earliest edition of it that I have seen, was printed in 1619. A copy of certain poems of this author, The Batail of Agincourt, Nymphidia, &c. published in 1627, which is in the collection of my friend Mr. Bindley, puts this matter beyond a doubt; for in one of the blank leaves before the book, the author has written as follows: “To the noble knight, my most honored ffrend, Sir Henry Willoughby, one of the selected patrons of thes my latest poems, from his servant, Mi. Drayton.” Malone. “&lblank; sweet Puck.” The epithet is by no means superfluous; as Puck alone was far from being an endearing appellation. It signified nothing better than fiend, or devil. So, the author of Pierce Ploughman puts the pouk for the devil, fol. lxxxx. B. v. penult. See also, fol. lxvii. v. 15: “none helle powke.” It seems to have been an old Gothic word. Puke, puken; Sathanas, Gudm. And. Lexicon Island. Tyrwhitt. In The Bugbears, an ancient MS. comedy in the possession of the Marquis of Lansdowne, I likewise met with this appellation of a fiend: “Puckes, puckerels, hob howlard by gorn and Robin Goodfelow.” Again, in The Scourge of Venus, or the Wanton Lady, with the rare Birth of Adonis, 1615: “Their bed doth shake and quaver as they lie,   “As if it groan'd to bear the weight of sinne; “The fatal night-crowes at their windowes flee,   “And cry out at the shame they do live in: “And that they may perceive the heavens frown, “The poukes and goblins pul the coverings down.” Again, in Spenser's Epithalamion, 1595: “Ne let house-fyres, nor lightning's helpelesse harms,   “Ne let the pouke, nor other evil spright, “Ne let mischievous witches with their charmes,   “Ne let hobgoblins,” &c. Again, in the ninth book of Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, edit. 1587, p. 126: “&lblank; and the countrie where Chymæra, that same pooke, “Hath goatish bodie,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 430 9Puck. Thou speak'st aright;] I would fill up the verse which I suppose the author left complete: I am, thou speak'st aright; It seems that in the fairy mythology, Puck, or Hobgoblin, was the trusty servant of Oberon, and always employed to watch or detect the intrigues of Queen Mab, called by Shakspeare, Titania. For in Drayton's Nymphidia, the same fairies are engaged in the same business. Mab has an amour with Pigwiggen: Oberon being jealous, sends Hobgoblin to catch them, and one of Mab's nymphs opposes him by a spell. Johnson.

Note return to page 431 1&lblank; a roasted crab;] i. e. a wild apple of that name. So, in the anonymous play of King Henry V. &c.: “Yet we will have in store a crab in the fire, “With nut-brown ale,” &c. Again, in Damon and Pythias, 1582: “And sit down in my chaire by my wife fair Alison, “And turne a crabbe in the fire,” &c. In Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600, Christmas is described as— “&lblank; sitting in a corner, turning crabs, “Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 432 2The wisest aunt,] Aunt is sometimes used for procuress. In Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575, the bawd Pandarina is always called aunt. “These are aunts of Antwerp, which can make twenty marriages in one week for their kinswoman.” See Winter's Tale, Act IV. Sc. I. Among Ray's proverbial phrases is the following: “She is one of mine aunts that made mine uncle to go a begging.” The wisest aunt may therefore mean the most sentimental bawd, or perhaps, the most prosaic old woman. Steevens. The first of these conjectures is much too wanton and injurious to the word aunt, which in this place at least certainly means no other than an innocent old woman. Ritson.

Note return to page 433 3And tailor cries,] The custom of crying tailor at a sudden fall backwards, I think I remember to have observed. He that slips beside his chair, falls as a tailor squats upon his board. The Oxford editor, and Dr. Warburton after him, read—and rails or cries, plausibly, but I believe not rightly. Besides, the trick of the fairy is represented as producing rather merriment than anger. Johnson.

Note return to page 434 4&lblank; hold their hips, and loffe;] So, in Milton's L'Allegro: “And laughter holding both his sides.” Steevens.

Note return to page 435 5And waxen &lblank;] And encrease, as the moon waxes. Johnson. A feeble sense may be extracted from the foregoing words as they stand; but Dr. Farmer observes to me that waxen is probably corrupted from yoxen, or yexen. Yoxe Saxon, to hiccup. Yyxyn. Singultio. Prompt. Parv. Thus in Chaucer's Reve's Tale, v. 4149: “He yoxeth, and he speaketh thurgh the nose.” Again, in the preface to XII. Mery Jestes of the Wyddow Edyth, 1575: “Beside the cough, a bloudy flyx, “And cuir among a deadly yex.” Again, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 27th book of Pliny, chap. v.: “&lblank; and also they do stay the excessive yex or hocket.” That yex, however, was a familiar word so late as the time of Ainsworth the lexicographer, is clear from his having produced it as a translation of the Latin substantive—singultus. The meaning of the passage before us will then be, that the objects of Puck's waggery laughed till their laughter ended in a yex or hiccup. It should be remembered, in support of this conjecture, that Puck is at present speaking with an affectation of ancient phraseology. Steevens.

Note return to page 436 6But room, Faery,] Thus the old copies. Some of our modern editors read—“But make room, Fairy.” The word Fairy, or Faery, was sometimes of three syllables, as often in Spenser. Johnson.

Note return to page 437 7Enter Oberon,] Oberon had been introduced on the stage in 1594, by some other author. In the Stationers' books is entered “The Scottishe Story of James the Fourthe, slain at Flodden, intermixed with a pleasant Comedie presented by Oberon, King of Fairies.” The judicious editor of The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, in his Introductory Discourse, (See vol. iv. p. 161,) observes that Pluto and Proserpina in the Merchant's Tale, appear to have been “the true progenitors of Oberon and Titania.” Steevens.

Note return to page 438 8Titania,] “As to the Fairy Queen, (says Mr. Warton, in his Observations on Spenser,) considered apart from the race of fairies, Chaucer, in his Rime of Sir Thopas, mentions her, together with a Fairy land. Again, in The Wif of Bathes Tale, v. 6439: “In olde dayes of the king Artour, “Of which that Bretons speken gret honour; “All was this lond fulfilled of faerie; “The Elf-quene, with hire joly compagnie “Danced ful oft in many a grene mede: “This was the old opinion as I rede.” Steevens.

Note return to page 439 *Folio, wast.

Note return to page 440 9Playing on pipes of corn,] Richard Brathwaite (Strappado for the Devil, 1615,) has a poem addressed “To the queen of harvest, &c. much honoured by the reed, corn-pipe, and whistle:” and it must be remembered, that the shepherd boys of Chaucer's time, had— “&lblank; many a floite and litling horne, “And pipés made of grené corne.” Ritson.

Note return to page 441 1&lblank; versing love &lblank;] Perhaps Prior was the last who employed this verb: “And Mat mote praise what Topaz verseth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 442 †Quarto, F. step.

Note return to page 443 2Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night &lblank;] The glimmering night is the night faintly illuminated by stars. In Macbeth our author says: “The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 444 3From Perigenia, whom he ravished?] Thus all the editors, but our author who diligently perused Plutarch, and gleaned from him, where his subject would admit, knew, from the life of Theseus, that her name was Perygine, (or Perigune,) by whom Theseus had his son Melanippus. She was the daughter of Sinnis, a cruel robber, and tormenter of passengers in the Isthmus. Plutarch and Athenæus are both express in the circumstance of Theseus ravishing her. Theobald. In North's translation of Plutarch (Life of Theseus) this lady is called Perigouna. The alteration was probably intentional, for the sake of harmony. Her real name was Perigune. Malone. Æglé, Ariadne, and Antiopa, were all at different times mistresses to Theseus. See Plutarch. Theobald cannot be blamed for his emendation; and yet it is well known that our ancient authors, as well as the French and the Italians, were not scrupulously nice about proper names, but almost always corrupted them. Steevens.

Note return to page 445 4And never, since the middle summer's spring, &c.] By the middle summer's spring, our author seems to mean the beginning of middle or mid summer. Spring, for beginning, he uses again in King Henry IV. Part II.: “As flaws congealed in the spring of day:” which expression has authority from the scripture, St. Luke, i. 78: “&lblank; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us.” Again, in the romance of Kyng Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “&lblank; arose in a mornynge at the sprynge of the day,” &c. Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. x.: “He wooed her till day-spring he espyde.” Steevens. So Holinshed, p. 494: “&lblank; the morrowe after about the spring of the daie &lblank;.” Malone. The middle summer's spring, is, I apprehend the season when trees put forth their second, or, as they are frequently called, their midsummer shoots. Thus, Evelyn in his Silva: “Cut off all the side boughs, and especially at midsummer, if you spy them breaking out.” And again, “Where the rows and brush lie longer than midsummer, unbound, or made up, you endanger the loss of the second spring.” Henley.

Note return to page 446 5Paved fountain,] A fountain laid round the edge with stone. Johnson. Perhaps paved at the bottom. So, Lord Bacon in his Essay on Gardens: “As for the other kind of fountaine, which we may call a bathing-poole, it may admit much curiosity and beauty . . . . As that the bottom be finely paved . . . . the sides likewise,” &c. Steevens. The epithet seems here intended to mean no more than that the beds of these fountains were covered with pebbles, in opposition to those of the rushy brooks which are oozy. The same expression is used by Sylvester in a similar sense: “By some cleare river's lillie-paved side.” Henley.

Note return to page 447 6Or on the beached margent &lblank;] The old copies read—Or in. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 448 7&lblank; the winds, piping &lblank;] So, Milton: “While rocking winds, are piping loud.” Johnson. And Gawin Douglas, in his translation of the Æneid, p. 69, 1710, fol. Edinb. “The soft piping wynd calling to se.” The Glossographer observes, “we say a piping wind, when an ordinary gale blows, and the wind is neither too loud nor too calm.” Holt White.

Note return to page 449 8&lblank; pelting river &lblank;] Thus the quartos: the folio reads— petty. Shakspeare has in Lear the same word, low pelting farms. The meaning is plainly, despicable, mean, sorry, wretched; but as it is a word without any reasonable etymology, I should be glad to dismiss it for petty: yet it is undoubtedly right. We have “petty pelting officer” in Measure for Measure. Johnson. So, in Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575: “Doway is a pelting town pack'd full of poor scholars.” This word is always used as a word of contempt. So, again, in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “&lblank; attire never used but of old women and pelting priests.” Steevens.

Note return to page 450 9&lblank; overborne their continents:] Borne down the banks that contain them. So, in Lear: “&lblank; close pent up guilts, “Rive your concealing continents!” Johnson.

Note return to page 451 1&lblank; and the green corn Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:] So, in our author's 12th Sonnet: “And summer's green, all girded up in sheaves, “Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard.” Malone.

Note return to page 452 2&lblank; murrain flock;] The murrain is the plague in cattle. It is here used by Shakspeare as an adjective; as a substantive by others: “&lblank; sends him as a murrain “To strike our herds; or as a worser plague, “Your people to destroy.” Heywood's Silver Age, 1613. Steevens.

Note return to page 453 3The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud;] In that part of Warwickshire where Shakspeare was educated, and the neighbouring parts of Northamptonshire, the shepherds and other boys dig up the turf with their knives to represent a sort of imperfect chess-board. It consists of a square, sometimes only a foot diameter, sometimes three or four yards. Within this is another square, every side of which is parallel to the external square; and these squares are joined by lines drawn from each corner of both squares, and the middle of each line. One party, or player, has wooden pegs, the other stones, which they move in such a manner as to take up each other's men as they are called, and the area of the inner square is called the pound, in which the men taken up are impounded. These figures are by the country people called Nine Men's Morris, or Merrils; and are so called, because each party has nine men. These figures are always cut upon the green turf or leys, as they are called, or upon the grass at the end of ploughed lands, and in rainy seasons never fail to be choaked up with mud. James. See Peck on Milton's Masque, 115, vol. i. p. 135. Steevens. Nine men's morris is a game still played by the shepherds, cow-keepers, &c. in the midland counties, as follows: A figure is made on the ground (like this which I have drawn) by cutting out the turf; and two persons take each nine stones, which they place by turns in the angles, and afterwards move alternately, as at chess or draughts. He who can place three in a straight line, may then take off any one of his adversary's, where he pleases, till one, having lost all his men, loses the game. Alchorne. In Cotgrave's Dictionary, under the article Merelles, is the following explanation: “Le Jeu des Merelles. The boyish game called Merils, or fivepenny morris; played here most commonly with stones, but in France with pawns, or men made on purpose, and termed merelles.” The pawns or figures of men used in the game might originally be black, and hence called morris, or merelles, as we yet term a black cherry a morello, and a small black cherry a merry, perhaps from Maurus or Moor, or rather from morum, a mulberry. Tollet. The jeu de merelles was also a table-game. A representation of two monkies engaged at this amusement, may be seen in a German edition of Petrarch de remedio utriusque fortunæ, b. i. ch. 26. The cuts to this book were done in 1520. Douce.

Note return to page 454 4&lblank; the quaint maizes in the wanton green,] This alludes to a sport still followed by boys; i. e. what is now called running the figure of eight. Steevens.

Note return to page 455 5The human mortals &lblank;] Shakspeare might have employed this epithet, which, at first sight, appears redundant, to mark the difference between men and fairies. Fairies were not human, but they were yet subject to mortality. It appears from the romance of Sir Huon of Bordeaux, that Oberon himself was mortal. The same phrase, however, occurs in Chapman's translation of Homer's address to Earth, the mother of all: “&lblank; referr'd to thee “For life and death, is all the pedigree “Of mortal humans.” Steevens. “This, however, (says Mr. Ritson,) does not by any means appear to be the case. Oberon, Titania, and Puck, never die; the inferior agents must necessarily be supposed to enjoy the same privilege; and the ingenious commentator may rely upon it, that the oldest woman in England never heard of the death of a Fairy. Human mortals is, notwithstanding, evidently put in opposition to fairies who partook of a middle nature between men and spirits.” It is a misfortune, as well to the commentators as to the readers of Shakspeare, that so much of their time is obliged to be employed in explaining and contradicting unfounded conjectures and assertions. Spenser in his Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. x. says, (I use the words of Mr. Warton; Observations on Spenser, vol. i. p. 55,) “That man was first made by Prometheus, was called Elfe, who wandering over the world, at length arrived at the gardens of Adonis, where he found a female whom he called Fay.—The issue of Elfe and Fay were called Fairies, who soon grew to be a mighty people, and conquered all nations. Their eldest son Elfin governed America, and the next to him, named Elfinan, founded the city of Cleopolis, which was enclosed with a golden wall by Elfinine. His son Elfin overcame the Gobbelines; but of all fairies, Elfant was the most renowned, who built Panthea of chrystal. To these succeeded Elfar, who slew two brethren giants; and to him Elfinor, who built a bridge of glass over the sea, the sound of which was like thunder. At length, Elficleos ruled the Fairy-land with much wisdom, and highly advanced its power and honour: he left two sons, the eldest of which, fair Elferon, died a premature death, his place being supplied by the mighty Oberon; a prince, whose ‘wide memorial’ still remains; who dying left Tanaquil to succeed him by will, she being also called Glorian or Gloriana.” I transcribe this pedigree, merely to prove that in Shakspeare's time the notion of Fairies dying was generally known. Reed. Mr. Reed might here have added the names of many divines and philosophers, whose sentiments coincide with his own position on this subject: “&lblank; post prolixum tempus moriuntur omnes:” i. e. aerial and familiar spirits, &c. were all mortal. See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 42. Steevens.

Note return to page 456 6&lblank; their winter here;] Here, in this country.—I once inclined to receive the emendation proposed by Mr. Theobald, and adopted by Sir T. Hanmer,—their winter cheer; but perhaps alteration is unnecessary. “Their winter” may mean those sports with which country people are wont to beguile a winter's evening, at the season of Christmas, which, it appears from the next line, was particularly in our author's contemplation: “The wery winter nights restore the Christmas games, “And now the seson doth invite to banquet townish dames.” Romeus and Juliet, 1562. Malone. I have already expressed my opinion, that winter-cheer is the true reading; and am confirmed in it by the following passage in Fletcher's Prophetess, where the shepherd says: “Our evening dances on the green, our songs, “Our holiday good cheer; our bagpipes now, boys, “Shall make the wanton lasses skip again!” M. Mason.

Note return to page 457 7No night is now with hymn or carol blest:] Since the coming of Christianity, this season, [winter,] in commemoration of the birth of Christ, has been particularly devoted to festivity. And to this custom, notwithstanding the impropriety, hymn or carol blest certainly alludes. Warburton. Hymns and carols, in the time of Shakspeare, during the season of Christmas, were sung every night about the streets, as a pretext for collecting money from house to house. Steevens.

Note return to page 458 8That rheumatick diseases do abound:] Rheumatick diseases signified in Shakspeare's time, not what we now call rheumatism, but distillations from the head, catarrhs, &c. So, in a paper entitled “The State of Sir H. Sydney's Bodie, &c. Feb. 1567;” Sydney's Memorials, vol. i. p. 94: “&lblank; he hath verie much distempered diverse parts of his bodie, as namely, his hedde, his stomach, &c. and thereby is always subject to coughes, distillations, and other rumatic diseases.” Malone. “Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,” &c. The repeated adverb therefore, throughout this speech, I suppose to have constant reference to the first time when it is used. All these irregularities of season happened in consequence of the disagreement between the king and queen of the fairies, and not in consequence of each other. Ideas crouded fast on Shakspeare; and as he committed them to paper, he did not attend to the distance of the leading object from which they took their rise. Mr. Malone concurs with me on this occasion. That the festivity and hospitality attending Christmas, decreased, was the subject of complaint to many of our ludicrous writers. Among the rest to Nash, whose comedy called Summer's Last Will and Testament, made its first appearance in the same year with this play, viz. 1600. There Christmas is introduced, and Summer says to him: “Christmas, how chance thou com'st not as the rest, “Accompanied with some music or some song? “A merry carrol would have grac'd thee well, “Thy ancestors have us'd it heretofore. “Christmas. Ay, antiquity was the mother of ignorance,” &c. and then proceeds to give reasons for such a decay in mirth and house-keeping. The confusion of seasons here described, is no more than a poetical account of the weather, which happened in England about the time when the Midsummer-Night's Dream was written. For this information I am indebted to chance, which furnished me with a few leaves of an old meteorological history. The date of the piece, however, may be better determined by a description of the same weather in Churchyard's Charitie, 1595, when, says he, “a colder season, in all sorts, was never seene.” He then proceeds to say the same over again in rhyme: “A colder time in world was neuer seene: “The skies do lowre, the sun and moone waxe dim; “Sommer scarce knowne but that the leaues are greene. “The winter's waste driues water ore the brim; “Upon the land great flotes of wood may swim. “Nature thinks scorne to do hir dutie right, “Because we have displeasde the Lord of Light.” Let the reader compare these lines with Shakspeare's, and he will find that they are both descriptive of the same weather and its consequences. Churchyard is not enumerating, on this occasion, fictitious but real misfortunes. He wrote the present poem to excite Charity on his own behalf; and among his other sufferings very naturally dwelt on the coldness of the season, which his poverty had rendered the less supportable. L'Allegro, and II Penscroso, will naturally impute one incident to different causes. Shakspeare, in prime of life and success, fancifully ascribes this distemperature of seasons to a quarrel between the playful rulers of the fairy world; while Churchyard, broken down by age and misfortunes, is seriously disposed to represent the same inclemency of weather, as a judgement from the Almighty on the offences of mankind. Steevens. “Therefore the moon, the governess of the floods,” &c. This line has no immediate connection with that preceding it (as Dr. Johnson seems to have thought). It does not refer to the omission of hymns or carols, but of the fairy rites, which were disturbed in consequence of Oberon's quarrel with Titania. The moon is with peculiar propriety represented as incensed at the cessation— not of the carols, (as Dr. Warburton thinks,) nor of the heathen rites of adoration, (as Dr. Johnson supposes,) but of those sports, which have been always reputed to be celebrated by her light. As the whole passage has been much misunderstood, it may be proper to observe, that Titania begins with saying: “And never, since the middle summer's spring, “Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,— “But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.” She then particularly enumerates the several consequences that have flowed from their contention. The whole is divided into four clauses: 1. “Therefore the winds, &c. “That they have overborne their continents: 2. “The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain; “The ploughman lost his sweat;— “No night is now with hymn or carol blest; 3. “Therefore the moon—washes all the air, “That rheumatick diseases do abound: 4. “And, thorough this distemperature, we see, “The seasons alter;— “&lblank; and the 'mazed world, “By their increase, now knows not which is which: “And this same progeny of evils comes “From our debate, from our dissention.” In all this there is no difficulty. All these calamities are the consequences of the dissention between Oberon and Titania; as seems to be sufficiently pointed out by the word therefore, so often repeated. Those lines which have it not, are evidently put in apposition with the preceding line in which that word is found. Malone.

Note return to page 459 9&lblank; this distemperature,] Is, this perturbation of the elements. Steevens. By distemperature, I imagine is meant, in this place, the perturbed state in which the king and queen had lived for some time past. Malone. Perhaps Mr. Malone has truly explained the force of the word in question. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thou art up-rous'd by some distemperature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 460 1Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;] To have “snow in the lap of June,” is an expression used in Northward Hoe, 1607, and Shakspeare himself in Coriolanus, talks of the “consecrated snow that lies on Dian's lap:” and Spenser in his Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. ii. has: “And fills with flow'rs fair Flora's painted lap.” Steevens. This thought is elegantly expressed by Goldsmith in his Traveller: “And winter lingering chills the lap of May.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 461 2&lblank; Hyems' chin,] Dr. Grey, not inelegantly, conjectures, that the poet wrote: &lblank; on old Hyems' chill and icy crown. It is not indeed easy to discover how a chaplet can be placed on the chin. Steevens. I believe this peculiar image of Hyem's chin must have come from Virgil, (Æneid iv. 253,) through the medium of the translation of the day; “&lblank; tum flumina mento “Precipitant senis, et glacie riget horrida barba.” S. W. Thus translated by Phaer, 1561: “And from his hoary beard adowne, “The streames of waters fall; with yce and frost his face doth frowne.” This singular image was, I believe, suggested to our poet by Golding's translation of Ovid, book ii.: “And lastly, quaking for the colde, stood Winter all forlorne, “With rugged head as white as dove, and garments all to torne, “Forladen with the isycles, that dangled up and downe “Upon his gray and hoarie beard, and snowie frozen crown.” Malone. I should rather be for thin, i. e. thin-hair'd. Tyrwhitt. So, Cordelia, speaking of Lear: “&lblank; to watch, poor perdu! “With this thin helm.” Again, in King Richard II.: “White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps “Against thy majesty;—” Steevens. Thinne is nearer to chinne (the spelling of the old copies) than chill), and therefore, I think, more likely to have been the author's word. Malone.

Note return to page 462 3The childing autumn,] Is the pregnant autumn, frugifer autumnus. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “Fifty in number childed all one night.” Again, in his Golden Age, 1611: “I childed in a cave remote and silent.” Again, in his Silver Age, 1613: “And at one instant he shall child two issues.” There is a rose called the childing rose. Steevens. Again, in Tasso's Godfrey of Bulloigne, by Fairfax, b. xviii. st. 26: “An hundreth plants beside (even in his sight) “Childed an hundreth nymphes so great, so dight.” Childing is an old term in botany, when a small flower grows out of a large one: “the childing autumn,” therefore means the autumn which unseasonably produces flowers on those of summer. Florists have also a childing daisy, and a childing scabious. Holt White.

Note return to page 463 4By their increase,] That is, By their produce. Johnson. So, in our author's 97th Sonnet: “The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, “Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime.” The latter expression is scriptural: “Then shall the earth bring forth her increase, and God, even our God, shall give us his blessing.” Psalm lxvii. Malone.

Note return to page 464 5&lblank; henchman.] Page of honour. This office was abolished by Queen Elizabeth. Grey. This office might be abolished at court, but probably remained in the city. Glapthorne, in his comedy called Wit in a Constable, 1640, has this passage: “&lblank; I will teach his hench-boys, “Serjeants, and trumpeters to act, and save “The city all that charges.” So, again: “When she was lady may'ress, and you humble “As her trim hench-boys.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Christmas Masque: “&lblank; he said grace as well as any of the sheriff's hench-boys.” Skinner derives the word from Hine A. S. quasi domesticus famulus. Spelman from Hengstman, equi curator, &grir;&grp;&grp;&gro;&grk;&gro;&grm;&gro;&grst;. Steevens. In a letter to the Earl of Shrewsbury dated 11th of December, 1565, it is said: “Her Highness (i. e. Queen Elizabeth) hathe of late, whereat some do muche marvell, dissolved the auncient office of Henchemen.” (Lodge's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 358.) On this passage Mr. Lodge observes that Henchmen were “a certain number of youths, the sons of gentlemen, who stood or walked near the person of the monarch on all public occasions. They are mentioned in the sumptuary statutes of the 4th of Edward the Fourth, and 24th of Henry VIII. and a patent is preserved in the Fœdera, vol. xv. 242, whereby Edward VI. gives to William Bukley, M. A. “propter gravitatem morum et doctrinæ abundantiam, officium docendi, erudiendi, atque instituendi adolescentulos vocatos Henchmen;” with a salary of 40l. per annum. Henchmen, or Heinsmen, is a German word, as Blount informs us in his Glossographia, signifying a domestick, whence our ancient term hind, a servant in the house of a farmer. Dr. Percy, in a note on the Earl of Northumberland's household-book, with less probability, derives the appellation from their custom of standing by the side, or Haunch, of their Lord. Reed. Upon the establishment of the household of Edward IV. were “henxmen six enfants, or more, as it pleyseth the king, eatinge in the halle,” &c. There was also “a maister of the henxmen, to shewe them the schoole of nurture, and learne them to ride, to wear their harnesse; to have all curtesie—to teach them all languages, and other virtues, as harping, pipynge, singing, dauncing, with honest behavioure of temperaunce and patyence.” MS. Harl. 293. “At the funeral of Henry VIII. nine henchmen attended with Sir Francis Bryan, master of the henchmen.” Strype's Eccl. Mem. v. 2. App. n. 1. Tyrwhitt. &lblank; Henchman.” Quasi haunch-man. One that goes behind another. Pedisequus. Blackstone. The learned commentator might have given his etymology some support from the following passage in King Henry IV. P. II. Act IV. Sc. IV.: “O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, “Which ever in the haunch of winter sings “The lifting up of day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 465 6And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind;] Dryden, in his translation of the 1st book of Homer's Iliad (and Pope after him) were perhaps indebted to the foregoing passage: “&lblank; winds suffic'd the sail “The bellying canvas strutted with the gale.” Dryden. “&lblank; indulgent gales “Supply'd by Phœbus, fill the swelling sails, “The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow.” Pope. Steevens. Why the wind was termed wanton we may learn from Othello: “The bawdy wind that kisseth all it meets.” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind.” Malone.

Note return to page 466 7Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, Following (her womb, then rich with my young 'squire,) Would imitate &lblank;] Perhaps the parenthesis should begin sooner; as I think Mr. Kenrick observes: “(Following her womb, then rich with my young 'squire.)” So, in Trulla's combat with Hudibras: “&lblank; She press'd so home, “That he retired, and follow'd's bum.” And Dryden says of his Spanish Friar, “his great belly walks in state before him, and his gouty legs come limping after it.” Farmer. This passage, thus printed, appears to me ridiculous. Every woman who walks forward must follow her womb. The absurdity is avoided by leaving the word—following out of the parenthesis. Warburton's grammatical objection has no foundation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 467 8Not for thy kingdom.—Fairies, away:] The ancient copies read: “Not for thy fairy kingdom.—Fairies, away.” By the advice of Dr. Farmer I have omitted the useless adjective fairy, as it spoils the metre; Fairies, the following substantive, being apparently used, in an earlier instance, as a trisyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 468 9&lblank; Thou remember'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's musick.] The first thing observable on these words is, that this action of the mermaid is laid in the same time and place with Cupid's attack upon the vestal. By the vestal every one knows is meant Queen Elizabeth. It is very natural and reasonable then to think that the mermaid stands for some eminent personage of her time. And if so, the allegorical covering, in which there is a mixture of satire and panegyric, will lead us to conclude that this person was one of whom it had been inconvenient for the author to speak openly, either in praise or dispraise. All this agrees with Mary Queen of Scots, and with no other. Queen Elizabeth could not bear to hear her commended; and her successor would not forgive her satirist. But the poet has so well marked out every distinguished circumstance of her life and character in this beautiful allegory, as will leave no room to doubt about his secret meaning. She is called a mermaid, 1. To denote her reign over a kingdom situate in the sea, and 2. her beauty, and intemperate lust: “&lblank; Ut turpiter atrum “Desinat in piscem mulier formosa supernè.” for as Elizabeth for her chastity is called a vestal, this unfortunate lady on a contrary account is called a mermaid. 3. An ancient story may be supposed to be here alluded to. The emperor Julian tells us, Epistle 41, that the Sirens (which, with all the modern poets, are mermaids,) contended for precedency with the muses, who, overcoming them, took away, their wings. The quarrels between Mary and Elizabeth had the same cause, and the same issue. “&lblank; on a dolphin's back.” This evidently marks out that distinguishing circumstance of Mary's fortune, her marriage with the dauphin of France, son of Henry II. “Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath.” This alludes to her great abilities of genius and learning, which rendered her the most accomplished princess of her age. The French writers tell us, that, while she was in that court, she pronounced a Latin oration in the great hall of the Louvre, with so much grace and eloquence, as filled the whole court with admiration. “That the rude sea grew civil at her song.” By the rude sea is meant Scotland encircled with the ocean; which rose up in arms against the regent, while she was in France. But her return home presently quieted those disorders: and had not her strange ill conduct afterwards more violently inflamed them, she might have passed her whole life in peace. There is the greater justness and beauty in this image, as the vulgar opinion is, that the mermaid always sings in storms: “And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, “To hear the sea-maid's musick.” This concludes the description, with that remarkable circumstance of this unhappy lady's fate, the destruction she brought upon several of the English nobility, whom she drew in to support her cause. This, in the boldest expression of the sublime, the poet images by certain stars shooting madly from their spheres: By which he meant the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, who fell in her quarrel; and principally the great Duke of Norfolk, whose projected marriage with her was attended with such fatal consequences. Here again the reader may observe a peculiar justness in the imagery. The vulgar opinion being that the mermaid allured men to destruction with her songs. To which opinion Shakspeare alludes in his Comedy of Errors: “O train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, “To drown me in thy sisters flood of tears.” On the whole, it is the noblest and justest allegory that was ever written. The laying it in fairy land, and out of nature, is in the character of the speaker. And on these occasions Shakspeare always excels himself. He is borne away by the magic of his enthusiasm, and hurries his reader along with him into these ancient regions of poetry, by that power of verse which we may well fancy to be like what,— “&lblank; Olim fauni vatesque canebant.” Warburton. “And certain stars shot madly from their spheres.” So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “And little stars shot from their fixed places.” Malone. Every reader may be induced to wish that the foregoing allusion, pointed out by so acute a critic as Dr. Warburton, should remain uncontroverted; and yet I cannot dissemble my doubts concerning it.—Why is the thrice-married Queen of Scotland stiled a Sea-maid? and is it probable that Shakspeare (who understood his own political as well as poetical interest) should have ventured such a panegyric on this ill-fated Princess, during the reign of her rival Elizabeth? If it was unintelligible to his audience, it was thrown away; if obvious, there was danger of offence to her Majesty. “A star dis-orb'd,” however, (See Troilus and Cressida,) is one of our author's favourite images; and he has no where else so happily expressed it as in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the good stars, that were my former guides, “Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires “Into th' abysm of hell.” To these remarks may be added others of a like tendency, which I met with in The Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786.— “That a compliment to Queen Elizabeth was intended in the expression of the fair Vestal throned in the West, seems to be generally allowed; but how far Shakspeare designed, under the image of the Mermaid, to figure Mary Queen of Scots, is more doubtful. If by the rude sea grew civil at her song, is meant, as Dr. Warburton supposes, that the tumults of Scotland were appeased by her address, the observation is not true; for that sea was in a storm during the whole of Mary's reign. Neither is the figure just, if by the stars shooting madly from their spheres to hear the sea-maid's musick, the poet alluded to the fate of the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, and particularly of the Duke of Norfolk, whose projected marriage with Mary was the occasion of his ruin. It would have been absurd and irreconcileable to the good sense of the poet, to have represented a nobleman aspiring to marry a queen, by the image of a star shooting or descending from its sphere.” See also Mr. Ritson's observations on the same subject. On account of their length they are given at the end of the play. Steevens.

Note return to page 469 1Cupid all arm'd:] All arm'd does not signify dressed in panoply, but only enforces the word armed, as we might say, all booted. Johnson. So, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “Or where proud Cupid sat all arm'd with fire.” Again, in Lord Surrey's translation of the 4th book of the Æneid: “All utterly I could not seem forsaken.” Again, in King Richard III.: “His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights.” Shakspeare's compliment to Queen Elizabeth has no small degree of propriety and elegance to boast of. The same can hardly be said of the following, with which the tragedy of Soliman and Perseda, 1599, concludes. Death is the speaker, and vows he will spare— “&lblank; none but sacred Cynthia's friend, “Whom Death did fear before her life began; “For holy fates have grav'n it in their tables, “That Death shall die, if he attempt her end “Whose life is heaven's delight, and Cynthia's friend.” If incense was thrown in cart-loads on the altar, this propitious deity was not disgusted by the smoke of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 2At a fair vestal, throned by the west;] A compliment to Queen Elizabeth. Pope. It was no uncommon thing to introduce a compliment to this resolute, this determined virgin, in the body of a play. So again, in Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “There lives a virgin, one without compare, “Who of all graces hath her heavenly share; “In whose renowne, and for whose happie days, “Let us record this Pæan of her praise.” Cantant. Steevens.

Note return to page 471 3&lblank; fancy-free.] i. e. exempt from the power of love. Thus, in Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment in Suffolke and Norfolke, written by Churchyard, Chastity deprives Cupid of his bow, and presents it to her Majesty: “&lblank; and bycause that the Queene had chosen the best life, she gave the Queene Cupid's bow, to learne to shoote at whome she pleased: since none could wound her highnesse hart, it was meete (said Chastitie) that she should do with Cupid's bowe and arrowes what she pleased.” Steevens.

Note return to page 472 4And maidens call it, love-in-idleness.] This is as fine a metamorphosis as any in Ovid: with a much better moral, intimating, that irregular love has only power when people are idle, or not well employed. Warburton. I believe the singular beauty of this metamorphosis to have been quite accidental, as the poet is of another opinion, in The Taming of a Shrew, Act I. Sc. IV.: “But see, while idly I stood looking on, “I found th' effect of love in idleness; “And now in plainness I confess to thee, “Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, “If I achieve not this young modest girl.” And Lucentio's was surely a regular and honest passion. It is scarce necessary to mention, that love-in-idleness is a flower. Taylor, the water-poet, quibbling on the names of plants, mentions it as follows: “When passions are let loose without a bridle, “Then precious time is turn'd to love-in-idle.” Steevens. The flower or violet, commonly called pansies, or heart's ease, is named love-in-idleness in Warwickshire, and in Lyte's Herbal. There is a reason why Shakspeare says it is “now purple with love's wound,” because one or two of its petals are of a purple colour. Tollet. It is called in other counties the Three coloured violet, the Herb of Trinity, Three faces in a hood, Cuddle me to you, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 473 *So quarto F.; folio, and quarto R., omit round.

Note return to page 474 5I'll put a girdle round about the earth &lblank;] This expression also occurs in The Bird in a Cage, 1633: “And when I have put a girdle 'bout the world, “This purchase will reward me.” Perhaps it is proverbial. Again, in Bussy d'Ambois, by Chapman, 1613: “To put a girdle round about the world.” And in other plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 475 6&lblank; I am invisible:] I thought proper here to observe, that, as Oberon, and Puck his attendant, may be frequently observed to speak, when there is no mention of their entering, they are designed by the poet to be supposed on the stage during the greatest part of the remainder of the play; and to mix, as they please, as spirits, with the other actors; and embroil the plot, by their interposition, without being seen, or heard, but when to their own purpose. Theobald.

Note return to page 476 7The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.] The old copies read— “The one I'll stay, the other stayeth me.” Steevens. Dr. Thirlby ingeniously saw it must be, as I have corrected in the text. Theobald.

Note return to page 477 8&lblank; and wood within this wood,] Wood, or mad, wild, raving. Pope. In the third part of the Countess of Pembroke's Ivy-Church, 1591, is the same quibble on the word: “Daphne goes to the woods, and vowes herself to Diana; “Phœbus grows stark wood for love and fancie to Daphne.” We also find the same word in Chaucer, in the character of the Monke, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 184: “What shulde he studie, and make himselven wood!” Spenser also uses it, Æglogue III. March: “The elf was so wanton, and so wode.” “The name Woden,” says Verstegan in his Restitution of Decayed Intelligence, 1605: “signifies fierce or furious; and in like sense we still retain it, saying when one is in a great rage, that he is wood, or taketh on as if he were wood.” Steevens. See Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. III. Harris.

Note return to page 478 9You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; But yet you draw not iron,] I learn from Edward Fenton's Certaine Secrete Wonders of Nature, bl. l. 1569, that—“there is now a dayes a kind of adamant which draweth unto it fleshe, and the same so strongly, that it hath power to knit and tie together, two mouthes of contrary persons, and drawe the heart of a man out of his bodie without offendyng any parte of him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 479 *Quarto F. omits do.

Note return to page 480 1&lblank; impeach your modesty &lblank;] i. e. bring it into question. So, in The Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. II.: “And doth impeach the freedom of the state, “If they deny him justice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 481 2&lblank; for that.] i. e. For leaving the city, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 482 3It is not night, when I do see your face, &c.] This passage is paraphrased from two lines of an ancient poet [Tibullus]: “&lblank; Tu nocte vel atra “Lumen, et in solis tu mihi turba locis.” Johnson. As the works of King David might be more familiar to Shakspeare than Roman poetry, perhaps, on the present occasion, the eleventh verse of the 139th Psalm was in his thoughts: “Yea, the darkness is no darkness with thee, but the night is as clear as the day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 483 4Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company;] The same thought occurs in King Henry VI. P. II.: “A wilderness is populous enough, “So Suffolk had thy heavenly company.” Malone.

Note return to page 484 5The wildest hath not such a heart as you.] “Mitius inveni quam te genus omne ferarum.” Ovid. See Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; where he shall find “The unkindest beasts more kinder than mankind.” S. W.

Note return to page 485 6I will not stay thy questions;] Though Helena certainly puts a few insignificant questions to Demetrius, I cannot but think our author wrote—question, i. e. discourse, conversation. So, in As You Like It. “I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him. Steevens.

Note return to page 486 *Quarto F. the field.

Note return to page 487 7To die upon the hand, &c.] To die upon, &c. in our author's language, I believe, means—“to die by the hand.” So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 488 8&lblank; whereon &lblank;] The old copy reads—where. Mr. Malone supposes where to be used as a dissyllable; but offers no example of such a pronunciation. Steevens. If similar usages are shown in Shakspeare and other writers of his time, it is sufficient without producing express authority in every instance. Mr. Steevens saw no objection to desire as a trisyllable in Cymbeline, Act I. Sc. VII.: “Should make desire vomit emptiness.” Yet no other example has been given. Malone.

Note return to page 489 9Where ox-lips &lblank;] The ox-lip is the greater cowslip. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, song xv.: “To sort these flowers of showe, with other that were sweet, “The cowslip then they couch, and th' oxlip for her meet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 490 1&lblank; the nodding violet &lblank;] i. e. that declines its head, like a drowsy person. Steevens.

Note return to page 491 2Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,] Thus all the old copies. On the margin of one of my folios an unknown hand has written lush woodbine, which, I think, is right. This hand I have since discovered to be Theobald's. Johnson. Lush is clearly preferable in point of sense, and absolutely necessary in point of metre. Oberon is speaking in rhyme; but woodbine, as hitherto accented upon the first syllable, cannot possibly correspond with eglantine. The substitution of lush will restore the passage to its original harmony, and the author's idea. Ritson. I have inserted lush in the text, as it is a word already used by Shakspeare in The Tempest, Act. II.: “How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green?” Both lush and luscious (says Mr. Henley) are words of the same origin. Dr. Farmer, however, would omit the word quite, as a useless expletive, and read: “O'er-canopied with luscious woodbine.” Steevens. That no alteration is required on account of the metre is shown in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 492 3&lblank; the man &lblank; hath on.] I desire no surer evidence to prove that the broad Scotch pronunciation once prevailed in England, than such a rhyme as the first of these words affords to the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 4&lblank; a roundel, and a fairy song;] Rounds, or roundels, were like the present country dances, and are thus described by Sir John Davies, in his Orchestra, 1622: “Then first of all he doth demonstrate plain   “The motions seven that are in nature found, “Upward and downward, forth, and back again,   “To this side, and to that, and turning round;   “Whereof a thousand brawls he doth compound,     “Which he doth teach unto the multitude,     “And ever with a turn they must conclude. &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “Thus when at first love had them marshalled,   “As erst he did the shapeless mass of things, “He taught them rounds and winding hays to tread,   “And about trees to cast themselves in rings:   “As the two Bears whom the first mover flings     “With a short turn about heaven's axle-tree,     “In a round dance for ever wheeling be.” Reed. A roundell, rondil, or roundelay, is sometimes used to signify a song beginning or ending with the same sentence: redit in orbem. Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589, has a chapter On the roundel, or sphere, and produces what he calls A general resemblance of the roundel to God, and the queen. Steevens. A roundel is, as I suppose, a circular dance. Ben Jonson seems to call the rings which such dances are supposed to make in the grass, rondels. Vol. V. Tale of a Tub, p. 23: “I'll have no rondels, I, in the queen's paths.” Tyrwhitt. So, in The Boke of the Governour, by Sir Thomas Elyot, 1537: “In stede of these we have now base daunces, bargenettes, pavyons, turgions, and roundes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 494 5Then, for the third part of a minute, hence:] Dr. Warburton reads: &lblank; for the third part of the midnight—. But the persons employed are fairies, to whom the third part of a minute might not be a very short time to do such work in. The critick might as well have objected to the epithet tall, which the fairy bestows on the cowslip. But Shakspeare, throughout the play, has preserved the proportion of other things in respect of these tiny beings, compared with whose size, a cowslip might be tall, and to whose powers of execution, a minute might be equivalent to an age. Steevens.

Note return to page 495 6&lblank; in the musk-rose buds;] What is at present called the Musk Rose, was a flower unknown to English botanists in the time of Shakspeare. About fifty years ago it was brought into this country from Spain. Steevens.

Note return to page 496 7&lblank; with rear-mice &lblank;] A rere-mouse is a bat, a mouse that rears itself from the ground by the aid of wings. So, in Albertus Wallenstein, 1640: “Half-spirited souls, who strive on rere-mice wings.” Again, in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “&lblank; I keep no shades “Nor shelters, I, for either owls or rere-mice.” Again, in Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, b. iv. edit. 1587, p. 58, b: “And we in English language bats or reremice call the same.” Gawin Douglas, in his Prologue to Maphæus's 13th Book of the Æneid, also applies the epithet leathern to the wings of the bat: “Up gois the bak with her pelit leddren flicht.” Steevens.

Note return to page 497 8&lblank; quaint spirits:] For this Dr. Warburton reads against all authority: “&lblank; quaint sports.” But Prospero, in The Tempest, applies quaint to Ariel. Johnson. “Our quaint spirits.” Dr. Johnson is right in the word, and Dr. Warburton in the interpretation. A spirit was sometimes used for a sport. In Decker's play, If It be Not Good, the Devil is In It, the king of Naples says to the devil Ruffman, disguised in the character of Shalcan: “Now Shalcan, some new spirit? —Ruff. A thousand wenches stark-naked to play at leap-frog. —Omnes. O rare sight!” Farmer.

Note return to page 498 9&lblank; with double tongue,] The same epithet occurs in a future scene of this play: “&lblank; with doubler tongue “Than thine, thou serpent,” &c. Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; adders, who, with cloven tongues, “Do hiss me into madness.” By both these terms, I suppose, our author means—forked; as the tongues of snakes are sometimes represented in ancient tapestry and paintings, and, it may be added, are so in nature. Steevens.

Note return to page 499 1Newts, and blind-worms,] The newt is the eft, the blind-worm is the Cæcilia or slow-worm. They are both ingredients in the cauldron of Macbeth. See Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. I.: Steevens.

Note return to page 500 *So quartos; folio, your.

Note return to page 501 2Hence, away; &c.] This, according to all the editions, is made part of the song; but, I think, without sufficient reason, as it appears to be spoken after the song is over. In the quarto 1600, it is given to the second Fairy; but the other division is better. Steevens.

Note return to page 502 3Be it ounce,] The ounce is a small tiger, or tiger-cat. Johnson.

Note return to page 503 4O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence;] Lysander, in the language of love, professes, that as they have one heart, they shall have one bed; this Hermia thinks rather too much, and intreats him to lie further off. Lysander answers: “O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence;” Understand the meaning of my innocence, or my innocent meaning. Let no suspicion of ill enter thy mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 504 5Love takes the meaning, in love's conference.] In the conversation of those who are assured of each other's kindness, not suspicion but love takes the meaning. No malevolent interpretation is to be made, but all is to be received in the sense which love can find, and which love can dictate. Johnson. The latter line is certainly intelligible as Dr. Johnson has explained it; but, I think, it requires a slight alteration to make it connect well with the former. I would read: Love take the meaning in love's conference. That is, Let love take the meaning. Tyrwhitt. There is no occasion for alteration. The idea is exactly similar to that of St. Paul: “Love thinketh no evil.” Henley.

Note return to page 505 6&lblank; interchained &lblank;] Thus the quartos; the folio, interchanged. Steevens.

Note return to page 506 7Now much beshrew, &c.] This word, of which the etymology is not exactly known, implies a sinister wish, and means the same as if she had said “now ill befall my manners,” &c. It is used by Heywood in his Iron Age, 1632: “Beshrew your amorous rhetorick.” Again: “Well, Paris, I beshrew you, with my heart.” Steevens. See Minsheu's etymology of it, which seems to be an imprecation or wish of such evil to one, as the venomous biting of the shrew-mouse. Tollet.

Note return to page 507 8But Athenian found I none,] Thus the quarto, 1600, printed by Fisher. That by Roberts, and the folio, 1623, read: “&lblank; find I none.” Steevens.

Note return to page 508 9Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy.] The old copies read: “Near this lack-love, this kill—courtesy.” Mr. Theobald and Sir T. Hanmer, for the sake of the measure, leave out this lack-love. I have only omitted—this. Steevens. If we read near as a dissyllable, like many other similar words, we shall produce a line of ten syllables, a measure which sometimes occurs in Puck's speeches: “I must go seek some dew drops here; “And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.” Again: “I go, I go: look how I go; “Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.” Malone.

Note return to page 509 1All the power this charm doth owe:] i. e. all the power it possesses. So, in Othello: “Shall never medicine thee to that sweet sleep “Which thou ow'dst yesterday.” Steevens.

Note return to page 510 2&lblank; let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eye-lid.] So, in Macbeth: “Sleep shall neither night nor day “Hang upon his pent-house lid.” Steevens.

Note return to page 511 3&lblank; wilt thou darkling leave me?] i.e. in the dark. So, in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1529: “&lblank; we'll run away with the torch, and leave them to fight darkling.” The word is likewise used by Milton. Steevens. Again, in King Lear: “And so the candle went out, and we were left darkling.” Ritson.

Note return to page 512 4&lblank; my grace.] My acceptableness, the favour that I can gain. Johnson.

Note return to page 513 5&lblank; Nature shews her art,] The quartos have only—Nature shews art. The folio reads—Nature her shews art,—probably the error of the press for—Nature shews her art, as I have printed it. The editor of the second folio changed her to here. Malone. I admit the word—here, as a judicious correction of the second folio. Here, means—in the present instance. On this occasion, says Lysander, the work of nature resembles that of art, viz. (as our author expresses it in his Lover's Complaint,) an object “glaz'd with crystal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 514 *Quarto F. omits now.

Note return to page 515 6&lblank; till now ripe not to reason;] i. e. do not ripen to it. Ripe, in the present instance, is a verb. So, in As You Like It: “And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe—.’ Steevens.

Note return to page 516 7&lblank; touching now the point of human skill,] i. e. my senses being now at the utmost height of perfection. So, in King Henry VIII.: “I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 517 8Reason becomes the marshal to my will,] That is, My will now follows reason. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going.” Steevens. A modern writer [Letters of Literature, 8vo. 1785,] contends that Dr. Johnson's explanation is inaccurate. The meaning, says he, is, “my will now obeys the command of my reason, not my will follows my reason. Marshal is a director of an army, of a turney, of a feast. Sydney has used marshal for herald or poursuivant, but improperly.” Of such flimzy materials are many of the hyper-criticisms composed, to which the labours of the editors and commentators on Shakspeare have given rise. Who does not at once perceive, that Dr. Johnson, when he speaks of the will following reason, uses the word not literally, but metaphorically? “My will follows or obeys the dictates of reason.” Or that, if this were not the case, he would yet be justified by the context, (And leads me—) and by the passage quoted from Macbeth?—The heralds, distinguished by the names of “poursuivants at arms,” were likewise called marshals. See Minsheu's Dict. 1617, in v. Malone.

Note return to page 518 9&lblank; leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook Love's stories, written in love's richest book.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, “Find written in the margin of his eyes, “This precious book of love &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 519 1&lblank; true gentleness.] Gentleness is equivalent to what, in modern language, we should call the spirit of a gentleman. Percy.

Note return to page 520 2And you &lblank;] Instead of you, the first folio reads—yet. Mr. Pope first gave the right word from the quarto 1600. Steevens.

Note return to page 521 3Speak, of all loves;] Of all loves is an adjuration more than once used by our author. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. VIII.: “&lblank; to send her your little page, of all loves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 522 4Either death, or you, I'll find immediately.] Thus the ancient copies, and such was Shakspeare's usage. He frequently employs either, and other similar words, as monosyllables. So, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “Either from the king, or in the present time.” Again, in King Henry V.: “Either past, or not arriv'd to pith and puissance.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Either led or driven, as we point the way.” Again, in King Richard III.: “Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance &lblank;.” Again, in Othello: “Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed.” So also, Marlowe in his Edward II. 1598: “Either banish him that was the cause thereof &lblank;.” The modern editors read—Or death or you, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 523 5In the time of Shakspeare there were many companies of players, sometimes five at the same time, contending for the favour of the publick. Of these some were undoubtedly very unskilful and very poor, and it is probable that the design of this scene was to ridicule their ignorance, and the odd expedients to which they might be driven by the want of proper decorations. Bottom was perhaps the head of a rival house, and is therefore honoured with an ass's head. Johnson.

Note return to page 524 6Enter Quince, &c.] The two quartos 1600, and the folio, read only, Enter the Clowns. Steevens.

Note return to page 525 *Quarto F. marvels.

Note return to page 526 7By'rlakin, a parlous fear.] By our ladykin, or little lady, as ifakins is a corruption of by my faith. The former is used in Preston's Cambyses: “The clock hath stricken vive, ich think, by laken.” Again, in Magnificence, an interlude, written by Skelton, and printed by Rastell: “By our lakin, syr, not by my will.” Parlous is a word corrupted from perilous, i. e. dangerous. So, Phaer and Twyne translate the following passage in the Æneid, lib. vii. 302: “Quid Syrtes, aut Scylla mihi? quid vasta Charybdis “Profuit? &lblank;” “What good did Scylla me? What could prevail Charybdis wood? “Or Sirtes parlous sands?” Steevens.

Note return to page 527 8&lblank; in eight and six.] i. e. in alternate verses of eight and six syllables. Malone.

Note return to page 528 9&lblank; God shield us! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing.] There is an odd coincidence between what our author has here written for Bottom, and a real occurrence at the Scottish court in the year 1594. Prince Henry the eldest son of James the First was christened in August in that year. While the king and queen, &c. were at dinner, a triumphal chariot (the frame of which, we are told, was ten feet long and seven broad) with several allegorical personages on it, was drawn in by “a black-moore. This chariot should have been drawne in by a lyon, but because his presence might have brought some feare to the nearest, or that the sight of the lighted torches might have commoved his tameness, it was thought meete that the Moore should supply that room.” A true account of the most triumphal and royal accomplishment of the baptism of the most excellent, right high, and mighty prince, Henry Frederick, &c. as it was solemnized the 30th day of August, 1594. 8vo. 1603. Malone.

Note return to page 529 1No, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are:— and there, indeed, let him name his name; and tell them plainly, he is Snug the joiner.] There are probably many temporary allusions to particular incidents and characters scattered through our author's plays, which gave a poignancy to certain passages, while the events were recent, and the persons pointed at yet living.— In the speech now before us, I think it not improbable that he meant to allude to a fact which happened in his time, at an entertainment exhibited before Queen Elizabeth. It is recorded in a manuscript collection of anecdotes, stories, &c. entitled, Merry Passages and Jeasts, MS. Harl. 6395: “There was a spectacle presented to Queen Elizabeth upon the water, and among others Harry Goldingham was to represent Arion upon the dolphin's backe; but finding his voice to be verye hoarse and unpleasant, when he came to perform it, he tears off his disguise, and swears he was none of Arion, not he, but even honest Harry Goldingham; which blunt discoverie pleased the queene better than if it had gone through in the right way:—yet he could order his voice to an instrument exceeding well.” The collector of these Merry Passages appears to have been nephew to Sir Roger L Estrange. Malone.

Note return to page 530 2&lblank; that brake;] Brake, in the present instance, signifies a thicket or furze-bush. So, in the ancient copy of the Notbrowne Mayde, 1521: “&lblank; for, dry or wete   “Ye must lodge on the playne: “And us abofe none other rofe   “But a brake bush, or twayne.” Again, in Milton's Masque at Ludlow Castle: “Run to your shrowds within these brakes and trees.” Stevens. Brake in the west of England is used to express a large extent of ground overgrown with furze, and appears both here and in the next scene to convey the same idea. Henley.

Note return to page 531 3So hath thy breath,] The old copies concur in reading: “So hath thy breath,”— Mr. Pope made the alteration of hath into doth, which seems to be necessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 532 4&lblank; stay thou but here a while,] The verses should be alternately in rhyme: but sweet in the close of the first line, and while in the third, will not do for this purpose. The author, doubtless, gave it: “&lblank; stay thou but here a whit,” i. e. a little while: for so it signifies, as also any thing of no price or consideration; a trifle: in which sense it is very frequent with our author. Theobald. Nothing, I think, is got by either change. I suspect two lines to have been lost; the first of which rhymed with “savours sweet,” and the other with “here a while.” The line before appears to me to refer to something that has been lost. Malone.

Note return to page 533 5&lblank; than e'er play'd here!] I suppose he means in that theatre where the piece was acting. Steevens.

Note return to page 534 6&lblank; juvenal,] i. e. young man. So, Falstaff: “&lblank; the juvenal thy master.” Steevens.

Note return to page 535 7&lblank; cues and all.] A cue, in stage cant, is the last words of the preceding speech, and serves as a hint to him who is to speak next. So, Othello: “Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it “Without a prompter.” Again, in The Return from Parnassus: “Indeed, master Kempe, you are very famous: but that is as well for works in print, as your part in cue.” Kempe was one of Shakspeare's fellow comedians. Steevens.

Note return to page 536 8If I were fair, &c.] Perhaps we ought to point thus: If I were, [i. e. as true, &c.] fair Thisby, I were only thine. Malone.

Note return to page 537 9Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;] Here are two syllables wanting. Perhaps, it was written: “Through bog, through mire,” &lblank;. Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queene, b. vi. c. viii.: “Through hills, through dales, through bushes and through briars, “Long thus she bled,” &c. Malone. The alliteration evidently requires some word beginning with a b. We may therefore read: “Through bog, through burn, through bush, through brake, through brier.” Ritson.

Note return to page 538 1&lblank; to make me afeard.] Afear is from to fear, by the old form of the language, as an hungered, from to hunger. So adry, for thirsty. Johnson.

Note return to page 539 2O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee?] It is plain by Bottom's answer, that Snout mentioned an ass's head. Therefore we should read: Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? An ass's head? Johnson.

Note return to page 540 3The ousel-cock,] The ouzel cock is generally understood to be the cock blackbird. Ben Jonson uses the word in The Devil is an Ass: “&lblank; stay till cold weather come, “I'll help thee to an ouzel and a field-fare.” P. Holland, however, in his translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. b. x. c. xxiv. represents the ouzle and the blackbird as different birds. In The Arbor of Amorous Devises, 4to. bl. I. are the following lines: “The chattering pie, the jay, and eke the quaile, “The thrastle-cock that was so black of hewe.” The former leaf and the title-page being torn out of the copy I consulted, I am unable either to give the two preceding lines of the stanza, or to ascertain the date of the book. Steevens. From the following passage in Gwazzo's Civile Conversation, 1586, p. 139, it appears that ousels and blackbirds were the same birds: “She would needs have it that they were two ousels or blackbirds.” Reed. The ousel differs from the black-bird by having a white crescent upon the breast, and is besides rather larger. See Lewin's English Birds. Douce.

Note return to page 541 4The throstle &lblank;] So, in the old metrical romance of The Squhr of Low Degree, bl. I. no date: “The pee and the popinjaye, “The thrustele, sayinge both nyght and daye.” Again, in the first book of Gower De Confessione Amantis, 1554: “The throstel with the nightingale.” It appears from the following passage in Thomas Newton's Herball to the Bible, 8vo. 1587, that the throstle is a distinct bird from the thrush: “&lblank; There is also another sort of myrte or myrtle which is wild, whose berries the mavises, throssels, owsells, and thrushes delite much to eate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 542 5What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?] Perhaps a parody on a line in The Spanish Tragedy, often ridiculed by the poets of our author's time: “What outcry calls me from my naked bed?” The Spanish Tragedy was entered on the Stationers' books in 1592. Malone.

Note return to page 543 6&lblank; plain-song cuckoo, &c.] That is, the cuckoo, who, having no variety of strains, sings in plain song, or in plano cantu; by which expression the uniform modulation or simplicity of the chaunt was anciently distinguished, in opposition to prick-song, or variegated musick sung by note. Skelton introduces the birds singing the different parts of the service of the funeral of his favourite sparrow: among the rest is the cuckoo. P. 227, edit. Lond. 1736: “But with a large and a long “To kepe just playne songe “Our chanters shall be your cuckoue,” &c. T. Warton. Again, in The Return from Parnassus: “Our life is a plain song with cunning penn'd.” Again, in Hans Beer-pot's Invisible Comedy, &c.: “The cuckoo sings not worth a groat, “Because she never changeth note.” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 7Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say; to swear, I love thee.] These lines are, in one quarto of 1600, the first folio of 1623, the second of 1632, and the third of 1664, &c. ranged in the following order: “Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, “On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee; “So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape, “And thy fair virtue's force (perforce) doth move me.” This reading I have inserted, not that it can suggest any thing better than the order to which the lines have been restored by Mr. Theobald from another quarto, [Fisher's,] but to show that some liberty of conjecture must be allowed in the revisal of works so inaccurately printed, and so long neglected. Johnson.

Note return to page 545 8&lblank; gleek,] Joke or scoff. Pope. Gleek was originally a game at cards. The word is often used by other ancient comic writers, in the same sense as by our author. So, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “There's gleek for you, let me have my gird.” Again, in Tom Tyler and his Wife: “The more that I get her, the more she doth gleek me.” Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “Mesieur Benedetto galled Peratio with his gleek.” Mr. Lambe observes in his notes on the ancient metrical history of The Battle of Flodden, that, in the north, to gleek is to deceive, or beguile; and that the reply made by the queen of the fairies, proves this to be the meaning of it. Steevens. Glaik, or the glaiks, is still used in Scotland for a trick. See this word explained, and its origin pointed out, in Jamieson's Dictionary of the Scottish language, voc. Glaik. Boswell.

Note return to page 546 9&lblank; jewels from the deep,] So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; reflecting gems “That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep.” Steevens.

Note return to page 547 1Where shall we go?] In the ancient copies, this, and the three preceding speeches, are given to the Fairies collectively. By the advice of Dr. Farmer I have omitted a useless repetition of—“and I,” which overloaded the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 548 2&lblank; dewberries,] Dewberries strictly and properly are the fruit of one of the species of wild bramble called the creeping or the lesser bramble: but as they stand here among the more delicate fruits, they must be understood to mean raspberries, which are also of the bramble kind. T. Hawkins. Dewberries are gooseberries, which are still so called in several parts of the kingdom. Henley.

Note return to page 549 3&lblank; the firy glow-worm's eyes,] I know not how Shakspeare, who commonly derived his knowledge of nature from his own observation, happened to place the glow-worm's light in his eyes, which is only in his tail. Johnson. The blunder is not in Shakspeare, but in those who have construed too literally a poetical expression. It appears from every line of his writings that he had studied with attention the book of nature, and was an accurate observer of any object that fell within his notice. He must have known that the light of the glow-worm was seated in the tail; but surely a poet is justified in calling the luminous part of a glow-worm the eye. It is a liberty we take in plain prose; for the point of greatest brightness in a furnace is commonly called the eye of it. Dr. Johnson might have arraigned him with equal propriety for sending his fairies to light their tapers at the fire of the glow-worm, which in Hamlet he terms uneffectual: “The glow-worm shews the matin to be near, “And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 550 4Hail, mortal!] The old copies read—Hail, mortal, hail! The second hail was clearly intended for another of the fairies, so as that each of them should address Bottom. The regulation now adopted was proposed by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 551 5I shall desire you of more acquaintance,] This line has been very unnecessarily altered. The same mode of expression occurs in Lusty Juventus, a morality: “I shall desire you of better acquaintance.” Such phraseology was very common to many of our ancient writers. So, in An Humorous Day's Mirth, 1599: “I do desire you of more acquaintance.” Again, in Golding's version of the 14th book of Ovid's Metamorphosis: “&lblank; he praid “Him earnestly, with careful voice, of furthrance and of aid.” Again, in Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “&lblank; craving you of more acquaintance.” Steevens. The alteration in the modern editions was made on the authority of the first folio, which reads in the next speech but one— “I shall desire of you more acquaintance.” But the old reading is undoubtedly the true one. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. ix.: “If it be I, of pardon I you pray.” Malone.

Note return to page 552 6&lblank; good master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.—Your name, honest gentleman?] In The Mayde's Metamorphosis, a comedy by Lyly, there is a dialogue between some foresters and a troop of Fairies, very similar to the present: “Mopso. I pray, sir, what might I call you? “1 Fai. My name is Penny. “Mop. I am sorry I cannor purse you. “Frisco. I pray you, sir, what might I call you? “2 Fai. My name is Cricket. “Fris. I would I were a chimney for your sake.” The Maid's Metamorphosis was not printed till 1600, but was probably written some years before. Mr. Warton says, (History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 393,) that Lyly's last play appeared in 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 553 7&lblank; mistress Squash, your mother,] A squash is an immature peascod. So, in Twelfth-Night, Act I. Sc. V.: “&lblank; as a squash is, before 'tis a peascod.” Steevens.

Note return to page 554 8&lblank; patience &lblank;] The Oxford edition reads—I know your parentage well. I believe the correction is right. Johnson. Parentage was not easily corrupted to patience. I fancy, the true word is, passions, sufferings. There is an ancient satirical Poem entitled—“The Poor Man's Passions, [i. e. sufferings,] or Poverty's Patience.” Patience and Passions are so alike in sound, that a careless transcriber or compositor might easily have substituted the former word for the latter. Farmer. No change is necessary. These words are spoken ironically. According to the opinion prevailing in our author's time, mustard was supposed to excite to choler. See note on Taming of the Shrew, Act IV. Sc. III. Reed. Perhaps we should read—“I know you passing well.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 555 9&lblank; my love's tongue,] The old copies read—“my lover's tongue.” Steevens. Our poet has again used lover as a monosyllable in Twelfth-Night: “Sad true lover never find my grave.” Malone. In the passage quoted from Twelfth-Night, “true lover” is evidently a mistake for—“true love,” a phrase which occurs in the very scene before us: “And laid the love-juice on some true love's sight.” Lover, in both the foregoing instances, I must therefore suppose to have been a printer's blunder for love; and have therefore continued Mr. Pope's emendation in the text. How is lover to be pronounced as a monosyllable? Steevens. How either is to be pronounced as a monosyllable, see p. 243; but this point is more fully discussed in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Malone.

Note return to page 556 1&lblank; what night-rule &lblank;] Night-rule in this place should seem to mean, what frolick of the night, what revelry is going forward? So, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1661: “Marry, here is good rule!” Again: “&lblank; why how now strife! here is pretty rule!” It appears from the old song of Robin Goodfellow, in the third volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, that it was the office of this waggish spirit “to viewe [or superintend] the night-sports.” Steevens.

Note return to page 557 2&lblank; patches,] Patch was in old language used as a term of opprobry; perhaps with much the same import as we use raggamuffin, or tatterdemalion. Johnson. Puck calls the players, “a crew of patches.” A common opprobrious term, which probably took its rise from Patch, Cardinal Wolsey's fool. In the western counties, cross-patch is still used for perverse, ill-natur'd fool. T. Warton. The name was rather taken from the patch'd or pied coats worn by the fools or jesters of those times. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; what a pied ninny's this?” Again, in Preston's Cambyses: “Hob and Lob, ah ye country patches!” Again, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “It is simplicitie, that patch.” Steevens. I should suppose patch to be merely a corruption of the Italian pazzo, which signifies properly a fool. So, in The Merchant of Venice, Act II. Sc. V. Shylock says of Launcelot: The patch is kind enough;—after having just called him, that fool of Hagar's off-spring. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 558 3&lblank; thick-skin &lblank;] See Merry Wives of Windsor, Act IV. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 559 4&lblank; barren sort,] Barren is dull, unpregnant. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; some quantity of barren spectators,” &c. Sort is company. Steevens.

Note return to page 560 5An ass's nowl I fixed on his head;] A head. Saxon. Johnson. So, Chaucer, in The History of Beryn, 1524: “No sothly, quoth the steward, it lieth all in thy noll, “Both wit and wysdom,” &c. Again, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “One thumps me on the neck, and another strikes me on the nole.” Steevens. The following receipt for the process tried on Bottom, occurs in Albertus Magnus de Secretis: “Si vis quod caput hominis assimiletur capiti asini, sume de segimine aselli, et unge hominem in capite, et sic apparebit.” There was a translation of this book in Shakspeare's time. Douce. The metamorphosis of Bottom's head, might have been suggested by a similar trick played by Dr. Faustus. See his History, chap. xliii. Steevens.

Note return to page 561 6&lblank; mimick &lblank;] Minnock is the reading of the old quarto, and I believe right. Minnekin, now minx, is a nice trifling girl. Minnock is apparently a word of contempt. Johnson. The folio reads—mimmick: perhaps for mimick, a word more familiar than that exhibited by one of the quartos, for the other reads—minnick. Steevens. Mimmick is the reading of the folio. The quarto printed by Fisher has—minnick; that by Roberts, minnock: both evidently corruptions. The line has been explained as if it related to Thisbe; but it does not relate to her, but to Pyramus. Bottom had just been playing that part, and had retired into a brake; (according to Quince's direction: “When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake.”) “Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimick (i. e. my actor) comes.” In this there seems no difficulty. Mimick is used as synonymous to actor, by Decker, in his Guls Hornebooke, 1609: “Draw what troop you can from the stage after you; the mimicks are beholden to you for allowing them elbow room.” Again, in his Satiromastix, 1602: “Thou [B. Jonson] hast forgot how thou ambled'st in a leather pilch by a play-waggon in the highway, and took'st mad Jeronymo's part, to get service amongst the mimicks.” Malone.

Note return to page 562 7&lblank; choughs,] The chough is a bird of the daw kind. It is mentioned also in Macbeth: “By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 8&lblank; sort,] Company. So above: “&lblank; that barren sort;” and in Waller: “A sort of lusty shepherds strive.” Johnson. So, in Chapman's May-day, 1611: “&lblank; though we neuer lead any other company than a sort of quart-pots.” Steevens.

Note return to page 564 9And, at our stamp,] This seems to be a vicious reading. Fairies are never represented stamping, or of a size that should give force to a stamp, nor could they have distinguished the stamps of Puck from those of their own companions. I read: “And at a stump here o'er and o'er one falls.” So Drayton: “A pain he in his head-piece feels, “Against a stubbled tree he reels, “And up went poor Hobgoblin's heels;   “Alas, his brain was dizzy.— “At length upon his feet he gets, “Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets, “And as again he forward sets,   “And through the bushes scrambles, “A stump doth trip him in his pace, “Down fell poor Hob upon his face, “And lamentably tore his case,   “Among the briers and brambles.” Johnson. I adhere to the old reading. The stamp of a fairy might be efficacious though not loud; neither is it necessary to suppose, when supernatural beings are spoken of, that the size of the agent determines the force of the action. That fairies did stamp to some purpose, may be known from the following passage in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus:—“Vero saltum adeo profundè in terram impresserant, ut locus insigni adore orbiculariter peresus, non parit arenti redivivum cespite gramen.” Shakspeare's own authority, however, is most decisive. See the conclusion of the first Scene of the fourth Act: “Come, my queen, take hand with me, “And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.” Steevens. Honest Reginald Scott, says: “Our grandams maides were wont to set a boll of milke before incubus, and his cousin Robin Good-fellow, for grinding of malt or mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight: and—that he would chafe exceedingly, if the maid or good wife of the house, having compassion of his nakednes, laid anie clothes for him beesides his messe of white bread and milke, which was his standing fee. For in that case he saith, What have we here? Hemton, hamten, here will I never more tread nor stampen.” Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1584, p. 85. Ritson.

Note return to page 565 1Some, sleeves; some, hats;] There is the like image in Drayton, of queen Mab and her fairies flying from Hobgoblin: “Some tore a ruff, and some a gown,   “'Gainst one another justling; “They flew about like chaff i' th' wind, “For haste some left their masks behind, “Some could not stay their gloves to find,   “There never was such bustling.” Johnson.

Note return to page 566 2&lblank; latch'd &lblank;] Or letch'd, lick'd over, lecher, to lick, Fr. Hanmer. In the North, it signifies to infect. Steevens.

Note return to page 567 3Being o'er shoes in blood,] An allusion to the proverb, Over shoes, over boots. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I am in blood, “Stept in so far,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 568 4&lblank; noon-tide with the Antipodes.] Dr. Warburton would read—i' th' antipodes, which Mr. Edwards ridicules without mercy. The alteration is certainly not necessary; but it is not so unlucky as he imagined. Shirley has the same expression in his Andromana: “To be a whore, is more unknown to her, “Then what is done in the antipodes.” In for among is frequent in old language. Farmer. The familiarity of the general idea, is shown by the following passage in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “And dwell one month with the Antipodes.” Again, in King Richard II.: “While we were wandring with the Antipodes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 569 5&lblank; so dead,] All the old copies read—so dead; in my copy of it, some reader has altered dead to dread. Johnson. Dead seems to be the right word, and our author again uses it in King Henry IV. P. II. Act. I. Sc. III.: “Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, “So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone.” Steevens. So also, in Greene's Dorastus and Fawnia: “&lblank; if thou marry in age, thy wife's fresh colours will breed in thee dead thoughts and suspicion.” Malone.

Note return to page 570 6Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping?] She means, Hast thou kill'd him sleeping, whom, when awake, thou didst not dare to look upon? Malone.

Note return to page 571 7&lblank; O brave touch!] Touch in Shakspeare's time was the same with our exploit, or rather stroke. A brave touch, a noble stroke, un grand coup. “Mason was very merry, pleasantly playing both with the shrewd touches of many curst boys, and the small discretion of many lewd schoolmasters.” Ascham. Johnson. A touch anciently signified a trick. In the old black letter story of Howleglas, it is always used in that sense:”&lblank; for at all times he did some mad touch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 572 8&lblank; mispris'd mood:] Mistaken; so below misprision is mistake. Johnson. Mood is anger, or perhaps rather in this place, capricious fancy. Malone. I rather conceive that—“on a mispris'd mood” is put for— “in a mispris'd mood;” i. e. “in a mistaken manner.” The preposition—on, is licentiously used by ancient authors. When Mark Antony says that Augustus Cæsar “dealt on lieutenantry,” he does not mean that he “dealt his blows on lieutenants,” but that he dealt in them;” i. e. achieved his victories by their conduct. Steevens.

Note return to page 573 9An if I could, &c.] This phraseology was common in Shakspeare's time. Thus, in Romeo and Juliet, Act V. Sc. I.: “An if a man did need a poison now.” Again, in Lodge's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 85: “&lblank; meanys was made unto me to see an yff I wold appoynt,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 574 1&lblank; part I so:] So, which is not in the old copy, was inserted, for the sake of both metre and rhyme, by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 575 2&lblank; pale of cheer &lblank;] Cheer, from the Italian cara, is frequently used by the old English writers for countenance. Even Dryden says— “Pale at the sudden sight, she chang'd her cheer.” Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 576 *Old copies, costs.

Note return to page 577 3&lblank; sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear:] So, in King Henry VI. we have “blood-consuming,”—“blood-drinking,” and “blood-sucking sighs.” All alluding to the ancient supposition that every sigh was indulged at the expence of a drop of blood. Steevens.

Note return to page 578 †So quartos; folio, doth.

Note return to page 579 4Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.] So, in the 10th book of Ovid's Metamorphosis; translated by Golding, 1567: “&lblank; and though that she “Did fly as swift as arrow from a Turkye bowe.” Douce. “A Tartar's painted bow of lath” is mentioned in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 580 5Hit with Cupid's archery,] This alludes to what was said before: “&lblank; the bolt of Cupid fell: “It fell upon a little western flower, “Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound.” Steevens.

Note return to page 581 6Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?] This is said in allusion to the badges (i. e. family crests) anciently worn on the sleeves of servants and retainers. So, in The Tempest: “Mark the badges of these men, and then say if they be true.” Steevens.

Note return to page 582 7&lblank; Taurus' snow,] Taurus is the name of a range of mountains in Asia. Johnson.

Note return to page 583 8This princess of pure white,] Thus all the editions as low as Sir Thomas Hanmer's. He reads: “This pureness of pure white;” and Dr. Warburton follows him. The old reading may be justified from a passage in Sir Walter Raleigh's Discovery of Guiana, where the pine-apple is called The princess of fruits. Again, in Wyat's Poems: “Of beauty princesse chief.” Steevens. In The Winter's Tale we meet with a similar expression: “&lblank; good sooth, she is “The queen of curds and cream.” Malone.

Note return to page 584 9&lblank; seal of bliss!] He has in Measure for Measure, the same image: “But my kisses bring again, “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Johnson. More appositely, in Antony and Cleopatra: “My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal, “And plighter of high hearts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 585 1&lblank; join, in souls,] i. e. join heartily, unite in the same mind. Shakspeare, in K. Henry V. uses an expression not unlike this: “For we will hear, note, and believe in heart;” i. e. heartily believe: and in Measure for Measure, he talks of electing with special soul. In Troilus and Cressida, Ulysses, relating the character of Hector as given him by Æneas, says: “&lblank; with private soul “Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.” And, in All Fools, by Chapman, 1605, is the same expression as that for which I contend: “Happy, in soul, only by winning her.” Again, in a masque called Luminalia, or The Festival of Light, 1637: “You that are chief in souls, as in your blood.” Again, in Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil, 1595: “&lblank; whose subversion in soul they have vow'd.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xii. ch. lxxv.: “Could all, in soul, of very God say as an Ethnick said “To one that preached Hercules?”— Again, in our author's Twelfth-Night: “And all those swearings keep as true in soul.” Sir T. Hanmer would read—in flouts: Dr. Warburton, insolents. Steevens. I rather believe the line should be read thus: “But you must join, ill souls, to mock me too?” Ill is often used for bad, wicked. So, in The Sea Voyage of Beaumont and Fletcher, Act IV. Sc. I.: “They did begin to quarrel like ill men;” which I cite the rather, because ill had there also been changed into in, by an error of the press, which Mr. Sympson has corrected from the edition 1647. Tyrwhitt. This is a very reasonable conjecture, though I think it hardly right. Johnson. We met with this phrase in an old poem by Robert Dabourne: “&lblank; Men shift their fashions— “They are in souls the same.” Farmer. So, in Timon of Athens, Act I. Sc. II.: “My lord, in heart, and let the health go round.” A similar phraseology is found in Measure for Measure: “Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women “To accuse this worthy man, but in foul mouth “To call him villain!” Malone.

Note return to page 586 2A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, &c.] This is written much in the manner and spirit of Juno's reproach to Venus in the fourth book of the Æneid: “Egregiam vero laudem et spolia ampla refertis, “Tuque puerque tuus; magnum et memorabile nomen, “Una dolo divûm si fœmina victa duorum est.” Steevens.

Note return to page 587 3&lblank; none, of noble sort,] Sort is here used for degree or quality. So, in the old ballad of Jane Shore: “Long time I lived in the court, “With lords and ladies of great sort.” Malone.

Note return to page 588 4&lblank; extort A poor soul's patience,] Harass, torment. Johnson.

Note return to page 589 5My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd; And now to Helen it is home return'd,] The ancient copies read—“to her.” Dr. Johnson made the correction, and exemplified the sentiment by the following passage from Prior: “No matter what beauties I saw in my way, “They were but my visits; but thou art my home.” Steevens. So, in our author's 109th Sonnet: “This is my home of love; if I have rang'd, “Like him that travels, I return again.” Malone.

Note return to page 590 *So quarto F.; quarto R., and folio, omit Helen.

Note return to page 591 †Quarto F. aby.

Note return to page 592 6&lblank; all yon fiery oes &lblank;] Shakspeare uses O for a circle. So, in the prologue to King Henry V.: “&lblank; can we crowd “Within this little O, the very casques “That did affright the air at Agincourt?” Again, in The Partheneia Sacra, 1633: “&lblank; the purple canopy of the earth, powder'd over and beset with silver oes, or rather an azure vault,” &c. Again, in John Davies of Hereford's Microcosmos, 1605, p. 233: “Which silver oes and spangles over-ran.” Steevens. D'Ewes's Journal of Queen Elizabeth's Parliaments, p. 650, mentions a patent to make spangles and oes of gold; and I think haberdashers call small curtain rings, O's, as being circular. Tollet.

Note return to page 593 7The sisters' vows,] We might read more elegantly—The sister vows, and a few lines lower,—All school-day friendship. The latter emendation was made by Mr. Pope; but changes merely for the sake of elegance ought to be admitted with great caution. Malone.

Note return to page 594 8For parting us,—O, now is all forgot?] The editor of the second folio, to complete the metre, introduced the word and;— “O, and is all forgot?” It stands so aukwardly, that I am persuaded it was not our author's word. Malone. The first folio omits the word—and. I have received it from the folio 1632. Steevens. “&lblank; O, and is all forgot?” Mr. Gibbon observes, that in a poem of Gregory Nazianzen on his own life, are some beautiful lines which burst from the heart, and speak the pangs of injured and lost friendship, resembling these. He adds “Shakspeare had never read the poems of Gregory Nazianzen: he was ignorant of the Greek language; but his mother tongue, the language of nature, is the same in Cappadocia and in Britain.” Gibbon's Hist. vol. iii. p. 15. Reed.

Note return to page 595 9&lblank; artificial gods,] Artificial is ingenious, artful. Steevens.

Note return to page 596 1Have with our neelds, &c.] Most of our modern editors editions, with the old copies, have—needles; but the word was probably written by Shakspeare neelds, (a common contraction in the inland counties at this day,) otherwise the verse would be inharmonious. See Gammer Gurton's Needle. Again, in Sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan, 1614: “Thus Cato spake, whose feeling words “Like pricking neelds, or points of swords,” &c. Again, in Stanyhurst's Virgil, 1582: “&lblank; on neeld-wrought carpets.” The same ideas occur in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; she “Would ever with Marina be: “Be't when they weav'd the sleded silk, “With fingers long, small, white as milk, “Or when she would with sharp neeld wound “The cambrick,” &c. Again, ibid.: “Deep clerks she dumbs, and with her neele composes “Nature's own shape.” In the age of Shakspeare many contractions were used. Ben Jonson has wher for whether, in the prologue to his Sad Shepherd; and in the Earl of Sterline's Darius, is sport for support, and twards for towards. Of the evisceration and extension of words, however, T. Churchyard affords the most numerous and glaring instances; for he has not scrupled even to give us rune instead of ruin, and miest instead of mist, when he wants rhymes to soon and criest. Steevens. In the old editions of these plays many words of two syllables are printed at length, though intended to be pronounced as one. Thus spirit is almost always so written, though often used as a monosyllable; and whether, though intended often to be contracted, is always (I think, improperly,) written at length. Malone.

Note return to page 597 2Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.] The old copies read—life coats, &c. Steevens. The true correction of the passage I owe to the friendship and communication of the ingenious Martin Folkes, Esq.—Two of the first, second, &c. are terms peculiar in heraldry, to distinguish the different quarterings of coats. Theobald. These are, as Theobald observes, terms peculiar to heraldry; but that observation does not help to explain them.—Every branch of a family is called a house; and none but the first of the first house can bear the arms of the family, without some distinction. Two of the first, therefore, means two coats of the first house, which are properly due but to one. M. Mason. I had formerly supposed that Helena meant to say that she and her friend were as closely united, as much one person, as if they were both of the first house, as if they both had the privilege due but to one person, that is, the right of bearing the family coat without any distinguishing mark. But further consideration, and indeed the coat of arms of Mr. John Aubrey, the Antiquary, which I happened to see soon after my former edition was published, convinced me I was mistaken. In Mr. Aubrey's arms, as in many others, are four quarters, which he thus describes: 1. Aubry. 2. Danvers. 3. Lyte. 4. As the first. Two of the first therefore are two perfectly similar, like the two coats in the arms above, the first and fourth, which are in fact two of the first, due but to one [Aubry] and to be crowned only with one crest. Malone.

Note return to page 598 3Ay, do, perséver,] Perséver is the reading of all the old copies. The word was formerly so pronounced. Thus our author, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. II.: “&lblank; say thou art mine, and ever “My love, as it begins, so shall perséver.” Again, in Glapthorne's Argalus and Parthenia, 1639: “&lblank; for ever “May they in love and union still perséver.” Steevens.

Note return to page 599 4&lblank; such an argument.] Such a subject of light merriment. Johnson. So, in the first part of King Henry IV. Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; it would be argument for a week,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 600 5&lblank; than her weak prayers.] The old copies read: “&lblank; than her weak praise.” Steevens. Mr. Theobald proposed to read—prays. A noun thus formed from the verb, to pray, is much in our author's manner; and the transcriber's ear might have been easily deceived by the similarity of sounds. Malone.

Note return to page 601 6No, no, he'll—Sir, &c.] This passage, like almost all those in these plays in which there is a sudden transition, or the sense is hastily broken off, is much corrupted in the old copies. The present text is formed from the quarto printed by Fisher and the first folio. The words “he'll” are not in the folio, and Sir is not in the quarto. Demetrius, I suppose, would say,—No, no: he'll not have the resolution to disengage himself from Hermia. But turning abruptly to Lysander, he addresses him ironically: —“Sir, seem to break loose;” &c. Malone. No critical remedy is nearer at hand, than a supposition that obscure passages are sentences designedly abrupt and imperfect.— Lysander calls Hermia an “Æthiop.”—“No, no, sir:” replies Demetrius; i. e. she is none; and then ironically speaks to her of Lysander, as of one whose struggle to break loose is merely a pretended effort. He next addresses his provocation personally to Lysander.—I have left the text as I found it; [No, no, Sir:— he will] only reading (for the sake of metre) he will, instead of he'll. Steevens. My assertion that abrupt sentences not attended to have been the cause of much obscurity, does not rest on conjecture or fancy. Mr. Steevens has adopted my suggestions in many other places; when he says he has left the text as he found it, he cannot mean, as he found it in any of the old copies. Malone. The only difficulty in this passage arises from the words—he will, sir, which are omitted in the second folio. In that edition it runs thus: “No, no, sir, seeme to breake loose; “Take on as you would follow, “But yet come not: you are a tame man, go.” This appears to me the true reading. M. Mason.

Note return to page 602 *Quartos, No, no, heele seeme; folio, No, no, Sir, seeme.

Note return to page 603 *Quarto R., and folio, poison.

Note return to page 604 7O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!] Juggler in this line is used as a trisyllable. So again, in K. Henry VI. P. I.: “She and the dauphin have been juggling.” So also tickling, wrestler, and many more. Malone. &lblank; you canker-blossom!] The canker-blossom is not in this place the blossom of the canker or wild rose, which our author alludes to in Much Ado about Nothing, Act I. Sc. III.: “I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace:” but a worm that preys on the leaves or buds of flowers, always beginning in the middle. So, in this play, Act II. Sc. III.: “Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 605 8&lblank; thou painted maypole?] So, in Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 8vo. 1583: “But their cheefest iewell thei bryng from thence is their Maie pole, whiche thei bryng home with great veneration, as thus: Thei have twentie or fourtie yoke of oxen, every oxe hauyng a sweete nosegaie of flowers placed on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home this Maie pole, (this stinckyng idoll rather) whiche is couered all ouer with flowers and hearbes bounde rounde aboute with strynges from the top to the bottome, and some tyme painted with variable colours,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 606 9&lblank; curst;] i. e. shrewish or mischievous. Thus in the old proverbial saying: “Curst cows have short horns.” Steevens.

Note return to page 607 1&lblank; how fond I am.] Fond, i. e. foolish. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; I do wonder, “Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond “To come abroad with him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 608 2She was a vixen, when she went to school;] Vixen or fixen primitively signifies a female fox. So, in The Boke of Hunting, that is cleped Mayster of Game; an ancient MS. in the collection of Francis Douce, Esq. Gray's Inn: “The fixen of the Foxe is assaute onys in the yer. She hath venomous biting as a wolfe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 609 3&lblank; of hind'ring knot-grass made;] It appears that knot-grass was anciently supposed to prevent the growth of any animal or child. Beaumont and Fletcher mention this property of it in The Knight of the Burning Pestle: “Should they put him into a straight pair of gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.” Again, in the Coxcomb: “We want a boy extremely for this function, kept under, for a year, with milk and knot-grass.” Daisy-roots were supposed to have the same effect. That prince of verbose and pedantic coxcombs, Richard Tomlinson, apothecary, in his translation of Renodæus his Dispensatory, 1657, informs us that knot-grass “is a low reptant hearb, with exile, copious, nodose, and geniculated branches.” Perhaps no hypochondriack is to be found, who might not derive his cure from the perusal of any single chapter in this work. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 4&lblank; intend &lblank;] i. e. pretend. So,in Much Ado: “Intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio.” Steevens.

Note return to page 611 5&lblank; Thou shalt aby it.] To aby is to pay dear for, to suffer. So, in The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “&lblank; Had I sword and buckler here, “You should aby these questions.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “&lblank; but thou shalt dear aby this blow.” Steevens. “Thou shalt aby it.” Aby it, is abide by it; i. e. stand to it, answer to it. So, in Psalm cxxx. v. 3, in Common Prayer: “If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss: O Lord, who may abide it?” Harris.

Note return to page 612 6Or thine or mine, &c.] The old copies read—Of thine. The emendation is Mr. Theobald's. I am not sure that the old reading is corrupt. If the line had run—“Of mine or thine,” I should have suspected that the phrase was borrowed from the Latin:—Now follow, to try whose right of property,—of meam or tuum,—is the greatest in Helena. Malone.

Note return to page 613 *First folio omits this speech.

Note return to page 614 †So both the quartos; folio, willingly.

Note return to page 615 ‡Quarto R., and folio, hath.

Note return to page 616 7&lblank; so did sort,] So happen in the issue. Johnson. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606; “&lblank; never look to have any action sort to your honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 617 8&lblank; virtuous property,] Salutiferous. So he calls, in The Tempest, poisonous dew, wicked dew. Johnson.

Note return to page 618 9&lblank; wend,] i. e. go. So, in the Comedy of Errors: “Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend.” Steevens.

Note return to page 619 *So Quarto F.; Quarto R. apply; folio, imply.

Note return to page 620 1For night's swift dragons, &c.] So, in Cymbeline, Act II. Sc. II.: “Swift, swift, ye dragons of the night!” See my note on this passage, concerning the vigilance imputed to the serpent tribe. Steevens. This circumstance Shakspeare might have learned from a passage in Golding's translation of Ovid, which he has imitated in The Tempest: “Among the earth-bred brothers you a mortal war did set, “And brought asleep the dragon fell, whose eyes were never shet.” Malone.

Note return to page 621 2&lblank; damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial,] The ghosts of self-murderers, who are buried in cross-roads; and of those who being drowned, were condemned (according to the opinion of the ancients) to wander for a hundred years, as the rites of sepulture had never been regularly bestowed on their bodies. That the waters were sometimes the place of residence for damned spirits, we learn from the ancient bl. l. romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “Let some preest a gospel saye, “For doute of fendes in the flode.” Steevens.

Note return to page 622 3&lblank; to their wormy beds &lblank;] This periphrasis for the grave has been borrowed by Milton, in his Ode on the Death of a Fair Infant: “Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 623 4&lblank; black-brow'd night.] So, in King John: “Why, here walk I, in the black-brow of night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 624 5I with the morning's love have oft made sport;] Thus all the old copies, and I think, rightly. Tithonus was the husband of Aurora, and Tithonus was no young deity. Thus, in Aurora, a collection of sonnets, by Lord Sterline, 1604: “And why should Tithon thus, whose day grows late, “Enjoy the morning's love?” Again, in The Parasitaster, by J. Marston, 1606: “Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon's bed; “Yet blushes at it when she rises.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. iii.: “As faire Aurora rising hastily, “Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye “All night in old Tithonus' frozen bed.” Again, in The Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher: “&lblank; O, lend me all thy red, “Thou shame-fac'd morning, when from Tithon's bed “Thou risest ever-maiden?” How such a waggish spirit as the King of the Fairies might make sport with an antiquated lover, or his mistress in his absence, may be easily understood. Dr. Johnson reads with all the modern editors: “I with the morning light,” &c. Steevens. Will not this passage bear a different explanation? By the morning's love I apprehend Cephalus, the mighty hunter and paramour of Aurora, is intended. The context, “And, like a forester,” &c. seems to show that the chace was the sport which Oberon boasts he partook with the morning's love. Holt White. The connection between Aurora and Cephalus is also pointed out in one of the Poems that form a collection intitled The Phœnix Nest, &c. 4to, 1593, p. 95: “Aurora now began to rise againe “From watrie couch and from old Tithon's side, “In hope to kiss upon Acteian plaine “Yong Cephalus,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 625 6Even till the eastern gate, &c.] What the fairy monarch means to inform Puck of, is this.—That he was not compelled, like meaner spirits, to vanish at the first appearance of the dawn. Steevens.

Note return to page 626 7Puck. Ho, ho! ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not?] This exclamation would have been uttered by Puck with greater propriety, if he were not now playing an assumed character, which he, in the present instance, seems to forget. In the old song printed by Peck and Percy, in which all his gambols are related, he concludes every stanza with Ho, ho, ho! So, in Grim the Collier of Croydon: “Ho, ho, ho, my masters! No good fellowship! “Is Robin Goodfellow a bug-bear grown, “That he is not worthy to be bid sit down?” Again, in Drayton's Nymphidia: “Hoh, hoh, quoth Hob, God save thy grace.” It was not, however, as has been asserted, the appropriate exclamation, in our author's time, of this eccentric character; the devil himself having, if not a better, at least an older, title to it. So, in Histriomastix (as quoted by Mr. Steevens in a note or King Richard III.) a roaring devil enters, with the Vice on his back, Iniquity in one hand, and Juventus in the other, crying: “Ho, ho, ho! these babes mine are all.” Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle: “But Diccon, Diccon, did not the devil cry ho, ho, ho?” And, in the same play: “By the masse, ich saw him of late cal up a great blacke devill. “O, the knave cryed ho, ho, he roared and he thundered.” So, in the Epitaph attributed to Shakspeare: “Hoh! quoth the devil, 'tis my John o'Coombe.” Again, in Goulart's Histories, 1607: “The fellow . . . coming to the stove . . . sawe the Diuills in horrible formes, some sitting, some standing, others walking, some ramping against the walles, but al of them assoone as they beheld him ran unto him, crying Hoh, Hoh, what makest thou here?” Again, in the same book: “The black guests returned no answere, but roared and cryed out, Hoh sirra let alone the child, or we will teare thee all to pieces.” Indeed, from a passage in Wily Beguiled, 1606, (as quoted in the new edition of Dodsley's Old Plays,) I suspect that this same “knavish sprite” was sometimes introduced on the stage as a demi-devil: “I'll rather,” it is one Robin Goodfellow who speaks, “put on my flashing red nose, and my flaming face, and come wrap'd in a calf's skin, and cry ho, ho.” See also, Grim the Collier of Croydon. Ritson. The song above alluded to may be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. iii. p. 203. Malone.

Note return to page 627 8Where art thou?] For the sake of the measure, which is otherwise imperfect, I suppose we ought to read: “Where art thou now?” Demetrius, conceiving Lysander to have still been shifting his ground, very naturally asks him where he is at that instant. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 9&lblank; buy this dear,] i. e. thou shalt dearly pay for this. Though this is sense, and may well enough stand, yet the poet perhaps wrote—thou shalt 'by it dear. So, in another place—thou shalt aby it. So, Milton, “How dearly I abide that boast so vain.” Johnson.

Note return to page 629 1Steal me a while from mine own company.] Thus also in an address to sleep, in Daniel's tragedy of Cleopatra, 1599: “That from ourselves so steal'st ourselves away.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens is not quite accurate, when he says, that the address in Daniel's play is to sleep. The words are spoken by Cleopatra in the fifth Act, and are addressed to the aspick. After inveighing against death, “&lblank; that flies the poor distress'd, “Tortures our bodies, ere he takes our breath, “And loads with pains the already weak oppress'd, &c.” She adds, “Therefore come thou of wonders wonder chief, “That open can'st with such an easy key “The dore of life, come, gentle cunning thief, “That from ourselves so steal'st ourselves away.” Cleopatra, 1594. Malone.

Note return to page 630 2When thou wak'st, Thou tak'st, &c.] The second line would be improved, I think, both in its measure and construction, if it were written thus: “When thou wak'st, “See thou tak'st “True delight,” &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 631 3Jack shall have Jill; &c.] These three last lines are to be found among Heywood's Epigrams on Three Hundred Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 632 4&lblank; all shall be well.] Well is so bad a rhyme to ill, that I cannot help supposing our author wrote—still; i. e. all this discord shall subside in a calm, become hushed and quiet. So, in Othello: “&lblank; Ha! no more moving? “Still as the grave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 633 5I see no reason why the fourth Act should begin here, when there seems no interruption of the action. In the old quartos of 1600, there is no division of acts, which seems to have been afterwards arbitrarily made in the first folio, and may therefore be altered at pleasure. Johnson.

Note return to page 634 6&lblank; do coy,] To coy, is to sooth, to stroke. So, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “Plays with Amyntas' lusty boy, and coys him in the dales.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, book vi. chap. xxx.: “And whilst she coys his sooty cheeks, or curls his sweaty top.” Again, in Sir A. Gorges' translation of Lucan, b. ix.: “&lblank; his sports to prove, “Coying that powerful queen of love.” Again, in Golding's translation of the 7th book of Ovid's Metamorphosis: “Their dangling dewclaps with his hand he coid unfearfully.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; and with her hand had coid “The dragons' reined neckes &lblank;.” The behaviour of Titania, on this occasion, seems copied from that of the lady in Apuleius, lib. viii. Steevens.

Note return to page 635 7&lblank; neif,] i. e. fist. So, in King Henry IV. Act. II. Sc. X.: “Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif.” Grey.

Note return to page 636 8&lblank; cavalero Cobweb &lblank;] Without doubt it should be cavalero Peas-blossom; as for cavalero Cobweb, he had just been dispatched upon a perilous adventure. Grey.

Note return to page 637 9&lblank; the tongs &lblank;] The old rustick musick of the tongs and key. The folio has this stage direction: “Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.” This rough musick is likewise mentioned by Marston, in an address ad rithmum prefixed to the second Book of his Satires, 1598: “Yee wel-match'd twins (whose like-tun'd tongs affords “Such musical delight,)” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 638 1The squirrel's hoard,] Hoard is here employed as a dissyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 639 2&lblank; and be all ways away.] i. e. disperse yourselves, and scout out severally, in your watch, that danger approach us from no quarter. Theobald. The old copies read—“be always.” Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone. Mr. Upton reads: And be away—away. Johnson. Mr. Heath would read—and be always i' the way. Steevens.

Note return to page 640 3So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle, Gently entwist,—the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.] What does the woodbine entwist? The honey-suckle. But the woodbine and honey-suckle were, till now, but two names for one and the same plant, Florio, in his Italian Dictionary, interprets Madre Selva by woodbine or honie-suckle. We must therefore find a support for the woodbine as well as for the ivy. Which is done by reading the lines thus: So doth the woodbine, the sweet honey-suckle, Gently entwist the maple; ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. The corruption might happen by the first blunderer dropping the p in writing the word maple, which word thence became male. A following transcriber, for the sake of a little sense and measure, though fit to change this male into female; and then tacked it as an epithet to ivy. Warburton. Mr. Upton reads: So doth the woodrine the sweet honey suckle, for bark of the wood. Shakspeare perhaps only meant, so the leaves involve the flower, using woodbine for the plant, and honey-suckle for the flower; or perhaps Shakspeare made a blunder. Johnson. The thought is Chaucer's. See his Troilus and Cresseide, v. 1236, lib. iii.: “And as about a tre with many a twist “Bitrent and writhin is the swete woodbinde, “Gan eche of hem in armis other winde.” What Shakspeare seems to mean, is this—So the woodbine, i. e. the sweet honey-suckle, doth gently entwist the barky fingers of the elm, and so does the female ivy enring the same fingers. It is not unfrequent in the poets, as well as other writers, to explain one word by another which is better known. The reason why Shakspeare thought woodbine wanted illustration, perhaps is this. In some counties, by woodbine or woodbind would have been generally understood the ivy, which he had occasion to mention in the very next line. In the following instance from Old Fortunatus, 1600, woodbind is used for ivy: “And, as the running wood-bind, spread her arms “To choak thy with'ring boughs in her embrace.” And Barrett in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, enforces the same distinction that Shakspeare thought it necessary to make: “Woodbin that beareth the honey-suckle.” Steevens. This passage has given rise to various conjectures. It is certain, that the wood-bine and the honey-suckle were sometimes considered as different plants. In one of Taylor's Poems, we have— “The woodbine, primrose, and the cowslip fine, “The honisuckle, and the daffadill.” But I think Mr. Steevens's interpretation the true one. The old writers did not always carry the auxiliary verb forward, as Mr. Capell seems to suppose by his alteration of enrings to enring. So, Bishop Lowth, in his excellent Introduction to Grammar, p. 126, has without reason corrected a similar passage in our translation of St. Matthew. Farmer. Were any change necessary, I should not scruple to read the weedbind, i. e. similax: a plant that twists round every other that grows in its way. In a very ancient translation of “Macer's Herball, practysed by Docter Lynacre,” is the following passage: “Caprifolium is an herbe called woodbynde or withwynde, this groweth in hedges or in woodes, and it wyll beclyp a tre in her growynge, as doth yvye, and hath white flowers.” Steevens. In Lord Bacon's Nat. Hist. Experiment 496, it is observed, that there are two kinds of “honey-suckles, both the woodbine and trefoil,” i. e. the first is a plant that winds about trees, and the other is a three-leaved grass. Perhaps these are meant in Dr. Farmer's quotation. The distinction, however, may serve to shew why Shakspeare and other authors frequently added woodbine to honey-suckle, when they mean the plant and not the grass. Tollet. The interpretation of either Dr. Johnson or Mr. Steevens removes all difficulty. The following passage in Sicily and Naples, or The Fatal Union, 1640, in which the honeysuckle is spoken of as the flower, and the woodbine as the plant, adds some support to Dr. Johnson's exposition: “&lblank; as fit a gift “As this were for a lord.—a honey-suckle, “The amorous woodbine's offspring.” But Minshieu in v. Woodbinde, supposes them the same: “Alio nomine nobis Anglis Honysuckle dictus.” If Dr. Johnson's explanation be right, there should be no point after woodbine, honeysuckle, or enrings. Malone. Mr. Gifford observes that these lines may be illustrated by a passage in Ben Jonson's Vision of Delight: “&lblank; Behold “How the blue bind weed doth itself infold “With honeysuckle!” “The woodbine of Shakspeare, (he remarks) is the blue bindweed of Jonson. In many of our counties the woodbine is still the name for the great convolvolus.” Boswell.

Note return to page 641 4&lblank; the female ivy &lblank;] Shakspeare calls it female ivy, because it always requires some support, which is poetically called its husband. So Milton: “&lblank; led the vine “To wed her elm: she spous'd, about him twines “Her marriageable arms &lblank;.” “Ulmo conjuncta marito.” Catull. “Platanusque cælebs “Evincet ulmos.” Hor. Steevens. Though the ivy here represents the female, there is, notwithstanding, an evident reference in the words enrings and fingers, to the ring of the marriage rite. Henley. In our ancient marriage ceremony, (or rather, perhaps, contract,) the woman gave the man a ring, as well as received one from him. To this custom the conduct of Olivia (See Twelfth-Night, Sc. ult.) bears sufficient testimony: “A contract of eternal bond of love, &c. “Strengthened by interchangement of your rings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 642 5&lblank; sweet savours &lblank;] Thus Roberts's quarto, and the first folio. Fisher's quarto reads—favours; which, taken in the sense of ornaments, such as are worn at weddings, may be right. Steevens.

Note return to page 643 6&lblank; flourets' eyes,] The eye of a flower is the technical term for its center. Thus Milton, in his Lycidas, v. 139: “Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 644 7That he awaking when the other do,] Such is the reading of the old copies, and such was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age; though the modern editors have departed from it.—So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “&lblank; and unbound the rest, and then came in the other.” Again, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “For the other, Sir John, let me see,” &c. So, in the epistle prefixed to Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, by Thomas Nashe, 4to. 1592: “I hope they will give me leave to think there be fooles of that art, as well as of all other.” Malone.

Note return to page 645 8Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower &lblank;] The old copies read—or Cupid's. Corrected by Dr. Thirlby. The herb now employed is styled Diana's bud, because it is applied as an antidote to that charm which had constrained Titania to dote on Bottom with “the soul of love.” Malone. Dian's bud, is the bud of the Agnus Castus, or Chaste Tree. Thus, in “Macer's Herball, practysed by Doctor Lynacre, translated out of Laten into Englysshe,” &c. bl. l. no date: “The vertue of this herbe is, that he wyll kepe man and woman chaste,” &c. Cupid's flower, is the Viola tricolor, or Love in idleness. Steevens.

Note return to page 646 9&lblank; of all these five the sense.] The old copies read—these fine; but this most certainly is corrupt. My emendation needs no justification. The five, that lay asleep on the stage were Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, Helena, and Bottom.—Dr. Thirlby likewise communicated this very correction. Theobald.

Note return to page 647 1Dance in duke Theseus house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity:] I have preferred this, which is the reading of the first and best quarto, printed by Fisher, to that of the other quarto and the folio, (posterity,) induced by the following lines in a former scene: “&lblank; your warrior love “To Theseus must be wedded, and you come “To give their bed joy and prosperity.” Malone. “&lblank; to all fair posterity:” We should read: “&lblank; to all far posterity.” i. e. to the remotest posterity. Warburton. Fair posterity is the right reading. In the concluding song, where Oberon blesses the nuptial bed, part of his benediction is, that the posterity of Theseus shall be fair: “And the blots of nature's hand “Shall not in their issue stand; “Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, “Nor mark prodigious, such as are “Despised in nativity, “Shall upon their children be.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 648 2Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade:] Sad signifies only grave, sober; and is opposed to their dances and revels, which were now ended at the singing of the morning lark. So, in The Winter's Tale, Act IV.: “My father and the gentlemen are in sad talk.” For grave or serious. Warburton. A statue 3 Henry VII. c. xiv. directs certain offences committed in the king's palace, to be tried by twelve sad men of the king's houshold. Blackstone.

Note return to page 649 3&lblank; our observation is perform'd:] The honours due to the morning of May. I know not why Shakspeare calls this play A Midsummer-Night's Dream, when he so carefully informs us that it happened on the night preceding May day. Johnson. The title of this play seems no more intended, to denote the precise time of the action, than that of The Winter's Tale; which we find, was at the season of sheep-shearing. Farmer. The same phrase has been used in a former scene: “To do observance to a morn of May.” I imagine that the title of this play was suggested by the time it was first introduced on the stage, which was probably at Midsummer. “A Dream for the entertainment of a Midsummer-night.” Twelfth-Night and The Winter's Tale had probably their titles from a similar circumstance. Malone. In Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. IV. Olivia observes of Malvolio's seeming frenzy, that it “is a very Midsummer madness.” That time of the year we may therefore suppose was anciently thought productive of mental vagaries resembling the scheme of Shakspeare's play. To this circumstance it might have owed its title. Steevens.

Note return to page 650 4&lblank; the vaward of the day,] Vaward is compounded of van and ward, the forepart. In Knolles's History of the Turks, the word vayvod is used in the same sense. Edinburgh Magazine, for Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 651 *Thus the quartos; the folio, let them go.

Note return to page 652 5&lblank; they bay'd the bear &lblank;] Thus all the old copies. And thus in Chaucer's Knightes Tale, v. 2020, Tyrwhitt's edit.: “The hunte ystrangled with the wild beres.” Bearbaiting was likewise once a diversion esteemed proper for royal personages, even of the softer sex. While the princess Elizabeth remained at Hatfield House, under the custody of Sir Thomas Pope, she was visited by Queen Mary. The next morning they were entertained with a grand exhibition of bearbaiting, “with which their highnesses were right well content.” See Life of Sir Thomas Pope, cited by Warton in his History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 391. Steevens. In The Winter's Tale Antigonus is destroyed by a bear, who is chased by hunters. See also our poet's Venus and Adonis: “For now she hears it is no gentle chace, “But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud.” Malone. Holinshed, with whose histories our poet was well acquainted, says, “the beare is a beast commonlie hunted in the East countrie.” See vol. i. p. 206; and in p. 226, he says, “Alexander at vacant time hunted the tiger, the pard, the bore, and the beare.” Pliny, Plutarch, &c. mention bear-hunting. Turberville, in his Book of Hunting, has two chapters on hunting the bear. As the persons mentioned by the poet are foreigners of the heroic strain, he might perhaps think it nobler sport for them to hunt the bear than the boar. Shakspeare must have read the Knight's Tale in Chaucer, wherein are mentioned Theseus's “white alandes [grey-hounds] to huntin at the lyon, or the wild bere.” Tollet.

Note return to page 653 6&lblank; such gallant chiding:] Chiding in this instance means only sound. So, in King Henry VIII.: “As doth a rock against the chiding flood.” Again, in Humour out of Breath, a comedy, by John Day, 1608: “&lblank; I take great pride “To hear soft musick, and thy shrill voice chide.” Again, in the 22d chapter of Drayton's Polyolbion: “&lblank; drums and trumpets chide.” This use of the word was not obsolete in the age of Milton, who says, in his Smeetymnuus: “I may one day hope to have ye again in a still time, when there shall be no chiding. Not in these noises.” See edit. 1753, p. 118. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 7The skies, the fountains,] Instead of fountains, Mr. Heath would read—mountains. The change had been proposed to Mr. Theobald, who has well supported the old reading, by observing that Virgil and other poets have made rivers, lakes, &c. responsive to sound: “Tum vero exoritur clamor, ripæque lacusque “Responsant circa, et cœlum tonat omne tumultu.” Malone.

Note return to page 655 8Seem'd all one mutual cry:] The old copies concur in reading —seem; but, as Hippolyta is speaking of time past, I have adopted Mr. Rowe's correction [from the second folio]. Steevens.

Note return to page 656 9My hounds are bred, &c.] So, in Jonson's Entertainment at Althrope: “The bow was Phœbus, and the horn “By Orion often worn: “The dog of Sparta breed, and good &lblank;.”. This passage has been imitated by Lee, in his Theodosius: “Then through the woods we chac'd the foaming boar, “With hounds that opened like Thessalian bulls; “Like tigers flew'd, and sanded as the shore, “With ears and chests that dash'd the morning dew.” Malone.

Note return to page 657 1So flew'd,] Sir T. Hanmer justly remarks, that flews are the large chaps of a deep-mouth'd hound. Arthur Golding uses this word in his translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, finished 1567, a book with which Shakspeare appears to have been well acquainted. The poet is describing Actæon's hounds, b. iii. p. 34, b. 1575. Two of them, like our author's, were of Spartan kind; bred from a Spartan bitch and a Cretan dog: “&lblank; with other twaine, that had a syre of Crete, “And dam of Sparta: tone of them called Jollyboy, a great “And large-flew'd hound.” Shakspeare mentions Cretan hounds (with Spartan) afterwards in this speech of Theseus. And Ovid's translator, Golding, in the same description, has them both in one verse, ibid. p. 34, a: “This latter was a hounde of Crete, the other was of Spart.” T. Warton.

Note return to page 658 2So sanded;] So marked with small spots. Johnson. Sanded means of a sandy colour, which is one of the true denotements of a blood-hound. Steevens.

Note return to page 659 3With ears that sweep away the morning dew;] So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “&lblank; the fierce Thessalian hounds, “With their flag ears, ready to sweep the dew “From their moist breasts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 4I wonder of &lblank;] The modern editors read—I wonder at, &c. But changes of this kind ought, I conceive, to be made with great caution; for the writings of our author's contemporaries furnish us with abundant proofs that many modes of speech, which now seem harsh to our ears, were justified by the phraseology of former times. In All's Well that Ends Well, we have: “&lblank; thou dislik'st “Of virtue, for the name.” Malone.

Note return to page 661 5&lblank; they rose up early, to observe The rite of May;] The rite of this month was once so universally observed, that even authors thought their works would obtain a more favourable reception, if published on May-Day. The following is a title-page to a metrical performance by a once celebrated poet, Thomas Churchyard: “Come bring in Maye with me,   “My Maye is fresh and greene; “A subiectes harte, an humble mind,   “To serue a mayden Queene.” “A discourse of Rebellion, drawne forth for to warne the wanton wittes how to kepe their heads on their shoulders.” “Imprinted at London, in Fletestreat by William Griffith, Anno Domini 1570. The first of Maye.” Steevens.

Note return to page 662 6&lblank; Saint Valentine is past;] Alluding to the old saying, that birds begin to couple on St. Valentine's day. Steevens.

Note return to page 663 7Fair Helena in fancy following me.] Fancy is here taken for love or affection, and is opposed to fury, as before: “Sighs and tears, poor Fancy's followers.” Some now call that which a man takes particular delight in, his fancy. Flower-fancier, for a florist, and bird-fancier, for a lover and feeder of birds, are colloquial words. Johnson. So, in Barnaby Googe's Cupido Conquered, 1563; “The chyefe of them was Ismenis,   “Whom best Diana lov'd, “And next in place sat Hyale   “Whom Fancye never mov'd.” Again, in Hymen's Triumph, a Masque, by Daniel, 1623: “With all persuasions sought to win her mind   “To fancy him.” Again: “Do not enforce me to accept a man “I cannot fancy.” Steevens. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “A martial man to be soft fancy's slave?”

Note return to page 664 8&lblank; as doth the snow,] The word doth, which seems to have been inadvertently omitted, was supplied by Mr. Capel. The emendation here made is confirmed by a passage in K. Henry V.: “&lblank; as doth the melted snow “Upon the vallies.”

Note return to page 665 9&lblank; an idle gawd,] See note on this word, p. 178. Steevens.

Note return to page 666 1&lblank; ere I saw Hermia:] The old copies read—ere I see. Steevens.

Note return to page 667 2&lblank; like in sickness,] So, in the next line—“as in health &lblank;.” The old copies erroneously read—“like a sickness.” I owe the present correction to Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 668 3Come, Hippolyta.] I suppose, for the sake of measure, we should read—“Come, my Hippolyta.” Steevens.

Note return to page 669 4And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own.] Hermia had observed that things appeared double to her. Helena replies, so, methinks; and then subjoins, that Demetrius was like a jewel, her own and not her own. He is here, then, compared to something which had the property of appearing to be one thing when it was another. Not the property sure of a jewel; or, if you will, of none but a false one. We should read: And I have found Demetrius like a gemell, Mine own, and not mine own. From Gemellus, a twin. For Demetrius had that night acted two such different parts, that she could hardly think them both played by one and the same Demetrius; but that there were twin Demetriuses like the two Sosias in the farce. From Gemellus comes the French, Gemeau or Jumcau, and in the feminine, Gemelle or Jumelle: So, in Maçon's translation of The Decameron of Boccace: “Il avoit trois filles plus âgées que les masles, des quelles les deux qui estoient jumelles avoient quinze ans.” Quatrieme Jour. Nov. 3. Warburton. This emendation is ingenious enough to deserve to be true. Johnson. Dr. Warburton has been accused of coining the word gemell: but Drayton has it in the preface to his Baron's Wars: “The quadrin doth never double; or to use a word of heraldrie, never bringeth forth gemels.” Farmer. Again: “&lblank;unless they had been all gemels or couplets.” Steevens. Helena, I think, means to say, that having found Demetrius unexpectedly, she considered her property in him as insecure as that which a person has in a jewel that he has found by accident; which he knows not whether he shall retain, and which therefore may properly enough be called his own and not his own. She does not say, as Dr. Warburton has represented, that Demetrius was like a jewel, but that she had found him like a jewel, &c. A kindred thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; by starts “His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear “Of what he has, and has not.” The same kind of expression is found also in The Merchant of Venice: “Where every something, being blent together, “Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, “Exprest, and not exprest.” Again, ibidem: “And so, though yours, not yours.” Malone. See, also, Mr. Heath's Revisal, p. 57. Reed.

Note return to page 670 5It seems to me,] Thus the folio. The quartos begin this speech as follows: “&lblank; Are you sure “That we are awake?” I had once injudiciously restored these words; but they add no weight to the sense of the passage, and create such a defect in the measure as is best remedied by their omission. Steevens. “Are you sure “That we are awake?” Sure is here used as a dissyllable: so sire, fire, hour, &c. The word now [That we are now awake,] seems to be wanting, to complete the metre of the next line. Malone. I cannot accede to a belief that sure was ever employed as a dissyllable, much less at the end of a verse. Fire (anciently spelt fier) and hour (anciently spelt hower) might be dissyllabically used, because the duplicate vowels in each of them were readily separated in pronunciation. Our author might have written: But are you sure That we are now awake? Having exhibited this passage, however, only in my note on the hemistich that follows it, I have little solicitude for its reformation. Steevens.

Note return to page 671 6&lblank; patched fool,] That is, a fool in a parti-colour'd coat. Johnson.

Note return to page 672 7&lblank; I shall sing it at her death.] At whose death? In Bottom's speech there is no mention of any she-creature, to whom this relative can be coupled. I make not the least scruple but Bottom, for the sake of a jest, and to render his voluntary, as we may call it, the more gracious and extraordinary, said:—I shall sing it after death. He, as Pyramus, is kill'd upon the scene; and so might promise to rise again at the conclusion of the interlude, and give the Duke his dream by way of song. The source of the corruption of the text is very obvious. The f in after being sunk by the vulgar pronunciation, the copyist might write it from the sound,—a'ter; which the wise editors not understanding, concluded, two words were erroneously got together; so, splitting them, and clapping in an h, produced the present reading—at her. Theobald. Theobald might have quoted the following passage in The Tempest in support of his emendation. “This is a very scurvy tune (says Trinculo,) for a man to sing at his funeral.”—Yet I believe the text is right. Malone. “&lblank; at her death.” He may mean the death of Thisbe, which his head might be at present full of; and yet I cannot but prefer the happy conjecture of Mr. Theobald to my own attempt at explanation. Steevens.

Note return to page 673 8&lblank; a thing of nought.] This Mr. Theobald changes with great pomp to a thing of naught; i. e. a good for nothing thing. Johnson. A thing of naught may be the true reading. So, in Hamlet: “Ham. The king is a thing— “Guil. A thing my lord? “Ham. Of nothing.” See the note on this passage. Paramour being a word which Flute did not understand, he may design to say that it had no meaning, i. e. was a thing of nought. Mr. M. Mason, however, is of a different opinion. “The ejaculation, (says he,) God bless us! proves that Flute imagined he was saying a naughty word.” Steevens. The double meaning (understanding paramour in the sense of concubine) was undoubtedly intended to be conveyed. See King Richard III. Act. II. Sc. I.: “Bra. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. “Rich. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! “I tell thee, fellow, “He that doth naught with her, excepting one, “Were best to do it secretly, alone.” Malone.

Note return to page 674 9&lblank; made men.] In the same sense as in The Tempest, “&lblank; any monster in England makes a man.” Johnson.

Note return to page 675 1&lblank; sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.] Shakspeare has already ridiculed the title-page of Cambyses, by Thomas Preston; and here he seems to allude to him, or some other person who, like him, had been pensioned for his dramatic abilities. Preston acted a part in John Ritwise's play of Dido before Queen Elizabeth at Cambridge, in 1564; and the Queen was so well pleased, that she bestowed on him a pension of twenty pounds a year, which is little more than a shilling a day. Steevens.

Note return to page 676 *Folio omits right.

Note return to page 677 2&lblank; good strings to your beards,] i. e. to prevent the false beards, which they were to wear, from falling off. Malone. As no false beard could be worn, without a ligature to fasten it on, (and a slender one would suffice,) the caution of Bottom, considered in such a light, is superfluous. I suspect therefore that the good strings recommended by him were ornamental, or employed to give an air of novelty to the countenances of the performers. Thus, in Measure for Measure, (where the natural beard is unquestionably spoken of,) the Duke, intent on disfiguring the head of Ragozine, says: “O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard.” Steevens. And so because strings were absolutely necessary to fasten their beards, it would be superfluous for Bottom to recommend that they should be sound and good! As they were to have new ribbons to their shoes, so were they to have good or new strings to their beards. Malone.

Note return to page 678 3&lblank; our play is preferred.] This word is not to be understood in its most common acceptation here, as if their play was chosen in preference to the others; (for that appears afterwards not to be the fact;) but means, that it was given in among others for the duke's option. So, in Julius Cæsar, Decius says: “Where is Metellus Cimber? let him go “And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.” Theobald.

Note return to page 679 4&lblank; such seething brains,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; thy brains, “Now useless, boil'd within thy scull.” Steevens. We meet with the same expression in The Winter's Tale: “Would any but these boil'd brains of three and twenty hunt this weather?” Malone.

Note return to page 680 5The lunatick, the lover, and the poet,] An ingenious modern writer supposes that our author had here in contemplation Orestes, Mark Antony, and himself; but I do not recollect any passage in his works that shows him to have been acquainted with the story of Agamemnon's son,—scelerum furiis agitatus Orestes: and indeed, if even such were found, the supposed allusion would still remain very problematical. Malone.

Note return to page 681 6Are of imagination all compact:] i. e. are made of mere imagination. So, in As You Like It: “If he, compact of jars, grow musical.” Steevens. So, in Nashe's Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil: “The Frenchman (not altered from his own nature) is whollie compact of deceivable courtship.” Malone.

Note return to page 682 7That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantick,] Such is the reading of all the old copies; instead of which, the modern editors have given us: “The madman: while the lover,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 683 8Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:] By “a brow of Egypt,” Shakspeare means no more than the brow of a gypsey. So much for some ingenious modern's ideal Cleopatra. See note 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 684 9&lblank; in a fine frenzy rolling,] This seems to have been imitated by Drayton in his Epistle to J. Reynolds on Poets and Poetry: describing Marlowe, he says: “&lblank; that fine madness still he did retain, “Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.” Malone.

Note return to page 685 1&lblank; constancy:] Consistency, stability, certainty. Johnson.

Note return to page 686 2Call Philostrate.] In the folio, 1623, it is, “Call Egeus,” and all the speeches afterwards spoken by Philostrate, except that beginning, “No, my noble lord,” &c. are there given to that character. But the modern editions, from the quarto 1600, have rightly given them to Philostrate, who appears in the first scene as master of the revels to Theseus, and is there sent out on a similar kind of errand. In The Knight's Tale of Chaucer, Arcite, under the name of Philostrate, is squire of the chamber to Theseus. Steevens.

Note return to page 687 3Say, what abridgment, &c.] By abridgment our author may mean a dramatick performance, which crowds the events of years into a few hours. So, in Hamlet, Act II. Sc. VII. he calls the players “abridgments, abstracts, and brief chronicles of the time.” Again, in K. Henry V.: “Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance “After your thoughts &lblank;.” It may be worth while, however, to observe, that in the North the word abatement had the same meaning as diversion or amusement. So, in the Prologue to the 5th book of G. Douglas's version of the Æneid: “Ful mony mery abaitmentis followis here.” Steevens. Does not abridgment in the present instance, signify amusement to beguile the tediousness of the evening? or, in one word, pastime? Henley.

Note return to page 688 4&lblank; a brief,] i. e. a short account or enumeration. So, in Gascoigne's Dulce Bellum Inexpertis: “She sent a brief unto me by her mayd.” Again, in King John: “&lblank; the hand of time “Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 5&lblank; are ripe;] One of the quartos has—ripe; the other old editions—rife. Johnson. Ripe is the reading of Fisher's quarto. Rife, however, is a word used both by Sidney and Spenser. It means abounding, but is now almost obsolete. Thus, in the Arcadia, lib. ii.: “A shop of shame, a booke where blots be rife.” Again, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “&lblank; you shall find the theatres of the one, and the abuses of the other, to be rife among us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 690 6The. reads.] This is printed as Mr. Theobald gave it from both the old quartos. In the first folio, and all the following editions, Lysander reads the catalogue, and Theseus makes the remarks. Johnson.

Note return to page 691 7By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.] This seems to imply a more ancient practice of castration for the voice, than can be found in opera annals. Burney. So, in Whetstone's Heptameron, 1582: “Which done, the eunuch, with a well-tuned voice to the lute, sung this following, —Care, away.” Malone.

Note return to page 692 8The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of learning, &c.] I do not know whether it has been before observed, that Shakspeare here, perhaps, alluded to Spenser's poem, entitled The Tears of the Muses, on the Neglect and Contempt of Learning. This piece first appeared in quarto, with others, 1591. The oldest edition of this play now known is dated 1600. If Spenser's poem be here intended, may we not presume that there is some earlier edition of this? But, however, if the allusion be allowed, at least it seems to bring the play below 1591. T. Warton.

Note return to page 693 9&lblank; keen, and critical,] Critical here means criticising, censuring. So, in Othello: “O, I am nothing if not critical.” Steevens.

Note return to page 694 1Merry and tragical?] Our poet is still harping on Cambyses, of which the first edition might have appeared in 1569–70; when “an Enterlude, a lamentable Tragedy full of pleasant Myrth,” was licensed to John Alde, Regist. Stat. fol. 184, b. Steevens.

Note return to page 695 2That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow.] The nonsense of this line should be corrected thus: “That is, hot ice, a wonderous strange show.” Warburton. Mr. Upton reads, and not improbably: “And wonderous strange black snow.” Johnson. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—wonderous scorching snow.” Mr. Pope omits the line entirely. I think the passage needs no change, on account of the versification; for wonderous is as often used as three, as it is as two syllables. The meaning of the line is— &lblank; hot ice, and snow of as strange a quality. There is, however, an ancient pamphlet entitled, “Tarlton's Devise upon this unlooked for grete Snowe.” And perhaps the passage before us may contain some allusion to it. This work is entered on the books of the Stationers' Company; as also, “A Ballet of a Northerne Man's Report of the wonderful great Snowe in the Southerne Parts,” &c. Steevens. As there is no antithesis between strange and snow, as there is between hot and ice, I believe we should read—and wonderous strong snow. M. Mason. In support of Mr. Mason's conjecture it may be observed that the words strong and strange are often confounded in our old plays. Mr. Upton's emendation also may derive some support from a passage in Macbeth: “&lblank; when they shall be opened, black Macbeth “Shall seem as pure as snow.” Malone.

Note return to page 696 3&lblank; unbreath'd memories &lblank;] That is, unexercised, unpractised memories. Steevens. In 1575, when Queen Elizabeth visited Kenilworth, and was entertained with every sport which either the refinement or rusticity of the times could furnish, among those of the latter kind,— “certain good harted men of Coventree understanding how carefull his honour [the Earl of Leicester] waz that by all pleazaunt recreations her Highnes might best fynd her self well com— made petition that they mought renue their old storial shew.” As the whole country for many miles round no doubt flocked to see the queen and her magnificent entertainment, nothing can, I think, be more probable than that young Shakspeare, then in the twelfth year of his age, was taken there by some of his relations. If this were the case, we may easily suppose how much his native genius for the stage would rivet his attention to the Coventry play, and how soon his quick perception of the ludicrous would enable him to discern the absurdities of these “good harted men,” who are probably the “hard handed men that work in Athens here,” introduced in the Midsummer's-Night's Dream to act before Theseus. This is only conjecture: but it is scarcely so, that when the Duke says of himself, “Where I have come, great clerks have purposed “To greet me with premeditated welcomes; “Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, &lblank;” Shakspeare alludes to what happened (I think) at Warwick; where the recorder being to address the queen was so confounded by the dignity of her presence, as to be unable to proceed with his speech. I think it was in Nicholls's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, that I read this circumstance, and I have also read that her majesty was very well pleased when such a thing happened. It was therefore a very delicate way of flattering her to introduce it as Shakspeare has done here. Blakeway.

Note return to page 697 4Unless you can find sport in their intents,] Thus all the copies. But as I know not what it is to stretch and con an intent, I suspect a line to be lost. Johnson. To intend and to attend were anciently synonymous. Of this use several instances are given in a note on the third scene of the first Act of Othello. Intents therefore may be put for the object of their attention. We still say a person is intent on his business. Steevens.

Note return to page 698 5&lblank; never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it.] Ben Jonson in Cynthia's Revels has employed this sentiment of humanity on the same occasion, when Cynthia is preparing to see a masque: “Nothing which duty and desire to please, “Bears written on the forehead, comes amiss.” Steevens.

Note return to page 699 6Our sport shall be, &c.] Voltaire says something like this of Louis XIV. who took a pleasure in seeing his courtiers in confusion when they spoke to him. I am told, however, by a writer in the Edinburgh Magazine, for Nov. 1786, that I have assigned a malignant instead of a humane sentiment to Theseus, and that he really means—We will accept with pleasure even their blundering attempt. Steevens.

Note return to page 700 7And what poor duty cannot do,] The defective metre of this line shews that some word was inadvertently omitted by the transcriber or compositor. Mr. Theobald supplied the defect by reading “And what poor willing duty,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 701 8And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.] The sense of this passage, as it now stands, if it has any sense, is this:—What the inability of duty cannot perform, regardful generosity receives as an act of ability, though not of merit. The contrary is rather true:—What dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regardful generosity receives as having the merit, though not the power, of complete performance. We should therefore read: And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes not in might, but merit. Johnson. In might, is, perhaps, an elliptical expression for what might have been. Steevens. If this passage is to stand as it is, the meaning appears to be this:—and what poor duty would do, but cannot accomplish, noble respect considers as it might have been, not as it is. M. Mason. And what dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regardful generosity receives with complacency, estimating it not by the actual merit of the performance, but what it might have been, were the abilities of the performers equal to their zeal.—Such, I think, is the true interpretation of this passage; for which the reader is indebted partly to Dr. Johnson, and partly to Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 702 9Where I have come, great clerks have purposed, &c.] So, n Pericles: “She sings like one immortal, and she dances “As goddess like to her admired lays; “Deep clerks she dumbs.” It should be observed, that periods in the text is used in the sense of full points. Malone.

Note return to page 703 1&lblank; addrest.] That is, ready. So, in King Henry V.: “To-morrow for our march we are addrest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 704 2Flourish of trumpets.] It appears from The Guls Hornbook, by Decker, 1609, that the prologue was anciently ushered in by trumpets. “Present not yourselfe on the stage (especially at a new play) until the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got cullor in his cheekes, and is ready to give the trumpets their cue that hee's upon point to enter.” Steevens. The speaker of the prologue immediately entered after the third sounding of the trumpet, or as we should now say, after the third musick, and in this sense only, was ushered in by trumpets. Malone.

Note return to page 705 *So folio; quartos, this.

Note return to page 706 3&lblank; on a recorder;] Lord Bacon in his Natural History, cent. iii. sect. 221, speaks of recorders and flutes at the same instant, and says, that the recorder hath a less bore, and a greater, above and below; and elsewhere, cent. ii. sect. 187, he speaks of it as having six holes, in which respect it answers to the Tibia minor or Flajolet of Mersennus. From all which particulars it should seem that the flute and the recorder were different instruments, and that the latter in propriety of speech was no other than the flagelet. Hawkins's History of Musick, vol. iv. p. 479. Reed. Shakspeare introduces the same instrument in Hamlet; and Milton says: “&lblank; The Dorian mood “Of flutes and soft recorders.” The recorder is mentioned in many of the old plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 707 4&lblank; but not in government.] That is, not regularly, according to the tune. Steevens. Hamlet, speaking of a recorder, says:—“Govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb; give it breath with your mouth; and it will discourse most eloquent music.”—This explains the meaning of government in this passage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 708 5In this place the folio, 1623, exhibits the following prompter's direction—Tawyer with a trumpet before them. Steevens.

Note return to page 709 6This beauteous lady Thisby is, certáin.] A burlesque was here intended on the frequent recurrence of “certáin” as a bungling rhyme in poetry more ancient than the age of Shakspeare. Thus in a short poem entitled “A lytell Treatise called the Dysputacyon or the Complaynte of the Herte through perced with the Lokynge of the Eye. Imprynted at L&obar;don in Fletestrete at the Sygne of the Sonne by Wynkyn de Worde:” “And houndes syxescore and mo certayne— “To whome my thought gan to strayne certayne— “Whan I had fyrst syght of her certayne— “In all honoure she hath no pere certayne— “To loke upon a fayre Lady certayne— “As moch as is in me I am contente certayne— “They made there both two theyr promysse certayne— “All armed with margaretes certayne— “Towardes Venus when they sholde go certayne,” &c. Again, in the ancient MS. romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne: “He saide the xii peres bene alle dede, “And ye spende your good in vayne, “And therefore doth nowe by my rede, “Ye shall see them no more certeyn” Again, ibid.: “The kinge turned him ageyn, “And alle his ooste him with, “Towarde Mountribble certeyne,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 710 7To meet at Ninus' tomb, &c.] So, in Chaucer's Legend of Thisbe of Babylon: “Thei settin markes ther metingis should be, “There king Ninus was graven undir a tre.” Steevens. Again: “And as she ran her wimple she let fall,” &c. Again, Golding in his version of Ovid's Metamorphosis, b. iv. has a similar line: “And as she fled away for haste, she let her mantle fall.” Steevens.

Note return to page 711 8&lblank; which by name lion hight,] As all the other parts of this speech are in alternate rhyme, excepting that it closes with a couplet; and as no rhyme is left to name, we must conclude, either a verse is slipt out, which cannot now be retrieved; or, by a transposition of the words, as I have placed them, the poet intended a triplet. Theobald. Hight, in the English, signifies—is called.—I think it more probable that a line, following the words—by night, has been lost; that however being now irrecoverable, Theobald's conjecture has been accepted. Malone.

Note return to page 712 9&lblank; her mantle she did fall;] Thus all the old copies. The modern editors read—“she let fall,” unnecessarily. To fall in this instance is a verb active. So, in The Tempest, Act II. Sc. I.: “And when I rear my hand, do you the like, “To fall it on Gonzalo.” Steevens.

Note return to page 713 *Folio omits trusty.

Note return to page 714 1Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,] Mr. Upton rightly observes, that Shakspeare in this line ridicules the affectation of beginning many words with the same letter. He might have remarked the same of— “The raging rocks “And shivering shocks.” Gascoigne, contemporary with our poet, remarks and blames the same affectation. Johnson. It is also ridiculed by Sidney in his Astrophel and Stella, 15: “You that do Dictionaries' method bring “Into your rimes, running in rattling rowes.” But this alliteration seems to have reached the height of its fashion in the reign of Henry VIII. The following stanza is quoted from a poem On the Fall and evil Success of Rebellion, written in 1537, by Wilfride Holme: “Loe, leprous lurdeins, lubricke in loquacitie, “Vah, vaporous villeins, with venim vulnerate, “Proh, prating parenticides, plexious to pinnositie, “Fie, frantike fabulators, furibund, and fatuate, “Out, oblatrant, oblict, obstacle, and obsecate. “Ah addict algoes, in acerbitie acclamant, “Magnall in mischief, malicious to mugilate, “Repriving your Roy so renowned and radiant.” In Tusser's Husbandry, p. 104, there is a poem of which every word begins with a T; and in the old play entitled: The Historie of the Two valiant Knights, Syr Clyomon Knight of the Golden Sheeld, Sonne to the King of Denmark; and Clamydes the White Knight, Son to the King of Suavia, 1599, is another remarkable instance of alliteration: “Bringing my bark to Denmark here, to bide the bitter broyle “And beating blowes of billows high,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 715 *So folio; quartos, lome.

Note return to page 716 2And this the cranny is,] So, in Golding's Ovid, 1567: “The wall that parted house from house had riuen therein a crany “Which shronke at making of the wall. This fault not markt of any “Of many hundred yeares before (what doth not loue espie) “These louers first of all found out, and made a way thereby “To talk to gither secretly, and through the same did goe “Their louing whisperings verie light and safely to and fro.” Ritson.

Note return to page 717 3It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.] Demetrius is represented as a punster: I believe the passage should be read: This is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard in discourse. Alluding to the many stupid partitions in the argumentative writings of the time. Shakspeare himself, as well as his contemporaries, uses discourse for reasoning; and he here avails himself of the double sense; as he had done before in the word partition. Farmer.

Note return to page 718 4O wicked wall, &c.] So, in Chaucer's Legend of Thisbe: “Thus would thei saine, alas! thou wicked wal,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 5&lblank; knit up in thee.] Thus the folio. The quarto reads—knit now again. Steevens.

Note return to page 720 6And like Limander, &c.] Limander and Helen, are spoken by the blundering player, for Leander and Hero. Shafalus and Procrus, for Cephalus and Procris. Johnson. Procris and Cephalus, written by Henry Chute, was entered on the Stationers' books by John Wolf, in 1593, and probably published in the same year. It was a poem, but not dramatick, as has been suggested. Malone.

Note return to page 721 7I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.] So, Golding's Ovid: “When night drew nere, they bade adew, and eche gave “kisses sweete “Unto the parget on their side, the which did never mete.” Ritson.

Note return to page 722 8Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?] So, Golding's Ovid: “They did agree at Ninus tomb to meete without the towne.” Ritson.

Note return to page 723 9The mural &lblank;] The first folio reads—moral, instead of mural. Mr. Theobald made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 724 *Quartos, moon used.

Note return to page 725 1Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.] This alludes to the proverb, “Walls have ears.” A wall between almost any two neighbours would soon be down, were it to exercise this faculty without previous warning. Farmer.

Note return to page 726 2Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.] Mr. Theobald reads—a moon and a lion, and the emendation was adopted by the subsequent editors; but, I think, without necessity. The conceit is furnished by the person who represents the lion, and enters covered with the hide of that beast; and Theseus only means to say, that the man who represented the moon, and came in at the same time, with a lantern in his hand, and a bush of thorns at his back, was as much a beast as he who performed the part of the lion. Malone. The old copies read—a man, &c. Steevens. I don't think the jest here is either complete, or right. It is differently pointed in several of the old copies, which, I suspect, may lead us to the true reading, viz.: “Here come two noble beasts—in a man and a lion.” Immediately upon Theseus saying this, enter Lion and Moonshine. It seems very probable, therefore, that our author wrote: “&lblank; in a moon and a lion.” The one having a crescent and a lanthorn before him, and representing the man in the moon; the other in a lion's hide. Theobald. “Here come two noble beasts in, a moon, and a lion.” I cannot help supposing that we should have it, a moon-calf. The old copies read—a man; possibly man was the marginal interpretation of moon-calf; and, being more intelligible, got into the text. The man in the moon was no new character on the stage, and is here introduced in ridicule of such exhibitions. Ben Jonson in one of his masques, call'd News from the New World in the Moon, makes his Factor doubt of the person who brings the intelligence: “I must see his dog at his girdle, and the bush of thorns at his back, ere I believe it.”—“Those, (replies one of the heralds,) are stale ensigns o' the stage.” Farmer.

Note return to page 727 3Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam:] That is, that I am Snug the joiner; and neither a lion, nor a lion's dam. Dr. Johnson has justly observed in a note on All's Well that Ends Well, that nor in the phraseology of our author's time often related to two members of a sentence, though only expressed in the latter. So, in the play just mentioned: “&lblank; contempt nor bitterness “Were in his pride or sharpness.” The reading of the text is that of the folio. The quartos read —that I as Snug the joiner, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 728 *So quartos; folio, doth.

Note return to page 729 3&lblank; in snuff.] An equivocation. Snuff signifies both the cinder of a candle, and hasty anger. Johnson. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff.” Steevens. Again, in The Atheist's Tragedy, 1611: “Do you take that in snuff, sir?” See also, note on Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. Sc. II. and First Part of King Henry IV. Act I. Sc. III. Reed.

Note return to page 730 4Well moused, lion.] So, in an ancient bl. l. ballad on this story, intitled, The Constancy of true Love: &c. “And having musled thus the same, “Thither he went whence first he came.” Theseus means that the lion has well tumbled and bloodied the veil of Thisbe. Steevens. I believe this should be “Well mouthed lion,” alluding either to his roaring, or to his tearing with his mouth the mantle of Thisbe: “Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.” M. Mason. “Well moused lion.” To mouse signified to mammock, to tear in pieces, as a cat tears a mouse. Malone.

Note return to page 731 5Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes.] The old copies read: “Dem. And then came Pyramus.” “Lys. And so the lion vanished.” It were needless to say any thing in defence of Dr. Farmer's emendation. The reader indeed may ask why this glaring corruption was suffered to remain so long in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 732 6&lblank; glittering streams,] The old copies read—beams. Steevens. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 733 7Approach, ye furies fell!] Somewhat like this our poet might possibly have recollected in “A lytell Treatyse cleped La Conusaunce d'Amours. Printed by Richard Pynson,” no date: “O ye moost cruell and rabbyshe lions fell, “Come nowe and teare the corps of Pyramus! “Ye sauage beestes that in these rockes dwell, “If blode to you be so delicious, “Come and gnawe my wretched body dolorous! “And on the kerchef with face pale and tryst, “He loked ofte, and it right swetely kist.” Steevens.

Note return to page 734 8Approach, ye furies fell! O fates! come, come, &c.] The poet here, and in the following lines spoken by Thisbe— “O sisters, three, “Come, come to me, “With hands as pale as milk &lblank;” probably intended, as Dr. Farmer observed to me, to ridicule a passage in Damon and Pythias, by Richard Edwards, 1582: “Ye furies, all at once “On me your torments trie:— “Gripe me, you greedy greefs,   “And present pangues of death, “You sisters three, with cruel handes   “With speed come stop my breath!” Malone.

Note return to page 735 9&lblank; cut thread and thrum;] Thrum is the end or extremity of a weaver's warp; it is popularly used for very coarse yarn. The maids now call a mop of yarn a thrum mop. Warner. So, in Hannibal and Scipio, 1637: “&lblank; no rough pelt of thrums, “To fight with weather.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 16th Iliad: “And tapestries all golden fring'd, and curl'd with thrums behind.” So, in Howell's Letter to Sir Paul Neale, Knt. “Translations are like the wrong side of a Turkey carpet, which useth to be full of thrums and knots, and nothing so even as the right side.” The thought is borrowed from Don Quixote. Steevens.

Note return to page 736 1&lblank; and quell!] To quell is to murther, to destroy. So, in the 12th pageant of the Lusus Coventriæ, commonly called the Corpus Christi Play. MS. Cott. Vesp. D. viii.: “That he the lawe may here do, “With stonys her to quell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 737 2&lblank; cheer.] i. e. countenance. So, in Chaucer's Clerke's Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 8117: “&lblank; passing any wight “Of so yong age, as wel in chere as dede.” Steevens.

Note return to page 738 3Come, tears, confound;] Thus, in Golding's Ovid: “&lblank; one night (he sayd) shall louers two confounde.” Ritson.

Note return to page 739 4Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop:] Lest our author should seem chargeable with an inefficient rhyme, it ought to be remembered that the broad pronunciation, now almost peculiar to the Scotch, was anciently current in England. Throughout the old copies of Shakspeare's plays, “tattered” is always spelt “tottered; pap therefore was sounded, pop. The context reminds us of a passage in the seventh Satire of Juvenal: “&lblank; læva in parte mamillæ “Nil salit &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 740 5&lblank; and prove an ass.] The character of Theseus throughout this play is more exalted in its humanity, than its greatness. Though some sensible observations on life, and animated descriptions fall from him, as it is said of Iago, “You shall taste him more as a soldier than as a wit,” which is a distinction he is here striving to deserve, though with little success; as in support of his pretensions he never rises higher than a pun, and frequently sinks as low as a quibble. Steevens.

Note return to page 741 6A mote will turn the balance,] The old copies have—moth; but Mr. Malone very justly observes that moth was merely the ancient mode of spelling mote. So, in King Henry V.: “Wash every moth (i. e. mote) out of his conscience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 742 7&lblank; is the better.] The first quarto makes this speech a little longer, but not better. Johnson. The passage omitted is,—“He for a man, God warned us; she for a woman, God bless us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 743 8And thus she moans,] The old copies concur in reading— means; which Mr. Theobald changed into—moans; and the next speech of Thisbe appears to countenance his alteration: “Lovers, make moan.” Steevens. Mr. Theobald alters means to moans: but means had anciently the same signification. Mr. Pinkerton (under the name of Robert Heron, Esq.) observes that it is a common term in the Scotch law, signifying to tell, to relate, to declare; and the petitions to the lords of session in Scotland, run: “To the lords of council and session humbly means and shows your petitioner.” Here, however, it evidently signifies complains. Bills in Chancery begin in a similar manner; “Humbly complaining sheweth unto your lordship,” &c. The word occurs in an ancient manuscript in my own possession: “This ender day wen me was wo,   “Under a bugh ther I lay, “Naght gale to mene me to.” So again, in a very ancient Scottish song: “I hard ane may sair mwrne and meyne.” Ritson. Thus also, in the Cronykil of A. Wyntown, b. viii. ch. xxxvi. v. 87: “Bot playnt; ná duie, ná yhit mening “Mycht helpe noucht &lblank;;” See also v. 110. Steevens.

Note return to page 744 9These lily lips,] Mr. Theobald, for the sake of rhyme, would read—lily brows. But lips could scarcely have been mistaken, either by the eye or ear, for brows. Malone. All Thisbe's lamentation, till now, runs in regular rhyme and metre. But both, by some accident, are in this single instance interrupted. I suspect the poet wrote: “These lily brows, “This cherry nose.” Now black brows being a beauty, lily brows are as ridiculous as a cherry nose, green eyes, or cowslip cheeks. Theobald. Theobald's emendation is supported by the following passage in As You Like It.: “'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair &lblank;.” And by another, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; not for because “Your brows are blacker, yet black brows they say “Become some women best.” Ritson. Lily lips are changed to lily brows for the sake of the rhyme, but this cannot be right: This be has before celebrated her Pyramus, as— “Lilly-white of hue.” It should be: “These lips lilly, “This nose cherry.” This mode of position adds not a little to the burlesque of the passage. Farmer. We meet with somewhat like this passage in George Peele's Old Wives Tale, 1595: “Her corall lippes, her crimson chinne.—Thou art a flouting knave. Her corall lippes her crimson chinne!” Steevens.

Note return to page 745 1His eyes were green as leeks.] Thus also the nurse in Romeo and Juliet, speaking of Paris, says: “&lblank; an eagle, madam, “Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 746 2&lblank; a Bergomask dance,] Sir Thomas Hanmer observes in his Glossary, that this is a dance after the manner of the peasants of Bergomasco, a country in Italy, belonging to the Venetians. All the buffoons in Italy affect to imitate the ridiculous jargon of that people; and from thence it became also a custom to imitate their manner of dancing. Steevens.

Note return to page 747 3&lblank; our company?] At the conclusion of Beaumont and Fletcher's Beggar's Bush, there seems to be a sneer at this character of Bottom; but I do not very clearly perceive its drift. The beggars have resolved to embark for England, and exercise their profession there. One of them adds: “&lblank; we have a course;— “The spirit of Bottom, is grown bottomless.” This may mean, that either the publick grew indifferent to bad actors, to plays in general, or to characters, the humour of which consisted in blunders. Steevens.

Note return to page 748 4&lblank; heavy gait &lblank;] i. e. slow passage, progress. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “You must send the ass upon the horse, for he is slow-gaited.” In another play we have—“heavy-gaited toads.” Steevens.

Note return to page 749 5Now the hungry lion roars, &c.] It has been justly observed by an anonymous writer, that “among this assemblage of familiar circumstances attending midnight, either in England or its neighbouring kingdoms, Shakspeare would never have thought of intermixing the exotick idea of the hungry lion roaring, which can be heard no nearer than in the deserts of Africa, if he had not read in the 104th Psalm: “Thou makest darkness that it may be night, wherein all the beasts of the forest do move; the lions roaring after their prey, do seek their meat from God.” Malone. Shakspeare might have found the midnight roar of the Lion associated with the howl of the Wolf, in Phaer's translation of the following lines in the seventh Æneid: “Hinc exaudiri gemitus iræque leonum “Vincla recusantum, et sera sub nocte rudentum; “&lblank; ac formæ magnorum ululare luporum. I do not, however, perceive the justness of the foregoing anonymous writer's observation. Puck, who could “encircle the earth in forty minutes,” like his fairy mistress, might have snufled “the spiced Indian air;” and consequently an image, foreign to Europeans, might have been obvious to him. He therefore was at liberty to— “Talk as familiarly of roaring lions, “As maids of fifteen do of puppy-dogs.” Our poet, however, inattentive to little proprieties, has sometimes introduced his wild beasts in regions where they are never found. Thus in Arden, a forest in French Flanders, we hear of a lioness, and a bear destroys Antigonus in Bohemia. Steevens.

Note return to page 750 6And the wolf behowls the moon;] In the old copies: “And the wolf beholds the moon.” As 'tis the design of these lines to characterize the animals, as they present themselves at the hour of midnight; and as the wolf is not justly characterized by saying he beholds the moon, which other beasts of prey, then awake, do: and as the sounds these animals make at that season, seem also intended to be represented, I make no question but the poet wrote: “And the wolf behowls the moon.” For so the wolf is exactly characterized, it being his peculiar property to howl at the moon. (Behowl, as bemoan, beseem, and an hundred others.) Warburton. So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, where the whole passage seems to be copied from this of our author: “Now barks the wolfe against the full cheek'd moon, “Now lyons half-clam'd entrals roar for food, “Now croaks the toad, and night-crows screech aloud, “Flutt'ring 'bout casements of departing souls; “Now gape the graves, and thro' their yawns let loose “Imprison'd spirits to revisit earth.” Theobald. The alteration is better than the original reading; but perhaps the author meant only to say, that the wolf gazes at the moon. Johnson. I think, “Now the wolf behowls the moon,” was the original text. The allusion is frequently met with in the works of our author and his contemporaries. “'Tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon,” says he, in his As You Like It; and Massinger, in his New Way to Pay Old Debts, makes an usurer feel only— “&lblank; as the moon is mov'd “When wolves with hunger pin'd, howl at her brightness.” Farmer. The word beholds was in the time of Shakspeare frequently written behoulds, (as, I suppose, it was then pronounced,) which probably occasioned the mistake. Thus in our author's Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “That from the could stone sparkes of flint doe flie.” These lines also in Spenser's Fairy Queene, b. i. c. v. st. 30. which Shakspeare might have remembered, add support to the emendation now made: “And all the while she [Night] stood upon the ground, “The wakeful dogs did never cease to bay;— “The messenger of death, the ghastly owle, “With drery shrieks did also her bewray; “And hungry wolves continually did howle “At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.” Malone.

Note return to page 751 7&lblank; fordone.] i. e. overcome. So Spenser, Fairy Queen, b. i. c. x. st. 33: “And many souls in dolour had foredone.” Again, in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “&lblank; fore-wearied with striving, and fore-done with the tyrannous rage of her enemy.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton, bl. l. no date: “But by the other day at none, “These two dragons were foredone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 752 8Now it is the time of night, &c.] So, in Hamlet: “'Tis now the very witching time of night, “When churchyards yawn &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 753 9I am sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door.] Cleanliness is always necessary to invite the residence and the favour of the fairies: “These make our girls their slutt'ry rue, “By pinching them both black and blue, “And put a penny in their shoe “The house for cleanly sweeping.” Drayton. Johnson. See the last scene of The Merry Wives of Windsor. Malone. To sweep the dust behind the door, is a common expression, and a common practice in large old houses; where the doors of halls and galleries are thrown backward, and seldom or ever shut. Farmer.

Note return to page 754 1Through this house give glimmering light,] Milton perhaps had this picture in his thought: “And glowing embers through the room “Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.” Il Penseroso. So, Drayton: “Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes “Of little frisking elves and apes, “To earth do make their wanton 'scapes,   “As hope of pastime hastes them.” I think it should be read: “Through this house in glimmering light.” Johnson.

Note return to page 755 2&lblank; as light as bird from brier;] This comparison is a very ancient one, being found in one of the poems of Lawrence Minot, p. 31: “That are was blith als brid on brere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 756 *Quarto F., your.

Note return to page 757 3Now, until, &c.] This speech, which both the old quartos give to Oberon, is in the edition of 1623, and in all the following, printed as the song. I have restored it to Oberon, as it apparently contains not the blessing which he intends to bestow on the bed, but his declaration that he will bless it, and his orders to the fairies how to perform the necessary rites. But where then is the song?—I am afraid it is gone after many other things of greater value. The truth is that two songs are lost. The series of the scene is this; after the speech of Puck, Oberon enters, and calls his fairies to a song, which song is apparently wanting in all the copies. Next Titania leads another song, which is indeed lost like the former, though the editors have endeavoured to find it. Then Oberon dismisses his fairies to the despatch of the ceremonies. The songs, I suppose, were lost, because they were not inserted in the players' parts, from which the drama was printed. Johnson.

Note return to page 758 4To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be;] So, in Chaucer's Marchantes Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 9693: “And whan the bed was with the preest yblessed &lblank;.” We learn also from “Articles ordained by King Henry VII. for the Regulation of his Household,” that this ceremony was observed at the marriage of a Princess. “&lblank; All men at her comming in to bee voided, except woemen, till shee bee brought to her bedd; and the man both; he sittinge in his bedd in his shirte, with a gowne cast about him. Then the Bishoppe, with the Chaplaines, to come in, and blesse the bedd: then everie man to avoide without any drinke, save the twoe estates, if they liste, priviely.” P. 129. Steevens. “Obe. To the best bride-bed will we, “Which by us shall blessed be.” Mr. Steevens remarks that the ceremony of blessing the bed was observed at the marriage of a princess. It was used at all marriages. This was the form, copied from the Manual for the use of Salisbury. “Nocte vero sequente cum sponsus et sponsa ad lectum pervenerint, accedat sacerdos et benedicat thalamum, dicens: Benedic, Domine, thalamum istum et omnes habitantes in eo; ut in tua pace consistant, et in tua voluntate permaneant: et in amore tuo vivant et senescant et multiplicentur in longitudine dierum. Per Dominum.—Item benedictio super lectum. Benedic, Domine, hoc cubiculum, respice, qui non dormis neque dormitas. Qui custodis Israel, custodi famulos tuos in hoc lecto quiescentes ab omnibus fantasmaticis demonum illusionibus: custodi eos vigilantes ut in preceptis tuis meditentur dormientes, et te per soporem sentiant: ut hic et ubique defensionis tuæ muniantur auxilio. Per Dominum.—Deinde fiat benedictio super eos in lecto tantum cum Oremus. Benedicat Deus corpora vestra et animas vestras; et det super vos benedictionem, sicut benedixit Abraham, Isaac, et Jacob, Amen.—His peractis aspergat eos aqua benedicta, et sic discedat et dimittat eos in pace.” We may observe on this strange ceremony, that the purity of modern times stands not in need of these holy aspersions to lull the senses and dissipate the illusions of the Devil. The married couple would, no doubt, rejoice when the benediction was ended. In the French romance of Melusine, the bishop who marries her to Raymondin blesses the nuptial bed. The ceremony is there represented in a very ancient cut. The good prelate is sprinkling the parties with holy water. Sometimes during the benediction the married couple only sat upon the bed; but they generally received a portion of consecrated bread and wine. It is recorded in France, that on frequent occasions the priest was improperly detained till the hour of midnight, whilst the wedding guests rioted in the luxuries of the table, and made use of language that was extremely offensive to the clergy, and injurious to the salvation of the parties. It was therefore in the year 1577 ordained by Pierre de Gondi, archbishop of Paris, that the ceremony of blessing the nuptial bed should for the future be performed in the day time, or at least before supper, and in the presence only of the bride and bridegroom, and of their nearest relations. Douce.

Note return to page 759 5&lblank; hare-lip,] This defect in children seems to have been so much dreaded, that numerous were the charms applied for its prevention. The following might be as efficacious as any of the rest. “If a woman with chylde have her smocke slyt at the neather ende or skyrt thereof, &c. the same chylde that she then goeth withall, shall be safe from having a cloven or hare lippe.” Thomas Lupton's Fourth Book of Notable Things, 4to. bl. l. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 6Nor mark prodigious,] Prodigious has here its primitive signification of portentous. So, in King Richard III.: “If ever he have child, abortive be it, “Prodigious, and untimely brought to light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 761 7&lblank; take his gait;] i. e. take his way, or direct his steps. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. viii.: “And guide his weary gate both to and fro.” Again, in a Scottish Proverb: “A man may speer the gate to Rome.” Again, in The Mercer's Play, among the Chester collection of Whitsun Mysteries, p. &lblank;: “Therefore goe not through his cuntrey, “Nor the gate you came to day.” Again, and more appositely, in one of the poems of Lawrence Minot, p. 50: “Take thi gate unto Gines, “And grete tham wele thare;—” Steevens. By gate, I believe, is meant, the door of each chamber. M. Mason. Gait, for a path or road, is commonly used at present in the northern counties. Harris.

Note return to page 762 8Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, &c.] The same superstitious kind of benediction occurs in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, v. 3479, Tyrwhitt's edition; “I crouche thee from elves, and from wightes. “Therwith the nightspel said he anon rightes “On foure halves of the hous aboute, “And on the threswold of the dore withoute. “Jesu Crist, and Seint Benedight, “Blisse this hous from every wicked wight, “Fro the nightes mare, the wite Paternoster,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 763 9Ever shall in safety rest,] Thus all the old copies, from which I have not ventured to deviate, because there are many other instances, in these plays, where the nominative case is not expressed, but understood. Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read: “E'er shall it in safety rest.” Malone.

Note return to page 764 1&lblank; an honest Puck,] See Mr. Tyrwhitt's note, &c. Act II. Sc. I. on the words—“sweet Puck.” Steevens.

Note return to page 765 2&lblank; unearned luck &lblank;] i. e. if we have better fortune than we have deserved. Steevens.

Note return to page 766 3Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,] That is, if we be dismissed without hisses. Johnson. So, in J. Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “But the nymph, after the custom of distrest tragedians, whose first act is entertained with a snaky salutation,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 767 4Give me your hands,] That is, clap your hands. Give us your applause. Johnson.

Note return to page 768 5Wild and fantastical as this play is, all the parts in their various modes are well written, and give the kind of pleasure which the author designed. Fairies in his time were much in fashion; common tradition had made them familiar, and Spenser's poem had made them great. Johnson. Johnson's concluding observation on this play, is not conceived with his usual judgment. There is no analogy or resemblance whatever between the Fairies of Spenser, and those of Shakspeare. The Fairies of Spenser, as appears from his description of them in the second book of the Fairy Queen, canto x. were a race of mortals created by Prometheus, of the human size, shape, and affections, and subject to death. But those of Shakspeare, and of common tradition, as Johnson calls them, were a diminutive race of sportful beings, endowed with immortality and supernatural power, totally different from those of Spenser. M. Mason.

Note return to page 769 10205001“Therefore the winds piping to us in vain.” This fine description refers to the bad weather with which England was visited about this time. Strype (Ann. v. 4. p. 211) has printed an extract from one of Dr. J. King's Lectures, preached at York, in which that divine reminds his hearers of the various signs of God's wrath, with which England was visited in 1593 and 1594 (if I understand the extract aright,)—as, storms, pestilence, dearth, and unseasonable weather. Of the last, he says, “Remember that the spring (that year when the plague broke out) was very unkind, by means of the abundance of rains that fell. Our July hath been like to a February; our June even as an April: so that the air must needs be infected. . . . . . .” Then, having spoken of the three successive years of scarcity, he adds, “And see, whether the Lord doth not threaten us much more, by sending such unseasonable weather, and storms of rain among us: which if we will observe, and compare it with that which is past, we may say that the course of nature is very much inverted. Our years are turned upside down. Our summers are no summers: our harvests are no harvests: our seed times are no seed times. For a great space of time scant any day hath been seen that it hath not rained upon us.” Blakeway.

Note return to page 770 10205002“And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,” &c. &c. &c. Dr. Warburton, whose ingenuity and acuteness have been long admired, is now, I believe, pretty generally thought to have sometimes seen not only what no other person would ever have been able to discover, but what, in reality, unless in his own playful imagination, did not exist. Criticism is a talisman, which has, on more than one occasion, dispelled the illusion of this mighty magician. I shall not dispute, that, by the fair vestal, Shakspeare intended a compliment to Queen Elizabeth, who, I am willing to believe, at the age of sixty-eight, was no less chaste than beautiful; but whether any other part of Oberon's speech have an allegorical meaning or not, I presume, in direct opposition to Dr. Warburton, to contend that it agrees with any other rather than with Mary Queen of Scots. The “mixture of satire and panegyrick” I shall examine anon: I only wish to know, for the present, why it should have been “inconvenient for the author to speak openly” in “dispraise” of the Scotish Queen. If he meant to please “the imperial votress,” no incense could have been half so grateful as the blackest calumny. But, it seems, “her successor would not forgive her satirist.” Who then was her “successor” when this play was written? Mary's son, James? I am persuaded that, had Dr. Warburton been better read in the history of those times, he would not have found this monarch's succession quite so certain, at that period, as to have prevented Shakspeare, who was by no means the refined speculatist he would induce one to suppose, from gratifying the “fair vestal” with sentiments so agreeable to her. However, if “the poet has so well marked out every distinguishing circumstance of her life and character, in this beautiful allegory, as will leave no room to doubt about his secret meaning,” there is an end of all controversy. For, though the satire would be cowardly, false, and infamous, yet, since it was couched under an allegory, which, while perspicuous as glass to Elizabeth, would have become opake as a mill-stone to her successor, Shakspeare, lying as snug as his own Ariel in a cowslip's bell, would have had no reason to apprehend any ill consequences from it. Now, though our speculative bard might not be able to foresee the sagacity of the Scotish king in smelling out a plot, as I believe it was some years after that he gave any proof of his excellence that way, he could not but have heard of his being an admirable witch-finder; and, surely, the skill requisite to detect a witch must be sufficient to develope an allegory; so that I must needs question the propriety of the compliment here paid to the poet's prudence. Queen Mary “is called a Mermaid, 1. to denote her reign over a kingdom situate in the sea.” In that respect at least Elizabeth was as much a mermaid as herself. “And 2. her beauty and intemperate lust; for as Elizabeth for her chastity is called a Vestal, this unfortunate lady, on a contrary account, is called a mermaid.” All this is as false as it is foolish: The mermaid was never the emblem of lust; nor was the “gentle Shakspeare” of a character or disposition to have insulted the memory of a murdered princess by so infamous a charge. The most abandoned libeller, even Buchanan himself, never accused her of “intemperate lust;” and it is pretty well understood at present that, if either of these ladies were remarkable for her purity, it was not Queen Elizabeth. “3. An ancient story may be supposed to be here alluded to: the Emperor Julian tells us that the Sirens (which with all the modern poets are mermaids) contended for precedency with the Muses, who overcoming them took away their wings.” Can any thing be more ridiculous? Mermaids are half women and half fishes: where then are their wings? or what possible use could they make of them if they had any? The Sirens which Julian speaks of were partly women and partly birds: so that “the pollusion,” as good-man Dull hath it, by no means “holds in the exchange.” “The quarrels between Mary and Elizabeth had the same cause and the same issue.” That is, they contended for precedency, and Elizabeth overcoming took away the other's wings. The secret of their contest for precedency should seem to have been confined to Dr. Warburton: It would be in vain to enquire after it in the history of the time. The Queen of Scots, indeed, flew for refuge to her treacherous rival, (who is here again the mermaid of the allegory, alluring to destruction, by her songs or fair speeches,) and wearing, it should seem, like a cherubim, her wings on her neck, Elizabeth, who was determined she should fiy no more, in her eagerness to tear them away, happened inadvertently to take off her head. The situation of the poet's mermaid, on a dolphin's back, “evidently marks out that distinguishing circumstance in Mary's fortune, her marriage with the dauphin of France.” A mermaid would seem to have but a strangely aukward seat on the back of a dolphin; but that, to be sure, is the poet's affair, and not the commentator's: the latter, however, is certainly answerable for placing a Queen on the back of her husband: a very extraordinary situation one would think, for a married lady; and of which I only recollect a single instance, in the common print of “a poor man loaded with mischief.” Mermaids are supposed to sing, but their dulcet and harmonious breath must in this instance, to suit the allegory, allude to “those great abilities of genius and learning,” which rendered Queen Mary “the most accomplished princess of her age.” This compliment could not fail of being highly agreeable to the “fair Vestal.” “By the rude sea is meant Scotland incircled with the ocean, which rose up in arms against the regent, while she [Mary] was in France. But her return home quieted these disorders: and had not her strange ill conduct afterwards more violently inflamed them, she might have passed her whole life in peace.” Dr. Warburton, whose skill in geography seems to match his knowledge of history and acuteness in allegory, must be allowed the sole merit of discovering Scotland to be an island. But, as to the disorders of that country being quieted by the Queen's return, it appears from history to be full as peaceable before as it is at any time after that event. Whether, in the revival or continuance of these disorders, she, or her ideot husband, or fanatical subjects, were most to blame, is a point upon which doctors still differ; but, it is evident, that, if the enchanting song of the commentator's mermaid civilized the rude sea for a time, it was only to render it, in an instant, more boisterous than ever: those great abilities of genius and learning, which rendered her the most accomplished princess of her age, not availing her among a parcel of ferocious and enthusiastic barbarians, whom even the lyre of Orpheus had in vain warbled to humanize. Biantome, who accompanied her, says she was welcomed home by a mob of five or six hundred ragamuffins, who, in discord with the most execrable instruments, sung psalms (which she was supposed to dislike) under her chamber window: “He!” adds he, “quelle musique et quelle repos pour sa nuit!” However, it seems, “there is great justness and beauty in this image, as the vulgar opinion is, that the mermaid always sings in storms.” “The vulgar opinion,” I am persuaded, is peculiar to the ingenious commentator; as, if the mermaid is ever supposed to sing, it is in calms, which presage storms. I can perceive no propriety in calling the insurrection of the Northern earls the quarrel of Queen Mary, unless in so far as it was that of the religion she professed. But this perhaps is the least objectionable part of a chimerical allegory of which the poet himself had no idea, and which the commentator, to whose creative fancy it owes its existence, seems to have very justly characterized, in telling us it is “out of nature;” that is, as I conceive, perfectly groundless and unnatural. Ritson.

Note return to page 771 10205003 “Obe. With this field-dew consecrate “Every fairy take his gait; “And each several chamber bless, “Through this palace with sweet peace.” Thus in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act V. Sc. V.: “Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out: “Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room.” In the first line of Oberon's speech there seems to be a covert satire against holy water. Whilst the popular confidence in the power of fairies existed, they had obtained the credit of occasionally performing much good service to mankind; and the great influence which they possessed gave so much offence to the holy monks and friars, that they determined to exert all their power to expel the above imaginary beings from the minds of the people, by taking the office of the fairies' benedictions entirely into their own hands. Of this we have a curious proof in the beginning of Chaucer's admirable tale of the Wife of Bath; “I speke of many hundred yeres ago; “But now can no man see non elves mo, “For now the grete charitee and prayeres “Of limitoures and other holy freres “That serchen every land and every streme. “As thikke as motes in the sonne beme, “Blissing halles, chambres, kichenes, and boures, “Citees and burghes, castles highe and toures, “Thropes and bernes, shepenes and dairies, “This maketh that ther ben no faeries: “For ther as wont to walken was an elf, “Ther walketh now the limitour himself.” The other quotation from Chaucer, which Mr. Steevens has given, is not to the present purpose. The fairies' blessing was to bring peace upon the house of Theseus; the night-spell in the Miller's Tale, is pronounced against the influence of elves, and those demons, or evil spirits, that were supposed to occasion the night-mare, and other nocturnal illusions. As this is a subject that has never been professedly handled, it may be worth while to bring together a few facts that relate to it; to do it ample justice would require an express dissertation. A belief in the influence of evil spirits has been common to all nations, and in the remotest periods of the human history. The gross superstitions of the middle ages, which even exceeded those in Pagan times, had given birth to a variety of imaginary beings, who were supposed to be perpetually occupied in doing mischief to mankind. The chief of these were the Incubus, or night-mare, and certain fairies of a malignant nature. It therefore became necessary to check and counteract their operations by spells, charms, and invocations to saints. Some of these have been preserved. The lines given to Mad Tom in Lear, beginning “Saint Withold footed thrice the wold,” is one of them; and in the notes belonging to it, as well as in those by Mr. Tyrwhitt on the Canterbury Tales, vol. iv. 242, others have been collected. To these may be added the following in Cartwright's play of The Ordinary, Act III. Sc. I.: “Saint Francis, and Saint Benedight, “Blesse this house from wicked wight, “From the night-mare and the goblin, “That is hight good fellow Robin. “Keep it from all evil spirits, “Fayries, weezels, rats and ferrets,   “From curfew time   “To the next prime.” This indeed may be rather considered as satirical, but it is a parody on those which were genuine. Sinclair, in his Satan's Invisible World Discovered, informs us that “At night, in the time of popery, when folks went to bed, they believed the repetition of this following prayer was effectual to preserve them from danger, and the house too:” “Who sains the house the night, “They that sains it ilka night. “Saint Bryde and her brate, “Saint Colme and his hat, “Saint Michael and his spear, “Keep this house from the weir; “From running thief, “And burning thief; “And from an ill Rea, “That be the gate can gae; “And from an ill weight, “That be the gate can light “Nine reeds about the house, “Keep it all the night; “What is that, what I see “So red, so bright, beyond the sea? “'Tis he was pierced through the hands, “Through the feet, through the throat, “Through the tongue; “Through the liver and the lung. “Well is them that well may “Fast on Good-friday.” As darkness was supposed to be more immediately adapted to the machinations of these malicious spirits, it was natural that, on retiring to rest, certain prayers should be chosen to deprecate their influence, which was often regarded as of a particular kind. To this Imogen alludes when she exclaims: “To your protection I commend me, Gods! “From fairies, and the tempters of the night, “Guard me, beseech ye!” Cymbeline, Act II. Sc. II. So, Banquo in Macbeth: “Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature “Gives way to in repose.” An ancient hymn by Saint Ambrose goes to the same point; “Procul recedant somnia “Et noctium phantasmata: “Hostemque nostrum comprime “Ne polluantur corpora.” The demon who was supposed to have particular influence in these nocturnal illusions, was Asmodeus, the lame devil of whom Mons. Le Sage has made such admirable use. In expelling him, the sign of the cross was most efficacious; a very old practice on similar occasions, as we learn from the following lines in Prudentius: “Fac, cum vocante somno “Castum petis cubile “Frontem, locumque cordis “Crucis figura signes. “Crux pellit omne crimen, “Fugunt crucem tenebræ: “Tali dicata signo “Mens fluctuare nescit. “Procul, ô procul vagantum “Portenta somniorum, “Procul esto pervicaci “Præstigiator astu.” Relics of saints, images of the holy Virgin, sanctified girdles, and a variety of other amulets, were resorted to on the same occasion, exhibiting a lamentable proof of the imbecility of human nature. Douce.

Note return to page 772 CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION To the Original Play of The Taming of a Shrew, entered on the Stationers' books in 1594, and printed in quarto in 1607. A Lord, &c. Sly. A Tapster. Page, Players, Huntsmen, &c. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Alphonsus, a Merchant of Athens. Jerobel, Duke of Cestus. Aurelius, his Son, Suitor to the Daughter of Alphonsus. Ferando, Suitor to the Daughter of Alphonsus. Polidor, Suitor to the Daughter of Alphonsus. Valeria, Servant to Aurelius. Sander, Servant to Ferando. Phylotus, a Merchant who personates the Duke. Kate, Daughter to Alphonsus. Emelia, Daughter to Alphonsus. Phylema, Daughter to Alphonsus. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants to Ferando and Alphonsus. SCENE, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's Country House.

Note return to page 773 1I'll pheese you,] To pheese or fease, is to separate a twist into single threads. In the figurative sense it may well enough be taken, like teaze or toze, for to harass, to plague. Perhaps I'll pheeze you, may be equivalent to I'll comb your head, a phrase vulgarly used by persons of Sly's character on like occasions. The following explanation of the word is given by Sir Thomas Smith, in his book de Sermone Anglico, printed by Robert Stephens, 4to: “To feize, means in fila diducere.” Johnson. Shakspeare repeats his use of the word in Troilus and Cressida, where Ajax says he will pheese the pride of Achilles: and Love-wit in The Alchemist employs it in the same sense. Again, in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589: “Your pride serves you to feaze them all alone.” Again, in Stanyhurst's version of the first book of Virgil's Æneid: “We are touz'd, and from Italye feaz'd.” &lblank; Italis longe disjungimur oris. Again, ibid.: “Feaze away the droane bees,” &c. Steevens. To pheeze a man, is to beat him; to give him a pheeze, is, to give him a knock. In The Chances, Antonio says of Don John, “I felt him in my small guts; I am sure he has feaz'd me.” M. Mason. Pheeze or veeze, in the sense of to beat, occurs three times in The London Prodigal. To touze or toaze had the same signification. See Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Arruffare. To touze, to tug, to bang, or rib-baste one.” Malone. Fuller uses the word veeze in his life of Turbervil, Bishop of Exeter: “Bishop Turbervil recovered some lost lands which Bishop Voysey had vezed.” This word he explains in the margin: “Driven away, in the dialect of the West.” Fuller's Worthies. Dorsetshire, p. 280. Boswell.

Note return to page 774 2&lblank; no rogues;] That is, vagrants, no mean fellows, but gentlemen. Johnson. One William Sly was a performer in the plays of Shakspeare, as appears from the list of comedians prefixed to the folio, 1623. This Sly is likewise mentioned in Heywood's Actor's Vindication, and the Induction to Marston's Malcontent. He was also among those to whom James I. granted a licence to act at the Globe theatre in 1693. Steevens.

Note return to page 775 3&lblank; paucas pallabris;] Sly, as an ignorant fellow, is purposely made to aim at languages out of his knowledge, and knock the words out of joint. The Spaniards say, pocas pallabras, i. e. few words: as they do likewise, Cessa, i. e. be quiet. Theobald. This is a burlesque on Hieronymo, which Theobald speaks of in a following note: “What new device have they devised now? Pocas pallabras.” In the comedy of The Roaring Girl, 1611, a cut-purse makes use of the same words. Again, they appear in The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638, and in some others, but are always appropriated to the lowest characters. Steevens.

Note return to page 776 4&lblank; let the world slide:] This expression is proverbial. It is used in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money: “&lblank; will you go drink “And let the world slide, uncle?” It occurs, however, or somewhat very much resembling it, in the ancient Morality called The iiii Elements: “&lblank; let us be mery, “With huff a galand, synge tyrll on the bery, “And let the wyde worlde wynde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 777 5&lblank; you have burst?] To burst and to break were anciently synonymous. Falstaff says, that “John of Gaunt burst Shallow's head for crouding in among the marshal's men.” Again, in Soliman and Perseda: “God save you, sir, you have burst your shin.” Again, in Dr. Philemon Holland's translation of Plutarch's Apophthegms, edit. 1603, p. 405, to brast and to burst have the same meaning. So, in All for Money, a tragedy by T. Lupton, 1574: “If you forsake our father, for sorrow he will brast.” In the same piece, burst is used when it suited the rhyme. Again, in the Old Morality of Every Man: “Though thou weep till thy heart to-brast.” Steevens. Burst is still used for broke in the North of England. See Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, edit. 1780, vol. xii. p. 375. Reed.

Note return to page 778 6&lblank; Go by S. Jeronimy;— Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.] All the editions have coined a Saint here, for Sly to swear by. But the poet had no such intentions. The passage has particular humour in it, and must have been very pleasing at that time of day. But I must clear up a piece of stage history to make it understood. There is a fustian old play called Hieronymo; or The Spanish Tragedy: which I find was the common butt of raillery to all the poets in Shakspeare's time: and a passage, that appeared very ridiculous in that play, is here humorously alluded to. Hieronymo, thinking himself injured, applies to the king for justice; but the courtiers, who did not desire his wrongs should be set in a true light, attempt to hinder him from an audience: “Hiero. Justice! O! justice to Hieronymo. “Lor. Back;—seest thou not the king is busy? “Hiero. O, is he so? “King. Who is he, that interrupts our business? “Hiero. Not I:—Hieronymo, beware; go by, go by.” So Sly here, not caring to be dunn'd by the Hostess, cries to her in effect: “Don't be troublesome, don't interrupt me, go by;” and to fix the satire in his allusion, pleasantly calls her Jeronimo. Theobald. The first part of this tragedy is called Jeronimo. The Tinker therefore does not say Jeronimo as a mistake for Hieronymo. Steevens. I believe the true reading is—Go by, says Jeronimo, and that the s was the beginning of the word says, which, by mistake, the printers did not complete. The quotation from the old play proves that it is Jeronimo himself that says, Go by. M. Mason. I have not scrupled to place Mr. M. Mason's judicious correction in the text. Steevens. Surely Sly, who in a preceding speech is made to say Richard for William, paucas pallabris for pocas palabras, &c. may be allowed here to misquote a passage from the same play in which that scrap of Spanish is found, viz. The Spanish Tragedy. He afterwards introduces a saint in form.—The similitude, however slight, between Jeronimy and S. Jerome, who in Sly's dialect would be Jeremy, may be supposed the occasion of the blunder. He does not, I conceive, mean to address the Hostess by the name of Jeronimy, as Mr. Theobald supposed, but merely to quote a line from a popular play. Nym, Pistol, and many other of Shakspeare's low characters, quote scraps of plays with equal infidelity. There are two passages in The Spanish Tragedy here alluded to. One quoted by Mr. Theobald, and this other: “What outcry calls me from my naked bed?” Sly's making Jeronimy a saint is surely not more extravagant than his exhorting his Hostess to go to her cold bed to warm herself; or declaring that he will go to his cold bed for the same purpose; for perhaps, like Hieronymo, he here addresses himself. In King Lear, Edgar, when he assumes the madman, utters the same words that are here put in the mouth of the tinker: “Humph: go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 779 7&lblank; must go fetch the thirdborough.] The old copy reads: —I must go fetch the headborough. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, &c. Steevens. This corrupt reading had passed down through all the copies, and none of the editors pretended to guess at the poet's conceit. What an insipid unmeaning reply does Sly make to his Hostess? How do third, or fourth, or fifth borough relate to Headborough? The author intended but a poor witticism, and even that is lost. The Hostess would say, that she'd fetch a constable: and this officer she calls by his other name, a Third-borough: and upon this term Sly founds the conundrum in his answer to her. Who does not perceive at a single glance, some conceit started by this certain correction? There is an attempt at wit, tolerable enough for a tinker, and one drunk too. Third-borough is a Saxon term sufficiently explained by the glossaries: and in our statute-books, no further back than the 28th year of Henry VIII. we find it used to signify a constable. Theobald. In the Personæ Dramatis to Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub, the high-constable, the petty-constable, the head-borough, and the third-borough, are enumerated as distinct characters. It is difficult to say precisely what the office of a third-borough was. Steevens. The office of thirdborough is known to all acquainted with the civil constitution of this country, to be co-extensive with that of the constable. Sir J. Hawkins. The office of thirdborough is the same with that of Constable, except in places where there are both, in which case the former is little more than the constable's assistant. The headborough, petty constable, and thirdborough, introduced by Ben Jonson in The Tale of a Tub, being all of different places, are but one and the same officer under so many different names. In a book intitled, The Constable's Guide, &c. 1771, it is said that “there are in several counties of this realm other officers; that is, by other titles, but not much inferior to our constables; as in Warwickshire a thirdborough.” The etymology of the word is uncertain. Ritson.

Note return to page 780 8&lblank; falls asleep.] The spurious play, already mentioned, begins thus: “Enter a Tapster, beating out of his doores Slie drunken. “Taps. You whoreson drunken slave, you had best be gone, “And empty your drunken panch somewhere else, “For in this house thou shalt not rest to night. [Exit Tapster. “Slie. Tilly vally; by crisee Tapster Ile fese you anone: “Fills the t'other pot, and all's paid for: looke you, “I doe drink it of mine own instigation. Omne bene. “Heere Ile lie awhile: why Tapster, I say, “Fill's a fresh cushen heere: “Heigh ho, here's good warme lying. [He falls asleepe. “Enter a noble man and his men from hunting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 781 9Brach Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd,] Here, says Pope, brach signifies a degenerate hound: but Edwards explains it a hound in general. That the latter of these criticks is right, will appear from the use of the word brach, in Sir T. More's Comfort against Tribulation, book iii. ch. xxiv:—“Here it must be known of some men that can skill of hunting, whether that we mistake not our terms, for then are we utterly ashamed as ye wott well.—And I am so cunning, that I cannot tell, whether among them a bitche be a bitche or no; but as I remember she is no bitch but a brache.” The meaning of the latter part of the paragraph seems to be, “I am so little skilled in hunting, that I can hardly tell whether a bitch be a bitch or not; my judgment goes no further, than just to direct me to call either dog or bitch by their general name—Hound.” I am aware that Spelman acquaints his reader, that brache was used in his days for a lurcher, and that Shakspeare himself has made it a dog of a particular species: “Mastiff, greyhound, mungrill grim, “Hound or spaniel, brach or lym.” King Lear, Act III. Sc. V. But it is manifest from the passage of More just cited, that it was sometimes applied in a general sense, and may therefore be so understood in the passage before us; and it may be added, that brache appears to be used in the same sense by Beaumont and Fletcher: “A. Is that your brother? “E. Yes, have you lost your memory? “A. As I live he is a pretty fellow. “Y. O this is a sweet brach.” Scornful Lady, Act. I. Sc. I. T. Warton. I believe brach Merriman means only Merriman the brach. So in the old song: “Cow Crumbock is a very good cow.” Brach, however, appears to have been a particular sort of hound. In an old metrical charter, granted by Edward the Confessor to the hundred of Cholmer and Dancing, in Essex, there are the two following lines: “Four grey hounds & six Bratches, “For hare, fox, and wild cattes.” Merriman surely could not be designed for the name of a female of the canine species. Steevens. It seems from the commentary of Ulitius upon Gratius, from Caius de Canibus Britannicis, from bracco, in Spelman's Glossary, and from Markham's Country Contentments, that brache originally meant a bitch. Ulitius, p. 163, observes, that bitches have a superior sagacity of nose:—“fœminis [canibus] sagacitatis plurimum inesse, usus docuit;” and hence, perhaps, any hound with eminent quickness of scent, whether dog or bitch, was called brache, for the term brache is sometimes applied to males. Our ancestors hunted much with the large southern hounds, and in every pack a couple of dogs peculiarly good and cunning to find game, or recover the scent, as Markham informs us. To this custom Shakspeare seems here to allude, by naming two braches, which, in my opinion, are beagles; and this discriminates brach, from the lym, a blood-hound mentioned together with it, in the tragedy of King Lear. In the following quotation offered by Mr. Steevens on another occasion, the brache hunts truly by the scent, behind the doe, while the hounds are on every side: “For as the dogs pursue the silly doe, “The brache behind, the hounds on every side; “So trac'd they me among the mountains wide.” Phaer's Legend of Owen Glendower. Tollet. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—Leech Merriman; that is, apply some remedies to Merriman, the poor cur has his joints swelled. —Perhaps we might read—bathe Merriman, which is, I believe, the common practice of huntsmen; but the present reading may stand. Johnson. Emboss'd is a hunting term. When a deer is hard run, and foams at the mouth, he is said to be emboss'd. A dog also when he is strained with hard running (especially upon hard ground,) will have his knees swelled, and then he is said to be emboss'd: from the French word bosse, which signifies a tumour. This explanation of the word will receive illustration from the following passage in the old comedy, intitled, The Shoemakers Holiday, or the Gentle Craft, acted at court, and printed in the year 1600, signat. C: “&lblank; Beate every brake, the game's not farre, “This way with winged feet he fled from death: “Besides, the miller's boy told me even now, “He saw him take soyle, and he hallowed him, “Affirming him so emboss'd.” T. Warton. Mr. T. Warton's first explanation may be just. Lyly, in his Midas, 1592, has not only given us the term, but the explanation of it: “Pet. There was a boy leashed on the single, because when he was imbossed he took soyle. “Li. What's that? “Pet. Why a boy was beaten on the tayle with a leathern thong, because, when he fom'de at the mouth with running, he went into the water.” Again, in Chapman's version of the fourth Iliad:, “&lblank; like hinds that have no hearts, “Who, wearied with a long-run field, are instantly embost, “Stand still,” &c. Steevens. From the Spanish, des embocar, to cast out of the mouth. We have again the same expression in Antony and Cleopatra: &lblank; the boar of Thessaly “Was never so emboss'd.” Malone. Can any thing be more evident than that imboss'd means swelled in the knees, and that we ought to read bathe? What has the imbossing of a deer to do with that of a hound? “Imbossed sores” occur in As You Like It; and in The First Part of King Henry IV. the Prince calls Falstaff “imboss'd rascal.” Ritson.

Note return to page 782 1&lblank; how Silver made it good &lblank;] This, I suppose, is a technical term. It occurs likewise in the 23d song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “What's offer'd by the first, the other good doth make.” Steevens.

Note return to page 783 2And, when he says he is—, say, that he dreams, For he is nothing but a mighty lord.] I rather think, (with Sir Thomas Hanmer,) that Shakspeare wrote: And when he says he's poor, say that he dreams. The dignity of a lord is then significantly opposed to the poverty which it would be natural for Sly to acknowledge. Steevens. If any thing should be inserted, it may be done thus: And when he says he's Sly, say that he dreams. The likeness in writing of Sly and say produced the omission. Johnson. This is hardly right; for how should the Lord know the beggar's name to be Sly? Steevens. Perhaps the sentence is left imperfect, because he did not know by what name to call him. Blackstone. I have no doubt that the blank was intended by the author. It is observable that the metre of the line is perfect, without any supplemental word. In The Tempest a similar blank is found, which Shakspeare there also certainly intended: “I should know that voice; it should be—; but he is drowned, and these are devils.” Malone.

Note return to page 784 3This do, and do it kindly,] Kindly, means naturally. M. Mason.

Note return to page 785 4&lblank; modesty.] By modesty is meant moderation, without suffering our merriment to break into an excess. Johnson.

Note return to page 786 5Enter Players.] The old play already quoted reads: “Enter two of the plaiers with packs at their backs, and a boy. “Now, sirs, what store of plaies have you? “San. Marry my lord you may have a tragicall, “Or a commoditie, or what you will. “The other. A comedie thou shouldst say, souns thou'lt shame us all. “Lord. And what's the name of your comedie? “San. Marrie my lord, 'tis calde The Taming of a Shrew: “'Tis a good lesson for us my L. for us that are married men,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 787 6&lblank; to accept our duty.] It was in those times the custom of players to travel in companies, and offer their service at great houses. Johnson. In the fifth Earl of Northumberland's Household Book, (with a copy of which I was honoured by the late duchess,) the following article occurs. The book was begun in the year 1512: “Rewards to Playars. “Item, to be payd to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy for rewards to players for playes playd in Chrystinmas by stranegers in my house after xxd. every play by estimacion somme xxxiijs. iiijd. Which ys appoynted to be paid to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy at the said Christynmas in full contentacion of the said rewardys xxxiijs. iiijd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 788 7I think, 'twas Soto &lblank;] I take our author here to be paying a compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Woman Pleased, in which comedy there is the character of Soto, who is a farmer's son, and a very facetious serving-man. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope prefix the name of Sim to the line here spoken; but the first folio has it Sincklo: which, no doubt, was the name of one of the players here introduced, and who had played the part of Soto with applause. Theobald. If Soto were the character alluded to, the compliment would be to the person who played the part, not to the author. M. Mason. It is true that Soto, in the play of Woman Pleased, is a farmer's eldest son, but he does not wooe any gentlewoman; so that it may be doubted, whether that be the character alluded to. There can be little doubt that Sincklo was the name of one of the players, which has crept in, both here and in The Third Part of Henry VI. instead of the name of the person represented. Again, at the conclusion of The Second Part of K. Henry IV.: “Enter Sincklo and three or four officers.” See the quarto, 1600. Tyrwhitt. As the old copy prefixes the name of Sincklo to this line, why should we displace it? Sincklo is a name elsewhere used by Shakspeare. In one of the parts of King Henry VI. Humphreys and Sincklo enter with their bows, as foresters. With this observation I was favoured by a learned lady, and have replaced the old reading. Steevens. Sincklo or Sinkler, was certainly an actor in the same company with Shakspeare, &c.—He is introduced tegether with Burbage, Condell, Lowin, &c. in the Induction to Marston's Malcontent, 1604, and was also performer in the entertainment entitled The Seven Deadlie Sinns. Malone.

Note return to page 789 8&lblank; in the world.] Here follows another insertion made by Mr. Pope from the old play. These words are not in the folio, 1623. I have therefore degraded them, as we have no proof that the first sketch of the piece was written by Shakspeare: “San. [to the other.] Go, get a dishclout to make cleane your shooes, and Ile speak for the properties* [Subnote: *Property] in the language of a playhouse, is every implement necessary to the exhibition. Johnson.] . [Exit Player. “My lord, we must have a shoulder of mutton for a propertie, and a little vinegre to make our diuell rore† [Subnote: †&lblank; a little vinegre to make our diuell rore.] When the acting the mysteries of the Old and New Testament was in vogue, at the representation of the mystery of the Passion, Judas and the Devil made a part. And the Devil, wherever he came, was always to suffer some disgrace, to make the people laugh: as here, the buffoonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar. And the Passion being that, of all the mysteries, which was most frequently represented, vinegar became at length the standing implement to torment the Devil; and was used for this purpose even after the mysteries ceased, and the moralities came in vogue; where the Devil continued to have a considerable part. The mention of it here, was to ridicule so absurd a circumstance in these old farces. Warburton. All that Dr. Warburton has said relative to Judas and the vinegar, wants confirmation. I have met with no such circumstances in any mysteries, whether in MS. or in print; and yet both the Chester and Coventry collections are preserved in the British Museum. See MS. Harl. 2013, and Cotton MS. Vespasian D. viii. Perhaps, however, some entertainments of a farcical kind might have been introduced between the Acts. Between the divisions of one of the Chester Mysteries, I meet with this marginal direction: Here the Boy and Pig; and perhaps the Devil in the intervals of this first comedy of The Taming of the Shrew, might be tormented for the entertainment of the audience; or, according to a custom observed in some of our ancient puppet-shews, might beat his wife with a shoulder of mutton. In the Preface to Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590, the Printer says: “I have (purposelie) omitted and left out some fond and frivolous gestures, digressing (and in my poore opinion) farre unmeete for the matter, which I thought might seeme more tedious unto the wise, than any way els to be regarded, though (happly) they have bene of some vaine conceited fondlings greatly gaped at, what time they were showed upon the stage in their graced deformities; nevertheless now to be mixtured in print with such matter of worth, it would prove a great disgrace,” &c. The bladder of vinegar was, however, used for other purposes. I meet with the following stage direction in the old play of Cambyses, (by T. Preston,) when one of the characters is supposed to die from the wounds he had just received: Here let a small bladder of vinegar be pricked. I suppose to counterfeit blood: red-wine vinegar was chiefly used, as appears from the ancient books of cookery. In the ancient Tragedy, or rather Morality, called All for Money, by T. Lupton, 1578, Sin says: “I knew I would make him soon change his note, “I will make him sing the Black Sanctus, I hold him a groat.”   “Here Satan shall cry and roar.” Again, a little after:   “Here he roareth and crieth.” Of the kind of wit current through these productions, a better specimen can hardly be found than the following: “Satan. Whatever thou wilt have, I will not thee denie. “Sinne. Then give me a piece of thy tayle to make a flappe for a flie. “For if I had a piece thereof, do verily believe “The humble bees stinging should never me grieve. “Satan. No, my friend, no, my tayle I cannot spare, “But aske what thou wilt besides, and I will it prepare. “Sinne. Then your nose I would have to stop my tayle behind, “For I am combred with collike and letting out of winde: “And if it be too little to make thereof a case, “Then I would be so bold to borrowe your face.” Such were the entertainments, of which our maiden Queen sat a spectatress in the earlier part of her reign. Steevens.] .” The shoulder of mutton might indeed be necessary afterwards for the dinner of Petruchio, but there is no devil in this piece, or in the original on which Shakspeare formed it; neither was it yet determined what comedy should be represented. Steevens.

Note return to page 790 9&lblank; take them to the buttery,] Mr. Pope had probably these words in his thoughts, when he wrote the following passage of his preface: “&lblank; the top of the profession were then mere players, not gentlemen of the stage; they were led into the buttery by the steward, not placed at the lord's table, or the lady's toilette.” But he seems not to have observed, that the players here introduced are strollers; and there is no reason to suppose that our author, Heminge, Burbage, Condell, &c. who were licensed by King James, were treated in this manner. Malone. At the period when this comedy was written, and for many years after, the profession of a player was scarcely allowed to be reputable. The imagined dignity of those who did not belong to itinerant companies, is, therefore, unworthy consideration. I can as easily believe that the blundering editors of the first folio were suffered to lean their hands on Queen Elizabeth's chair of state, as that they were admitted to the table of the Earl of Leicester, or the toilette of Lady Hunsdon. Like Stephen in Every Man in His Humour, the greatest indulgence our histrionic leaders could have expected, would have been “a trencher and a napkin in the buttery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 791 1With soft low tongue.] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; Her voice was ever soft, “Gentle and low; an excellent thing in woman.” Malone.

Note return to page 792 2Who, for twice seven years, &c.] In former editions: “Who for this seven years hath esteemed him “No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.” I have ventured to alter a word here, against the authority of the printed copies; and hope, I shall be justified in it by two subsequent passages. That the poet designed the tinker's supposed lunacy should be of fourteen years standing at least, is evident upon two parallel passages in the play to that purpose. Theobald. The remark is just, but perhaps the alteration may be thought unnecessary by those who recollect that our author rarely reckons time with any great correctness. Both Falstaff and Orlando forget the true hour of their appointments. Steevens. In both these passages the term mentioned is fifteen not fourteen years. The servants may well be supposed to forget the precise period dictated to them by their master, or, as is the custom of such persons, to aggravate what they have heard. There is, therefore, in my opinion, no need of change. Malone. “&lblank; hath esteemed him &lblank;” This is an error of the press:— We should read himself, instead of him. M. Mason. Him is used instead of himself, as you is used for yourselves in Macbeth: “Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time—.” i. e. acquaint yourselves. Again, in Ovid's Banquet of Sence, by Chapman, 1595: “Sweet touch, the engine that love's bow doth bend, “The sence wherewith he feeles him deified.” Steevens.

Note return to page 793 3An onion &lblank;] It is not unlikely that the onion was an expedient used by the actors of interludes. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 794 4A Bedchamber, &c.] From the original stage direction in the first folio it appears that Sly and the other persons mentioned in the Induction, were intended to be exhibited here, and during the representation of the comedy, in a balcony above the stage. The direction here is—Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, &c. So afterwards, at the end of this scene—The Presenters above speak. See the Account of our old Theatres in the History of the Stage. Malone.

Note return to page 795 5Sly is discovered, &c.] Thus, in the original play: “Enter two with a table and a banquet on it, and two other, with Slie asleepe in a chaire, richlie apparelled, and the musick plaieng. “One. So, sirha, now go call my lord; “And tell him all things are ready as he will'd it. “Another. Set thou some wine upon the boord, “And then Ile go fetch my lord presently. [Exit. “Enter the Lord and his men. “Lord. How now, what is all things readie? “One. Yea, my lord. “Lord. Then sound the musicke, and Ile wake him strait, “And see you doe as earst I gave in charge. “My lord, my lord, (he sleeps soundly,) my lord. “Slie. Tapster, give's a little small ale: heigh ho. “Lord. Heere's wine, my lord, the purest of the grape. “Slie. For which lord? “Lord. For your honour, my lord. “Slie. Who I, am I a lord?—Iesus, what fine apparell have I got! “Lord. More richer far your honour hath to weare, “And if it please you, I will fetch them straight. “Wil. And if your honour please to ride abroad, “Ile fetch your lustie steedes more swift of pace “Then winged Pegasus in all his pride. “That ran so swiftlie over Persian plaines. “Tom. And if your honour please to hunt the deere, “Your hounds stands readie cuppled at the doore, “Who in running will oretake the row, “And make the long-breathde tygre broken-winded.” Steevens.

Note return to page 796 6&lblank; small ale.] This beverage is mentioned in the accounts of the Stationers' Company in the year 1558: “For a stande of small ale;” I suppose it was what we now call small beer, no mention of that liquor being made on the same books, though duble bere, and duble duble ale, are frequently recorded. Steevens. It appears from The Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher, Act IV. Sc. II. that single beer and small beer were synonymous terms. Malone.

Note return to page 797 7&lblank; of Burton-heath; &lblank; Marian Hacket the fat ale-wife of Wincot,] I suspect we should read—Barton-heath. Barton and Woodmancot, or, as it is vulgarly pronounced, Woncot, are both of them in Gloucestershire, near the residence of Shakspeare's old enemy, Justice Shallow. Very probably too, this fat ale-wife might be a real character. Steevens. Wilnecotte is a village in Warwickshire, with which Shakspeare was well acquainted, near Stratford. The house kept by our genial hostess, still remains, but is at present a mill. The meanest hovel to which Shakspeare has an allusion, interests curiosity, and acquires an importance: at least, it becomes the object of a poetical antiquarian's inquiries. T. Warton. Burton Dorset is a village in Warwickshire. Ritson. There is likewise a village in Warwickshire called Burton Hastings. Among Sir A Cockayn's Poems (as Dr. Farmer and Mr. Steevens have observed,) there is an epigram on Sly and his ale, addressed to Mr. Clement Fisher of Wincot. The text is undoubtedly right. There is a village in Warwickshire called Barton on the Heath, where Mr. Dover, the founder of the Cotswold games, lived. Malone.

Note return to page 798 8&lblank; sheer ale,] It has been suggested to me, by Mr. Jordan, of Stratford, that sheer ale may be ale drunk at harvest. Shearing is used for reaping, in Warwickshire, as well as in the North. Malone.

Note return to page 799 9&lblank; I am not bestraught:] I once thought that if our poet did not design to put a corrupted word into the mouth of the Tinker, we ought to read—distraught, i. e. distracted. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,” &c. For there is no verb extant from which the participle bestraught can be formed. In Albion's England, however, by Warner, 1602, I meet with the word as spelt by Shakspeare: “Now teares had drowned further speech, till she as one bestrought “Did crie,” &c. Again, in the old song, beginning: “When griping grief,” &c. No. 53, Paradyse of Dainty Deuises, edit. 1576: “Be-straughted heads relyef hath founde.” Again, in Lord Surrey's translation of the 4th book of Virgil's Æneid: “Well near bestraught, upstart his heare for dread.” Steevens. Bestraught seems to have been synonymous to distraught or distracted. See Minsheu's Dict. 1617: “Bestract, a Lat. distractus mente. Vi. Mad and Bedlam.” Malone.

Note return to page 800 1&lblank; leet,] At the Court-leet, or courts of the manor. Johnson. “And say, you would present her at the leet, “Because she brought stone jugs, and no seal'd quarts:” The leet is the Court-leet, or View of frank pledge, held anciently once a year within a particular hundred, manor, or lordship, before the steward of the leet. See Kitchen, on Courts, 4th edit. 1663: “The residue of the matters of the charge which ensue,” says that writer, on Court Leets, p. 21, “are enquirable and presentable, and also punishable in a leet,” He then enumerates the various articles, of which the following is the twenty-seventh: “Also if tiplers sell by cups and dishes, or measures sealed, or not sealed, is inquirable.” See also, Characterismi, or Lenton's Leasures, 12mo. 1631: “He [an informer] transforms himselfe into several shapes, to avoid suspicion of inne-holders, and inwardly joyes at the sight of a blacke pot or jugge, knowing that their sale by sealed quarts, spoyles his market.” Malone.

Note return to page 801 2&lblank; John Naps of Greece,] A hart of Greece, was a fat hart. Graisse, Fr. So in the old ballad of Adam Bell, &c.: “Eche of them slew a hart of graece.” Again, in Ives's Select Papers, at the coronation feast of Elizabeth of York, queen of King Henry VII. among other dishes were “capons of high Greece.” Again, in Arthur Hall's translation of the seventh Iliad, 4to. 1581: “A bull of grease of five yeares olde the yoke that never bare.” Perhaps this expression was used to imply that John Naps (who might have been a real character,) was a fat man: or as Poins calls the associates of Falstaff, Trojans, John Naps might be called a Grecian for such another reason. Steevens. For old John Naps of Greece, read—old John Naps o' th' Green. Blackstone. The addition seems to have been a common one. So, in our author's King Henry IV. Part II.: “Who is next?—Peter Bullcalf of the Green.” In The London Chanticleers, a comedy, 1659, a ballad, entitled “George o' the Green” is mentioned. Again, in our author's King Henry IV. Part II.: “I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot, against Clement Perkes o' the hill.”— The emendation proposed by Sir W. Blackstone was also suggested in Theobald's edition, and adopted by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 802 3In this place, Mr. Pope, and after him other editors, had introduced the three following speeches, from the old play 1607. I have already observed that it is by no means probable, that this former comedy of The Taming of the Shrew was written by Shakspeare, and have therefore removed them from the text: “Sly. By the mass, I think I am a lord indeed: “What is thy name? “Man. Sim, an it please your honour. “Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon, or Simon. “Put forth thy hand, and fill the pot.” Steevens.

Note return to page 803 4Enter the Page, &c.] Thus, in the original play: “Enter the Boy in woman's attire. “Slie. Sim, is this she? “Lord. I, my lord. “Slie. Masse 'tis a pretty wench; what's her name? “Boy. Oh that my lovelie lord would once vouchsafe “To look on me, and leave these frantike fits! “Or were I now but halfe so eloquent “To paint in words what Ile performe in deedes, “I know your honour then would pittie me. “Slie. Harke you mistresse; will you eat a peece of bread? “Come, sit downe on my knee: Sim, drinke to her, Sim; “For she and I will go to bed anon. “Lord. May it please you, your honour's plaiers be come “To offer your honour a plaie. “Slie. A plaie, Sim, O brave! be they my plaiers? “Lord. I, my lord. “Slie. Is there not a foole in the plaie? “Lord. Yes, my lord. “Slie. When will they plaie, Sim? “Lord. Even when it please your honour; they be readie. “Boy. My lord, Ile go bid them begin their plaie. “Slie. Doo, but looke that you come againe. “Boy. I warrant you, my lord; I will not leave you thus. [Exit Boy. “Slie. Come, Sim, where be the plaiers? Sim, stand by me, “And we'll flowt the plaiers out of their coates. “Lord. Ile cal them my lord. Ho, where are you there? “Sound trumpets. “Enter two young gentlemen, and a man, and a boy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 804 5Madam wife,] Mr. Pope gives likewise the following prefix to this speech from the elder play: “Sly. Comes, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her.” Madam. &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 805 6&lblank; come now to bed.] Here Mr. Pope adds again,—Sim, drink to her. Steevens.

Note return to page 806 7Is not a commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?] Thus the old copies; the modern ones read—It is not a commodity, &c. Commonty for comedy, &c. Steevens. In the old play the players themselves use the word commodity corruptly for a comedy. Blackstone.

Note return to page 807 8&lblank; for fruitful Lombardy,] Mr. Theobald reads—from. The former editions, instead of from had for. Johnson. Padua is a city of Lombardy, therefore Mr. Theobald's emendation is unnecessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 808 9&lblank; ingenious &lblank;] I rather think it was written—ingenuous studies, but of this and a thousand such observations there is little certainty. Johnson. In Cole's Dictionary, 1677, it is remarked—“ ingenuous and ingenious are too often confounded.” Thus, in The Match at Midnight, by Rowley, 1633:—“Methinks he dwells in my opinion: a right ingenious spirit, veil'd merely with the variety of youth, and wildness.” Again, in The Bird in a Cage, 1633: “&lblank; deal ingeniously, sweet lady.” Again, so late as the time of the Spectator, No. 437, 1st edit. “A parent who forces a child of a liberal and ingenious spirit,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 809 1Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, &c.] This passage, I think, should be read and pointed thus: “Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, “Gave me my being, and my father first, “A merchant of great traffick through the world, “Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.” In the next line, which should begin a new sentence, Vincentio his son, is the same as Vincentio's son, which Mr. Heath not apprehending, has proposed to alter Vincentio into Lucentio. It may be added, that Shakspeare in other places expresses the genitive case in the same improper manner. See Troilus and Cressida, Act II. Sc. I.: “Mars his ideot.” And Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. III.: “The Count his gallies.” Tyrwhitt. “Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.” The old copy reads— Vincentio's. The emendation was made by Sir T. Hanmer. I am not sure that it is right. Our author might have written: Vincentio's son, come of the Bentivolii. If that be the true reading, this line should be connected with the following, and a colon placed after world in the preceding line; as is the case in the original copy, which adds some support to the emendation now proposed: “Vincentio's son come of the Bentivolli, “Vincentio's son brought up in Florence, “It shall become,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 810 2Vincentio's son,] Mr. Pope for the sake of the metre reads— Vincentio his son; and this alteration was adopted by Mr. Steevens. As there are, however, many other lines in this play exposed to the same metrical objection, the text of the original copy has been retained. Mr. Capell reads—Lucentio his son. Boswell.

Note return to page 811 3&lblank; to serve all hopes conceiv'd,] To fulfil the expectations of his friends. Malone.

Note return to page 812 4Virtue, and that part of philosophy &lblank;] Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read—to virtue; but formerly ply and apply were indifferently used, as to ply or apply his studies. Johnson. The word ply is afterwards used in this scene, and in the same manner, by Tranio: “For who shall bear your part, &c. “Keep house and ply his book?” M. Mason. So, in The Nice Wanton, an ancient interlude, 1560: “O ye children, let your time be well spent, “Applye your learning, and your elders obey.” Again, in Gascoigne's Supposes, 1566 “I feare he applyes his study so, that he will not leave the minute of an houre from his booke.” So in Turbervil's Tragick Tales: “But often come himself to see, “How she her wheele applyde.” Malone.

Note return to page 813 5Mi perdonate,] Old copy—Me perdonato. The emendation was suggested by Mr. Steevens.

Note return to page 814 6&lblank; Aristotle's checks,] Are, I suppose, the harsh rules of Aristotle. Steevens. Such as tend to check and restrain the indulgence of the passions. Malone. So, in Hall's Satires, b. 6. sat. 1: “Well might these checks have fitted former times, “And shoulder'd angry Skelton's breathless rimes.” Malone. Tranio is here descanting on academical learning, and mentions by name six of the seven liberal sciences. I suspect this to be a mis-print, made by some copyist or compositor, for ethicks. The sense confirms it. Blackstone. So, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “I, in some cases: but in these they are best, and Aristotle's ethicks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 815 7Talk logick &lblank;] Old copy—Balk. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. I am by no means satisfied that the old reading is not the right one, although the word is now lost. It seems used in the same sense as here by Spenser, F. Q. b. iii. c. 2, st. 12: “But to occasion him to further talk, “To feed her humour with his pleasing style, “Her list in stryfull termes with him to balke.” Boswell.

Note return to page 816 8&lblank; toquicken you;] i. e. animate. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 9Kath. I pray you, sir, is it your will To make a stale of me amongst these mates?] She means to say, “Do you intend to make a strumpet of me among these companions?—But the expression seems to have been suggested by the chess-term of stale mate, which is used when the game is ended by the king being alone and unchecked, and then forced into a situation from which he is unable to move without going into check. This is a dishonourable termination to the adversary who thereby loses the game. Thus in Lord Verulam's twelfth essay “They stand still like a stale at chess, where it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir.”

Note return to page 818 1A pretty peat!] Peat or pet is a word of endearment from petit, little, as if it meant pretty little thing. Johnson. This word is used in the old play of King Leir, (not Shakspeare's): “Gon. I marvel, Ragan, how you can endure “To see that proud, pert peat, our youngest sister,” &c. Again, in Coridon's Song, by Thomas Lodge; published in England's Helicon, 1600: “And God send every pretty peate, “Heigh hoe the pretty peate,” &c. and is, I believe, of Scotch extraction, I find it in one of the proverbs of that country, where it signifies darling: “He has fault of a wife, that marries mam's pet,” i. e. He is in great want of a wife who marries one that is her mother's darling. Stevens.

Note return to page 819 2&lblank; so strange?] That is, so odd, so different from others in your conduct. Johnson.

Note return to page 820 3&lblank; cunning men,] Cunning had not yet lost its original signification of knowing, learned, as may be observed in the translation of the Bible. Johnson.

Note return to page 821 4&lblank; your gifts &lblank;] Gifts for endowments. Malone. So, before in this comedy: “&lblank; a woman's gift, “To rain a shower of commanded tears.” Steevens.

Note return to page 822 5&lblank; Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out;] I cannot conceive whose love Gremio can mean by the words their love, as they had been talking of no love but that which they themselves felt for Bianca. We must therefore read, our love, instead of their. M. Mason. Perhaps we should read—Your love. In the old manner of writing, yr stood for either their or your. The editor of the third folio and some modern editors, with, I think, less probability, read our. If their love be right, it must mean—the good will of Baptista and Bianca towards us. Malone.

Note return to page 823 6&lblank; I will wish him to her father.] i. e. I will recommend him. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “To wish him wrestle with affection.” Reed.

Note return to page 824 7&lblank; upon advice.] i. e. on consideration, or reflection. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “How shall I dote on her, with more advice, “That thus, without advice, begin to love her!” Steevens.

Note return to page 825 8&lblank; Happy man be his dole!] A proverbial expression. It is used in Damon and Pithias, 1571. Dole is any thing dealt out or distributed, though its original meaning was the provision given away at the doors of great men's houses. Steevens. In Cupid's Revenge, by Beaumont and Fletcher, we meet with a similar expression, which may serve to explain that before us: “Then happy man be his fortune!” i. e. May his fortune be that of a happy man! Malone.

Note return to page 826 9&lblank; He that runs fastest, gets the ring.] An allusion to the sport of running at the ring. Douce.

Note return to page 827 1&lblank; is not rated &lblank;] Is not driven out by chiding. Malone. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; 'tis to be chid, “As we rate boys.” Steevens.

Note return to page 828 2If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so,—] The next line from Terence shows that we should read: If Love hath toyl'd you,— i. e. taken you in his toils, his nets. Alluding to the captus est, habet, of the same author. Warburton. It is a common expression at this day to say, when a bailiff has arrested a man, that he has touched him on the shoulder. Therefore touch'd is as good a translation of captus, as toyl'd would be. Thus, in As You Like It, Rosalind says to Orlando: “Cupid hath clapt him on the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.” Mason. There is no allusion here to an arrest or clapping on the shoulder; the meaning is, has possessed your feelings: So, in Lear: “Touch me with noble anger.” So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “The most bitter touch of sorrow.” So, in Cymbeline: “I know no touch of consanguinity:” And in a multitude of other instances. Malone.

Note return to page 829 3Redime, &c.] Our author had this line from Lilly, which I mention, that it may not be brought as an argument for his learning. Johnson. Dr. Farmer's pamphlet affords an additional proof that this line was taken from Lilly, and not from Terence; because it is quoted, as it appears in the grammarian, and not as it appears in the poet. It is introduced also in Decker's Bellman's Night-Walk, &c. It may be added, that captus est, habet, is not in the same play which furnished the quotation. Steevens.

Note return to page 830 4&lblank; longly &lblank;] i. e. longingly. I have met with no example of this adverb. Steevens.

Note return to page 831 5&lblank; daughter of Agenor &lblank;] Europa, for whose sake Jupiter transformed himself into a bull. Steevens.

Note return to page 832 6&lblank; she shall not be annoy'd &lblank;] Old copy—she will not. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 833 7Basta;] i. e. 'tis enough; Italian and Spanish. This expression occurs in The Mad Lover, and The Little French Lawyer, of Beaumont and Fletcher. Steevens.

Note return to page 834 8&lblank; I have it full.] i. e. conceive our stratagem in its full extent. I have already planned the whole of it. So, in Othello: “I have it, 'tis engender'd &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 835 9&lblank; port,] Port is figure, show, appearance. Johnson. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, “How much I have disabled mine estate “By something showing a more swelling port “Than my faint means would grant continuance.” Reed.

Note return to page 836 1&lblank; or mean man of Pisa.] The old copy, regardless of metre, reads—meaner. Steevens. Mr. Steevens, would introduce an awkward hobbling line, for the sake of getting rid of a correct Alexandrine. Boswell.

Note return to page 837 2&lblank; and fear I was descried:] i. e. I fear I was observed in the act of killing him. The editor of the third folio reads—I am descried; which has been adopted by the modern editors. Malone.

Note return to page 838 3So would I,] The old copy has—could. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 839 4&lblank; your master &lblank;] Old copy—you master. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 840 5&lblank; good and weighty.] The division for the second Act of this play is neither marked in the folio nor quarto editions. Shakspeare seems to have meant the first Act to conclude here, where the speeches of the Tinker are introduced; though they have been hitherto thrown to the end of the first Act, according to a modern and arbitrary regulation. Steevens.

Note return to page 841 6Exeunt.] Here in the old copy we have—“The Presenters above speak.”—meaning Sly, &c. who were placed in a balcony raised at the back of the stage. After the words—“Would it were done,” the marginal direction is—They sit and mark. Malone.

Note return to page 842 7&lblank; has rebused your worship?] What is the meaning of rebused? or is it a false print for abused? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 843 8Knock you here,] Grumio's pretensions to wit have a strong resemblance to those of Dromio in The Comedy of Errors; and this circumstance makes it the more probable that these two plays were written at no great distance of time from each other. Malone.

Note return to page 844 9&lblank; wring it;] Here seems to be a quibble between ringing at a door, and wringing a man's ears Steevens.

Note return to page 845 1Help, masters,] The old copy reads here, and in several other places in this play, mistress instead of masters. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. In the MSS. of our author's age, M was the common abbreviation of Master and Mistress. Hence the mistake. See the Merchant of Venice, Act V. 1600, and 1623: “What ho, M. [Master] Lorenzo, and M. [Mistress] Lorenzo.” Malone.

Note return to page 846 2&lblank; mio Petruchio.] Gascoigne, in his Supposes, has spelt this name correctly Petrucio, but Shakspeare wrote it as it appears in the text in order to teach the actors how to pronounce it. So Decker, in his Honest Whore, has the character of Infelice; but not chusing to trust to the performer's understanding Italian, he has spelt it Infeliche. Malone.

Note return to page 847 3&lblank; what he 'leges in Latin.] i. e. I suppose, what he alleges in Latin. Petruchio has been just speaking Italian to Hortensio, which Grumio mistakes for the other language. Steevens. I cannot help suspecting that we should read—Nay, 'tis no matter what be leges in Latin, if this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service. Look you, sir.—That is, 'Tis no matter what is law, if this be not a lawful cause,” &c. Tyrwhitt. Tyrwhitt's amendment and explanation of this passage is evidently right. Mr. Steevens appears to have been a little absent when he wrote his note on it. He forgot that Italian was Grumio's native language, and that therefore he could not possibly mistake if for Latin. M. Mason. I am grateful to Mr. M. Mason for his hint, which may prove beneficial to me on some future occasion, though at the present moment it will not operate so forcibly as to change my opinion. I was well aware that Italian was Grumio's native language, but was not, nor am now, certain of our author's attention to this circumstance, because his Italians necessarily speak English throughout the play, with the exception of a few colloquial sentences. So little regard does our author pay to petty proprieties, that as often as Signior, the Italian appellation, does not occur to him, or suit the measure of his verse, he gives us in its room, “Sir Vincentio,” and “Sir Lucentio.” Steevens.

Note return to page 848 4&lblank; a pip out?] The old copy has—peepe. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 849 5&lblank; knock me soundly?] Shakspeare seems to design a ridicule on this clipped and ungrammatical phraseology; which yet he has introduced in Othello: “I pray talk me of Cassio.” It occurs again, and more improperly, in heroic translation: “&lblank; upon advantage spide, “Did wound me Molphey on the leg,” &c. Arthur Golding's Ovid, B. v. p. 66, b. Steevens.

Note return to page 850 6Why, this a heavy chance, &c.] I should read: Why this so heavy chance, &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 851 7Where small experience grows. But, in a few,] In a few, means the same as in short, in few words. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “In few;—his death, whose spirit lent a fire,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 852 8(As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance,)] The burthen of a dance is an expression which I have never heard; the burthen of his wooing song had been more proper. Johnson.

Note return to page 853 9Be she as foul as was Florentius' love.] I suppose this alludes to the story of a Florentine, which is met with in the eleventh Book of Thomas Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, and perhaps in other Collections: “39. A Florentine young gentleman was so deceived by the lustre and orientness of her jewels, pearls, rings, lawns, scarfes, laces, gold spangles, and other gaudy devices, that he was ravished overnight, and was mad till the marriage was solemnized. But next morning by light viewing her before she was so gorgeously trim'd up, she was such a leane, yellow, riveled, deformed creature, that he never lay with her, nor lived with her afterwards; and would say that he had married himself to a stinking house of office, painted over, and set out with fine garments: and so for grief consumed away in melancholy, and at last poysoned himself.” Gomesius, lib. iii. de Sal. Gen. cap. 22. Farmer. The allusion is to a story told by Gower in the first Book De Confessione Amantis. Florent is the name of a knight who had bound himself to marry a deformed hag, provided she taught him the solution of a riddle on which his life depended. The following is the description of her: “Florent his wofull heed up lifte, “And saw this vecke, where that she sit, “Which was the lothest wighte “That ever man caste on his eye: “Hir nose baas, hir browes hie, “Hir eyes small, and depe sette, “Her chekes ben with teres wette, “And rivelyn as an empty skyn, “Hangyng downe unto the chyn; “Her lippes shronken ben for age, “There was no grace in hir visage. “Hir front was narowe, hir lockes hore, “She loketh foorth as doth a more: “Hir necke is shorte, hir shulders courbe, “That might a mans luste distourbe: “Hir bodie great, and no thyng small, “And shortly to descrive hir all, “She hath no lith without a lacke, “But like unto the woll sacke:” &c.— “Though she be the fouleste of all,” &c. This story might have been borrowed by Gower from an older narrative in the Gesta Romanorum. See the Introductory Discourse to The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition, vol. iv. p. 153. Steevens.

Note return to page 854 1&lblank; were she as rough &lblank;] The old copy reads—were she is as rough. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 855 2&lblank; aglet-baby;] i. e. a diminutive being, not exceeding in size the tag of a point. So, in Jeronimo, 1605: “And all those stars that gaze upon her face, “Are aglets on her sleeve-pins and her train.” Steevens. An aglet-baby was a small image or head cut on the tag of a point, or lace. That such figures were sometimes appended to them, Dr. Warburton has proved, by a passage in Mezeray, the French historian:—“portant meme sur les aiguillettes [points] des petites tetes de mort.” Malone.

Note return to page 856 3&lblank; as many diseases as two and fifty horses:] I suspect this passage to be corrupt, though I know not how to rectify it.—The fifty diseases of a horse seem to have been proverbial. So, in The Yorkshire Tragedy, 1608: “O stumbling jade! the spavin o'ertake thee! the fifty diseases stop thee!” Malone.

Note return to page 857 4&lblank; (and that is faults enough,) [And that one is itself a host of faults. The editor of the second folio, who has been copied by all the subsequent editors, unnecessarily reads—and that is fault enough. Malone.

Note return to page 858 5&lblank; shrewd,] Here means, having the qualities of a shrew. So, a little before this, p. 399: “&lblank; as curst and shrewd “As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse.” The adjective is now used only in the sense of acute, intelligent. Malone. I believe shrewd only signifies bitter, severe. So, in As You Like It, sc. ult.: “That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 859 6&lblank; an he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks.] This is obscure. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—he'll rail in his rhetorick; I'll tell you, &c. Rhetorick agrees very well with figure in the succeeding part of the speech, yet I am inclined to believe that rope-tricks is the true word. Johnson. In Romeo and Juliet, Shakspeare uses ropery for roguery, and therefore certainly wrote rope-tricks. Rope-tricks we may suppose to mean tricks of which the contriver would deserve the rope. Steevens. Rope-tricks is certainly right.—Ropery or rope-tricks originally signified abusive language, without any determinate idea; such language as parrots are taught to speak. So, in Hudibras: “Could tell what subt'lest parrots mean, “That speak, and think contrary clean; “What member 'tis of whom they talk, “When they cry rope, and walk, knave walk.” The following passage in Wilson's Arte of Rhetorique, 1553, shews that this was the meaning of the term: “Another good fellow in the countrey, being an officer and maiour of a toune, and desirous to speak like a fine learned man, having just occasion to rebuke a runnegate fellow, said after this wise in great heate: Thou yngram and vacation knave, if I take thee any more within the circumcision of my damnacion, I will so corrupte thee that all vacation knaves shall take ill sample by thee.” This the author in the margin calls—“rope ripe chiding.” So, in May-day, a comedy, by Chapman, 1611: “Lord! how you roll in your rope-ripe terms.” Malone.

Note return to page 860 7&lblank; stand him &lblank;] i. e. withstand, resist him. Steevens.

Note return to page 861 8&lblank; that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat:] The humour of this passage I do not understand. This animal is remarkable for the keenness of its sight. In The Castell of Laboure, however, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, 1506, is the following line: “That was as blereyed as a cat.” There are two proverbs which any reader who can, may apply to this allusion of Grumio: “Well might the cat wink when both her eyes were out.” “A muffled cat was never a good hunter.” The first is in Ray's Collection, the second in Kelly's. Steevens. It may mean, that he shall swell up her eyes with blows, till she shall seem to peep with a contracted pupil, like a cat in the light. Johnson. Nothing is more common in ludicrous or playful discourse than to use a comparison where no resemblance is intended. When Johnson said of himself, that at one time he read like a Turk, he certainly did not mean to be understood, that the Turks were a remarkably studious people. Boswell.

Note return to page 862 9&lblank; in Baptista's keep &lblank;] Keep is custody. The strongest part of an ancient castle was called the keep. Steevens. Keep is care. So, in Silk Wormes and their Flies: “Yet fear thou not, it is but natures feat, “Who nathless hath of peerless spinsters keepe. Malone.

Note return to page 863 1And her withholds, &c.] It stoods thus: And her withholds from me, Other more suitors to her, and rivals in my love, &c. The regulation which I have given to the text, was dictated to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 864 2Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en;] To take order is to take measures. So, in Othello: “Honest Iago hath ta'en order for it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 865 3Well seen in musick,] Seen is versed, practised. So, in a very ancient comedy called The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art: “Sum would have you seen in stories, “Sum to feates of arms will you allure, &c. “Sum will move you to reade Scripture. “Marry, I would have you seene in cardes and dise.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. ii.: “Well seene in every science that mote bee.” Again, in Chapman's version of the 19th Iliad: “Seven ladies excellently seen in all Minerva's skill.” Steevens.

Note return to page 866 4&lblank; at any hand;] i. e. at all events. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; let him fetch off his drum, in any hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 867 5To whom they go.] The old copy reads—To whom they go to. Steevens.

Note return to page 868 6&lblank; for fair Bianca:] The old copy redundantly reads—“for the fair Bianca.” Steevens.

Note return to page 869 7&lblank; help me &lblank;] The old copy reads—help one. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 870 8&lblank; old Antonio's son:] The old copy reads—Butonio's son. Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 871 9&lblank; and trumpets' clang?] Probably the word clang is here used adjectively, as in the Paradise Lost, b. xi. v. 834, and not as a verb: “&lblank; an island salt and bare, “The haunt of seals, and ores, and sea-mews clang.” T. Warton. I believe Mr. Warton is mistaken. Clang, as a substantive, is used in The Noble Gentleman of Beaumont and Fletcher: “I hear the clang of trumpets in this house.” Again, in Tamburlaine, &c. 1590: “&lblank; hear you the clang “Of Scythian trumpets?”— Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “The trumpets clang, and roaring noise of drums.” Again, in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “Hath not the clang of harsh Armenian troops,” &c. Again, in Drant's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry, 1567: “Fit for a chorus, and as yet the boystus sounde and shryll “Of trumpetes clang the stalles was not accustomed to fill.” Lastly, in Turberville's translation of Ovid's epistle from Medea to Jason: “Doleful to me than is the trumpet's clang.” The trumpet's clang is certainly the clang of trumpets, and not an epithet bestowed on those instruments. Steevens.

Note return to page 872 1&lblank; so great a blow to the ear,] The old copy reads—to hear. Steevens. This aukward phrase could never come from Shakspeare. He wrote, without question: &lblank; so great a blow to th' ear. Warburton. The emendation is Sir T. Hanmer's. Malone. So, in King John: “Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his “But buffets better than a fist of France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 873 2&lblank; with bugs.] i. e. with bug-bears. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; are become “The mortal bugs o' the field.” Steevens.

Note return to page 874 3He that has the two fair daughters, &c.] This speech should rather be given to Gremio; to whom, with the others, Tranio has addressed himself. The following passages might be written thus: “Tra. “Even he. Biondello! “Gre. “Hark you, sir; you mean not her too.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 875 4Even he, Biondello.] Mr. Tyrwhitt would regulate this line thus:—“Even he. Biondello!” But I think the old copy, both here and in the preceding speech, is right. Biondello adds to what his master had said, the words—“He that has the two fair daughters,” to ascertain more precisely the person for whom he had enquired; and then addresses Tranio: “&lblank; is't he you mean?” Malone.

Note return to page 876 5&lblank; You mean not her to—] I believe, an abrupt sentence was intended; or perhaps Shakspeare might have written—her to woo. Tranio in his answer might mean, that he would woo the father, to obtain his consent, and the daughter for herself. This, nowever, will not complete the metre. I incline, therefore, to my first supposition. Malone. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's regulation. Steevens.

Note return to page 877 6&lblank; this feat,] The old copy reads—this seek. The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 878 5Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,] Mr. Theobald asks what they were to contrive? and then says, a foolish corruption possesses the place, and so alters it to convive; in which he is followed, as he pretty constantly is, when wrong, by the Oxford editor. But the common reading is right, and the critic was only ignorant of the meaning of it. Contrive does not signify here to project but to spend, and wear out. As in this passage of Spenser: “Three ages such as mortal men contrive.” Fairy Queen, b. xi. ch. ix. Warburton. The word is used in the same sense of spending or wearing out, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Johnson. So, in Damon and Pithias, 1571: “In travelling countries, we three have contrived “Full many a year,” &c. Contrive, I suppose, is from contero. So, in the Hecyra of Terence: “Totum hunc contrivi diem.” Steevens.

Note return to page 879 6&lblank; as adversaries do in law,] By adversaries in law, I believe, our author means not suitors, but barristers, who, however warm in their opposition to each other in the courts of law, live in greater harmony and friendship in private, than perhaps those of any other of the liberal professions. Their clients seldom “eat and drink with their adversaries as friends.” Malone.

Note return to page 880 7&lblank; Fellows, let's begone.] Fellows means fellow-servants. Grumio and Biondello address each other, and also the disguised Lucentio. Malone.

Note return to page 881 8&lblank; nor wrong yourself,] Do not act in a manner unbecoming a woman and a sister. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Master Ford, this wrongs you.” Malone.

Note return to page 882 9&lblank; but for these other gawds,] The old copy reads—these other goods. Steevens. This is so trifling and unexpressive a word, that I am satisfied our author wrote gawds, (i. e. toys, trifling ornaments;) a term that he frequently uses and seems fond of. Theobald.

Note return to page 883 1&lblank; I charge thee,] Thee, which was accidentally omitted in the old copy, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 884 2&lblank; to keep you fair.] I wish to read—to keep you fine. But either word may serve. Johnson.

Note return to page 885 3&lblank; hilding &lblank;] The word hilding or hinderling, is a low wretch; it is applied to Katharine for the coarseness of her behaviour. Johnson.

Note return to page 886 4Will you not suffer me?] The old copy reads—What, will, &c. The compositor probably caught the former word from the preceding line. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 887 5And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.] “To lead apes” was in our author's time, as at present, one of the employments of a bear-ward, who often carries about one of those animals along with his bear: but I know not how this phrase came to be applied to old maids. We meet with it again in Much Ado About Nothing: “Therefore (says Beatrice,) I will even take six-pence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his apes to hell.” Malone. That women who refused to bear children, should, after death, be condemned to the care of apes in leading-strings, might have been considered as an act of posthumous retribution. Steevens.

Note return to page 888 6Beccare! you are marvellous forward.] We must read— Baccalare; by which the Italians mean, thou arrogant, presumptuous man! the word is used scornfully upon any one that would assume a port of grandeur. Warburton. The word is neither wrong nor Italian: it was an old proverbial one, used by John Heywood; who hath made, what he pleases to call, Epigrams upon it. Take two of them, such as they are: “Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow, “Went that sow backe at that bidding, trow you?” “Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow: se, “Mortimer's sow speaketh as good Latin as he.” Howel takes this from Heywood, in his Old Sawes and Adages: and Philpot introduces it into the proverbs collected by Camden. Farmer. Again, in the ancient Enterlude of The Repentance of Mary Magdalene, 1567: “Nay, hoa there, Backare, you must stand apart: “You love me best, I trow, mistresse Mary.” Again, in John Lyly's Midas, 1592: “The masculine gender is more worthy than the feminine, and therefore, Licio, Backare.” Again, in John Grange's Golden Aphroditis, 1577: “&lblank; yet wrested he so his effeminate bande to the siege of backwarde affection, that both trumpe and drumme sounded nothing for their larum, but Baccare, Baccare.” Steevens.

Note return to page 889 7Neighbour,] The old copy has—neighbours. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 890 8I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.— Neighbour, this is a gift &lblank;] The old copy gives the passage as follows: “I doubt it not, sir. But you will curse “Your wooing neighbors: this is a guift &lblank;” Steevens. This nonsense may be rectified by only pointing it thus:—I doubt it not, sir, but you will curse your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift, &c. addressing himself to Baptista. Warburton.

Note return to page 891 9I freely give unto you this young scholar,] Our modern editors had been long content with the following sophisticated reading:—free leave give to this young scholar &lblank;. Steevens. This is an injudicious correction of the first folio, which reads —freely give unto this young scholar. We should read, I believe: I freely give unto you this young scholar, That hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning In Greek, &c. Tyrwhitt. If this emendation wanted any support, it might be had in the preceding part of this scene, where Petruchio, presenting Hortensio to Baptista, uses almost the same form of words: “And, for an entrance to my entertainment, “I do present you with a man of mine, “Cunning in musick,” &c. Free leave give, &c. was the absurd correction of the editor of the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 892 1&lblank; this small packet of Greek and Latin books:] In Queen Elizabeth's time the young ladies of quality were usually instructed in the learned languages, if any pains were bestowed on their minds at all. Lady Jane Grey and her sisters, Queen Elizabeth, &c. are trite instances. Percy.

Note return to page 893 2Lucentio is your name?] How should Baptista know this? Perhaps a line is lost, or perhaps our author was negligent. Mr. Theobald supposes they converse privately, and that thus the name is learned; but then the action must stand still; for there is no speech interposed between that of Tranio and this of Baptista. Another editor imagines that Lucentio's name was written on the packet of books. Malone.

Note return to page 894 3I know him well:] It appears in a subsequent part of this play, that Baptista was not personally acquainted with Vincentio. The pedant indeed talks of Vincentio and Baptista having lodged together twenty years before at an inn in Genoa; but this appears to have been a fiction for the nonce; for when the pretended Vincentio is introduced, Baptista expresses no surprise at his not being the same man with whom he had formerly been acquainted; and, when the real Vincentio appears, he supposes him an impostor. The words therefore, I know him well, must mean,—I know well who he is. Baptista uses the same words before, speaking of Petruchio's father: “I know him well; you are welcome for his sake:”—where they must have the same meaning; viz. I know who he was; for Petruchio's father is supposed to have died before the commencement of this play. Some of the modern editors point the passage before us thus: A mighty man of Pisa; by report I know him well.— But it is not so pointed in the old copy, and the regulation seems unnecessary, the very same words having been before used with equal licence concerning the father of Petruchio. Again, in Timon of Athens: “We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him.” Malone.

Note return to page 895 4&lblank; and tell them both] The second folio reads more metrically: “To my two daughters; and then tell them both,” But as lines similar to that in the text are of frequent occurrence, I have made no alteration. Malone.

Note return to page 896 5And every day I cannot come to woo,] This is the burthen of part of an old ballad entitled The Ingenious Braggadocio; “And I cannot come every day to wooe.” It appears also from a quotation in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, that it was a line in his Interlude, entitled the Woer: “Iche praye you good mother tell our young dame “Whence I am come, and what is my name; “I cannot come a woing every day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 897 6&lblank; I'll assure her of Her widowhood,] Sir T. Hanmer reads—for her widowhood. The reading of the old copy is harsh to our ears, but it might have been the phraseology of the time. Malone. Perhaps we should read—on her widowhood. In the old copies on and of are not unfrequently confounded, through the printers' inattention. Steevens.

Note return to page 898 7&lblank; her frets,] A fret is that stop of a musical instrument which causes or regulates the vibration of the string. Johnson.

Note return to page 899 8And&lblank; twangling Jack;] Of this contemptuous appellation I know not the precise meaning. Something like it, however, occurs in Magnificence, an ancient folio interlude by Skelton, printed by Rastell: “&lblank; ye wene I were some hafter, “Or ellys some jangelynge jacke of the vale.” Steevens. To twangle is a provincial expression, and signifies to flourish capriciously on an instrument, as performers often do after having tuned it, previous to their beginning a regular composition. Henley. Twangling Jack is, mean, paltry lutanist. Malone.

Note return to page 900 9&lblank; she had &lblank;] In the old copy these words are accidentally transposed. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 901 1As morning roses newly wash'd with dew:] So, Milton in his L'Allegro: “There on beds of violets blue, “And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew.” So, in Barnaby Riche's Farewell to Militarie Profession: “&lblank; lamenting with teares that trickled down her cheekes, like droppes of dew upon roses in a Maie morning.” So also, in the old Taming of a Shrew, as Mr. Todd observes: “As glorious as the morning washt with dew.” Malone.

Note return to page 902 2Good-morrow, Kate; &c.] Thus, in the original play: “Feran. Twenty good-morrows to my lovely Kate. “Kate. You jeast I am sure; is she yours already? “Feran. I tel thee Kate, I know thou lov'st me well. “Kate. The divel you do; who told you so? “Feran. My mind, sweet Kate, doth say I am the man, “Must wed, and bed, and marrie bonnie Kate. “Kate. Was ever seene so grosse an asse as this? “Feran. I, to stand so long and never get a kisse. “Kate. Hands off, I say, and get you from this place; “Or I will set my ten commandements in your face. “Feran. I prithy do, Kate; they say thou art a shrew, “And like thee better, for I would have thee so. “Kate. Let go my hand, for feare it reach your eare. “Feran. No, Kate, this hand is mine, and I thy love. “Kate. Yfaith, sir, no; the woodcocke wants his taile. “Feran. But yet his bil will serve, if the other faile. “Alfon. How now, Ferando? what [says] my daughter? “Feran. Shee's willing, sir, and loves me as her life. “Kate Tis for your skin then, but not to be your wife. “Alfon. Come hither, Kate, and let me give thy hand, “To him that I have chosen for thy love; “And thou to-morrow shalt be wed to him. “Kate. Why, father, what do you mean to do with me, “To give me thus unto this brainsicke man, “That in his mood cares not to murder me? [She turnes aside and speaks. “But yet I will consent and marry him, “(For I methinkes have liv'd too long a maide,) “And match him too, or else his manhood's good. “Alfon. Give me thy hand: Ferando loves thee well, “And will with wealth and ease maintaine thy state. “Here Ferando, take her for thy wife, “And Sunday next shall be your wedding-day. “Feran. Why so, did I not tel thee I should be the man? “Father, I leave my lovely Kate with you. “Provide yourselves against our marriage day, “For I must hie me to my country-house “In haste, to see provision may be made “To entertaine my Kate when she doth come,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 903 3Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing;] A poor quibble was here intended. It appears from many old English books that heard was pronounced in our author's time, as if it were written hard. Malone.

Note return to page 904 4A joint-stool.] This is a proverbial expression: “Cry you mercy, I took you for a join'd stool.” See Ray's Collection. It is likewise repeated as a proverb in Mother Bombie, a comedy, by Lyly, 1594, and by the Fool in King Lear. Steevens.

Note return to page 905 5No such jade, sir,] The latter word, which is not in the old copy, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone. Perhaps we should read—no such jack. However, there is authority for jade in a male sense. So, in Soliman and Perseda, Piston says of Basilisco, “He just like a knight! He'll just like a jade.” Farmer. So, before, p. 409: “I know he'll prove a jade.” Malone.

Note return to page 906 6Ay, for a turtle; as he takes a buzzard.] Perhaps we may read better— Ay, for a turtle, and he takes a buzzard. That is, he may take me for a turtle, and he shall find me a hawk. Johnson. This kind of expression likewise seems to have been proverbial. So, in the Three Lords of London, 1590: “&lblank; hast no more skill, “Than take a faulcon for a buzzard?” Steevens.

Note return to page 907 7&lblank; a craven.] A craven is a degenerate, dispirited cock. So, in Rhodon and Iris, 1631: “That he will pull the craven from his nest.” Steevens. Craven was a term also applied to those who in appeals of battle became recreant, and by pronouncing this word, called for quarter from their opponents; the consequence of which was, that they for ever after were deemed infamous. See note on 'Tis Pity She's a Whore. Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. viii. p. 10, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 908 8Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.] This is exactly the &grP;&gra;&grs;&grs;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grst; &gre;&grp;&gri;&grt;&gra;&grs;&grs;&gre; of Theocritus, Eid. xv. v. 90, and yet I would not be positive that Shakspeare had ever read even a translation of Theocritus. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 909 9Pet. Am I not wise? Kath. Yes; keep you warm.] So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “&lblank; your house has been kept warm, sir. “I am glad to hear it; pray God, you are wise too.” Again, in our poet's Much Ado About Nothing: “&lblank; that if he has wit enough to keep himself warm.” Steevens.

Note return to page 910 1&lblank; nill you,] So, in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “Will you or nill you, you must yet go in.” Again, in Damon and Pithias, 1571: “Neede hath no law; will I, or nill I, it must be done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 911 2&lblank; a wild kate to a Kate &lblank;] Thus the first folio. The second folio reads: “&lblank; a wild Kat to a Kate.” The modern editors,—a wild cat. Boswell.

Note return to page 912 3&lblank; a second Grissel; &c.] So, in The Fair Maid of Bristow, 1604, bl. l.: “I will become as mild and dutiful “As ever Grissel was unto her lord, “And for my constancy as Lucrece was.” There is a play entered at Stationers' Hall, May [March] 28, 1599, called “The Plaie of Patient Grissel.” Bocaccio was the first known writer of the story, and Chaucer copied it in his Clerke of Oxenforde's Tale. Steevens. The story of Grisel is older than Bocaccio, and is to be found among the compositions of the French Fabliers. Douce.

Note return to page 913 4&lblank; kiss on kiss She vied so fast,] So, in the old play: “Redoubling kiss on kiss upon thy cheeks.” Malone. Vye and revye were terms at cards, now superseded by the more modern word, brag. Our author has in another place, “time revyes us,” which has been unnecessarily altered. The words were frequently used in a sense somewhat remote from the original one. In the famous trial of the seven bishops, the chief justice says: “We must not permit vying and revying upon one another.” Farmer. It appears from a passage in Greene's Tu Quoque, that to vie was one of the terms used at the game of Gleek—“I vie it.”— “I'll none of it;”—“nor I.” The same expression occurs in Randolph's Jealous Lovers, 1632: “All that I have is thine, though I could vie, “For every silver hair upon my head, “A piece of gold.” Steevens. Vie and Revie were terms at Primero, the fashionable game in our author's time. See Florio's Second Frutes, quarto, 1591: “S. Let us play at Primero then. A. What shall we lay for? S. One shilling stake and three rest.—I vye it; will you hould it? A. Yea, sir, I hould it, and revye it.” To out-vie Howel explains in his Dictionary, 1660, thus: “Faire peur ou intimider avec un vray ou feint envy, et faire quitter le jeu a la partie contraire.” Malone.

Note return to page 914 5&lblank; 'tis a world to see,] i. e. it is wonderful to see. This expression is often met with in old historians as well as dramatic writers. So, in Holinshed, vol. i. p. 209: “It is a world to see how many strange heartes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 915 6A meacock wretch &lblank;] i. e. a timorous dastardly creature. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1604: “A woman's well holp up with such a meacock.” Again in Glapthrone's Hollander, 1640: “They are like my husband; mere meacocks verily.” Again, in Apius and Virginia, 1575: “As stout as a stockfish, as meek as a meacock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 916 7&lblank; in the match.] Old copy—me the match. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 917 8But thine doth fry.] Old Gremio's notions are confirmed by Shadwell: “The fire of love in youthful blood, “Like what is kindled in brush-wood,   “But for the moment burns:— “But when crept into aged veins, “It slowly burns, and long remains; “It glows, and with a sullen heat, “Like fire in logs, it burns, and warms us long; “And though the flame be not so great, “Yet is the heat as strong.” Johnson. See also, in A Wonder, a Woman Never Vex'd, a comedy, by Rowley, 1632: “My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonfire, when thy green chips lie hissing in the chimney-corner.” The thought, however, might originate from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “Let not old age disgrace my high desire,   “O heavenly soule in humane shape contain'd! “Old wood inflam'd doth yeeld the bravest fire,   “When yonger doth in smoke his vertue spend.” Steevens.

Note return to page 918 9&lblank; counterpoints,] So, in A Knack to Know a Knave, 1594: “Then I will have rich counterpoints and musk.” These coverings for beds are at present called counterpanes; but either mode of spelling is proper. Counterpoint is the monkish term for a particular species of musick, in which, notes of equal duration, but of different harmony, are set in opposition to each other. In like manner counterpanes were anciently composed of patchwork, and so contrived that every pane or partition in them, was contrasted with one of a different colour, though of the same dimensions. Steevens. Counterpoints were in ancient times extremely costly. In Wat Tyler's rebellion, Stowe informs us, when the insurgents broke into the wardrobe in the Savoy, they destroyed a coverlet, worth a thousand marks. So, in the old play where rich gifts are enumerated, we find: “&lblank; Arabian silkes, “Rich Affrick spices, arras, counterpoints, “Muske, cassia, sweet smelling ambergreece, “Pearle, curtol, chrystal, jet, and ivory.” Malone.

Note return to page 919 1&lblank; tents, and canopies,] I suppose by tents old Gremio means work of that kind which the ladies call tent-stitch. He would hardly enumerate tents (in their common acceptation) among his domestick riches. Steevens. I suspect, the furniture of some kind of bed, in the form of a pavillion, was known by this name in our author's time. This, I suppose, to be the same as that which is termed a field bed in Romeus and Juliet: “Loe here a field (she shewed a field bed ready dight,) “Where you may, if you list, in armes, revenge yourself by fight.” Malone. I conceive, the pavillon, or tent-bed, to have been an article of furniture unknown in the age of Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 920 2Pewter &lblank;] We may suppose that pewter was, even in the time of Queen Elizabeth, too costly to be used in common. It appears from The Regulations and Establishment of the Household of Henry Algernon Percy, the fifth Earl of Northumberland, &c. that vessels of pewter were hired by the year. This Household Book was begun in the year 1512. See Holinshed's Description of England, p. 188 and 189. Steevens.

Note return to page 921 3Gre. Two thousand ducats by the years, of land! My land amounts not to so much in all: That she shall have; besides &lblank;] Though all copies concur in this reading, surely, if we examine the reasoning, something will be found wrong. Gremio is startled at the high settlement Tranio proposes: says, his whole estate in land can't match it, yet he'll settle so much a year upon, &c. This is playing at cross purposes. The change of the negative in the second line salves the absurdity, and sets the passage right. Gremio and Tranio vying in their offers to carry Bianca, the latter boldly proposes to settle land to the amount of two thousand ducats per annum. My whole estate, says the other, in land, amounts but to that value; yet she shall have that: I'll endow her with the whole; and consign a rich vessel to her use over and above. Thus all is intelligible, and he goes on to out-bid his rival. Warburton. Gremio only says, his whole estate in land doth not indeed amount to two thousand ducats a year, but she shall have that, whatever be its value, and an argosy over and above; which argosy must be understood to be of very great value from his subjoining; “What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?” Heath.

Note return to page 922 4&lblank; two GALIASSES,] A galeas or galliass, is a heavy low-built vessel of burthen, with both sails and oars, partaking at once of the nature of a ship and a galley. So, in The Noble Soldier, 1634: “&lblank;, to have rich gulls come aboard their pinnaces, for then they are sure to build galliasses.” Steevens. Galliass is explained by Kersey: “A great double galley.” Malone.

Note return to page 923 5&lblank; out-vied.] This is a term at the old game of gleek. When one man was vied upon another, he was said to be out-vied. So, in Greene's Art of Coneycatching, 1592: “They draw a card, and the barnacle vies upon him,” &c. Again, in The Jealous Lovers, by Randolph, 1632: “Thou canst not finde out wayes enow to spend it; “They will out-vie thy pleasures.” Steevens.

Note return to page 924 6Sirrah, young gamester,] Perhaps alluding to the pretended Lucentio's having before talked of out-vying him. See the last note. Malone. Gamester, in the present instance, has no reference to gaming, and only signifies—a wag, a frolicksome character. So, in King Henry VIII: “You are a merry gamester, my lord Sands.” Steevens.

Note return to page 925 7Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.] That is, with the highest card, in the old simple games of our ancestors. So that this became a proverbial expression. So, Skelton: “Fyrste pycke a quarrel, and fall out with him then, “And so outface him with a card of ten.” And, Ben Jonson, in his Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; a hart of ten “I trow he be.” i. e. an extraordinary good me. Warburton. A hart of ten has no reference to cards, but is an expression taken from The Laws of the Forest, and relates to the age of the deer. When a hart is past six years old, he is generally called of a hart of ten. See Forest Laws, 4to. 1598: Again, in the Sixth Scene of The Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; a great large deer! “Rob. What head? “John. Forked. A hart of ten.” The former expression is very common. So, in Law-Tricks, &c. 1608: “I may be out-fac'd with a card of ten.” Mr. Malone is of opinion that the phrase was “applied to those persons who gained their ends by impudence, and bold confident assertion.” As we are on the subject of cards, it may not be amiss to take notice of a common blunder relative to their names. We call the king, queen, and knave, court-cards, whereas they were anciently denominated coats, or coat-cards, from their coats or dresses. So, in Ben Jonson, in his New Inn: “When she is pleas'd to trick or trump mankind, “Some may be coats, as in the cards.” Again, in May-day, a comedy, by Chapman, 1611: “She had in her hand the ace of hearts and a coat-card. She led the board with her coat; I plaid the varlet, and took up her coat; and meaning to lay my finger on her ace of hearts, up started a quite contrary card.” Again, in Rowley's When You See Me You Know Me, 1621: “You have been at noddy, I see. “Ay, and the first card comes to my hand is a knave. “I am a coat-card, indeed. “Then thou must needs be a knave, for thou art neither queen nor king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 926 8&lblank;If I fail not of my cunning.] As this is the conclusion of an act, I suspect that the poet designed a rhyming couplet. Instead of cunning we might read—doing, which is often used by Shakspeare in the sense here wanted, and agrees perfectly well with the beginning of the line—“a child shall get a sire.” After this, the former editors add— “Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again* [Subnote: *&lblank; when will the fool come again?] The character of the fool has not been introduced in this drama, therefore I believe that the word again should be omitted, and that Sly asks, When will the fool come? the fool being the favourite of the vulgar, or, as we now phrase it, of the upper gallery, was naturally expected in every interlude. Johnson.] ? “Sim. Anon, my lord. “Sly. Give us some more drink here; where's the tapster? “Here, Sim, eat some of these things. “Sim. I do, my lord. “Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee.” These speeches of the presenters (as they are called,) are not in the folio. Mr. Pope, as in some former isntances, introduced them from the old spurious play of the same name; and therefore we may easily account for their want of connection with the present comedy. I have degraded them as usual into the note. By the fool in the original piece, might be meant Sander the servant to Ferando, (who is the Petruchio of Shakspeare,) or Ferando himself. It appears, however, from the following passage in the eleventh Book of Thomas Lupton's Notable Things, edit. 1660, that it was the constant office of the fool to preserve the stage from vacancy: “79. When Stage-plays were in use, there was in every place one that was called the Foole; as he Proverb saies, Like a Fool in a Play. At the Red Bull Play-house it did chance that the Clown or the Fool, being in the attireing house, was suddenly called upon the stage , for it was empty. He suddenly goin, forgot his Fooles-cap. One of the players bad his boy take it, and put it on his head as he was speaking. No such matter (saies the boy,) there's no manners nor wit in that, nor wisdom neither; and my master needs no cap, for he is known to be a Fool without it, as well as with it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 927 9&lblank; this is &lblank;] We should read, with Sir T. Hanner: “But, wrangling pedant, know this lady is.” Ritson.

Note return to page 928 9&lblank; no breeching scholar &lblank;] i. e. no school-boy liable to corporal correction. So, in King Edward the Second, by Marlow, 1598: “Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy.” Again, in The Hog has lost his Pearl, 1614: “&lblank; he went to fetch whips, I think, and, not respecting my honour, he would have breech'd me.” Again, in Amends for Ladies, 1618: “If I had had a son of fourteen that had served me so, I would have breech'd him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 929 1Hac ibat, as I told you before] This species of humour, in which Latin is translated into English of a perfectly different meaning, is not uncommon among our old writers. We meet with instances in Middleton's Witch, and the same author's Chaste Maid of Cheapside. So, in Nashe's Four Letters Confuted, 1593: “Curæ leves loquuntur, he hath but a little care to look to. Majores stupent, more living would make him study more.” Malone.

Note return to page 930 2&lblank; pantaloon.] The old cully in Italian farces. Johnson.

Note return to page 931 3Pedascule,] He should have said Didascale, but thinking this too honourable, he coins the word Pedascule, in imitation of it, from pedant. Warburton. I believe it is no coinage of Shakspeare's, it is more probable that it lay in his way, and he found it. Steevens.

Note return to page 932 4In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.] This and the seven verses that follow, have in all the editions been stupidly shuffled and misplaced to wrong speakers; so that every word said was glaringly out of character. Theobald.

Note return to page 933 5&lblank; for, sure, Æacides, &c.] This is only said to deceive Hortensio, who is supposed to lisen. The pedigree of Ajax, however, is properly made out, and might have been taken from Golding's version of Ovid's Metamorphosis, book xiii.: “&lblank; The highest Jove of all “Acknowledgeth this Æacus, and dooth his sonne him call. “Thus am I Ajax third from Jove.” Steevens.

Note return to page 934 6Good masters,] Old copy—master. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 935 7&lblank; but I be deceiv'd,] But has here the signification of unless. Malone.

Note return to page 936 8To change true rules for odd inventions.] The old copy reads—To charge true rules for old inventions: The former emendation was made by the editor of the second folio; the latter by Mr. Theobald. Old, however may be right. I believe, an opposition was intended. As change was corrupted into charge, why might not true have been put instead of new? Perhaps the author wrote: To change new rules for old inventions: i. e. to accept of new rules in exchange for old inventions. The same error of the press however has happened in all the quarto copies of King Richard III. except the first: “Eighty old years of sorrow have I seen” This therefore is a sufficient ground for Theobald's emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 937 9Enter a Servant.] The old copy reads—Enter a Messenger —who, at the beginning of his speech is called—Nicke. Ritson. Meaning, I suppose, Nicholas Tooley. See Mr. Malone's Historical Account of the English Stage. Steevens.

Note return to page 938 9&lblank; full of spleen;] That is, full of humour, caprice, and inconstancy. Johnson. So, in The First Part of King Henry IV.: “A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 939 1Make friends, invite them, and proclaim the banns;] Them is not in the old copy. For this emendation I am answerable. The editor of the second folio, to supply the defect in the metre, reads, with less probability in my opinion— “Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim, &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 940 2&lblank; vex a saint,] The old copy redundantly reads—vex a very saint. Steevens.

Note return to page 941 3&lblank; of thy impatient humour.] Thy, which is not in the old copy, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 942 4&lblank; old news,] These words were added by Mr. Rowe, and necessarily, for the reply of Baptista supposes them to have been already spoken; old laughing—old utis, &c. are expressions of that time merely hyperbolical, and have been more than once used by Shakspeare. See note on Henry IV. P. II. Act. II. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 943 5&lblank; a pair of boots &lblank; one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points:] How a sword should have two broken points, I cannot tell. There is, I think, a transposition caused by the seeming relation of point to sword. I read, a pair of boots, one buckled, another laced with two broken points; an old rusty sword—with a broken hilt, and chapeless. Johnson. I suspect that several words giving an account of Petruchio's belt are wanting. The belt was then broad and rich, and worn on the outside of the doublet.—Two broken points might therefore have concluded the description of its ostentatious meanness. Steevens. The broken points might be the two broken tags to the laces. Tollet. —that have been candle-cases” That is, I suppose, boots long left off, and after having been converted into cases to hold the ends of candles, returning to tir first office. I do not know that I have ever met with the word candle-case in any other place, except the following preface to a dramatic dialogue, 1604, entitled, The Case is Alter'd, How?—“I write upon cases, neither knife-cases, pin-cases, nor candle-cases.” And again, in How to Choose a Good Wife from a Bad, 1602: “A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case, and a candle-case.” Steevens.

Note return to page 944 6&lblank; the stirrups of no kindred:] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii.: “To this purpose many willing hands were about him, letting him have reynes, pettrell, with the rest of the furniture, and very brave bases; but all comming from divers horses, neither in colour nor fashion showing any kindred one with the other.” Steevens.

Note return to page 945 7&lblank; infected with the fashions, &lblank; past cure of the fives.] Fashions. So called in the West of England, but by the best writers on farriery, farcens, or farcy. “Fives.” So called in the West: vives elsewhere, and avives by the French; a distemper in horses, little differing from the strangles. Grey. Shakspeare is not the only writer who uses fashions for farcy. So, in Decker's comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Shad. What shall we learn by travel? “Andel. Fashions. “Shad. That's a beastly disease.” Again, in The New Ordinary, by Brome: “My old beast is infected with the fashions, fashion-sick.” Again, in Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609: “Fashions was then counted a disease, and horses died of it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 946 8&lblank; swayed in the back,] The old copy has—waid. Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone. So, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 28th book of Pliny's Natural History, ch. iv. p. 300: “&lblank; for let them be swaied in the backe, or hipped by some stripe,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 947 9&lblank; ne'er legg'd before,] i. e. founder'd in his fore-feet; having, as the jockies term it, never a fore leg to stand on. The subsequent words—“which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling,”—seem to countenance this interpretation. The modern editors read—near-legg'd before; but to go near before is not reckoned a defect, but a perfection, in a horse. Malone.

Note return to page 948 1&lblank; crupper of velure,] Velure is velvet. Velours, Fr. So, in The World Tossed at Tennis, by Middleton and Rowley: “Come, my well-lined soldier (with valour, “Not velure,) keep me warm.” Again, in The Noble Gentleman, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; an old hat, “Lin'd with velure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 949 2&lblank; stock &lblank;] i. e. stocking. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; it [his leg] does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 950 3&lblank; an old hat, and The humour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather:] This was some ballad or drollery at that time, which the poet here ridicules, by making Petruchio prick it up in his foot-boy's hat for a feather. His speakers are perpetuallly quoting scraps and stanzas of old ballads, and often very obscurely; for, so well are they adapted to the occasion, that: they seem of a piece with the rest. In Shakspeare's time, the kingdom was over-run with these doggrel compositions, and he seems to have borne them a very particular grudge. He frequently ridicules both them and their makers, with excellent humour. In Much Ado About Nothing, he makes Benedick say: “Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I get again with drinking, prick out my eyes with a ballad-maker's pen.” As the bluntness of it would make the execution of it extremely painful. And again, in Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus in his distress having repeated a very stupid stanza from an old ballad, says, with the highest humour: “There never was a truer rhyme; let's cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse. We see it, we see it.” Warburton. I have some doubts concerning this interpretation. A fancy appears to have been some ornament worn formerly in the hat. So, Peacham, in his Worth of a Penny, describing “an indigent and discontented soldat,” says, “he walks with his arms folded, his belt without a sword or rapier, that perhaps being somewhere in trouble; a hat without a band, hanging over his eyes; only it wears a weather-beaten fancy for fashion-sake. This lackey therefore did not wear a common fancy in his hat, but some fantastical ornament, comprizing the humour of forty different fancies. Such, I believe, is the meaning. A couplet in one of Sir John Davies's Epigrams, 1598, may also add support to my interpretation: “Nor for thy love will I once gnash a bricke, “Or some pied colours in my bonnet sticke.” A fancy, however, meant also a love-song or sonnet, or other poem. So, in Sapho and Phao, 1591: “I must now fall from love to labour, and endeavour with mine oar to get a fare, not with my pen to write a fancy.” So, in Goffe's Careless Shepherdess, 1656. “'Cause you sell fancies, and can cast account, “Do you think your brain conceives poetick numbers?” If the word was used here in this sense, the meaning is, that the lackey had stuck forty ballads together, and made something like a feather out of them. The term to prick in is used by Bacon in the same sense as it is in this passage:—“Let it appear that he doth not change his country manners, for those of foreign parts; but only prick in some flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of his own country.” Essuies or Counsels, 4to. 1625, p. 104. Malone. Dr. Warburton might have strengthened his supposition by observing, that the Humour of Forty Fancies was probably a collection of those short poems which are called Fancies, by Falstaff, in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; sung those tunes which he heard the carmen whistle, and swore they were his Fancies, his good-nights.” Nor is the Humour of Forty Fancies a more extraordinary title to a collection of poems, than the well-known Hundred sundrie Flowers bounde up in one small Poesie.—A Paradise of Dainty Devises.—The Arbor of Amorous Conceits.—The Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions.—The Forest of Histories.—The Ordinary of Humors, &c. Chance, at some future period, may establish as a certainty what is now offered as a conjecture. A penny book, containing forty short poems, would, properly managed, furnish no unapt imitation of a plume of feathers for the hat of a humourist's servant. Steevens.

Note return to page 951 4Enter Petruchio and Grumio.] Thus, in the original play: “Enter Ferando, basely attired, and a red cap on his head. “Feran. Good morrow, father: Polidor well met, “You wonder, I know, that I have staide so long, “Alfon. Yea, marry sonne: we were almost persuaded “That we should scarce have had our bridegroome heere: “But say, why art thou thus basely attired? “Feran. Thus richly, father, you should have saide; “For when my wife and I are married once, “Shee's such a shrew, if we should once fall out, “Sheele pull my costly sutes over mine ears, “And therefore I am thus attir'd a while: “For many things I tell you's in my head, “And none must know thereof but Kate and I; “For we shall live like lambes and lions sure: “Nor lambes to lions never were so tame, “If once they lie within the lions pawes, “As Kate to me, if we were married once: “And therefore, come, let's to church presently. “Pol. Fie, Ferando! not thus attired: for shame, “Come to my chamber, and there suite thyselfe, “Of twenty sutes that I did never weare. “Feran. Tush, Polidor: I have as many sutes “Fantastike made to fit my humour so, “As any in Athens; and as richly wrought “As was the massie robe that late adorn'd “The stately legat of the Persian king. “And this from them I have made choise to weare. “Alfon. I prethee, Ferando, let me intreat, “Before thou go'st unto the church with us, “To put some other sute upon thy backe. “Feran. Not for the world,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 952 5&lblank; to digress:] To deviate from my promise. Johnson.

Note return to page 953 6Tra. But, sir, to her love &lblank;] Mr. Theobald reads—our love. Steevens. Our is an injudicious interpolation. The first folio reads—“But, sir, love concerneth us to add, Her father's liking,” which, I think, should be thus corrected: But sir, to her love concerneth us to add Her father's liking.— We must suppose, that Lucentio had before informed Tranio in private of his having obtained Bianca's love; and Tranio here resumes the conversation, by observing, that to her love it concerns them to add her father's consent; and then goes on to propose a scheme for obtaining the latter. Tyrwhitt. The nominative case to the verb concerneth is here understood. A similar licence may be found in As You Like It, Act V. Sc. ult.: “And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, “Where meeting with an old religious man, “After some question with him, was converted.” Again, in Coriolanus; “Remains that in the official marks invested, “You anon do meet the senate.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “The beauty that is borne here in the face “The bearer knows not, but commends itself “To others' eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 954 7As I before imparted &lblank;] I, which was inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio; but with his usual inaccuracy was inserted in the wrong place. Malone. The second folio reads: “As before I imparted,” &c. As this passage is now pointed, where is the inaccuracy of it? or, if there be any, might it not have happened through the carelessness of the compositor? Steevens.

Note return to page 955 8As willingly, &c.] This is a proverbial saying. See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 956 9&lblank; Quaff'd off the muscadel,] It appears from this passage, and the following one in The History of the Two Maids of Moreclacke, a comedy, by Robert Armin, 1609, that it was the custom to drink wine immediately after the marriage ceremony. Armin's play begins thus: “Enter a Maid strewing flowers, and a serving-man perfuming the door. “Maid. Strew, strew. “Man. The muscadine stays for the bride at church. “The priest and Hymen's ceremonies tend “To make them man and wife.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “&lblank; and when we are at church, bring the wine and cakes.” In Ben Jonson's Magnetic Lady, the wine drank on this occasion is called a “knitting cup.” Again, in No Wit like a Woman's, by Middleton: “Even when my lip touch'd the contracting cup.” There was likewise a flower that borrowed its name from this ceremony: “Bring sweet carnations, and sops in wine, “Worne of paramours.” Hobbinol's Dittie, &c. by Spenser. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “Were the rosemary branches dipp'd, and all “The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off; “Were these two arms encompass'd with the hands “Of bachelors to lead me to the church,” &c. Again, in The Articles ordained by King Henry VII. for the Regulation of his Household: Article—“For the Marriage of a Princess.”—“Then pottes of Ipocrice to bee ready, and to bee putt into the cupps with soppe, and to bee borne to the estates; and to take a soppe and drinke,” &c. Steevens. So, in an old canzonet on a wedding, set to Musick by Morley, 1606: “Sops in wine, spice-cakes are a dealing.” Farmer. The fashion of introducing a bowl of wine into the church at a wedding, to be drank by the bride and bridegroom and persons present, was very anciently a constant ceremony; and, as appears from this passage, not abolished in our author's age. We find it practised at the magnificent marriage of Queen Mary and Philip, in Winchester Cathedral, 1554: “The trumpets sounded, and they both returned to their traverses in the quire, and there remayned untill masse was done: at which tyme, wyne and sopes were hallowed and delyvered to them both.” Leland's Collect. Append. vol. iv. p. 400, edit. 1770. T. Warton. I insert the following quotation merely to show that the custom remained in Shakspeare's time. At the marriage of the Elector Palatine to King James's daughter, the 14th day of February, 1612–13, we are told by one who assisted at the ceremonial: “&lblank; In conclusion, a joy pronounced by the king and queen, and seconded with congratulation of the lords there present, which crowned with draughts of Ippocras out of a great golden bowle, as an health to the prosperity of the marriage, (began by the prince Palatine and answered by the princess.) After which were served up by six or seven barons so many bowles filled with wafers, so much of that work was consummate.” Finet's Philoxenis, 1656, p. 11. Reed. This custom is of very high antiquity; for it subsisted among our Gothic ancestors:—“Ingressus domum convivalem sponsus cum pronubo suo, sumpto poculo, quod maritale vocant, ac paucis a pronubo de mutato vitæ genere prefatis, in signum constantiæ, virtutis, defensionis et tutelæ propinat sponsæ et simul morgennaticam [dotalitium ob virginitatem] promittit, quod ipsa grato animo recolens, pari ratione et modo, paulo post mutato in uxorium habitum operculo capitis, ingressa, poculum, uti nostrates vocant, uxorium leviter delibans, amorem, fidem, diligentiam, et subjectionem promittit.” Stiernhook de Jure Sueonum et Gothorum vetusto, p. 163, quarto, 1672. Malone.

Note return to page 957 1And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, That, at the parting, all the church did echo.] This also is a very ancient custom, as appears from the following rubrick, with which I was furnished by the late Reverend Mr. Bowle: “Surgant ambo, sponsus et sponsa, et accipiat sponsus pacem a sacerdote, et ferat sponsæ, osculans eam, et neminem alium, nec ipse, nec ipsa.” Manuale Sarum, Paris, 1533, 4to. fol. 69. Malone. It appears from the following passage in Marston's Insatiate Countess, that this was also part of the marriage ceremonial: “The kisse thou gav'st me in the church, here take.” Steevens

Note return to page 958 2And I, seeing this, &c.] Seeing, as I have shewn by various instances in the Essay on Shakspeare's metre, was almost always used as a word of one syllable. Sir Thomas Hanmer not attending to this circumstance, rejected the first word in this line, in order to make it, as he supposed, metrical; and his mutilation of the text was adopted too hastily by all the subsequent editors; by the present editor among others, before he had sufficiently considered the subject. Malone.

Note return to page 959 3Let me entreat you.] At the end of this speech, as well as of the next but one, a syllable is wanting to complete the measure. I have no doubt of our poet's having written—in both instances— Let me entreat you stay. Steevens.

Note return to page 960 4&lblank; my horse.] In this and the following speech, the reading of the old copy, horse, has been unnecessarily changed to horses. Horse, in our author's time, was used as a plural. So, in the old Taming of a Shrew: “Feran. Sirra, go and make readie my horse presently. &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “San. Shall I give them another peck of provender. “Feran. Out slave, and bring them presently to the door.” So, in a Commemoration of Sir Philip Sidney, by B. W.: “Some markt his stately horse how they hung down their head, “As if they mourned for their knight that followed after dead.” We still say, a troop of horse. Malone.

Note return to page 961 5&lblank; the oats have aten the horse.] There is still a ludicrous expression used when horses have staid so long in a place as to have eaten more than they are worth—viz. that their heads are too big for the stable-door. I suppose Grumio has some such meaning, though it is more openly expressed, as follows, in the original play: “Enter Ferando and Kate, and Alfonso and Polidor, and Emilia, and Aurelius and Phylema. “Feran. Father, farewel; my Kate and I must home: “Sirrah, go make ready my horse presently. “Alfon. Your horse! what son, I hope you do but jest; “I am sure you will not go so suddainely. “Kate. Let him go or tarry, I am resolv'd to stay; “And not to travel on my wedding day. “Feran. Tut, Kate, I tel thee we must needes go home: “Vilaine, hast thou sadled my horse? “San. Which horse? your curtall? “Feran. Souns you slave, stand you prating here? “Saddle the bay gelding for your mistris. “Kate. Not for me, for I wil not go. “San. The ostler will not let me have him: you owe tenpence “For his meate, and 6 pence for stuffing my mistris saddle. “Feran. Here villaine; goe pay him strait. “San. Shall I give them another pecke of lavender? “Feran. Out slave, and bring them presently to the dore. “Alfon. Why son, I hope at least you'll dine with us. “San. I pray you, master, lets stay til dinner be done. “Feran. Sounes vilaine, art thou here yet? [Exit Sander. “Come, Kate, our dinner is provided at home. “Kate. But not for me, for here I meane to dine: “Ile have my wil in this as wel as you; “Though you in madding mood would leave your frinds, “Despite of you Ile tarry with them still. “Feran. I Kate so thou shalt, but at some other time: “When as thy sisters here shall be espousd, “Then thou and I wil keepe our wedding-day, “In better sort then now we can provide; “For heere I promise thee before them all, “We will ere longe returne to them againe: “Come, Kate, stand not on termes; we will away; “This is my day, to-morrow thou shalt rule, “And I will doe whatever thou commandes. “Gentlemen, farewell, wee'l take our leaves; “It will be late before that we come home. [Exeunt Ferando and Kate. “Pol. Farewell Fernando, since you will be gone. “Alfon. So mad a couple did I never see,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 962 6&lblank; nor till &lblank;] Old copy—not till. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 963 7My houshold stuff, my field, my barn,] This defective verse might be completed by reading, with Hanmer: “She is my houshold-stuff, my field, my barn;” or, “My houshold-stuff, my field, my barn, my stable—.” Steevens.

Note return to page 964 8&lblank; my horse,—my ox, my ass,] Alluding to the tenth commandment: “&lblank; thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house,— nor his ox, nor his ass, &lblank;” Ritson.

Note return to page 965 9&lblank; was ever man so rayed?] That is, was ever man so mark'd with lashes. Johnson. It rather means bewrayed, i. e. made dirty. So, Spenser, speaking of a fountain: “Which she increased with her bleeding heart, “And the clean waves with purple gore did ray.” Again, in b. iii. c. viii. st. 32: “Who whiles the pitieous lady up did rise, “Ruffled and foully ray'd with filthy soil.” Tollet. So, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “Let there be a few rushes laid in the place where Backwinter shall tumble, for fear of raying his clothes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 966 1&lblank; a little pot, and soon hot,] This is a proverbial expression. It is introduced in The Isle of Gulls, 1606: “&lblank; Though I be but a little pot, I shall be as soon hot, as another.” Steevens.

Note return to page 967 2&lblank; fire, fire; cast on no water.] There is an old popular catch of three parts in these words: “Scotland burneth, Scotland burneth. “Fire, fire;—Fire, fire; “Cast on some more water.” Blackstone.

Note return to page 968 3&lblank; winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis, &c.] “Winter, says Grumio, tames man, woman, and beast; for it has tamed my old master, my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.—Away, you three-inch fool, replies Curtis, I am no beast.” Why, asks Dr. Warburton, had Grumio called him one? he alters therefore myself to thyself, and all the editors follow him. But there is no necessity; if Grumio calls himself a beast, and Curtis, fellow; surely he calls Curtis a beast likewise Malvolio takes this sense of the word: “let this fellow be look'd to!—Fellow! not Malvolio, after my degree, but fellow!” In Ben Jonson's Case is Atered: “What says my Fellow Onion?” quoth Christophero,—“All of a house,” replies Onion, “but not fellows.” In the old play, called The Return from Parnassus, we have a curious passage, which shows the opinion of contemporaries concerning the learning of Shakspeare; this use of the word fellow brings it to my remembrance. Burbage and Kempe are introduced to teach the university men the art of acting, and are represented (particularly Kempe) as leaden spouts—very illiterate. “Few of the university (says Kempe) pen plays well; they smell too much of that writer Ovid, and that writer Metaphorphosis:—why here's our Fellow Shakspeare puts them all down.” Farmer. The sentence delivered by Grumio, is proverbial: “Wedding, and ill wintering, tame both man and beast.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 969 4Away, you three-inch fool!] i. e. with a skull three inches thick; a phrase taken from the thicker sort of planks. Warburton. This contemptuous expression alludes to Grumio's diminutive size. He has already mentioned it himself: “Now, were not I a little pot &lblank;.” His answer likewise: “&lblank; and so long am I, at the least,”—shows that this is the meaning, and that Dr. Warburton was mistaken in supposing that these words allude to the thickness of Grumio's skull. Malone.

Note return to page 970 5&lblank; why, thy horn is a foot; and so long am I, at the least.] Though all the copies agree in this reading, Mr. Theobald says, yet he cannot find what horn Curtis had; therefore he alters it to my horn. But the common reading is right, and the meaning is, that he had made Curtis a cuckold. Warburton.

Note return to page 971 6&lblank; Jack by! ho boy!] Is the beginning of an old round in three parts: Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 972 7&lblank; as thou wilt.] Old copy—wilt thou. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 973 8&lblank; their white stockings,] The old copy reads—the white. —Corrected by the editor of the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 974 9&lblank; Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without,] i. e. are the drinking vessels clean, and the maid servants dressed? But the Oxford editor alters it thus: Are the Jacks fair without, and the Jills fair within? What his conceit is in this, I confess I know not. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer's meaning seems to be this: “Are the men who are waiting without the house to receive my master, dressed; and the maids, who are waiting within, dressed too?” I believe the poet meant to play upon the words Jack and Jill, which signify two drinking measures, as well as men and maid servants. The distinction made in the questions concerning them, was owing to this: The Jacks being of leather, could not be made to appear beautiful on the outside, but were very apt to contract foulness within; whereas, the Jills, being of metal, were expected to be kept bright externally, and were not liable to dirt on the inside, like the leather. The quibble on the former of these words I find in The Atheist's Tragedy, by C. Tourner, 1611: “&lblank; have you drunk yourselves mad? “1. Ser. My lord, the Jacks abus'd me. “D'Am. I think they are Jacks indeed that have abus'd thee.” Again, in the Puritan, 1607: “I owe money to several hostesses, and you know such jills will quickly be upon a man's jack.” In this last instance, the allusion to drinking measures is evident. Steevens.

Note return to page 975 1&lblank; the carpets laid,] In our author's time it was customary to cover tables with carpets. Floors, as appears from the present passage and others, were strewed with rushes. Malone.

Note return to page 976 2&lblank; I pray thee, news?] I believe the author wrote—I pray, thy news. Malone.

Note return to page 977 3This is &lblank;] Old copy—This 'tis &lblank;. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 978 4&lblank; on one horse?] The old copy reads—of one horse? Steevens.

Note return to page 979 5&lblank; bemoiled;] i. e. be-draggled; bemired. Steevens.

Note return to page 980 6&lblank; how he swore; how she prayed—that never prayed before;] These lines, with little variation, are found in the old copy of King Leir, published before that of Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 981 7&lblank; was burst:] i. e. broken. So, in the first scene of this play: “You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?” Steevens.

Note return to page 982 8&lblank; he is more shrew than she.] The term shrew was anciently applicable to either sex. Thus, in the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 66: “Lest that lurdeynes come skulkynge oute “For ever they have bene shrewes, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 983 9&lblank; their blue coats brushed,] The dress of servants at the time. So, in Decker's Belman's Night Walkes, sig. E 3: “&lblank; the other act their parts in blew coates, as they were their serving men, though indeed they be all fellowes.” Again, in The Curtain Drawer of the World, 1612, p. 2: “Not a serving man dare appeare in a blew coat, not because it is the livery of charity, but lest he should be thought a retainer to their enemy.” Reed.

Note return to page 984 1&lblank; garters of an indifferent knit:] What is the sense of this, I know not, unless it means, that their garters should be fellows; indifferent, or not different, one from the other. Johnson. This is rightly explained. So, in Hamlet: “As the indifferent children of the earth.” Again, in King Richard II.: “Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye.” i. e. an impartial one. In Donne's Paradoxes, p. 56, Dr. Farmer observes, that we find “one indifferent shoe;” meaning, I suppose, a shoe that would fit either the right or left foot. So, in Reynold's God's Revenge Against Murder, b. v. hist. 22: “Their sister Ceciliana (aged of some twenty years,) was of an indifferent height, but growing to corpulency and fatness.” Steevens. Perhaps by “garters of an indifferent knit,” the author meant parti-coloured garters; garters of a different knit. In Shakspeare's time indifferent was sometimes used for different. Thus Speed, (Hist. of Gr. Brit. p. 770,) describing the French and English armies at the battle of Agincourt, says, “&lblank; the face of these hoasts were diverse and indifferent.” That garters of a different knit were formerly worn appears from &grT;&grE;&grX;&grN;&grO;&grG;&grA;&grM;&grI;&grA;, or The Marriage of the Arts, by Barton Holyday, 1630, where the following stage direction occurs: “Phantastes in a branched velvet jerkin,—red silk stockings, and parti-coloured garters” Malone.

Note return to page 985 2All things is ready:] Though in general it is proper to correct the false concords that are found in almost every page of the old copy, here it would be improper; because the language suits the character. Malone.

Note return to page 986 3Enter Petruchio, &c.] Thus, the original play: “Enter Ferando and Kate. “Ferand. Now welcome Kate. Wheres these villaines, “Heere? what, not supper yet upon the boord! “Nor table spread, nor nothing done at all! “Where's that villaine that I sent before? “San. Now, adsum, sir. “Feran. Come hither you villaine; Ile cut your nose “You rogue: help me off with my bootes: wil't please “You to lay the cloth? Sowns the villaine “Hurts my foote: pull easily I say: yet againe? [He beats them all. They cover the boord, and fetch in the meate. “Sowns, burnt and scorch't! who drest this meate? “Will. Forsooth, John Cooke. [He throwes down the table and meate, and all, and beates them all. “Feran. Goe, you villaines; bring me such meate? “Out of my sight, I say, and bear it hence. “Come, Kate, wee'l have other meate provided: “Is there a fire in my chamber, sir? “San. I, forsooth. [Exeunt Ferando and Kate. “Manent serving men, and eate up all the meate. “Tom. Sownes, I thinke of my conscience my master's madde since he was married. “Will. I laft what a box he gave Sander “For pulling off his bootes? “Enter Ferando again. “San. I hurt his foot for the nonce, man. “Feran. Did you so, you damned villaine? [He beates them all out again. “This humour must I hold to me a while, “To bridle and holde back my head-strong wife, “With curbes of hunger, ease, and want of sleepe: “Nor sleep nor meate shall she enjoy to-night; “Ile mew her up as men do mew their hawkes, “And make her gently come unto the lewre: “Were she as stubborne, or as full of strength “As was the Thracian horse Alcides tamde, “That king Egeus fed with flesh of men, “Yet would I pull her downe and make her come, “As hungry hawkes do flie unto their lewre.” [Exit. Steevens.

Note return to page 987 4&lblank; at door,] Door is here, and in other places, used as a dissyllable. Malone.

Note return to page 988 5&lblank; no link to colour Peter's hat,] A link is a torch of pitch. Greene, in his Mihil Mumchance, says—“This cozenage is used likewise in selling old hats found upon dung-hills, instead of newe, black over with the smoake of an old linke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 989 6Where, &c.] A scrap of some old ballad. Ancient Pistol elsewhere quotes the same line. In an old black letter book intituled, A gorgious Gallery of gallant Inventions, London, 1578, 4to. is a song to the tune of Where is the life that late I led. Ritson. This ballad was peculiarly suited to Petruchio's present situation: for it appears to have been descriptive of the state of a lover who had newly resigned his freedom. In an old collection of Sonnets, entitled A Handeful of Pleasant Delites, containing sundrie new Sonets, &c. by Clement Robinson, 1584, is “Dame Beautie's replie to the lover late at libertie, and now complaineth himselfe to be her captive, initituled, Where is the life that late I led: “The life that erst thou led'st, my friend, “Was pleasant to thine eyes,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 990 7Soud, soud, &c.] That is, sweet, sweet. Soot, and sometimes sooth, is sweet. So, in Milton, to sing soothly, is to sing sweetly. Johnson. So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “He'll hang handsome young men for the soote sinne of love.” Steevens. These words seem merely intended to denote the humming of a tune, or some kind of ejaculation, for which it is not necessary to find out a meaning. M. Mason. This, I believe, is a word coined by our poet, to express the noise made by a person heated and fatigued. Malone.

Note return to page 991 8It was the friar of orders grey,] Dispersed through Shakspeare's plays are many little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which cannot now be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity, Dr. Percy has selected some of them, and connected them together with a few supplemental stanzas; a work, which at once demonstrates his own poetical abilities, as well as his respect to the truly venerable remains of our most ancient bards. Steevens.

Note return to page 992 9Out, out, you rogue!] The second word was inserted by Mr. Pope, to complete the metre. When a word occurs twice in the same line, the compositor very frequently omits one of them. Malone.

Note return to page 993 1And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:] This cousin Ferdinand, who does not make his personal appearance on the scene, is mentioned, I suppose, for no other reason than to give Katharine a hint, that he could keep even his own relations in order, and make them obedient as his spaniel Troilus. Steevens.

Note return to page 994 2Come, Kate, and wash,] It was the custom in our author's time, (and long before,) to wash the hands immediately before dinner and supper, as well as afterwards. So, in Ives's Select Papers, p. 139: “And after that the Queen [Elizabeth, the wife of King Henry VII.] was retourned and washed, the Archbishop said grace.” Again, in Florio's Second Frutes, 1591: “C. The meate is coming, let us sit downe. S. I would wash first.— What ho, bring us some water to wash our hands.—Give me a faire, cleane and white towel.” From the same dialogue it appears that it was customary to wash after meals likewise, and that setting the water on the table was then (as at present) peculiar to Great Britain and Ireland: “Bring some water (says one of the company,) when dinner is ended, to wash our hands, and set the bacin upon the board, after the English fashion, that all may wash.” That it was the practice to wash the hands immediately before supper, as well as before dinner, is ascertained by the following passage in The Fountayne of Fame, erected in an Orcharde of amorous Adventures, by Anthony Mundy, 1580: Then was our supper brought up very orderly, and she brought me water to washe my handes. And after I had washed, I sat downe, and she also; but concerning what good cheere we had, I need not make good report.” Malone. As our ancestors eat with their fingers, which might not be over-clean before meals, and after them must be greasy, we cannot wonder at such repeated ablutions. Steevens.

Note return to page 995 3&lblank; full-gorg'd, &c.] A hawk too much fed was never tractable. So, in The Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: “And like a hooded hawk, gorg'd with vain pleasures, “At random flies, and wots not where he is.” Again, in The Booke of Haukyng, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; ye shall say your hauke is full-gorg'd, and not cropped.” The lure was only a thing stuffed like that kind of bird which the hawk was designed to pursue. The use of the lure was to tempt him back after he had flown. Steevens.

Note return to page 996 4&lblank; to man my haggard,] A haggard is a wild-hawk; to man a hawk is to tame her. Johnson.

Note return to page 997 5&lblank; watch her, as we watch these kites,] Thus, in the same book of Hankyng, &c. bl. l. commonly called, The Book of St. Albans: “And then the same night after the teding, wake her all night, and on the morrowe all day.” Again, in The Lady Errant, by Cartwright: “We'll keep you as they do hawks; watching you until you leave your wildness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 998 6That bate,] i. e. flutter. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “Bated like eagles having lately bath'd.” Steevens. To bate is to flutter as a hawk does when it swoops upon its prey. Minsheu supposes it to be derived either from batre, Fr. to beat, or from s'abatre, to descend. Malone.

Note return to page 999 7&lblank; amid this hurly, I intend,] Intend is sometimes used by our author for pretend, and is, I believe, so used here. So, in King Richard III.: “Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, “Intending deep suspicion.” Malone.

Note return to page 1000 8Scene II. Padua, &c.] This scene, Mr. Pope, upon what authority I cannot pretend to guess, has in his editions made the first of the fifth Act: in doing which, he has shown the very power and force of criticism. The consequence of this judicious regulation is, that two unpardonable absurdities are fixed upon the author, which he could not possibly have committed. For, in the first place, by this shuffling the scenes out of their true position, we find Hortensio, in the fourth Act, already gone from Baptista's to Petruchio's country-house; and afterwards in the beginning of the fifth Act we find him first forming the resolution of quitting Bianca; and Tranio immediately informs us, he is gone to the Taming-school to Petruchio. There is a figure, indeed, in rhetorick, called &grura;&grs;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn; &grp;&grr;&groa;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn;, but this is an abuse of it, which the rhetoricians will never adopt upon Mr. Pope's authority. Again, by this misplacing, the Pedant makes his first entrance, and quits the stage with Tranio, in order to go and dress himself like Vincentio, whom he was to personate: but his second entrance is upon the very heels of his exit; and without any interval of an Act, or one word intervening, he comes out again equipped like Vincentio. If such a critic be fit to publish a stage-writer, I shall not envy Mr. Pope's admirers, if they should think fit to applaud his sagacity. I have replaced the scenes in that order in which I found them in the old books. Theobald.

Note return to page 1001 9&lblank; that Bianca &lblank;] Mr. Steevens omits mistress as redundant, but the metre is as good here as in the next page: “You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca “Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1002 1Quick proceeders, marry!] Perhaps here an equivoque was intended. To proceed Master of Arts, &c. is the academical term. Malone.

Note return to page 1003 2Lov'd none &lblank;] Old copy—Lov'd me.—Mr. Rowe made this necessary correction. Malone.

Note return to page 1004 3&lblank; cullion:] A term of degradation, with no very decided meaning; a despicable fellow, a fool, &c. So, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, bl. l.: “It is an old saying Praise at parting. “I think I have made the cullion to wring.” Steevens. “Coglione,” says Florio, “a cuglion, a gull, a meacock.” Malone.

Note return to page 1005 4That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.] The old copy reads —them withal. The emendation was made by the editor of the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1006 5Ay, and he'll tame her, &c.] Thus, in the original play: “&lblank; he means to tame his wife ere long. “Val. Hee saies so. “Aurel. Faith he's gon unto the taming-schoole. “Val. The taming-schoole! why is there such a place? “Aurel. I; and Ferando is the maister of the schoole.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1007 6&lblank; charm her chattering tongue.] So, in King Henry VI. Part III: “Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1008 7An ancient angel &lblank;] For angel Mr. Theobald, and after him Sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Warburton, read engle. Johnson. It is true that the word enghle, which Sir T. Hanmer calls a gull, (deriving it from engluer, Fr. to catch with bird-lime,) is sometimes used by Ben Jonson. It cannot, however, bear that meaning at present, as Biondello confesses his ignorance of the quality of the person who is afterwards persuaded to represent the father of Lucentio. The precise meaning of it is not ascertained in Jonson, neither is the word to be found in any of the original copies of Shakspeare. I have also reason to suppose that the true import of the word enghle is such as can have no connection with this passage, and will not bear explanation. Angel primitively signifies a messenger, but perhaps this sense is inapplicable to the passage before us. So, Ben Jonson, in The Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; the dear good angel of the spring, “The nightingale &lblank;.” And Chapman, in his translation of Homer, always calls a messenger an angel. See particularly b. xxiv. In The Scornful Lady of Beaumont and Fletcher, an old usurer is indeed called: “&lblank; old angel of gold.” It is possible however, that instead of ancient angel, our author might have written—angel-merchant, one whose business it was to negociate money. He is afterwards called a mercatantè, and professes himself to be one who has bills of exchange about him. Steevens. Mr. Gifford, in a note on Jonson's Poetaster, is decidedly in favour of enghle, with Hanmer's explanation, and has supported it by referring us to Gascoigne's Supposes, from which Shakspeare (as he remarks) took this part of his plot: “There Erostrato, the Biondello of Shakspeare, looks out for a person to gull by an idle story, judges, from appearances, that he has found him, and is not deceived:” “At the foot of the hill I met a gentleman, and as methought by his habit and his looks, he should be none of the wisest.” Again, “This gentleman being, as I guessed at the first, a man of small sapientia;” and Dulippo (the Lucentio of Shakspeare,) as soon as he spies him coming, exclaims, “Is this he? go meet him: by my troth, he looks like a good soul; he that fisheth for him might be sure to catch a codshead.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1009 8Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,] The old editions read marcantant. The Italian word mercatantè is frequently used in the old plays for a merchant, and therefore I have made no scruple of placing it here. The modern editors, who printed the word as they found it spelt in the folio, were obliged to supply a syllable to make out the verse, which the Italian pronunciation renders unnecessary. A pedant was the common name for a teacher of languages. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “He loves to have a fencer, a pedant, and a musician, seen in his lodgings.” Steevens. “Mercatantè.” So, Spenser, in the third Book of his Fairy Queen: “Sleeves dependant Albanesè wise.” And our author has Veronesè in his Othello. Farmer. “&lblank; pedant,” Charron, the sage Charron, as Pope calls him, describes a pedant, as synonymous to a household schoolmaster, and adds a general character of the fraternity by no means to their advantage. See Charron on Wisdom, 4to. 1640: Lennard's Translation, p. 158. Reed.

Note return to page 1010 9&lblank; surely like a father.] I know not what he is, says the speaker; however, this is certain, he has the gait and countenance of a fatherly man. Warburton. The editor of the second folio reads—surly, which Mr. Theobald adopted, and has quoted the following lines, addressed by Tranio to the Pedant, in support of the emendation: “'Tis well; and hold your own in any case, “With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.” Malone.

Note return to page 1011 1Take in your love, and then let me alone.] The old copies exhibit this line as follows, disjoining it from its predecessors: “Par. Take me your love, and then let me alone.” Steevens. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 1012 2'Tis death for any one in Mantua, &c.] So, in The Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; if any Syracusan born “Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1013 3Pisa, renowned for grave citizens.] This line has been already used by Lucentio. See Act I. Sc. I. Ritson.

Note return to page 1014 4To pass assurance &lblank;] To pass assurance means to make a conveyance or deed. Deeds are by law-writers called, “The common assurances of the realm,” because thereby each man's property is assured to him. So, in a subsequent scene of this Act: “&lblank; they are busied about a counterfeit assurance.” Malone.

Note return to page 1015 5Go with me, sir, &c.] Thus the second folio. The first omits the word—sir. Steevens. “Go with me, &c.” There is an old comedy called Supposes, translated from Ariosto, by George Gascoigne. Thence Shakspeare borrowed this part of the plot, (as well as some of the phraseology,) though Theobald pronounces it his own invention. There, likewise, he found the quaint name of Petruchio. My young master and his man exchange habits, and persuade a Scenæse, as he is called, to personate the father, exactly as in this play, by the pretended danger of his coming from Sienna to Ferrara, contrary to the order of the government. Farmer. In the same play our author likewise found the name of Licio. Malone.

Note return to page 1016 6Enter Katharina and Grumio.] Thus the original play: “Enter Sander and his mistris. “San. Come, mistris. “Kate. Sander, I prethee helpe me to some meat; “I am so faint that I can scarcely stand. “San. I marry mistris: but you know my maister “Has given me a charge that you must eat nothing, “But that which he himself giveth you. “Kate. Why man, thy master needs never know it. “San. You say true, indeed. Why looke you, mistris; “What say you to a pece of bieffe and mustard now? “Kate. Why, I say, 'tis excellent meat; canst thou helpe me to some? “San. I, I could helpe you to some, but that I doubt “The mustard is too chollerick for you. “But what say you to a sheepes head and garlike? “Kate. Why anything; I care not what it be. “San. I, but the garlicke I doubt will make your breath stincke: and then my master will course me for letting you eate it. But what say you to a fat capon? “Kate. That's meat for a king; sweet Sander help me to some of it. “San. Nay, berlady, then 'tis too deere for us; we must not meddle with the king's meate. “Kate. Out villaine! dost thou mocke me? “Take that for thy sawsinesse. [She beates him. “San. Sounes are you so light-fingred, with a murrin; “Ile keepe you fasting for it these two daies. “Kate. I tell thee villaine, Ile tear the flesh off “Thy face and eate it, and thou prate to me thus. “San. Here comes my master now: heele course you. “Enter Ferando with a piece of meate upon his dagger point, and Polidor with him. “Feran. See here, Kate, I have provided meat for thee: “Here, take it: what, is't not worthy thanks? “Go, sirha, take it away againe, you shall be “Thankful for the next you have. “Kate. Why, I thanke you for it. “Feran. Nay, now 'tis not worth a pin: go, sirha, and take it hence, I say. “San. Yes, sir, Ile carrie it hence: Master, let hir “Have none; for she can fight, as hungry as she is. “Pol. I pray you, sir, let it stand; for ile eat “Some with her myselfe. “Feran. Well, sirha, set it downe againe. “Kate. Nay, nay, I pray you, let him take it hence, “And keepe it for your own diet, for ile none; “Ile nere be beholding to you for your meat: “I tel thee flatly here unto thy teeth, “Thou shalt not keepe me nor feed me as thou list, “For I will home againe unto my father's house. “Feran. I, when y'are meeke and gentle, but not before: “I know your stomache is not yet come downe, “Therefore no marvel thou canst not eat: “And I will go unto your father's house. “Come Polidor, let us go in againe; “And Kate come in with us: I know, ere long, “That thou and I shall lovingly agree.” The circumstance of Ferando bringing meat to Katharine on the point of his dagger, is a ridicule on Marlowe's Tamburline, who treats Bajazet in the same manner. Steevens.

Note return to page 1017 7I fear, it is too cholerick a meat;] So, before: “And I expressly am forbid to touch it; “For it engenders choler.” The editor of the second folio arbitrarily reads—too phlegmatick a meat; which has been adopted by all the subsequent editors. Malone. Though I have not displaced the oldest reading, that of the second folio may be right. It prevents the repetition of cholerick, and preserves its meaning; for phlegmatick, irregularly derived from &grf;&grl;&gre;&grg;&grm;&gro;&grn;&grhg;, might anciently have been a word in physical use, signifying inflammatory, as phlegmonous is at present. Steevens.

Note return to page 1018 8Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.] This is agreeable to the doctrine of the times. In The Glass of Humours, no date, p. 60, it is said, “But note here, that the first diet is not only in avoiding superfluity of meats, and surfeits of drinks, but also in eschewing such as are most obnoxious, and least agreeable with our happy temperate state; as for a cholerick man to abstain from all salt, scorched, dry meats, from mustard, and such like things as will aggravate his malignant humours,” &c. So Petruchio before objects to the over-roasted mutton. Reed.

Note return to page 1019 9&lblank; What, sweeting, all amort?] This gallicism is common to many of the old plays. So, in Wily Beguiled: “Why how now, Sophos, all amort?” Again, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “What all amort! What's the matter?” Steevens. That is, all sunk and dispirited. Malone.

Note return to page 1020 1And all my pains is sorted to no proof:] And all my labour has ended in nothing, or proved nothing. “We tried an experiment, but it sorted not.” Bacon. Johnson.

Note return to page 1021 2&lblank; farthingales, and things;] Though things is a poor word, yet I have no better, and perhaps the author had not another that would rhyme. I once thought to transpose the word rings and things, but it would make little improvement. Johnson. However poor the word, the poet must be answerable for it, as he had used it before, Act II. Sc. V.: when the rhyme did not force it upon him: “We will have rings and things, and fine array.” Again, in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1632: “'Tis true that I am poor, and yet have things, “And golden rings,” &c. A thing is a trifle too inconsiderable to deserve a particular discrimination. Steevens.

Note return to page 1022 3&lblank; with his ruffling treasure.] This is the reading of the old copy, which Mr. Pope changed to rustling, I think, without necessity. Our author has indeed in another play—“Prouder than rustling, in unpaid for silk;” but ruffling is sometimes used in nearly the same sense. Thus, in King Lear: “&lblank; the bleak winds “Do sorely ruffle.” There clearly the idea of noise as well as turbulence is annexed to the word. A ruffler in our author's time signified a noisy and turbulent swaggerer; and the word ruffling is here applied in a kindred sense to dress. So, in King Henry VI. P. II.: “And his proud wife, high-minded Eleanor, “That ruffles it with such a troop of ladies, “As strangers in the court take her for queen.” Again, more appositely, in Camden's Remaines, 1605: “There there was a nobleman merrily conceited and riotously given, that having lately solde a manor of a hundred tenements, came ruffling into the court in a new sute, saying, Am not I a mightie man that beare an hundred houses on my backe.” Boyle speaks of the ruffling of silk; and ruffled is used by so late an author as Addison in the sense of plaited; in which last signification perhaps the word ruffling should be understood here. Petruchio has just before told Katharine that she “should revel it with ruffs and cuffs;” from the former of which words, ruffled, in the sense of plaited, seems to be derived. As ruffling therefore may be understood either in this sense, or that first suggested, (which I incline to think the true one,) I have adhered to the reading of the old copy. To the examples already given in support of the reading of the old copy, may be added this very apposite one from Lyly's Euphues and his England, 1580: “Shall I ruffle in new devices, with chains, with bracelets, with rings, with roabes?” Again, in Drayton's Battaile of Agincourt, 1627: “With ruffling banners, that do brave the sky.” Malone.

Note return to page 1023 4Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;] In our poet's time, women's gowns were usually made by men. So, in the Epistle to the Ladies, prefixed to Euphues and his England, by John Lyly, 1580: “If a taylor make your gown too little, you cover his fault with a broad stomacher; if too great, with a number of pleights; if too short, with a fair guard; if too long, with a false gathering.” Malone.

Note return to page 1024 5Enter Haberdasher.] Thus, in the original play: “San. Master, the haberdasher has brought my mistris home hir cap here. “Feran. Come hither, sirha: what have you there? “Haber. A velvet cap, sir, and it please you. “Feran. Who spoke for it? Didst thou, Kate? “Kate. What if I did? Come hither, sirha, give me the cap; ile see if it will fit me. [She sets it on her head. “Feran. O monstrous! why it becomes thee not. “Let me see it, Kate: here, sirha, take it hence; “This cap is out of fashion quite. “Kate. The fashion is good inough: belike you mean to make a fool of me. “Feran. Why true, he means to make a foole of thee, “To have thee put on such a curtald cap: “Sirha, begone with it. “Enter the Taylor, with a gowne. “San. Here is the Taylor too with my mistris gowne. “Feran. Let me see it, Taylor: What, with cuts and jags? “Sounes, thou villaine, thou hast spoil'd the gowne. “Taylor. Why, sir, I made it as your man gave me direction; “You may read the note here. “Feran. Come hither, sirha: Taylor, read the note. “Taylor. Item, a faire round compass'd cape. “San. I, that's true. “Taylor. And a large truncke sleeve. “San. That's a lie maister; I said two truncke sleeves. “Feran. Well, sir, go forward. “Taylor. Item, a loose-bodied gowne. “San. Maister, if ever I said loose bodies gowne, “Sew me in a seame, and beat me to death “With a bottom of browne thred. “Taylor. I made it as the note bade me. “San. I say the note lies in his throate, and thou too, an thou sayest it. “Taylor. Nay, nay, ne'er be so hot, sirha, for I feare you not. “San. Doost thou heare, Tailor? thou hast braved many men: “Brave me not. Th'ast fac'd many men. “Taylor. Wel, sir. “San. Face not me: I'le neither be fac'd, nor braved, at thy hands, I can tell thee. “Kate. Come, come, I like the fashion of it well inough; “Heere's more adoe than needes; I'le have it, I; “And if you doe not like it, hide your eies: “I thinke I shall have nothing by your will. “Feran. Go, I say, and take it up for your maister's use! “San. Souns villaine, not for thy life; touch it not: “Souns, take up my mistris gowne to his maister's use! “Feran. Well, sir, what's your conceit of it? “San. I have a deeper conceit in it than you think for. Take up my mistris gowne to his maister's use! “Feran. Taylor, come hither; for this time make it: “Hence againe, and Ile content thee for thy paines. “Taylor. I thanke you, sir. [Exit Tailer. “Feran. Come, Kate, wee now will go see thy father's house, “Even in these honest meane abiliments: “Our purses shall be rich, our garments plaine, “To shrowd our bodies from the winter rage; “And that's inough, what should we care for more? “Thy sisters, Kate, to-morrow must be wed, “And I have promised them thou should'st be there: “The morning is well up; let's haste away; “It will be nine a clocke ere we come there. “Kate. Nine a clocke! why 'tis already past two in the afternoon, by al the clockes in the towne. “Feran. I say 'tis but nine a clocke in the morning. “Kate. I say 'tis two a clocke in the afternoone. “Feran. It shall be nine then ere you go to your fathers: “Come backe againe; we will not go to day: “Nothing but crossing me stil? “Ile have you say as I doe, ere I goe. [Exeunt omnes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1025 6&lblank; on a porringer;] The same thought occurs in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1026 7Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak, &c.] Shakspeare has here copied nature with great skill. Petruchio, by frightening, starving and overwatching his wife, had tamed her into gentleness and submission. And the audience expects to hear no more of the shrew: when on her being crossed, in the article of fashion and finery, the most inveterate folly of the sex, she flies out again, though for the last time, into all the intemperate rage of her nature. Warburton.

Note return to page 1027 8A custard-coffin,] A coffin was the ancient culinary term for the raised crust of a pie or custard. So, in Ben Jonson's Staple of News: “&lblank; if you spend “The red deer pies in your house, or sell them forth, sir, “Cast so, that I may have their coffins all “Return'd,” &c. Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gypsies Metamorphosed: “And coffin'd in crust 'till now she was hoary.” Ben Jonson, in his Bartholomew Fair, has a similar term for a woman's cap: “&lblank; for all her velvet custard on her head.” Steevens. Again, in a receipt to bake lampreys. MS. Book of Cookery, Temp. Hen. 6: “&lblank; and then cover the coffyn, but save a litell hole to blow into the coffyn, with thy mouth, a gode blast; and sodenly stoppe, that the wynde abyde withynne to ryse up the coffyn that it falle nott down.” Douce.

Note return to page 1028 9&lblank; censer &lblank;] Censers in barber's shops are now disused, but they may easily be imagined to have been vessels which, for the emission of the smoke, were cut with great number and varieties of interstices. Johnson. In King Henry VI. P. II. Doll calls the beadle “thou thin man in a censer.” Malone. I learn from an ancient print, that these censers resembled in shape our modern brasieres. They had pierced convex covers, and stood on feet. They not only served to sweeten a barber's shop, but to keep his water warm, and dry his cloths on. See note on King Henry IV. P. II. Act V. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 1029 1Thou thread, thou thimble,] We should only read: O monstrous arrogance! thou liest, thou thimble. He calls him afterwards—a skein of thread. Ritson. The tailor's trade, having an appearance of effeminacy, has always been, among the rugged English, liable to sarcasms and contempt. Johnson.

Note return to page 1030 2&lblank; be-mete &lblank;] i. e. be-measure thee. Steevens.

Note return to page 1031 3&lblank; faced many things.] i. e. turned up many gowns, &c. with facings, &c. So, in King Henry IV.: “To face the garment of rebellion “With some fine colour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1032 4&lblank; braved many men;] i. e. made many men fine. Bravery was the ancient term for elegance of dress. Steevens.

Note return to page 1033 5&lblank; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces:] This scene appears to have been borrowed from a story of Sir Philip Caulthrop, and John Drakes, a silly shoemaker of Norwich, which is related in Leigh's Accidence of Armorie, and in Camden's Remaines. Douce.

Note return to page 1034 6&lblank; loose-bodied gown,] I think the joke is impaired, unless we read with the original play already quoted—a loose body's gown. It appears, however, that loose-bodied gowns were the dress of harlots. Thus, in The Michaelmas Term, by Middleton, 1607: “Dost dream of virginity now? remember a loose-bodied gown, wench, and let it go.” Steevens. See Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 479, edit. 1780. Reed.

Note return to page 1035 7&lblank; a small compassed cape;] A compassed cape is a round cape. To compass is to come round. Johnson. Thus in Troilus and Cressida, a circular bow window is called —a compassed window. Stubbs, in his Anatomy of Abuses, 1565, gives a most elaborate description of the gowns of women; and adds, “Some have capes reaching down to the midst of their backs, faced with velvet, or else with some fine wrought taffata, at the least, fringed about, very bravely.” Steevens. So, in the Register of Mr. Henslowe, proprietor of the Rose Theatre, (a manuscript of which an account has been given before): “3 of June 1594. Lent, upon a womanes gowne of villet in grayne, with a velvet cape imbroidered with bugelles, for xxxvi s.” Malone.

Note return to page 1036 8&lblank; take thou the bill,] The same quibble between the written bill, and bill the ancient weapon carried by foot-soldiers, is to be met with in Timon of Athens. Steevens.

Note return to page 1037 9&lblank; thy mete-yard,] i. e. thy measuring-yard. So, in The Miseries of Inforc'd Marriage, 1607: “Be not a bar between us, or my sword “Shall mete thy grave out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1038 1Exeunt.] After this exeunt, the characters before whom the play is supposed to be exhibited, have been hitherto introduced from the original so often mentioned in the former notes. “Lord. Who's within there? “Enter Servants. “Asleep again! go take him easily up, and put him in his own apparel again. But see you wake him not in any case. “Serv. It shall be done, my lord; come help to bear him hence. [They bear off Sly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1039 2I cannot but think that the direction about the Tinker, who is always introduced at the end of the Acts, together with the change of the scene, and the proportion of each Act to the rest, make it probable that the fifth Act begins here. Johnson.

Note return to page 1040 3Sir, this is the house;] The old copy has—Sirs, Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 1041 4&lblank; but I be deceived,] But, in the present instance, signifies, without, unless. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “But being charg'd, we will be still by land.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1042 5We were lodgers at the Pegasus.] This line has in all the editions hitherto been given to Tranio. But Tranio could with no propriety speak this, either in his assumed or real character. Lucentio was too young to know any thing of lodging with his father, twenty years before at Genoa: and Tranio must be as much too young, or very unfit to represent and personate Lucentio. I have ventured to place the line to the Pedant, to whom it must certainly belong, and is a sequel of what he was before saying. Theobald. Shakspeare has taken a sign out of London, and hung it up in Padua: “Meet me an hour hence at the sign of the Pegasus in Cheapside.” Return from Parnassus, 1606. Again, in The Jealous Lovers, by Randolph, 1632: “A pottle of elixir at the Pegasus, “Bravely carous'd, is more restorative.” The Pegasus is the arms of the Middle-Temple; and, from that circumstance, became a popular sign. Steevens.

Note return to page 1043 6Enter Baptista and Lucentio.] And (according to the old copy,) Pedant, booted and bareheaded. Ritson.

Note return to page 1044 7Me shall you find most ready and most willing &lblank;] The repeated word most, is not in the old copy, but was supplied by Sir T. Hanmer, to complete the measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 1045 8For curious I cannot be with you,] Curious is scrupulous. So, in Holinshed, p. 888: “The emperor obeying more compassion than the reason of things, was not curious to condescend to performe so good an office.” Again, p. 890: “&lblank; and was not curious to call him to eat with him at his table.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1046 9And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,] To pass is, in this place, synonymous to assure or convey; as it sometimes occurs in the covenant of a purchase deed, that the granter has power to bargain, sell, &c. “and thereby to pass and convey” the premises to the grantee. Ritson.

Note return to page 1047 1The match is fully made, and all is done:] The word—fully (to complete the verse) was inserted by Sir Thomas Hanmer, who might have justified his emendation by a foregoing passage in this comedy: “Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1048 2We be affied;] i. e. betrothed. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “For daring to affy a mighty lord “Unto the daughter of a worthless king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1049 3And, happily, we might be interrupted.] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope reads: “And haply then we might be interrupted.” Steevens. Happily, in Shakspeare's time, signified accidentally, as well as fortunately. It is rather surprising, that an editor should be guilty of so gross a corruption of his author's language, for the sake of modernizing his orthography. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1050 4&lblank; an it like you, sir:] The latter word, which is not in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1051 5Luc. I pray, &c.] In the old copy this line is by mistake given to Biondello. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1052 6Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.] Here the old copy adds—Enter Peter. Ritson. “&lblank; get thee gone.” It seems odd management to make Lucentio go out here for nothing that appears, but that he may return again five lines lower. It would be better, I think, to suppose that he lingers upon the stage, till the rest are gone, in order to talk with Biondello in private. Tyrwhitt. I have availed myself of the regulation proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Steevens.

Note return to page 1053 7&lblank; or moral &lblank;] i. e. the secret purpose. See Much Ado About Nothing, Act III. Sc. IV. Malone.

Note return to page 1054 8I cannot tell; expect—] The first folio reads—expect. Malone. Except is the reading of the second folio. Expect, says Mr. Malone, means—wait the event. Steevens.

Note return to page 1055 9&lblank; cum privilegio ad imprimendum solùm:] It is scarce necessary to observe, that these are the words which commonly were put on books where an exclusive right had been granted to particular persons for printing them. Reed.

Note return to page 1056 1&lblank; to the church;] i. e. go to the church, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1057 2Exit.] Here, in the original play, the Tinker speaks again, and the scene continues thus: “Slie. Sim, must they be married now? “Lord. I, my lord. “Enter Ferando, and Kate, and Sander. “Slie. Looke, Sim, the foole is come againe now. “Feran. Sirha, go fetch our horses forth; and bring them to the backe-gate presently. “San. I will, sir, I warrant you. [Exit Sander. “Feran. Come, Kate: the moone shines cleere-to-night, methinkes. “Kate. The moone; why husband you are deceiv'd; it is the sun. “Feran. Yet againe? come backe againe; it shall be the moone ere we come at your fathers. “Kate. Why Ile say as you ay; it is the moone. “Feran. Iesus, save the glorious moone! “Kate. Iesus, save the glorious moone! “Feran. I am glad, Kate, your stomache is come downe; “I know it well thou knowst it is the sun, “But I did trie to see if thou wouldst speake, “And crosse me now as thou hast done before; “And trust me, Kate, hadst thou not namde the moone, “We had gone backe againe as sure as death. “But soft, who's this that's coming here? “Enter the Duke of Cestus alone. “Duke. Thus al alone from Cestus am I come, “And left my princely court, and noble traine, “To come to Athens, and in this disguise “To see what course my son Aurelius takes. “But stay; here's some it may be travels thither: “Good sir, can you direct me the way to Athens? [Ferando speaks to the old man.” His [the Duke's] speech is very partially and incorrectly quoted by Mr. Pope in p. 498. Steevens. I have pointed out where he has varied from the old copy. Boswell.

Note return to page 1058 3I know it is. &lblank;] The old copy redundantly reads—I know it is the moon. Steevens. The humour of this scene bears a very striking resemblance to what Mons. Bernier tells us of the Mogul Omrahs, who continually bear in mind the Persian Proverb: “If the King saith at noon-day it is night, you are to behold the moon and the stars.” History of The Mogul Empire, vol. iv. p. 45. Douce.

Note return to page 1059 4&lblank; it is the blessed sun;] For is the old copy has in. Corrected in the second folio.

Note return to page 1060 5And so, it shall be so,] A modern editor very plausibly reads: And so it shall be, Sir. Malone. Read: “And so it shall be still, for Katharine. Ritson.

Note return to page 1061 6But soft; what company is coming here?] The pronoun— what, which is wanting in the old copy, I have inserted by the advice of Mr. Ritson, whose punctuation and supplement are countenanced by the corresponding passage in the elder play: “But soft; who's this that's coming here?” See p. 496. Steevens.

Note return to page 1062 7Tell me, sweet Kate,] In the first sketch of this play, printed in 1607, we find two speeches in this place worth preserving, and seeming to be of the hand of Shakspeare, though the rest of that play is far inferior: “Fair lovely maiden, [maide] young and affable, “More clear of hue, and far more beautiful “Than precious sardonyx, or purple rocks “Of amethists, or glistening [glistering] hyacinth— “&lblank; Sweet Katharine, this lovely woman— [Sweet Kate entertaine this lovely woman.] “Kath. Fair lovely lady, bright and chrystalline, “Beauteous and stately as the eye-train'd bird; “As glorious as the morning wash'd with dew, “Within whose eyes she takes her dawning beams, “And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks. “Wrap up thy radiations in some cloud, “Lest that thy beauty make this stately town “Unhabitable [Inhabitable] as [like] the burning zone, “With sweet reflections of thy lovely face.” Pope. An attentive reader will perceive in this speech several words which are employed in none of the legitimate plays of Shakspeare. Such, I believe, are, sardonyx, hyacinth, eye-train'd, radiations, and especially unhabitable; our poet generally using inhabitable in its room, as in King Richard II.: “Or any other ground inhabitable.” These instances may serve as some slight proofs, that the former piece was not the work of Shakspeare: but I have since observed that Mr. Pope had changed inhabitable into unhabitable. Steevens.

Note return to page 1063 8&lblank; to make a woman &lblank;] The old copy reads—the woman. Corrected by the editor of the second folio, Malone.

Note return to page 1064 9&lblank; where is thy abode?] Instead of where, the printer of the old copy inadvertently repeated whither. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1065 1Happy the parents of so fair a child; Happier the man, whom favourable stars Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!] This is borrowed from Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, book iv. edit. 1587, p. 56: “&lblank; right happie folke are they “By whome thou camst into this world; right happie is (I say) “Thy mother and thy sister too (if anie be:) good hap “That woman had that was thy nurse, and gave thy mouth hir pap. “But far above all other far, more blist than these is shee “Whome thou vouchsafest for thy wife and bed-fellow for to bee.” I should add, however, that Ovid borrowed his ideas from the sixth book of the Odyssey, 154, &c.: &grT;&grr;&gri;&grs;&grm;&graa;&grk;&gra;&grr;&gre;&grst; &grm;&greg;&grn; &grs;&gro;&gria; &grg;&gre; &grp;&gra;&grt;&grhg;&grr; &grk;&gra;&grig; &grp;&groa;&grt;&grn;&gri;&gra; &grm;&grha;&grt;&grh;&grr;, &grT;&grr;&gri;&grs;&grm;&graa;&grk;&gra;&grr;&gre;&grst; &grd;&greg; &grk;&gra;&grs;&gria;&grg;&grn;&gre;&grt;&gro;&gri;&grcolon; &grm;&gra;&grl;&gra; &grp;&gro;&grua;, &c. &grK;&gre;&gric;&grn;&gro;&grst; &grd;&grap; &gra;&grusc; &grp;&gre;&grr;&gri; &grk;&grhc;&grr;&grisg; &grm;&gra;&grk;&graa;&grr;&grt;&gra;&grt;&gro;&grst; &gresa;&grc;&gro;&grx;&gro;&grn; &grasa;&grl;&grl;&grw;&grn;, &grO;&grst; &grk;&grea; &grs;&grap; &gres;&grea;&grd;&grn;&gro;&gri;&grs;&gri; &grb;&grr;&gria;&grs;&gra;&grst; &gro;&grisc;&grk;&gro;&grn;&grd;&grap; &gras;&grg;&graa;&grg;&grh;&grt;&gra;&gri;. Steevens.

Note return to page 1066 2That every thing I look on seemeth green:] Shakspeare's observations on the phenomena of nature are very acurate. When one has sat long in the sunshine, the surrounding objects will often appear tinged with green. The reason is assigned by many of the writers on opticks. Blackstone.

Note return to page 1067 3&lblank; mistress,] is here used as a trisyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 1068 4&lblank; and then come back to my master as soon as I can.] The editions all agree in reading mistress; but what mistress was Biondello to come back to? he must certainly mean—Nay, faith, sir, I must see you in the church; and then for fear I should be wanted, I'll run back to wait on Tranio, who at present personates you, and whom therefore I at present acknowledge for my master Theobald. Probably an M was only written in the MS. See p. 396. The same mistake has happened again in this scene: “Didst thou never see thy mistress' father, Vincentio?” The present emendation was made by Mr. Theobald, who observes rightly, that by “master,” Biondello means his pretended master, Tranio. Malone.

Note return to page 1069 5&lblank; from Pisa,] The reading of the old copies is from Padua, which is certainly wrong. The editors have made to Padua; but it should rather be from Pisa. Both parties agree that Lucentio's father is come from Pisa, as indeed they necessarily must; the point in dispute is, whether he be at the door, or looking out of the window. Tyrwhitt. I suspect we should read—from Mantua, from whence the Pedant himself came, and which he would naturally name, supposing he forgot, as might well happen, that the real Vincentio was of Pisa. In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Padua and Verona occur in two different scenes, instead of Milan. Malone

Note return to page 1070 6&lblank; thy master's father, Vincentio?] Old copy—thy mistress' father. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1071 7&lblank; a copatain hat!] is, I believe, a hat with a conical crown, such as was anciently worn by well-dressed men. Johnson. This kind of hat is twice mentioned by Gascoigne. See Hearbes, p. 154: “A coptankt hat made on a Flemish block.” And again, in his Epilogue, p. 216: “With high copt hats, and feathers flaunt a flaunt.” In Stubbs's Anatomie of Abuses, printed 1595, there is an entire chapter “on the hattes of England,” beginning thus: “Sometimes they use them sharpe on the crowne, pearking up like the speare or shaft of a steeple, standing a quarter of a yard above the crowne of their heads,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1072 8&lblank; a sail-maker in Bergamo.] Ben Jonson has a parallel passage in his Alchemist: “&lblank; you do resemble “One of the Austriack princes. “Face. Very like: “Her father was an Irish costarmonger.” Again, Chapman, in his Widow's Tears, a comedy 1612: “&lblank; he draws the thread of his descent from Leda's distaff, when 'tis well known his grandsire cried coney-skins in Sparta.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1073 9Call forth an officer: &c.] Here, in the original play, the Tinker speaks again: “Slie. I say weele have no sending to prison. “Lord. My lord, this is but the play; they're but in jest. “Slie. I tell thee Sim, weele have no sending “To prison, that's flat; why Sim, am not I don Christo Vari? “Therefore, I say, they shall not goe to prison. “Lord. No more they shall not, my lord: “They be runne away. “Slie. Are they run away, Sim? that's well: “Then gis some more drinke, and let them play againe. “Lord. Here, my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1074 1&lblank; coney-catched &lblank;] i.e. deceived, cheated. Steevens.

Note return to page 1075 2&lblank; run out.] The old copy says—as fast as may be. Ritson.

Note return to page 1076 3While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne.] The modern editors read supposers, but wrongly. This is a plain allusion to Gascoigne's comedy entitled Supposes, from which several of the incidents in this play are borrowed. Tyrwhitt. This is highly probable; but yet supposes is a word often used in its common sense, which on the present occasion is sufficiently commodious. So, in Greene's Farewell to Folly, 1617: “&lblank; with Plato to build a commonwealth on supposes.” Shakspeare uses the word in Troilus and Cressida: “That we come short of our suppose so far,” &c. It appears likewise from the Preface to Greene's Metamorphosis, that supposes was a game of some kind: “After supposes, and such ordinary sports, were past, they fell to prattle,” &c. Again, in Drayton's Epistle from King John to Matilda: “And tells me those are shadows and supposes.” To blear the eye, was an ancient phrase signifying to deceive. So, in Chaucer's Manciple's Tale, v. 17,202, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit.: “For all thy waiting, blered is thin eye.“ Again, in the 10th pageant of The Coventry Plays, in the British Museum, MS. Cott. Vesp. d. viii.: “Shuld I now in age begynne to dote, “If I chyde, she wolde clowte my cote, “Blere mine ey, and pyke out a mote.” Steevens. The ingenious editor's explanation of blear the eye, is strongly supported by Milton, Comus, v. 155: “Spells &lblank; “Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion.” Holt White.

Note return to page 1077 4Here's packing,] i. e. plotting, underhand contrivance. So, in King Lear: “Snuffs and packings of the dukes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1078 5My cake is dough:] This is a proverbial expression, which also occurs in the old interlude of Tom Tyler and his Wife: “Alas poor Tom, his cake is dough.“ Again, in The Case is Alter'd, 1609: “Steward, your cake is dough, as well as mine.” Steevens. It was generally used when any project miscarried. Malone. Rather when any disappointment was sustained, contrary to every appearance or expectation. Howel, in one of his letters, mentioning the birth of Louis the Fourteenth, says—“The Queen is delivered of a Dauphin, the wonderfullest thing of this kind that any story can parallel, for this is the three-and-twentieth year since she was married, and hath continued childless all this while. So that now Monsieur's cake is dough.” Reed.

Note return to page 1079 6&lblank; when raging war is done,] This is Mr. Rowe's emendation. The old copy has—“when raging war is come,” which cannot be right. Perhaps the author wrote—when raging war is calm, formerly spelt calme. So, in Othello: “If after every tempest come such calms—” The word “overblown,” in the next line, adds some little support to this conjecture. Malone. Mr. Rowe's conjecture is justified by a passage in Othello: “News, lords! our wars are done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1080 7My banquet &lblank;] A banquet, or (as it is called in some of our old books,) an afterpast, was a slight refection, like our modern desert, consisting of cakes, sweetmeats, and fruit. See note on Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 1081 8&lblank; fears his widow,] To fear, as has been already observed, meant in our author's time both to dread, and to intimidate. The widow understands the word in the latter sense: and Petruchio tells her, he used it in the former. Malone.

Note return to page 1082 9You are sensible, and yet you miss my sense;] The old copy redundantly reads—You are very sensible.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1083 1&lblank; shrew, &lblank;woe;] As this was meant for a rhyming couplet, it should be observed that anciently the word—shrew was pronounced as if it had been written—shrow. See the finale of the play, p. 522. Steevens.

Note return to page 1084 2&lblank; put her down. Hor. That's my office.] This passage will be best explained by another in Much Ado about Nothing: “Lady, you have put him down.—So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1085 3&lblank; Ha' to thee, lad.] The old copy has—to the. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1086 4Have at you for a bitter jest or two.] The old copy reads— a better jest. The emendation, (of the propriety of which there cannot, I conceive, be the smallest doubt,) is one of the very few corrections of any value made by Mr. Capell. So, before, in the present play: “Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Too bitter is thy jest.” Again, in Bastard's Epigrams, 1598: “He shut up the matter with this bitter jest.” Malone. I have received this emendation; and yet “a better jest” may mean no more than a good one. Shakspeare often uses the comparative for the positive degree. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; her smiles and tears “Were like a better day.” Again, in Macbeth: “&lblank; go not my horse the better &lblank;.” i. e. if he does not go well. Steevens.

Note return to page 1087 5&lblank; swift &lblank;] Besides the original sense of speedy in motion, signified witty, quick-witted. So, in As You Like It, the Duke says of the Clown: “He is very swift and sententious.” Quick is now used in almost the same sense as nimble was in the age after that of our author. Heylin says of Hales, that “he had known Laud for a nimble disputant.” Johnson.

Note return to page 1088 6&lblank; that gird, good Tranio.] A gird is a sarcasm, a gibe. So, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “Curculio may chatte till his heart ake, ere any be offended with his gyrdes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1089 7&lblank; you two outright.] Old copy—you too. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1090 8&lblank; for assurance,] Instead of for, the original copy has sir. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 1091 9Let's each one send unto his wife;] Thus in the original play: “Feran. Come, gentlemen; nowe that supper's done, “How shall we spend the time til we go to bed? “Aurel. Faith, if you wil, in trial of our wives, “Who wil come soonest at their husbands cal. “Pol. Nay, then, Ferando, he must needes sit out; “For he may cal, I thinke, til he be weary, “Before his wife wil come before she list. “Feran. 'Tis wel for you that have such gentle wives: “Yet in this trial wil I not sit out; “It may be Kate wil come as soone as I do send. “Aurel. My wife comes soonest, for a hundred pound. “Pol. I take it. He lay as much to yours, “That my wife comes as soone as I do send. “Aurel. How now, Ferando! you dare not lay, belike. “Feran. Why true, I dare not lay indeed: “But how? So little mony on so sure a thing. “A hundred pound! Why I have laid as much “Upon my dog in running at a deere, “She shall not come so far for such a trifle: “But wil you lay five hundred markes with me? “And whose wife soonest comes, when he doth cal, “And shewes herselfe most loving unto him, “Let him injoy the wager I have laid: “Now what say you? Dare you adventure thus? “Pol. I, were it a thousand pounds, I durst presume “On my wife's love: and I wil lay with thee. “Enter Alfonso. “Alfon. How now sons! What in conference so hard? “May I, without offence, know where about? “Aurel. Faith, father, a waighty cause, about our wives: “Five hundred markes already we have laid; “And he whose wife doth shew most love to him, “He must injoy the wager to himselfe. “Alfon. Why then Ferando, he is sure to lose it: “I promise thee son, thy wife will hardly come; “And therefore I would not wish thee lay so much. “Feran. Tush, father; were it ten times more, “I durst adventure on my lovely Kate:— “But if I lose, Ile pay, and so shall you. “Aurel. Upon mine honour, if I lose Ile pay. “Pol. And so wil I upon my faith, I vow. “Feran. Then sit we downe, and let us send for them. “Alfon. I promise thee Ferando, I am afraid thou wilt lose. “Aurel. Ile send for my wife first: Valeria, “Go bid your mistress come to me. “Val. I wil, my lord. [Exit Valeria. “Aurel. Now for my hundred pound:— “Would any lay ten hundred more with me, “I know I should obtain it by her love. “Feran. I pray God, you have laid too much already. “Aurel. Trust me, Ferando, I am sure you have; “For you, I dare presume, have lost it al. “Enter Valeria againe. “Now, sirha, what saies your mistris? “Val. She is something busie, but sheele come anone. “Feran. Why so: did I not tel you this before? “She was busie, and cannot come. “Aurel. I pray God, your wife send you so good an answere: “She may be busie, yet she says sheele come. “Feran. Wel, wel: Polidor, send you for your wife. “Pol. Agreed. Boy, desire your mistris to come hither. “Boy. I wil, sir. [Exit. “Feran. I, so, so; he desires hir to come. “Alfon. Polidor, I dare presume for thee, “I thinke thy wife will not denie to come; “And I do marvel much, Aurelius, “That your wife came not when you sent for her. “Enter the Boy againe. “Pol. Now, wher's your mistris? “Boy. She bade me tell you that she will not come: “And you have any businesse, you must come to her. “Feran. O monstrous intollerable presumption, “Worse than a blasing star, or snow at midsummer, “Earthquakes or any thing unseasonable! “She will not come; but he must come to hir. “Pol. Wel, sir, I pray you, let's heare what “Answere your wife will make. “Feran. Sirha, command your mistris to come “To me presently. [Exit Sander. “Aurel. I thinke, my wife, for all she did not come, “Wil prove most kind; for now I have no feare, “For I am sure Ferando's wife, she will not come. “Feran. The more's the pitty; then I must lose. “Enter Kate and Sander. “But I have won, for see where Kate doth come. “Kate. Sweete husband, did you send for me? “Feran. I did, my love, I sent for thee to come: “Come hither, Kate: What's that upon thy head? “Kate. Nothing, husband, but my cap, I thinke. “Feran. Pul it off and tread it under thy feet; “'Tis foolish; I wil not have thee weare it. [She takes off her cap, and treads on it. “Pol. Oh wonderful metamorphosis! “Aurel. This is a wonder, almost past beleefe. “Feran. This is a token of her true love to me; “And yet Ile try her further you shall see. “Come hither, Kate: Where are thy sisters? “Kate. They be sitting in the bridal chamber. “Feran. Fetch them hither; and if they will not come, “Bring them perforce, and make them come with thee. “Kate. I will. “Alfon. I promise thee, Ferando, I would have sworne “Thy wife would ne'er have done so much for thee. “Feran. But you shal see she wil do more then this; “For see where she brings her sisters forth by force. “Enter Kate, thrusting Phylema and Emelia before her, and makes them come unto their husbands cal. “Kate. See husband, I have brought them both. “Feran. 'Tis wel done, Kate. “Emil. I sure; and like a loving peece, you're worthy “To have great praise for this attempt. “Phyle. I, for making a foole of herselfe and us. “Aurel. Beshrew thee, Phylema, thou hast “Lost me a hundred pound to night; “For I did lay that thou wouldst first have come. “Pol. But, thou, Emelia, hast lost me a great deal more. “Emil. You might have kept it better then: “Who bade you lay? “Feran. Now, lovely Kate, before their husbands here, “I prethee tel unto these head-strong women “What dewty wives do owe unto their husbands. “Kate. Then, you that live thus by your pampered wils, “Now list to me, and marke what I shall say.— “Th' eternal power, that with his only breath, “Shall cause this end, and this beginning frame, “Not in time, nor before time, but with time confus'd, “For all the course of yeares, of ages, months, “Of seasons temperate, of dayes and houres, “Are tun'd and stopt by measure of his hand. “The first world was a forme without a forme, “A heape confus'd, a mixture al deform'd, “A gulfe of gulfes, a body bodilesse, “Where all the elements were orderlesse, “Before the great commander of the world, “The king of kings, the glorious God of heaven, “Who in six daies did frame his heavenly worke, “And made al things to stand in perfect course. “Then to his image he did make a man, “Old Adam, and from his side asleepe, “A rib was taken; of which the Lord did make “The woe of man, so term'd by Adam then, “Woman, for that by her came sinne to us, “And for her sinne was Adam doom'd to die. “As Sara to her husband, so should we “Obey them, love them, keepe and nourish them, “If they by any meanes do want our helpes: “Laying our hands under their feet to tread, “If that by that we might procure their ease; “And, for a president, Ile first begin, “And lay my hand under my husband's feet. [She laies her hand under her husband's feet. “Feran. Inough sweet; the wager thou hast won; “And they, I am sure, cannot deny the same. “Alfon. I, Ferando, the wager thou hast won; “And for to shew thee how I am pleas'd in this, “A hundred pounds I freely give thee more, “Another dowry for another daughter, “For she is not the same she was before. “Feran. Thanks, sweet father; gentlemen, good night; “For Kate and I will leave you for to-night: “'Tis Kate and I am wed, and you are sped: “And so farewell, for we will to our bed. [Exeunt Ferando, Kate, and Sander. “Alfon. Now Aurelius, what say you to this? “Aurel. Beleeve me, father I rejoyce to see “Ferando and his wife so lovingly agree. [Exeunt Aurelius and Phylema, and Alfonso and Valeria. “Emel. How now, Polidor? in a dumpe? What saist thou man? “Pol. I say, thou art a shrew. “Emel. That's better than a sheepe. “Pol. Well, since 'tis done, come, let's goe. [Exeunt Polidor and Emilia. “Then enter two, bearing of Slie in his own apparel againe, and leaves him where they found him, and then goes out: then enters the Tapster. “Tapster. Now that the darkesome night is overpast, “And dawning day appeares in christall skie, “Now must I haste abroade: but soft! who's this? “What Slie? o wondrous! hath he laine heere all night! “He wake him; I thinke he's starved by this, “But that his belly was so stufft with ale: “What now She! awake for shame.”—&c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1092 1She will not.] I have added the word—come, to complete the measure, which was here defective; as indeed it is, almost irremediably, in several parts of the present scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 1093 2&lblank; an hundred crowns &lblank;] Old copy—five hundred. Corrected by Mr. Pope. In the MS. from which our author's plays were printed, probably numbers were always expressed in figures, which has been the occasion of many mistakes in the early editions. Malone.

Note return to page 1094 3&lblank; as frosts do bite the meads:] Thus the old copy. The second folio, and the modern editors, omit the word do. Boswell.

Note return to page 1095 4&lblank; our soft conditions,] The gentle qualities of our minds. Malone. So, in King Henry V.: “my tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1096 5&lblank; which we least are.] The old copy erroneously prolongs this line by reading—which we indeed least are. Steevens.

Note return to page 1097 6Then vail your stomachs,] i. e. abate your pride, your spirit. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame “Of those that turn'd their backs.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1098 7&lblank; you two are sped.] i. e. the fate of you both is decided; for you have wives who exhibit early proofs of disobedience. Steevens.

Note return to page 1099 8&lblank; though you hit the white;] To “hit the white” is a phrase borrowed from archery: the mark was commonly white. Here it alludes to the name, Bianca, or white. Johnson. So, in Feltham's Answer to Ben Jonson's Ode at the end of his New Inn: “As oft you've wanted brains “And art to strike the white, “As you have levell'd right.” Again, in Sir Aston Cockayn's Poems, 1658: “And as an expert archer hits the white.” Malone.

Note return to page 1100 9&lblank; shrew.] I suppose our author design'd this word to be sounded as if it had been written—shrow. Thus, in Mr. Lodge's Illustrations of English History, vol. ii. p. 164, Burghley calls Lord Shrewsbury—Shrowsbury. See, also, the same work, vol. ii. p. 168–9. Steevens.

Note return to page 1101 1Exeunt.] At the conclusion of this piece, Mr. Pope continued his insertions from the old play, as follows: “Enter two Servants, bearing Sly in his own apparel, and leaving him on the stage. Then enter a Tapster. “Sly. [awaking,] Sim, give's some more wine.—What, all the players gone?—Am I not a lord? “Tap. A lord, with a murrain?—Come, art thou drunk still? “Sly. Who's this? Tapster!—Oh, I have had the bravest dream that ever thou heard'st in all thy life. “Tap. Yea, marry, but thou hadst best get thee home, for your wife will curse you for dreaming here all night. “Sly. Will she? I know how to tame a shrew. I dreamt upon it all this night, and thou hast wak'd me out of the best dream that ever I had, But I'll to my wife, and tame her too, if she anger me.” These passages, which have hitherto been printed as part of the work of Shakspeare, I have sunk into the notes, that they may be preserved, as they seem to be necessary to the integrity of the piece, though they really compose no part of it, being not published in the folio 1623. Mr. Pope, however, has quoted them with a degree of inaccuracy which would have deserved censure, had they been of greater consequence than they are. The players delivered down this comedy, among the rest, as one of Shakspeare's own; and its intrinsic merit bears sufficient evidence to the propriety of their decision. May I add a few reasons why I neither believe the former comedy of The Taming of the Shrew, 1607, nor the old play of King John, in two Parts, to have been the work of Shakspeare? He generally followed every novel or history from whence he took his plots, as closely as he could; and is so often indebted to these originals for his very thoughts and expressions, that we may fairly pronounce him not to have been above borrowing, to spare himself the labour of invention. It is therefore probable, that both these plays, (like that of King Henry V. in which Oldcastle is introduced,) were the unsuccessful performances of contemporary players. Shakspeare saw they were meanly written, and yet that their plans were such as would furnish incidents for a better dramatist. He therefore might lazily adopt the order of their scenes, still writing the dialogue anew, and inserting little more from either piece, than a few lines which he might think worth preserving, or was too much in haste to alter. It is no uncommon thing in the literary world, to see the track of others followed by those who would never have given themselves the trouble to mark out one of their own. Steevens. It is almost unnecessary to vindicate Shakspeare from being the author of the old Taming of a Shrew. Mr. Pope, in consequence of his being very superficially acquainted with the phraseology of our early writers, first ascribed it to him, and on his authority this strange opinion obtained credit for half a century. He might, with just as much propriety, have supposed that our author wrote the old King Henry IV. and V. and The History of King Lier and his Three Daughters, as that he wrote two plays on the subject of Taming a Shrew, and two others on the story of King John.—The error prevailed for such a length of time, from the difficulty of meeting with the piece, which is so extremely scarce, that one of our author's editors [Mr. Capell] searched for it for thirty years in vain. Four copies, however, are now known to exist. My own, and that which was in Mr. Steevens's collection, were printed in 1607; but the first edition of 1596 was in the library of the Duke of Roxburghe, and another, of the same date, is in the possession of the Marquis of Stafford. Mr. Pope's copy is supposed to be irrecoverably lost. I suspect that the anonymous Taming of a Shrew was written about the year 1590, either by George Peele or Robert Greene. Malone.

Note return to page 1102 The following are the observations of Dr. Hurd on the Induction to this comedy. They are taken from his Notes on the Epistle to Augustus: “The Induction, as Shakspeare calls it, to The Taming of the Shrew, deserves, for the excellence of its moral design and beauty of execution, throughout, to be set in a just light. “This Prologue sets before us the picture of a poor drunken beggar, advanced, for a short season, into the proud rank of nobility. And the humour of the scene is taken to consist in the surprize and aukward deportment of Sly, in this his strange and unwonted situation. But the poet had a further design, and more worthy his genius, than this farcical pleasantry. He would expose, under cover of this mimic fiction, the truly ridiculous figure of men of rank and quality, when they employ their great advantages of place and fortune, to no better purposes, than the soft and selfish gratification of their own intemperate passions: Of those, who take the mighty privilege of descent and wealth to live in the freer indulgence of those pleasures, which the beggar as fully enjoys, and with infinitely more propriety and consistency of character, than their lordships. “To give a poignancy to his satire, the poet makes a man of quality himself, just returned from the chace, with all his mind intent upon his pleasures, contrive this metamorphosis of the beggar, in the way of sport and derision only; not considering, how severely the jest was going to turn upon himself. His first reflections, on seeing this brutal drunkard, are excellent: ‘O! monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! ‘Grim death! how foul and loathsome is thy image!’ “The offence is taken at human nature, degraded into bestiality; and at the state of stupid insensibility, the image of death. Nothing can be juster than this representation. For these lordly sensualists have a very nice and fastidious abhorrence of such ignoble brutality. And what alarms their fears with the prospect of death, cannot choose but present a foul and loathsome image. It is, also, said in perfect consistency with the true Epicurean character, as given by these, who understood it best, and which is here sustained by this noble disciple. For, though these great masters of wisdom made pleasure the supreme good, yet they were among the first, as we are told, to cry out against the Asotos; meaning such gross sensualists: ‘qui in mensam vomunt et qui de conviviis auferuntur, crudique postridie se rursus ingurgitant.’ But as for the ‘mundos, elegantes, optumis cocis, pistoribus, piscatu, aucupio, venatione, his omnibus exquisitis, vitantes cruditatem,’ these they complimented with the name of beatos sapientes. [Cic. de Fin. lib. ii. 8.] “And then, though their philosophy promised an exemption from the terrors of death, yet the boasted exemption consisted only in a trick of keeping it out of the memory by continual dissipation; so that when accident forced it upon them, they could not help, on all occasions, expressing the most dreadful apprehensions of it. “However, this transient gloom is soon succeeded by gayer prospects. My lord bethinks himself to raise a little diversion out of this adventure: ‘Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man:’ And so proposes to have him conveyed to bed, and blessed with all those regalements of costly luxury, in which a selfish opulence is wont to find its supreme happiness. “The project is carried into execution. And now the jest begins. Sly, awakening from his drunken nap, calls out as usual for a cup of ale. On which the lord very characteristically, and (taking the poet's design* [Subnote: *To apprehend it thoroughly, it may not be amiss to recollect what the sensible Bruyere observes on a like occasion: “Un Grand aime le Champagne, abhorre la Brie; il s'enyvre de meillieure vin, que l'homme de peuple: seule difference, que la crapule laisse entre les conditions les plus disproportionées, entre le Seigneur, et l'Estassier.” [Tom. ii. p. 12.]] , as here explained,) with infinite satyr, replies: ‘O! that a mighty man of such descent, ‘Of such possessions, and so high esteem, ‘Should be infused with so foul a spirit!’ And again, afterwards: ‘Oh! noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, ‘Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment; ‘And banish hence these lowly abject themes.’ For, what is the recollection of this high descent and large possessions to do for him? And, for the introduction of what better thoughts and nobler purposes, are these lowly abject themes to be discarded? Why the whole inventory of Patrician pleasures is called over; and he hath his choice of whichsoever of them suits best with his lordship's improved palate. A long train of servants ready at his beck: musick, such as twenty caged nightingales do sing: couches, softer and sweeter than the lustful bed of Semiramis: burning odours, and distilled waters: floors bestrewed with carpets: the diversions of hawks, hounds, and horses: in short, all the objects of exquisite indulgence are presented to him. “But among these, one species of refined enjoyment, which requires a taste, above the coarse breeding of abject commonalty, is chiefly insisted upon. We had a hint of what we were to expect, before: ‘Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, ‘And hang it round with all my wanton pictures.’ (Sc. II.) And what lord, in the luxury of all his wishes, could feign to himself a more delicious collection, than is here delineated? ‘2 Man. Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight ‘Adonis painted by a running brook; ‘And Cytherea all in sedges hid; ‘Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, “Even as the waving sedges play with wind. ‘Lord. We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid; ‘And how she was beguiled and surprized, ‘As lively painted, as the deed was done. ‘3 Man. Or Daphen, roaming through a thorny wood; ‘Scratching her legs, that one shall swear, she bleeds: ‘So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.’ These pictures, it will be owned, are, all of them, well chosen* [Subnote: *Sir Epicure Mammon, indeed, would have thought this an insipid collection; for he would have his rooms, “Fill'd with such pictures, as Tiberius took “From Elephantis, and dull Aretine “But coldly imitated.” Alchemist, Act II. Sc. II. But then Sir Epicure was one of the Asoti, before mentioned. In general, the satiric intention of the poet in this collection of pictures may be further gathered from a similar stroke in Randolph's Muse's Looking-Glass, where, to characterise the voluptuous, he makes him say: “&lblank; I would delight my sight “With pictures of Diana and her nymphs “Naked and bathing.”] . But the servants were not so deep in the secret, as their master. They dwell entirely on circumstantials. While his lordship, who had, probably, been trained in the chaste school of Titian, is for coming to the point more directly. There is a fine ridicule implied in this. “After these incentives of picture, the charms of beauty itself are presented, as the crowning privilege of his high station: ‘Thou hast a lady far more beautiful ‘Than any woman in this waning age.’ Here, indeed, the poet plainly forgets himself. The state, if not the enjoyment, of nobility, surely demanded a mistress, instead of a wife. All that can be said in excuse of this indecorum, is, that he perhaps conceived, a simple beggar, all unused to the refinements of high life, would be too much shocked, at setting out with a proposal so remote from all his former practices. Be it as it will, beauty even in a wife, had such an effect on this mock Lord, that, quite melted and overcome by it, he yields himself at last to the inchanting deception: ‘I see, I hear, I speak; ‘I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:— ‘Upon my life, I am a Lord indeed.’ The satyr is so strongly marked in this last line, that one can no longer doubt of the writer's intention. If any should, let me further remind him that the poet, in this fiction, but makes his Lord play the same game, in jest, as the Sicilian tyrant acted, long ago, very seriously. The two cases are so similar, that some readers may, perhaps, suspect the poet of having taken the whole conceit from Tully. His description of this instructive scenery is given in the following words: “Visne (inquit Dionysius) ô Damocle, quoniam te hæc vita delectat, ipse eandem degustare et fortunam experiri meam? Cum se ille cupere dixisset, conlocari jussit hominem in aureo lecto, strato pulcherrimo, textili stragulo magnificis operibus picto: abacosque complures ornavit argento auroque caelato: hinc ad mensam eximia forma pueros delectos jussit consistere, eosque nutum illius intuentes diligenter ministrare: aderant unguenta, coronæ: incendebantur odores: mensæ conquisitissimis epulis extruebantur.” [Tusc. Disp. lib. v. 21.] “It follows, that Damocles fell into the sweet delusion of Christophero Sly: ‘Fortunatus sibi Damocles videbatur.’ “The event in these two dramas, was, indeed, different. For the philosopher took care to make the flatterer sensible of his mistake; while the poet did not think fit to disabuse the beggar. But this was according to the design of each. For, the former would show the misery of regal luxury; the latter its vanity. The tyrant, therefore, is painted wretched. And his Lordship only a beggar in disguise. “To conclude with our poet. The strong ridicule and decorum of this Induction make it appear, how impossible it was for Shakspeare, in his idlest hours, perhaps when he was only revising the trash of others, not to leave some strokes of the master behind him. But the morality of its purpose should chiefly recommend it to us. For the whole was written with the best design of exposing that monstrous Epicurean position, that the true enjoyment of life consists in a delirium of sensual pleasure. And this, in a way the most likely to work upon the great, by showing their pride, that it was fit only to constitute the summum bonum of one— ‘No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.’ (Sc. III.) “Nor let the poet be thought to have dealt too freely with his betters, in giving this representation of nobility. He had the highest authority for what he did. For the great master of life himself gave no other of Divinity: ‘Ipse pater veri Doctus Epicurus in arte   ‘Jussit et hanc vitam dixit habere Deos.’” Petron. c. 132. Steevens. In justice to Bishop Hurd it ought to be mentioned that this elaborate trifling is only to be found in his work, as it first appeared, and was withdrawn by himself from the subsequent editions. Boswell. The circumstance on which the Induction to the anonymous play, as well as that to the present comedy, is founded, is related (as Langbaine has observed,) by Heuterus, Rerum, Burgund. lib. iv. The earliest English original of this story in prose that I have met with, is the following, which is found in Goulart's Admirable and Memorable Histories, translated by E. Grimestone, quarto, 1607; but this tale (which Goulart translated from Heuterus,) had undoubtedly appeared in English, in some other shape, before 1594: “Philip called the good Duke of Bourgundy, in the memory of our ancestors, being at Bruxelles with his Court, and walking one night after supper through the streets, accompanied with some of his favorits, he found lying upon the stones a certaine artisan that was very dronke, and that slept soundly. It pleased the prince in this artisan to make trial of the vanity of our life, whereof he had before discoursed with his familiar friends. He therefore caused this sleeper to be taken up, and carried into his palace: he commands him to be layed in one of the richest beds; a riche night-cap to be given him: his foule shirt to be taken off, and to have another put on him of fine Holland. When as this dronkard had digested his wine, and began to awake, behold there comes about his bed Pages and Groomes of the Duke's chamber, who drawe the curteines, and make many courtesies, and, being bare-headed, aske him if it please him to rise, and what apparell it would please him to put on that day.—They bring him rich apparell. This new Monsieur amazed at such courtesie, and doubting whether he dreampt or waked, suffered himselfe to be drest, and led out of the chamber. There came noblemen which saluted him with all honour, and conduct him to the Masse, where with great ceremonie they gave him the booke of the Gospell, and the Pixe to kisse, as they did usually to the Duke. From the Masse, they bring him backe unto the pallace; he washes his hands, and sittes downe at the table well furnished. After dinner, the great Chamberlaine commandes cardes to be brought, with a greate summe of money. This Duke in imagination playes with the chiefe of the court. Then they carry him to walke in the garden, and to hunt the hare, and to hawke. They bring him back unto the pallace, where he sups in state. Candles being light, the musitions begin to play; and, the tables taken away, the gentlemen and gentlewomen fell to dancing. Then they played a pleasant Comedie, after which followed a Banket, whereat they had presently store of Ipocras and pretious wine, with all sorts of confitures, to this prince of the new impression; so as he was dronke, and fell soundlie asleepe. Hereupon the Duke commanded that he should be disrobed of all his riche attire. He was put into his olde ragges, and carried into the same place where he had beene found the night before; where he spent that night. Being awake in the morning, he beganne to remember what had happened before:—he knewe not whether it were true indeede, or a dreame that had troubled his brain. But in the end, after many discourses, he concludes that all was but a dreame that had happened unto him; and so entertained his wife, his children, and his neighbours, without any other apprehension.” Malone. The following story, related, as it appears, by an eye-witness, may not be thought inapplicable to this Induction: “I remember (says Sir Richard Barckley, in A Discourse on the Felicitie of Man, 1598, p. 24,) a pretie experiment practised by the Emperour Charles the Fifth upon a drunkard. As this Emperour on a time entered into Gaunt, there lay a drunken fellow overthwart the streetes, as though he had bene dead; who, least the horsemen should ride ouer him, was drawen out of the way by the legges, and could by no means be wakened; which when the Emperour saw, he caused him to be taken vp and carried home to his palace, and vsed as he had appointed. He was brought into a faire chamber hanged with costly arras, his clothes taken off, and laid in a stately bed meet for the Emperour himselfe. He continued in a sleepe vntil the next day almost noone. When he awaked and had lyen wondring awhile to see himself in such a place, and diuers braue gentlemen attending upon him, they took him out of the bed, and apparelled him like a prince, in verie costly garments, and all this was done with verie great silence on everie side. When he was ready, there was a table set and furnished with very daintie meats, and he set in a chaire to eat attended vpon with braue courtiers, and serued as if the Emperour had bin present, the cupboord full of gold plate and diuerse sortes of wines. When he saw such preparation made for him, he left any longer to wonder, and thought it not good to examine the matter any further, but tooke his fortune as it came, and fell to his meate. His wayters with great reuerance and dutie obserued diligently his nods and becks, which were his signes to call for that he lacked, for words he vsed none. As he thus sate in his majestie eating and drinking, he tooke in his cups so freelie, that he fel fast asleepe againe as he sate in his chaire. His attendants stripped him out of his fresh apparel, and arrayed him with his own ragges againe, and carried him to the place where they found him, where he lay sleeping vntill the next day. After he was awakened, and fell into the companie of his acquaintance, being asked where he had bene; he answered that he had bene aslepe, and had the pleasantest dream that ever he had in his life; and told them all that passed, thinking that it had bene nothing but a dreame.” This frolick seems better suited to the gaiety of the gallant Francis, or to the revelry of the boisterous Henry, than to the cold and distant manners of the reserved Charles; of whose private character, however, historians have taken but slight notice. Holt White. From this play, The Tatler formed a story, vol. iv. No. 231: “There are very many ill habits that might with much ease have been prevented, which, after we have indulged ourselves in them, become incorrigible. We have a sort of proverbial expression, of taking a woman down in her wedding shoes, if you would bring her to reason. An early behaviour of this sort, had a very remarkable good effect in a family wherein I was several years an intimate acquaintance: “A gentleman in Lincolnshire had four daughters, three of which were early married very happily; but the fourth, though no way inferior to any of her sisters, either in person or accomplishments, had from her infancy discovered so imperious a temper, (usually called a high spirit,) that it continually made great uneasiness in the family, became her known character in the neighbourhood, and deterred all lovers from declaring themselves. However, in process of time, a gentleman of a plentiful fortune and long acquaintance, having observed that quickness of spirit to be her only fault, made his addresses, and obtained her consent in due form. The lawyers finished the writings (in which, by the way, there was no pin money,) and they were married. After a decent time spent in the father's house, the bridegroom went to prepare his seat for her reception. During the whole course of his courtship, though a man of the most equal temper, he had artificially lamented to her, that he was the most passionate creature breathing. By this one intimation, he at once made her to understand warmth of temper to be what he ought to pardon in her, as well as that he alarmed her against that constitution in himself. She at the same time thought herself highly obliged by the composed behaviour which he maintained in her presence. Thus far he with great success soothed her from being guilty of violences, and still resolved to give her such a terrible apprehension of his fiery spirit, that she should never dream of giving way to her own. He returned on the day appointed for carrying her home; but instead of a coach and six horses, together with the gay equipage suitable to the occasion, he appeared without a servant, mounted on a skeleton of a horse, (which his huntsman had the day before brought in to feast his dogs on the arrival of his new mistress,) with a pillion fixed behind, and a case of pistols before him, attended only by a favourite hound. Thus equipped, he in a very obliging, but somewhat positive manner, desired his lady to seat herself on the cushion; which done, away they crawled. The road being obstructed by a gate, the dog was commanded to open it; the poor cur looked up and wagged his tail; but the master, to show the impatience of his temper, drew a pistol and shot him dead. He had no sooner done it, but he fell into a thousand apologies for his unhappy rashness, and begged as many pardons for his excesses before one for whom he had so profound a respect. Soon after their steed stumbled, but with some difficulty recovered; however, the bridegroom took occasion to swear, if he frightened his wife so again, he would run him through! And alas! the poor animal being now almost tired, made a second trip; immediately on which the careful husband alights, and with great ceremony, first takes off his lady, then the accoutrements, draws his sword, and saves the huntsman the trouble of killing him: then says to his wife, Child, pr'ythee take up the saddle; which she readily did, and tugged it home, where they found all things in the greatest order, suitable to their fortune and the present occasion. Some time after, the father of the lady gave an entertainment to all his daughters and their husbands, where, when the wives were retired, and the gentlemen passing a toast about, our last married man took occasion to observe to his brethren, how much to his great satisfaction, he found the world mistaken as to the temper of his lady, for that she was the most meek and humble woman breathing. The applause was received with a loud laugh; but as a trial which of them would appear the most master at home, he proposed they should all by turns send for their wives down to them. A servant was dispatched, and answer made by one, ‘Tell him I will come by and by;’ and another, ‘That she would come when the cards were out of her hand;’ and so on. But no sooner was her husband's desire whispered in the ear of our last married lady, but the cards were clapped on the table, and down she comes with, ‘My dear, would you speak with me?’ He received her in his arms, and, after repeated caresses, tells her the experiment, confesses his good-nature, and assures her, that since she could now command her temper, he would no longer disguise his own.” It cannot but seem strange that Shakspeare should be so little known to the author of The Tatler, that he should suffer this story to be obtruded upon him; or so little known to the publick, that he could hope to make it pass upon his readers as a real narrative of a transaction in Lincolnshire; yet it is apparent, that he was deceived, or intended to deceive; that he knew not himself whence the story was taken, or hoped that he might rob so obscure a writer without detection. Of this play the two plots are so well united, that they can hardly be called two without injury to the art with which they are interwoven. The attention is entertained with all the variety of a double plot, yet is not distracted by unconnected incidents. The part between Katherine and Petruchio is eminently spritely and diverting. At the marriage of Bianca the arrival of the real father, perhaps, produces more perplexity than pleasure. The whole play is very popular and diverting. Johnson.

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